All language subtitles for MrSWr6E03.The.Grand.Old.Lady.

- Kapitan! - Good heavens!

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

There's been a murder aboard the Queen Mary, sir.

- What? - Murder?

Dad, maybe I can help out.

I mean, how about last month?

I remember having to explain that

I was the detective with the gold shield, not you.

There will be a personal search of all passengers.

This is ridiculous!

Lady Abigail, you don't know what a great honor this is.

Well, aren't you the dear boy!

Sprechen sie deutsch, Mr. Crane?

What happened to the briefcase he was carrying?

Is Bishop all right?

We don't know. He never came up.

Oh, the weather's so beautiful.

It should be a wonderful day.

But it isn't.

It was in the paper this morning.

A wonderful person died a couple of days ago.

She was very dear to me,

even though I never actually met her.

The paper said that she was 101,

though she could have been a lot older.

Lady Austin was like that, an enigma shrouded in mystery,

very much like the books that she wrote.

Abigail Austin.

When it came to mysteries, she was very simply the best.

Her books will live on long after mine

are gone and forgotten.

You know, the obituary reminded me of something

that I'd forgotten.

Years ago, she was involved in a real-life mystery.

Oh, yes.

As you know, that's something that I'm familiar with.

But for Lady Abigail, I think it was,

well, a somewhat disconcerting situation.

It was two years after the war,

and she had sailed aboard the Queen Mary,

which was one night out of New York City,

when the trouble started.

Mr. Daniken. Good evening, sir.

Good Lord, man, what happened?

It is nothing.

I fell down one of those ladders, that is all.

The captain, where is he?

It's well past first sitting, sir.

He could be anywhere.

Look here, Mr. Daniken,

that's a nasty cut on your forehead.

Why don't we pop up to ship's hospital

and have a look, eh?

I want this message sent immediately, do you understand?

Yes, sir, but...

Sir!

My dear Lady Austin,

please accept a humble toast from a devoted disciple.

You're far too kind, Mr. Chancellor.

Nonsense. Your preeminence is without equal.

Your marvelous detective, Dexter Saint James,

the hero of 50 novels.

Fifty-five.

Translated into a dozen languages.

Seventeen, including Swahili.

Well, I, for one, cannot wait

until the next Abigail Austin adventure is published.

Thank you, but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait.

Well, the war and all.

It hardly seemed patriotic, writing such frivolities.

Ah, but the war is over.

And I hope you will consider my offer

to write for my program, The Chancellor Casebooks.

Thank you, but I know nothing about radio.

- Good evening. - Captain Oliver.

Lady Austin, Mr. Chancellor.

I hope you've both been treated well by my staff and crew.

- Oh... - Indeed we have.

When one is aboard this grand old lady,

one feels one has never left British soil.

Won't you join us for a brandy?

Thank you, no.

Kapitan!

Kapitan!

Good heavens.

Who is that man?

Not "who is he," Mr. Chancellor, who was he?

He's been stabbed to death.

Yeah, come in, come in.

Hi, Mr. Krumholtz.

- Oh, it's you. - I know you're busy.

This won't take more than five minutes of your time.

Wrong, kid, by four minutes forty-five seconds.

Magazine section's down the hall, left-hand side.

Sir, I know what you think,

I'm just a screwy guy who writes crossword puzzles.

Another time, McGinn.

I'm trying to get the late edition out.

Sir, if you could just give me a chance.

Kid, please, I know all about your IQ,

and you got a good head on your shoulders.

But don't you understand? You can't write!

You put the words together like you were stringing beads.

Now, look, we tried.

We tried last month, we tried six months ago...

six months ago, didn't I help solve

the case of the missing Studebaker salesman?

And last month, didn't I help figure out

who killed Mayor o'Dwyer's bodyguard?

Sure, sure, kid.

For a reporter, you make a great detective.

Look, if you want to be a cop like your old man,

go join the force.

I'm 4F, sir. I told you that.

If the army didn't want me, the police sure don't.

Kid, want to do me a favor?

Come on, go bother the world or the journal.

Mr. Krumholtz, sir,

you're wanted in Mr. Barnes' office right away, sir.

You tell Mr. Barnes--

There's been a murder aboard the Queen Mary, sir.

- What? - Murder?

They're holding her in quarantine

until they can get it all straightened out.

That comes straight from Detective Lieutenant McGinn.

My dad?

And no press is being allowed onboard.

What should I tell Mr. Barnes, sir?

