All language subtitles for Agatha_Christies_Poirot_S02E01_x265_720p_BluRay

Looks just like a patchwork quilt,
doesn't it?

No!

Well, it does to me.

It does to everybody else.

Not to Poirot.

I suppose you don't think that
looks like a mass of cotton wool?

No!

I don't think you've got
any imagination at all.

That is true, mon ami.
But you have enough for both of us.

It is extremely valuable to me.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning.

Ah, c'est magnifique!

Just the place for
a restful vacation.

The food will be inedible!

What do you think, Poirot?

Down to the beach
this afternoon or a round of golf?

The tennis court's pretty good,
I understand.

Waiter!

- Still no news of Captain Seton.
- Comment?

- The round-the-world flight.
- Ah.

They haven't given up hope yet,
though, apparently.

He may have made it
to one of the Pacific islands.

Cannibals.

I say!

Makes you proud to be an Englishman,
though.

- Oh, I'm sorry.
- Do not be sorry, Hastings.

It is not a tragedy for me that I was
born the wrong side of the Channel.

Oh! This is intolerable!

I'm going to find a waiter!

Ah, mon Dieu!

Garcon!

Waiter!

Ow!

Are you all right?

I say!

Do not perturb yourself.
The turned ankle, that is all.

I wish you'd let it be seen to.

In the pleasure of your company,
Mademoiselle, the pain, it passes.

Pardon. This is Captain Hastings.

Hastings, the house over there, on
the point, belongs to Mlle Buckley.

- Really?
- It's called "End House".

I love it
but it's going to rack and ruin.

Oh, that is sad.

It's big. Do you live there
all by yourself?

I'm away a lot. When I'm at home, a
rowdy crowd usually comes and goes.

I was imagining you were in a dark,
mysterious mansion

haunted by a family curse.

Then the ghost must be sent to
protect me.

I've had three escapes from certain
death in the last three days.

Escapes from death?

Well, just accidents, you know.

Curse these bees! I hate the way
they come right past your face.

Nick! Nick!

Here, George! Here I am!

Come on, girl,
Freddie's frantic for a drink.

Hello.

This is Commander Challenger.
He's in the Navy.

I have a great regard for
the Royal Navy.

Oh, well done. Well done.

George, don't get overexcited.
Let's find Freddie and Jim.

I hope the ankle will be all right.

Merci.

Nice girl.

Is Commander Challenger
what you call "the good chap", yes?

Oh, absolutely. Oh, good dive!

Has he "the tendresse" for her?

What do you think, Hastings?

My dear Poirot, how should I know?

That's Miss Buckley's hat, isn't it?

Yes. We're returning it to "End House".

Thus we shall have the opportunity
to see again the charming Mlle Nick.

I do believe you've fallen for her!

No, no, no. You are under a
misapprehension, mon ami.

The young lady is very charming
but I am more interested in her hat.

I don't see why
you'd be interested in her hat.

- There's a hole in it!
- Yes, indeed.

Did you do that?

Hastings, did you notice how Mlle
Nick flinched as a bee flew past?

A bee in the bonnet,
a hole in the hat?

A bee couldn't make
a hole like this.

But a bullet could, my friend.

A bullet like this.

Mlle Nick has three escapes from
death in as many days, now, a fourth?

These are not mere accidents,
mon ami.

You'd have to be a mad man

to try and shoot someone
in a hotel garden in broad daylight.

Ah!

Thank you.

G'day.

- Morning.
- Good day.

Quite impressive. Looks as if
it could do with some work.

I say!

Yes?

♪ Isle Of Capri ♪

It's not exactly courteous, Lazarus,
to ignore us like this.

Jim is far too good a dancer
to be a gentleman, aren't you?

Hope so, Freddie. An awful waste of
an expensive education, otherwise.

There are some men to see you, Miss.

Oh! Hello again.

Pardon, Mademoiselle. Commander.

We have come to return your hat.

I wondered what had happened to it.

This is for you, George.

♪ Red sails in the sunset ♪

♪ Way out on the sea... ♪

There is a matter of the greatest
urgency I must discuss with you.

