Original subtitles

Well, Mr Erie, what have you to say?

I don't think it's my business to say anything.

You know as well as any man living that I was told I would get the Exchequer.

Not in my hearing. Anyway, you weren't promised.

I was as near promised as if it had been on a cheque.

But the cheque has proved worthless, Mr Ede.

- Then I suggest to take it back to the Prime Minister. - I have, he was cool. Very cool.

He simply remarked that he hadn't actually signed.

- Well, that's about it, isn't it? - ls it?

I won't stand for this sort of treatment, Mr Erie.

There is a great deal more behind it than I've been told.

- That's more than I know. - Is it?

Sir, I will not be made a fool of.

The trouble, sir, as I understand it, is that you made a fool of yourself.

So it's that Duchess and her tricks, is it?

By God, I'll smash her.

And that mealy, stuck-up husband of hers, and her favourite Irishman!

Now, steady, Bonteen, steady.

Afier all, you've still got the Board of Trade.

Trade?!

I suppose you think that's all I'm fit for.

Well, I ain't finished yet, Mr Erle.

And nobody need think it.

Mr Speaker, sir, as the honorable gentleman has just pointed out,

disestablishment of the Church of England must come one day.

- But not today. - Why not?

Why not today? The measure is proposed by men who do not believe in it

and who are using it simply to create disension in the Government's ranks.

- Withdraw that! - I will not withdraw.

This measure, drafted and put forward by Conservatives in opposition,

is merely a mockery, doesn't stand the slightest examination.

To begin with, it does not, properly speaking, disestablish anything.

It merely serves to loosen the bond between Church and State

in such a way as to promote inefficiency and confusion in both,

and to set at risk the temporal interests and the spiritual performance

of an old and honorable church.

For such I declare it to be, although it be not my own.

Now, Mr Speaker, sir, let us proceed to specific examples

of the intellectual dishonesty, the moral indelicacy,

the political effrontery, or, in one word, the sheer fraudulence

wilh which this measure has been conceded.

Good evening, my dear. Lady Eustace.

We waited up, my dear, to hear the result of the debate.

The Government won quite easily, I'm happy to say.

- Did you make a speech, Mr Bonteen? - A short one.

A lot of our time was hogged by that Irishman, Finn.

- I hope he made a fool of himself. - Well, to be fair, no.

He spoke very competently.

I thought there were doubts about his loyalty.

So there were, but in the event, he put our case for us very well.

Not that it will do him any good. I still don't trust the man.

As long as I have any say in the matter, there'll be no promotion for Finn.

And now, Lady Eustace, I am free for a few days

to undertake this mission to Prague.

How very gracious of you, Mr Bomeen.

Always a pleasure to serve you, my Lady.

Are you sure, my dear, that you ought to go

with things as they are just now?

They can do without me for a while and see how they get on, eh?

I shall leave for Prague by the boat train tomorrow evening.

There is the full text of Mr Finn's speech.

They are all very pleased with him.

- What are they going to do for him? - Nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

What with this Kennedy shooting match and Lady Laura back in London...

Yes. I was telling him about that

He has become angry and pan of his anger has turned against you.

On? But why?

I did my best for him, Marie. I couldn't help it if my scheme failed.

No, indeed.

You have put down Mr Bonteen.

You have also done down Phineas Finn.

And with Legge-Wilson as Chancellor,

Planty says they'll need Bonteen where he is.

- Isn't Mr Bonteen abroad? - Yes, on behalf of Lizzie Eustace.

Apparently, her new husband is married to some woman in Prague.

- Yes, there was always talk of that - He has gone to find her out.

- Quite an undertaking. - I dare say Lizzie is paying him well.

In cash and kisses, according to Dolly Longslaffe.

I must rush away now, my dear.

The boys are back to Eton tomorrow. They seem to need everything

from pantaloons to pate' de foie gras.

Do join us for afternoon tea at half past four, if you can bear it.

Hm?

Oh.

I think I should tell you, Duke, that when Bonteen returns to London,

we shall have even more difficutties with him than we already have.

We gave into him over Phineas Finn.

Yes, but that's not enough to calm him down.

What he is going to say, indeed what he has already said,

is that he has been deceived and shamefully treated

by a group of high-handed aristocrats

who disgrace the Liberal Party.

Dear, oh, dear.

He has his supporters, both inside the House and out of it.

That journalist fellow, Quintus Slide,

is taking his part very strongly at The People's Banner.

Well, however all that may be,

I think Bonteen may have one very genuine grievance on his return.

That's of an entirely different character.

- Duke? - You're aware, I know.

