[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ [background chatter] You can identify, Mr. Fabian?

I'm afraid so-- my daughter.

Poor Veronica.

I told you.

I rang her father's firm where she worked.

Fabian Winchelsea, estate agents.

Yes, I spoke to Veronica Fabian and said I was interested in 13A Gissing Mews.

And that was the afternoon before?

Yes.

And you never spoke to her before that afternoon?

Never.

I made an appointment at 8:30 the next morning.

I made it early because I had to fly to Spain about my timeshare apartment.

I have been through all this before, Inspector.

Well, go through it once more, if you don't mind, Mr. Jago.

I got to the Mews just before 8:30 in the morning.

The front door was open, I pushed it, I went up the stairs and saw this girl lying on the floor bleeding.

I made sure she was dead.

Why?

CHRISTOPHER JAGO: Well, I'd have rung the ambulance otherwise, wouldn't I?

You tell us, Mr. Jago.

Well, then I suppose I just panicked.

I left and drove to the airport.

You didn't know the man next door had got your number?

You were parked outside his garage.

Did you know that?

Well, I had no idea, honestly.

Whatever reason would I have for killing her?

None at all-- not so far as we can tell.

Are you charging me?

I mean, I came back from Spain, didn't I?

Voluntary.

I could have stayed away.

No, Mr. Jago, we're not charging you.

Just keep us informed of your movements.

We may need you as a witness.

So I'm innocent?

Well, let's just say there's insufficient evidence, luckily for you, Mr. Jago.

OK. Well, I suppose it's been an article of faith all my life in the law.

I never prosecute.

Think of it another way.

You'd be defending my daughter, Veronica.

Oh, isn't it a little late for that-- to defend her, I mean?

There's no time limit on murder, is there?

And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

Hmm?

Hmm.

We don't want revenge, Mr. Rumpole.

All we're after is justice.

And we haven't had much of that, sir-- not since they decided not to charge Jago.

We just wonder how much that cost him.

He can probably afford it.

We don't know that, Roger.

My son's very angry, as you can imagine, Mr. Rumpole.

Veronica was his sister.

Why did the police let him go, Mr. Rumpole?

That's what the family want to find out.

Everybody says you'll never be a judge, so you're not afraid of going for the police.

Yes.

They said we weren't to mind about the soup on the tie and the cigar ash down the waistcoat.

And you don't give a toss for the establishment.

Oh, really?

I gather you wish to launch a private prosecution.

Exactly.

The family wants to prosecute Christopher Jago for willful murder.

Private prosecutions-- I'm not sure whether I approve.

Citizens arguing each other into the nick-- where's it all going to end?

We want justice, as we told you.

Surely we deserve that.

I'll use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?

There is one thing, though, that interests me.

Yes?

Jago told the police that he rang your daughter for an appointment at your firm.

Is there no record of the call or the meeting, come to that?

No, not in his name.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Well, whose name, then?

There's a note in her diary of an appointment to meet a man called Arthur Morrison at 8:30.

Arthur Morrison.

Well, is he a client of yours?

Not so far as we can discover.

The name means nothing to either of you?

No, nothing at all.

May we send you the brief, Mr. Rumpole?

Hmm?

Ah.

Well, I'll have to think about it.

My clerk will let you know.

Good afternoon.

HORACE RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): Arthur Morrison-- now, where have I heard that name before?

[chatter] Ah, thank you, Jack.

You must be pleased.

My Christmas present is me.

[laughs] Rumpole, there you are.

The power of evil is everywhere.

Mineral water, please.

And everywhere includes our very own chambers in equity court.

Oh, yes.

That is why I've sought you out, although one doesn't like to spend too much time in these places.

Oh, does one not?

The danger here is passive alcoholism.

You'll have heard of passive smoking.

Yes, I've heard of it, but personally, I prefer the active variety.

Yes, well, one can absorb alcohol simply by standing near a person who's using it.

Oh, really?

Is that one of Matey's medical theories?

Marguerite is extremely well-informed on all health problems.

Oh, yes.

So when we invite colleagues to dinner at Waltham Cross, we make it clear-- our home is an alcohol-free zone.

Oh, really?

Well, you'll probably find it's a Rumpole-free zone as well, old darling.

Rumpole.

Yes?

I wanted a word in confidence.

I need to enlist your help as a senior-- in years, anyway.

[coughs] A very senior member of equity court.

A particularly grave crime has been committed-- forgery, false pretenses, and obtaining briefs by fraud.

You're making my flesh creep.

You know an instructing solicitor by the name of Miss Patricia Benbow?

La Belle Benbow?

Baubles, bangles, and beads.

Yes.

- Yes.

Well, she sent a civil brief to David Inchcape, but Claude Erskine-Brown turned up to do the case.

And the sinister thing was-- I'm strangely uninterested.

Good, good.

The name Inchcape had been scratched out, and Erskine-Brown substituted in capital letters.

Are you accusing Claude of brief-nicking?

