[audio logo] [pleasant woodwind music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ CONGREGATION: ♪ Praise Him, praise Him ♪ ♪ Praise Him, praise Him ♪ ♪ Praise Him as the God of praise ♪ [coughing, pews creaking] The Gospel according to Saint Matthew, chapter 16, verse 4-- "A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign.

And there shall be no sign given unto it."

You're always looking for signs, aren't you?

You're looking for miracles.

Can't you believe in the goodness of God unless He entertains you with conjuring tricks?

No doubt God can perform miracles.

No doubt He can do jolly well everything.

But why should He?

Why should He?

Look up at the sky.

A red sky tonight means a fine day tomorrow.

Isn't that enough of a miracle for you?

"O, ye hypocrites!"

Jesus said, "Ye can discern the face of the sky.

But can ye not discern the signs of the times?"

[coughing] And I give thanks that I have been chosen.

May I be worthy of Your work and promote the true interests of Your Church.

Mr. Rumpole.

Morning, Henry.

- Just ticking you off, sir.

- Oh, really?

What have I done now?

No, no, no, no.

Mr. Ballard's instructions.

Time in and out of chambers has to be noted so that he can calculate how much of our facilities each of you gentlemen uses.

What?

Soapy Sam Ballard wants us clocking in and out?

Where's he gone to Earth this morning?

He's in his room, Mr. Rumpole.

Is he indeed?

He said he didn't want to be interrupted.

Well, he may have to be rudely interrupted.

[swift footsteps] RUMPOLE: (SHOUTING FROM CORRIDOR) Ballard!

Ever mindful of the fact that in these dark days, standards must be kept up.

I therefore ask you, O Lord-- What do you think this is, Ballard?

[BALLARD CONTINUES TO PRAY QUIETLY] Do you fancy yourself as the governor of some sort of high-security nick?

Perhaps you'd like to introduce slopping out while you sit in here and count the government-issued toilet paper?

What's the matter?

Dropped something, have you?

What, collar stand on the floor?

Well, don't imagine I'm going to crawl over your carpet and help you look for it.

- Amen.

Ah, Rumpole.

I was just giving thanks for a singular honor that has been done to me-- quite undeserved, of course.

Well, of course.

What honor?

[chuckles] I believe it is the first time in our long history, Rumpole, that these chambers have contained a chancellor.

Chancellor?

Yes, Rumpole, unworthy as I am.

Well, that's the understatement of the year.

The Prime Minister must have completely lost her marbles!

You, Ballard on the woolsack?

No, no, no.

Not the woolsack, Rumpole.

Of course I don't aspire to Lord Chancellor.

[chuckles] Yet a while.

No, I have been chosen to the post of Worshipful Chancellor of the Diocese of Lanchester.

I shall act, from time to time, as a judge in the ecclesiastical court.

Grand inquisitor, eh?

I wouldn't have anything to do with it if I were you.

It is a post open only to communicating members of the Church of England, Rumpole.

I doubt very much it would be offered to someone like you, oh, thou of little faith.

I happen to have a good deal of faith.

BALLARD: Oh, yes?

In what, precisely?

The health-giving properties of claret, the presumption of innocence, and not having to clock in to chambers in the morning!

Well, well.

Chancellor of the Diocese, eh?

Planning to burn anyone at the stake over the weekend, are you?

Try not to be frivolous, Rumpole.

Nowadays, the ecclesiastical court deals mainly with ritual and matters of church furnishings.

Ah, yes.

Smells and bells.

How many eagles can perch on a lectern?

That sort of paraphernalia.

Ah, don't you get a decent chance to unfrock a priest occasionally?

That painful duty has not been asked of the diocese, as I understand it, for at least 25 years.

Oh, you never know your luck.

[chuckles] Go to it, Ballard.

Rip the frocks off the clergy!

But leave God-fearing barristers alone.

[door slams] HILDA: Is that you, Rumpole?

Of course not.

It's the village blacksmith come to crown you Queen of the May.

HILDA: Have a good day, have you, dear?

RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Dear?

She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, calling me "dear?"

Can she be feeling quite well?

HILDA: What did you say, dear?

I said no, chambers is hell.

Shh!

That Soapy Sam's having-a-roll-of-Ballard has gone clean off his chump.

I caught him praying!

Probably asking for divine intervention to keep the electric light bills down.

Rumpole-- Isn't it odd?

The more they preach Christianity, the less Christian they become.

Oh, do be careful, Rumpole.

A priest might find that extremely upsetting.

Oh, I'm very sorry.

Have you taken holy orders?

I'm trying to tell you, Rumpole.

We have a visitor!

Oh!

Uncle Horace.

It's Timmy, Timmy Donkin.

Donkin?

You remember Rumpole, poor cousin Esme's boy?

He's quite a big shot in the cathedral.

They've made him a canon.

Was that a funny, Hilda?

Pleased to meet you.

I expect you're dying for some tea.