Don't say you're selling something.

No! With that moustache and staying
at the Majestic, it can't be.

♪ ..all day I've been through ♪

♪ Red sails in the sunset ♪

♪ I'm trusting in you ♪

Now, what's all the mystery?

Mademoiselle...

It was not a bee that flew past
your face this morning.

It was this.

What is it?

It is a bullet.

Well, I'm damned!

♪ Love Is The Sweetest Thing ♪

Miss Buckley helped my friend when
he twisted his ankle this morning.

Ah, yes. So Nick said.

I am glad she didn't invent it all.

She's the most brazen liar that ever
existed. Oh, it's quite a gift.

She had a marvellous story the other
day about her car brakes failing.

All nonsense, Jim says.
Jim knows about cars.

Is that your Chevrolet Phantom
outside?

Yes. Pretty, isn't she?

I say, there's two watches
on the table exactly the same!

Oh, we've all got one of those.

Don't touch, old boy.

Keep good time, do they?

They keep the best time in the
world!

♪ Who's Been Polishing The Sun? ♪

- Oh, I can't dance to that!
- Of course you can, Freddie.

♪ They must have known
just how I like it ♪

♪ Cos everything's coming my way ♪

♪ Who's been teaching all the birds
how to sing a roundelay? ♪

♪ They must have known
just how I like it ♪

♪ Cos everything's coming my way ♪

The first accident was that picture.

The painter might have said that
when he'd finished it.

Anyway, it came down crash
in the middle of the night.

Luckily, I've been sleeping badly
and I'd got up to make some tea.

Otherwise
it might've bashed my head in.

And the other accidents?

The brakes on my car went as I was
going down the hill to St Looe

and the next day a boulder detached
itself from the cliff

at the end of the garden
while I was on the rocks underneath.

It's jolly nice of you and all that,
but why are you so interested?

You do not understand?
You are in grave danger.

- Oh, come off it!
- Oh, no, no. I tell it to you, I.

You do know who I am?

No. I don't.

Ah, I forget.
You are but a child, eh?

Alors, my friend Captain Hastings
will tell it to you.

Monsieur Poirot is a detective.

Oh.

Erm, a great detective.

My friend, is that all you can say?

Mais dis donc, say then
that I am "the detective unique".

Unsurpassed.
The greatest that ever lived.

There doesn't seem much point now.
You've told her yourself.

Ah, yes, but it is more agreeable
to preserve the modesty.

Seriously,
these were just accidents.

- You are as obstinate as the devil.
- Clever. That's where I got my name.

My grandfather was supposed
to have sold his soul to the devil.

I lived here with him, so they
called us Old Nick and Young Nick.

- My real name is Magdala.
- That's unusual.

Yes, it's a family name.

There's been a lot of Magdalas
in the family.

That's it.
That's where I was standing.

And the boulder
only just missed you?

Could someone have pushed it
from above?

No. I tell you,
it was just another accident.

Do you have any enemies,
Mademoiselle?

I'm afraid I don't. No. Sorry.

Is there anyone who would profit
by your death?

No. That's why it
seems such nonsense.

There's only the house, but
it's mortgaged and the roof leaks.

There's one usable bedroom.
My friends stay at the Majestic.

Who is your nearest relation?
My cousin, Charles Vyse.

He's a lawyer. He gives good advice.
Tries to restrain my extravagances.

He arranged the mortgage
and made me let the lodge.

We saw someone gardening.

Mr Croft. Australian.
Hearty, and that sort of thing.

Terribly kind, but Mrs Croft's
a cripple, poor dear.

Have you ever made a will?

Yes. About six months ago. The day
before my op for appendicitis.

And what were the terms?

I left "End House" to Charles.

I hadn't much else left, but
what there was I left to Freddie.

Tell me about your friends.

Freddie Rice is my greatest friend.

She left her husband a year or two
ago. He won't give her a divorce.

And Commander Challenger?
He wishes you to marry him?

He mentions it now and again,
after the second glass of port.

And you remain hardhearted?

