All language subtitles for Agatha.Christies.Poirot.s13.e04.The.Labours.of.Hercules.2013.Bluray.720p.DTS.5.1-HDCL_track5_eng

My lady.

Right, let's get this ruddy thing
over with, huh?

– Your invitation, Sir Anthony.
– What?

The Right Honourable
Lord Smythe, MP, and Lady Smythe.

Sir Peter and Lady Tavistock.

The Right Honourable Sir Anthony
Morgan, MP,

the Foreign Secretary, and Lady Celia
Morgan.

Mr Harold Waring, MP, Parliamentary
Under Secretary to Sir Anthony.

Monsieur Hercule Poirot.

His Honour, Judge Richard Stubbs, KC.

Monsieur.

Monsieur Waring.

"All the beginnings are delightful

The threshold is the place to pause"

Goethe.

Sir Anthony is a man most busy.

Oh, yes.

Always on the go.

Excuse me.

Merci.

I feel you do not embrace your role,
Chief Inspector.

Against the advice of Poirot, you
have arranged this whole operation.

Please to do it correctly!

My men are in position, Mr Poirot.

C'est bien.

Because there is the greatest of
danger.

The jewels, the paintings,
the very presence of Poirot himself.

This Marrascaud –

he shall most
surely come.

Look at this.

"Vanquishing the Hydra".

One of the Labours of Hercules –
Hugo van Druys.

Most of the Labours have been
pinched over the past six months.

Somebody must be collecting them.
For God's sake, shut up, man.

Wait outside.

I'm actually a police sergeant.

I'm actually His Majesty's Foreign
Secretary.

Wait outside.

Sir.

Waring, you should read this.

Wretched woman wants carnage.

You understand what's required?

I thought this business had been
addressed.

It may be necessary for you to leave
the country for a while.

I imagine it will, sir.

Lie doggo somewhere –
comfortable but remote.

I'll make sure you get a bit of
pocket money.

I don't want your money, sir.

Good man.

Mademoiselle Lucinda, you look
magnifique!

I'm terrified.

Do I look terrified?

No, of course not. Why should you be?

This is bait.

Me...

I'm bait.

Oui, certainement.

The thief Marrascaud – he will be
drawn to this place tonight.

But you are in no danger,
mademoiselle.

Poirot, he gives to you his word.

What happens if I want to powder my
nose?

Do you come with me?

If you wish.

Oh, no, no, no.

Of course not, mademoiselle, no.

There is a guard
who is dedicated for the purpose.

When powdering the nose, miss,
keep the door locked.

When you're finished, tap on the
door,

but don't open it until you hear the
response.

They say Marrascaud
kills for the sheer pleasure of it.

But they also say that Poirot is so
intelligent he is scarcely human.

But even though,
he does not listen to this "they".

Comfortable and remote!

Poirot, he will see you now.

Sergeant, where the hell are you?

Oh, my God!

Oh, no.

They say Marrascaud kills
for the sheer pleasure of it.

But you are in no danger,
mademoiselle.

Poirot, he gives to you his word.

...gives to you his word.

Poirot, you're as fit as a flea.

Whatever you think is wrong with you

is simply...

up here.

What else is there but...up here?

What you need, my dear fellow,

is another case.

Preferably one that puts your life
in danger.

That is your advice most considered?

It is. It's cost you ten guineas,

so I suggest you act on it.

It was my own fault, Doctor.

Mine alone.

Better not to be a detective at all
than to be a detective who has failed.

Look here, you've had a remarkable
career

at the expense of having a family.

Nothing wrong with that.
But that's what you've chosen.

For God's sake, at least stir your
stumps, get some fresh air.

If you won't walk, go for a drive.

You have driven me before?

Yes, sir.

The agency's had me out to
you a couple of times, sir.

The name's Williams, sir.

Monsieur Ted Williams? Ah, oui.

Alors, Monsieur Williams, it is of no
interest to me where we go.

You may drive wherever you please.

Monsieur Williams?

I'm terribly sorry, sir.

I just... I've just come over a
bit...

Please, please. Please to sit.

Bloody stupid idea this, isn't it?

I'm gonna get the sack now,

blubbing like a baby
in front of clients.

Pas du tout, monsieur.

Pas du tout.

It's just...

this is the last place
I ever saw her, isn't it?

Saw whom?

Nita.

She was a...maid to that ballerina,
Katrina Samoushenka.

Nita come over with her from Moscow.

And I had to drive them about the
West End.

Well, I drove Nita.

Samoushenka I never really saw,

she just sat in The Savoy sending
Nita out on errands.

We swanked about the place,
Nita and me.

And we'd come here.

We were so much in love, Mr Poirot.

And then one day, she says she's got
to go to Switzerland –

Samoushenka's having a crack-up,
she needs treatment.

I says, "Stay with me.

Be my wife, I love you, Nita."

And she's just crying.

That was the last time I ever saw her.

Right here.

Samoushenka took her off

to this ruddy place.

I keep... I keep thinking
that I'm all right.

And then I come back here.

I just don't want to go on living no
more, I can't bear it, sir.

Monsieur Williams?

Poirot, he will find your Nita.

