BIRDS SQUAWKING Oh, Lord.

You know, sometimes I wonder whether bringing you into the world wasn't a waste of professional effort.

How many times have I told you it's all in the mind?

Sorry, doctor, I get worse every day.

Decide where you want the ball to go... ..imagine it there and then... ..hit it... ..like that.

DR THOMAS: All right for time?

I promised Dad I'll play for evensong.

Then I should be all right for another couple of holes anyway.

If we ever get this one finished.

Oh.

Of course if you have no imagination, I suppose it doesn't work.

I thought I had a shout.

I hope it didn't hit anyone.

Ah, the ball can't possibly have travelled that far, can it?

Not if the precedent is anything to go by.

BOBBY: Ah, here it is.

Good.

Good?

I mean, it didn't hit anyone.

And is unlikely to be hit by anyone.

Try getting it out of there.

Not that one, you fool.

This one.

If you can't manage with that, you better put the wretched thing out of its misery.

Pick it up and throw it.

GOLF CLUBS RATTLE Decide where you want the ball to go.

Oh!

Every time I'm close to the edge I do that.

Every single time.

Are you gonna try and get it back?

If I can see it anywhere.

Doctor, quickly!

Look.

Can we get down to him?

There's a path further along.

BIRDS CHIRPING He... he's still breathing, I think.

There's... nothing to be done.

His back is broken.

I'll go for help.

Isn't there anything we can do?

No, it's too late now.

His pulse rate is weakening fast.

He'll last about another 20 minutes, if that.

I'll stay.

There'll be no pain, no pain at all.

I'll be as quick as I can.

MAN GURGLING Why... ..didn't... ..they ask... ..Evans?

MAN CHOKING I say... ..anything the matter?

Man's dead!

Help is on its way!

I'll come down!

There's a path to your right!

I say, what a beastly thing to happen.

Grim.

Nothing I can do?

Well, actually there is, but not for him, for me.

You see, the thing is, I've got an appointment at six.

- You don't like to leave.

Well, I know the poor chap's dead and all that and there's nothing one can do, but all the same.

Don't you worry, old man.

You cut along to wherever it is.

I'll stay till they get here.

My name is Roger Bassington-ffrench, by the way.

Come down to see about a house.

Oh.

Bobby Jones.

Like the golfer.

Not a bit like a golfer.

BELL TOLLS It's five minutes past, vicar.

Well, let's give him five more minutes.

Robert's a wretched boy.

Punctuality may be the politeness of princes, but not apparently in my parish.

It being the feast of St James the Great, er, we shall now sing unaccompanied, I'm afraid, hymn number 557, for all thy sins, a noble song.

DOOR OPENS SOFTLY: What number?

HE MOUTHS ORGAN PLAYING REVEREND: If you cannot do a thing properly, my dear Bobby, it's far better not to do it at all.

Ah, thank you, Mrs Roberts, that smells quite delicious.

I know that most of your friends have no idea of time, but there is one who must never be kept waiting.

What we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.

Amen.

I'm sorry, Dad, but it really wasn't my fault.

I was keeping guard over a corpse.

You were what?

Keeping guard over a poor blighter who stepped off the cliff.

He must have gone straight on and over.

Was he killed outright?

No, unconscious.

He died just after Dr Thomas had gone for help.

Well, I felt I couldn't just push off and leave him, so when another fellow came along, I just passed the job of chief mourner on to him and legged it here as fast as I could.

Well, nothing, not even sudden death, shake your deplorable callousness.

Everything, however solemn, appears to be nothing but a joke to your generation.

It isn't like that really, Dad.

I hesitate to say this, Bobby, but it's eight months now since you were unfortunately invalided out of the Navy.

Seems to me you're losing your grip on things.

There isn't much to grip around here, Dad.

Exactly.

I think it's time you set about finding yourself a job.

Well, actually, I may be onto something.

I'm going up to London tomorrow to have a look.

Oh, it's the first I've heard of it.

Yes, well, I thought I'd better find out more about it first.

A good prospect?

I'm thinking of going in with Badger Beadon.

My dear Bobby, you can't be serious.

His great-aunt died... ..and left him £300.

He's taken a lease on a garage, second-hand cars, that sort of thing.

REVEREND: Young Beadon is completely irresponsible.

He's never done a hand's turn in his life.

BOBBY: Well, that's not fair, Dad.

It's just that he's not had much luck.

REVEREND: Luck?

Divine intervention would hardly compensate for his complete lack of application.

When he started that chicken farm, what happened?

The fowl passed.

And when his uncle set him up in a stockbroker's job in the city, what happened?

- Fired.

And when his father and his mother sent him off to Australia, what did he do then?

Came back.

Exactly.

Well, Australia.

Well, how long are you proposing to be away?

Back the day after tomorrow, Dad.

That's all?

Well, it grieves me to say this, Bobby... ..but I fear you will not go with my blessing.

I didn't think that I would.

Badger.

Badger.

I know practically nothing about cars.

Ah, it doesn't matter, old chap.

I'll tell you, we're bound to succeed!

Put a lick of p-p-paint on, and that's all the ordinary fool notices.

BADGER LAUGHS BOBBY GRUNTS Pretty, don't you think?

Hmm?

It, er...

It, er, s-s-sticks a bit, that's all.

Here.

BADGER GRUNTS DOOR CLATTERS You see why I need you?

TRAIN WHISTLING Oh, I say.

I am just frightfully sorry.

Frankie?

Bobby.

HE CHUCKLES I haven't seen you for ages.

Well, I haven't seen you.

Are you planning to spend the entire journey on the floor, or are you going to sit down and talk to me?

Ticket is the wrong colour.

Leave it to me.

Everything all right, Your Ladyship?

Yes, perfectly, Inspector.

But my friend, Mr Jones, has just popped in to see me for a bit.

It won't matter, will it?

The gentleman won't be staying for long, I expect.

I shan't be around again till after whistle.

What can be done with a smile?

Nonsense.

Father has this habit of tipping everybody five shillings whenever he travels, that does it.

HE CHUCKLES I must say it's nice to see you.

I heard you'd given up the Navy.

Didn't axe you, did they?

Not at your age.

Eyes.

Oh.

You've always had trouble with your eyes.

I heard you had given up Wales for good.

After the party I went to last night, I thought even the castle couldn't be worse in spite of the draughts in the bathrooms.

Oh, what was the matter with it?

Oh, nothing really.

Just like any other party, I suppose, that was it.

It's odd, isn't it?

I have little to worry about.

I have a choice of houses to live in, hideous family jewels, credit at the shops.

It's all family.

It isn't me.

What is you, do you think?

When we were children playing together... ..happy.

I'm so tired of everything, aren't you?

No, not really.

I don't get the chance.

By the way, what's all this about a man falling over the cliff?

Oh, yes, poor devil.

Dr Thomas and I found him.

How did you hear about it?

In the paper.

It doesn't say anything about you and Dr Thomas, though.

Well... Would it?

What does it say?

"Fatal accident on Welsh coastal path.

"The victim of the recent tragedy at Marchbolt "was identified late last night "by means of a photograph he was carrying.

"The photograph proved to be that of Mrs Leo Cayman.

"Mrs Cayman was communicated with "and journeyed to Marchbolt, "where she identified the deceased "as her brother, Alex Pritchard.

"Mr Pritchard had recently returned from Siam.

"He'd been out of England for ten years "and was starting on a walking tour.

"Inquest will be held at Marchbolt on Monday."

I believe I shall have to give evidence.

Oh, Bobby, how thrilling!

I should come and listen to you.

I suppose nobody pushed him over, did they?

Pushed him over?

Good Lord, no.

Why?

Make it much more exciting, wouldn't it?

Life was not then extinct.

No, no, no, the deceased was still breathing.

There was, however, no hope of recovery.

The man's back was broken.

There were no signs of any violence such as might have been administered by a third party?

I can only say that all the injuries present are such as would have been occasioned by a man falling on the rocks 50 or 60ft below, sir.

There remains then the question of suicide?

DR THOMAS: That is perfectly possible.

Whether the deceased walked over the edge or threw himself over is something about which I cannot give an opinion.

- Thank you, Dr Thomas.

- Thank you.

- That will be all.

- Thank you, sir.

Lieutenant Robert Jones.

CAR HONKING MAN: Cry, you say?

What sort of cry?

Well, I mean, cry.

MAN: A cry for help?

Oh, no.

No.

More sort of shout, you know?

In fact, I wasn't quite sure that I'd heard it.

MAN: A startled kind of cry.

BOBBY: Oh, that's more like it.

Sort of sound a fellow might let out if a ball hit him unexpectedly.

Or if he took a step into nothingness when he thought he was on a path.

That's it, exactly.

HE SIGHS Thank you, Mr Jones.

Mrs Leo Cayman.

I swear by Almighty God, the evidence I shall give shall be the truth... SHE CLEARS THROAT ..the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

You are Mrs Amelia Cayman of 17 St Leonard's Gardens, Paddington.

You are related to the deceased?

He was my brother.

Mr Alex Pritchard.

Mrs Cayman, when did you last see your brother?

The day before.

The day before he fell.

He said he was going on a walking tour of Wales.

He had only just recently returned to this country from the East.

He was so looking forward to it.

MAN: He was in a happy and normal state of mind?

Yes.

He had no money troubles or troubles of any kind in his life recently?

Well, there was no sign of it.

MAN: Hmm.

What was his profession again?

Prospecting.

Well, that's what he called it.

He was very seldom in England.

You know of no reason at all which might have caused him to take his own life?

Thank you, Mrs Cayman.

I don't think we need to distress you any further.

Members of the jury, it is your task to decide how this man came by his death.

Sorry I was late.

I caught your bit, though.

I thought you were charming.

You make it sound like a school concert.

Well, there's little enough to do down here.

An inquest is a perfect godsend.

Mind you, I thought death by misadventure was a bit of a dead air.

I'd hoped for suspicion of foul play, but it all seems regrettably straightforward.

SHE CHUCKLES I would never have believed it.

What?

The girl in the photograph I found could end up looking like that.

FRANKIE: It looks exactly like her.

The photograph was touched up, that's all.

BOBBY: So touched up, you wouldn't have known it was the same person.

ENGINE REVS Anyway, where did you see it?

In the Marchbolt Times.

It probably reproduced badly.

Seems to me you're absolutely batty over a painted-up, rattled bitch.

Yes, I said bitch like the Cayman woman.

Frankie.

Well, you shouldn't have been so ridiculous.

SHE CHUCKLES What is ridiculous is to quarrel about the damned woman.

How about a game of golf tomorrow, hmm?

You can't be as bad as you used to be.

Can't I?

I'm not sure I'm all that keen on golf at the moment.

That's how all this started.

Well, who knows?

You may be lucky.

Perhaps there's a lunatic at large, a pusher of people off cliffs.

Will he strike again?

Does Bobby Jones, the vicar's son, hold the key to the mystery that's terrifying the inhabitants of this sleepy little Welsh town?

HE CHUCKLES Go home.

- Ten thirty?

- At the golf club.

I still think it looks exactly like her.

Ah, there is Bobby.

Bobby.

I do hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Mr Jones.

My husband is arranging for my poor brother's body, and, well, I was just wondering, er... Mrs Cayman was wondering if you had anything else you could tell her.

Yes, I know you told the coroner everything you could.

But, well, I did just wonder if there was some small personal thing.

You do understand, don't you?

Absolutely.

Oh, absolutely.

You see, I still can't believe it.

My poor Alex.

SHE SNIFFLES Poor, poor Alex.

Oh, I know.

Er, absolutely grim.

I think it's a little chilly in here.

Perhaps I better put a match to the fire.

You see, if he had left any last word or message, I...

I should like to know it.

It would mean so very much to me.

As a matter of fact, he didn't.

Nothing at all?

No.

Well, as a matter of fact... ..nothing at all.

Merciful to pass away unconscious without pain.

Yes, well, that is something to be thankful for.

I did say that I would meet my husband back at the hotel.

CAR HONKING You must put your trust in the great healer, time.

You're sure you wouldn't like us to walk you over to the hotel?

Oh, well, that's very kind of you, but I should like a few moments to be alone, you know.

Goodbye, Mr Jones.

Er, goodbye, Mr Jones.

Goodbye.

Really, Bobby, you had a tolerable education.

In moments of stress when an unfortunate human being demands words of comfort, is that the best you can do?

Absolutely grim.

I'm sorry, Dad, but I didn't know what to say.

It's all very well for you.

You're doing it all the time.

I don't know what you mean.

Kettle's on, vicar.

Tea won't be a minute.

How was stallum, Mrs Roberts?

Oh.

Market won't be worth going to soon.

Fewer stalls every week.

Mrs Roberts, have you seen last week's copy of the Marchbolt Times by any chance?

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Bobby.

I thought you and the vicar were finished with it.

I used it on the fire.

I-I don't suppose it matters.

Ah.

You see, you can do it when you try.

Well, at least it didn't go into the sea this time.

HE SIGHS Good Lord.

- What?

I've just remembered something.

Well.

That woman, Mrs Cayman, when she came 'round yesterday and asked if the fellow had said anything before he died, I told her he hadn't.

And he hadn't?

No.

No, I've just remembered now he did.

But it wasn't the sort of thing they meant.

That's why I didn't think of it, I suppose.

What did he say?

He said, "Why didn't they ask Evans?"

What a funny thing to say.

Nothing else?

No, he'd just opened his eyes and said that quite suddenly, and then he died.

Well, I wouldn't worry about it.

It wasn't important.

No.

Still, I wish I'd just mentioned it.

'Dear Mrs Cayman, I have just remembered 'that your brother did actually say something before he died.

'I think the exact words were, "Why didn't they ask Evans?"

'I apologise for not mentioning this yesterday, 'but I attached no importance to the words at the time, 'and so I suppose they slipped my memory.

'Yours truly, Robert Jones.'

Just going to the shop, Mr Bobby.

Oh, Mrs Roberts.

Er, Mrs Roberts, would you be kind enough to put this in the pillar box for me?

Oh, it's no trouble.

Posting a few for the vicar anyway.

Ha!

Well, I'm damned.

Really, Bobby.

Oh, sorry, Dad, I forgot you were there.

But somebody has offered me 1,000 a year.

What did you say?

1,000?

£1,000?

Hold and wonder.

But that's quite impossible.