Kid, you tell Mr. Barnes

that we have got the situation well in hand.

I'm sorry, Mr. Bishop, no one is allowed off.

Captain's orders.

Look, ensign, or whatever you call yourself...

Westin, sir. Second officer.

Westin, I have got to get to my office.

The material in this briefcase is extremely valuable.

I'm sorry, sir.

Rum business for all of us, you know.

Well, it was approximately 8:15 when Mr. Daniken appeared.

He looked a sight, Lieutenant.

Hair messed, clothes askew.

- I assumed that he-- - Lieutenant, excuse me.

There's a chap trying to get onboard.

Says he's your son.

Christy?

Oh, that's all I need.

Tell him... never mind.

Send him in.

I'll tell him myself.

All right, so Daniken was chased to the purser's office,

left to find the captain, got himself stabbed

on the third deck between 8:45 and 8:55.

Question: was someone following him?

Question: did he know who that someone was?

Chancellor, I know the questions.

What I'm looking for are the answers.

Dad!

Ah, McGinn-fils. My day is complete.

I hope you don't mind my coming aboard like this.

Mind? Of course I mind.

Aren't you supposed to be home

making up this Sunday's crossword puzzle or something?

Did it last night.

Dad, I got to speak to you for a moment.

This had better be good.

I got a job, Dad. A real job.

Well, that's what Mr. Krumholtz said.

Krumholtz?

That guy fires you out of force of habit.

But I got to come up with a story on this killing.

Son, wouldn't you like to be an attorney?

I'd gladly pay your way through law school.

Dad, maybe I can help out.

I mean, how about last month? Remember what the Mayor said?

Oh, yeah, I remember, Son.

I remember having to explain

that I was the detective with the gold shield, not you.

Oh, come on, Dad.

I got as much right to be here

as that pompous radio jerk Chancellor.

Wrong as usual, McGinn.

I was there when the victim died.

I am a material witness.

Now, if you wish, Lieutenant,

I'd be delighted to escort your son to the gangway.

He stays.

Well, I distinctly heard you say--

Is this distinct enough for you, Chancellor?

My son stays.

Okay, where was I?

Oh, yeah, the killing.

Victim was a man named Peter Daniken.

Wine merchant from Denmark. He was stabbed to death.

And you saw the stabbing, Mr. Chancellor?

Not the stabbing, no.

Merely the poor man's expiration.

I was seated in the pub,

enjoying a '29 Chateau d'Yquem with Lady Abigail Austin.

What?

I said I was--

The Lady Abigail Austin, here?

Sir, could you tell me what stateroom she's in?

Fourteen, young man.

But I believe she's up on A Deck.

Thanks.

Christy!

Do you realize what this means, Paul?

We will miss the connection to Baltimore.

I'm sure there are many trains, Papa.

Enjoy the sun now. You are looking much too pale.

I missed you at breakfast.

I wasn't hungry.

Is she here to meet you?

I don't know.

I didn't look for her on the dock.

- Look, El, I'm sorry. - No, don't be sorry, Dan.

This was my idea.

We'd said our goodbyes.

I should have left it there.

I couldn't.

I think I'll go below deck.

Goodbye, darling.

Excuse me. Lady Abigail Austin?

Yes?

Lady Abigail, you don't know what a great honor this is.

I mean, meeting you in person.

I've read all of your books,

some of them three or four times.

Well, aren't you the dear boy.

Would you like my autograph?

Uh, sure.

What is your name, young man?

Christy. Christy McGinn.

McGinn? Christopher McGinn?

Actually, I don't go by that.

The same Christopher McGinn

who devises those fiendishly clever puzzles

in the men's quarterly?

Well, yes.

And who only a few months ago

helped the New York Police

apprehend a missing car salesman

with only a broken cuff link for a clue?

Well, yes.

Oh, young man, the honor is all mine.

Oh, it will be such fun working together, won't it?

Working together?

Well, on this murder, of course.

We must solve it, you know, the two of us.

Well, actually, I was just sort of planning

to write about it.

Oh, nonsense!

If there's any writing to be done, I'll do it.

As you know, I was there when he died.

I was sitting in the pub with that Mr. Chancellor.

He's been trying to get me to write a few stories

for some radio program he's involved with.

Anyway, in pops Daniken. He sees the captain.

He staggers forward,

he gasps, "Kapitan! Kapitan!"

And then...

Kapitan? That's German.

I thought Daniken was supposed to be Danish.