[chuckles mirthlessly] Oh, he'll be delighted to think you think he's evil.

Probably feels you got a touch in the Nibelungs or something.

Remember that case we did about the dirty restaurant?

He tried to conceal the fact that he'd been dining there with Miss Benbow.

He even wanted to mislead the court.

Well, yes, that's true.

Claude seems to conduct his love life with a maximum of embarrassment to all concerned and a minimum of sexual satisfaction.

Rumpole, please.

Well, if you call that evil.

Any man who wishes to deceive his wife is quite capable of deceiving his head of chambers.

I want you to undertake the prosecution of Claude Erskine-Brown.

Assemble all the evidence against him.

And if he is proved guilty-- Yes.

[stutters] Rumpole, there is no place in equity court for a fellow who pinches other fellows' briefs.

[laughter] Furthermore-- That's the second time today I've been asked.

Prosecution isn't my line of country at all.

Rumpole only defends.

[slam] CHARMIAN NICHOLS: Is that you, Hilda?

Ah, yes, strangers.

Oh, it's you, Hod.

No, not exactly.

I'm Charmian Nichols.

Didn't Hilda tell you?

Come for Christmas?

Oh, we usually get a dodo for Christmas.

I mean Hilda's old school friend, Dodo Mackintosh.

Well, you're in luck's way, my dear old fellow.

You've got me instead of dear dowdy little Dodo.

Into the kitchen with you.

No shirking.

I always say that the real fun of Christmas is everyone mucking in together.

Don't you agree?

I've never been able to discover what the real fun of Christmas is.

Oh, what an old Scrooge you are.

My Charlie adored Christmas.

Who's Charlie?

My husband, Charlie.

- He's not coming, too, is he?

- Hardly.

Dropped off the twig.

Oh.

So I rang Hilda and said if you've got Dodo Mackintosh coming for Christmas, why not ditch her and let's have a splendid time all mucking in together?

Didn't she tell you?

Oh, well, now you mention it, I do have a vague recollection.

Yes.

I bet you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on, wouldn't you?

[laughter] Now, you get that jacket off, and let's finish laying out for Hilda, shall we?

- Yes.

Just a moment, if you don't mind.

Plenty of time for drinkies later.

Then you shall have one as a reward.

I always told that to Charlie.

No wonder he dropped off the twig.

CHARMIAN NICHOLS: What's that?

What'd you say?

I said no wonder it's not very big.

What's not very big?

The kitchen is not very big.

Extraordinary things you say.

Oh, Hilda?

Oh, Rumpole.

Yes.

You're home.

- Yes.

- Yes.

And you've met Charmian?

Yes.

We've become great friends already.

I hope you won't be jealous, Hilda.

No.

I'm so sorry I was such a long time.

Traffic was appalling.

Christmas lights-- all the buses were at a standstill.

If the Son of Man had known what trouble he was causing, then he would have chosen to be born on a nice summer's afternoon when most of London were off having a nice holiday on the Costa del Crime.

I don't think that's a very nice thing to say.

Dodo and I were at school with Charmian.

Of course, she was miles above us.

She was house prefect and captain of hockey.

Oh, I hope she doesn't expect me to give her a game.

Can you imagine, Harold?

Your wife and I seem to spend hours washing up our lunch.

She really must persuade you to buy her a brand-new Crock-A-Gleam for Christmas.

- You mean a dishwasher?

- Mm-hmm.

Oh, yes, but we're always talking about that.

Oh, always.

Always.

We can never seem to get around to it.

Uh.

Surely, Harold, you're going to buy your wife something white for Christmas?

You mean handkerchiefs?

No, it hadn't occurred to me, but thanks for the tip.

By the way, my name is Horace, but as you're staying with the family, you can call me Rumpole.

Oh, extraordinary drink.

What?

Pomeroy's very ordinary.

It raises the spirits, keeps you astonishingly regular.

Do you think I could have a gin and tonic?

Yes.

Can I have one too, please, Rumpole?

To hear is to obey.

Charlie insisted that I could only keep my looks if I was fully automated.

I mean, I just couldn't have run our social life if it hadn't been for my plan-ahead freezer and my jumbo microwave rotisserie and our dear, faithful old Crock-A-Gleam.

Surely, Harold can afford to mechanize you, Hilda.

He's always in court, from what you say in your letters.

Well, legal aid defenses don't pay for very much machinery.

Legal aid?

Isn't that some sort of national health?

Oh, I don't only do legal aid defenses.

Nowadays, I'm offered the occasional private prosecution.

And of course, they can be extremely lucrative.

CHARMIAN NICHOLS: Oh, really?

How much?

2,000 pounds, Mr. Rumpole.

They sent down the check with the brief.

Oh, and I've agreed-- refreshers at 500 a day, sir.

500?

And it's a case likely to last a day or two.

Well, we've got it down, Mr. Rumpole, for two weeks.

Nothing in court for me tomorrow, is there, Henry?