What'd be the use of George and I
marrying? Neither of us has a bean.

Eh bien! Apart from Madame Rice,

is there any other friend
you can trust, Mademoiselle?

- There's Maggie, I suppose.
- Who is Maggie?

A distant cousin.
Lives in Yorkshire.

I have her to stay in the summer.
She's no fun, though.

The person ideal!
Telegraph her to come tomorrow.

Oh!
Ah-ah!

Jim Lazarus, Mrs Rice's friend, is
he to do with Lazarus Art Galleries?

That's the chap.
I was in there the other day.

The Lagonda overheated
just outside, so -

This morning somebody shot at
Mlle Buckley with a Mauser pistol.

A Mauser?

- Do you know anyone who has a Mauser?
- Yes. I have.

It was Dad's.
He brought it back from the war.

It's gone.

Mrs Rice says that Miss Buckley's
accident in her car was all my eye.

She says
Miss Buckley's a terrific liar.

Really? That is most interesting,
Hastings.

It is interesting for itself

and interesting
that Madame Rice said it.

But why should she say it,
even if it were true?

Ah, these little curious things.

I like to see them appear.
They point the way.

Ah, that's a baby!
There's a darling!

This is all very well, but what
we're trying to do is impossible.

We're trying to detect a murderer
before he's committed the crime.

Well said, Hastings.

I don't know where to start. I don't
like the look of her friends much.

Except Commander Challenger,
obviously a pukka sahib.

Hastings, you have
the most extraordinary effect on me.

- Really?
- Yes.

You have so strongly the flair
in the wrong direction

that I am almost tempted
to doubt the Commander.

Who's there?

It is I, Poirot.

The office isn't open.

I pushed the door downstairs.
It was not locked.

You are Monsieur Vyse?

Yes.

It is very good of you
to see me at the weekend.

Hercule Poirot.

Boirot?

Poirot!

(What kind of place is this?)

Tell me, Monsieur Vyse,

if I may ask...

and I have said nothing about this
to your cousin Mlle Buckley,

you understand, is there any chance
of "End House" being on the market?

Oh, no.

Miss Buckley is devoted to
the place.

Nothing would induce her
to sell "End House".

But I do not ask idly. Er...

I myself am in search of
just such a property.

It's out of the question. She's
fanatically devoted to the house.

Ah.

Try A Little Tenderness

Why should Vyse say Mlle Buckley had
a fanatical devotion to the house?

Did it seem like that to you,
Hastings?

- No.
- No.

Nor to me.

What did the garage say?

Whatever I tell you,
you'll believe the opposite.

Oh, come now, Hastings!

Oh, very well, then.

The garage said the brake drum valve
had definitely been loosened.

Truly?

Then why did Madame Rice say
that the car accident

was all an invention by
Mlle Buckley?

Permit?

Madame, I do not know
if your friend has told you,

but today her life
has been attempted.

What do you mean?

Mlle Buckley was shot at
in the gardens of this hotel.

Did Nick tell you that?

It is no fantasy of
Mademoiselle's imagination.

I happened to see it with
my own eyes. Here is the bullet.

Madame, several curious accidents

have occurred
during the last few days.

- Ah, but you arrived here only...?
- Er, yesterday.

- Before that, you were in London?
- No. With friends in Tavistock.

Ah! What were the names of your
friends with whom you were staying?

Is there any reason why
I should tell you that?

No, no. Mille pardons.
I was most maladroit.

I have friends in Tavistock.
You might have met them.

Their name is Buchanan.

No.

But go on about Nick.

Who shot at her? And why?

As yet, we do not know.

But I shall find out.
I am, you know, a detective.

Oh.

What do you want me to do?

Watch over your friend.

Excuse me.

It's open.

There must be somebody here.

Hello?

If they leave the house
open all the time,

I'm surprised
they haven't all been murdered.

Come out slowly
with your hands above your head.

Ah, Monsieur Croft.

Stay where y'are.

No, no, no, my friend.

I am Hercule Poirot.

Coo-ee! Coo-ee!

Who do you think this is, Mrs C?