A bit unlikely, I agree, but not impossible.

Who are these people?

Some shipping firm in Buenos Aires.

I've been highly recommended.

They don't say by whom.

Remarkable.

Hmm, remarkable.

Must be complete lunatics, I agree.

Nothing of the kind.

The South American firm has obviously realised the value of a young man of integrity.

All the same, Dad.

Why me?

Ex-officer of the British Navy, vicar's son.

Oh.

They want you to telegraph your acceptance immediately and be ready to sail for Buenos Aires within the week.

Well, it's short notice, I grant you.

Dad, I can't.

What on earth do you mean?

Well, I'm...

I'm fixed up, aren't I, with Badger?

Even Badger Beadon is competent.

You're a complete ass to imagine you're gonna turn down an offer of £1,000 a year.

It's no good, Dad.

I can't let him down.

He's counting on me.

Why is he counting on you?

Will you tell me that?

Simply because he knows that you're as big a fool as he is.

ORGAN PLAYING ♪ How beautiful you are ♪ ♪ They wouldn't believe me ♪ ♪ They wouldn't believe me ♪ - Really, Roberts.

- Oh.

Sorry, Dad.

Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child.

Haven't you anything to do?

Tell you the truth, Dad, I'm...

I'm a bit bored.

I thought I might go for a walk.

Do your part, a good young man.

A brisk 12 miles or so across country.

I wish I could come with you.

BIRDS CHIRPING BOTH LAUGHING HE PANTS HEART POUNDING SHE SCREAMS I've brought the usual flowers.

Rather a graveyard suggestion about them.

I'm afraid the choice was singularly limited.

I thought you were in London.

My dear, as soon as I heard about you, I tore back.

It's most exciting to have a romantically poisoned friend.

Oh.

I don't know whether morphia's so very romantic.

I hope you realise you're now gazing upon a medical phenomenon.

To listen to you, one would think nobody had ever been poisoned before.

Jolly few have been poisoned with eight grains of morphia and got over it.

Dash it all, Frankie, you don't seem very impressed.

Well, you might spare a thought for the people who poisoned you.

Whatever for?

Must be pretty sickening to them.

All that morphia, and there you are, alive and kicking.

I never thought of it like that.

Do you know Dr Thomas thought I'd done it deliberately?

Deliberately?

Yes.

He says anybody who plays golf the way I do should be forgiven for taking the easy way out.

BOBBY LAUGHS Someone must have put the stuff in my beer while I slept.

Apparently even the dregs were lethal.

It just goes to prove that what I said on the train was true.

What did you say?

That that man, Pritchard, or whatever his name was, didn't fall over the cliff at all.

He was pushed.

- Oh, Frankie.

- Well, it's obvious, darling.

Who would want to put you out of the way?

Have any enemies that you know of?

Hmm...

There you are then.

Where?

It must have been something to do with Pritchard.

You had seen something that you weren't supposed to see, or so they, whoever they are, think.

Bobby, well, has anything else out of the ordinary happened?

Well, there was that letter offering me a job for £1,000 a year in Buenos Aires.

People I'd never met.

Well, there you are then.

First, they tried to get rid of you by offering you a job abroad, and then, when that doesn't work, they have to put you out of the way altogether.

But what on earth is it I'm supposed to have seen?

Oh, well, that's a difficulty, I agree.

And anyway, if I had seen anything, I would have said so at the inquest, wouldn't I?

Well, I have to go and think about it.

And do I kiss you, or daren't I?

It's not catchy.

Then I'll do my duty to the sick thoroughly.

Magazines and papers.

I'm sorry they're a bit out of date.

And I'll see you tomorrow.

DOOR CLOSES Lady Frances?

Lady Frances?

Sorry, Lady Frances, but could you come back?

I think Mr Jones has had a relapse.

SHE GASPS Bobby.

What on earth is going on?

I want my tea.

This copy of the Marchbolt Times you left me, the one I never saw.

Look.

FRANKIE: "Portrait found on the dead man, "by which he was identified.

"Mrs Amelia Cayman, the dead man's sister."

So?

That isn't the photograph I put back in the dead man's pocket.

It isn't?

No.

But that means that...

Either there must be two photographs.

Which isn't likely.

Or... Or someone took the photograph that you saw and put another in its place.

That man that came along after Pritchard had died.

Bassington-ffrench, if that's his name.

- Oh, come on, Bobby.

Bassington-ffrench is hardly a name one's likely to make up.

What was he like?

I didn't notice him particularly.

He said he was a stranger down here and something about looking for a house.

Bobby, have you a thought?

If Pritchard was pushed, Bassington-ffrench is probably the man who did it.

He seemed such a nice fella.

Yes, but if it was murder, then it all fits.

You turn up where you're not supposed to, you find the photograph you're not supposed to.

They had to do something.

Won't work.

Why not?

If it was the photograph that was so important, whatever was going to be done about me would have been done at once.

Otherwise, the chances are that I'd have seen this copy of the Marchbolt Times and immediately said, "That isn't the photograph I saw."

Why wait until after the inquest to have a go at me when everything was nicely settled?

Oh, and there's another thing, Bassington-ffrench didn't appear until after I'd put the photograph back in the dead man's pocket.

Damn.

So it's got to be something they didn't know till after the inquest.

- Hmm.

I don't know why I keep saying they.

I do.

Because the Caymans must have been in it as well.

Of course.

I bet she wasn't even his sister.

Well, it puzzled me all along.

I mean, the dead man, whoever he was, was a gentleman.

Mrs Cayman was in a different class altogether.

But if he isn't Mrs Cayman's brother, then... who is he?

And why was it so important he shouldn't be recognised?

And why was the portrait of Mrs Cayman put into his pocket and the portrait of the fair unknown removed?

Hmm.

Was she fair?

She was very pretty.

Would you recognise her again?

Oh, I'd know her anywhere.

Bobby.

Hmm?

What was it that Pritchard said just before he died?

Er, why didn't they ask Evans?

But you didn't tell the Caymans that, did you?

As a matter of fact, I did.

You did?

Yes.

Yes, I wrote to them that evening saying it was probably quite unimportant, and they wrote back politely agreeing and thanking me for taking the trouble.

I felt rather snubbed.

And two days later, you get a letter from a strange firm bribing you to go to South America.

Yes.

SHE CHUCKLES Well, what more do you want?

Look.

Look at it from the Cayman's point of view.

Everything's gone off well, body's successfully identified, verdict of accidental death, everything in the garden lovely, then you come along and mess it all up.

Why didn't they ask Evans?

I don't see how that could put the wind up anybody.

That's because you don't know.

So what do we do now?

Check up on Bassington-ffrench.

I believe a friend of mine was down here the other day, a Mr Bassington-ffrench.

He was looking for a house.

Making enquiries about various properties with a view to purchase.

He was obliged to return to town the next day, so he couldn't view many of the houses we have to offer.

Since he left, one or two highly suitable properties have come onto the market, and I've sent him on particulars to a Merroway Court, Staverley, Hants.

But I've had no reply.

He's guilty.

He's definitely guilty.

I mean, you don't go to a house agent at six thirty in the evening, then up to London the following day.

Why make the journey at all?

Why not write?

I must say you've done jolly well so far.

And that's not all.

After that, I tackled Inspector Williams.

Oh, what did he say?

He said the deceased had very little on him.

One handkerchief not marked, some loose change, a packet of cigarettes, a couple of treasury notes, no letters, and just one photograph.

Not the one I saw.

Didn't he say anything else?

Yes, could he borrow the castle grounds for the police fete?

Oh, and there was a car seen in the vicinity the day that you were poisoned, a dark green Talbot saloon.

Did they get the registration number?

Well, no, not quite.

It was, erm, GG something or other.

Oh.

There must be hundreds of dark green Talbots in England.

Almost as many as there are Evans in the Marchbolt directory.

Four hundred and eighty-two.

I'm thinking of taking it for my text this Sunday.

And he that was dead came forth.

Well, Lazarus, you know, seems most apposite.

I beg your pardon, Lady Frances, I didn't see you.

I've always thought everyone must have been perfectly furious with him.

Lazarus, I mean.

Oh, there he was, safely tucked away, all that wailing and gnashing of teeth going on, then suddenly he's up and about, making everyone look silly.

It was a miracle, Lady Frances.

ROBERTS: Oh, hello doctor, come in.

Oh, good day, doctor.

How are you?

Let me take your clubs.

You're very kind, very kind.

This way.

Doctor is here.

Just come to take a look at him.

Time you were back on the golf course, young man.

I'm reduced to playing with people who can play.

There's St Luke, of course, thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.

I hardly think that applies to Bobby, do you?

Oh, no, perhaps not.

What about the child that Elisha raised from the dead?

Oh, much more fun than Lazarus.

I mean, he opens his eyes and sneeze seven times.

Yes.

As far as I can remember, our dear Bobby didn't sneeze at all.

If he gives you any trouble, Mrs Roberts, just let me know.

Oh, he won't do that, doctor.

Thanks, Dr Thomas.

HE SNEEZES Oh, you're off, doctor?

Oh, I must get in a few holes before surgery.

DR THOMAS CHUCKLES The doctor says I should be fit enough to go up to London next week.

- Good.

May I?

- Oh, please.

I thought you didn't approve of my going in with old Badger?

Easier to check up on the Hampshire Bassington-ffrenches from London than from this remote outpost of the British Empire.

CAR HONKING Bobby, this is George Arbuthnot.

He's a doctor, and we shall need him for a little scheme that I've got on.

Shall we?

You'll also need a car.

One of yours will do.

Do you mean you want to buy one of our cars?

Yes.

That's really very nice of you, Frankie, but I do actually draw the line at taking advantage of my friends.

You've got it all wrong as usual.

No, we really do need a car.

What about the Bentley?

Bentley is no good for what I want it for.

What's that?

Smashing it up.

I don't think I feel very well this morning.

She means she's going to have an accident.

BADGER: How does she know?

FRANKIE: Badger Beadon.

The last time I saw you, you were head down in the mud, and we had to pull you out by the legs.

My dear, you haven't changed a bit.

HE CHUCKLES Well, this time, I-I managed it under my own s-s-steam.

SHE CHUCKLES Frankie wants to buy one of our cars.

Oh, two cars.

George has got to have one too, and he's crashed his at the moment.

We can hire him one.

Well, come and have a look at what we've got in s-s-stock.

Ah-ha!

- They're very smart.

Oh, yes, they look all right.

That's the idea.

Now this... this is remarkably good value in, er, in s-s-second hand.

- Trojan?

- Yeah.

Oh, no.

No, not that one.

The Austin still got a bit of mileage in it.

The Standard, it should last another week or so.

FRANKIE: Hmm.

All right.

I'll take the Standard.

Cash.

Wow, first time I ever knew anyone with a title who could pay cash.

I'll just get the whatsit.

Now will someone please tell me what's going on?

Roger Bassington-ffrench.

I'm on the track.

Merroway Court belongs to his brother, and he lives there with him and his American wife.

Whose wife?

The brother's.

The point is, how am I gonna worm my way into the household?

Why you??

Why not me or both of us?

Because, my dear child, Bassington-ffrench knows you, and he doesn't know me from Adam.

And I'm in a frightfully strong position because I've got a title.

Very useful things, titles.

George and I have been down to the village and had a look around.

Strangers arriving there would simply stick out a mile, so we've developed a plan.

Who has?

Me and George.

Now this is what's going to happen.

ENGINE STUTTERING Oh.

You weren't actually going to sell this to someone?

All it needs is a bit of work.

It needs a new engine, a new gearbox, four new tyres, and some brakes.

Let's hope the law of gravity still holds good and it gets down the hill of its own volition.

Frankie, are you sure you know what you're doing?

FRANKIE: It's all beautifully planned, I told you.

George, off you go.

You're looking very pale, Frankie.

Are you sure you're all right?

I'm made up pale.

Wouldn't want me carried into the house blooming with health.

Now look, this is what you have to do, when George waves his handkerchief and I wave mine, start her off.

I'll stay on the running board until the pace gets too hot, and then I'll jump off.

Don't hurt yourself.

I should be extremely careful not to.

It might complicate matters to have a real accident on the spot of a faked one.

Right, he's there.

My turn.

Ooh, by the way, I'd better not write to you direct.

I'll write to George or my maid and get them to pass it on.

Frankie.

Look after yourself.

I mean, don't do anything foolish.

BICYCLE BELL RINGING Shall I roll around a bit, make myself dusty?

You might as well.

Here, give me your hat.

Oh.

Concussion.

BICYCLE BELL RINGING Lie doggo.

Ooh, has there been an accident?

No, the young lady ran her car into the wall on purpose.

Is she dead?

Not yet.

She must be taken somewhere at once.

I'm a doctor.

What is this place?

Merroway Court.

It belongs to Mr Bassington-ffrench.

You take her legs, I'll take her head.

There's been an accident!

Is there a room I can carry this lady into?

She needs to be attended to at once.

OK, take her in.

Shall I call a doctor?

- I am a doctor.

I happened to be passing in my car and saw the accident occur.

Ah.

In here.

Is she badly hurt?

I can't really tell till I have examined her.

I'll be in the hall if you want me.

She looks terribly pale, poor child.

SHE GROANS HE EXHALES FRANKIE: George darling, this won't blight your career, will it?

They won't strike you off the register or anything like that?

Probably.

If it ever comes out, that is.

I won't let it.

Don't worry, George, I shan't let you down.

By the by, you'd better be a Christian scientist.

LOUDLY: Christian... SOFTLY: ..scientist?

We don't want any other doctor examining you, do we?

Oh, George, you think of everything.

Now you will be careful.

I should be most circumspect.

You've got me into the enemy camp.

Bless you.

Now it's up to me.

I don't know whether it's the bang on the head or what it is, but I just don't want to move.

I could lie here for days and days.

Well, I wish you would.

It gets lonely here sometimes.

CHILDREN SHOUTING Tommy, play quietly.

Poor Lady Frances will never recover with you making all that noise.

Lady Frances is malingering.

Actually, it's marvellous to see him playing and enjoying himself.

He's had so many accidents recently.

Last winter, he nearly drowned.

Then, this spring, he fell from his swing.

Roger was... my brother-in-law was terribly upset because he was swinging him at the time.

You know, pushing him up high the way children love.

Well, he certainly looks splendid now.

