All language subtitles for 2009-01-01 - Nemesis.en

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Ich sturze ab, ich sturze ab!
Ich kann sie nicht halten!

Bin ich im Himmel?

Am I in Heaven?

Miss Marple?

- Yes.
- I'm Mr Broadribb.

You're not terrifying, after all.

- Should I be?
- Mr Rafiel called you Nemesis.

The bequest is modest

A gramophone?
It's very thoughtful of Jason but...

- Oh, no, Mr Rafiel left you ã500.
- Oh.

But there Is a condition attached...

..which he wanted to tell you himself.

Jane, I wish you to investigate a
possible crime and right a dreadful wrong.

The pieces of the puzzle I have,
myself, assembled

but it will be for you
to fit them together into a complete

and, I suspect, most terrible picture.

Then,my dear,I imagine you returning to
your beautiful roses, carefree again.

But first, you must once more become
that goddess of retribution and righteous anger.

Once more, be Nemesis.

Let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an everlasting stream.

And there was this.
Two tickets to a mystery coach tour.

"of your choosing
to support you if danger threatens...

which it may."

The choice is yours.

I know the deadline looms.

That's what deadlines are for,
to loom and scare

but until the muse descends...

You're my agent, Marjorie,

just tell the publishers the new
Raymond West will be sensational.

Hold, please, Marjorie.

Raymond West.

Oh, Sophia.

Avril? No, I haven't seen Avril for...

Hold, please, Sophia.

Avril! I didn't mean it.
You were perfect...

Marjorie, I'm writing a novel, not
baking a cake. How do I know how long it's...

Tuesday week?
Oh, tell them what the hell you like.

Hello?

Oh, Avril. I knew you'd be back!

I knew you'd be back, my...

Aunt Jane.

I tried to telephone
but the line's always engaged.

How wonderfully lovely to see you.

- My favourite aunt.
- Your only aunt, Raymond.

- Is something the matter?
- I've had a strange request.

Fascinating.

What kind of man was Jason Rafiel?

He was German...

but left in 1933
when the Nazis burned his books.

He wrote about justice.

I admired him more than I can say.

And he'd have done anything for me.

What did he mean by "a possible crime"?

Something that happened, that may
or may not have been a crime?

Or a crime that hasn't happened yet
but possibly will.

Daffodil Tours?

Find where Truth lies
and you will find the truth.

I could do with a holiday.

Avril and Sophia can wait.

- I like a girl in uniform.
- I'll take those for you.

Just wait in the barn for a moment.

- Beauty and the beast.
- Sydney and Margaret Lumley.

- Morning.
- Good morning.

- Sir... Good morning.
- Morning.

Either Michael Faber or Laurence Raeburn.
They're the only single travellers.

He looks like an off-duty undertaker.

Could be handy if someone's murdered.

Good morning.

- Morning.
- Good morning.

- Welcome to Daffodil Tours.
- Morning.

Amanda Dalrymple and friend. I hope
he knows what he's letting himself in for.

Why? Is she another of your...
Certainly not. Perish the thought.

- Ray! Quelle surprise!
- Oui, isn't it?

You've brought your dinky typewriter.

Are your fingers tip-tip-tapping
with a new novel?

They never never stop.

Er... Meet my aunt, Miss Jane Marple.

The Honourable Amanda Dalrymple.

What a curiously charming hat!

Raymond's treating me
to a little break and...

Oh, my solicitor and general... thing.

- Derek Turnbull.
- Sit.

What fun, eh? Yes.

Raeburn?

Even the lower orders
need a holiday sometime.

Evidently.

- Just wait inside a moment.
- Thank you.

Poor chap. Tank Regiment, from his tie.

Captain Martin Waddy
and his wife Rowena.

- Don't fuss. It's fine.
- Sorry.

Good morning, Sisters. Welcome.

Thank you.

There's something about nuns, don't you think?
All that scratchy black.

Oh. Mother Superior Agnes Carson
and Sister Clotilde Merryweather.

What a merry little band we are.

We're just waiting for our last passenger.
Sorry for the delay.

- Don't mention it.
- Why, thank you.

I'm Georgina Barrow, your guide and driver.
We nearly left without you.

But you did not. Good.

Yes. Good. Thank you.

Guten Morgen. Michael Faber.

- He's a bloody German.
- Shh!

- I beg your pardon?
- Oh, nothing. I was just wondering.

- This your first time over here?
- Second.

I was in the Luftwaffe.

I'm sure you're most welcome, Mr Faber.

Thank you, Sister.

Old sins cast long shadows.

Do you get the impression
everybody knows everybody?

What would I do without you?

Ladies and gentlemen,
on behalf of Daffodil,

welcome... to our little mystery tour.

And it's off we go!

Let justice roll down like waters,

and righteousness
like an everlasting stream.

I expect that's the map
that he used to bomb us.

The war's over.

- May I, Mr Raeburn?
- Oh, please.

- I prefer a coach to a train, don't you?
- Yes.

A straight line's all very well but twists
and turns are so much more absorbing.