The extra-special, world-celebrated
detective, Mr Hercule Poirot.

I brought him along
to have a chat with you.

Isn't this too exciting for words?

Enchante, Madame.

And Captain Hastings, his associate.

I've read about you, too, Captain.

Oh! Right.

They're friends of Miss Buckley.

Isn't that nice?
What a dear child she is.

Not very well liked
in this neighbourhood, I've heard,

but isn't that just the way
in these stuck-up English places?

Her beady-eyed cousin has
no more chance

of persuading her
to settle down here than fly.

Ah! So Mr Charles Vyse is
in love with our little friend?

He's silly about her but she won't -

Don't gossip, Milly.

I have my reasons
for being interested in that girl.

I wonder, Mr Poirot, if you'd care
to see some snapshots of Australia?

- Well, er...
- Good.

The inventor of the camera
has a lot to answer for.

Nice people. Typical Australians.

Hm...

I do not know.

That cry of "Coo-ee!"

The insistence on showing us
5,000 photographs?

Were they not playing the part
a little too thoroughly?

Ah! That's Mademoiselle Nick!

See you tonight, then, George.
Righty-ho.

Bonjour, Mademoiselle.

Hello, Monsieur Poirot,
Captain Hastings.

Is this your boat?
How would I afford that?

It's George's.

I'm rushing to meet Maggie,

the guardian you insisted I send for
from darkest Yorkshire.

Bon. I shall feel happier.

But you're wrong about her.
She's got no kind of brains.

Good works is all she's fit for.

That, and never seeing
the point of jokes.

But there is no joke here.

Cheer up, Monsieur Poirot.

Why don't you both come to dinner
tonight and watch the fireworks?

Tell me, Hastings,

if Commander Challenger has not got
a bean, as Mlle Nick has said,

how can he afford such a ship?

Oh, probably just er...

Well, maybe it's...

Maybe she meant...

I don't know.

Ellen!

Oh, it's only you!

Ah, Mademoiselle, I am desolated!

Oh, I'm sorry. It did sound rude.

Thank you.

Did you call, Miss?
It's all right. I answered it.

They haven't delivered my dress
to the back door?

No, Miss.

That's why I sounded rude.

I thought you were my dress being
delivered. They promised faithfully.

Ah, here's Maggie.

Maggie, here are the sleuths

that are protecting me
from the secret assassin.

This is my cousin, Maggie Buckley.

That's a marvellous shawl, Nick.

Yes. It'll be warm
when we're watching the fireworks.

I've never seen you
in a black dress.

I thought you hated black.

I do hate it. The cleaners didn't
deliver the one I wanted.

They shouldn't allow speedboats
in the harbour!

That's not a speedboat.
It's a seaplane.

I think these flying people
are absolutely marvellous.

- A pity about Michael Seton.
- He may still be all right.

Rather a mad family.

The uncle of his, Sir Matthew Seton,
he was barmy. Died a week ago.

That millionaire
who ran bird sanctuaries?

Yes. A gal chucked him once.
He took to gannets for consolation.

I don't see any reason to assume
Michael Seton's dead yet.

You knew him, didn't you? I forgot.

We met him last year at Le Touquet.
Wasn't he marvellous?

Don't ask me, darling.
He was your conquest, not mine.

- Have you done any flying, Captain?
- Well, actually -

There's the telephone.

Oh, don't wait for me.
I don't eat dessert.

All the extra guests will arrive
for the fireworks soon, anyway.

♪ I Won't Dance ♪

Too bad Mrs Croft can't be here.
It's bad luck on poor old Mrs C.

She never complains. You know, that
woman's got the sweetest nature.

Splendid view of the festivities,
eh?

Didn't you come last year?

I say! Look at that! What a display!

Beautiful.

I think I'll run inside
and get a coat.

Oh, let me.

You wouldn't know where to find it.

Oh, Maggie, get mine, too.
It's in my room.

She didn't hear.
I'll get it, Freddie.

I want my fur.
This cape isn't enough.

Thank you, darling.

It is monotonous,
do you not find, Hastings?