And if she wishes, he will bring her back
to this very place, to this very bench.

Poirot, he gives to you his word.

I can't pay you, sir.

Non.

There is no charge, mon ami.

This is a thing that Poirot
must also do for himself.

I have a ticket, Inspector
Lementeuil.

Monsieur Poirot...

whatever are you doing in this
foolish place?

I am in pursuit of a lady's maid.

I wish I had time for a social life.

You are telling me the truth,
monsieur.

Poirot always tells the truth, why
should he not?

Because he has wandered into the
middle of an ICPC operation.

The killer...

Marrascaud –

yes.

Scotland Yard thought they had him
in London.

But he got away from them.

A girl was torn to pieces.

– Terrible.
– Oui.

He now has the complete
collection...

..of van Druys pictures and
countless jewels.

But he is coming here.

We have information that the Hotel
Olympos

is where he hides the goods.

If Marrascaud comes openly,

it will be as a guest.

The hotel staff were all accounted
for while he was busy en Angleterre.

Of course we would be honoured,
Monsieur Poirot,

should you wish to participate with
us in this affair.

When you get to the hotel
speak to Lieutenant Drouet.

He is undercover.

Poirot can recognise a policeman
when he sees one...

..Inspector Lementeuil.

Ladies and gentlemen, your carriage
is arrived.

Countess Rossakoff!

Allez, allez. Regardez.

Quickly, please.

Buongiorno, buongiorno...

Gustave, le monsieur la.

Buongiorno!

Merci.

Ladies and gentlemen, meine Herren
und Damen,

signore e signori, messieurs-dames.

Welcome, welcome to the Hotel
Olympos,

birthplace of the internationally
acclaimed Alpine Spa Therapy.

I am,

ich bin,

je suis Dr Krier.
Please to call me Francesco.

Out of season as we are, a little of the
facility is not quite open. But my staff...

Where is Robert? When we were here last
year, we were very well served by Robert.

Roberto is home with his family.
He will return to us in the summer.

We shall not be here. Pointless!

We have Gustave, Mrs Rice.
He will attend to your every desire.

Is my husband here, Francesco?

He is indeed, Mrs Clayton.

When you have refreshed yourselves
and inspected your rooms,

please may I offer you all a glass
of champagne on the terrace?

Yes, indeed. That is essential.

Monsieur Poirot.

"The threshold is the place to
pause".

Let us hope that this beginning proves
to be more delightful than the last.

Yes. God, yes.

That poor girl.

Monsieur Waring, it has been a long
journey.

Of course.

Excuse me.

– Come on, you silly cow!
– You've had enough!

Don't hurt me, I'm trying to help you.

Out of my sight!

Ah, Monsieur Poirot. Champagne?

Si charmant.

Merci.

C'est magnifique.

Yes, there is a small atmospheric change.
But we shall be quite comfortable here.

Bon.

Tell to me, do you count here among your
guests a Mademoiselle Samoushenka?

Alas, monsieur, it is not our policy

to disclose the identity of our most
celebrated guests.

Oui, d'accord. I understand, but
completely.

Nevertheless, she is here?

She is here. Did you ever see
La Samoushenka dance?

She

would hang in the air like a...

Breath of spring?

Impeccable.

Oui.

But this season, she has not graced
the stage.

No, monsieur, she has been here.
She keep to her room.

And no receive visitors.

Her physician, Dr Lutz, that gentleman,
no lo permette... he does not allow.

It is said she has...a broken heart...

un coeur brise.

But she has brought with her her maid?

She has brought no maid.

No?

Then who is that young lady?

That is Miss Alice Cunningham.

Is Monsieur polizei –

police officer?

No, no, mon ami. He is...Poirot.

Ladies, is everything quite well?

Are you Mr Harold Waring?

My incognito tumbles at the first
fence. Yes, I am.

May I speak candidly?

Well, I suspect you're about to.

You have come here from England
to escape the consequences of a scandal.

Yes.

Then I must entreat you not to engage
my daughter in private discourse.

My son-in-law
would take a dim view of it.

Very dim.

Another glass, monsieur?

Non, merci, quand meme.

Lieutenant Drouet.

Ma foi.

Are you in contact with Inspector
Lementeuil?

And what news of Marrascaud?

He is not here, not yet.

Oh, monsieur!

Pardon, monsieur.

Hercule!

Countess!

20 years.

Bouf! Gone like smoke through
keyhole.

I recognised you instantly.

What could I do but return?

You look well, Countess.

– Well?
– Oui.

Hercule, such insipidity.

At very least,
I want to look like a goddess.

One of the better ones.

Of course I look well.
It is my life of unrelenting virtue.

My life of crime is largely over.

S'il vous plait

Merci.

These days,

These days, I must at least pretend
to be sensible adult. After all...

I am a mother.

You're up.

I am vertical...
if that is what you mean.

Have you taken your medication?

Look at my eyes, Dr Lutz.

I have taken my medication.

Shall we talk?

I don't want to.

When you don't want to, Katrina,
then is the time to talk.

It's the way to make you better.

Countess.

I should like you to meet my daughter,
Alice Cunningham. And her ugly dog.

Mademoiselle.