What brings you on the tour?

I was kindly sent a ticket by a gentleman
who remembered me from a house party.

But I can't recall him.

- As one gets older...
- Amos Flaire.

- Flair? How unusual.
- With an E.

Oh.

- I don't know why I can't remember him.
- Oh, do shut up!

Daffodil Tours asked me along
to get them a mention in Tatler.

What's Biarritz done
to deserve your absence?

- Too many other expenses.
- Who asked you?

Do you know Miss Dalrymple?

I was in service to her uncle as his butler.

Isn't that odd?

Isn't it?

Martin, don't feel like
you have to do everything.

It's a holiday.

I'm not an invalid.

Sister? Sorry...

Have you been to Dorking?

- Not to my knowledge.
- Oh.

- Are there many nuns in Dorking?
- No.

No. You must just have one of those faces.

Ladies and gentlemen, our first stop
is the historic Forrester Grange,

ancestral home of the Forrester family.

Is something the matter?

It's where I was in service
to Lord Forrester.

This splendid basilica recalls the glory
of ancient Rome in the heart of England.

Notice the gilded gods
looking down on us lesser mortals

as we make our way through the riot of
coloured marble and on into the ballroom

The ninth Lord Forrester
was renowned for extravagant balls,

attracting the crème de la crème
of society.

The Prince of Wales is said to have danced
the fandango here in 1814.

Moving on.

And there's Lord Forrester
with his family in 1772.

Attributed to Thomas Gainsborough
but who really knows?

The wall hangings are of crimson silk
by the Huguenot weavers of Spitalfields.

Moving on.

136 feet in length.

The long gallery was designed
to afford variety and amusement

for those ladies retreating from the unseemly
revelry of gentlemen still at dinner.

The original wood panelling
was replaced in 1767...

Are you unwell?

Unsettled.

- Memories?
- Yes.

Why have we come here of all places?

- It is a coincidence, isn't it?
- Another one.

First Miss Dalrymple
and now Forrester Grange.

- Is Lord Forrester still in residence?
- No, he's in a nursing home.

Not long for this world, so I hear.

- His children will have quite a responsibility.
- Lord Forrester is childless.

His niece, Miss Dalrymple,
will inherit the estate.

Not that she deserves to.

It could just be a coincidence
that we're here.

- Oh, shut up!
- Please, don't get hysterical.

Don't take any more of those.
They're Benzedrex, not Dolly Mixtures.

The Good Samaritan.

Yes... Of all the parables, isn't loving thine enemy
Christ's most important teaching?

- That reminds me. Do you have a Bible?
- Out, out, out, out!

Out, out, out, out, out, out, out,
out, out, out, out!

This tour is over.

Fini! Back to the charabanc.

This house is mine or it soon will be
and it's no longer open to visitors!

Go on! Off with you! Shoo!

Sling your hooks!

Vamoose!

Who the hell put that there?

Why are you all persecuting me?

Teeny accident.

I'll fetch staff.

Who is it?

I'm not sure.

Aren't coach parties meant to be
sedate affairs?

This is more like Tosca, I'm glad to say.

Chapter five, verse 24.
"Let justice roll down like waters."

The Book of Amos.

Raeburn says he was given
his ticket by an Amos Flaire...

..which is an anagram of...

..Rafiel.

Jason always liked to tease me.

And he always got people to do
what he wanted.

- Where does Faber fit in?
- Who? Oh, Michael Faber.

Yes, I wonder...

Driving on into the heart of England,
we'll be seeing bosky groves and luscious pasture

before arriving at Medhurst,
a typically charming village,

nestling below the picturesque
Bonaventure Rocks.

Er, we'll be staying in the Flying Horse,
well known for its excellent cuisine.

I'm sure they'll do you a sandwich in
your room while you work on your novel.

Very nice.

Excuse me...

- You're Raymond West.
- I know.

- Colin Hards.
- Hello.

- How's the new one coming along?
- Pretty well, pretty well.

Well, I do hope yours isn't a silent order,
otherwise conversation will be terribly one-sided.

- I know a joke about two nuns.
- Would you pass the pepper?

And what tempted you from shady
cloisters on this little jaunt, hm?

An anonymous benefactor
sent us the tickets.

Some grateful soul we must have
helped along life's thorny path.

- I've read all your books.
- How kind... Colin.

I reckon I've got a book in me.

You must let it out, then.

She's always going in
for things like this, you know.

If it's not crosswords, it's Spot the Ball,
and if it's not Spot the Ball, it's Comic Captions...

It's the first time I've won anything, these tickets.
I can't really even remember entering.

Well, Rowena, she deserved a holiday.
It's the first we've...

The first we've managed since
the war,with all the operations.

Yeah. I was all but blind
when Army Welfare...

When Army Welfare brought him home

and then the woman said it would be a long battle,
but he's good as new.

- Except I can't dance, for some reason.
- No.

He's lost all his sense of rhythm,
and we used to love to foxtrot.

I don't suppose if I...
showed you my jottings...

Busy, busy, busy, I'm afraid.
Ah, success, Les!