Nothing at all, Mr. Erskine-Brown.

You can take the rest of the week off.

Well, I'll come into chambers, anyway.

That's entirely up to you, sir.

I didn't change the name on that brief, Mr. Rumpole.

Well, we know what we think, don't we, Dianne?

Yes, Mr. Rumpole, we know what we think.

Henry, your wife, the Lady Mayor of Bexleyheath-- Ah, no longer, Mr. Rumpole.

Her year of office being over, she has reverted to mere Alderman.

Oh, then you are no longer the Lady Mayoress.

Oh, much to my relief, Mr. Rumpole.

I've handed him my chain.

Well, tell me, Henry, does the good Alderman ever plunge her ex-mayoral hands into the washing-up liquid?

Oh.

Hardly, Mr. Rumpole.

Of course, we are fully automated-- have been for years.

Oh, yes.

Well, of course, on a clerk's fees.

It's only the old barristers who have to keep slaving away with the dishcloth.

[laughs] No offense, Henry.

Go forth, my clerk, into the highways and byways of Oxford Street.

Order me up the most gleaming, melodiously purring Crock-A-Gleam that money can buy.

Have it dispatched to Mrs. Rumpole at Foxbury Mansions with the compliments of the season.

So you are gonna prosecute in Jago, then, Mr. Rumpole?

Well, yes.

I thought I'd try my hand at it, just for a change.

[chatter] It's a good thing you were in the clerk's room this morning, Rumpole.

Oh, yes.

Why, exactly?

Well, Ballard says he doesn't want me to go in there unless some other member of chambers is in attendance.

Hmm.

What's he think I'm going to do-- forge my fee notes or ravish Dianne?

[chuckles] Probably both.

It's unbelievable.

Oh, well, you must remember.

Ballard specializes in believing the unbelievable.

He seems to have appointed himself judge, jury, and handwriting expert.

I think he wants me out of chambers, Rumpole.

Well, he believes you're sunk in sin.

He's probably afraid of catching passive sinning from you.

But what on Earth's Phylli going to say?

I should think she'd be delighted to have you at home do the washing up.

Unless, of course, you happen to have a Crock-A-Gleam like the rest of us.

Please, Rumpole, this is no joking matter.

Almost everything, Claude, in my humble opinion, is a joking matter.

You will defend me, won't you?

Ah.

Well, now, Ballard has asked me to fill an entirely different role.

You?

But you don't ever prosecute, do you?

Well, you've really joined the enemy now, haven't you, Rumpole?

[sputters] And don't pretend you don't know what I mean.

Henry's told me all about it.

It's as contemptible as acting for a landlord who's trying to evict a one-parent family on supplementary benefit.

You've gone over to the prosecution.

Not gone over, old love.

Just visiting.

[scoffs] Just visiting the establishment, just there on a friendly call.

How comfortable, Rumpole.

How cozy.

You know what I always admired about you?

HORACE RUMPOLE: Oh, tell me, Liz.

The fact you were always on the side of the underdog.

Yes.

You were the one that stopped all the judges sending everyone to the nick.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Yes, yes.

You showed up the police.

You stood up for the underprivileged.

And you, of all people, are being paid by some posh family of ritzy estate agents to cook up a case against one of the competition.

But they're narked he's been set free because there isn't any evidence against him.

Ah.

Let me enlighten you, Ms. Probert.

There is plenty of evidence against him.

Like the fact that he never went to a decent public school like the Fabians?

Like the fact that he scooted off to the continent when he discovered the body instead of telephoning the police.

Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to think up all sorts of clever points against him.

Probably, you'll be able to argue him into a life sentence with a 25-year recommendation.

Probably, you'll get the thanks of the judge and the-- and a weekend shooting at the Fabians' place in Hampshire.

I don't know why you did it, or rather, I know only too well.

How do you?

Why?

Henry told me.

Just for a handful of silver, he left us.

You're always quoting Wordsworth.

Yes, I am, but that's Browning about Wordsworth.

- About him, is it?

- Hmm.

The lost leader.

Well, no wonder you like Wordsworth so much.

Let's go.

Well, I say, Rumpole, young Liz was somewhat narked.

Yes, you could say that again.

She didn't seem to notice me sitting here at all.

Of course, everyone thinks I pinched Dave Inchcape's brief.

I don't, Claude.

- Don't you?

- Did you?

No.

No, of course not.

Rumpole?

Yes?

Are you really prosecuting for a handful of silver?

Oh, that and a brand-new Crock-A-Gleam, and of course, so that justice may prevail.

Cozy little place, really.

Hardly room to turn around.

Are we sure that this is where it actually happened?

Hmm?

The pathologist's report said the body was not moved.

This is where she died by a single, savage blow to the head.

[distant clanking] Seen all you want?

Yes, I think so.

Then we'll call on the client.

I think Mrs. Fabian wants to look you over.

It's rare for a criminal hack to be invited into a client's home.