Timmy had to come up to London on business, Rumpole, so he thought he'd just drop in and see the family.

Oh?

What family?

This family.

[chuckles] There's not much of us to see, really.

As a matter of fact, it was you I wanted to talk to, Uncle Horace.

You're in trouble.

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Rumpole.

I told you, they've made him a canon in charge of ordinance.

Deep trouble.

What is it?

Fiddling the organ fund?

Pawning the candlesticks?

Choir boys?

Rumpole.

Nothing like that, Uncle Horace, I promise you.

I suppose it's best described as old-fashioned adultery.

Oh, well.

I've done that, of course-- not for a good many years now, unfortunately.

In the divorce court, Hilda, from time to time.

I'll go and make the tea.

RUMPOLE: Well, please sit down.

TIM DONKIN: Thank you.

RUMPOLE: Now, then.

Well, I'm a married man, Uncle Horace.

Well, of course.

It makes it easier to commit adultery if you're married, doesn't it?

[laughs] I remember Mother saying that Auntie Hilda had married a barrister with a sense of humor.

Ah, yes.

That has been the cross that she has had to bear.

My wife, Gertrude, is an absolute saint, of course.

Oh, of course.

But she's not the tidiest person in the world.

And she quite fails to keep the children quiet.

Ah!

You and Saint Gertrude are blessed with issue, are you?

Two boys, 12 and 10.

Martin and Erasmus.

RUMPOLE: Ah, young theologians?

I'm sorry to say their games are of a military nature.

So when I have a difficult sermon to write-- Say no more.

You clock into the nearest monastery for a couple of days.

[chuckles] I might join you sometime.

As a matter of fact, I usually take a room at the Saint Edithna Hotel.

It's our local Home-From-Home hotel.

I'm not a great one for monasteries.

I like to be able to ring for a pot of tea, and perhaps a round or two of hot buttered toast in the middle of the afternoon.

So, you indulge yourself with a bit of hotel accommodation.

Perhaps it is a little vanity.

Ah, vanity of vanities.

All is vanity, saith the preacher.

No doubt it gave them the excuse they wanted.

RUMPOLE: Gave who?

My six accusers.

Pillars of respectability-- or should I say, whited sepulchers-- of my congregation.

They made a formal complaint against me to the bishop.

What?

For booking into your local Home-From-Home hotel?

Well, a bit risky, I suppose, if you're allergic to frozen vegetables and cold claret, but hardly, I should have thought, a criminal offense.

They say I had a woman up in my room, Uncle Horace.

They've got witnesses.

A maid says she saw me let a woman into my bedroom.

And what do you say to that evidence?

I treat it with the contempt it deserves.

And does it?

Deserve contempt, I mean?

They hate me in Lanchester because of my views on miracles.

I don't think God goes in for conjuring tricks.

You believe in a God that doesn't do conjuring tricks?

Oh, yes.

Of course.

That must make you a bit of a rarity in the Church of England.

[laughs] Was that another joke?

Yes, a sort of joke.

Uncle Horace-- do you appear in the ecclesiastical courts?

Ecclesiastical?

They're going to charge me with conduct unbecoming to a priest in holy orders.

There is not a court in heaven or earth, Tim, where Horace Rumpole is not ready and willing to appear.

On the Day of Judgment I shall probably be up on my hind legs, putting a few impertinent questions to the prosecution.

Thank you.

It's absolutely disgusting.

Oh, dear.

Naughty word in The Daily Telegraph crossword.

Even the clergy at it.

Or mainly the clergy at it, from what you read in the news of the world.

What you read in the news of the world, Rumpole, only you take it.

Well, I have to keep up with the law reports, Hilda.

As a matter of fact, I rather took to the Reverend Timothy.

Oh yes, I suspect you did.

No doubt you're birds of a feather.

I've always had my suspicions about that young pupil you go around with.

Who, Ms. Liz Probert?

Oh, Hilda.

HILDA: And I expect she'll be helping you with Timothy's case?

If she has nothing better to do.

Staying in hotel bedrooms in the afternoon for a bit of peace and quiet-- I've never heard of anything so ridiculous.

Well, I suppose you will be defending him.

You'd never go near a cathedral otherwise.

I sometimes think you'll go anywhere for a criminal.

He was tried as a criminal too, wasn't he?

HILDA: Hmm?

The fellow that started it all.

Sentenced too, from what I remember.

Anyway, I've always thought there was something peculiar about that family.

Jesus' family?

Do try not to be so blasphemous, Rumpole.

The Donkin family-- bad blood.

No doubt came from Arthur Donkin.

Timmy's sister Wendy is the one that no one ever mentions.

She went to jail, did Wendy.

How do you know that?

What?

How do you know she went to jail if nobody mentioned her?

Oh, going to you sleep now, are we?

If you can, Rumpole, with your conscience.

