Did you and Mr Hove enjoy your walk into town this afternoon?

Have you noticed how the light drops, and then returns?

I can't say that I have.

Not yet, but last night in our room just before the mirror shattered, suddenly, an icy cold, and the lights almost went out.

I expect, Mrs Hove, that it is because you are unused to gas.

It does tend to go up and down.

Among the first we were in Manchester to be electrified.

Manchester, Edmund... Our little house.

Oh, our little nest.

Always a wrench moving.

Something you'll have to face soon, my dear, when we are married.

MONICA: It's quite unusual in the country to have it at all.

The gas, I mean.

My late aunt spent a great deal of money laying it on.

She should have waited for the electric.

I'm afraid, Mr Hove, that had my aunt done so, we might be eating this meal by candlelight.

WINDOWS FLY OPEN Oh, dear!

Oh, no, please.

I'm so sorry.

The catch on the window must have given way again.

I did ask the gardener to look at it for me but he's so deaf.

OBJECTS CRASHING UPSTAIRS - Heavens!

- I mean... something must have fallen over.

Better let me go first, Monica, just in case.

In case of what, Norman?

It's nothing, I tell you.

Nothing that can't be explained.

Oh, Edmund... MRS HOVE SHUDDERS WIND HOWLING WINDOWS CLATTERING My things!

Oh, my beautiful clothes!

Gone, Bella.

They're gone.

MRS HOVE: What?

- He's right, Mrs Hove.

The wardrobe's empty.

Oh.

There you are.

Look.

They're all laid out.

MRS HOVE: Oh.

SHE GASPS Oh!

What the 'eck?

Cut to shreds, Edmund!

It's a sign.

They mean to murder us.

Well, that's it, that's it.

I'm leaving.

I'm not going to stay in this house another night.

It is haunted.

MR HOVE: But, Bella, we paid for the fortnight.

MRS HOVE: You stay!

MR HOVE: What about our things?

SHE BREATHES NERVOUSLY Who?

Why?

- Why?

I think you may safely assume that someone wishes you to leave the Red House, my dear.

GLASS SHATTERS Don't touch.

It's glass, dummy.

Don't want blood on the Christmas tree now, do we?

I don't know.

Might be rather suitable for a detective agency.

Blunts' Bloody Bureau.

- Tommy!

Sorry, old thing.

Got carried away.

Perhaps you'll carry this away.

We've a client due any moment now, and Albert's not back to show her in.

Oh.

How sad.

I remember every Christmas at the vicarage I used to help Father hang these.

They used to be 12.

- Cheer up.

Still got 11 left.

- Nine.

- Oh.

You?

No, Albert.

He insisted on helping me start.

There's a Valentino season at the Rex picture house, and you know the phase he's going through.

Tango dancing.

Do you know he's seen Blood and Sand every night this week.

He came in, he picked up an ornament, did a violent turn, letting it fly out of his hand as though it had a life of its own.

TOMMY LAUGHS, ALBERT HUMS Oh... Hello, sir.

Miss Tuppence.

I got the tea and some sandwiches.

Turkey.

Very nice.

I gave you a half-crown, I think.

- Think?

- I'll give you... nine pence.

Senorita.

Is it going to be Mr Valentino all through Christmas, Albert?

If so, I don't think I can stand it.

Sorry, miss.

It's just that the films are so real.

It's much more powerful than life.

Oi!

Oh.

And here you are at the centre of one of Britain's most celebrated detective agencies.

Uh, really, Albert...

HE CLEARS THROAT ..how can you be so ungrateful?

Oh, it's not that, sir.

Oh.

I realise only too well how important my work is here.

When I see Rudolph Valentino grab Nita Naldi, and sweep her into that fiery tango, well, it's so reckless.

Precisely.

Hardly seasonal, though, Albert, dreaming of sun and sand when it's more likely to be snow and sleet outside.

Now's the time of year for spirits to fill the night air, tales by the chimney breast.

BELL CHIMING Ghosts of time past.

And predictions for the future.

TOMMY: Hm?

We used to play that at the vicarage when I was a child.

You'd write something down you thought might happen, seal it, and not open it again until the following Christmas.