Dear boy, two years after Hitler, they're all Danish,

all those dreadful Nazis.

Even if he was German, that doesn't make him a Nazi.

I know, but there was something else.

Daniken went to the purser's office last night,

just before he was stabbed.

He gave him a message to send ashore.

The purser was kind enough to tell me about it,

and I copied it down.

I have it here somewhere.

Ah-ha.

This is very significant, I think.

"To Ilona Daniken,

Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York.

Darling, arrive tomorrow at 10:00.

Feeling under the weather.

Sikorsky sends regards.

Remember, we met him in Vienna, September 1936.

"Love, Peter."

I don't get it.

Sikorsky. International chess player.

Andrei Sikorsky? I thought he was dead.

Never proved.

When Hitler marched into Poland in '39,

he was in the fight for Warsaw.

And when that battle ended, his body was never found.

Sikorsky's a common name in Europe.

Perhaps.

But even though our Mr. Daniken kept to himself,

he was observed playing chess on deck.

Now, you add to that

the reference to Vienna, to 1936,

well, there's just no question.

Here, you just see for yourself.

"International chess tournament,

Vienna, Austria, September 1936.

Sikorsky defeated Von Richter

with a move that has come to be known

"as the Sikorsky ploy."

Don't you see? Daniken was Sikorsky.

Or perhaps he was Von Richter.

Or perhaps he was someone else

being pursued by Sikorsky or Von Richter.

- Excuse me, Lady Austin. - Ah, Bellows.

Mr. McGinn, sir, your father would like to see you

in the forward lounge at once, sir.

It's quite urgent.

Lady Austin.

That is what I said, Captain.

No one leaves this ship

until they've been thoroughly searched.

I'm afraid I must protest.

I'm sorry, sir, I have my orders.

- Dad? - Ah, there you are, son.

I think we've found our motive.

Special Agent Lennihan, Treasury Department,

- My son, Christy. - Very nice to meet you.

Inspector, this is a sensitive matter.

Yeah, well, so is murder, Mr. Lennihan.

It seems that Mr. Daniken wasn't Danish after all

but German.

By the name of Von Richter, I believe.

He was named Kreitzman.

He was an ex-Gestapo officer from the Saar Valley district.

- Oh? - Yeah.

It seems here Kreitzman came aboard

carrying something very valuable.

Carrying what?

I'm not at liberty to say.

But I can tell you this much: it's worth millions.

Maybe even tens of millions.

And nobody gets off this ship until I find it.

Mr. Lennihan,

if Daniken, or Kreitzman, or whoever he was,

was carrying something valuable,

then we have a motive, and I want to know what it is.

I quite agree.

I'll vouch for my son.

As for me, Mr. Lennihan,

I am an honorary Constable with Scotland Yard,

and I have the badge to prove it.

All right.

But what I'm about to tell you goes no farther than this room.

Let's hear it.

As I said, Kreitzman was a higher-up in the Gestapo.

In January of 1945,

he was transferred from the Saar Valley to Berlin,

where he was put in charge

of a plan known as Operation Geltkrieg.

Geltkrieg? "Money war"?

Precisely.

An expert engraver had made plates of our five-dollar bill.

Perfect job, according to intelligence.

The plan was to print up millions of counterfeit fives.

Debasing the currency,

throwing the country into economic chaos.

Except the war ended.

The plates disappeared and were presumed lost.

Then, two months ago,

we learned that they were going to be smuggled into the States

by a ring of ex-Gestapo officers.

- Including Daniken. - And Daniken's wife.

Now, one of the plates was already in the country,

and we were sure that Daniken was bringing in the other.

And Scotland Yard followed him to London Airport,

where he had a reservation.

But he must have known that he was being followed,

because he slipped the tail.

Daniken boarded around 6:00,

an hour or so before sailing.

And your men didn't follow him aboard?

No, we had no idea where he was until a day later.

Sounds to me like somebody followed him onboard.

Captain, do you remember boarding

any other last-minute passengers?

Yes, I believe we did. I can check the manifest.

You see what we're up against.

You have a murder to solve, Inspector,

but I have a plate to find.

Now, as long as Daniken had it,

it was simply a matter of following him

until he led us to the others.

But now that plate could be in the possession

of any one of 1,100 passengers.

And if it gets off this ship,

it could have economic repercussions

at the highest level.

What are you doing in my cabin?

You were looking for what?

Evidence, Lieutenant. Evidence.

Evidence of what?