Our industrial exports, they've been declining for some time now.

Yes, indeed, indeed. Competition from both Europe and America.

Bonteen at the Board of Trade made competent efforts to put this right,

with considerable success, but our new Chancellor, Legge-Wilson,

he's about to introduce a new impon levy on all foreign goods.

Of course, our competitors have responded in the usual way.

They put an even larger levy on our own.

Bonteen's away. He probably doesn't know about this yet

He's expected back quite soon.

Then he'll find out fast enough.

And will have another solid complaint for The People's Banner to exploit on his behalf.

Jolly agreeable ride, I thought.

I still think it's more agreeable when we go out in the morning.

It's agreeable with you at any time.

And with you.

So, at least we're agreed on that, Mr Maule.

- Mr Maule? - Yes, Miss Palliser?

Do you believe when two people are agreed to find each other agreeable,

they should begin to confide in each other?

I'd say they want to be a bit careful about that.

Oh, Why?

When people start confiding, there's no knowing when they'll stop.

That's what's so exciting.

Worrying, I'd call it. Take a fellow like me.

Yes! Take a fellow like you!

I manage to scrape along, more or less, to have what I want.

If once I started confiding, as you call it,

I might suddenly find I had a deal more than I want.

And a deal more than I can pay for.

That sounds selfish and spiritless!

Not selfish, Miss Palliser. I am thinking of my horses.

If I were to do something imprudent,

you know, like making up to a girl, however agreeable,

they might find themselves out of a home

because when she moved in, there wouldn't be money for both.

I know, Miss Palliser, you wouldn't want the poor, innocent horses to suffer.

You're laughing at me, Mr Maule.

No, just talking common sense.

- Then you have a small mind. - Small means, that I do know.

And now I best be off.

Ah, good afternoon, Duchess.

Ah, Mr Maule. I hope that you and Adelaide had a pleasant ride.

Charming, Duchess. I'll look forward to the next. Tuesday, we said.

- Tuesday morning at eight. - Eight?

Well, all right. Good afternoon again, Duchess.

And to you, Miss Palliser.

Well... For one of the Maule family to get up before noon,

it's quite a compliment

Tell me, my dear. How do you find him?

- Slippery. - Slippery?

- I can't get hold of him. - Yes...

Perhaps that's just as well.

They're not altogether a sound proposition, these Maul.

His sister ran away with a penniless ensign.

His brother is no longer spoken of and his father is indeed spoken of

but entirely for evil.

As for Maule Abbey, it's got grass growing out of the floor,

- but I dare say the horses will enjoy that - Yes!

But will I?

Ah! Now, that's exactly what I was coming to.

Now, you take Lord Fawn.

You could get hold of him. He ain't slippery.

Then you'd be married and everyone would respect you.

I mean, everyone shall respect me whatever I do.

Yes, of course you do. Of course.

Ah. Tea!

The boys and I have been shopping, Adelaide.

- It's made us very hungry. - Wait until your father gets here.

Hurry up. Planty. the boys are hungry.

Chair for cousin Adelaide.

Marie, you come and sit over here by me.

Silverbridge.

Such an afternoon! We've had shopping in Bond Street,

getting things for the boys to take back to school.

Silverbridge needed new breeches for something called the...

- The Field Game. - The big match is in a fortnight.

Silver will be playing. You'll come, Mama, won't you?

- Ain't far to Windsor. - You'll come too, Madame Goesler?

- You too, Adelaide. - Cousin Adelaide to you.

- Anyway you'll come? - Yes.

Does nobody invite me?

Of course we do, sir. We thought you'd be too busy.

- You always are, you know. - Better Silverbridge were more busy.

This Field Game, these breech, it's all very well.

His mid-half report don't speak too well of his studies.

Nor of yours, Gerald.

Will you kindly pay me some attention, sir?

- Cousin, all work and no play... - I'm merely advocating some work.

- Let us not talk of it just now. - It's got to be talked about some time.

The boys have not been near me all the time they've been at home.

Perhaps they realised you were a little preoccupied, Duke.

- You are always locked in your study. - You don't need to knock.

- The door is always open. - But we did knock.

The day we came home. You said we must go away.

- You had someone important coming. - I had. You should've come again.

- Later. - You weren't very encouraging.

What do you mean by that, Silverbridge?

Are you implying that I was discourteous?

- Well, you were very short, sir. - You accuse me of discourtesy?

- You will now apologise. - I'm not accusing you, sir.

Don't contradict your father, sir!

- You'll apologise as you are bidden. - I've done nothing to apologise for!