- I say, what a wait.

- Only the first year, Tommy.

Let's do one now.

You write something down, and I'll hide it till next year.

I'll do better than that.

I'll predict something that's imminent.

I was always rather good at this sort of thing.

I predict that our next client will be... a clergyman's daughter.

TOMMY LAUGHS How did you know?

Mr Blunt, I've always believed myself to be a reasonably logical, sane person, yet circumstances are beginning to force me to the conclusion that my home may be haunted.

You mean you've seen a ghost, Miss Deane?

Well... Not seen, exactly.

Heard.

Terrible crashing.

Crockery flying across the room.

Pictures falling, the lights going up and down.

TUPPENCE: A poltergeist.

- Excuse me?

That's what they're called.

Sort of evil spirits that make tricks.

- Oh.

I think, Miss Deane, if we could begin at the beginning.

Oh...

It's such a rambling story.

Let's see... My father was rector of Little Hampsley in Suffolk.

Three years ago, he died.

My mother and I were left very badly off.

KNOCK AT DOOR TOMMY: I'm so sorry... Come in.

I believe a cup of tea was requested, sir.

Yes, Albert.

Will you kindly hand it to Miss Deane?

And that will be all.

- Yes, sir.

TOMMY SIGHS Ah.

TOMMY CLEARS THROAT Please continue, Miss Deane.

DOOR CLOSES Well, at first, I went out to work as a governess, but my mother soon became a confirmed invalid.

I had to come home to look after her.

We lived in tiny but expensive lodgings, and were desperately poor.

Until one day, our fortunes seemed to change.

'We received a lawyer's letter 'telling us an aunt of my father's had died, 'and had left everything to me.

'I'd often heard of this aunt 'who'd quarrelled with my father many years earlier, 'and knew she was very well off, 'so it really seemed our troubles were at an end.'

But matters didn't turn out quite as well as we'd hoped.

I did inherit the Red House which was where she lived, but after paying one or two small legacies she'd made, well, there was no money left to live on.

Yet you had believed your aunt to be rich.

Indeed I had, Mr Blunt.

I suppose she must have lost it during the war, or perhaps she'd just been living on the capital.

Still, we had the house.

It's a large, rambling place.

'The town is over a mile away, so we're quite remote, really.

'I suppose it's called the Red House 'because of the brick, 'although the locals tell more lurid tales.'

TOMMY: You don't look to me the sort of girl who listens to village gossip, Miss Deane.

No, I...

I just feel so... Oh... Miss Robinson appears to have been rather carried away by your story.

HE CLEARS THROAT - Oh, how dreadful.

- Quite right.

Perhaps you could squeeze another cup out of Albert?

You know how he listens to you, Mr Blunt.

Oh.

Yes.

Yes, I'll certainly try.

TUPPENCE CHUCKLING HE CLEARS THROAT If you'll excuse me.

HE CHUCKLES SOFTLY Now, come on, Miss Deane, out with it.

Is it a man?

- How could you know that?

- It happens to everyone.

It happened to me.

- Oh.

Tell me about this man, Miss Deane.

Well, you see, there are two of them.

Oh, that didn't happen to me.

I suppose one rich, one poor, and the poor one's the one you like.

I don't know how you know these things.

Sort of law of nature.

There's Norman.

Mr Partridge.

He was with me the night the wardrobe overturned, and the Hoves' clothes were shredded.

He's kind, considerate, and rich.

A good man, I'm sure.

If I married him, all our troubles would be over.

It's just that... - You don't love him.

Tell me about the one you do.

- Oh.

Gerald.

He's a dear, desperately poor, although a clever engineer.

We came up today in his car.

He made it himself.

I expect if you look out of the window, you'll be able to see him.

I understand your preference.

Here we are.

Now, then, Miss Deane, tell us what it is exactly that makes you suspect foul play of a more... earthly order.

It's the offers I've had for the house.

- To purchase it?

- Yes.

Even before we moved, I received by letter, a most generous offer.

Then, shortly after we moved in, I was still varnishing the hall... We had decided the only way we could keep on the house was by taking in paying guests.