Peter Daniken came aboard this ship alone.

He talked to no one except Mr. Nicholas Crane.

I observed the two of them playing chess together

the first day out of port.

Yes.

Yes, and when the sun became too much for him,

we played in his stateroom.

But chess is hardly a criminal activity.

It is if your name happens to be Sikorsky or Von Richter.

Sprechen sie deutsch, Mr. Crane?

Or perhaps you are Polish.

Neither.

Captain, I hardly knew the man.

When was the last time you saw him?

Around eight. He said he was going for a walk.

Been cooped up in his cabin all day.

I guess he needed the exercise.

Captain, may I go, please?

Lieutenant?

Yeah. Yeah, you can go.

If we need you, we'll let you know.

You're making a terrible mistake, Lieutenant.

Daniken sent a message ashore,

a clue to the identity of his assailant.

Perhaps the two men argued over their chess match.

Mr. Chancellor, Daniken is a former Gestapo agent

named Otto Kreitzman, and the motive--

None of your business, Chancellor.

Now get out of here. Stop meddling.

Of course.

Otto Kreitzman, you said?

How interesting.

Terribly sorry, Inspector.

I shouldn't have opened up that way,

but that man's insufferable.

Tell me about it.

Sir, I have the manifest.

These are the passengers who boarded this ship

after Mr. Daniken booked passage.

There appear to be four of them. Hello.

What is it?

One of the four is the gentleman who just left,

Mr. Nicholas Crane.

Arthur Bishop, Stateroom Nine.

According to your passport, you've just come

from a three-week stay in Paris, Mr. Bishop.

That's right.

I'm a fashion designer for Majesty Fashions,

where I should be now.

Sorry, no one's permitted ashore.

Captain, let me tell you a little something

about the fashion business.

A day, even a few hours, can make the difference

between success and bankruptcy.

Now, I happen to have in my portfolio

some sketches for something called "The New Look".

New look? Whatever happened to the old one?

I have got to get ashore now.

You boarded the ship a half-hour

before she was to set sail.

So what?

Well, it's kind of funny, isn't it,

that if you were in such a hurry to get to New York,

why didn't you fly?

That's none of your business.

Perhaps you weren't in quite such a hurry.

And what is that supposed to mean?

That you know about the murder of Peter Daniken.

What has that got to do with me?

My son asked you a question. How come you didn't fly?

Despite evidence to the contrary,

I am not completely convinced

that the Wright brothers got it right.

Call me a skeptical coward.

We're listening.

From Paris, I took the channel boat to Dover.

I got to Southampton at 7:30,

just in time to make the connection.

Now may I go?

Yes, Mr. Bishop, you may go.

But until you're told otherwise,

you're still confined to the ship.

If this costs me my season, Captain,

you will hear from my attorneys.

I do adore American businessmen.

They are so genteel.

And then there were two.

Lieutenant Eleanor Cantrell, army nurse,

Paul Viscard,

who is accompanying his father to Baltimore.

- Captain Oliver. - Yes, Mr. Westin?

It's Mr. Viscard and his son, sir.

We've located them below,

having a bit of a row with Mr. Lennihan.

Well, if Mr. Viscard thinks he's leaving this ship,

he's got another guess coming.

- Son. - Right, Dad.

Lady Austin?

No, Christopher. You go along.

I think I'll see what I can find out from this army nurse.

The woman's approach, you know.

"Nicholas Crane, Eleanor Cantrell,

Paul Viscard, Arthur Bishop."

Now, are you sure these are the chief suspects?

Yes, sir.

It's because they boarded ship after Mr. Daniken.

Don't ask me why, sir.

All right.

If you hear anything else, you will be sure to let me know.

Right, sir.

Your behavior is inexcusable, monsieur.

We are being treated like common criminals.

I'm sorry, sir, but it's necessary.

You don't seem to have any luggage, Mr. Viscard.

No. I hadn't planned on making the voyage.

My father is traveling to Baltimore.

To visit my daughter,

who is married to one of your GI's.

My father seemed to be in some discomfort

when we boarded.

Nonsense.

So, at the last moment, I decided to accompany him.

Naturally, I had no clothes with me,

so I bought some things onboard.

- Excuse me, Mr. Viscard. - Yes?

I understand you were assigned to B-255 on the fourth deck.

That is correct.

Normally, I would travel first-class,

but, as you know, the ship was at capacity.

There was nothing left.

A minor inconvenience.