I like the different coloured ones.

I feel the dampness of the feet.

I shall watch the rest through a
window, from the warmth of the house.

I wouldn't mind
putting something on myself.

Poirot, look!

It's Miss Buckley!

Mon Dieu!

Sorry I've been so long, Maggie...

It's Maggie Buckley.
She's been shot.

How did your cousin come to wear
your cape tonight?

We came in to fetch our coats and...

I just flung off the cape
on the sofa there.

I went upstairs
and I was still in my room...

..when I heard Maggie call out
that she couldn't find her coat.

She said she'd take mine,
if I didn't want it,

and I said all right,
I'd be out in a minute.

And when I did...

..did come out...

Well, I, er, I won't ask
any more questions tonight.

I'm going to suggest, Miss Buckley,
that you don't stay here.

You've had a shock, you understand.

What you need is complete rest.

I know of an excellent nursing home.

No.

But we want you to feel safe,
mon enfant. Do you understand?

I understand, but you don't.

I'm not afraid any longer.

I've got nothing to live for now.

If someone wants to murder me,
they can.

You can't say that,
Miss Buckley, you mustn't.

Mademoiselle, I have failed you.

I, who promised you protection,
have not been able to protect,

but now I want to know
that you are in safe hands,

with people around you,
day and night.

What's going on?

It's not Nick, is it?
She's not dead?

No. No, mon ami, she is alive.

Nick!

My darling, I thought you were dead.

It's all right, George.
Don't be an idiot. I'm quite safe.

Then what's happened? The policeman
said Miss Buckley was dead.

The sooner you get to your bed,
the better, Miss Buckley.

I'm sorry, George.

Er...

It was Miss Maggie Buckley.

Oh, my God!

What a tragedy!

"The Chancellor's statement
has announced

hope has been abandoned for the
aeroplane pilot, Mr Michael Seton.

Fishermen have salvaged wreckage

believed to be parts of
the Albatross,

the seaplane built by Mr Seton

for his attempt
to fly round the world."

No-one, Dr Graham. No-one.

Not even Mademoiselle's dearest
friend is to be allowed in.

Oh, Monsieur Poirot!

Not even the King of England.

No-one.

Except me, Captain Hastings
and your good self.

Mademoiselle, I wish you good night.

Hastings.

How is she?

Safe.

Could the police be right, Poirot?
That this is the work of a lunatic?

No. The murderer is someone
in Mademoiselle's own circle.

Do you think he realised
he'd killed the wrong person?

I am quite sure he did not.

It must have been an unpleasant
surprise when he learned the truth.

Difficult not to give oneself away
in circumstances like that.

Answer me three questions, Hastings!

- What? What?
- Three questions.

One: why has Mlle Nick been sleeping
so badly of late?

Two: why does she own a black dress
when she never wears black?

Three: why did she say
"I have nothing to live for now"?

- Did she?
- She did. Answer the questions.

Well, as to the sleep,
she's been worried lately.

- About what?
- What?

Oh. I don't know.

The black dress?

The cleaners let her down.
Anyway, all women have one.

You have little appreciation
of the feminine temperament.

Well, anyway...

The last... It was a natural thing
to say after that shock.

No, mon ami, it was not
a natural thing to say.

To be horror-struck by her cousin's
death is natural. But the other?

No.

Never before has she displayed that
attitude. She has been defiant.

Hello? Yes?

Certainement. Yes.

Madame Rice. She wishes to see us.

I suppose there's no doubt that the
intended victim was really Nick?

I should say, Madame,
that there was no doubt at all.

You asked questions about Tavistock
the other day, Monsieur Poirot.

You'll find out,
so I might as well tell you now.

I was not in Tavistock.

No, Madame?

I motored down from London last week
with Mr Lazarus.

We stayed in a little place
called Shallacombe, together.

I see.

I'm still a married woman,
technically.

May I be impertinent, Madame?

Is there such a thing these days?

You care for Monsieur Lazarus?

He's rich.

Oh la la!

That is an ugly thing to say.

Better to say it myself
than to have you say it for me.