Bubbly?
Thanks, but I much prefer to keep a clear head.

I much prefer you out of your uniform.

Thanks, Les.

- Champagne!
- Oh, thank God!

Saving your presence, girls.

Ooh!

- Isn't she lovely, eh?
- Oh, yes. Lucky chap.

Do you drink?

No, thank you.

A thimbleful will do no harm.
Thank you, darling. I'm desperate.

- Where's Mr Faber?
- He wasn't hungry.

- Long life!
- Long life!

- Cheers!
- Cheers.

- That's nice, isn't it?
- Yes, it's nice.

Chin-chin.

It wouldn't seem fair
if you missed out.

My nephew can be so extravagant
and even though he can afford it...

Thank you... No.

In case you change your mind.

It's never too late.

I learned
that from a man called Jason Rafiel.

- What sort of a man was that?
- Was?

Is.

My English.

Your English is excellent.

He was a dear old friend
with a son called Michael

who stayed in Germany
when Jason was forced to leave.

The boy came back for holidays,
of course.

The war put a stop to that.

What did your friend say
about this son?

That he wanted
to be a pilot when he grew up,

and that he had
frighteningly intelligent eyes.

I am Michael Rafiel.

I'm so sorry.

My ticket was with his final letter.

He said
perhaps it could make things correct.

Things?

But too late.

You should choose better friends,
I think.

Excuse me.

Yes.

No.

Ray, I'm bored.
Tell me a bedtime story.

I'm trying to work.

- Don't be so mean.
- Very well.

- Once upon a time...
- Oh, good.

Once upon a time, Amanda,
there was a sophisticated woman

who lacked one thing,
the ability to take no for an answer.

You used to say yes.

That was then. You never understood
my artistic temperament.

Old times' sake?

- Oh, sorry.
- Don't go.

Miss Dalrymple was just looking
for something that she lost.

Quite. But... it's no longer here.

Oh, I meant to ask you about
your lovely dress.

- A long-cherished favourite, clearly.
- Amanda.

What, darling?

Mr Raeburn?

- What's happened?
- I think he fainted and fell down the stairs.

OK.

Verity?

I'm not Verity. I'm Margaret.

You, bed.

We should get a doctor.

No, no. I've got
some heart mixture in my room.

We don't want
the tour disrupted, Raeburn.

Jason's note.

"Find where Truth lies."

Truth with a capital T.

- So?
- Oh...

- Raymond, you're a writer.
- Yes.

Well, what's another word for truth?

Verity.

Margaret Lumley thought
Raeburn was calling her Verity.

Perhaps she's the girl in the photo that had
such a dramatic effect on Amanda.

Why are you all persecuting me?

And perhaps Verity was the reason for
Michael's argument with Mr Raeburn.

Who is Verity? What is she?

If only we knew what this crime was...

..or will be.

Verity...

Verity.

- Verity.
- Sh. Sh.

Martin. Come back to bed.

It's all right. You're safe.

Come on. That's it.

Come on.

That's it.

Mr Raeburn?

You'll miss breakfast.

Mr Raeburn?

- Colin?
- Oh.

- Oh, it's Detective Constable, actually.
- Oh.

This is my aunt.

Of course.
You're the writer, aren't you?

Oh, well, perhaps one day.

- Will there be a postmortem on Mr Raeburn?
- No need... He had a heart condition.

But er... shouldn't you
test his medicine for poison?

- Poison?
- Who'd want to poison him?

Besides, erm...
Mr Lumley and Mr erm...

Mr... the German said the door
was locked when they helped
him back, and he had the key, so...

Well, the medicine couldn't have been got at.

Raymond, are you really too busy
to help an aspiring author?

I'll take your advice, Aunt Jane,
as usual.

Are your jottings typed up?

- Oh, yeah, yeah. They can be.
- Do test the medicine, just in case.

We'll see.

It's ghastly. It disrupts the itinerary.

Margaret!

- Why did Raeburn call you that?
- He didn't. I don't know.

Come on, sit down. Sit down.

Sorry for the delay.
I have to deal with the formalities.

- We're just waiting for the police.
- The police?

It's routine with a sudden death.

Wasn't it strange,
Mr Raeburn coming out with that name?

Verity.

Quite unusual.

I wonder who she could be... if anyone.

I don't suppose any of us knows a Verity. I...

I certainly don't.

We did.

She was a novice at St Elspeth's,

our old convent before the order
moved to London after war.

We took her in one winter's day, 1939...

- What brought her to you?
- She was running from a man.

And the next summer he found her.

But I sent him away
in no uncertain manner.

She owed me money. I let her have
a room in my house in Kilburn and she did a flit.

I just... tracked her down.

She had a different story.
An over-attentive landlord.

- No. No.
- A few days later, she disappeared.

- Got nothing to do with me.
- Did she tell you where she'd come from?

No. No, she didn't. No.

She did say that she'd followed
her mother into service.

A servant family?

It's just a thought but the girl
in the photograph that got broken...

Mr Raeburn seemed to know her.