Oh, few people, I suppose, want the neighbors to spot the sturdy figure of Rumpole climbing their front steps.

It gives rise to speculation as to whether it's murder, rape, or nice, clean fraud that's going on in that particular family.

I could learn to live with it if I knew just why Veronica died.

You mean who killed her?

Yes, of course that's what I mean.

Well, perhaps you could tell me something about her.

Did she-- did she have any boyfriends?

No.

That was really the trouble.

She didn't seem able to find one-- at least no one she cared about.

She worked in your estate agency.

What were her outside interests?

Well, she read enormously.

She had the idea of becoming a writer.

And she did some things for the school magazine which were rather good, I thought.

They were very good.

She never got much further than that, I'm afraid.

I suggested she came to work for us.

Then she could write in the spare time.

If she'd looked like making a success of the writing, of course I'd have supported her.

Yes.

What sort of things did she read?

Oh, all sorts of things-- mainly 19th century novels.

She often spoke of wanting to be a novelist.

Well, her favorites were the Brontes.

Oh, yes, the Brontes.

Charlotte, especially.

She had a very romantic nature.

Yes.

This fellow Morrison, whoever he may be that keeps turning up in her appointments diary-- are you sure he was never a client of yours?

Not so far as we can discover.

There's no correspondence with him.

Well, do you know a friend of hers by that name?

We've asked, of course.

No one can help.

But according to her diary, she had had six previous appointments with him.

Of course we don't know everything about her.

You never do, do you?

Not even about your own daughter.

All right, then.

Tell me what you know about Christopher Jago.

Now, he's an estate agent, too.

You must have come across him by way of business.

Not really.

He has a different type of business.

Does it in a different sort of way.

Well, what does that mean?

That we've heard things.

You do hear things.

What sort of things?

Undervaluing houses, getting their owners to sell cheap to a chap who's really a friend of the agent.

Ah.

And then the friend sells on at the right price, and he and the agent split up the profits.

Yeah, we've no proof of that, of course.

I mean, it wouldn't be right for you to assume that's what he was doing.

And apparently, he's rather a flashy type of person.

I mean, that's all we really know about him.

He's a cowboy, and he looks the part.

Veronica was not robbed.

She was not sexually assaulted.

As far as we know, she hadn't quarreled with anyone.

And Jago had not even met her.

Now, why on Earth should he kill her?

Yes, the police couldn't answer that question, either.

[background chatter] MRS. FABIAN: So glad you could stay for lunch.

I don't know if Francis Pyecraft has explained to you about Veronica.

No.

What about her?

As a matter of fact, she's not our daughter.

Not?

No.

After Roger was born, we so wanted a girl.

Evelyn wasn't able to have any more children, so we adopted.

Of course, we loved her just as much as Roger, but now, well, it seems even more important that she should be treated justly.

Yes.

There's always one child who you feel needs special protection.

[rumbling] Such lovely presents.

I'm glad you like the lavender water, Hilda.

Well, as a of fact, Rumpole, I still have some from last year.

Oh, never mind.

This lot will do for laying down.

And the socks will always come in handy.

I really meant your presents, Charmian.

The special homeopathic skin beautifier-- got to do something about those poor toil-worn hands of yours, haven't we, Hilda?

Oh, and thanks a bundle for that amusing little tea set you both got me.

How very sweet of you to go out and buy it, or was it another present from dear old Dodo Mackintosh?

Here's to absent Dodo.

I feel particularly fond of Dodo Mackintosh this Christmas.

Least I've got Howard to get you a dishwasher, Hilda.

I've managed to do that.

You didn't make me buy it.

And who did, then?

Well, I suppose the person who murdered Veronica Fabian.

Eureka!

I have found it in a companion to literature.

Callooh!

Callay!

Morrison, Arthur, born 1863, a prolific author, lived on into the Second World War.

Tum, pum, pum, pum, pum.

His most famous novel, published 1896, concerned life in the East End of London.

And what do you think it was called?

A Child of the Jago.

[chatter] Happy New Year, Liz.

Hmm.

Oh, Claude, you're a refugee from the Christmas visitors, too, are you?

- No, Rumpole.

I'm a refugee from the shrink.

The what?

The psychiatrist.

Phyllida knows all about the case of the altered brief.

Ballard told her.

Oh, I bet he enjoyed doing that.

She was very understanding.

You told her you were innocent?

She believed you?

No, she didn't believe me.

She was just very understanding.

She said it was the mid-life crisis-- you know, women who pinch things from Sainsbury's.

But Phylli thinks quite a lot of men go mad as well.

So she said it was a sort of cry for help, and she'd stand by me, provided I went to a shrink.

Oh, yeah.

Jack?

Thank you.

So?

So it seemed easier to agree, somehow.

She fixed me up with a Dr. Gertrude Jowzar, who lives in Belsize Park.

What did the good Dr. Jowzar have to say?

Well, I mean, first of all, she had this rather disgusting old horsehair sofa with a piece of Kleenex on the pillow.