Cunningham?

Ships in the night, forget him. I
have.

Alice is criminologist. With a mother
like me, she would have

to turn one way or the other. She studies
the modi operandi of great criminals..

Dorogoi, sit, sit, sit.

Only the great criminals,
mademoiselle?

What about the little ones?

My thesis examines the detectives who are
successful in exposing these miscreants.

She's studied you.

Le mot de dieu!

Do I repay the study?

He looks at you and he thinks,
"She could be my daughter."

Of course, you are not his daughter.

Monsieur Poirot and I would have had
to have held hands at the very least.

But he looks at you, dorogoi, and he
sees the life he might have had.

Yes, I am aware that you and my
mother are...acquainted.

She's told me you were incredibly
kind to her.

Oh, shush. I might have said it
once.

She speaks of little else.

But what is your case, monsieur,
that brings you here?

I am Poirot. I have two cases.

One of them must be Marrascaud.

The newspapers are full of him.

He got away from you in London.

If you are here it is because...
Marrascaud is expected too?

Maybe he's here already.

How thrilling. Which one of us is it?
Is it me?

I shall write down who I think it is
in the margin of this book.

So when Monsieur Poirot unmasks the
killer...

..we shall see if I'm right.

What's that?

It is merely the snow... moving.

Somewhere an avalanche.

Might I speak to you a moment?

I read in the newspaper
that you have an illegitimate child.

Yes, I read that too.

May I ask what happened to your face?

My husband has difficulty
controlling his temper.

Sometimes I displease him.

Well, sometimes I displease my loved
ones.

They don't hit me in the face when I
do it.

Who says I love him?

We all have...regrets, Mr Waring.

Regrets are the most forlorn
and useless emotions, Mrs Clayton.

One must insure against them.

Elsie.

So...

we shall amuse ourselves
with a round of Botticelli.

It is a parlour game.

I give you my letter,

you must establish my identity
by questioning me.

So, I choose...M.

You say,

"Did you paint the ceiling
of the Sistine Chapel?"

I say, "Nein, I am not
Michelangelo."

Yes, yes, we all know the game.

Did you write the Resurrection
Symphony?

I know nothing of music.

– Mahler.
– Good, good!

I fail. You have earned a direct
question.

Ladies and gentlemen,

meine Herren
und Damen, signore and signori,

messieurs-dames.

This man is such a bore!

A point of information.

I am advised that a small quantity of snow
has fallen in the tunnel of the funicular.

Workmen are attending to the
obstruction and it will soon be clear.

S'il vous plait, monsieur, how soon?

Oh, tout de suite, monsieur, very soon.

Within a couple of days for certain.

So we are trapped in this
preposterous place?

It is a large... small quantity of snow.

But not be despondent.
It will be gemutlich up here.

We have food, we have wine, we shall
be er...

What is the phrase?

Demented with boredom.

Cosy.

We shall be most cosy.

With a killer on the premises.

Now is the moment when we must be
very...

..very vigilant.

Just tell me.

All you have to do to make me go
away is just tell me you're all right.

I'm all right.

Drouet.

Do you have a gun?

No.

Do you want one?

No.

I am on edge.

This whole business
is putting me on edge,

waiting.

Sometimes, Lieutenant,
that is all one can do...wait.

The telephone is down and I have no
orders.

I don't like to be without orders.

Have you ever seen him?

Marrascaud?

No.

I saw him once.

He had a mask but I...

I saw his eyes.

He looked directly at me.

So that's why I am restless here
without orders, waiting for him to come.

Will you give me orders, monsieur?

Oui, Lieutenant Drouet.

Sleep.

You don't think Marrascaud
will climb the mountain tonight?

Non, mon ami.

For he is already here.

Shocking waste of paint.

Whole hotel is simply festooned
with this appalling tat.

It appears, madame,
that you are the connoisseuse, hein?

Your little brooch, for instance, it
is most fine.

But I observe that you do not wear it
today.

I always wear it.

Good heavens, the ruddy thing's
gone. Probably stolen.

I tell you, this place has gone to
pot.

I'm beginning to think Robert gave
in his cards.

– Spa.
– Si.

Danke. Monsieur will also avail
himself of our facilities?

Facilities?

The sauna, the steaming room...

No.

No, no, no.

Don't make me knock again!

Stop that! Door is unlocked.

I didn't call for room service.

That is well. For I have none to
offer.

I am Poirot.

You are waiting.
What are you waiting for?

To be invited to leave or to sit
down.

Merci, mademoiselle.

Would you be so kind
as to tell to me something?

What became of your maid?

I have never had a maid.

Nita.

She died.

The maid you never had... she died?

Nita died.

I have never had another maid after
Nita.

Who sent you?

What is this?

I don't know who this is.
I don't care. He's leaving.

Merci, mademoiselle.
You have been most helpful.

Don't touch my things.

Je m'excuse.

You write, mademoiselle?

I can barely dress myself.

How could I write?

Merci, mademoiselle.

Doctor.

What is the point of making rules?

Mr Clayton – does he take all
his meals in his room?

Is monsieur polizei – police
officer?

Signore Waring, you insult me.