Silverbridge! Come back at once!

I'll not stay here and be bullied.

- Come back here this minute. - Silverbridge!

You will oblige me by coming back here at once...

...and saying you're sorry to your father.

Since you ask me, Mother...

...l apologise to everyone in this room, to you, Mother,

to you, Madame Goesler, and to you, cousin Adelaide,

to you, Father, and to you too, Gerald, for such an unpleasant scene.

Very nicely spoken.

- What else have you got to say, sir? - I don't think I've anything else to say.

Is there not one other special apology due?

- To whom, sir? - To me, sir!

I'm very sorry, sir. I lost my temper and spoke back to you.

And lastly, I too must apologise.

I have been unkind and possibly unjust.

I admit that I have been very busy these past days.

And very difficutt to come at.

But I shall make a point of not being busy

on the day of Silverbridge's match.

Goodbye, Silverbridge.

Well, goodbye-

Goodbye, Mother.

Heavens above. Well, I shall see you at the Field Game.

Anyway, I shall see you at the match. Bye-bye. Goodbye.

Goodbye.

A fiver. And I had another yesterday from Madame Goesler.

- How much did you get? - Three sovs from Mother

and two from Madame Goesler.

Of course, that's because I'm only a younger son.

- Get anything from the Governor? - No, he wouldn't think of it.

- He leaves all that to Mother. - He was horrid at tea yesterday.

- He ended up by being rather a brick. - I don't think he's forgiven me.

But he behaved handsome, saying he was sorry and that he'd come to the match.

- Because we were going away. - Handsome, all the same.

- He made it all right, don't you think? - He made it all right.

Until the next time.

My dear.

Lady Eustace.

What news do you bring for dear Lady Eustace from Prague?

I would have more had not Emilius been there before me.

Mr Emilius is in Prague? Pray God he stays there.

No such luck. He's back in London now or so the lawyers say.

- You have been to see the lawyers? - Yes, straight from the boat train.

They say that Emilius is back now in that lodging house near the Fleet.

But he has been in Prague and done his best to muddy the waters there.

- What did you find out, my dear? - Thank you.

Well, a Jew called Yosef Mealyus, that's their equivalent of Emilius,

a man answering to Emilius's description,

married a woman in a synagogue in a small town near Prague

about 15 years ago.

He brought her to live in Prague at an address near the Old Ghetto

and left her there about eight years back.

- Did you see her? - Hmm.

Ne, she moved. Weeks age.

Doubtless Emilius had hidden her away somewhere when he was over there.

- Where she is now, heaven knows. - But the wedding was recorded.

This woman was alive when Mr Emilius married Lady Eustace.

Surely that will be enough to prove the villain guilty of bigamy.

It's not as simple as that, my dear.

We have to prove that our Joseph Emilius

is identical with their Yosef Mealyus.

Mealyus is a very common name in that oountry.

Every other Jew is called Yosef.

But you say that the descriptions tally.

It's still not enough, Lady Eustace.

In order to prove bigamy, we have to find this woman

and then confront her with Emilius, and that's quite an undertaking.

As a result of what I told them,

the lawyers are sending a trained man of their own to find this woman.

I am confident that the truth will out in the end.

- You do not lack for friends. - Indeed not.

I'm afraid the whole thing will cost you rather heavy from first to last.

Not as heavy as Emilius would cost me.

I've made out a little account of my expenses.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a whole pile of correspondence in the study.

Poor man, he is so consciencious.

Despite the way they've treated him, he works hard enough to kill himself.

He must be very impressed with you, my dear,

to have gone all that way to Prague with things as they are for him just now.

I'm so grateful to Mr Bonteen.

He's been like a true knight to me. I know he will have his reward.

How I wish I could do something to repay him.

But you can, my dear. Indirectly.

It is very important just now that he should not be bothered

with petty domestic troubles.

Of course he mustn't be, the dear, good man.

Now, it happens that I have one or two unexpected charges to meet.

Uniforms for the servants, and so on.

Rather than bother Mr Bonteen for the money,

I was wondering if perhaps you, dear Lady Eustace,

could possibly see your way to...

Paying this money to you instead of your husband?

Oh, no, no, my dear. You must pay that to him.

It was money he spent for you, you understand?

But if as well as doing that, you could see your way

to lending me £50, only for a week or two, of course.

It would make matters in this household so very much easier.

Well, I'm afraid by the time I have paid this, I should be rather short.

I do understand, my dear.

Only, I am so afraid that if l have to bother Mr Bonteen for £50,

instead of borrowing it from you,

his poor mind might begin to break down altogether,

and he would no longer be so clear as we both might wish

about all those things he discovered in Prague.