Henry doesn't like him playing with the local children, but you see...

Playing with local children never did me any harm.

Quite the contrary.

Well, I know we're overprotective, but he is the only child.

A son and heir, it's understandable.

If anything were to happen to Tommy, I don't know...

Nothing will happen to Tommy.

Oh, Roger.

HE CHUCKLES Lady Frances, may I present the black sheep of the family, my brother-in-law, Roger?

Roger, this is Lady Frances Derwent.

You've made such a marked impression on the park wall.

Uncle Roger, Uncle Roger, Ralph said you were back.

How are you?

Have you brought my fort?

Tommy, how many times have I told you you mustn't ask for things?

Nonsense.

Promise is a promise, isn't it, old chap?

Oh, don't you worry, I've got your fort and your cowboys and your Indians.

They're all in the hall.

Off you go.

Hi, Papa.

Henry, old man.

You're back then.

- Are you joining us for tea?

HENRY: Tea?

No, I don't want any tea.

Watch must have stopped.

What time is it?

SYLVIA: Ten to four.

- It can't be.

I promise you it is.

CHILDREN SHOUTING For God's sake, tell those children to go home.

It was getting chilly anyway.

I'll just close the window.

I must go back to my study.

Do some accounts.

Damned head gardener.

I think some are fools.

I have offered to do the accounts for you.

Fat lot of use you'd be.

Here today and gone tomorrow.

I'm sorry about that.

It must be very boring for him, my butting in like this.

Henry doesn't mind that.

Henry doesn't mind anything these days.

I'll, er... go and have a word with him.

And, Roger, I'm glad you're back.

Hey, steady on, old chap.

Is that the afternoon post?

Yes, sir.

How many times do I have to tell you to bring it straight to me?

Very good, sir.

Put that lot on my desk.

I'll deal with them later.

METALLIC CLANGING - Dad.

REVEREND: Bobby.

Is that you?

BOBBY LAUGHS But what are you doing here?

Had to come up to sort out that dreadful mess about the new hymn books.

I ordered three dozen in red Morocco, and that fool Luis sends me two dozen black.

How are you, Dad?

Is everything all right?

Everything is not all right.

That young woman, who was taking your place only temporarily, I trust, doesn't seem to appreciate the fact that congregations like ours like their hymns taken at a leisurely pace.

Onward Christian soldiers may have been written to help a group of small children to climb a hill, but there's no reason why she should attack it in quite such a vigorous manner.

Oh.

Good, er, g-g-good morning, vicar.

Good morning, er, Badger.

I trust the venture prospers.

We sold three... three cars in five days.

Only one was brought back.

Erm, bloke said we must have given it an injection or something to get it going in the first place.

Remarkable.

How are you keeping yourself, my boy?

No more trouble, Dad, if that's what you mean?

Oh, talking of which, a friend of yours was kindly enquiring for you.

A friend?

A tall stooping man with very strong glasses.

He stopped me just as I was going into the vestry.

He seemed most anxious to know how you were.

I gave him your address.

I expect he'll be looking you up soon.

When was this, Dad?

Just a few days ago.

Would you like a cup of tea, vicar?

Erm, if you'll excuse me, I think I must catch the, er, twelve forty from Paddington.

Take care of yourself, my boy.

And you, Dad.

FRANKIE: That was a mistake.

You play a very good game.

No, I don't.

I'm too lazy to practise, but it's kind of you to say so.

Lady Frances.

Oh, please, please call me Frankie.

Everyone does.

You'll think I'm quite mad, I know.

After all, I barely know you.

But I do feel I have to speak to someone about Henry.

And I feel I know instinctively I can trust you.

Do you think you should?

Last night, I caught you watching him.

You see what I see, don't you?

The abrupt changes of mood, his appearance, the eyes.

Yes.

Yes, I have noticed.

It's morphia.

I'm sure it's morphia or some sort of opium.

Morphia?

I first noticed it about six months ago.

He was complaining of sleeplessness a good deal.

How he first came to get the wretched stuff, I don't know, but I think it began then.

How does he get hold of it?

By post, I'm almost certain.

Like yesterday, for instance, you saw how he was at tea time.

Something arrived in the afternoon post.

By dinner time, he was a different man.

Oh, Roger.

Where does it come from?

I know one thing, no reputable doctor would let him have it.

Why are you telling me this?

I don't know what to do about Sylvia.

You think she doesn't know?

HE SCOFFS Either she doesn't know or she doesn't want to know.

If only he'd consent to go for a cure.

There's a place quite near here actually run by Dr Nicholson, a Canadian, very clever man.

Henry likes him too.

SYLVIA: My, you two look as if you've been very energetic.

Three sets, and I lost every one.

I hope you haven't let him tire you out.

I thought we might make up a party.

Ask the Nicholsons over.

You'd like Moira Nicholson.

She is a pretty little thing, isn't she, Sylvia?

Well, men seem to think so.

Judge for yourself.

She has the most appealing eyes.

That's exactly what Alan Carstairs said.

Someone who came down here a few weeks ago with some friends of ours.

He seemed smitten by her, didn't he?

Looks a little sad.

It's hardly surprising.

Living in a sanatorium surrounded by depressives and drug addicts can't be much of a life.

Either she worships her husband or she's scared to death of him.

I can never make out which.

He is a very forceful man.

You don't like him?

No, I don't like him.

I don't like him at all.

Two loads of morphia turning up within days of each other can't be a coincidence.

But that would mean that Bassington-ffrench would have had to be around in Wales on the very day Bobby was poisoned.

When was it exactly?

Mm, let me think.

Tuesday, I had lunch with the Parkinsons, and Wednesday was the first night of that new review.

That was the 16th.

It must have been the 16th.

All you have to do is find out where Roger was on the 16th.

Oh, that's going to be very easy, isn't it?

Look, let it run on the black seven.

Bring the two across and you clear the king of hearts.

I'm sorry.

It's maddening, isn't it?

Quite maddening.

When you smile, are you sure we haven't met before?

Recently, quite recently?

Wasn't it at that party of Lady Shane's at Claridges?

The 16th it was.

Oh, he couldn't have been there.

The 16th was Tommy's birthday.

We had the most ghastly children's party.

I'd have got through it without Roger, I just don't know.

Besides, if I had met you before, I should never have forgotten.

That's the extraordinary thing about this place.

When nothing happens most of the time, the most trivial things become memorable.

Well, if you think this is quiet, you should try Wales.

Mind you, we do have the odd bit of excitement.

We had a man fall off the cliff last month.

We were all thrilled to the core.

Rotten for him, of course, but it did give us something to talk about.

Was that place called Marchbolt?

Yes, that's right.

We live seven miles from there.

What an extraordinary coincidence.

That must have been your man, Roger.

Your man?

I was actually in at the death, stayed with the body until the police arrived.

What were you doing there?

SYLVIA: He had some absurd idea of buying a house down there.

It's not absurd at all.

I shall settle down someday.

When you do, settle down near us, not in Wales.

Didn't turn out to be suicide or anything?

FRANKIE: Oh, no, it was all painfully aboveboard.

Didn't you all see his picture in the paper?

I really don't remember.

I think I've got a cutting in my bag.

Must have been awfully handsome, this Alex Pritchard, before he was dead, I mean.

FRANKIE AND SYLVIA LAUGH Oh, yes, I remember.

He looks a bit like Alan Carstairs, as I said so at the time.

There is a look of him about it, I agree.

There is no real resemblance.

Alan Carstairs, I've heard that name before somewhere.

Perhaps he was at Lady Shane's on the 16th.

Oh, he's quite as elaborate in his own way.

He's a Canadian, a naturalist, a big game hunter and explorer.

Not that I know him all that well.

He came down here with some friends of ours, the Rivingtons, for lunch one day.

A very attractive man.

And he fell in love with Moira Nicholson?

With her photograph, yes.

It was his first time in this country, I believe.

Last year, he'd been on tour through Africa with that millionaire man, John... Savage.

The one who thought he had cancer and killed himself.

Funny.

Your Alan Carstairs is looking so like that man who fell off the cliff at Marchbolt.

That's Dr Nicholson.

I thought they were coming to play tennis this afternoon.

Well, they said they were.

My dear Sylvia, I'm the bearer of sad tidings.

Moira has a slight migraine.

I'm afraid we won't be able to make up a set this afternoon.

Oh, my guest will be very disappointed.

My I introduce Lady Frances Derwent.

Lady Frances, Dr Jasper Nicholson.

How do you do?

Lady Frances has created quite a stir in the district.

I have?

Earl's daughter survives unorthodox arrival at Merroway Court.

SHE LAUGHS You know, there was one thing that intrigued me.

Yes.

The doctor who was passing, the one who brought you in here.

He must have had a most curious character.

To turn his car around before going to the rescue.

Sorry, I didn't understand.

Well, young, er... young Reeves, the messenger boy, he came from Staverley on his bicycle, and no car passed him, yet he comes around the corner, finds the smash... ..but the doctor's car pointing in the same direction as he's going towards London.

You see the point?

Good morning, Dr Nicholson.

Good morning, Thomas.

Have you come to see my fort?

Oh, not today, I'm afraid, young man.

Sounds most impressive.

I look forward to hearing all about it when you come to tea tomorrow.

Tea?

Thomas had made an assignation with my wife.

Didn't he tell you?

SYLVIA: Tommy, have you been inviting yourself again?

DR NICHOLSON: No, of course he hasn't.

And I'll show you the rabbits.

Shall we say three thirty?

Oh, thank you, Dr Nicholson.

I'll drive him over myself.

Fine.

CAR DOOR CLOSES, ENGINE REVS Bye.

He's fond of children?

He says he's not, but that Tommy is special.

I suppose he came to Tommy's birthday party then.

Oh, no, he was away that weekend.

FRANKIE: 'Dear Bobby, 'I think it's about time you came down.

'Get a chauffeur's livery, ours are always dark green, 'and put it down to Father's account at Harrods.

'I hope you have the moustache under control.

'And remember your name is Hawkins.

'It's all right, no-one will ever recognise you.

'People just don't look at chauffeurs.

'Come down here and ask for me.

'You'll have to put up at the pub 'and get what local information you can there, 'particularly about a Dr Nicholson 'who runs a place for dope fiends.

'Several suspicious circumstances about him, 'like he owns a dark green Talbot saloon, 'was away from home on the 16th when your beer was doctored 'and is altogether far too interested 'in my accident.

'Au revoir, my fellow sleuth.

'Love, from your successfully concussed Frankie.

'Ooh, and PS, 'I think I've identified the corpse.'

I just don't like Tommy going over there.

You shouldn't have said he could go then.

If Tommy ever found out what he does to those poor rabbits.

What's the matter with the rabbits?

Oh, he uses them for drugs, tests, experiments.

All that sort of thing.

What about the people?

Have you ever thought about the suffering and torment they go through?

Can you imagine what it's like to get used to a drug and then have it taken away from you?

People have gone raving mad.

And all you can think about are the rabbits.

Leave him.

Everything all right then, Hawkins?

Yes, my lady.

She's been thoroughly overhauled.

That's all right then.

Quite a bus you've got there.

Yes, sir.

You'll get some pace out of that.

I do.

You will put up at the Anglers' Arms in Staverley, Hawkins.

I'll telephone you tomorrow if I want the car.

Fancy a game of croquet before tea?

Only if you promise to let me beat you.

Does the young lady have many accidents?

More of a danger to herself than other people.

That's women, innit?

Oi, woman behind the wheel.

It's hardly natural, is it?

HE SCOFFS Still, she's lucky to end up where she did.

It's a nice house, Merroway Court.

Only big place around here, is it?

Well, there's the Grange.

Been empty for years until it was taken over by this Canadian doctor.

Nicholson his name is.

There are some queer goings-on up there, if you ask me.

Goings-on?

There are those there that don't wanna be there.

They're most put away at the Grange by their relations.

Oh, I assure you, Mr Hawkins, the moanings and groanings and shriekings that are going up there, you wouldn't believe.

FOOTSTEP THUDS SHE PANTS SHE SIGHS It's all right.

It's quite all right.

SHE SOBS What's the matter?

Get away.

Get away.

No.

No, no, no, I want to help you.

Do you?

No-one can help me.

Well, at least tell me what it is that fright... SOFTLY: You're the girl in the photograph.

They're coming.

They're coming.

You can't help me unless you go now.

You must go now, please.

Mr Hawkins.

Mr Hawkins!

Oh, er...

HE CLEARS THROAT Yes.

Sorry I was miles away.

You're wanted on the telephone.

Ah.

Hello.

- Hello.

- 'Hello, Frankie.'

Lady Frances Derwent here.

Is that you, Hawkins?

'Yes, my lady.'

I want the car ten o'clock to take me up to London.

'Very good, Your Ladyship.'

It is a nuisance having to go up to London today just because Father insists I see his doctor.

He's perfectly right.

I'd half thought of asking you to give me a lift.

That would be lovely.

But on second thoughts, I don't think I'd better go out today.

That wretched brother of mine is even odder than usual.

I don't want to leave Sylvia alone with him.

I can imagine how you feel.

You will be back this evening?

Yes, of course.

Well, I look forward to that.

Goodbye.

You are coming back?

I told you this evening.

Promise.

I promise.

She's gone.

Don't worry, Sylvia.

She'll be back.

Right.

I think we can talk.

Do you talk to Hawkins?

You're not Hawkins.

I know that, and it really is quite a strain.

I mean, for instance, when does one say "my lady", and when does one say "your ladyship"?

Sort of thing the real Hawkins knows and I don't.

I could get caught out.

I think I'm moulting.

Really is frightfully good.

It's also frightfully uncomfortable.

Now I'm nearly certain that the dead man was someone called Carstairs.

- Carstairs?

- Alan Carstairs.

He was a big-game hunter and explorer.

And he was brought down to the Bassington-ffrenches by some people called Rivington.

And I found the original of the photograph.

Not the one in the man's pocket?

Yes.

Bobby, that's marvellous.

Where?

In the grounds of Dr Nicholson's nursing home.

You know, I'm afraid of that man, Nicholson.

I think he's definitely suspicious.

You mean you don't like him?

Well, Sylvia doesn't like him either.

Frankie, what do you think is at the bottom of all this?

Morphia.

Morphia?

It's the only thing that you and I and Dr Nicholson have in common.

I don't understand.

It's too much of a coincidence.