I'm afraid we're going to need a statement from you, sir.

Statement? About what?

Your whereabouts last evening.

Say, between 8:30 and 9:00.

I was in my cabin, having supper with my son.

That's right.

I'd like a full statement for our stenographer.

And if I agree, then will we be permitted to leave?

No, that may be some time yet.

There will be a personal search of all passengers,

deck by deck, in alphabetical order, Mr. Viscard.

- Oh, this is ridiculous! - Sorry.

Look, I want to warn you, sir.

I am not without influence.

Paul, take me to my cabin.

Find anything?

Nothing.

Good morning.

Morning.

Have you any idea how long it takes to walk around this deck?

My word, I must be getting old.

And these shoes, why, they're impossible.

I don't believe we've met.

Abigail Austin. How do you do?

Eleanor Cantrell.

Eleanor, such a lovely name. You're American.

Does it show that much?

It does, and it's delightful.

Ooh, but I am appalled with this dreadful delay.

Aren't you?

I'm in no hurry.

Really?

Why, I should imagine a young girl

would find a thousand delights

in such a wonderful city.

As a matter of fact, I probably won't even go ashore.

I'm booked for the return trip.

Oh, how strange.

Well, I'm on a week's furlough.

Furlough? Oh, you're with the military.

I'm a registered nurse, transplanted to the army.

I'm stationed at Lancaster.

Lovely city. My first husband died there.

Well, surely you're not traveling alone?

Well, yes.

Strange, I haven't seen you at dinner.

Well, I've been taking most of my meals in my cabin.

Why are you asking me all these questions?

Am I?

Oh, I didn't realize that.

I am so sorry. I...

Would you excuse me a minute?

Oh, don't rush off.

A singularly uninformative interrogation, Lady Austin.

I couldn't help but overhear.

Interesting that the young lady is traveling alone,

yet that's the third time

I've seen her with the army major.

A steward brought this to me in my cabin.

It's $600. Is this some sort of reward?

You know better than that. You can't afford this trip.

Don't make me feel cheaper than I am, Dan.

Hey, stop!

Man overboard! Man overboard!

Don't! Dan? Dan!

Dan!

How is he, Doc?

Pressure's a little high, pulse rate up.

You seem to be out of condition, Major.

After spending 18 months recuperating in a hospital,

you would be, too, Doctor.

Seems to me that makes your leap

into the water a little dumb.

Why did you go after Mr. Bishop, Major?

You're looking for that man's killer.

I saw Bishop being questioned in the dining room earlier,

and I thought he was making a run for it.

That's the only reason?

I'm a provost marshal, Lieutenant.

The uniform's a little different,

but I'm still a cop.

What happened to the briefcase he was carrying?

Never saw it.

Well, what happened?

- Is Bishop all right? - We don't know.

He never came up.

Which means he either swam away

without being seen.

Or they're still down there...

both Mr. Bishop and his briefcase.

I hope the major's all right. That was a very brave act.

Brave? I wonder.

What's that supposed to mean?

My dear Lady Abigail,

you saw as well as I did the transfer of the envelope

from Miss Cantrell to Major McGuire.

I just wonder what...

Excuse me, I was just wondering

about the condition of Major McGuire.

Oh, are you Mrs. McGuire?

No. I'm a nurse.

I thought I might be able to help out.

Well, it's very kind of you,

but I believe the major's doing fine.

Oh. Oh, that's good to hear.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Would you like to see him, Miss Cantrell?

Oh, no, that won't be necessary.

I'm sure he would like to see you.

But I don't even know the man.

Strange that you were speaking with him

only moments before he leaped over the side...

when you handed him that envelope.

Excuse me, Lady Abigail.

There's something I have to check on immediately.

Well, we're not gonna know a thing

until we come up with Mr. Bishop and his briefcase.

Do you think Bishop may have been carrying

the missing currency plate?

Thought crossed my mind.

Gentlemen, how is the major?

A little tired. He'll be up shortly.

Where's Chancellor?

He's off somewhere. Struck by a muse, I believe.

I ought to check with Lennihan. You want to come along?

No, Dad. I'm going to have another talk with Henri Viscard.

Right. See you later.

Christopher, did the major mention anything

about being in hospital?

Matter of fact, he did. Why?

Just as I thought.

And Eleanor Cantrell is an army nurse.

Yes?

Well, don't you see the connection, dear boy?

L'affaire d'amour.

Oh, sure. I got that, yeah.