Mrs Bonteen, dear, how very thoughtless I was being.

Of course we mustn't worry Mr Bonteen any further.

£25 now and £25 at the end of the week?

Dear Lady Eustace, that will serve most admirably.

I'm off now, my dear. Board of Trade, see how things are going there.

- A little luncheon first? - No time.

I must find out what the Duke of Omnium and his lackeys have been up to while I was away.

Doubtless the Duchess and her clique have been busy advancing the cause

of that infernal Irish coal-heaver.

- Oh, what is it, Collins? - Excuse me, sir and madam.

It's a clerical gentleman. A Mr Emilius, he says.

- He's come to see his wife. - Leave this to me!

- No! - Wait in the study, both of you.

- There is nothing to be afraid of. - Oh, my goodness!

- Mr Bonteen, take care. - Leave it to Mr Bonteen, dear.

Go.

Show in Mr Emilius.

The Reverend Mr Emilius.

Where is she? I desire to see my wife.

And she, sir, does not desire to see you.

Oh. Ashamed, is she?

But of course. She has put about scurrilous tales about me.

That I've sinned against her with other women.

If you mean, sir, that she accuses you of bigamy, you are quite right.

She has no proof. See here, Mr Bomeen.

- If she will just allow...

If she will just allow me the rents from the Scottish estate,

I'll go off quietly and trouble you no more.

You shall go off quietly, sir, and you shall have nothing.

And before long, you shall be punished as you deserve.

- Punished, sir? - I have been to Prague, sir.

Despite your attempts to hide the woman, I know you have a wife there.

It will not be many days before we have the final evidence.

And where and how will you find such evidence?

That is my business, Mr Mealyus.

Lies!

False, devilish lies.

I demand to see my wife!

Then go to Prague and seek her where you left her.

- Lord Fawn. - Ah, Miss Palliser.

Her Grace said that I should find you here.

Then I am much obliged to Her Grace for telling you.

Miss Palliser, it cannot have escaped your notice

during these past weeks, that I have become increasingly appreciative

of your presence.

- I can't say I have noticed. - Well, such is the case.

Indeed, today, as you see, I have purposely sought it out.

- Now you have found it. - Yes.

And found it as attractive as ever.

- Miss Palliser. - Lord Fawn.

Have you nothing to say of my presence?

Well, it is an undoubted fact, certainly.

- A pleasing fact, Miss Palliser? - Lord Fawn,

for heaven's sake, stop beating about the bush

and say whatever it is you have to say.

Oh, very well.

Adelaide Palliser, I love you.

You don't sound as if you do.

Oh, Adelaide, I do love you.

It still don't cany conviction.

Adelaide, I adore you!

Well, that's uncommon civil of you, Lord Fawn.

Now, for goodness' sake, get up!

Get up!

Can I not hope you may return my affection?

No!

I'm obliged to Your Lordship for telling me.

I suppose it does give a girl a bit of a lift.

It could indeed give a gin a bit of a lift.

A lift to being a peeress!

Of that honor I am quite unworthy.

Now, Lord Fawn, it's time for my ride.

How your modesty becomes you!

But if l say you are worthy, and I do,

then worthy you are, Adelaide.

My Adelaide!

I'm not your Adelaide.

If only your humility stands between us, then let me claim you at once.

Look here, Lord Fawn, I do not want to be claimed,

and I do want to go riding.

Now, you be a good baron or whatever you are, and let me go.

Such maidenly coyn.

Such delicacy of sentiment

Now you see how coy and delicate I am, Lord Fawn.

I'm sorry, but you just wouldn't take a hint.

It's jolly lucky for you I said no to being Mrs F.

I mean, you wouldn't want a wife who can give you half a stone

and still lick you out of the ling, now, would you?

Lord Fawn came to Park Lane after luncheon.

- What did he want? - He wanted to marry me.

Oh? Did you take him?

- No. - Rather rash of you, I'd say.

Lord Fawn could at least put a roof over your head.

Imagine being under it with him!

You could nip out quite often to see old friends, you know.

And there's worse men in the world than Fawn.

I'm beginning to think there are.

At least he don't play about with a girl. He asks her right out.

That's because he's desperate for a wife. Other men aren't.

Gerard Maule, you are so smug, I could hit you!

I wouldn't try it, missy. You might get as good as you gave.

- You ain't a gentleman, that's what. - Only just discovered that?

- No need to look so pleased with yourself! - Oh, but I'm not

On the contrary, Miss Palliser, I'm so conscious of my defects,

I could never presume to offer myself as a husband.