'It was Crockett's day off, and I was desperately trying to 'finish off alone before 'the first visitors arrived, when...' BELL CHIMING Good afternoon.

I've called to see your mistress.

I wonder if you would inform her.

My name is Smart.

Percival Smart.

Oh...

Still decorating, I see.

Mr Smart, I am she, the owner of the house.

Can I help you?

- Oh.

Miss... Deane?

Oh.

I've been told the house is for sale, and I might be interested.

Mind you, big place.

Difficult to heat, I expect.

HE CHUCKLES SOFTLY Still... - I'm afraid you've been misled.

I should be prepared to make a most generous offer, which if invested wisely... Mr Smart, this house is not for sale.

I-I intend to run it as a business proposition.

My first guests arrive next week.

Our first visitors were two couples.

The Busbys had seen our advertisement in the Home-finder, and the young couple by the name of Cockwell, quite recently married, I suspected, had heard of us through friends.

They'd all retired early.

SHE SIGHS SHARPLY I read to Mother as usual, and settled her down for the night.

By the time I was ready to take her tray down, the church clock was striking 12.

CHURCH BELL DINGING 'I heard some sound coming from the Cockwells' room as I passed, 'but nothing out of the ordinary.

'I was about half-way down the stairs when...' OBJECTS CRASHING UPSTAIRS, WOMAN SCREAMS TRAY CLANGING WOMAN CONTINUES SCREAMING MR BUSBY: Whatever's happened, Miss Deane?

It's all right, Mr Busby, there's nothing to worry about.

WOMAN SCREAMS SHE CONTINUES TO SCREAM MISS DEANE: 'They all left early next day.

'I could hardly charge them, 'and now there were the repairs to pay for as well.

'Upon inspection, it did seem as if 'the four-poster had been just cut through.

'It was after three more sets of guests had fled 'following similar happenings 'that I received my third offer for the house.

'A Dr O'Neill called to see me.

'Told me he was a member 'of the Society for Psychical Research, 'that he had heard about 'the curious manifestations at the house, 'and was much interested.

'So much so he wanted to buy the house 'in order to conduct a series of experiments there.

'At first I was thrilled, and said so.

'He smiled broadly at me, 'and my blood ran cold.'

TUPPENCE: What did you see?

MISS DEANE: His filling.

A gold filling.

Yes.

Perhaps you'll think it fanciful of me, but... - What?

- It was the same man.

The same man what?

The same man that wanted to buy it before.

Mr Smart.

I remember quite clearly when he smiled at me he had a gold filling in exactly the same place.

'Then I looked at his ears.

'They were just the same as Mr Smart's.

'A peculiar shape with hardly any lobe.'

I'm sure I haven't made a mistake.

It was the same man.

TUPPENCE SCRIBBLING This Crockett that you mentioned, Miss Deane...

He's your butler?

No.

I'm sorry, I didn't make it clear.

No, Crockett is a she.

TOMMY: Ah.

She was with my aunt for about eight or ten years.

A middle-aged woman.

Not always pleasant in manner, but a good servant.

She is inclined to give herself airs because her sister married out of her station.

Crockett has a nephew she's always telling us is quite the gentleman.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come in.

HE CLEARS THROAT Sorry to interrupt, sir.

A Mr Rush is enquiring on Miss Deane.

- Gerald.

- Gerald?

Gerald.

Drove her up in his car.

Made it himself.

I see.

HE CLEARS THROAT Well, I think that's all for the moment, Miss Deane.

Now, remember, there's no need to be afraid any more.

Blunt's brilliant detectives are on the job now.

Thank you, Mr Blunt.

What a weight.

TOMMY: Ah.

- Oh, there is just one thing.

- Yes?

Your fee.

I was wondering... Oh, strictly on results.

Now, stop worrying.

You've been through quite enough already.

Hadn't we better have Miss Deane's full address, Mr Blunt?

- Oh, of course.

The Red House, Starton-in-the-Marsh.

When will you arrive?

TOMMY: Unexpectedly, Miss Deane.

But remember, you have never met me before.

Either of us.

Oh!

DOOR CLOSES DOOR CLOSES ANGRILY: But Miss Deane made no mention to me of a party staying over Christmas!