- Ugh.

She made me lie down on that, so I felt rather a fool.

And then she asked me about my childhood, so I told her.

And then she said the whole trouble was I wanted to sleep with my mother.

And did you?

What?

Want to sleep with your mother?

Certainly not.

Mummy would never have stood for it.

Frankly, Rumpole, Mummy was an absolute sweetie in all sorts of ways, but she was-- well, no offense to you personally, but she was corpulent.

I didn't fancy her in the least degree.

You tell Dr. Gerty all that?

Yes, I did.

I said, quite frankly, I wouldn't have slept with Mummy if we'd been alone together on a desert island.

And she said ach, so fantasizes about being alone with his mother on a desert island.

I can't go and see Dr. Jowzar again, Rumpole.

No, I suppose not.

All that talk about Mummy behind her back-- it's too embarrassing.

She'd have hated it so if she'd been alive.

Oh, yes.

Yes, I do see that.

Yes.

Thank you, Jack.

Would you excuse me for a moment, Claude?

Liz.

How did you know all that stuff about Christopher Jago?

You can't sit there.

I'm expecting Dave Inchcape.

Yes, all right.

Just until he comes, about him not going to a public school, all that sort of thing.

Dave and I got our flat through him.

Oh, yes.

I forgot that you and Inchcape share a-- are comortgagees.

And I have to tell you, Rumpole, Christopher Jago was absolutely honest, reliable, and trustworthy throughout the whole transaction.

- Oh, good.

And compared to the prices agents like Fabian Winchelsea were asking, he got us our flat pretty cheaply.

He didn't put up the price or let us be gazumped by other clients.

And he helped us fix up our mortgage.

Oh, and he didn't conk me on the head with a Zulu knobkerrie.

No, I imagine, from what you've said, you wouldn't like to come and take a note from me, act as my junior.

You must be joking.

Yes, I must be joking.

Christopher Jago asked me if I knew any brilliant solicitors and said he preferred women in his life, so I sent him off to Tricia.

Ah, the fair Tricia.

And who is she briefing?

Me.

You?

Yes, Rumpole.

I'm for the defense, just as you ought to be.

Liz, with all due respect, you're not doing this alone, are you?

Oh, no.

I've got a leader.

Who?

Our head of chambers.

[chuckles] And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

Rumpole for the prosecution and Ballard for the defense.

Tell him to sit close to me.

He might catch some passive advocacy.

Oh, by the way, old darling, that new organic wine you're drinking-- it's just the old nonorganic stuff.

They put a green label on the bottle.

Claude, come and help me in the Mews murder.

It'll take your mind off your mother.

May it please you, My Lord, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I appear in this case with my learned friend, Mr. Claude Erskine-Brown, for the prosecution.

The defense of Mr. Christopher Jago is in the hands of my learned friends, Mr. Samuel Ballard, QC, and Miss Elizabeth Probert.

Do I hear it right, Mr. Rumpole?

Did you say you were here to prosecute?

Yes, my lord.

That's an unusual role for you, Mr. Rumpole.

A little unusual, my lord, yes.

Members of the jury, Mr. Rumpole, a most experienced advocate, is here to prosecute.

Now, just you sit and listen carefully to everything that Mr. Rumpole has to say.

Hmm?

The defense will get his chance in due course, but in the end, what really matters is your good old British common sense.

Hmm?

Now, Mr. Rumpole, please.

Carry on.

Take all the time you need.

HORACE RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): That's one of the great drawbacks of prosecuting.

You get judges like Ollie Oliphant on your side.

Mr. Pyecraft, meet Ferdinand Isaac Gerald Newton, known as Fig Newton, private investigator nonparallel.

You have been hiring Fig to find out all we can about Christopher Jago.

Have I?

Oh, didn't I tell you?

Well, how are you keeping, Fig?

A slight head cold, Mr. Rumpole.

A consequence of keeping observation in inclement weather.

I'm sorry.

Occupational hazard, Mr. Pyecraft.

Well, tell us what you can about Jago quick as you can.

Otherwise, we'll have Ollie Oliphant down on us.

He's well known in a number of pubs in the Maida Vale and Notting Hill Gate area, where the property he deals in are situated.

Favorite resort, the Warrington Hotel near the Regent's canal.

Yeah, well, shake it up, Fig.

Girlfriends.

Oh, plenty.

Mostly blonde secretaries and receptionists.

The bar staff at the Warrington used to lay odds on how long each one would last.

Odd thing, though.

The one he used to see there most frequently wasn't pretty at all.

Tell me, Fig.

She was a very unattractive woman.

Used to sit in a corner together.

You passed the photograph round?

FIG NEWTON: Oh.

Oh, yes, yes.

The barmaid was pretty sure.

It was Veronica Fabian?

Mr. Rumpole, you've got it.

Detective Sergeant Burville, is that the African club, or knobkerrie, which was found beside Veronica Fabian's body?

It is.