Least of all to a decent girl like you.

That's just it. When I'm with you, I don't care a bit for being decent.

I feel positively indecent. And I like it.

Now do you understand?

Oh dear, oh dear. Whatever shall we do with you? Hm?

I am so glad that you are beginning to see things my way about Mr Finn.

We always did, my dear.

And, of course, that was a fine performance of his in the Commons.

- He can give finer, if encouraged. - No doubt.

But don't hope for too much, too quick.

We need Mr Bonteen, whether we like him or not.

And so long as we need him, we can't do much for Mr Finn.

- I just don't see it. - If you have a barrel of gunpowder,

one doesn't place the tinderbox in the same room.

Excuse me, the Prime Minister wants me.

Good evening, Mr Finn.

- Mr Finn. - Duchess.

I've come from Lord Bremford and Lady Laura. They send their regards.

It was very good of you to carry them.

Her brother and his wife are here this evening.

But frankly, Mr Finn, I cannot ask Lady Laura

until the question of her relation to her husband is respectably settled.

That's all humbug, of course, but even a duchess, especially a new one,

must guard her wicket very carefully, at least for the first few overs.

I did not know Your Grace was a cricketer.

Yes, Silverbridge and Gerald are very keen.

When Planty is locked in his study, I join my boys for cricket on the lawn!

Silverbridge says I make a fine bowler!

- How is that? - Well held, Mr Finn.

I mustn't keep you all to myself.

If you could ask Glenoora not to be so open in her hostility to Bonteen, it might be tactful.

It would look better if she could bring herseif to invite him here, from time to time.

She always used to invite him until he proved himself unfit.

For private parties, yes, but for an evening like this.

After all, Palliser, these occasions do have a certain significance for the Liberal Party.

His continued absence might be misconstrued to mean a rifi.

Yes. The omission is perhaps too obvious.

The point is taken, Prime Minister.

Although I'm afraid my wife will not like it very much.

Indeed, I don't like it very much myself.

But I'll do what I can.

Glencora, my dear.

The Prime Minister is saying it might be politic

next time we have one of these gatherings to invite Mr Bonteen.

Well, I cannot ask the whole world.

But it would appear that he is the only one who is excluded.

I cannot abide the man and no more these days can you.

But the time is coming

when we may have to abide even those people we detest.

Things are very different with us since my uncle died.

I see, Your Grace.

Well, here comes Lord Chiltern.

So you can start by abiding him while he talks about the Trumperton foxes.

I'm not going to argue about my own property.

A word, Palliser, if I may.

- Lord Chiltern. - Palliser. That is, Duke.

I've been writing to you for months now. I haven't had an answer.

Been fobbed off with replies from the Duchess.

What about the foxes in Trumperton Wood?

The truth is, Lord Chiltern, I know nothing about foxes.

Well, I do, and I know they're being poisoned

in the one place in the whole kingdom where they are most prone to breed.

I fancy that sheep and barn fowl will go better in the long run.

In fact, I think that foxes will gradually be exterminated.

Exterminated?

No, I do not mean that I shall see fit to exterminate them myself.

I will oblige you so long as it is not detrimental to my other duties.

- If you'll excuse me... - Just a moment there.

- Palliser! - Lord Chiltern! May I assist you?

We don't like poison or traps any more than you do.

I'd nurse the foxes myself if l knew how.

- This matter now rests with the Duke. - It's no good talking to the Duke.

It's keeping him from his arithmetic.

He couldn't tell a pheasant sitting on a haystack

and wouldn't know a fox if he saw one.

- He cares for nothing but farthings. - Well, I care nothing for farthings.

What shall become of the foxes in Trumperton Wood?

It's very simple. I instructed Mr Fothergill, the agent, to see to it.

Ha! Fothergill won't take orders from a woman.

That is, he is a very obstinate man.

I dare say, and he could afford to be obstinate when the old Duke was alive.

The Old Duke was too grand to mine the accounts.

I am not so grand, Lord Chiltern.

And I have found some few errors which Mr Fothergill has to explain.

I fancy he'll be glad to atone by seeing to the foxes at Trumperton Wood.

Excellent

We've decided to have a Foxmaster-General.

Just the thing for Mr Finn.

Oswald is looking contented at last.

Something has been settled about Trumperton Wood.

- Mr Finn. - Lady Chiltern.

Actually, that's why we came up to town.

That and some affair about Laura's money.

Yes, I fear Lord Bremford is now too old to manage such things on his own.

He has grown old very suddenly.

And how do you find Laura, Mr Finn?