No, no, no, no.
Look, I'm not a ruddy policeman.

No?

Of course not.

Signore Clayton, he takes his meals,
certainly.

Meals out of a bottle. Whisky,
whisky, whisky, all day long.

Thank you.

Monsieur Poirot!

Let me be absolutely clear. I cannot
permit you to interfere with my patient.

Dr Lutz.

Are you an admirer of Nietzsche?

All Austrians are not Nazis,
Monsieur Poirot.

You think I try to trap you?

Naturally, it is your metier.

Who is employing you and what do
you want from my patient?

In this case, I am engaged by

Monsieur Ted Williams.

And what I require from Mademoiselle
Samoushenka is the return of her maid.

I have no idea what you're talking
about.

Nita, the servant maid impeccable.

Monsieur Ted Williams the lover,
most ardent and full of chivalry.

You speak to me in archetypes.
All this is very Jung.

Nobody of intelligence credits Jung.

What is wrong with the lady in Room
16?

Ha, you French!
You make me scream with laughter.

I am glad...but also Belgian.

You cannot expect me to compromise
my client confidentiality!

Are you
mad?

No, Doctor, but neither is Katrina
Samoushenka.

Oh, for God's sake!

That's it, darling, you sing along.

Is it not the most hideous deformity
of a dog you ever beheld?

It is as if it had two heads.

Snap.

Another head, he could be Cerberus.

Don't you start!
As it is, his name's Binky.

Compliments of the house, monsieur.

Non, merci.

The manager loves you because you are
the only person here who does not complain.

Snap.

Naturally, he is not a doctor.
His name's not Krier, either.

It's Rosato. He used to run a
nightclub in Brindisi.

I saw him there, but he doesn't
remember me.

I was...beneath his notice at the
time.

Ah, yes, dorogoi.

Since we last met, my life has not
always been so agreeable.

Snap.

Ah, yes.

These are for you.

For me?

They're beautiful.

I have from time to time lost my
money and my dignity, Hercule.

I never lost my taste.

But...

No, I did not steal them. My father
wore them when we fled Petersburg.

Merci beaucoup.

The Labours of Hercules.

That is how you unconsciously
conceive your career.

You are the modern incarnation of
Hercules.

How resourceful of me.

Hm, Dr Lutz should name a condition
after you.

The Hercules Complex – the
compulsion

to conquer all obstacles, however
forbidding.

It is why you are driven to chase
Marrascaud.

You simply have to.

The man is on the rampage, all over
Europe. He is the master criminal.

Who else could possibly defeat him?

"Hercule".

There is no one else.

Snap.

You give me that bottle! Give it to me
now! By God, I'm going to...

Stop it, you're scaring me!

You do that again,
you know what's coming!

Clayton!
You cowardly swine, step outside!

Please don't... Please don't hurt me.

Elsie.

Please don't... Please don't hurt me!

Go!

My darling, go!

Go!

God!

Mrs Rice.

What has happened?
Does Clayton's injury need attention?

Tell me what to do. I can do it.

My daughter's husband is dead.

She has killed him, you see.

I should go...

No, Mr Waring, please stay here.

We shall not have you implicated.

But...

Now, do sit down.

There, there. There, there.

Tell me what happened, please.

I carried the body to the bathroom.

I stood on the closed lid of the lavatory,
fed the body through the little window.

It went down the mountain.

So Clayton's down the mountain.

I think I was observed. The staff quarters
look out on us. I saw a face.

Right.

Let me...

Let me think a minute.

This is not England. The solution
to this is probably a bribe.

One bribe to the manager.

Enough for him to silence whichever
member of staff

observed you, and, if necessary,
the police.

We have no money for a bribe.

Leave it to me.

Mickey Mouse.

Excusez-moi?

M, in Botticelli. I was Mickey Mouse.

I am now ready for another game.

For you, I am D.

Monsieur, I have no appetite...

I'll give you a clue – two clues.

I am alive and I am not fictitional.

Vraiment, monsieur, I insist
that you excuse me from this game.

Ah...buongiorno, Signore Waring.
Good morning.

– Francesco?
– Si.

Can I speak frankly?

I have a problem.

Is it a big problem, Signore Waring?

Pretty big.

How big is pretty big, signore?

Nothing, I'm sure
we cannot help you with.

You may be assured of my most
discreet professional services.

That would be nice.

Binks, tell the truth.

If you were the greatest criminal
brain in the known universe...

..and you had just torn the internal
organs

out of a beautiful young girl...

where would you go to catch your
breath?

You wouldn't really come to a dump
like this, would you?

Come in.

Signore Waring, whatever this is, I
am not sure our arrangement covers it.

My daughter! Where is Alice?

Mother!
Oh, bozhe moy!

My child!

I'm not hurt, I'm not hurt!

If you please, mademoiselle.

Tell to me what you can.

Yes, erm...it was a man alone.
He had a mask.

Did he touch you? Was it Marrascaud?

If you please, Countess.

Did he speak?
Can you be sure it was a man?

It was pretty clear he was a man!

And what he wanted. But he didn't get it.

He had good shoes.

Hand-made.

So you see...

– Oui.
– What?