So what do you think? Do we keep an eye on them?

Spy on a couple of lovebirds? Of course not.

But if there's a connection...

But me no buts.

Christopher, our quarry is to be found elsewhere.

Papa, don't worry. Everything will be fine.

Excuse me, Mr. Viscard.

Ah, Monsieur McGinn.

Any word from your father when we may go ashore?

No, I'm sorry.

Sir, I hate to intrude like this,

but there's something I have to ask you about.

Don't you think my father has been subjected

to enough questioning?

We had enough of these tactics from the Nazis.

Paul. Paul, please.

What is your question, Mr. McGinn?

Sir, according to the manifest,

you booked passage two days before the ship was to sail.

That's right, for myself.

As you know,

my son decided to accompany me at the last moment.

Yes, but you also said

that you didn't go first-class

because there were no staterooms.

Well, the trouble is, sir,

both Nicholas Crane and the victim

boarded the ship less than an hour before sailing,

and they had no problem booking staterooms.

You don't have to tell him anything, Papa.

Kreitzman's death was nothing to do with us.

Paul, please.

The young man has caught me in a lie.

A small one, but a lie nonetheless.

Papa, please.

I pretend to be a wealthy banker.

A lie.

I say I'm going to visit my daughter,

yet another lie.

The war was very cruel to me, young man.

I lost a son, murdered by the Nazis.

My other son learned to kill before he learned to love.

No, I am not going to visit my daughter.

I am going there to live,

because there is nothing else for me.

I'm sorry.

Does that satisfy you?

Yes, sir. Well, I mean, no, sir.

Sir, earlier today,

when you realized your person was going to be searched,

you scooted back into your cabin,

almost as if you were trying to hide something.

You're crazy.

No, no, no, no. Very astute.

Little escapes you, Mr. McGinn.

Papa, there's no need for that now.

Paul, there is no danger now.

My legs are useless, but not without pain.

And before I boarded the ship,

I brought along a supply of morphine,

which, of course, is contraband,

and I kept it hidden here.

And it was there earlier?

Yes. The small amount that was left.

I had a severe attack last night, after supper,

and sleep can be a blessed friend

to a body wracked with pain.

Christopher. Psst!

Excuse me.

You must come with me right now.

I was just--

Dear boy, don't just stand there.

I have discovered who killed Daniken.

Christopher, you remember the message

that Daniken sent ashore to his wife.

It was all about Sikorsky, Vienna, 1936.

Sure.

That led to my assumption that, possibly,

Daniken was Sikorsky,

which, of course, he was not.

He was that miserable, dreadful Gestapo.

- Shh. - Oh. Shh.

Then again, there's always the possibility

that Daniken's killer was Sikorsky or Von Richter.

But I don't think that's the meaning

of the message, either.

It just so happens that Mr. Crane recalls that match.

Oh, vividly.

Sikorsky apparently made an error

which permitted Von Richter

to pounce upon his king's bishop.

Actually, it was a brilliant move by Sikorsky,

who sacrificed his king's bishop

to draw Von Richter into his trap,

and it was mate in seven.

- What? - Mate in seven.

That's chess parlance, Mr. McGinn.

Von Richter was checkmated in seven moves.

Here, I can show you on the board.

Now, you see?

You see what it means, don't you?

I think I do.

Good heavens.

Excuse me, Mr. McGinn, you're wanted aft.

What is it?

I believe they have found Mr. Bishop, sir.

Excuse me.

Not a mark on him.

Looks like he drowned.

I'll wait for the autopsy.

And no sign of that briefcase?

None, sir.

But my divers are still looking.

Well, so much for Mr. Arthur Bishop.

Dad, I think Lady Abigail cracked the case.

She has? Well, who did it?

Do you think you could gather everybody

in the forward lounge?

Oh, now, look, Son, not that old chestnut.

Who do I look like, Charlie Chan?

Please, Dad, let her have the spotlight.

It's important.

Okay. I guess I owe you one from last month.

- Where's Chancellor? - Who cares?

Captain, Edwin Chancellor,

he's in Stateroom Seven, isn't he?

Quite so.

I'll get him. You go ahead.

Son, tell me it's true. Chancellor did it?

No such luck, Dad.

Gonna have to settle for somebody else.

It's not locked.

Yes?

When was that?

Thank you so much.

Mr. Chancellor, do you always leave your door unlocked?

Why not? I'm not carrying anything worth stealing.

Lady Austin and I think

we've come up with the identity of Mr. Daniken's killer.