Members of the jury, you'll no doubt remember the scientific evidence.

Traces of blood of a similar type to that of Miss Fabian's were found on that-- what do you call it-- club.

Yes, thank you, Detective.

[sputters] Wait there a moment, would you?

No doubt Mr. Ballard will have some questions for you.

You will have some, won't you?

You are defending, aren't you?

No questions, m'lord.

What do you mean, no questions?

Ask her about the fingerprints on the handle.

Well, what do you mean?

Jago's aren't there, are they?

No, of course they're not.

That's a point in favor of the defense.

Bring it out.

Mr. Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Yes, my lord.

I thought you told us were here for the prosecution.

That's right, My Lord.

Well, do try and use your common sense about this.

We've all got common sense, to a greater or lesser degree, haven't we, members of the jury?

And if Mr. Ballard wants to ask a question for the defense, he'll no doubt get up on his hind legs and do so.

I rather doubt it.

Detective Sergeant Burville, let me put this to you.

There are absolutely no fingerprints of Christopher Jago on that weapon, are there?

There are no fingerprints of any sort, my lord.

Thank you, Officer.

Well, I'm glad I was able to winkle that out of her.

Yes.

Pretty useful admission, don't you think?

[chuckles awkwardly] (WHISPERING) How's it going now?

Not terribly well except when Rumpole forgets he's not defending.

Detective Inspector Sloggett, after you discovered the body, you spent a great deal of time and trouble trying to find Arthur Morrison, did you not?

We did, milord.

And Arthur Morrison was, in fact, at all times, your number one suspect?

He still is, milord.

And the name Arthur Morrison occurs several times in Veronica's book of appointments?

It does, milord.

And she was to have met Arthur Morrison on the morning she died?

That is why we wanted to interview the man Morrison, milord.

Yes.

Did you know, Inspector, that Veronica Fabian was an avid reader of 19th century novels?

I believe her father mentioned she was fond of reading.

Yes, milord.

Do you know that an Arthur Morrison was a prolific writer of the period?

No, I didn't know that.

Ah.

Then no doubt you do not know what his best-known novel was called?

No, I don't know that.

It is called A Child of the Jago.

[gasp, murmuring] The Jago?

HORACE RUMPOLE: A fictitious area of London, my lord.

Tell me, Inspector, do you think it's possible that Veronica used the name Morrison as a cover for the name Jago?

Perhaps she did not want her parents to know that she was meeting with a rival businessman that they did not approve of.

I suppose it's possible.

Yes, possible that Morrison and Jago are one and the same person?

Well, the way you put it, Mr. Rumpole, I suppose it has to be a possibility, yes.

Well, whether this man Morrison exists, if you had known that Christopher Jago was meeting Veronica Fabian regularly, would that have made any difference to your decision not to charge him?

Well, yes, my lord.

I think it might.

Look, don't let's beat about the bush.

Jago told you he'd never met the girl.

And if you'd thought he was lying, you'd have charged him.

Yes, My Lord.

See, members of the jury?

We got that sorted out at last thanks to a bit of down-to-Earth common sense, hmm?

Inspector Sloggett, you decided to question Jago when you discovered that his car had been parked near 13A Gissing Mews at the relevant time.

Yes.

You did not know that he already been inside the house and discovered the body?

At that time, no.

HORACE RUMPOLE: So he volunteered that information to you freely of his own accord?

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR SLOGGETT: That's right.

Was that one of the reasons why you did not charge him?

That's one of the reasons we thought he was being honest with us, yes, My Lord.

Thank you.

There you are, Ballard.

Made your best point for you.

Don't ruin it.

Um, so far as that goes, Detective Inspector, do you still think he was being honest with you about the way he found the girl?

I don't know, sir.

I mean, if he was lying to us about not knowing her, then I can't be sure about any of his evidence, can I?

[murmuring] You ruined it.

Thank you, Detective Inspector Sloggett.

My Lord, I will call the pathologist.

I'd better go and do my case in court 13.

You're not prosecuting, are you?

Good god, no.

I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't do.

You know that, don't you, Liz?

LIZ PROBERT: Radical lawyers forever.

That case that you're supposed to have pinched from young Inchcape-- what was it about?

Oh, please, Rumpole.

Don't remind me.

No, no, no.

Tell me.

What was the subject matter?

Just the gist of it, you understand.

Well, it was a landlord's action for possession, as I recall.

- Oh?

- Nothing very exciting.

He wanted you to evict a one-parent family, did he?

No, no.

No, it was a couple of ladies in the gay rights movement.

Oh?

He said they were using the place to run a business.

Why do you ask?

Because the information you've just given me, old darling, may be of great importance.

Cheer up, old love.

Oh, Rumpole.

You met Veronica Fabian at the Warrington Hotel many times, didn't you?

Oh, come along, Mr. Jago.

The court has heard evidence to that effect.

All right.

Yes, I did.

Nothing wrong with that, was there?

How did you first meet her?