First, someone tries to poison you with morphia.

Then Roger's worried his brother's a morphine addict.

Then Dr Nicholson turns up in charge of a clinic who uses morphia.

What's more, on the day that you were poisoned, Roger was at Merroway Court and Dr Nicholson wasn't.

And remember that he drives a dark green Talbot saloon.

Not exactly evidence, I know, but you must admit it fits nicely.

Almost too nicely.

And Roger, what about him?

You know, I think you're wrong about him.

In what way?

You've cast him as the villain of the piece, haven't you?

Not at all.

You worked it out logically, and you decided he must be the villain of the piece.

Because of the photograph.

Yes.

Roger was on that clifftop when the man went over.

No-one else could have changed it.

But that's all we've got against him, really, isn't it?

- All?

- No, well, I know, but... now I feel he's innocent.

- Frankie.

- Hmm?

You haven't fallen for Roger, have you?

Don't be absurd.

Bobby, I just feel there must be some sort of innocent explanation.

I don't see how that can be, especially now that we've found the girl in the photograph actually in the neighbourhood.

That seems to clinch the matter.

LOUD BANG Frankie, duck.

TYRES SCREECHING The question is, did Alan Carstairs get the Rivingtons to bring him down to Staverley deliberately, or was it just chance?

Or was he simply on the track of the girl?

The girl?

She may have been abducted.

He may have come to England to find her.

That might explain why he was carrying the photograph.

But if he tracked her down to Staverley, what was he doing in Wales?

Obviously there's a lot we don't know yet.

Like Evans.

Evans?

Why didn't they ask Evans?

We haven't had any clues about Evanses at all.

The Evans part of it must have to do with Wales.

When we get to London, I think we'll go to Brook Street.

Father is away, and the house is practically empty.

We can decide what to do about the Rivingtons there.

Rivington, Rivington.

Builders Rivington.

Dental surgeon, didn't think so.

Do you... Miss Florence Rivington.

Colonel H Rivington.

DSO, Tite Street, Chelsea.

Oh, that sounds more like it.

There are four more, but we've got to start somewhere, and I think Tite Street sounds as good a place as any.

But what are we going to say?

Oh, think up a few good lies, Frankie.

I'm useless at that sort of thing.

You'll have to go, you know.

Oh.

Like this?

No.

No, as the junior partner in a solicitor's firm, I think.

Ah.

Well, that seems a most gentlemanly role.

I was afraid you might think of something much worse than that.

All right, just a minute.

Ah, here we are.

Mr Frederick Spragge.

You are a young member of the firm of Spragge, Spragge, Jenkinson and Spragge, of Bloomsbury Square.

They're Father's solicitors.

You'll have to stick with that moustache.

I'm afraid it's sticking to me.

And if you're borrowing Father's solicitors, you'd better borrow his clothes.

They'll sue me for false representation or whatever it's called.

- They can't.

The only living Spragge is about 100.

Oh.

Sloan, oh six two nine.

Here, hold this, can you, please?

He's a terrible snob, and he eats out of my hand.

- Yes, I know, but... - Don't worry.

I'll fix him when things go wrong.

Good afternoon.

This is Spragge, Spragge, Jenkinson and Spragge.

The young woman who phoned from your office said the matter was urgent.

Spragge.

Yes, yes, it is rather.

It's about our client, Mr Alan Carstairs.

Oh, yes.

Perhaps he mentioned we were acting for him.

I believe he did.

But of course, I know all about you anyhow.

You do?

You acted for Dolly Maltravers, didn't you, when she shot that dreadful dressmaker man?

I suppose you know all the details?

We know a lot that never reaches the general public.

I suppose you must.

But tell me, did she really?

I mean, was she really dressed as that woman said?

The story was contradicted in court.

Oh.

SHE LAUGHS Oh, I see.

Well, do sit down.

- Thank you.

Mind you.

Now about Mr Carstairs, he left England very suddenly, as perhaps you know.

No, I didn't know.

We haven't seen him since.

Mind you, I always had my suspicions about Dolly Maltravers.

She did get off, Mrs Rivington.

Oh, but I asked you.

To return to Mr Carstairs, you saw him last when?

Oh, six weeks ago, two months.

Sorry, I really can't remember.

But surely I thought... Oh, yes, of course I can.

It is when we took him down to Staverley.

- Ah.

- He'd just arrived in England.

We were going to Scotland, so I said to Hubert, "Let's take him down with us to the Bassington-ffrenches.

"They won't mind."

So we did, and, of course, they didn't.

He didn't know the Bassington-ffrenches?

No, but I think he liked them.

Though something seemed to upset him.

He was very quiet and moody on the way home.

But then, of course, he's a Canadian.

Canadians are so awfully touchy, don't you think?

HE CHUCKLES You don't know what it was that upset him?

I haven't the least idea.

Did he meet any of the neighbours, go for a walk, anything like that?

No.

It's just ourselves and them.

- Ah.

But it's odd you're saying that because he did ask an awful lot of questions about some people who live nearby.

A doctor, something or other.

Nicholson?

- Ooh, do you know him?

- Well, I have had occasion.

Oh, I must say he sounds absolutely fascinating.

Did Mr Carstairs know the Nicholsons?

No.

And that's what made it so odd because he wasn't a curious man as a rule, but he wanted to know all about them, how long they'd lived there, where they came from, all that sort of thing.

Did he say why he himself was in England?

No.

But we thought he would deny that it might be something to do with that poor millionaire friend of his who died so tragically.

Now, what was his name, you know?

Savage.

John Savage.

Alan was very upset about that.

Do you know some doctor actually told the poor man that he had cancer, and he killed himself?

Disgraceful.

I mean, only last spring, our doctor told poor Hubert that he had mumps when all it was was swollen glands.

Thank God.

To return to Mr Carstairs, we're trying to trace him rather urgently, you see, and he hasn't left an address.

And when we heard him mention that he was a friend of yours, we thought you might be able to help us.

Oh, I see.

No, I'm afraid I can't.

We haven't seen him since.

Ah.

Well, thank you very much, Mrs Rivington.

I do apologise for having taken up so much of your time.

It's so interesting, I think, the way the legal mind operates.

And of course it's fascinating to know that Dolly Maltravers really did.

Mrs Rivington, I said nothing at all.

Yes, but then you lawyers are always so discreet, aren't you?

Hmm?

FRANKIE: So it was just chance talking to the Bassington-ffrenches.

BOBBY: And while he was there, someone mentioned the Nicholsons.

FRANKIE: You see, it is Nicholson who is at the heart of the mystery and not Roger.

Ooh, looks quiet.

I wonder where they all are.

He wasn't expecting you back so soon.

He's probably out pushing people over cliffs.

Thank you, Hawkins.

That will be all.

I'll telephone you when I need you.

Anyone at home?

I-I-I interrupted you.

I came back sooner than I meant.

Mrs Bassington-ffrench is very upset.

Yes, I rather gathered that.

But she had to know the truth.

I want her to persuade her husband to place himself entirely in my hands.

If she should mention the matter to you.

I hardly think she will do.

If she should... ..try to persuade her that it really would be best.

You see... ..an addict can destroy not only himself, Lady Frances.

He can destroy everything he loves the best.

You said... you said you'd help me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have come.

Of course you should have come.

I'll do anything.

Anything in the world to help you.

Oh, don't be frightened.

You're safe now.

You must think me mad.

You must think me quite mad coming here like this.

It's just that I'm so frightened.

I'm so terribly frightened.

I know you're not mad.

I wouldn't blame you if you did, finding me in that dreadful place with all those... Look here, I know nothing about you at all.

Tell me.

Tell me everything.

Tell me who you are.

You mean you don't know?

I'm Moira Nicholson.

Dr Nicholson's my husband.

He's going to murder me.

Thank you.

I don't understand.

Why should your husband want to murder you?

Because he wants to marry Sylvia Bassington-ffrench.

But she's married already.

He's arranging for that.

What do you mean?

He's trying to get Henry admitted to the Grange as a patient.

And then?

Once he was there, something would happen.

What does Sylvia's brother-in-law think of this?

Roger?

He's rather nice, I think.

But she's the sort of person who would be very easily deceived.

Jasper's working on him to try to persuade Henry to come to the Grange.

Don't let him come, please.

If he does, something awful will happen.

I know it will.

How long have you been married to your husband?

Just over two years.

Haven't you ever thought of leaving him?

How could I?

I have nowhere to go.

I have no money.

People would think I was mad.

A poor, pathetic woman going around saying her husband was trying to murder her.

I've seen it in his eyes when he looks at me.

Who would ever believe me?

Well...

I believe you.

Thank you.

Oh, thank you.

MEN TALKING INDISTINCTLY Look... if I'm going to help her, I've got to ask you some questions.

Did you ever know a man called Alan Carstairs?

Yes.

You knew him before you were married?

Yes.

Did you at some time or other give him your photograph?

Yes.

Has he been here to see you since you were married?

A few weeks ago.

Did... did your husband know of this?

No.

Are you sure?

I don't understand.

Would you say your husband was a jealous man?

Jealous?

No.

Possessive, yes.

Why are you asking me all these questions?

Look, there's a lot I have to tell you, but it isn't safe to go on talking here.

And besides, you've got to meet Frankie.

Lady Frances Derwent?

I thought you were her chauffeur.

The landlord said you... Trust me, I'll explain about that too.

But we've got to find some place to talk where there's no danger of being overheard.

Lady Frances, I'd like you to meet Mrs Nicholson, the original of the photograph.

Oh, I'm sorry.

But I do see now why the sight of Mrs Cayman at the inquest came as such a shock to you.

I must be an absolute fool not to realise.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand.

Oh, no.

No, of course you don't.

Look...

I am afraid I'm gonna have to give you rather a shock.

This friend of yours, Alan Carstairs, he's... ..well, you've got to know he's dead.

Tell me.

He fell over a cliff at Marchbolt, the place where I live.

I and the doctor there happened to be the ones to find him.

So that's why he never came back.

BOBBY: He had your photograph in his pocket.

Dear Alan.

So... when I came face to face with you that night, you can imagine how I felt.

You recognised me very quickly.

I'd have recognised you anyway.

When did all this happen?

I think it was just after he came down here.

Did he mention anything about going to Wales?

You don't by any chance happen to know anyone called Evans, I suppose?

Evans?

No, I don't think so.

Why?

Just before your friend died, he regained consciousness and said... Why didn't they ask Evans?

It's a very common name.

And then these terrible people, the Caymans, turned up at the inquest and identified him as Mrs Cayman's brother, Alex Pritchard.

FRANKIE: And your photograph had gone, and this Cayman woman was in its place.

Here in the East, we'll have the Comanches.

It says on the box Sioux.

Well, it's the principle that counts.

Now where's that cannon?

Do be careful, won't you?

Mum says you must never point it at anyone, even though it's only clockwork.

Quite right.

We'll put it here, I think, then we can really let them have it.

You do it, old boy, will you?

Just about there, I think.

Tommy.

Yes, Father.

I just wanted to say if ever I seem a bit, well, you know, short-tempered, it doesn't mean anything, you know?

I don't always feel very well.

Nothing personal, you understand?

I think so, Father.

Henry, I need to talk to you.

I was just watching for the post, my dear.

He's not due for nearly an hour.

Tommy, you go down to the kitchen with Mary.

The cook has a surprise for you.

- Come along, Master Tommy.

- What's the surprise, Mary?

MARY: I don't want to spoil it by telling you.

And we think that Roger Bassington-ffrench pushes Pritchard or Carstairs over the cliff.

Roger?

He was in the right place at the right time.

And more important, he was the only one who could have removed the photograph.

I'm sorry, but there's something I must ask you.

Ask away.

I don't know how to put this without sounding... Well, did you really come down here by accident?

Or did you come because you suspect my husband?

I give you my word of honour, we'd never even heard of your husband till we arrived down here.

Only you see, I think my husband suspects you.

QUICK THUD What was that?

Heavy-footed rabbit, probably.

What does your husband suspect?

Well, that your accident, when you drove into the wall, that it wasn't really an accident at all.

He's quite right, it wasn't.

Wasn't?

I drove into the wall on purpose, and Bobby came down and pretended to be my chauffeur.

The whole thing was staged because Bobby wanted to... Well, how does one put it?

..get a line on Roger Bassington-ffrench.

I'm sorry, but I think that's absurd.

Roger's weak, wild perhaps, but pushing someone over a cliff, I mean, why should he?

He and Alan Carstairs had only met once, at lunch at Merroway Court.

There's no motive.

I just don't believe it.

And I don't believe it either.

The fact remains he is the only one who could have taken your photograph.

There's an easy way to settle it.

Why don't you ask him?

How on earth did you come to guess that?

You did?

Yes, I had to.

But why?

Well, now, here am I mounted guard over a stranger's dead body.

I see a photograph sticking out of his jacket pocket.

I look at it.

I can't believe it.

It's the photograph of a woman I know.

A married woman.

And a woman I suspect is not too happily married.

What's to be done?

An inquest?

Publicity?

I acted on impulse.

Took the photograph and tore it up.

So that's it.

If only you knew.

- Knew what?

I can't tell you at the moment.

But please trust me.

I do see now why you took the photograph, but was there any objection to saying that you recognise the man that you met him down here only the week before?

My dear girl, are you quite mad?

Alan Carstairs.

You did meet Alan Carstairs?

The man who came down with the Rivingtons?

The dead man wasn't Alan Carstairs.

Oh, but he was.

You must have recognised him.

I didn't see his face.

He had a handkerchief spread over it.

How beautifully uncurious men are.

I feel terribly sorry for her.

For Moira Nicholson?

Why?

Being married to a man like that.

Yes, I know what you mean.

I don't much care for him myself.

And yet you want Henry to go to his clinic.

Well, that's different.

That's professional.

What's more, I think Sylvia is about ready to agree.

I spoke to her this afternoon.

Sit down, Roger.

I've got to prove to you that Dr Nicholson is a dangerous criminal.

What?

And that your brother is in mortal danger.

Even if you're right, what does it prove?

Mind you, if you could share that Nicholson had been in Marchbolt on the day of the cliff tragedy or if you could find any definite motive linking him with Alan Carstairs, it might be different.

It seems to me you're ignoring the real suspects.

Who?

The people you say made the false identification in the first place, the Heymans.

Caymans.