That is a matter for you to take up with your employer.

Her Ladyship made the reservation personally.

Here she is, and here she is likely to remain.

Thinking of buying it, see.

- This house?

- The same.

- Hasn't she heard about... - The poltergeist?

Oh, yeah.

You ask me, that's the reason she's so set on it.

Funny woman.

Oh, well, I'll be off to the station to collect her husband, Mr Beresford.

Mr Beresford.

I thought you said she was Lady Grasmere.

That's right.

Born to a title she ain't letting go of for no marriage.

Money's always, though.

Now, don't you forget, a pot of Earl Grey, and plenty of hot water.

Run away.

Now, tell me again, Tommy, exactly as the bank manager told you.

Before the outbreak of war, Monica's aunt withdrew all her assets in gold and cash, and brought them back here.

So they must be hidden on the premises.

Yes.

And someone else knows it.

Which explains all the offers for the house.

You surely don't think she would have hidden them under the mattress in the guest room?

Of course not, goose.

Then what are you looking for?

An uneventful night's sleep.

Last time this collapsed, Monica Deane said it appeared to have been cut through.

I'm just making sure we don't suffer a repeat performance.

I'm very much afraid the four posters always have an effect on me.

- Always?

I couldn't possibly permit an uneventful night in a four poster.

Tuppence, start concentrating that fertile mind of yours on finding this beastly treasure.

Now, you're a woman... - A neglected one.

- Nonsense.

Anyway, you're far more likely than I to know where an old lady would hide things.

Same place as a young lady.

Tuppence, really.

Talking of ladies, by the way, how is it in our disguised form, I remain plain mister whilst you assume a title?

I thought it a perfect opportunity to see how it might have felt had I married Graham.

HE LAUGHS You'd find a lot more to put up with married to Graham Grasmere than a title.

A lot less, too, if my information is correct.

Tommy, you can be very cruel.

Ah-ha, the clergyman's daughter has returned.

She's in for another shock when she finds out who's arrived.

She's 25.

I'm sure she'll manage.

CAR APPROACHING TUPPENCE: Oh, look, there's Gerald.

Isn't he adorable?

TOMMY: Mm.

Engaged, you say?

TUPPENCE: Not yet.

That's our job.

TOMMY: I see.

TUPPENCE: Oh, Tommy, we must help them.

We'll certainly try.

You'll have to work fast.

Once Crockett and that precious nephew of hers get their hands on this house, they'll turn it upside-down till they get what they want.

Ah, good.

Tea.

Yes, but, Tuppence, an old lady could hardly have dug holes in the garden, or pulled up floorboards on her own.

I know.

She'd never have trusted anyone enough to help her.

Tommy, there must be a clue amongst her possessions.

HE SIGHS Oh, come on, old thing, I'm starving.

Let's go and surprise our hostess.

TUPPENCE: From the very moment I entered your house, Miss... - Deane.

- Of course.

Miss Deane.

..I felt as though I had come to rest, although rest is hardly a word one would use to describe to someone possessed, perhaps cursed with psychic power.

Oh... Crockett, leave the tea.

I'll pour the rest.

I mounted your staircase as though in a trance, and without knowledge, I was simply drawn to the room we will now occupy.

And all around me, I sensed the presence of an unhappy child.

Wilful and full of spite, but in reality, longing for eternal rest.

I say, old girl, Mrs Patrick Campbell had better look to her laurels.

- I thought you were wonderful.

But why... - Oh, a impression created.

Seeds sown.

Oh, but surely you can't think that... Have you ever met your servant's nephew, Miss Deane?

No.

Oh!

Ten to one he has a large gold filling in his tooth.

TUPPENCE: And possesses little ear lobe.

Oh... TOMMY: Now, then, Miss Deane.

- Monica.

TOMMY: Monica, can you tell me what became of your late aunt's personal belongings?

Her garments?

- There were only a few.

Um, some were given to Crockett, the rest sent to various poor families.

Everything has been gone through, and turned out.

Papers.

There must have been papers.

Yes.

The desk was full, and there were some in the drawer in her bedroom, but nothing of importance amongst them.

Have they been thrown away?

No.

My mother is always very loathe to throw away any old papers.