Hmm.

As have I, McGinn.

My office has been in touch with Great Britain,

and I now know everything I need to know about our killer.

Really? So you found it?

Well, the solution was not difficult to find,

I assure you.

Come along. I want to present my evidence to the captain.

Yes, but shouldn't we...

Don't dilly-dally, McGinn.

The sooner we get this business over with,

the sooner we'll be off this ship.

Miss Abigail, if you have got something to tell us...

Patience, Mr. Lennihan.

Ah, there you are, Christopher.

Didn't want to start without you.

Or me, Lady Austin.

Lieutenant McGinn, happily, for all of us,

we'll soon be able to leave this ship.

I believe that I have discovered the identity

of Daniken's murderer.

You too?

Well, how stunning.

I mean, that all of us have been able to decipher

the meaning of Mr. Daniken's message.

But, Lady Austin, the message had nothing to do with it.

Really?

Oh, I think you're mistaken, Mr. Chancellor.

Am I? Consider the facts.

The time, a ten-minute span

between 8:45 and 8:55 last evening.

Peter Daniken, or, if you prefer,

an ex-Gestapo officer named Otto Kreitzman

rushes from the purser's office in fear for his life.

Somewhere on the third deck, he is stabbed.

He staggers into the pub, comes through the door,

and gasps the word "kapitan".

Captain Oliver was standing right there.

He was speaking to Captain Oliver.

But was he?

Why was he coming to see the captain?

For his protection?

He'd already been stabbed. It was too late for that.

No, I think he had a different use for the word "kapitan",

an entirely different meaning.

He was trying to tell us he had been stabbed

by a captain.

Not Captain Oliver,

Captain McGuire.

- You're crazy. - I think not.

Mr. Chancellor, it might have escaped you,

but Major McGuire is not a captain.

Not now.

But that was his rank two years ago in Berlin,

when he was part of an advance company

that took Gestapo headquarters,

where he first came across Otto Kreitzman.

I never saw that man before in my life.

Where were you last night at the time of the murder?

In my cabin, reading.

I've located a steward who is willing to swear

that he brought fresh linens

to your cabin at 20 minutes to 9:00,

and your cabin was empty.

Of course it was empty, you fool.

- Dan... - Quiet, Ellie.

I submit that Major McGuire recognized this man

and tried to apprehend him. They scuffled.

That would explain Daniken's disheveled appearance

in the purser's office.

You caught up with him again on the way to the pub

and you struggled again.

- No, it's not true. - Ellie, don't.

No, he couldn't have killed that man,

because he was with me last night, in my cabin,

and I'll swear to it.

Oh, really, Mr. Chancellor.

Why can't you see what is so perfectly obvious

to all the rest of us?

These two young people are in love.

I was his nurse at a hospital in Lancaster.

I knew he was married, but I didn't care.

When he got his orders to go home,

I couldn't just say goodbye,

so I boarded ship at the last moment.

Two years ago, an advance party into Berlin.

That would be late April or early May.

And Kreitzman was in Cologne during April and May.

Perhaps I have my chronology slightly wrong.

That's not all, Mr. Chancellor.

In German, a captain in the army is hauptmann,

not kapitan.

I hope you're satisfied, sir.

Accusing this young man, putting this poor girl

through this ordeal.

I think it's perfectly evident, from the clues,

that the real killer of Mr. Daniken

was Mr. Arthur Bishop.

Bishop, eh?

Yes, I thought so, the way he ran for it.

The pity is that he isn't alive

to face the verdict of his peers.

Oh, it was Mr. Bishop, all right.

Well, the radiogram to shore tells us that.

Isn't that right?

Christopher?

Hmm? Why don't you explain for everyone?

It was the reference to a chess match in 1936.

Sikorsky beat the reigning champion with a ploy

that involved the sacrifice of his king's bishop.

Remember?

Mr. Bishop was chief designer for Majesty Fashions.

Let's see.

Daniken was trying to tell his wife

that Bishop was after him for the plate.

Yeah, and it looks like he got it too.

That's why he tried to jump ship with his briefcase.

And when we dredge up that briefcase,

we have the plate.

Christy, what do you think?

Well, that certainly makes sense to me.

Congratulations, Lady Austin.

Thank you.

But you deserve most of the credit.

Oh, without you,

I doubt I would've even tried to puzzle this one out.

You've made an old lady feel young again.

Inspector, may I presume the rest of us

are free to go?