[birds tweeting] CATHEDRAL GUIDE: The original church was built by Bishop Sartorius in the year 852, and dedicated to the blessed Saint Edithna.

Of course you know our Saint Edithna.

Not personally, no.

She were a real Christian lady in the old Roman town of Lignum Castelna, now known as Lanchester.

She was accused of, shall we say, naughty carryings-on, which were all lies.

What they didn't like was her trying to convert them to Christianity.

It was a trumped-up charge.

But they brought in a guilty verdict against her, you see?

Probably had a bad barrister.

So they stoned our Edithna to death on the site of what is now our St. Edithna Hotel, part of the well-known Home-From-Home chain in Westwood.

Some say that visitors to the hotel have seen the ghost of our saint.

Others say she's only visible if you've had a good dinner.

[polite laughter] Highly comical.

PRIEST: A lady in a white gown, a-ringing of her hands.

Her martyrdom is shown in Bishop Sartorius's chantry, if you would follow me, ladies and gentlemen.

As we pass by, you may notice the Gothic moldings carved in.

That's the way they did it, the saints themselves.

[footsteps fade] When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'Tis hard to draw them them, so sweet is zealous contemplation.

Rumpole!

What on earth are you doing here, Claude?

Everyone in chambers seems to be at prayer nowadays.

Rumpole.

I suppose that is prayer, is it, that curious Church-of-England crouch with your bottom on the edge of the pew?

I don't think you're 100% committed to getting down on your knees, as the ground.

What on earth are you doing here?

No, I asked you first.

I drop into west country cathedrals from time to time, just to recharge the spiritual batteries.

As a matter of fact, I'm pursuing my career-- in the ecclesiastical courts.

You can't do that?

- (LOUDLY) Why not?

- Shh!

You have to be a practicing member of the Church of England.

I am a member of the Church of England, practicing at the Old Bailey.

How did you get in on the act, pray?

Ballard was asked to suggest someone to prosecute on behalf of the archdeacon.

He just happened to ask me if I were a practicing member.

And here you are, practicing away like mad.

It's a case that's excited a great deal of attention in Lanchester.

I know.

They're after his frock.

Shh!

[city noise, car engines] [horn honks] [CHATTER, PLATES AND GLASSES CLINKING] Ah, my clients.

Cultivate them then, Brother Claude.

May the Lord be with you.

Tracy.

My name is Rumpole.

How are you spelling that, sir?

How about R-U-M-P-O-L-E, pronounced, "Marjorie Banks?"

What was that, sir?

(FLUSTERED) Can I help you, sir?

Yes.

Have you a Mr. Rumpole staying with you?

How are you spelling that, sir?

Oh, no.

Don't persecute the poor thing.

It'll have a nervous breakdown.

I'm Horace Rumpole.

What, Timothy Donkin's Uncle Horace?

Not my only claim to fame.

Frank Marlin of Marlin, Marlin and Spikings, solicitors of Lanchester.

We're acting for Timmy.

My instructing solicitor.

You wish to confer?

Here, shall we in the lounge?

Ah, no.

On second thoughts, the opposition has just ordered up a fresh lot of sandwiches.

I thought Canon Donkin's house might be the place for a cozy chat.

Have you been to his house, Mr. Rumpole?

No, can't say I have.

[clears throat] That little group over there, talking to that rather superior-looking barrister guzzling tea cake and trying to look as though he isn't-- MARLIN: Our six accusers.

RUMPOLE: Oh, indeed?

You know ecclesiastical law, Mr. Rumpole?

Oh yes, of course, my favorite bedtime reading.

But just remind me, will you?

The case against a priest has to be brought by six of his parishioners.

And they have to put up the money for the trial.

Do they indeed?

They must be very keen to unfrock the canon.

Oh, I think they are.

Give me the cast list, will you?

Just briefly.

MARLIN: Mr. Fox Beasley, manager of the Nat Wessex, Admiral Seal, retired; Mrs. Elphick, Chairman of the Bench.

RUMPOLE: She looks like a warm advocate for hanging for an unrenewed dog license.

MARLIN: Mr. Grogrie, the chemist.

A bit of a lay preacher.

RUMPOLE: Sermons and cenopods.

Go on.

MARLIN: Peter Lambert.

He's our biggest estate agent, responsible for Lanchester's redevelopment.

RUMPOLE: How has he escaped lynching?

MARLIN: [chuckles] And Cynthia, his wife.

She does a good deal of charitable work.

RUMPOLE: Oh, like unfrocking vicars?

I don't know if she's ever tried that before.

She looks as though she'd been knitting as the frock comes off.

Well, there they are, the unfriendly six.

We have a considerable advantage over them.

What's that?

Horace Rumpole is on the other side.

I say that in all modesty.

Right, gird up your loins, Marlin.

We're off to see the canon.

[register printing out loudly] Oh, Tracy!

Would you have my bag put in my room when the machine's made up its mind?

Right you are, Mr. Marjorie Banks.