Verity was a housemaid's daughter
at Forrester Grange.

- Raeburn was very fond of her and she of him.
- And her father?

She was told he was Arthur Hunt,

an under-gardener who died
when she was a baby,

but, in fact, she was born
the wrong side of the blanket.

- A love child?
- I doubt love came into it, knowing her mother.

She never did say
who the real father was.

Verity followed her mother into service,
but she was caught stealing and ran away.

That child would never steal.

I loathe dishonesty, and
seeing her in a fruit bowl was just too much.

Weren't you arguing with Mr Raeburn
at Forrester Grange?

We disagreed about the war.

And so?

Do you know where Verity is now?

She's dead.

Sometimes I... I get vibrations.

Quite a bother, but he is usually right.

- Oh.
- Oh, love. Are you all right?

- He's seen too much death.
- Go to him.

Do you want to go upstairs?

Blessed are they that mourn,
for they shall be comforted.

It's you, madam.

You stayed here before.
In wartime, summer 1940.

Don't be so stupid.
What makes you think it was me?

- I remember your manner.
- You remember wrong. Now go away.

We're all in considerable distress.

Miss Barrow, are those regulation issue? Daffodil Tours
like their staff to look their best.

Wise policy. Point of interest,
who runs Daffodil Tours?

Mr. Daffodil.

What will he think of
a death on the tour?

I'd imagine he'd be
as shocked as I am.

What's next?

An invigorating walk.

Stout shoes, please, and...
shorts, if you've got the legs.

I don't think I'll come.

Oh, love, are you still
feeling upset?

I'm tired.

She was very kind, wasn't she?
Sister Clotilde.

Yeah. She's very calming.

Come on, then. Blow the cobwebs away.

- OK.
- I'll see you downstairs.

Yeah.

You're at liberty to explore as you wish,
from now on,

and we'll meet back
at the Flying Horse this evening.

It's a steep climb up to the rocks...

Mr Faber, keep up.

You said it is allowed to walk alone.

I don't blame him.
Something's going on.

- Let's keep our spirits up.
- All these coincidences...

Everyone's connected to everyone else...

- Not us.
- I think Mrs Lumley might be right.

There's a very pleasant riverside walk
for those of you who prefer.

- What could have upset Mr Faber?
- His name is not Faber.

I have to tell someone.
His name is Michael Rafiel.

And I think he killed Verity.

During the war we took in wounded
servicemen at St Elspeth's

those that hospital could do
nothing more for

and, for one reason or another,
they couldn't go home.

We had our nursing skills and some
medical support and did our best for them.

Though, in truth, it wasn't always enough.

And then in 1940, the Battle of Britain,
Michael's aircraft was shot down

and Verity found him alive.

- We gave him sanctuary.
- A German airman?

Well, love thine enemy.

Another German pilot was nearly killed by
local villagers when they found him.

Verity nursed him in secret,
away from our official patients.

- They fell in love?
- Yes.

I remember the day she left.

She was keeping vigil with Ralph Collins,
an RAF pilot who was nearing his end.

And then she told me that she and
Michael were running away together

and she was to meet him here
in Medhurst on Bonaventure Rocks.

And I reminded her that
she had offered herself to God.

I told her to come to the chapel
and pray to St Elspeth for strength

to tell Michael that
she must never see him again.

And pray she did...

and St Elspeth gave her the strength.

I must confess I was very surprised.

Young love can be so strong.

But Mother Superior was right,
as she always is,

and Verity chose God
over her passion for Michael.

I wished her good luck
and off she went to tell him.

But she never came back.

And a week or so later,
when we were burying poor Ralph Collins,

news reached us that Michael had been captured
and taken to a prisoner-of-war camp.

We never heard from Verity again.

- Did you report her missing?
- Yes.

But to my everlasting shame,

I only told police that she'd gone
into Medhurst on an errand.

I couldn't mention Michael because I would have
faced prison myself for harbouring the enemy

And it was my fault he killed her.

We can't say that.

Thwarted desire can unleash evil
even in the best of souls.

You still think all
of this is a coincidence?

Forrester Grange,
Raeburn, Verity?

- Well, no, but, if I can tell you about this case...
- But what, you worm?

Well, I don't see what we can
do about it, you see.

The principle of the matter is
there's a lot of factors...

We? One doesn't keep
a dog and bark oneself.

Ah, dog or worm? Dog or worm?

That's a difficult question because
there's a number of permutations.

Oh, go away, Derek.

You...!

- I've had enough of it, Sydney. I'm frightened.
- We're not stopping now.

- Please...
- I can't manage without you, darling.

We're in this together.

It's not me you
care about, is it?

Wait! Don't be silly.

Slow down!

I know who you are.

A few years older and dressing sharper...

..but it's you.

Is it?

I've got a proposition.

Come to my room later,
without your husband.

- You all right?
- Yeah, I'm fine.

You can see right to the coast,
apparently, from the top.

Yeah?

You know...

I think I'll wait for you here.

- Is it playing up?
- No, it's fine.

- I'll wait with you.
- No, no, you go on, it's fine.