Seems to me as if they're in it up to their hilt.

I mean, look at their insistence on knowing whether the poor fellow said anything before he died.

They obviously thought that your friend, Bobby Jones, was in possession of some knowledge that was dangerous to them.

So they tried to eliminate him.

Bobby says it's absolutely grim.

You don't think they'll try again if they get on his track?

Then we must get on to theirs first.

I can't think why we haven't done so before.

Now you know what Moira thinks her husband is after.

Do you still think your brother should go to the Grange?

Roger, I've been looking for you everywhere.

Would you like me to go?

No, Frankie, don't go.

There's no point, is there?

You know all there is to know.

I've been blind.

Blind.

You both saw what I never even suspected, or was it simply that I closed my eyes to it because I didn't want to see, couldn't see?

All I knew was that Henry had changed so, but I never suspected the reason.

But it's going to be all right, Roger.

He's agreed he'll go to the Grange, and he'll put himself in Dr Nicholson... - No.

- There are other places.

Places not so near at hand.

Half an hour ago you were all for Henry's going to the Grange.

Why have you changed your mind?

It's simply that I've been thinking it over, and I think there are other places.

It's no good.

I want Henry in Dr Nicholson's care and no-one else's.

Just let me telephone him one more time.

But I shan't change my mind, Roger.

I don't know how to apologise.

You must think of us... - Sylvia if I'm in any way an embarrassment, I'll go.

Oh, no, please stay.

Poor Henry.

He was so upset at my knowing, he cried.

He promised he'd do anything he could for my sake and for Thomas' sake.

Sure, he will.

Dr Nicholson is warming up to get him on the premises.

I've said such dreadful things about that man, yet when it was necessary, he was the one person who told me the truth.

We all change our minds sometime or other.

AEROPLANE HOVERING Look.

I know I haven't paid last month's bill, but you can't run a second-hand car shop without spare parts.

I'm not asking you to throw good money after bad.

Just... Er... but...

Excuse me, just think of it as an investment.

Nicholson's out, I left a message.

I still don't understand.

You suggested this plan, it's all been arranged, and Henry's consented.

Sylvia, I am Henry's brother.

GUN FIRES What was that?

- Sounded like... - Tommy!

TOMMY: Daddy!

Daddy!

SYLVIA: Tommy.

Henry?

Henry?

It's locked.

TOMMY SCREAMING Stay here.

Look after him.

Tommy.

Tommy.

It's all right.

I'll just go and see him.

Stand back, I'll have to break it.

SHE GASPS Oh.

How ghastly.

"I feel this is the best way out.

"It's too late.

Can't fight it now, I know.

"I want to do the best I can for Sylvia.

"Sylvia and Tommy... "..God bless you both, my dear.

"Forgive me."

DR NICHOLSON: I think you'd better let me take over.

SYLVIA: Has something happened to Henry?

Look after her.

Take her away.

- Tell me what's happened.

ROGER: Everything's all right.

Dr Nicholson is there.

There's been an accident.

It's going to be all right.

Come along, Tommy.

Nothing to be done.

Death must have been instantaneous.

Oh, poor fool.

Obviously he felt he couldn't face the music.

Drugs always end in tragedy.

Always.

There will have to be an inquest, of course.

I will telephone the police.

Oh.

The key is not in the lock.

Oh, perhaps it's in his pocket.

Operator.

Operator!

Ah!

This is Dr Nicholson of the Grange.

Put me through to the police station at once.

TOMMY PANTS - Is it farewell?

FRANKIE: No, Tommy.

Is Daddy OK?

DR NICHOLSON: There's been a fatality at Merroway Court.

Get over here as fast as you can.

Bring the police with you.

I want to play now.

I want to be playing now.

I better call my chauffeur.

The sooner I go... No, please, don't do that, Lady Frances.

Sylvia will need a friend with her tonight.

Preferably a woman.

Well, if you think I can be of any help.

Three seven four.

This is Lady Frances Derwent.

Could you bring my chauffeur to the phone, please?

BOBBY: 'My lady?'

Something awful has happened.

We must meet tomorrow.

Same time, same place as today.

'Frankie, are you all right?'

Lady Frances, will you give me a hand to get Sylvia upstairs, please?

- Henry.

- No, no, Sylvia, Sylvia.

- Henry.

- Sylvia, please.

- Henry!

- Sylvia, please.

Come along.

Calm yourself.

Poor old Henry.

BOBBY: Frankie.

It sounds absolutely ghastly.

FRANKIE CLEARS THROAT It is quite certain he didn't commit suicide.

Must have been suicide.

We were all in the conservatory with Roger when we heard the shot.

By the way, Nicholson seems to have appeared rather conveniently.

He'd left his big mamma something rather behind earlier, and he'd come back for it.

- Frankie.

- Mm?

Suppose for a minute, Nicholson shot old Henry.

Having first persuaded him to write a suicide note.

That would be the easiest thing in the world to fake.

A fake that would convince the dead man's wife, his brother.

Look, if you're in such a state that suicide seems the only way out, how good, how typical would your handwriting be?

Mm.

Go on.

Nicholson shoots Bassington-ffrench, leaves a farewell letter, nips out, locking the door, only to appear a few minutes later as though he just arrived.

It's a good idea.

But it won't work.

And to begin with, the key was in Henry's pocket.

Who found it there?

Nicholson did.

- There you are then.

- What?

What's easier for him than to pretend to find it?

Oh, but I was watching him, remember?

I'm sure the key was in his pocket.

Sylvia saw him drive up when we ran around to the study windows.

In fact, she brought him around.

I hate to say it, but he has a perfect alibi.

Three deaths.

Three?

Alan Carstairs, Henry Bassington-ffrench, and there, but for the grace of God, goes you.

Who's next?

Moira.

Good Lord, I had forgotten all about her.

So I'd noticed.

We must persuade her to leave the Grange at once.

We could send her down to Wales.

Take Father's mind off his beastly gout.

And she'd be perfectly safe at the castle.

If you can fix it, Frankie, nothing could be better.

It's extraordinary how men like helpless women.

Bring the car around half past ten and I'll rescue your precious Moira for you.

It's grim.

Absolutely grim.

Starts off as some sort of adventure.

Why didn't they ask Evans?

Well, why didn't they?

Might have saved us an awful lot of bother.

Poor little boy.

I-I have an idea about Evans.

I have a feeling that although he's been the starting point, he really doesn't matter at all.

Sometimes I don't think there is an Evans.

Rather creepy, isn't it?

No wonder Moira gets the horrors here.

Be careful.

Don't do anything silly.

DOORBELL RINGING I've called to see Mrs Nicholson.

WOMAN SCREAMING - Lady Frances.

- Oh.

Good morning, Dr Nicholson.

- Good morning.

Oh, you don't come with bad news about Sylvia, I hope.

No, no, she was still asleep when I left.

Ah.

Well, eventually she will have to face the brutal reality of her husband's death, but for the first few days, we must try to soften the shock, the sense of loss.

I'll call 'round this afternoon, make sure she's all right.

I'm sure you're very busy, Dr Nicholson.

I don't want to trouble you.

I really came to see your wife.

Moira.

That's very kind of you.

Very kind.

If she isn't up yet, I could sit and wait.

- Oh, she's up.

- Oh, good, good.

I want to persuade her to come to me for a visit to Derwent Castle.

She's practically promised.

Really?

Well, I had no idea that you'd met my wife, Lady Frances.

I met her yesterday when I was out walking, and I recognised her at once from her photograph at Merroway.

She said she'd never been to our part of Wales, so I thought, "There's no time like the present," don't you agree?

I'm sure my wife would have enjoyed that very much indeed.

Would have?

Unfortunately, she went away this morning.

- Went away?

- Just for a little change.

Oh.

You don't know where she's gone?

London, I imagine.

You know, shops, theatres, you know, the sort of thing.

Good, well, I'm on my way to London now.

If you'll give me her address, I could call on her this afternoon.

Well, she usually stays at the Savoy, but in any case, I shall be hearing from her in a day or so.

I believe in perfect liberty between husband and wife.

Yes, I think the Savoy will be the most likely place for you to find her.

So very kind of you to think of asking my wife to stay, Lady Frances.

Oh.

I told them you'd come.

I told them.

You are going to take me away, aren't you?

I do so want to come home.

- This lady is not your sister.

Leave me alone!

SHE SOBS Be a good girl.

Be a good girl.

We have written to your sister.

I told you that yesterday.

Don't you trust us?

Nurse, would you show Lady Frances out, please?

Come on.

Let's go upstairs.

Poor creature.

What will happen to her?

The doctor will give her something to quieten her down.

Morphia?

Whatever he thinks is best.

Drive around the corner.

Up a track or something.

We've got to talk.

Brandy.

Brandy.

Frankie, are you all right?

No, I'm not all right.

I'm shaking.

I'm actually shaking.

Now I know how a mouse must feel when a cat won't quite kill it.

SHE SHIVERS BOBBY: Gone away.

When?

FRANKIE: This morning he said, he said.

I don't believe it.

Moira would never have left without letting us know.

Where is she supposed to be?

He says he doesn't know.

She may be at the Savoy.

On the other hand, she may not be.

He believes in perfect liberty between husband and wife.

I knew it.

We should never have let her go back there yesterday.

Bobby.

You don't think she's... ..dead, do you?

CAR DOOR CLOSES ENGINE REVS TELEPHONE RINGING HE CLEARS THROAT Hello.

BOBBY: 'Badger?'

- Bobby!

Thank heavens, a friendly voice at last.

Listen, I need your help.

Meet me at that cafe, Fred's or whatever it's called, in three quarters of an hour.

Come on the motorbike and bring me some clothes.

Oh, and, Badger, in my suitcase, you'll find my old service revolver.

A revol... A-A gun?

Robert Jones, I don't like the sound of that at all.

Oh, don't worry, I know what I'm doing.

But you do see it, don't you?

If Moira is in that house, I've got to get her out.

You will be careful.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

And I think Hawkins, the chauffeur, will have to disappear.

I'll move over to the Station Hotel at Ambledever.

It's only a few miles away from the Grange.

But if you're not Hawkins, who are you, if I have to get hold of you?

I quite like being Mr Spragge.

I think I'm going to do a little sleuthing of my own.

- Oh, Frankie.

- Follow up Roger's hunch.

The Caymans, the rotten old Caymans who we know were not what they seemed.

You still have their address?

- Yes.

I don't want you doing anything that might be dangerous.

Look, if it will make you feel any better, I'll get Dr George Arbuthnot to help me.

It won't.

Well, I suppose he's better than nothing.

Anyway, if the Caymans are as guilty as you seem to think they are, I'll bet you anything the birds have flown.

As the Caymans have obviously fled, can't we go to lunch?

Don't give up so easily, George.

BOBBY: Badger.

I've wrapped your gun in your pyjamas.

I don't want it now, you fool.

I still wish you'd tell me where you've been and what's going on.

If I could tell anyone, I'd tell you.

Look, so far, if anyone's known anything, something's happened to them.

And I don't want anything happening to you or Frankie.

That's why I made her come back to London and wanted you to meet me here instead of the garage.

Why?

In case it's being watched.

How's trade?

Could be worse.

Oh.

When I get this cleared up, if ever I do, we will really get down to it, I promise.

Hmm.

Shall I take your chauffeur's uniform?

Oh, no.

No, I better hang on to that.

You never know.

Well, I'd better get back to Staverley, I suppose.

Ah!

St... St... Oh, forget I said that, would you?

Oh, here we are.

HE SIGHS Well, that was a waste of time.

What we found is a railway timetable opened on page 37.

Chipperfield.

Chipping Camden.

Chipping Norton.

Chipping Sabra.

Chipping Somerton.

Chadley Knighton.

Well, where are you gonna start?

FRANKIE: John Savage.

What?

Where have I heard that name before?

Oh, I know.

Sylvia Bassington-ffrench, when she was talking about Alan Carstairs.

He'd been on safari with Savage.

Well, what does it say?

"Sir Robert of Portchester broke his leg yesterday "when his yacht, the ill-starred Andorra, "was rammed leaving the harbour.

"Could there be a jinx on this unlucky boat?

"It will be remembered that its last owner, "the millionaire John Savage, "committed suicide on learning he had cancer."

Well, where does that get us?

Mrs Rivington told Bobby that Alan Carstairs was very upset about Savage's death.

It could be.

Could be what?

It could be that we've been barking up the wrong tree.

Supposing it was Savage's death that Alan Carstairs wanted to find out about and supposing he was on the track of something.

All right, supposing, how do we find out?

Why would anyone want to kill a millionaire?

Money.

Something in his will?

Perhaps he left it all to Evans.

You know, why didn't they ask Evans?

Good heavens, I'd forgotten all about him.

And, you know, when I do think about him, I think he's a complete and utter red herring.

Come on, finish your coffee.

We're going to take proper counsel.

- Where do we go now?

- To see Mr Spragge.

This is indeed a pleasure, Lady Frances.

And how is Lord Marchington?

Well, I trust?

Suffering from gout and bad temper.

In other words, much as usual.

Well, to what do we owe this totally delightful but unexpected visit?

Blackmail, indiscreet letters?

I want to look at a will.

I don't know where you go and what you do, but there is some way you can pay a shilling, isn't there?

Well, the Somerset House.

I wanted to look at a will of a Mr Savage.

Mr John Savage.

Well, that is extraordinary.

I really don't know what to do.

Perhaps if you could give me your reasons.

Oh, no.

No, I'm afraid I can't.

Lady Frances, I really believe I ought to warn you.

Warn me?

There's something afoot.

Either something is afoot or we have to accept the most incredible coincidence.

And as a legal man, I have difficulty with the coincidence.

I have been impersonated, Lady Frances.

What do you say to that?

How did you find out?

You know something of this business?

Yes.

I'm afraid I do.

Oh.

This is all my fault.

It... it was just a joke.

We... we... wanted something to do.

And who had the idea of passing himself off as me?

Room number six, Mr Spragge.

Thank you.

Mr Spragge, it wasn't just anyone passing themselves off as you.

Actually, it was the young duke of... SHE CHUCKLES No.

No, I mustn't mention any names.

It just wouldn't be fair.

Oh, you bright young people, what troubles you land yourselves in.

High spirits can sometimes lead to complications that can be extremely difficult to settle out of court.

I feel terribly ashamed.