I met around the Warrington with another girl from Fabians' I'd been out with once or twice, if you want to know.

Yes, yes, I want to know.

Then I saw her there on her own eating her sandwiches.

We got talking.

Well, what did you get talking about?

The house business-- prices and that round the area.

I didn't chat her up, if that's what you're suggesting.

She wasn't the sort of girl I could ever fancy, even if I weren't pretty well looked after in that direction.

[chuckling] - Oh, really?

Then why did you see her so often?

Just happened to bump into her.

That's all.

That's not all, is it?

Your meetings were planned.

There are half a dozen appointments with Morrison in her diary.

CHRISTOPHER JAGO: All right.

She seemed to want to see me.

And we made a few dates for a drink round the Warrington.

You've remembered that you've sworn to tell the truth at last.

Why did she want to see you?

Perhaps she fancied me.

It has been known.

[chuckling] I don't know why she wanted us to meet.

You tell me.

No, Mr. Jago.

You tell us.

CHRISTOPHER JAGO: She was a bit scared to tell me about it.

She said it would mean a lot of trouble if it got out.

If what got out?

She was worried about what was happening at Fabians'.

Well, what did she say was happening at Fabians'?

She said that they gave people who wanted to sell their houses very low valuations.

Then they sold to a friend who looked independent, but was really in business with them.

The friend sold on at the proper price, and they shared the difference.

She reckoned they'd been doing that for years on a pretty big scale, I imagine.

Stop him.

He's trying to ruin us because we know he killed Veronica.

Why do you think she told you that?

I reckon she was worried.

I was in the same business as her.

She wanted my advice.

But like I said, perhaps she fancied me.

I don't know.

She said that there was nobody else, no real friend she could tell about it.

Mr. Jago, why were you at 13A Gissing Mews on that morning?

I told you.

I was interested in the place for a client.

I phoned Veronica and arranged to meet her there.

You kept the appointment, you found her dead?

CHRISTOPHER JAGO: Yes.

Why did you not telephone the police?

Because I was afraid.

Afraid of what-- that you might be arrested for her murder?

No, not afraid of that.

Well, what then?

I thought she'd been done over because she'd told me what the Fabians were up to.

I thought to myself, that might be me if I get involved anymore.

You killed her!

Just a moment.

Now, of course, I understand the strength of family feelings.

Anyone with an ounce of common sense can understand that, but I must ask the relatives of the deceased to restrain themselves.

All right?

[murmuring] Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

Might I see exhibit 1, please?

Mr. Jago, I am bound to put it to you.

You met Veronica Fabian at the Mews house that morning.

You quarreled violently.

You took this knobkerrie from the wall.

You swung it up above your head.

Mr. Rumpole.

Mr. Rumpole.

Yes?

Why are you treating us to this unusual moment of silence?

My Lord, I-- I have an application to Your Lordship.

It is of the greatest importance.

What is?

HORACE RUMPOLE: That the court adjourn as soon as possible to the scene of the crime.

There is something that must be demonstrated.

Now, Mr. Jago, would you mind standing there, please?

Would you take this?

I want you to try and hit me there.

Careful, Rumpole.

We don't want to lose you.

[thunk] [gasping] Quite so.

MAN: We're prosecuting, and you've just got him off.

Be up standing.

Will your foreman please stand?

What did he say?

I'm giving a small party to my defense team at the Warrington Hotel.

Will you both come?

MAN: --Jago guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty, my lord.

[exclaiming] WOMAN: Brilliant!

[applause, cheering] Why did you do it?

Did you want an innocent man convicted?

[scoffs] What a stupid question.

Of course you did.

May I?

Thank you.

You said there was always one child that needed protection, but it wasn't Veronica, was it?

It was your son, Roger, with his odd little way of accusing other people of things he'd done himself.

What do you mean?

Oh, come on.

The racket of undervaluing houses to sell to your secret nominees.

He accused Jago of doing that, didn't he?

Just as he accused him of killing Veronica.

Oh, I'm not trying to prove something beyond reasonable doubt, just thinking.

Go on, then.

Well, we know Veronica found out what was going on and didn't like it.

She asked Jago for his advice.

He told her to keep him well-informed, doubtless so that he could make something out of it when it suited him.

And then I think Roger found out what his sister was doing.

Well, she wasn't really his sister, was she?

Perhaps he'd always been jealous of her.

I think he followed her to the Mews House to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing.

They quarreled.

He lost his temper.

He took the knobkerrie off the wall.

And he is short enough to swing it without hitting the ceiling.

He didn't mean to kill her.

Perhaps not, but he had to be protected, didn't he?

For always.

And the one sure way of doing that was to have someone else found guilty.

And that is what you paid me to do, Mr. Fabian.

You paid me to take part in a criminal conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.

You said you couldn't prove it!

Even if I could, it's never really been my business to prosecute.

And it's never been my business to take part in crime, either!

I've instructed my clerk to return your money.

Poor Roger.

What?