[church bells tolling joyfully] RUMPOLE: Another Lambert site?

MARLIN: For a giant Carnation Supermarket.

RUMPOLE: Isn't a bit near the house of God?

MARLIN: There's been a long correspondence about that in the Lanchester Herald-- and protests by the Stop Carnation Society.

We had a Bach concert in the cathedral for the fighting fund.

- Oh!

And raised what, 50 pounds.

75.

Lambert and Carnation stores are bound to win in the end.

They always do.

[bells continue tolling] [noises of wind-up toys] It's your Uncle Horace, the one you're putting your faith in.

Gertrude.

Perhaps our visitors would like some tea.

Well, you know where the kettle is, don't you?

[noises of children at play] I'm afraid Gertrude's tired.

RUMPOLE: Oh, I understand.

I understand why you go to a hotel room, too, to write your sermons.

Oh, yes.

Uncle Horace, please do take a seat.

- Thank you.

- Frank.

Oh, may I remove the armaments?

Oh, sorry.

I think Mr. Rumpole would like to discuss the evidence, what the maid actually saw.

Yes.

Well, I shall tell them I don't consider it any of their business.

God will be my judge, Uncle Horace.

Yes, but tomorrow, Soapy Sam will be your judge.

And he just can't wait to unfrock someone.

I don't feel called upon to answer any of their questions.

Never?

Never.

Not even in the witness box when you're under oath?

It's all very well for your God, Tim.

According to you, He doesn't feel called on to perform any miracles.

But if that's your attitude, I'm going to have to pull something off a great deal trickier than the feeding of the 5,000, starting tomorrow morning.

TIM DONKIN: Uncle Horace?

I'm sure you'll do your best for me.

[noises of children at play] RUMPOLE: Well, I'll have the Turnado é Digna with dewy, morning-picked mushrooms, cottage-garden broccoli, and jumbo-sized West Country spud with golden dairy butter.

No doubt all thawed from the freezer, my besmocked yokels?

Yes, sir.

Anything to drink?

How about a blooming great pint of scrumpy, Shirley?

We don't do scrumpy, sir.

What a relief.

Then it can be the house French-style claret.

You can only die once.

Thank you.

How are you, Claude?

Oh, is that you, Ballard?

What time did you clock in?

Is that you, Rumpole?

No, of course not.

It's the Archbishop of Canterbury traveling incognito.

We ought to have dinner together sometime.

With the case coming on tomorrow, that would hardly be appropriate.

I think it more seemly if I dine alone, Rumpole.

You would have both the prosecution and the defense.

Neither of us could nobble you now, could we?

I suppose-- Chancellor.

Chancellor, Erskine-Brown.

It is an ecclesiastical title.

Of course.

Chancellor, I suppose I shouldn't have any rooted objection, Chancellor, if both the defense and the prosecution were represented at your table.

I should make sure of that, of course.

I would make it my duty to see you both represented.

Yes, I'm quite right and proper, too, Chancellor, if I may say so.

Thank you, Rumpole.

Of course, it wouldn't be right for us to discuss the case.

Oh, good heavens no!

For us to discuss the case would be most improper.

But we can talk about anything else, can't we?

[thunder] [heavy rainfall] [soft classical dining music] ♪ ♪ Ooh!

A night like this makes one think of old injustices.

We mustn't discuss the case, Rumpole.

Oh, no!

Of course not.

No, not a word about the case.

Unfrock the port, Erskine-Brown.

What's that?

I mean, past the port, old devil, would you?

Of course.

Well, this is a bit of a new departure for us, isn't it?

What, drinking port?

No, no, no, no, no-- ecclesiastical law.

Of course, I shall have to rely a good deal on you two fellow for the legal side.

Yes, well, I have spent the past couple of weeks boning up on the subject in Halsbury.

RUMPOLE: Well, it's not really a matter of law, is it?

Oh?

Isn't it?

Like most things in life, as a matter of fact.

BALLARD: Rumpole!

Well, injustice is the same in a law court or a cathedral, isn't it?

We mustn't discuss the case.

Of course not.

BALLARD: Well, then.

[wind howling outside] Strange sound the wind's making tonight.

Can you hear it?

It has been a dreadful summer, certainly.

You've noticed that too, Chancellor?

The wind, I mean?

Yes, extraordinary.

[thunder crashes] Can you hear in the wind the sound of a woman crying out?

No.

You sure?

Unless your wife's come down to visit us.

[laughs hoarsely] Mock on, Erskine-Brown, mock on.

It's quite clear that you chaps don't believe in miracles.

Miracles?

Miracles are certainly an essential part of Christian dogma.

Why, (STAMMERING) I'm sure we all accept that.

Then we accept the story of the blessed Saint Edithna.

I thought she was a hotel.

A Christian woman in Roman times, Erskine-Brown, falsely accused of adultery because her religious beliefs irritated the establishment.

They stoned her to death on this very spot.