Countess, the man who attacked your
daughter, he is not a member of staff.

Non. He is a guest.

Come.

Countess...

Monsieur. I came to see if I could be of
assistance to Miss Cunningham.

How kind, Dr Lutz. What manner of
assistance?

The procedures of psychological
recovery are my speciality.

Shush, Binky.

We've established you're a
completely useless guard dog.

Erm...thank you,
Dr Lutz, I shall bear you in mind.

Wrong shoes.

Because he changed them.

It was him.

It was not him, Mother. God,
you'd make such a useless detective!

Monsieur Poirot, I have decided to
help you.

I'll meet you in the lounge in five
minutes.

Non...

Please, I need this for me.

Miss Cunningham. I do hope...

Yes, well, it was most unpleasant
but now I'm fine.

Monsieur Poirot here has
some questions to ask you.

Indeed.

Monsieur Waring,
if you please to tell Poirot

where you were when Mademoiselle
Cunningham was menaced.

Me? I was in my room.

So why do you blush to say this?
Was there another person with you?

I say! Don't be so offensive.
Don't mind me.

My bedroom's full of people
who aren't supposed to be there.

En effet, you can help Poirot,
monsieur.

If you please to advise Monsieur
Philip Clayton

now it is the time for him to emerge
from his room to account for himself.

No.

No, monsieur?

Clayton has left the hotel.

Mais ca, c'est incroyable! Monsieur Philip
Clayton, he does not grow the wings.

Well, he might.

You are very tired, monsieur.

Tired is the least of what I am,
Poirot.

I'm a killer.

I killed Philip bloody Clayton
and stuffed his body out the window.

That is most interesting.

How did you kill him, monsieur?

With a dirty great paperweight.

Back of the head.

Bang.

Bang. And, of course, you killed Monsieur
Philip Clayton because he beats his wife?

The wife with whom you are in love...

and was in your bedroom when Mademoiselle
Cunningham she was being attacked.

Yes.
And her mother, she was with us too.

Oh, naturellement. Madame Rice was
almost constantly with you.

Oh, except, when you were engaged
in the murder of Monsieur Philip Clayton.

She arrived a short while afterwards
looking a little er... echevelee?

Ah, perhaps we should continue this
inside, mon cher ami.

It cannot be possible.
Neither of them was in Copenhagen.

If anything goes wrong –

anything at all...

..I shall blame you.

If you please, monsieur.

Oui bien, monsieur. Listen to Poirot.

You recall that night in London?

When I observed the behaviour of Sir
Anthony Morgan towards his wife?

Et bien, it gave to Poirot the
measure of this man.

And I believe that it was he who fathered
the child with a prostitute, not you.

You took the blame in order to
preserve the integrity of your Ministry,

because you are a man most
honourable.

And now you take the blame
for the murder of Philip Clayton.

But Poirot he knows that this cannot
be true.

Because there is no Philip Clayton –
there never was such a man.

You know, Poirot, he racked his
brains.

And he remembered the case in
Copenhagen

where there was a good man
at a very low ebb in his life.

Like you he was relieved of all his
money by two sisters.

Madame Rice and Madame Clayton, mon
vieux, are not mother and daughter.

But I saw Elsie smash the man
over...

Non! The man who was struck
was not a man at all.

But her eldest sibling in disguise.

And then, of course, they send you
away while they, huh,

dispose of the body.

But malheureusement, they were
observed and then they came to you

and you offer to make the bribe.

But I gave them nothing. I gave it
all to that Francesco chap.

Francesco.
Have you ever met a man more corrupt?

He is most surely their accomplice.

How do you know Mrs Rice
was impersonating Clayton?

Mademoiselle, your coat it is open.
Please to do it up, huh?

Vous voyez, monsieur.

The ladies, they draw the right over
the left

and the gentlemen they draw the left
over the right.

And when I observed this, huh, Philip
Clayton...

in the corridor do up his dressing
gown...

Right over left.

C'est ca.

Alors, monsieur, I believe that you
have suffered enough.

I leave you to recover your position,
mon brave.

Yes.

Those women should hang.

Croyez-vous, mademoiselle?

You are very harsh.

What are you thinking?

No, I am thinking that Cerberus
has much to tell us about Marrascaud.

If you ask us to guess who you are
I shall scream.

Monsieur Poirot.

My card.

I am...an insurance investigator.

I offer you my services.

It was him.

Can you tell me where you were when
Mademoiselle Cunningham she was attacked?

Certainly.

My complete itinerary for the day.
All verifiable by witnesses.

Excluding the criminals Waring, Francesco

and the women calling themselves
Rice and Clayton, of course.

Merci.

I shall await your call, monsieur.

Definitely him.

Don't look.

There, quickly!

Oh...so she is here.

Katrina. This is not appropriate.

Who pays for your dinner, Doctor Lutz?

That is not a legitimate basis for
argument.

Well, I disagree. Dine with me if
you wish.

Otherwise, leave me alone.

We talk about this later.

Mademoiselle?

A bottle of wine and erm..food

of some description.

Oui. D'accord.

Mademoiselle, there is one thing that
you must know.

It is a thing that was told to Poirot,

but he did not believe it of himself,
but it is true.