I find her very sad, Violet

She depends on you, you know.

I go there as often as I can.

- That's not quite all she wants. - What else can I do?

You can refrain from betraying her for as long as posible.

I've no intention of betraying her at all.

When you marry another woman, Laura will feel betrayed.

She told me I must marry whom I please and that she would love my wife.

I am sure she said all that and more, Mr Finn, but I know better.

That's absurd, Violet I can't be made celibate all my life

just because of Lady Laura.

I know, Phineas, I was merely warning you what will happen when you many.

Laura will feel betrayed.

- Here is Oswald. - Phineas!

You Irishman.

My dear. Have you been looking afler our friend, Phineas?

- We've been talking about Laura. - Yes, well, we must leave that

It's late and we must go, but I will call on you in the morning if l may.

There is something we must discuss which won't do here.

My dear.

Mr Finn. Oh, you look upset.

I have heard something to upset me.

From Lady Chiltern? As an old friend, may I ask what it was?

- I feel I cannot tell you. - Oh, come, now, Mr Finn!

Afier all that has passed between us over all these years?

I'm sorry, Madame Goesler, what Lady Chiltern said to me was for my own ears.

I'm sorry, Mr Finn. So sorry to have pried.

Never mind, old fellow. They're all the same, these women.

Prying, was she? That's what it looked like to me.

I should not have spoken as I did. It was unmanly and ungenerous.

She will soon find something else to pry into then forget about it.

What do you say we slip over to the club to find something stronger?

No women to worry us there.

They say the Prince may be looking in later.

Lady Glen, would you excuse us?

As I say, old fellow, I'm delighted things are looking up for you.

So am I, Barrington. An Irish pmrimony doesn't go far in London.

I'm afraid I haven't been very helpful to you these past months.

Never mind, Barlington. I know who's really been standing in my way.

Hm? Oh... You mean Bonteen, of course.

I'm afraid he will continue to stand in your way for some while longer.

- How much longer, Barlington? - Oh, it's hard to say.

Bonteen has made a lot of enemies since this row over the Exchequer.

Planty Pal will hardly speak to him.

The other Duke is no more than barely polite to him.

Even Gresham is beginning to wish that he were gone.

But Bonteen knows his business, Finn.

He is the only man who can son out this muddle about the imports levy.

Goodness knows, it was not his muddle.

So, for the time being, he must stay.

As long as he stays, it would be asking for trouble to let you in.

There'll be scraps between the two of you all over Whitehall.

Come on.

Hello, dear fellows.

Carnival night, as you can see.

We expect the Principal Boy any minute. Drink?

I remember not more than 20 years ago when the monarchy was so unpopular

that the Prince Consort's carriage was booed in the streets.

That was because he was a foreigner, but he's safely dead now.

I don't think anybody ever had such feelings for the Old Widow

and certainly not for this young prince.

He seems a pleasant enough fellow.

Empty-headed and running to a stomach.

He has that piggy Hanoverian look in his eye.

And yet you're here, Monk, like the rest of us.

I only came here to get away from the Duchess's crush at Park Lane.

And what do I find?

Now that you're here, Monk, you ain't showing any signs of going away.

Oh, I'll stay and see the show, and why not?

Who am I to shun the company of a Prince of the Blood?

Very surprised, Bonteen, to hear that you've been helping Lady Eustace.

- Why surprised, Lord Fawn? - She is rather shady, you know.

Is she, indeed? I understand that you were once engaged to marry the lady.

Well, yes, but I had to break it off.

She insisted on keeping those diamonds which weren't hers at all.

At least, not hers at the time.

- Well, they are nobody's now.

Bonteen is as sick as a gelded ram because he wasn't invited to Park Lane this evening.

But, of course, now that I am safely quit of Lady Eustace,

I can afford to think of her with a certain...charity.

And I must say, I was always very sorry

she had to go and marry that odious little Jew, Emilius.

Oh, we'll soon get rid of him.

And then what? Mr Phineas Finn!

Mr Phineas Finn, or some such fellow as that,

will be after the little lady's money at once.

What is it, Mr Bonteen, that Phineas Finn shall do?

You've crept upon us, sir, unawares.

What do you mean by that? I came here like any other man.

I have been here as openly as yourself.

I mean, sir, eaves droppers cannot expect to hear good of themselves.

I do not wish to hear good of myself from you.

Now, what is it I shall be after?

Steady on, Phineas, what's the use of a row?

No use at all, but if you heard your name as I've heard mine,

you would defend it, as I shall.

What do you say, Monk? You heard what was said.