I suppose it was Mrs Rivington who gave us away.

Oh, dear, what exactly did she tell you?

'Dear Mr Spragge, it's really too stupid of me, 'but I've just remembered something 'that might have helped you the day you called on me.

'Alan Carstairs mentioned that he was going 'to a place called Chipping... Chipping Somerton.

'I don't know if this will be of any help to you.

'I was so interested in what you told me 'about the Maltravers case.

'Yours sincerely, Edith Rivington.'

You can see now why I took it that some extremely questionable business was afoot, whether connected with the Maltravers case or with my client Mr Carstairs.

Alan Carstairs... ..was a client of yours?

He consulted me.

Yes.

Do you know the gentleman?

He came to see you about Mr Savage's will, didn't he?

I gave him my opinion that nothing could be done about the will unless Mr Savage's relatives, neither close, two second cousins living in Australia, were prepared to contest it.

But undue influence is incredibly difficult to prove.

Undue influence?

Mr Savage was a hard-headed businessman, but he was clearly as wax in this woman's hand.

Oh, that woman.

Alan got so... so heated about her, I never fully understood what had gone on.

Ocean trips are notoriously dangerous, and middle-age bachelors, pretty women, husband prepared to stay tactfully in the background, fatal combination.

And by all accounts, this Mrs Templeton was particularly good-looking.

Certainly Mr Savage found her so attractive that he accepted her invitation to go down and stay at her cottage at Chipping Somerton.

Well, there's no doubt he came more and more under the influence.

And then came the tragedy.

Mr Savage feared that he may be suffering from... ..well... certain disease.

Cancer.

Subject became an obsession.

The Templetons persuaded him to go up to London and consult a specialist.

This he did.

Here, Lady Frances, I preserved an open mind.

But that specialist, who was a distinguished man, swore at the inquest that Mr Savage was not suffering from cancer, that he told him so, but that he was so obsessed by his own belief that he refused to accept the truth of it.

So what do you think happened, Mr Spragge?

Well, it seems likely that Mr Savage may have thought the doctor's reassuring words were not true, but what is known is that he came back to Chipping Somerton in a state of great mental distress.

He sent for a solicitor, reputable, local man, who there and then drew up a will which Mr Savage signed and delivered over to the solicitor for safekeeping.

Later that same evening, Mr Savage took a large overdose of chloro... ..leaving a letter behind in which he explained he preferred a quick, painless death to a long, painful one.

The jury brought in their usual sympathetic verdict of suicide while of unsound mind.

Poor man.

That, Lady Frances, is one thing he was not.

By his will, he left a generous sum to various charities and the sum of £700,000 free of legacy duty to Mrs Templeton.

£700,000?

That, if I may say so, was Mr Carstairs' reaction.

His contention was that the will was completely uncharacteristic of Mr Savage, who had no liking for organised charities and strong views as to money passing through blood relationship.

I had to tell him the possession was nine points of the law, and Mrs Templeton already had possession.

And no-one knows anything at all about her?

Went to live in the south of France and refused to enter into any communication over the matter.

Well, with £700,000, who can blame her?

Mr Spragge, you've been wonderful.

Simply wonderful.

I feel touchant.

You bright young people, you should be more careful.

You've been an angel.

Young duke?

Miss, er... Miss Cook, bring me in Burke's Peerage, will you?

Going out this time of night, sir?

A spot of fresh air on the bike before turning in, you know.

I don't sleep too well.

You look out for potholes, sir.

Young George Chaplin came off his bike last week just outside the greengrocer's.

Nasty mess.

I'll be careful.

Don't worry.

Sylvia.

BELL GONGING HE COUGHS HE SIGHS A nightcap, George?

No, thanks.

Early start tomorrow.

Bad news?

From Roger Bassington-ffrench.

The inquest is the day after tomorrow.

He wants me to go down.

Sorry.

BRANCH SNAPS Bond?

Bond?

Something's around.

Go get the wretched detector on.

DOGS BARKING BOND: Nothing this way.

Only the lemon and that cedar tree down.

MAN: Gate's been left open.

Nothing else.

All right, this seems clear.

All clear this way.

That's the trouble with working with loonies.

You end up hearing things.

MEN LAUGHING Bobby's disappeared.

Your friend Bobby Jones, alias Hawkins?

- And Moira's vanished.

- Moira.

We're sure Nicholson knows where she is.

Bobby thought it would be easier to keep an eye on the Grange from a hotel in Ambledever.

He registered on Wednesday evening.

I sent him a wire to say that I'd look in on him on the way down to the inquest, and the wire was there, he wasn't.

Landlord said he'd gone out for a breath of fresh air that first night and hasn't been seen since.

Then perhaps he was on the trail of something, you know, moved on, didn't have time to explain.

Leaving all his things behind?

Did you bring them with you?

I didn't think.

Should I have?

Well, there might have been something.

Some clue.

You think I'm silly to worry.

No, I don't think you're silly.

I don't like the sound of it either.

You asked me to let you know when the coroner arrives.

Yes, thank you, Ross.

We'd better get through.

Suicide while of unsound mind.

You don't think it was.

Do you?

I think we were most fortunate to have Dr Davidson as coroner.

He was both tactful and considerate.

Everything went off perfectly.

Almost too perfectly, wouldn't you say?

Like a good stage performance.

I think I know how Lady Frances feels.

My brother was murdered, Dr Nicholson.

I mean it.

The law may not regard it as such, but murder it was.

Whoever induced my brother to become a slave to that drug murdered him.

As surely as if they'd struck him down.

To induce a man to take drugs is indeed a most terrible crime.

You came down by car, Lady Frances?

No accidents this time, I hope.

No.

No, I think it's a pity to go in too much for accidents, don't you?

Perhaps your chauffeur drove you.

My chauffeur has disappeared.

Indeed.

He was last seen heading for the Grange.

Perhaps you've been paying too much attention to the local gossip, Lady Frances.

I myself have heard the wildest stories.

For instance, that my wife and your chauffeur have been seen talking together down by the lake.

Haven't you heard from your wife yet?

Not yet, Lady Frances.

Aren't you at all worried about her?

Not as much as you seem to be about the disappearance of your chauffeur.

Frankie, these just came for you.

Thank you for coming.

Are you sure you are all right?

Oh, I'm fine.

But how I would have managed without Jasper, I just don't know.

Though everyone's been most wonderfully kind.

- I really must be going now.

- Of course.

DR NICHOLSON: Thank you, Sylvia.

Excuse me.

FRANKIE: 'Dear Frankie, I'm on the trail at last.

'Follow me as soon as possible to Chipping Somerton.

'You better come by train and not by car.

'The Bentley's too noticeable.

'You are to come to a house called Tudor Cottage.

'I'll lay out the directions for finding it below.

'Don't tell anyone where you're going 'because the deeper we get into this, 'the more sure I am 'there is no-one at Staverley we can trust.

'No-one.

'I know it's grim, but you've got to believe me.

'Yours ever, Bobby.'

Interesting?

SHE CHUCKLES Not really.

You'll stay to lunch?

I must be off.

I've hardly seen you.

There will be other times.

Oh, Roger, would you do me a favour?

The Bentley's making a funny tick-ticking noise, and I can't possibly cope with it breaking down on my own.

Would you mind if I left it here?

No, not in the least.

Providing you let me drive you to the station.

And don't worry too much about Bobby.

Perhaps he's gone to London.

BOBBY: 'Turn right out of the station 'away from the village.

'This is the track that will take you to the cottage.'

TRAIN CHUGGING 'When you can see the cottage, hoot like an owl twice.

'I'll be waiting.'

SHE HOOTS DOOR OPENS Bobby.

MUFFLED SCREAMING FRANKIE GROANS BOBBY: Frankie.

Frankie.

Bobby.

HE GRUNTS Come.

Oh, Frankie.

Oh, we'd been had for mugs, haven't we?

How did they get you?

Was it after you wrote that letter?

What letter?

You know, telling me how to get here.

I never wrote you a letter.

Frankie, you didn't.

Oh, but I did.

Oh.

Honestly, it sounded exactly like you.

Even used the word grim.

Grim?

What's that got to do with it?

Well, you're always using it.

No, I'm not.

Even all that about not telling a soul made a ghastly sort of sense.

Oh.

Oh, chloroform.

Always did make me feel sick.

Chloroform?

Is how they got me.

How did they get you?

Well, I wanted to have a look at the Grange after dark to try to find Moira.

I nearly brought it off too when somebody must have crept up behind me and given me the most tremendous wallop.

I went down like a light.

Nicholson, I'll bet.

sort of underhand thing he would do.

No, no, it couldn't have been Nicholson.

I'd heard him calling from the house only a few seconds before.

Whenever we think it's him, he's always somewhere else.

Anyway, whoever it was, why just knock me out?

Wouldn't it have been terribly easy to finish me off?

I didn't think Nicholson would stick anything like that.

Same reason as before.

They got to make it look like an accident.

You don't mean they're gonna have another go at me?

What day is it?

Friday.

I was knocked out on Wednesday...

Dash it all, I've been well unconscious for two and a half days.

I wonder how much morphia they used this time.

Oh, don't start that again.

I must be pretty well pumped full of the stuff by now.

Frankie, you don't think I'm going to end up like poor old Henry, do you?

Look, I think there's every possibility we're both going to end up like poor old Henry, dead.

HE SIGHS Too bad I won't be able to use all that information I got from Mr Spragge.

The real Mr Spragge?

He told me John Savage committed suicide, having made a new will leaving £700,000 to a woman he met on board ship.

A Mrs Emily Templeton married to Edgar Templeton of Tudor Cottage, Chipping Somerton.

- Here.

- Here.

By jov.

You think it's the Templetons who've got us?

Apparently they are in the south of France enjoying her ill-gotten gains.

Ah.

And, er... Moira?

She's still missing.

If that brute has laid a finger on her... Frankie, we've got to get out of here for her sake.

I'd quite like to get out of here for my own.

Ooh.

Let's see if I can undo your hands with my teeth.

Oh.

That was me.

Oh, sorry.

No.

No, not making the slightest impression.

Yes, it's loosening.

It's loosening.

DISTANT CLATTERING FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING DOOR OPENS Unworthy of you, my dear young lady, to fall into such an easy little trap.

I knew it was you.

I have made your suspicions very obvious.

Possibly a little too obvious, just so you know.

But anyway, let me see if you're still comfortable.

Up we go.

There now.

I trust you won't find this too intolerable, but it will only be for a very short while.

What are you going to do to us?

You taunted me, Lady Frances.

We've been too fond of accidents.

Maybe I am.

At any rate, I am going to risk one more accident.

Lady Frances Derwent, her chauffeur beside her, mistake a turning and turned into a disused road leading to a quarry.

The car crashes over the edge.

Lady Frances and her chauffeur are killed.

Oh, and just to add credibility to the event, it will be made to look as if Lady Frances had most certainly been doing the driving.

You.

You can't count on us being killed outright.

Oh, I promise you, both you and Lady Frances will both be quite dead when your bodies are discovered.

You're making a big mistake, you know, especially where Lady Frances is concerned.

Yes.

Yes, in that very clever letter you forged, you told me to tell nobody.

Well, it just so happens I made an exception.

I told Roger Bassington-ffrench.

And if anything happens to us, he will know who's responsible.

A very good bluff.

But I'll call it.

What about Moira?

Your wife, you swine?

Have you murdered her too?

Moira is still alive.

How much longer she will remain alive...

..I really don't know.

You know what annoys me most about this business?

What?

Being hurled into the next world without knowing who Evans is.

Well, why didn't you ask him?

You know, sort of last-minute boon.

He can't refuse to tell us now.

Not while we're going to die.

Oh, my God.

What?

That man isn't Nicholson.

Frankie?

When I told him Roger knew about the letter, he gripped the candle a little more tightly, and the light fell on his face.

Yes, I can see it now.

It should have had a scratch on it, and it didn't.

One of Nicholson's patients scratched him at the Grange when I was asking about Moira.

That man had no mark on him at all.

Who is it, then?

There's only one person it can be.

Roger.

Are you sure?

He was the only other person in the room when I taunted Nicholson about the accidents.

Frankie... you know what this means?

It really is all up with us now.

Moira is a prisoner.

You and I are bound hand and foot.

Nobody else has the least idea where we are.

BADGER GROANS - Bo... Bo... Bo... Bobby.

- Badger.

Badger, I can't begin to tell you.

Quick, Badger, pull off my shoes.

- Bu... Bu... Bu... Don't try to talk, you fool, just haul it off anyhow.

Chuck it down there in the middle of all that glass.

Get under the bed, Badger, quickly.

DOOR OPENS Very clever.

Extremely acrobatic.

How did you manage that then, I wonder?

Perhaps these ropes should be a little bit tighter.

BOBBY: Perhaps they should.

BOBBY GROANS Houdini, I believe, saw these sort of things as a challenge.

I do hope you won't be so foolish as to make that sort of mistake.

I'm sorry if it's a little draughty now.

You'll have to blame your enterprising chauffeur.

HE SNEEZES Quick, Badger.

That floor is filthy under there.

Have you got a knife?

I didn't exactly come prepared for this.

Be sharp and look.

There's a good chap.

Torch.

Hold that a second, would you?

- Oh.

Matches.

We could burn them, I suppose.

Oh, come on, Badger.

Penknife.

- No, no, no, ladies first.

- Sorry.

Badger, whatever rotten things I've said about you in the past, I'm well and truly sorry.

Oh, I think my thumbs are gonna drop off.

Well, did you get a good look at him?

Yes, you're absolutely right.

No scratches, I can see now.

All the same, I have to admit it's a pretty good performance.

I've got cramp.

Oh, how we could ever have thought it was Nicholson?

What?

Who is what?

A charming friend who's just gone out.

I actually thought he was somebody else.

But that was... that was Roger Bassington-ffrench, didn't you know?

We know now, but how did you know?

Well, I went to Oxford with him.

Oh, it's the chloroform.

I'm still dreaming.

M-Marvellous actor, but, er, bad hat, though.

Bad business about forging his pater's name on a cheque.

Old man hushed it up.

He was a year or two ahead of me, of course, but I recognised him anyway.

Why didn't you tell us you knew him?

You never asked me.

Come to think of it, you've never mentioned his name and point the fact you've been jolly secretive about the whole... Look, what I want to know is what miracle brought you through the skylight?