- All right.
- Yeah. I'll see you later.

- Bye, love.
- Yeah.

What do you want?

Georgina?

Wasn't it Cocteau who said:
"Écrire est un acte d'amour.

S'il ne I'est pas, il n'est qu'criture?"

Hm?

Writing should be an act of love,
otherwise, it's nothing but scribble.

I've had the report on
Mr Raeburn's heart medicine.

Not a trace of poison but I did order
a postmortem and you were right.

He was poisoned.

When?

At the latest, soon after he went to bed.
At the earliest, seven o'clock.

Exactly, Mr West. Could someone
have slipped it into his champagne?

Certainly.

Hi. Sorry, has anyone seen Rowena?

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,

thy kingdom come, thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

We don't know she was pushed.
Perhaps she just lost her footing.

Er, no, no, I can't see it.

Oh, Mr Hards is right, Raymond.
Of course Rowena Waddy was murdered.

What have you got there?

Just a piece of straw.

What about this figure you saw?

I only glimpsed him. Dark jacket, hat...

See, you say "him".

- Could it have been a woman?
- I suppose so.

- Is there something over there?
- No.

No, there isn't.

Why not treat this
as an accident for now?

One of our group is a killer

and until we know why they murdered
Mr Raeburn and possibly Verity Hunt...

Don't put their guard up?

Exactly.

Now...

Do you know
of a man called Jason Rafiel?

I thought she must have gone down
another way.

I came back, but she wasn't there.
I took a nap...

I didn't sleep well last night
and when I woke... still no sign of her.

- Is your sleep often disturbed?
- Yeah.

The name...

..Verity...

..almost drives me mad.

Is that the real reason that you're here?

I advertised in the personal columns.

"Haunted by Verity, desperate for
the truth. Please contact."

I received two tickets by post.

Her name on a card.

Had you, perhaps,
met Verity somewhere?

Forrester Grange,
or where the nuns were, St Elspeth's?

Or er... Kilburn,
where she lodged with Mr Lumley?

- If I had, I doubt I'd remember.
- Why not?

Somewhere in here
is shrapnel from Dunkirk.

My memory conked out.
It took six months in Dover Hospital

for me to recover it... and be identified.

It was Christmas
before I was reunited with Rowena.

Did you tell her about Verity?

It upset me too much.

Yes, Sydney told me about Verity Hunt and,
yes, I suppose there is a resemblance.

Especially when we first saw you
on the coach.

What do you mean?

You were less... sophisticated.

No jewellery, hardly any make-up.

Like you were when Mr Raeburn
called you Verity.

Sydney prefers me like that sometimes.
It reminds him of her. So what?

Had you met anyone else
in the group before?

No, thank you.

So, that afternoon...

I was upset with Sydney.

I went up to those rocks
on my own all the time.

Exactly where?

One rock's the same as another.

Right?

One rock's the same as another.

I was looking for Margaret.
She was in a bad mood.

What's this got to do with
Mrs Waddy's accident?

Perhaps you'd prefer to tell me about Verity.
I've got nothing to hide.

Autumn '39, when my mother passed away,
I advertised for a lodger.

Yeah. Just for the company.

I let her have room,
even though she couldn't quite afford it

Sometimes we used to go to the flicks.

I'd get her chocolates.

Sundays we used to listen to the wireless.

I asked her to marry me. She ran away.

I had this picture postcard from Medhurst
saying a very nice sorry,

so I traced her to St Elspeth's
in the hope that...

well, I could talk her
into changing her mind

but... they wouldn't let me in.

I wouldn't harm her in a million years.

If you want to know who scared her,
it's the Honourable Amanda bloody Dalrymple.

- Of course I scared her...
- You're not obliged to answer.

And you're not obliged to interrupt.

Abusus non tollit usum, Detective Constable.

And hic haec hoc dickory dock.

You're not in court now.

It was me
who had her dismissed for stealing.

Verity doesn't sound like a thief,
from what I've heard.

You're no judge of character.
Look at you and Avril.

I'm an excellent judge of character.

Should we leave you alone?

I was thinking...

when you broke that photograph, it did seem
rather more than mere disapproval of a thief.

Yes. Why would you hate her so much?

I don't know. I...

Of course, you do inherit Forrester Grange...

as the next of kin to Lord Forrester.

What's that to do with anything?

You said that Verity grew up believing
her father had died

but suppose he was Lord Forrester.

Yes. When her mother died
and Verity turned 21,

Uncle changed his will in favour of her
because she was his only child.

Naturally I was furious at the prospect
of losing my inheritance, and I told her the truth.

That she was nothing more than
the illegitimate result of a sordid romp

between her tart of a mother
and my goat of an uncle.

She was remarkably upset, and that's why
she ran away, and that's the last I saw of her.

But you are Lord Forrester's heiress now,
so... Verity must be dead.

Absens haeres non erit.

Which means if you're not around,
you don't get the swag.

Four years ago, I had her declared dead
as she'd been missing for seven without trace.

Do you by any chance remember
Verity wearing a locket around her neck,

as she was in the photograph?