I heard Mr Bonteen remark that you or someone like you

would under certain circumstances be after a certain lady.

It was a very vulgar speech, Phineas,

but your own behaviour has not much improved on it.

If I were you, I would let the matter drop.

In fact, you must let it drop.

- Good evening, gentlemen. - Good evening.

- Phineas, think no more of it. - How can I not think of it?

- Bear yourself as if you did not. - And leave him the victor?

Of this be sure, the more noise you make in this wretched affair,

the more blame will attach to him and the less to you.

- Why should any blame attach to me? - Sit down, Phineas.

Enjoy some of Dolly's champagne.

Monk.

A pert little miss from Detroit had lips that were very adroit,

She could purse them right in to the point of a pin,

And fan them right out like a quoit.

Capital, Mr Longslaffe.

Yes, capital. Puts me in mind of a story...

Ah, Lord Fawn! And how are you getting on in the matrimonial stakes?

They tell me that your latest fancy is that country cousin of Omnium.

I don't think, sir, that much can come of that.

Dear me, Fawn, how unlucky your ventures always are.

This Palliser girl is off, you say?

The bet is £100.

There's a story going about that you came a dropper over Madame Goesler.

- Six - Six is the main.

And before that, who was it, hm?

Ah! Lady Eustace! The gay little widow who is always stealing diamonds.

My mama was quite concerned about you.

Don't take it as a personal snub, my dear fellow.

You haven't answered my question, Monk, why should any blame attach to me?

I am not saying any will unless you become loud and resentful.

The thing is not worth your anger.

I will make him swallow his words.

On the contrary, you'll go home now and sleep it off.

- With Earl and me. - Yes, come along, Finn.

It's not the proper thing to leave while the Prince is still here.

Then we must do the improper thing rather than have a row in front of him,

which is what you will do if you stay.

Come along, my dear friend.

One could say you missed your chance, Lord Fawn.

You might have set up in partnership with Lady Eustace.

You could have put people off their guard with that uncommon respectable face

while Her Light-Fingered Ladyship went round collecting their trinkets.

- Four, and wins. - Oh, very good.

Away you go, Phineas. The night air will do you good.

I tell you what it is, I don't think I'm a vindictive man by nature,

but with Bonteen, I mean to make it even one of these days.

You mustn't talk like that.

A man of your experience should know better than to show his hand.

What have I got to hide? I loathe him for the viper that he is.

Upon my soul, I regret that an end has come to duelling.

You've already done your share of that

Don't bother your head. Just go quietly home.

The man's insolence angers me to such an extent

that I can't refrain from speaking out.

He hasn't the spirit to accept a challenge or I would challenge him.

- Tut, tut, tut. - What do you want, Dolly?

I just came to see what was up.

Nothing's up. Finn is just going home.

Good night, Erie, Longslaffe, Monk.

The Prince cut him dead in there. You never saw such a thing.

- Cut him dead as catfish. - Good. I imagine he feels as I do.

My God, I do hate that man.

It's too clean a death for him. He should be thrown into a snake pit.

Except he'd probably poison the snakes.

Good night, Barrington, Monk. Good night, Dolly.

I do hope he won't do anything silly.

That life preserver was rather unexpected.

Oh, no. Lots of fellows are carrying them these days.

- I even thought of purchasing one. - Oh, don't worry about Finn.

He wouldn't kill a fly when it really came to it.

I don't think I'd mind even if he did.

With a man like Bonteen.

The Prince gave him a rough time too, teasing him about Lady Eustace.

It really was rather heaven.

The House of Hanover has never been noted for style.

What the devil?

Oh, do come in, my Lord.

I say, old fellow, you look rather low.

So would you if you were staying in my father's house.

Oh... How is he?

He's bored, he's lonely, he's querulous.

He feels he's being neglected.

I fear he may be. Not many people go there.

It would be better they should both come and stay at Harrington.

My father will not hear of it. Of course, Laura will not leave him.

Oh, Well...

Phineas, I've come to London to see the lawyers about Laura's money.

It seems that Kennedy is so obviously insane

that his cousin is managing his affairs for him.

This cousin has promised that he will return Laura's dowry

or at least the income from it.

Lord Brentford will be glad to see the money back, I think.

There's no real need for it, Finn.

Anyway, it's Laura's money, not my father's.

When she gets it, I dare say she will pay something towards their household.

What is all this to me, Chiltern?

You may well ask. Last night, I said there was something we must discuss.

- Yes. - Well...

Before I came to London, I had a very long letter from Laura,

in which she expressed a certain intention,

an intention which she has since reaffirmed to me in person.