Shh!

Keep your voices down.

You see, after you went off, I got into a bit of a mess.

I couldn't pay the bills, so I came to find you to see if you'd lend me a fiver.

Oh, Badger.

Badger, if we ever get out of this, I'll get Father to give you as many fivers as you want.

Well, that's not what friends are for.

But how did you find us?

By being jolly cunning, that's how.

All you told me was Staverley, so I looked it up on the map.

I reckoned if I couldn't find you, I'd certainly find the Bentley, and I did.

But I left it at Merroway Court.

I f-f-found it before I got to, er, S-S-Staverley actually outside the, er... - Station Hotel.

That's right.

A village called... Ambledever.

How did you know that?

Because that's where I was staying.

Well, that's what I thought.

Anyway, there were some things, rags and things, in the back of the car, nobody about, so I got in.

And I-I-I pulled the rags over me, and I was about to give you a surprise of your life when you came out.

- I did.

Well, the bloke I thought was you.

He was wearing your chauffeur's uniform.

He had a cap jammed down over his head.

He was wearing a moustache.

Oh, he must have got it out of my room at the Station Hotel.

Well, he got into the car and drove off.

I was just about to spring out and say, "Got you," when I realised it wasn't you at all.

Roger again.

I'm sorry I told him everything.

Where you were staying, that all your things were still there.

It's all my fault.

But I was so worried about you.

Were you really?

Desperately.

Don't you wanna know what happened next?

- Yes.

- Oh, yes, of course.

Well, finally, we arrived here, he drove the Bentley into the garage.

There was a little window, though, and I saw you arrive.

I thought you'd come to rescue me, actually.

Well, then the chauffeur fellow grabbed you.

Well, I'm not a complete fool.

I knew something was wrong, but all the downstairs windows are shattered.

So then I scaled the drainpipe and, er, found a bat, and then I...

I slipped.

Well, but for you, Badger, my lad, Frankie and I would have been corpses in about an hour's time.

Well, now that I've arrived in the nick of time, what do we do next?

There's only one thing we can do.

Ready, Lady Frances?

Got you.

MEN GRUNTING Good evening, Mr Bassington-ffrench.

Well, I'll be... You will be if I have anything to do with it.

Quick, Badger, get him on the bed!

All right, all right.

There's really no need for all this.

There certainly is.

And apart from anything else, it's your turn to find out how jolly uncomfortable it is.

How could you?

Sorry.

You forged that letter from Bobby, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

Another of my talents.

And Bobby?

Bobby, Bobby was easy.

I got him neatly on the back of the neck with the sandbag, didn't I?

All I had to do was drag him out to where my car was waiting, shove him in the dig, and drive him down here.

I was back at Merroway the next morning in time to console the grieving widow.

Why did you pretend to be Nicholson?

Erm, why did I now?

Partly, I think, fun, seeing if I could spoof you both.

You were so absolutely certain he was in it up to the neck.

You mean he's totally innocent?

As a child unborn, but he did draw my attention to that car accident of yours.

Made me realise you mightn't be quite the innocent young thing you seemed to be.

There's something you've got to tell me.

Got to?

No point in not telling me now.

And it's been driving me mad with curiosity.

Who is Evans?

HE LAUGHS You don't know?

You really don't know?

That is very amusing.

ROGER CONTINUES LAUGHING It just goes to show what a fool one can be.

Meaning us?

No, no, no, meaning me.

Do you know if you don't know who Evans is...

..I don't think I'm going to tell you.

Roger.

So, what are you going to do with me?

The police, of course.

Quite right, yes.

Ring them up, hand me over.

The charge will be abduction, I suppose.

I shall plead a guilty passion.

What about murder?

Murder?

My dear, you haven't a scrap of evidence.

Badger, I think we better go and ring the police.

Hey, what about... what about...

He'll be all right.

I can lock the door.

How terribly distrustful of you.

By the way, there's a pistol in my pocket if you'd like it.

It's yours, actually.

Do be careful, won't you?

It's loaded.

Right.

I'll go first.

Frankie...

I think you better keep between us.

Frankie... straighten my collar for me, would you?

One likes to look one's best when meeting the constabulary.

Thank you so very much.

All right, now quietly.

We must be quite sure and not make a mess of things now.

He's a queer chap, isn't he?

Damn good loser.

We better check this room first.

We don't want to be taken in the rear.

Look.

FRANKIE: It's Moira.

She... - She's still breathing.

- Oh.

Only just.

She's been drugged.

Morphine again, I shouldn't wonder.

We better get a doctor.

- Frankie.

Frankie, wait.

Look, she's your friend.

Do you want her saved or don't you?

Probably cut the wires.

Oh, good.

Doctor first, police second.

No, police first, they'll bring a doctor.

Here, let me.

It's men like you who stopped women getting the vote.

- Operator!

Operator!

Come on.

- I know it's heartless of me, but I'm going to see if there's something to eat.

Come on, Badger.

HE SIGHS Police station, this is an emergency.

Not a sausage.

Not even the wherewithal to make a cup of tea.

I don't believe anyone's lived here for months.

KNOCKING AT DOOR MAN: Open up in the name of the law.

I never believed they really said that.

Now what's all this about now?

And where's my patient?

Please, doctor, this way.

Just one moment.

Could I have your name, please?

I'm Lady Frances Derwent.

My father is the earl of Marchington.

Oh, yeah.

Now, please, will you come on?

I suppose your father's the archbishop of Canterbury then, sir?

Oh no, no, the vicar of St Stephens, actually.

My name is Bobby Jones, and this is Badger Beadon.

And upstairs is a dangerous criminal.

Upstairs, sir?

Yes, we've got him tied up, actually.

He can't escape.

This way, please.

Oh, do hurry.

It's morphine, all right.

I better get her into a nursing home right away.

He's in there.

DOOR RATTLES, CONSTABLE GRUNTS Oh.

Sorry.

Here you are.

Well, sir.

Ah, there you are.

Don't be so horribly vigorous.

HE CHUCKLES Where's Badger?

Still asleep.

A chambermaid unsuccessfully called him four times already.

Even in London, he has great difficulty in waking before twelve.

Perhaps you should try running an all-night garage.

Oh, how can you?

Must be the sandbagging.

Probably broken up adhesions in the brain.

Oh, have you phoned the nursing home?

Oh, yes.

Now, apparently, Moira has gone to London, to a nursing home place in Queen's Gate.

Said she'll feel safer there.

She never did have much nerve.

Well, anyone might be scared with a cold-blooded murderer like Roger Bassington-ffrench loose in the neighbourhood.

He doesn't want to murder her, we're the ones he's after.

Toast and mint tea for one.

And more toast for you, sir.

Ah.

Thank you.

Why do you bring out the maternal in everyone except me?

Oh.

By the way, what do you make of this?

- Where did you find it?

- Last night at the cottage.

It had slipped behind the telephone.

Mr Cayman?

Excuse me.

- Yes.

Do you know who that is?

Mm, no.

Erm, well, I've seen the gentleman before, but I can't quite call to mind.

Oh, yes.

It's the gentleman who had Tudor Cottage, Mr Templeton.

They're gone away now, somewhere abroad, I believe.

£700,000.

No wonder they had to get Alan Carstairs out of the way.

The start of the whole thing must be John Savage's death.

I still have the notes I made after looking at his will.

- Oh.

- The witnesses were... ..Rose Chudleigh, cook, and Albeit Mere, gardener.

They shouldn't be too difficult to find.

And then there were the lawyers, Elford and Leigh.

Very respectable local firm, Mr Spragge said.

- Right.

But, Rose, you were there when Mr Savage died, weren't you?

Who, ma'am?

The gentleman from Tudor Cottage, Mr Savage.

You were there when he died?

Who?

The man who left Mrs Templeton all his money.

Oh, him.

The man there was the inquest on.

You remember, Fred?

- That's right.

Used to come and stay quite often, didn't he?

Oh, as for that, I couldn't say, ma'am.

I'd only been there a few weeks.

Oh, I thought you were there much longer than that.

No, that'd be Gladys.

Gladys?

She was house parlourmaid.

She was there about six months.

And there was just the two of you?

Yes.

She was house parlourmaid, I was the cook.

And you witnessed Mr Savage's will?

Yes.

Me and Albert Mere, the gardener.

I've never done anything like it before, and I didn't like it, I can tell you.

What happened exactly?

I beg your pardon, sir?

Who called you in to sign your name?

Mrs Templeton, ma'am.

She came down to the kitchen and said I was to go outside and get Albert, and we was both to go upstairs, and there was the poor gentleman sitting up in bed.

I'd never seen it before, but he looked ghastly.

I said so to you, Fred, didn't I?

But Mr Elford said it was quite all right.

There was nothing to worry about.

Just to sign my name where he signed his, which I did, and put cook after it and the address, and Albert did the same.

And I went down to Gladys in the kitchen.

All of a tremble.

I had never seen a man look so like death.

And Gladys said he'd looked all right the night before.

Must have been something in London that upset him.

He got up to London early that morning, see, before anyone was up.

And he died when?

The very next day, as ever is.

He shut himself up in his room that night, and when Gladys went up to call him in the morning, he was stiff and dead and a note by his bed.

"To the coroner," it said.

Well, then there was the inquest and everything, and Mrs Templeton went abroad, and she got me a very nice place up north to live.

Nice lady, Mrs Templeton.

Pretty too.

Thank you, Mrs Pratt.

Good afternoon to you, miss.

And to your young gentleman.

And I hope you'll both be as happy as what me and Fred is.

I'll catch you up.

Mrs Pratt, there was just one other thing.

I found him.

Pity he can't talk.

Why?

He might have told us the answer to the one thing that's still puzzling me.

Why Mrs Templeton send for the gardener to witness the will when the house parlourmaid was there all the time?

Why didn't they ask the parlourmaid?

It's odd you're saying that.

Why?

Because that's why I went back to ask Gladys' name and address.

Well?

The parlourmaid's name was Evans.

You've just asked the same question the poor old Alan Carstairs asked after he was pushed off the cliff.

Why didn't they ask the parlourmaid?

Why didn't they ask Evans?

Bobby, we're getting there at last.

Carstairs must have been nosing around just as we are looking for something fishy, and the same point struck him too.

That's why he went to Wales.

Gladys Evans is a Welsh name.

Evans was probably a Welsh girl.

He was following her.

Someone was following him.

And so he never got to her.

All right.

So why didn't they ask Evans?

With a couple of female staff in the house, why send for the gardener?

Perhaps because both Rose and Albert were chumps.

Bobby.

Sorry I was.

Whereas Evans may have been rather a sharp girl.

It can't only be that.

Mr Elford was there too, and he's shrewd enough.

Oh, the answer is so close.

Evans.

Why Rose and Albert and not Evans?

I'm getting it.

Just a sort of flicker.

Bobby.

If you're in a house with two servants, which do you tip?

The house parlourmaid.

One never tips the cook.

One never sees her, for one thing.

No.

And she never sees you.

What are you getting at?

They couldn't ask Evans to witness that will because she would have seen the man making it wasn't Savage.

Well, who was it then?

Three guesses.

Not Roger Basington-ffrench again.

Don't you see, Roger impersonated Savage.

I bet it was Roger who went to that doctor and made all that fuss about having cancer.

Remember Mrs Pratt said he left early that morning before anyone was awake?

I bet poor Mr Savage never left the house at all.

They probably drugged him, kept him in that foul garage they shut us up in while Roger did his impersonation stunt.

As soon as the will is signed... ..they popped Savage back into his own bed, gave him an overdose of chloral, and Evans finds him dead in the morning.

I do believe you've hit it, Frankie.

But how do we prove it?

- I don't know.

Yet.

But an expert should be able to detect that that signature is a forgery.

They didn't before.

Ah, because nobody raised a question.

One thing is certain, we've got to find Evans.

She may be able to tell us a lot.

Where are we going?

The post office.

Oh.

ALL CHUCKLING Two shilling book of stamps, please.

Two shillings, is it?

There we are, my dear.

Thank you.

Lovely day, isn't it?

For those that has time to enjoy it.

I expect you get much better weather here than we get in our part of the country.

I come from Wales.

You wouldn't believe the rain in Wales.

Oh, we get a fair bit of weather here ourselves.

Yesterday now, very nasty day yesterday.

What part of Wales are you from?

Marchbolt.

Do you know, now I come to mention it, we have someone there who comes from this part of the world.

Her name is Evans.

Gladys Evans.

- Gladys Evans?

- Yes.

She was in service at Tudor Cottage.

But she wasn't a local girl.

Came from Wales.

Went back there too to get married.

ALL CHUCKLING Roberts her name is now.

I say, you wouldn't have her address?

I borrowed a raincoat from her and forgot to give it back.

Now if I had her address, I could post it to her.

Of course I know her address.

Sends me a postcard now and again.

She and her husband have gone into service together.

SHE CHUCKLES Oh, now where did I put it?

Oh.

Ah, here it is.

"Mrs Roberts, the Vicarage, Marchbolt."

Thank you.

Thank you.

There she was at the Vicarage all the time.

Looking after Father and me.

Now you can see how dangerous it was from their point of view.

You and Evans were actually under the same roof.

With Roger at large, it's still dangerous.

That's it.

Back to Marchbolt.

Dash it all, you might awaken the chap.

Do you know what time it is?

Do you?

There you were rotting in bed.

Well, I was feeling a bit rough, that's all.

Well, you'll be feeling a lot rougher by the time I finish with you, my lad.

I've been giving a lot of serious thought to you.

I'm going to get Father to clear your debts, buy that garage, and put you in as manager.

I say.

How s-s-spiffy.

On one condition.

That you make that Bentley go like a bat out of hell and get us back in Marchbolt in record time.

Why?

Why... why the hurry?

Because Roger Bassington-ffrench is still at large.

Because we finally found out who Evans is.

Because I have a feeling something awful is gonna happen if we don't.

Badger, you're simply not trying.

We go any faster, we'll take off.

That's it.

We're only seven miles from Medeshot.

There's an aerodrome there.

We can take an air taxi.

My dear girl.

That would be having a couple of hours.

Anything you say.

CAR HONKING Whatever is the matter with you?

Sorry, I just can't get into one of those things.

Why ever not?

Well, you can't just stop... S-S-Stop.

I mean, get out.

Oh, all right, you bring the Bentley.