And where she fell dead, a small stream of pure cold water came, trickling from the ground.

Must have been the one that came out of my bath tap this morning.

[giggles] Hold on, Claude.

I don't think it does to take these mysteries lightly.

I say, I'm frightfully sorry, Chancellor.

There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in Erskine-Brown's philosophy, Chancellor.

They built an inn on the site of Edithna's well in the Middle Ages.

There's been one here ever since.

But they do say she still keeps walking.

Like Felix the Cat.

[giggles] Walking, Rumpole?

Yes, when some great injustice has been done.

Now look here.

I thought we decided we wouldn't discuss the case.

Erskine-Brown, really?

Are you suggesting that the chancellor would permit any sort of injustice in our case?

Yes.

Erskine-Brown, really?

I must say I take considerable exception-- Oh, terribly sorry, Chancellor.

I do apologize.

Anyway, this has nothing to do with Canon Donkin's case.

It's a matter of historical fact.

She walks.

She walks.

She walks, you see.

When do they say she walked last, Rumpole?

Ah, they do say-- if my memory serves-- when a chancellor in the time of Bloody Mary had two very decent Church of England canons burnt to a cinder on the cathedral green, Saint Edithna appeared on the staircase of the old inn, wringing her hands, crying out against injustice.

She was probably wondering what happened to her breakfast.

Erskine-Brown, thou of little faith.

Erskine-Brown, there is nothing in the teachings of our church to suggest that miracles are no longer possible.

Well said, Chancellor.

And of course, injustice still continues from the Roman times right up until the present day.

I only hope the poor soul can rest in peace after this.

After this what, Rumpole?

Oh, after this dinner, Chancellor.

You still hear that wind, though?

Listen.

[wind howling] A definite hint of sobbing.

[rain pouring down] [wind howling] [ghostly groan] [humorous music] Canon Donkin has said that he used this bedroom in the St. Edithna hotel to write his sermons.

But this improbable excuse becomes incredible when the court learns that he frequently worked in the cathedral library.

I shall call-- - Did you?

ERSKINE-BROWN: --the hotel manager-- Yes-- ERSKINE-BROWN: --Mr. Campion-- --for my history of Lanchester Cathedral.

All the deeds and documents are there.

Why didn't you write your sermons in the library?

Well, the old librarian is always chattering.

Mr. Erskine-Brown, what I really cannot understand-- Yes, Worshipful Chancellor?

--is why a priest of the Church of England needs a hotel bedroom in which to write his sermons.

May I, with very great respect, remind Your Worship of a point of legal procedure?

Mr. Rumpole.

It is customary to pass judgment at the end of a trial, and not at the beginning.

And sitting, as Your Worship is in the cathedral, you must be especially anxious that a great historical injustice should not be repeated.

I imagine my learned friend is referring to Saint Edithna.

Wrongly convicted of adultery.

So far as I have read the history, I do not recall that the blessed Saint Edithna checked into a hotel bedroom for the purposes of writing her sermons.

I do not think my learned friend should be so quick to make any such assumption.

[gavel tap] Mr. Rumpole, Mr. Erskine-Brown, gentlemen, shall we get on and hear the evidence?

Just the course I was hoping Your Worship would take.

I'm much obliged to you.

If Your Worship pleases, I will call Mr. Thomas Campion.

Mr. Thomas Campion.

RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Odd sort of situation.

Saintly Sam is my judge, and his jury, four assessors.

Elders of the church, I suppose, firmly wedded to the commandment, Thou shalt not commit hanky-panky in the St. Edithna Hotel.

--the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

ERSKINE-BROWN: Mr. Campion, as manager of the Saint Edithna Hotel, do you produce the registration form for room number 39, signed by Canon Timothy Donkin on the 17th of March this year?

- Yes, sir.

This is it.

How would you describe the room?

It is a twin-bedded room, sir, with a bathroom attached.

So it is a room for two people?

- Yes, sir.

- With twin beds?

Yes, indeed, sir.

Close together?

About two feet apart, sir.

Only two feet apart.

So I suppose if a couple were so minded, they might pull the two beds together?

Yes, sir.

They might.

Thereby making one larger bed.

What a brilliant deduction.

Thank you, Mr. Campion.

Mr. Campion, Canon Donkin had occupied that room on many previous occasions.

He had taken similar rooms.

And you say number 39 is a double room?

With twin beds, Mr. Rumpole, which could be pulled together.

If the occupants were prepared to run the risk of falling down the gap in the middle.

[polite laughter] BALLARD: Silence.

And there is no reason, is there, why this room number 39 should not be used as occupancy for a single person?

No reason, no.

RUMPOLE: And frequently is?

Yes.

Do you, in fact, have any single rooms in your hotel?

No.

Since our recent conversion, all our rooms are either twin-bedded or have a king-sized double bed.

And did Canon Donkin particularly order a king-size bed?

Not as far as I can remember, no.