And it is true of you.

You are not ill, mademoiselle, non.

You are not ill.

The Countess Rossakoff is a
criminal, monsieur.

And you have done nothing
to promote her arrest.

You could do the same for us.

Excuse me.

Otherwise you drive us to extremes.

Do not press me, ladies.
Poirot, he will not be pressed.

Nom d'un chien!

Stay where you are.

Schwartz?

Drouet...

with a D.

Of course you are.

I was watching your door.

My God... That's quite a drop.

Sans blague. He will be injured.

He already is. I think my shot went
through his stomach. Will you excuse me?

Oui.

Oui bien, Poirot. The little grey cells...
at last they begin to sing.

He cannot escape.

You want me to shoot him?

No, Lieutenant Drouet.
Poirot, he does not wish that.

Viens.

Gustave!

Gustave!

you are wounded.

And if you remain out here
you will most surely die.

No! I said no!

That is enough! Come back in!
We have so much to discuss, you and I.

Mon ami.

What is your name?

Marrascaud.

No, Gustave. No.

He was not Marrascaud.

Why should a man go to his death
claiming to be someone else?

That is the mystery that is so
terrible.

If you are in the mood for horrors...
there is something else you should see.

Careful.

Merci.

There.

Oh, non, non, non.

At least the cold prevents him from
stinking.

Oh, dear.

– Do you know who it is?
– Oui. It is the servant Robert.

I found him this afternoon.
Either suicide, or somebody...

Non. This is not suicide, mon ami.
Look at the hands.

No, these hands they do not speak of
a waiter who decided to hang himself.

This man was fighting for his life.
And was overpowered.

– So this is the man Gustave replaced?
– Oui.

Gustave must have known about the
undercover operation to take Marrascaud.

And he just pretended to be me.

Though how he knew my name...
I have nothing to identify me. What?

Poirot, you are such a clumsy fool.

You handed to him the name on a plate.

Another glass, monsieur?

Non, merci, quand meme.

Lieutenant Drouet?

It makes no difference now.

So...

what do we do?

Gustave wanted us to believe that it
was Marrascaud falling to his death.

Then that, for the moment,
is what we shall believe.

Hercule! What happened? Are you
dead?

We heard another shot. Tell us.

Francesco. Please tell the staff to
keep to their quarters.

Their services will not be required.

Countess, this gentleman
is Lieutenant Drouet of the ICPC.

Are you sure? He is so many people.

And as for Marrascaud...he is dead.

Good heavens.

The man calling himself Gustave. It
was him.

I knew it. Those terrible shoes.

The waiter with the drip at the end
of his nose?

Oui.

I must confess to being a little
disappointed.

Monsieur Waring?

Mrs Rice and Mrs Clayton.
They've left the hotel.

– What?
– Please do come and look.

Excusez-moi.

What? Tell me. Is it likely they'll
survive?

Two women, unfit, without protective
clothing, without skis.

For ladies whose livelihood depends
on risks that are calculated.

I must pursue them.

Monsieur Waring.
Listen to Poirot, huh?

The opportunity to make yourself feel
better by doing something heroic

may yet present itself,
but this is not it. Compris?

Lieutenant Drouet, what special
apparatus have you brought with you?

A gun. A shortwave wireless set...

Excellent. Ca c'est la bonne formule.

No, but up here it doesn't work.
It has never worked.

Poirot, he is the master of
technology.

Please to bring this apparatus to the
salon.

And, Monsieur Waring, please to
invite also the other guests.

Poirot shall make the wireless to
live again.

Lieutenant, will you please to make
everyone stand over there.

Ladies and gentlemen, step back,
please.

Monsieur. Monsieur.

I trust the polizei will keep a sense
of proportion about my involvement.

Hello? Yes, I can hear you.

C'est Poirot ici.

Oui, Drouet is here and he is well.

Lementeuil, tell to me what you can
before the signal it fails.

Oui. D'accord. No, I understand.

Enfin, bref... Poirot, he has
requirements...

Hello?

Lementeuil?

It is dead.

Well? What is understood?

The tunnel...it has been cleared.

And at dawn – in one hour from now –
the funicular, it will operate again.

And what are your "requirements",
monsieur?

Time, mademoiselle. Time is all that
is required by Poirot.

Why do you insist on referring
to yourself in the third person?

It is intensely irritating.

Because, Doctor Lutz, it helps Poirot

achieve a healthy distance from his
genius.

Mademoiselle Cunningham, your
disappointment it can be set aside.

The man calling himself Gustave,
he was not Marrascaud.

You don't say.

Non. He was the accomplice most
loyal,

who went to his death willingly... to
conceal the identity of his master.

Oh, I feel sick.

So who is this Marrascaud?

Does he exist? Or is he a collective
neurosis?

Mademoiselle...
Marrascaud he exists.

He is here now.

A little patience, mes amis.
Then Poirot...he will explain.

Monsieur, there are things I wish you
to do.

But first, do you have here
the passports for each of the guests?

In the safe, monsieur.

Bon. Place
them in the room of Poirot.

Et maintenant, ecoutez bien.