Oh, and... Badger.

Yes, my dear.

Thank you.

Cheer up, Bobby.

Think of Mrs Roberts and Roger Bassington-ffrench.

Remember, we don't know where he is.

That's true.

Parker!

There's an outrage on the lawn.

Hello, Father.

Must dash.

Dammit, that was my daughter.

Come to think of it, that was my car.

HANDBRAKE CLICKS BOBBY: Looks quite enough.

What did you expect?

Royal artillery?

Come on.

Thank goodness you've come.

Moira.

I'm so glad to see you.

I didn't know what to do.

- What on earth brings you here?

The same thing that brought you.

You know who Evans is too?

- It's a long story.

- Come inside.

Oh, no, please, before we go inside, isn't there somewhere we could go?

A cafe that's safe?

I don't understand.

Why?

You'll understand when I tell you.

Oh, please, Bobby, do come.

If you don't, it may be too late.

You see, I couldn't bear staying where I was.

I told them I'd rather go to a nursing home I knew in London.

It wasn't true, of course.

I just wanted to get away by myself, where I wasn't known and nobody would know where to find me.

I got on the train.

Just as it was starting to move...

..I went along the corridor... - Moira?

- Oh, God.

- What is it?

- He's followed me.

- Who?

- Roger.

He's out there in the street with a woman with red hair.

Mrs Cayman.

Be careful.

Oh, please do be careful.

Oh, damn.

Now what do we do?

Has he gone?

Oh, he's dangerous, Bobby, horribly dangerous.

You are sure he was there?

Sure.

If you only knew how that man frightens me.

Do brace up, Moira, don't be such a rabbit.

BOBBY: Now look here, it's all right.

He can't do anything as long as we all stick together.

Now, sit down.

Drink your coffee.

Mm, who put sugar... Oops!

Sorry.

Very useful things, sugar bowls, don't you think?

Have you gone batty, Frankie?

What the devil are you doing?

Taking a sample of this coffee for George Arbuthnot to analyse.

It's no good, Moira, I was almost sure before, but then it came to me in a flash.

You put something in our coffee when you sent us out there looking for Roger.

The game's up, Mrs Nicholson, or do you prefer Templeton?

- Templeton.

- If she denies it, ask her to come to the Vicarage, and we'll see if Mrs Roberts can identify her.

You bitch.

Why do you think she wouldn't come to the Vicarage?

You interfering bitch.

I'll see you both damned in hell before I let you take what's mine.

Hell, you almost got me!

Let go of me!

It wasn't me, I tell you.

It was him!

Him!

Him!

MOIRA SCREAMING Spot of trouble, is there?

- Nice cup of tea, my lady.

- Thank you.

Vicar will be back later.

Thank you very much, Mrs Roberts.

Er, Evans.

Yes, will it...

However did you know?

We didn't.

It might have saved us an awful lot of bother if we had.

Well, Evans was my name before I married Roberts.

We went through a lot of trouble finding that out.

There's nothing wrong, is there, sir?

I mean, apart from this afternoon.

Mrs Roberts, erm, does the name Alan Carstairs mean anything to you?

Well, the gentleman wrote me the letter.

He wrote to you?

Yes, sir.

Wanted to see me, sir, about Mrs Templeton.

You see, I was in service with her before I come here with Roberts.

Mr Carstairs said, "Did I know she was a dangerous international criminal "wanted by the police?"

He arranged to meet me on my afternoon off, it would have been.

But then he never turned up, so I forgot all about it.

My Mrs Templeton could never be anything so wicked.

Very nice young lady.

Well, it was your Mrs Templeton who took a potshot at us just now in the Orient Cafe.

Never.

Mrs Roberts, when Alan Carstairs didn't turn up but a body did, didn't that strike you as odd?

The man at the bottom of the cliff was called Pritchard.

Why should a man called Pritchard be a man called Carstairs, I ask you?

And then those people that came and identified him.

The Caymans.

Yes, well, believe it or not, Mr Cayman was your ex-employer, Mr Templeton.

I said to Roberts I'd seen a man reminding me of Mr Templeton.

Nearly knocked me down, he did, in the village.

Small world, isn't it?

No proper use, too, at Marchbolt.

No.

No, it's not, is it?

Still, no harm done, eh?

SHE CHUCKLES Three people dead and no harm done.

Oh, fair play, Frankie.

We weren't all that bright ourselves.

I thought I did jolly well considering I had no idea what was going on in the first place.

The person I feel sorry for is Sylvia.

Moira will obviously drag Roger into it and there'll be an awful lot of publicity.

This came for you, my lady.

FRANKIE: 'Frankie, Tommy and I need your help.

'Desperate circumstances.

'We'll be at Merroway tonight only.

'Please come.

'Sylvia.'

Sylvia.

I'm so glad you could come.

That tender heart of yours will be the undoing of you, Frankie.

You never can resist an appeal for help, can you?

And before you start worrying, Sylvia and Tommy are quite safe.

They're both in California with Dr Nicholson.

They may even make a match of it.

Would be nice if there were at least one happy ending, don't you think?

Won't you sit down now that you're here?

I don't have to tie you up this time, do I?

I take it I can't get away?

The windows are shuttered and padlocked.

The key's in my pocket.

This time, there's no convenient skylight in the roof.

Unopened, nothing up my sleeves.

No morphia, no chloroform.

Makes a change.

ROGER CHUCKLES Everyone thought you'd fled the country.

That's what they were meant to think.

But it really would have been too stupid to try and escape while the hunt was on.

No, actually, I spent a couple of very interesting afternoons in the public gallery at the Old Bailey watching Moira's trial.

Fascinating, wasn't it?

CORK POPS Would you like to know the truth about Moira?

Moira was an accomplished criminal by the time she was 15.

If you hadn't stopped her, helpless little Moira might have ended up running the biggest drug ring in the Western Hemisphere.

With you to help?

A man must have some ambition.

You were in love with her.

Well, perhaps I thought I was for a time.

I was attracted by her.

Enormously.

We met in America.

Things were getting a little too hot for her here.

Well, and for me, actually.

So we decided to move the entire operation over here.

That's why we married her off to Dr Nicholson.

- Married her off?

- Mm.

Nicholson offered her a new name, a new country, a new identity, and perfect cover.

A clinic where they cure drug addicts.

It didn't worry you at all the effect you'd be having on innocent lives?

My dear Frankie, I truly believe that every man has the right to go to hell in any way he chooses.

Like your brother, you mean.

Like Henry.

Just as you didn't like Moira...

..I didn't like Henry.

He was a fool.

He didn't care about Merroway.

I do care.

I love it.

That time I thought I wanted only two things, Merroway and the money to run it in the way it deserved to be run.

And to restore it to its former glory.

I nearly got both.

You stopped me.

But not in time.

My dear Frankie, it's merely an acceleration of the natural process.

You're a monster.

Not cold, are you?

I wouldn't like you to freeze to death.

You were quite prepared to tip me into a quarry.

Oh, but I shouldn't have enjoyed it.

Did you enjoy killing John Savage?

Savage was the goose that laid the golden egg.

Moira found him and set him up.

She was travelling as Mrs Templeton at the time.

Well, you know how romantic boat trips can be.

Savage wrote a letter enclosing a photograph of his beloved and sent it to his friend Alan Carstairs.

Who you pushed off a cliff in Wales.

Do wish you could have seen me as Savage.

I was superb.

The plot may have been Moira's, but the performance was all mine.

And Savage did die quite quickly, I promise you.

Mrs Templeton conveniently disappeared abroad with the loot so that Moira could reappear at the Grange to be welcomed home by her doting and totally unsuspecting husband.

How psychiatrists could ever trust a woman, I shall never understand.

Having forged your way into £700,000, why didn't you take the loot while you were about it?

Far too suspicious.

No, the charity touch was my idea.

Sounded so respectable, sort of unfishy.

Yet it was the charity touch, as you called it, that made Alan Carstairs so suspicious.

Well, yes.

That and the most appalling piece of luck.

Some friends brought him down here for lunch.

He saw this picture of Moira.

Recognised it at once as the woman in the photograph that Savage had sent to him.

The trouble with Moira, once seen, never forgotten.

Then he followed the trail to Chipping Somerton, and then, like you, to Marchbolt.

And ended up with a broken back.

Not like you.

Do you realise if your friend Bobby had been an even tolerably competent golfer, you and I wouldn't be chatting here now?

'Alan Carstairs would have died anyway.

'His body would have been washed out to sea, 'and no-one would have been any the wiser.

'I must say it was a bit of a blow 'when I realised he hadn't been killed outright.

'I was in the most frightful dilemma.

'It was just as well Bobby had to go herring 'back to evensong.

'Gave me just time to remove the photograph of Moira 'and plant one of Amelia Cayman in its place.'

We thought we were home and dry.

Then Bobby rocked the boat.

Why didn't they ask Evans?

Bobby knew about Evans, but he didn't know that Evans was at the Vicarage.

Well, we couldn't afford that link to be made.

So Moira drove down to Marchbolt in Nicholson's green Talbot, popped an awful lot of morphia into Bobby's beer and thought that that was that.

When she came face to face with him in the grounds of the Grange, she was so genuinely surprised, she nearly passed out.

Still, she put Bobby off the trail jolly well.

I thought.

Didn't you?

Oh, Frankie.

Merroway would have been a perfect setting for you.

Merroway wasn't yours.

No, but it would have been.

There were just two people in the way.

Henry and Tommy.

- A little boy.

A little boy who liked you, trusted you.

I wasn't going to hurt him.

Only kill him.

I wanted Merroway to have an heir.

My heir.

You're mad.

I wouldn't say that if I were you.

Anyway, before I decided what to do about Henry, Henry decided for me.

He fell off his horse.

HE CHUCKLES Always was a rotten rider.

He had a lot of pain, so I introduced him to morphia.

Before long, he was an addict.

Our plan was to get him to the Grange as a patient.

Once there, Moira would organise his suicide or an overdose.

I wouldn't be connected in any way.

Then you and your friend Bobby got suspicious.

So, exit Henry.

He didn't kill himself.

No, of course he didn't.

But you were with me and Sylvia in the conservatory.

Brilliant improvisation, my dear Frankie.

Sylvia was insisting that Henry should go to the Grange, remember?

'I said I'd come back into the house 'and telephone once more.

'Of course, I didn't telephone.

'I came straight to the study.

'Henry was sitting at his desk.

'I said, "Look here, old man," and shot him.'

We would have heard the shot.

No, there was an aeroplane going overhead, don't you remember?

I was immensely grateful to it, otherwise, I should have had to spin some awful yarn about bursting into the study a second too late, and there wouldn't have been that lovely suicide note.

'Forging that was easy.

'Henry's hand had been trembling so much 'for the past few months.

'No-one would have remembered what his writing looked like.

'Then I wiped my fingerprints off the gun, 'pressed Henry's hand around it.

'I put the key of the study in Henry's pocket, 'and I went out locking the door from the outside 'with the dining room key, which fits the lock.'

Then I rejoined you and Sylvia in the conservatory.

But you were with me when I heard the shot.

Yes, I was.

I placed a bullet in the fire.

It gave me just long enough to get back to you and Sylvia before it exploded.

I slipped back in here later and removed the evidence.

I really was quite pleased with the result.

The fact that Nicholson happened to come by just that moment was a bonus.

And you should have realised only a thoroughly innocent man could have behaved quite so suspiciously.

I'll remember next time.

Next time?

Of course, Bobby's night errantry wanting to rescue Moira from the clutches of her evil plotting husband was a bit difficult.

That's why Moira came off down to the cottage.

Jolly grateful I was to have her around too.

Mind you, you were splendid.

I really thought you had me that time.

How did you get away?

Moira, she knew from the noise upstairs that something had gone wrong.

She was drugged.

She injected herself with a large dose of morphia, knowing it wouldn't take immediate effect.

'Then while you were phoning the police, 'she slipped upstairs and got me free.'

FRANKIE: 'But Bobby had locked the door.'

ROGER: 'One door was locked, but there are two.

'Looks like a cupboard, I know, but it isn't.

'The morphia began to take effect, 'and by the time the doctor arrived, 'she was genuinely off.'

Terribly unsubtle, all that stuff with the coffee, I know, but then she had to get you and Bobby out of the way, don't you see?

And then again... ..perhaps she knew how I was beginning to feel about you.

Why have you got me here?

Because...

..I couldn't bear the thought of life without you.

Without Merroway.

So, I thought, perhaps a fire.

We'd be found clasped in each other's arms in the smoking ruins of the ancestral home.

HE CHUCKLES It's all right.

I'm far too much of a coward and far too much of an optimist.

Now it's a fast car from here to the coast.

I thought I'd borrow the Bentley.

Channel crossing or, who knows, perhaps even an Atlantic one, only to reappear on another continent with a new identity and try to make good all over again.

Or should I say bad?

With your share of Savage's money?

No, no, Moira had kept that.

I was to get my share when I married her.

So here I am, you see?

No money.

No girl.

Your affectionate enemy.

The bold, bad villain of the piece.

Unless you come with me and make an honest man out of me.

Yes.

That's what I thought.

So, I'll just walk out of here, lock the door.

You're not going to leave me?

My dear Frankie, you won't come with me, so... ..it's goodbye.

You really were a splendid adversary.

You won't get away with this, you know.

Who's going to stop me?

I will, for one.

HE CHUCKLES If you ever get out.

I don't think so, do you?

Er... Sure you won't change your mind?

BOTTLE SHATTERS No.

I didn't think you would.

DOOR CLOSES You damn.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING No!

Bobby, what are you doing here?

Well, you sent for me.

I never did.

Oh, but I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you.

Oh, Bobby.

Bobby, let's get out of here.

I telephoned the castle, but nobody knew where you were.

Then I got this wire from you saying it was urgent, to come at once.

Frankie, are you all right?

Yes.

Yes.

Roger was here when I arrived.

What?

I'll tell you about it later.

Oh, but he really is a remarkable person.

Yes, well, I suppose you always had a fancy for him.

He had charm.

So did Moira.

Her face did sort of haunt me.

But then when we were in that attic together and you were so simply splendid about things, she... well, she just faded away.

You were so frightfully plucky.

BOTH LAUGH I wasn't feeling plucky.

But I did want you to admire me.

Oh, I did, darling.

I always have.

Is that all you're going to say?

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