So It doesn't seem as though he'd come to your hotel for any sort of hanky-panky.

Mr. Rumpole?

RUMPOLE: Yes, Your Worship?

We are within church precincts.

Oh, I had forgotten.

I thought we were in court.

Yes.

So perhaps your expression, hank-- the expression you used was not entirely appropriate.

Oh, really?

Well, what expression would you like me to use in the cathedral's precincts?

The charge is conduct unbecoming-- The fact that Canon Donkin had not ordered a king-sized bed would indicate to you that he had not come to your hotel for any sort of conduct unbecoming a clerk in holy orders.

I didn't know why he'd come.

RUMPOLE: Oh, did you not?

But he'd come frequently to your hotel, hadn't he?

Once or twice a month.

Yes.

RUMPOLE: And each time, he told you that it was to work on a particularly difficult sermon.

He did say that, yes.

RUMPOLE: Well, did you believe him?

Your Worship, I object.

What this witness believed is totally irrelevant.

Do sit down, Erskine-Brown.

You let him the room at a cheap rate, did you not?

We like to do what we can to help the church authorities.

Well, you wouldn't be helping them very much, would you, if you assisted one of their clergy to commit hanky-- conduct unbecoming?

I suppose not, no.

No.

I mean, are we to understand that you and Home-From-Home Hotels, Limited are running some sort of church knocking shop?

Mr. Rumpole!

I'm sorry.

Some sort of ecclesiastical house of ill repute?

Your Worship, I object.

That is a totally monstrous suggestion.

No more monstrous than the charge of gruesome morality leveled at the good name of Canon Donkin!

Mr. Rumpole, I rule against the admissibility of that question.

Oh, very well.

If this trial is to be conducted with all the ruthlessness of tea on the vicarage lawn, I have absolutely nothing more to say.

Mr. Rumpole, Mr. Erskine-Brown, perhaps this would be a convenient moment to rise for luncheon.

BAILIFF: Be upstanding.

[crowd murmuring] [soft classical dining music] Thank you.

I don't think I feel like any lunch.

Oh, you've got to keep your strength up, Reverend Tim.

The trial's only just warming up.

Judge isn't behaving too well, though.

I'll have to put the fear of God into him somehow.

Mr. Ballard?

RUMPOLE: Mmm.

I think he's in danger of confusing the Christian Church with Christianity.

Speaking of the church, how's your history of the cathedral coming?

Ah.

Well, I think I'm on the track of something interesting.

Oh, jeez!

In the organ loft?

No, nothing like that.

But there seems to have been a gift of land to the cathedral from the crown in 1672.

Sensational stuff.

That'll shoot you to the top of the best-selling list.

[suppressed laughter] Don't want to bore you.

No, no.

Tell us all about it.

Well, it's really rather exciting.

You see, in the back room of the library-- Miss O'Keefe, just tell us in your own words exactly what you saw.

I was standing at the end of the corridor-- ERSKINE-BROWN: That is the third floor corridor?

Yeah.

[snickers] Well, I was standing there and the door from the emergency staircase opened, and I saw a woman.

Can you describe her?

Oh, not very well, because the light was behind her.

She was thin.

And I think she was dressed in a sort of gray suit.

Oh, yeah.

Reddish hair, from what I remember.

What happened then?

Well, she walked quickly-like to the door of number 39.

She knocked at the door and I saw him open it to her.

BAILIFF: By him, you mean Canon Donkin?

Yes, sir.

ERSKINE-BROWN: And then?

He let her into the room and shut the door on the both of them, sir.

ERSKINE-BROWN: And after that?

I stayed watching for some time, but they didn't come out.

How long did you stand in the corridor?

About three quarters of an hour.

ERSKINE-BROWN: And then what did you do?

Then I went downstairs to the reception area.

And at about 6 o'clock, I saw that gentleman.

ERSKINE-BROWN: Canon Donkin?

- Yes, sir.

I saw him leave the hotel.

And then I went up to the room, number 39.

Did you notice anything about the room?

MISS O'KEEFE: Oh, the beds were, you know, made up-like.

But there were cigarettes with lipstick on them in the ashtray beside the bed.

Thank you, Miss O'Keefe.

Just stay there, would you, please?

BALLARD: Any questions, Mr. Rumpole?

Just a few, My Lord.

Miss O'Keefe, what did you do with the lipstick-stained cigarette ends?

Did you keep them?

I chucked them away in the rubbish bin.

I suggest you might have done the same with the rest of your worthless evidence.

Mr. Rumpole!

Oh, very well.

Let us try to take this thing seriously.

You say that when the canon left, the beds were made.

They could have been made up after use, Mr. Rumpole.

By a particularly domesticated pair of lovers, yes.

You told us that you waited in the corridor for three quarters of an hour after you'd seen a woman admitted?

Yes, I did.

RUMPOLE: You just stood there, neglecting your other duties?

No, I wasn't neglecting my duties.