Not poor Veronica?

[chatter] [upbeat music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Thanks for coming, Mr. Rumpole.

Do you always work for the other side?

If you do, I'm bloody glad I didn't have you defending me.

[laughter] You know this little legal lady, don't you?

Wasn't Chris a marvelous witness?

No comment.

- Oh.

- [laughs] The bar's over there.

Oh, hi there, Mr. Rumpole.

Yes.

Didn't we have a splendid win?

Yes!

One of Sam Ballard's most famous victories.

I say, Ballard, I hope you're not contracting passive alcoholism from the contents of that glass, are you?

♪ ♪ MAN: Mr. Rumpole, it's your clerk on the phone.

He says it's urgent!

Right.

I've got a bit of a situation here, Mr. Rumpole.

Yeah, Mrs. Ballard's here, sir.

Oh, bad luck.

Yeah.

She just happened to come up for her sprains and fractures refresher course and wanted to meet up with her husband, as he told her he was going to a Lawyers Christian Society meeting tonight and might be late home, but she wanted to know where the meeting was being held so that she could join him, if at all possible.

Henry, he is at a private bacchanalia in Maida Vale.

You knew we were all going.

Didn't you tell Mrs. Ballard?

HENRY (ON PHONE): [chuckles nervously] No, sir.

Mr. Ballard, at the moment, is receiving some passive sexual excitement by standing close to Miss Tricia Benbow.

I don't suppose you'll tell her that, either, will you?

No, sir.

Decidedly not.

Where is the wife of Ballard now?

Here beside me.

HORACE RUMPOLE (ON PHONE): Pass her over to me, Henry, would you?

Yes?

HORACE RUMPOLE (ON PHONE): Oh, hello, Matey-- um, Marguerite.

This is Horace Rumpole.

Horace, whatever are you doing there?

Sam can't come to the phone at the moment.

He's very busy getting ready to induct a new member.

A new member?

HORACE RUMPOLE (ON PHONE): Yes.

- Who?

- Me.

- You?

[clattering] Yes.

I've decided to turn over a new leaf.

But where are you meeting?

Oh, I can't possibly tell you that over the phone, Marguerite.

Whyever not?

Well, for your own safety.

We have received threatening calls from militant Methodists.

MARGUERITE BALLARD (ON PHONE): Horace, are you Sam's all right?

Oh, yes, yes, perfectly all right.

It's just that he can't come to the phone, that's all.

He said he would see you at home in Waltham Cross, but don't wait up for him because he will probably be absolutely exhausted.

Is he filled with the spirit?

Oh, yes, indeed.

That was your wife!

Ooh.

She's not coming here, is she?

No.

I've given you a cast-iron alibi.

I'll tell you about it later.

Oh, Liz, I'd like to tell you my solution to the case of the altered brief.

Liz, would you like to come for a dance?

No, Dave.

You stay.

I'd like you to hear what I've got to say.

I know you always get into chambers early.

All white wigs do.

You found, to your horror, that you'd been engaged by a flinty-hearted landlord in an eviction case to kick out a couple of gay women from house and home.

What would Liz have thought of that?

So you simply scratched out the name Inchcape and wrote in Claude Erskine-Brown.

(SLURRING) Inchcape!

Is this true?

Is it, Dave?

Well-- Go and tell Claude, for god's sake.

Somebody's gotta put him out of his misery.

I'll come with you.

Thank you, Liz.

To make sure you do it.

[chatter] I told Matey-- ♪ ♪ Ah.

Ah, good morning, Hilda.

You were home very late last night.

Yes.

A few things to clear up in chambers.

I'll make you a nice cup of coffee.

You're in a very good mood this morning.

HILDA RUMPOLE: Aren't I always?

Oh, yes, yes, yes, of course.

But-- oh, I say!

Where's the Crock-A-Gleam?

Oh, look, you haven't pawned it, have you?

I know things aren't brilliant.

No, no, no, I sent it back.

Why?

What's it done wrong?

Well, nothing, really.

It's just that it takes twice as long to do the washing up as even you do, Rumpole.

That's not it.

It's her.

Her?

Charmian Nichols.

She wrote to Dodo saying that Christmas with us was about as exciting as watching her fingernails grow.

When I think of the money we spent on that tea set for her-- Charming Knickers.

That's what we used to call her at school.

We got her quite wrong.

There's absolutely nothing charming about her.

Hilda, how do you know what she wrote to Dodo about Christmas with us?

Because Dodo sent me her letter, of course.

Well, after that, I simply couldn't sit and look at that thing that you had bought me just to please her.

Wonderfully loyal lot, those old school chums of yours.

[sighs] Are things very bad, Rumpole?

Oh, nobody'll employ me now.

Changing sides in the middle of a case?

Anyway, from now on, Rumpole only defends.

You did what you thought was right.

Please don't do what you think is right again, Rumpole.

It does seem to have the most disastrous results.

(WHISPERING) She who must be obeyed.

[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