You may. And thank you all for your Patience.

Captain, you can begin to let the passengers disembark.

Thank you.

Dad, Mr. Lennihan,

could I see you both for just a minute?

Of course, I'll make the motives clear,

and give the suspects some color.

It's all about a murder that takes place

on a cruise ship.

Imagine that.

Dan? Dan!

What is it you want us to see, son?

- You'll see, Dad. - Unlocked, huh?

Chancellor told me he never locked it.

Now, that's important,

because it wasn't locked last night.

I don't get it.

That's just the point, Mr. Lennihan.

If I'm right...

I believe you do get it.

This is the baby.

But how did you know?

When Crane described the chess match,

it just hit me, the meaning of the message.

Daniken was being chased.

He had to hide the plate

so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands.

Well, he couldn't put it in his own stateroom,

so when he found Chancellor's door unlocked,

he hid the plate in here for safekeeping.

But how did you know it was hidden there?

Two things.

The chess match ended in seven moves,

or as Nicholas Crane put it in chess parlance,

"mate in seven".

Well, to me, that meant the mate to the other counterfeit plate

was here in Stateroom Seven.

Also, he said he was feeling under the weather.

Well, I just put two and two together.

Then all this business about king's bishop,

that was all wrong.

Why didn't you say something?

Maybe to keep from hurting someone's feelings.

That's right, Dad.

But if Bishop didn't kill that Gestapo agent, who did?

And don't tell me you don't know.

I know, all right.

But I could never prove it.

You won't have to.

Dead or not, I do not intend to let Mr. Bishop

take the blame for something I did.

Mr. Viscard, I ought to warn you--

To say nothing before I've consulted an attorney.

It doesn't matter.

Kreitzman was filth,

responsible for the murder of dozens of my countrymen,

including my own brother.

I was bringing my father aboard

when I spotted him on the upper deck.

I tried to locate him, but he was gone.

That's when I booked passage.

Because his name was different,

it took me most of the voyage to find him.

Monsieur Viscard has agreed

to return to England, Lieutenant.

British vessel, high seas and all,

I expect the Crown has jurisdiction.

No argument here.

I'm happy you see it that way.

Well, since Kreitzman has already been tried,

found guilty and condemned to death by the Allied court,

this could be an interesting and abbreviated proceeding.

Thanks.

My pleasure.

Lennihan.

All right, all right, let's hear it.

- Hear what, Dad? - "Hear what?"

Come on, you're fairly busting

to tell me how you knew Paul Viscard did it.

No, I'm not. Really.

Hey! Whoa!

If you don't mind, then, I'd like to know.

- You're sure? - Yeah.

You always hate it when I tell you.

Oh, come on, Son, that's crazy.

I don't hate it.

I'm a professional policeman. I'm curious.

Come on, let's hear it.

Okay.

Well, the old man said he'd been having supper

with Paul in his cabin.

But when he admitted to using morphine to ease his pain,

he also said he dropped off to sleep,

which meant that Paul's alibi wasn't an alibi at all.

And the other thing is, Paul called the victim

by his real name, Kreitzman,

when everyone else onboard knew him as Daniken.

That's it?

Well, I know it's not much.

Much? You call that police work?

Let me tell you what that was, Son.

Guesswork. A stab in the dark.

I'm gonna tell you about police work, Son.

- It's drudgery. - Mm-hmm.

- It's painstaking. - Mm-hmm.

Hey!

Lieutenant.

Major.

Well, you're looking much happier

than the last time we saw you.

A lot happier,

for a man whose marriage just fell apart on him.

Isn't it wonderful? His wife left him.

Oh, well, she ran off with a lumberjack.

My sister just brought me the news.

She didn't want to write.

She thought it might hit me too hard,

being in the hospital and all.

We're going back just long enough

for me to resign from service.

Oh, well, good luck to both of you.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

Thank you.

What's the matter, Dad?

Little attack of hay fever?

Son, you may claim to be Irish, but I have my doubts.

Serious doubts.

To the best of my knowledge,

the major and his nurse got married

and lived happily ever after.

But the real happy ending belonged to Abigail Austin.

She never realized

that her solution to the murder was wrong.

Even though he knew the truth,

young Christy McGinn never wrote the story.

He knew that it would break Lady Austin's spirit,

as well as her heart.

She went on to write another dozen books

before she finally retired

to her rose garden in Brighton.

To those of us who came afterwards,

she truly was a grand old lady.