It was my afternoon off.

Your afternoon off?

Then what on earth were you doing spying on Canon Donkin?

[clears throat] Well, a gentleman had asked me to keep an eye on the reverend-- you know, when he came to the hotel-like.

Indeed?

And did this gentleman pay you 30 pieces of silver, perhaps?

I do object!

Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

I think we should try and keep the Bible out of this.

Oh!

Am I to understand that the Gospels don't apply in an ecclesiastical court?

No, of course not.

Certainly not.

Miss O'Keefe, I want to understand your evidence.

Were you paid?

Did some gentleman pay you to keep some sort of watch on the Reverend Timothy Donkin?

10 pounds he gave me for the afternoon.

And who was this generous gentleman, this open-handed spymaster?

It was that gentleman, sir.

[crowd murmurs] RUMPOLE: You have indicated, and you are looking directly at, Mr. Peter Lambert of Lambert and Palfrey, Estate Agents and Property Developers of Lanchester.

Thank you very much, Miss O'Keefe.

My Lord, Your Worship, the evidence which Mr. Rumpole has just brought out has rather taken me by surprise.

Oh, Claude.

I'm terribly sorry.

I would like an opportunity to take some instructions.

Perhaps Mr. Lambert can explain.

I rather doubt it.

If Your Worship would rise, perhaps for 10 minutes?

Yes, very well.

We will take a short break.

For silent prayer, Claude?

BAILIFF: Be upstanding.

[church bell tolling] Send me a sign.

[bell continues tolling] Keep the change.

Thank you.

Mr. Lambert, Miss Rita O'Keefe has suggested that you paid her to keep some sort of observation.

Is that right?

Now let's get this right.

MR. LAMBERT: I certainly paid-- A gift of the land to the cathedral by Charles II.

Spoken of in contemporary documents.

I still have to find the deeds.

--and I thought he should be exposed.

Miss O'Keefe's observations proved me absolutely right.

Absolutely right.

Thank you.

[grunts] Mr. Lambert, I think you're anxious to develop a site very near the cathedral green as a new Carnation shopping market?

My Lord, I really can't imagine what this can have to do with the case.

Well sit down and be quiet and you might learn.

What's the answer, Mr. Lambert?

Yes.

RUMPOLE: So that the view of the cathedral may be spoiled, and the good citizens of Lanchester may wander around a concrete monstrosity, filling little wire wheelbarrows with goods they never wanted in the first place?

Yes, we do intend to develop the property.

Sir?

RUMPOLE: And you were aware that my client, Canon Donkin, was delving into the history of the cathedral?

When he was not otherwise engaged in amorous affairs, yes.

Might I suggest that you have obtained information-- probably from the talkative librarian-- regarding the research Canon Donkin is doing into the title of that very piece of land you want to develop as a supermarket.

It is most probable that that land was a gift to the cathedral by King Charles II in 1672, and has been cathedral property ever since.

I heard he had some wild idea about that, yes.

RUMPOLE: And if that is the case, you have absolutely no title to that land whatsoever.

It seems that is what he's trying to prove, yes.

And bang would go your chances of making a packet on a new, unwanted supermarket!

So now we can see why you and your cronies-- the bank manager, the admiral and the chairman of the bench, that motley crew of self-interested and self-appointed guardians of public morality-- who, incidentally, have all invested in the new Carnation site.

Now we can see why you all wanted to get rid of the Reverend Timothy Donkin.

Well, what's the answer, Mr. Lambert?

We honestly believe he is guilty of immorality, sir.

Do you indeed?

How very convenient for you.

Mr. Rumpole, even if Mr. Lambert and his friends have some financial interest in this case-- RUMPOLE: Even if, Your Worship?

--I still have to consider Miss O'Keefe's evidence about the woman who came to the canon's room.

Shall we say 10:00 tomorrow morning?

[computer beeping] Yeah.

Yes.

Good.

Yes, I've got all that, Inspector.

Thank you very much.

It's most interesting.

Yes.

Oh, Inspector Blackie, thank the criminal records computer for me, too, will you?

[chuckles] Yes.

Fine.

Thank you.

[chatter] Hilda!

Do I come as a bit of a shock to you, Rumpole?

Come to see all the fun of the ecclesiastical fair, have you?

No, I would hardly call adultery by a priest in holy orders fun, Rumpole.

I don't suppose you would.

Still, they may have enjoyed it at the time.

That seems in remarkably poor taste.

Yes, I suppose it is.

Well, what's it to be, your usual G&T?

I prefer not to take anything.

Oh, please yourself.

Large claret, please, Nicky, love.

What are you doing here, Hilda?

Doing a tour of the great English cathedral cities, are you?

Sightseeing?

Salisbury's next, is it?

The sight I have come to see is you, Rumpole.

Oh!

Well, I suppose in some quarters I may be known as an ancient monument.

And far too ancient to be staying in hotels with girls about you.

Girls?