I'm not in the habit of noticing
cheap jewellery.

Now, that afternoon on the Rocks,
he got lost chasing butterflies, he says,

and I came straight back down
and returned here.

- Did anyone see you?
- They certainly would have heard.

One of the nuns. I don't know which.

I called out as I passed.

But we didn't speak.

I did hear Miss Dalrymple call
but I was deep in meditation.

I'd gone in search of Michael, to urge him to kneel
like the black-hearted sinner that he is

and confess his guilt before the Almighty.

Fortunately for him, he disappeared.

I challenged Mr West to a stiff climb...
and won.

Her legs are longer.
When I reached top you'd disappeared.

I went exploring.

Does it strike you as odd
that two out of your ten passengers are dead

- and it's only the second day of the tour?
- No, it's 12 passengers.

No, Mr West and Miss Marple don't count.

Oh? Why?

At Forrester Grange,
Raeburn accused me of killing her.

He guessed who I was
because Verity told him about me.

He was crazy and so is that Agnes,
and so is anyone who thinks that I could...

- We were so in love.
- Were you?

From that first moment, I believe.

And it became more,
and grew, until we both knew it.

But I could not stay.

I decided to try for Ireland...

I asked her to come with me.

She said yes and we arranged to meet
at Bonaventure Rocks.

She never arrived.

Someone must have seen me
and been suspicious.

But I swear, she never arrived.

I was, the rest of the war, a prisoner.

I asked my father, that champion
of justice, your friend,

to help - not me but to find Verity.

I am sorry, Michael, but you ask too much.

I am lucky not to be interned as an
enemy alien, so how can I possibly help?

I am afraid you must forget this girl.

I never would forgive him.

Never.

I cannot count the number of letters he wrote me
after the war, begging me.

I burnt them all.

Yesterday afternoon...
standing on those rocks again...

..I felt Verity was there.

One... razor...

silver...

one gentleman's comb...

black.

- Are you making any sense of all of this?
- I'm starting to.

One letter.

Verity to Raeburn. One letter.

- May I?
- Oh, yes, of course. Of course.

One hair... oh, two.

Two hairbrush-es.

I think I left my knitting.

Your earrings are pretty.

I saw some just like them in Gallard's window,
when Raymond took me to tea in Piccadilly.

- They were awfully expensive.
- Oh, I always buy my jewellery at Gallard's.

Though... all good things
come to an end.

And there are some things money
can't buy, Sydney says.

Well...

Good night.

Hoo-hoo-hoo!

Ooh!

- Sorry. Are you writing?
- What is it, Colin?

Ah, I telephoned Dick Rogers.

He was on the Missing Persons
Inquiry for Verity Hunt.

- And?
- Nothing.

They look all around
the Medhurst area,

even searched up at the convent in case she'd
come to some sort of harm.

You don't mean to say they suspected
dark and dreadful deeds at St Elspeth, do you?

No, no. He's very thorough, old Dick.

Turned the place upside down,
but no, no, she's vanished into thin air.

Mind you, Mother Superior has
a cunning streak, if you want my opinion.

under that heart of stone.

I wouldn't put it past her to steal away
from the convent in the dead of night

and dump a body somewhere
where it would never be found.

On a bicycle, Mr. West?
They didn't have a car.

- Your imagination!
- Yes, that's what a writer needs.

Of course. Of course. Still going well?

Yes... it's... it's all up here.

Just a matter of...
Letting it out.

Quite.

I don't supposed you've had the
chance to cast your eye over...

No, no, not yet.

- Ah, there you are.
- Yes, Derek.

Are you ready for me?

Yes, Derek.

Royal Navy, me. Swallowed half the
Atlantic when I was torpedoed in '42.

Next thing I'm at the Ministry of Food
writing pamphlets about powdered eggs.

- Powdered eggs!
- Powdered eggs!

Any ice?

- Somebody had to do it.
- Ah. Evening.

- Had a nose bleed.
- Nose bleed.

Ice, please.

Why didn't you tell me up on the Rocks?

You might have pushed him off
and killed him.

I didn't know you had it in you.

Nobody tries it on with my wife
and gets away with it.

Thanks, Syd.

I'll wear locket you gave me
until my dying day, I promise.

I can't tell you where I am, but I'm
in love with a German airman called Michael.

Raymond!

We toasted love but... no idea what it is, me.

- You're drunk.
- Well deducted.

Deduced.

Spot on.

Why can I write about love,
but I can't do it, hm?

You haven't written anything recently,
as far as I can tell.

That's so cruel, Aunt Jane.

It's not all the time tip-tapping-tap...

There's thinking.

Then leave yourself some room for thinking,

instead of cramming your life
with Avril and Sophia and Giovanni.

- Let me out!
- Ah!

Let me out!

Looking for this?

What on earth's happening?

Some of us need our ten hours!

Is it a party?

Ladies and gentlemen,
may I have your attention?

My name is Jason Rafiel.

If you are hearing this, it has become necessary,
through my earthly representative,

to encourage you
to continue this mystery tour.