While Mademoiselle Samoushenka
is here occupied

go to her room and take whatever it
is you find from underneath her pillow.

Also the writing case which is on the
little table beside her bed.

Place these items in the dining room,
into a large laundry basket for Poirot.

Also, that terrible picture that is
in my room.

And some terebenthine.

And, monsieur, in the matter of
people being arrested...

And a rag.

A rag.

Assemble also the guests in the
dining room in...

20 minutes.

I have an appointment.

Merci, monsieur. Merci.

What are you doing? Have you brought us
here to instruct us how to clean painting?

That amount of spirit, monsieur,
you might wipe off an Alp.

Told you.

One could consider it an
improvement.

Wait a minute.

What's that?

It is a man.

Well, I'm a ruddy Chinaman.

Spoken like a true officer
in His Majesty's Foreign Office.

It's the Le Mesuriers' van Druys.

Precisément. Vanquishing the Hydra.

One of a series of which paintings,
monsieur?

The Labours of Hercules.

This is so.

And the rest of the Labours? They are
all here.

All around this building they sit,
waiting. Hidden, but in the plain sight.

Waiting for what?

For the fence of Marrascaud to find a
purchaser for the collection.

Francesco, from where did you
purchase these pictures?

A man...down the mountain.

I get them very cheap.

Indeed, because for Marrascaud
it is a kind of rental.

Ah, but there are other treasures
here, in bond.

That is mine.

Is it, mademoiselle?

Je suis desole.

I return it to you at
once.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of
candour,

which is mandatory in these
circumstances,

I must insist that you show to Poirot
its contents.

Don't be ridiculous.

The Lieutenant Drouet is a policeman.

Would you prefer him to show us
the contents of your writing case?

Bloody hellfire.

Monsieur.

That necklace was around that
poor girl's throat that night. Lucinda.

And the earrings that went with. God,
that's not still blood on them, is it?

Merci, monsieur.

Mademoiselle, are you surprised to
find these items in your writing case?

– No.
– Non.

Will you please explain to us all
how come they came to arrive there?

– No.
– No. I thought not.

It is of little consequence

for Poirot knows the story of these
stones.

I must protest.

But, of course, monsieur,
that is your raison d'etre.

Everything that Mademoiselle Samoushenka
does you must interrogate or disparage.

Because otherwise you...have no
function.

Another of your personal possessions that
has found its way into Poirot's basket.

And you will notice the agitation of
Dr Lutz.

He thought he had made you
to throw away this object.

But, non.
You hid it under your pillow.

And this item is the disguise you
once wore in London to become Nita.

And as Nita the maid, you were able to
fall in love with the hard-working man...

the driver Monsieur Ted Williams. Whom
the proud and haughty Katrina Samoushenka

could not permit herself to love.
This Nita, who has to be discarded

when her mistress must leave London.

And so Nita the maid has to die.

And Monsieur Ted Williams, must bear
the pain every day of his life.

Of a heart that is broken.

And Dr Lutz, the opportunist,
who has been retained to nurse you

through your unhappiness. To heal you
with the talking cure, with pills.

With the constant reinforcement that you
are mentally unstable and cannot be trusted

to exist alone. Because this keeps him in
employment. But it is a cover.

But that is the way you behave.
How can one trust either of you?

I told you he was forceful.

And you, Countess. Never quite able
to wean yourself from the life of crime?

Pourrais-je, madame?

Oh, vous voyez, mademoiselle.

Your mother she is wearing the brooch
belonging to Madame Rice.

It was ugly on her and it is pretty
on me.

She won't be needing it to go down a
mountain.

She steals so rarely these days.

Peut-etre.
But maybe she enjoys the pleasure

of fencing jewellery
that has been taken by another?

For God's sake. You know that is not
true. You know that...

My turn.

Mademoiselle Cunningham.
The student of criminology.

Your fascination with – oh – the
method.

Your eagerness always to know what it
is that Poirot he is thinking.

How deliciously pure it would be,
mademoiselle,

to conceal yourself under the wing of
the very detective who searches for you.

Yes. May I say I think that's very
interesting but a little woolly...

and...not quite out of the top
drawer, sleuth-wise.

Monsieur Waring. You are no stranger
to deceit.

Only a few hours ago you were telling me
what an honourable man I was.

Because it is your honour
that leads you to deceit.

Will you please fetch for me the ladies
Madame Clayton and Madame Rice.

They're halfway down the mountain.

No. They are not.

I think you'll find them hiding in
your bedroom.

– Now, look here...
– Just please to fetch them, monsieur.

Bon.

Et maintenant, Monsieur le
patron.

I have done everything you asked,
monsieur. Soyons gentils.

You ask Poirot to be gentle with you?

When the servant Robert went missing, you
made not the slightest attempt to find him.

And when Gustave appeared later,
do you put the two and two together?

of course you did, monsieur, but you
pretended not to hear the answer.

And then he gives you cash.

And tells to you that he wishes
to work for you as a waiter.

And why not?

Guests have asked for stranger things.
And, after all, cash...it is...cash.

Ah! Ladies.

If he were wearing a hat,
Poirot, he would sweep it off to you.

Your venality, it knows no bounds.
You take and you take and you take!