Not one girl, Hilda.

Oh, until you arrived, of course.

Well, where is she, then?

RUMPOLE: Where's who?

You know perfectly well who I mean-- Ms. Probert.

And don't try to look so innocent.

[chuckles] You've come all this way to see Ms. Liz, have you?

"Will she be coming with you?"

I said.

"Oh, yes.

If she's got nothing better to do," you told me.

I'm sure she had nothing better to do.

Hilda, Ms. Probert is doing a spot of indecency up at Snaresbrook.

She's getting work on her own now.

She's not here, then?

I am sorry.

Are you dreadfully disappointed, Hilda?

Well.

She's not here, then.

RUMPOLE: No.

I wanted to have a look around Lanchester again anyhow.

RUMPOLE: Of course.

And it's too late to go back tonight.

Ah yes, I'm afraid it is.

We'll find a restaurant, hmm?

The food here is rather like my jokes.

HILDA: What do you mean?

RUMPOLE: Not always in the very best of taste.

HILDA: How did it get out of order?

RUMPOLE: It happens in the best-regulated hotels, Hilda.

HILDA: It's extremely inconvenient.

RUMPOLE: Yes, I know.

There's one in perfect working order just along the landing there.

[toilet flushes on floor above] [footsteps on floor above] [hilda humming] [church choir singing] RUMPOLE: Your sister, Miss Wendy Donkin, convicted of fraud and false pretenses, 1986.

Released on license, now wanted for 10 subsequent offenses concerning checks and stolen credit cards.

So far, avoided arrest.

If she's caught-- which, of course she will be-- she will be sent straight back to complete her original sentence.

And that's only the start.

Poor Wendy.

Exactly.

She needed money.

She telephoned you, you arranged to meet her-- in the hotel bedroom, where you are eccentric enough to compose your sermons.

I imagine you suggested she come up the emergency staircase to avoid unwelcome attention.

But neither of you had bargained for Mr. Lambert or his spy, hmm?

You gave her money, I suppose?

I gave her a promise.

What?

Not to tell anyone that I'd seen her.

Oh, well, that's a promise you're going to have to break, old love, because I'm going to put you in the witness box.

You can tell Soapy Sam all about it.

No!

What?

No, Uncle Horace, I gave my word.

I'm not bringing Wendy into it.

Oh, look, Tim-- Reverend Tim.

Are you quite insane?

I don't think so.

But I'm quite determined.

Oh, do resist the temptation to be a martyr, old love.

It's not that!

I'm simply not going back on my word just because of Peter Lambert.

I'm sorry, Uncle Horace.

I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Oh, it just adds another terror to my job.

TIM DONKIN: What?

Having some sort of saint as a client!

Mr. Rumpole?

RUMPOLE: Yes, what is it?

The Chancellor would like to see both counsel before the court sits.

Would he indeed?

[church choir singing] I have had a sleepless night and given this case very anxious consideration.

This is not an ordinary court.

And we are here exercising a very special jurisdiction.

We must be particularly careful that we don't commit any sort of injustice against a person who may be-- may very well be entirely innocent.

We have here, of course, the memory of a certain martyr very much in our minds.

Oh, very much, Chancellor, in my mind, constantly.

We must also be grateful if a place like this, this holy city of Lanchester, can give us any sort of guidance.

Guidance, Your Worship?

Guidance comes to us, Erskine-Brown, from many unexpected sources.

I think what the Chancellor means, Claude, is that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.

Exactly, Rumpole.

Very well-put, if I may say so.

So, as I say, I have thought anxiously about this case, and I'm not ashamed to say that I have prayed.

I'm quite sure that we have all prayed, Your Worship.

Well-- BALLARD: So, having prayed, I have come to the clear decision that having regard to the financial interest involved and the possibility that Miss O'Keefe might have been tempted to, shall we say, invent for money-- More than a possibility.

There's so much original sin about these days, Chancellor.

Yes, yes.

I have come to the conclusion that it would not be safe for us to proceed any further against Canon Donkin on this evidence.

I propose to direct the assessors to acquit.

Of course, I'll hear arguments if you wish to address me.

Your Worship-- Now give up gracefully, Claude.

--having regard to the-- God's against you.

Hmm.

[door opens, whistling] Rumpole?

RUMPOLE: Yes, it is I. Saint Rumpole and All Angels.

There you are, Hilda.

I'm-- I'm so sorry that your holiday in the West Country was so short, Hilda.

I don't know why I came down in the first place.

Oh, no, no.

It was enormously kind of you.

You were a power for good.

It's not that I'm jealous of you, Rumpole.

I don't want you to flatter yourself about that.

No, of course not.

Did they mend the lavatory?

Almost as soon as you'd gone.

Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?

Don't tell me you won the case!

A famous victory, Hilda!

Yes, the age of miracles is not past.

Let us drink to the blessed Saint Edithna.

RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Also known as She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.

[pleasant woodwind music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