Your next destination will, I hope,
reveal the true fate of poor Verity

and justice shall prevail.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

Why did you ask Miss Dalrymple
about Verity's locket?

Was there something special about it?

It was very special indeed to Verity.

What happened to your nose?

Caught on the door handle,
doing up my shoelace

What are they looking at?

Where are we going now?

Sit down! We don't want an accident.

- Why are we going here?
- St Elspeth's.

What are we doing here?
I don't like it.

Something's just scurried over my foot.

- Wipe my shoe. Wipe my shoe.
- I expect it was a mouse.

More like a rat.

Don't you know what's going on?
You are a policeman.

It doesn't necessarily follow, I'm afraid.

She doesn't look too happy, does she?

Martyrdom is
no laughing matter, Mr Lumley.

St Elspeth's heart was pierced
by the spear of Lord Ethelbert,

when she refused to forsake her faith
to become his mistress

Some of her bones lie here still
in the chapel below.

I fell in love here.

With Verity?

How do you know this?

There you are.

My head's exploding.

I had terrible dreams last night.

I saw her face...

..and then it vanished.

There was another woman calling me.

She was calling me.

Rowena's death was a dreadful thing.

What's dreadful is...

I can't feel what I think I should be feeling.

It's a terrible thing to say...

I wonder if I ever truly loved her at all.

I don't believe you!
What's wrong with it? It got us here.

Well, it's not getting us back.

So where's the nearest taxi rank,
Miss Daffodil 1951?

You sabotaged it!

We're staying the night
and that's all there is to it.

- It's not! It's not. I'm not staying here!
- Please, Mrs Lumley.

Nor me! Put my case back.

The man I saw on Bonaventure Rocks when
Mrs Waddy was killed, he wore these.

The book has your name on it, Mr Faber.

Why would I kill Mrs Waddy?
I have never seen those clothes before.

You can give your statement
at the police station.

When?

Tomorrow.

That was my first arrest
since leaving Uniform for CID.

Oh. Good. Yes.

What do you make of that?

- Fresh flowers?
- Well, those too.

The inscription, "Known Unto God."

That's for an unknown soldier, surely?

Then there's his name.

No, that was added later.

We only identified him some time after the burial,
when his widow came looking for him.

She'd scoured the hospitals
and we were her last hope.

She was too late...

but we'd kept his signet ring
and she recognised that.

Poor woman.

She must still visit him.

What?

My card, if you want to
sue for wrongful arrest.

- How do you know I'm innocent?
- I don't. Just hedging my bets.

Perhaps you know that Amanda put
those clothes in my bag?

Why would she?

Perhaps she can't help herself,
hurting the innocent.

Verity was terrified of her.

- If you don't want my help...
- Wait.

The waitress said Amanda stayed at
the Flying Horse around the time Verity disappeared.

It's you, Madam. You stayed here before.

- She was a mistake.
- Was she?

- Was she?
- Yes.

- Was she?
- No. Amanda was there. But she didn't do any...

Go!

Oh! Damn!

- Oh...
- Where do you really fit in, Georgina?

Jason Rafiel...

gramophone messages...
a coach that suddenly won't start?

I'm a driver and tour guide.

- And you follow orders?
- I try to be a model employee.

- And this is my first assignment.
- And before?

Intelligence Corps in the war.

Taught at a posh girls' school after.
Latin and netball.

- Long legs must have come in handy.
- So did the brain.

- Are you following in your aunt's footsteps?
- Sleuthing?

Staying single.

It is my artistic temperament.

Not with supper to cook.

My mattress is simply crawling
with things.

Then you'll just have to frighten them away,
Miss Dalrymple.

- Well, I didn't say a word.
- You'd better not have.

Mother Superior was telling me
about Ralph Collins.

Oh, the headstone?

It was all terribly sad.

He was more or less in a coma
from the day he arrived...

No papers, no memory,
and the most appalling injuries...

Mother Superior took it very hard
when we lost him.

I laid him out all by myself, to spare her...

..and broke the news in the morning.

We were all terribly on edge.

It was almost a week
since Verity had disappeared.

He's escaped! Michael's gone!

He's got to be here somewhere.

You two, go that way. I'm going down.

It's me. It's me!

Perhaps he's made a run for it.

Let's just try inside the chapel.

Is that him?

Shh!

No! Please! No!

You killed her.
You killed Verity. Confess it!

How could I? She's still alive.

After I'd had Verity declared dead
by the courts,

she wrote, threatening to return from the grave
unless I paid her 50 pounds a month.

But anyone could have read about
your legal action and written a letter.

I'm not that gullible.

I sent Derek to meet her, with a photograph
and a list of questions about her past.

- And it was her?
- Yes.

I only ask because when Mrs Lumley first
saw you at the coach, she put on dark glasses...

..as if you were afraid Mr Turnbull
might recognise you.

Such a fear could account
for transformation that evening

from the plain and simple look
that you said reminded Mr Lumley of Verity.

And reminded Raeburn too.

That's why he called you by her name!

It is possible, isn't it?