You are very intelligent, Madame.

You'll be giving me a diploma next!

I'm going to take some flowers
round to Nick.

Oh, that is very amiable of you.

And I thank you, Madame,
for your frankness.

Very nice. Very nice.

I'm at the Gulls.
A stone's throw from the gasworks.

Chief Inspector, it is so good to see
you. You do not stay here?

The Metropolitan Police lodging
allowance doesn't run to this.

It's a funny old business,
this "End House" malarkey, eh?

As you say, Chief Inspector.

You think these accidents
were all part of it?

Oh, there is no doubt.

You might be right. Be a help
if we could get hold of the gun.

Probably at the bottom of the sea,
if the murderer has any sense.

They mostly haven't.

I'd better have a word
with the dead girl's parents.

They've just got down
from Yorkshire.

Let me know if you have any ideas.

Of that you may be sure, Inspector.

It is all very well
for Madame Rice

to force the richness of
Monsieur Lazarus down our throats.

Yes. I must say that disgusted me.

Mon ami, always you have the right
reaction in the wrong place.

Madame Rice was telling us something.

"I have a friend who is very rich.
He can give me all I need."

"I do not need to murder
my dearest friend for a pittance."

I see.

Poirot, they won't let me see her.

Is this your work?
Have you seen Dr Graham?

Gave the usual guff. "As well as can
be expected. Passed a quiet night."

I know those tricks.
My uncle's in Harley Street.

I think you're at
the bottom of this, Poirot.

Listen, mon ami.

There is no fooling you.

If one guest is to be admitted,
others cannot be kept out.

You comprehend?

I see.

It's all or nothing,
as you might say.

We will say no more. Extreme prudence
is what is needed at the moment.

I can hold my tongue.

Mum's the word, eh?

I'll send her some flowers.
They like flowers, don't they?

May I offer you, Mademoiselle,
my very deepest sympathy.

You know?

Oh, well...

It doesn't matter who knows now.

Now that it's all over.

Now that I'll never see him again.

Courage, Mademoiselle.

I haven't any courage left.

I've used up every bit
in these last weeks.

Waiting and hoping.

Captain Hastings does not know
what we are talking about.

Michael Seton, the airman.

I was engaged to be married to him.

He's dead.

You heard the news last night?

On the wireless.

I made an excuse about
the telephone.

I wanted to hear the news alone,
in case...

I don't want to live.

I don't want to live.

I know. I know.

To all of us, there comes a time
when death seems preferable to life.

The grief, it passes.

You think I'll forget.

Marry someone else?

Never.

But you are fortunate, Mademoiselle.

You have been loved by a brave man.

- When did you get engaged?
- Just after Christmas.

But it had to be a secret,
because of Michael's uncle.

Sir Matthew Seton.

He thought women ruined
a man's life.

He was frightfully proud of Michael.

He financed
the building of the Albatross.

But if Michael had succeeded, he
would have been independent of him.

He would have been a...

I don't know.
A kind of a world hero.

His uncle would have come round
in the end, anyway.

Yes. Yes, I see.

I never told anyone,
not even Freddie.

Even when the uncle of Michael Seton
died a week ago?

It seemed boastful...

while the papers
were full of Michael's flight.

Michael would have hated that.

Mademoiselle, you once mentioned
you had made a will.

Mm.

Where is it, this will?

Oh. Knocking around somewhere.

I'm frightfully untidy, you know.

Papers and things are...

mostly in the writing table,
in the library.

Or maybe in the bedroom. Or maybe...

I'm sorry.

You permit me to
make a search for it, yes?

If you want to.

I was right.

The engagement has a bearing
on the crime?

A week ago, Sir Matthew Seton dies,
one of the wealthiest men in England.

He has a nephew, whom he idolises,

to whom, we assume,
he has left his fortune.

Last Tuesday, the nephew is missing.

On Wednesday,
the attacks on Mademoiselle begin.

Suppose he made his will
before his flight

and left all he had to his fiancee?

In this case, it is not
a paltry inheritance at stake!

It is an enormous fortune.

Ahh!