Yesterday, in fact.

She deliberately chose a time when she knew my father would be out of the house...

I tell you this that you may understand it is an extremely delicate matter.

For heaven's sake, Chiltern, how does all this concern me?

It concerns you most intimately, Finn.

Laura has asked rne to arrange, knowing as she does

that your affairs are none too ample,

that some part of the income from her money should be paid each year to you.

To me? That's out of the question.

Or at least you should agree to borrow what you need until your affairs are straightened.

Again, Chiltern, it's out of the question.

That's what I told her.

You lrishmen! I'm very pleased indeed that you see it the same way.

But, you know, Laura is a very persistent woman.

She has sworn she will not rest until the offer has been made to you.

Barrington, what's the matter? ls the place on fire?

You haven't heard what's happened to Bonteen?

Fallen into that snake pit, has he?

I quarrelled with the brute at the club last night.

If ever a man deserved to be thrashed...

Mr Bonteen has been thrashed right enough, Phineas.

Mr Bonteen has been murdered within half a mile of the club.

Murdered?

I have come here to put you on your guard.

I have reason to believe that an accusation will be made against you.

Against Phineas? For Gods sake, Erie, why?

After the police recognised Bonteen,

they came straight round to the Bear Garden

and spoke to those of us who were still there.

Luckily, the Prince had left by then.

And what did the police hear at the Bear Garden?

They heard that you'd quarrelled with Bonteen.

They heard that you were carrying a life preserver.

It was with just such a weapon that Bonteen was clubbed to death.

I've always carried something of the kind

ever since Kennedy was garrotted.

Here it is. As it is.

Let anyone who likes make the most of it.

I shall leave 'rt there till the police come here. If they come here.

- I fear you must expect them. - Leave ilthere, Chillem.

What other gossip did they hear

from my loyal fellow members at the Bear Garden?

They know, as we all know,

Bonteen's departure would remove the last obstacle to your own promotion.

They cannot suppose that I would kill a man for that.

- Phineas... - Who knows what they might suppose?

There is one more thing yet, Phineas.

After the police left the Bear Garden,

they went straight to the house of Lord Fawn.

Ah! So Fawn has a finger in the pie.

- And...l have since heard...

Come in.

I am Superintendent Worth of Scotland Yard.

You, sir, are Mr Phineas Finn?

I, sir, am Mr Phineas Finn.

This is my friend, Lord Chiltern, and this is Mr Barlington Erie.

Mr Erie, I already know. You're here, sir, before me, it seems.

Why should he not be here?

Kindly state your business at once or have the goodness to leave.

Very well. Mr Bonteen, a gentleman with whom you are acquainted,

has been murdered in a passage near the Bear Garden club.

His skull was beaten in with a cudgel or bamon.

- Similar to one in your possession. - So I understand.

There is my life preserver, which I've carried for some years now

and which I have yet to use on any man at all.

Sergeant if you please.

Now, just before you left the club,

which you did at about the same time as Mr Bonteen,

you and he had a violent quarrel.

- I hate him and he hates me. - The past tense is more appropriate.

Whatever may have happened to Mr Bonteen has nothing to do with me.

When I left the Bear Garden, I came back here to bed!

Did you go through the passage down the street

to eastward of the club, Tumble Lane, it is called.

No, I turned off to the left well before that passage

and I took my usual route home through Berkeley Square.

But you have used that passage from time to time?

Yes, of course I have.

I came through it last night with Mr Erle from the Duchess of Omnium's.

But when I went home, Superintendent, I took my shortest route.

Through Berkeley Square.

As you say, sir.

- Is this the coat you were wearing? - It is.

Would you be so kind as to slip it on?

Now, sir, Lord Fawn has told us that on his way home,

he heard someone hurrying from the direction of Berkeley Square.

He turned his head, he saw a figure come out of street from the square,

go round the corner to the right and run onto the passage at Tumble Lane.

- And that was all he saw? - Not quite.

The figure, Mr Finn, was of just your height,

or so it seemed to Lord Fawn, and was dressed like yourself

in a black silk hat and an overcoat of a rather unusual grey.

Upon my soul, Lord Fawn sees in the dark like a cat!

The figure passed under a street lamp.

Gaslight can make a deal of difference to colour.

Lord Fawn also remarked the cut of the coat.

No, Mr Finn, pray do not trouble to take it off.

Sergeant.

Phineas Finn, it is my disagreeable duty, sir,

to ask you to accompany me to Bow Street Police Station.

I must also warn you that anything you say from now on

may be taken down in writing and used in evidence.