How could you be so utterly stupid?

It looked like her from the photo.

Didn't it? In your simple little frock and
a dark wig under the light of a backstreet lamp

because you were too nervous
to meet in daylight?

Of course you answered the questions
about Verity's background

because your husband coached you.

He's not that stupid.
He rumbled us on the rocks, didn't he?

- Are you admitting to blackmail?
- Ask him about blackmail.

He said if I came to his room
and did things, he'd keep quiet about us.

How's your nose?

- All that money!
- Ah! Ah!

Wait. Why were you in Medhurst
when Verity disappeared?

- Were you looking for her?
- Yes.

How did you know where she was?

She'd written to a skivvy chum
at Forrester Grange that she was here at the convent.

I wanted to offer her an allowance
if she kept quiet about her real father...

but... I never got the chance.

Then, my Verity, is she alive or is she dead?

I expect things will make sense in the morning.

They usually do.

Mother Superior wondered if you'd like this.

Cocoa?

How thoughtful of her.

Wasn't it?

Still, she can be...

Was Verity right to decide
to give up Michael for God?

We all have to love in our own ways.

Mm.

Sleep tight.

Whose soul are you praying for?

Is it mine?

Who are you?

I am Nemesis...

..and justice will roll down like waters...

And righteousness, the everlasting stream.

The poison in my cocoa is the same poison
that killed Mr Raeburn, isn't it?

Mother Agnes asked me
to give you that cocoa.

I asked her to but she didn't poison it.

It was a temptation, Clotilde,
and you succumbed.

When Mr Raeburn said
"Verity" at the Flying Horse...

Verity?

..It wasn't Margaret Lumley
he was looking at, it was you.

You were wearing a locket
that I saw at Forrester Grange

In the photograph placed there by Georgina.

A locket given Verity by her adored
Mr Raeburn

that she'd promised him she would wear
until her dying day.

When you saw him recognise it...
he had to die.

I don't think
the poison was in the champagne.

Cocoa?

- You were wearing something...
- Sh.

Sleep tight.

Was it like that?

Poor Mr Raeburn.

And poor Verity.

Your own special one.

You killed her.

There is no proof.

Isn't there?

You killed me.

I loved you.

But you were leaving me.

She said
St Elspeth had given her the strength...

But not to reject to Michael...

..to go with him.

I wished her good luck.

Verity.

Verity.

What did you do with her?

- Where is she?
- Dead and buried.

What did you do with her?

I put her in Michael's room.

And telephoned the police anonymously?

And told them a German was on the run
at Bonaventure Rocks?

Yes.

And then I prayed to St Elspeth...

..every day for a week...

And informed Mother Superior
that the unidentified patient,

nearly blind, in a coma, had died.

But in fact you wheeled him
to Michael's room where Verity lay, and then...

The police were coming to search.

I had to wrap her in bandages.

I swaddled her in a shroud.

And then buried her as Ralph Collins.

But I wore her locket always.

And now I understand.

I wasn't in hospital all those months, was I?

- You were here.
- In Michael's room.

I'm not Captain Martin Waddy
of the Tank Regiment.

I'm Flying Officer Ralph Collins.

I expected you to die...

.. but St Elspeth told me to atone
and nurse you back to life.

You were my secret...
but I didn't know what to do with you.

And then she granted me a miracle.

I read of a woman, clearly disturbed,

who wouldn't accept that her husband
was missing at Dunkirk, presumed dead.

I sat by your bed as you recovered
the memory I wanted for you.

And be with your wife Rowena.

Rowena.

I returned Captain Martin Waddy to his wife.

She thought it was a miracle.

She wanted to believe.

Martin?

Army Welfare, Mrs Waddy. He's home.

It's a miracle.

But when she recognised you,
you had to kill her.

Poor Rowena.

It was you
Raymond saw on Bonaventure Rocks,

after you'd pushed Rowena Waddy
to her death.

How do you know?

I found a clue...

..and the scarecrow I'd noticed on the day of
Mrs Waddy's murder had been moved...

..because you had used it in your deception.

While you were killing Mrs Waddy, dressed in
the clothes you later placed in Michael's case...

Miss Dalrymple saw you deep in meditation.

Of course, you couldn't answer her.

So it seemed you were nowhere near
the Rocks when Mrs Waddy died.

I can never forgive myself.

It's God who forgives.

Please...

..a moment's prayer.

There's a new world out there.

That's very definitely the last ever time
ever I pretend to be Verity.

- Yes, darling.
- Thank you.

How many grindingly hard years
for blackmail?

We're not pressing charges, Amanda.
Think of the papers.

Quite. Ghastly.

Warm my seat.

Ray! Bunny's fancy-dress thing Saturday.
I'm going as a nun.

Sorry, but I'll be tip-tip-tapping
on the new novel.

- Your jottings.
- And?

- You've really got something.
- Oh, good. Good.

I'm thinking of giving up the police.

Oh, but you have the makings
of an excellent detective.

All aboard!

Let justice roll down like waters,

and righteousness like an everlasting stream.