We returned the money.

From the goodness of humanity, you
take!

You ruin a man. Then make him feel
guilty for being ruined.

You make him pretend you have
escaped.

But you have not escaped Poirot, no.

No, justice it will surely be meted out
to you, for you are predatory and malign.

Alors, who else remains?

Seulement the Lieutenant Drouet, and
Poirot.

Mais non. There is you, monsieur.

Cerberus. Why did you not bark when
your mistress she was attacked, huh?

Is it because her assailant
was a man that you knew?

Or is it possible she was not
attacked at all?

And that this attack was a device most
cynical to throw Poirot off the scent?

Would you like me to describe the
intimate parts of my tormentor, monsieur?

They were on display.

Non. Non, non, non.

That is not necessary for Poirot.

Oh, you are clever.

But you are even more clever with the
men.

Gustave, for instance,
your...creature.

You give to him just enough attention
to make him fall utterly in love with you.

I saw his eyes. He looked directly at
me.

So passionately in love, that whenever
he thinks of you, his hands tremble.

Trapped and wounded,

what else could
he offer you but his life?

Dying with a lie upon his lips in the
belief

that it would protect you. You,
mademoiselle.

Who are entirely without compassion,
entirely without mercy.

You who said that the ladies should
hang.

And you yourself, mademoiselle,
who ordered Robert to be hanged.

Because it was...convenient.

I'm going to have to write this
down, this is fascinating.

I do not think you will need whatever
is in your handbag to listen to Poirot.

Do you know what it was that first
alerted my attention, mademoiselle?

The biting of your thumb.

She's studied you.

And Poirot, he remembered
where he had seen this before.

And he realised that you must have
seen it too.

Oh, yes, you saw it, mademoiselle.
And you stored it up

for the future use, to manipulate
the guilt and the shame of Poirot.

And what else had you observed,
mademoiselle?

Don't open it until you hear the
response.

All the information
that you could possibly require.

And Poirot...he felt so vigilant that
night.

Excuse me.

Ah, pardon

Poirot, he will see you now.

But, in fact, he was a man who was so
blind.

Alors, mesdames and messieurs,
let us imagine a little scene.

The scene where Mademoiselle Cunningham

goes to Mademoiselle Samoushenka
in tears and says:

"Oh, mademoiselle,
the man I love is so very poor.

And...the cruel and snobbish
Countess, my mother,

she forbids us to marry. She has taken
all my jewels, except these.

Please to hide them for me,
mademoiselle, for the sake of my love

that is secret and forbidden.
Everything depends...on you."

I condense for the dramatic purposes.
But the essence of it, it is correct, oui?

Yes.

And how did you know
this story would succeed?

Because it was told to you by your
regular fence and accomplice, Dr Lutz.

Whose passport I have here...

And yours, mademoiselle.

And if Poirot compares the two,
what does he discover?

He discovers that in the past six
months,

you have both visited exactly the same
countries, on exactly the same dates.

I am concerned
that there is in your handbag a gun.

Lieutenant, would you please see
if it also contains a book?

No gun. One book.

Would you please to read out loud the
name that is there written on page 81?

– Lutz.
– Lutz.

The contingency plan, mein Herr. To
betray you.

Although you had already been
betrayed to Poirot

by the greeting so familiar of the
little dog.

Shush, Binky.

But you know for all this,
Poirot was still not certain.

Until his simple ruse.

Alors, mesdames and messieurs, Poirot
pretended to repair the wireless.

He pretended to speak to the police.

He announced that the funicular
it would soon be open.

And you, mademoiselle...
you decided it was time to leave.

Is that...out of the top drawer..

..Marrascaud?

Well, this is interesting.

Shut up.

You didn't seriously think I'd come
to your little talk with a weapon

in my own bag, did you?
No, I put it in hers.

I beg you. This is not the behaviou
of a civilised woman.

What a bloody useless mother you are.

S'il vous plait. This is not the way.

It cannot end this way.

Mistake, Poirot.

Because for the sheer childish
pleasure...of proving you wrong.

Put down the gun.

It is not a gun! It's an objective
correlative!

Put down the objective correlative.

Countess?

I am unhurt.

You did not think
that she would shoot her own mother?

Does that count as a senselessly
heroic act, monsieur?

I hope it does, because I really don't
want to have to do that ever again.

I believe that it does, monsieur.

Take them away.

Is there anybody at the Hotel
Olympos who's not a criminal?

Do you feel redeemed, monsieur? Hm?

Does this atone for the death of
Lucinda?

Because that was a bit of a mess,
wasn't it?

I heard you say the words, Poirot,
promising to protect her.

You poor man's Hercules –

so vain, so...ineffably smug.

And...you failed.

Don't turn your back on me.

I shall find you.

I shall not hide.

I can't believe you are so cruel.

I am not the Law, Countess.

Hercule. Spare my daughter.

Spare her as years ago you spared me.

Please. Lyubov moya.

No, Countess.

Poirot, he is not your love.

He is...Poirot.

Then I shall accompany my daughter.

I bid you da svidaniya,

Hercule.

A love like ours could have burnt
down a city.

Such a waste.