There were some old-fashioned recipes amongst them which she intends to go through one day.

- Good.

- Was that gardener here in your aunt's time?

- Is it old Frank Mulberry?

Yes, poor old fellow.

He's past doing any really useful work, but we have him in once a week just to keep things tidy.

We can't afford more.

He used to come three times.

Perhaps, Monica, if you would be good enough to collect up all your aunt's old papers for me whilst we have a word with old Mulberry.

FRANK: All along there it went, far as you can see.

It were cockerels and peacocks end to end.

Deepest green you ever saw.

Green Cockerels?

FRANK: Topiary.

Like sculpture it were.

My speciality, My Lady.

Proper artist I was with them shears.

But now all these old hands are good for is holding a glass of ale.

When I can afford it.

The old lady was lucky to have you.

Ar.

Let the place go to wrack and ruin they did once she were cold.

Those boys from the council houses, they set fire to it.

But I knows all their names.

But while she was alive, she must have depended on you totally.

Ar.

TOMMY: Everything that went on in the garden, all her little secrets shared with you.

Maybe.

Like the unusual things she got you to bury for her.

The... box, for instance.

- Box?

- Yes, the box.

Thank you very much, sir.

Well, let's see now.

Box, you say?

BOTH: Yes.

Hm.

Afraid I can't help you there.

- Why not?

Cos I never buried no box, that's why not.

- Oh, but I... - Potatoes, carrots... fine spring onions, plenty of them.

But I never buried no boxes.

They don't come up well, you see.

HE LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY SHE LAUGHS Oh...

I say, Miss Deane, is anything the matter?

- Partridge.

- Beresford.

My wife Lady Grasmere.

Forgive me.

I should have done that.

Um, Mr Partridge is my financial adviser and good friend.

Mr Beresford and Lady Grasmere are house guests.

Oh, I didn't realise you'd be occupied.

You're staying for Christmas?

That is written in the ether, Mr Partridge.

Lady Grasmere is a student of psychic phenomena, Norman.

Gracious me, another one.

You'll soon be charging admission, Monica.

We shall of course expect to pay the going rate for our stay... Mr Partridge.

MR PARTRIDGE CHUCKLES I shall be in touch with you shortly.

For your decision.

Good afternoon.

TOMMY: Good afternoon.

TOMMY: What is it?

What's happened?

Norman tells me that the bank intends to foreclose on our loan.

Within two weeks, our remaining funds will have disappeared.

Broke, eh?

And that, I take it, is the financially secure alternative to Gerald?

He's awfully clever with figures.

Very swift to tell a girl when she has none left to be clever with.

He wants me to marry him.

What am I to do?

There's Mother to think of, and it's Christmas.

Get a grip, Monica.

You're not alone any more.

No.

We mean to get to the bottom of this case.

Now, then, have you collected together all your aunt's old papers for me?

Yes, I put them upstairs in your room.

OBJECTS CRASHING UPSTAIRS MISS DEANE: Oh!

ANGRILY: If one garment is shredded...

The poltergeist up to its tricks again...

DOOR CLOSES Monica!

Fetch her quickly, please.

Not my clothes, Tommy, not my clothes!

They're all hired, and we'd never recover.

Not unless you have taken to wearing a jug and basin, my sweet.

Your things are quite safe.

Come, Lady Grasmere.

Settle yourself in here, and await the vibrations.

DOOR CLOSES This way, Crockett, please.

HE SHUSHES My wife is just returning.

I must have it.

Tommy, we must purchase this property.

You see?

Confirmation.

It looks as though you have definitely found a purchaser, Miss Deane.

So kind of you to bring your housekeeper in.

Now, then, as you may have gathered, my wife and I have decided to purchase the Red House.

We shall be delighted if you would consent to stay on, and keep house for us.

Thank you, sir.

I should like to think it over, if I may.

- Certainly.

- Will that be all, ma'am?

- Thank you, Crockett.

- I'll clear the tea things.

Of course.

Perhaps, Miss Deane, if you would be kind enough to inform the other bidder that the property is now sold.

Forgive me, but I do know what he is offering.

HE LAUGHS It's a good-good price, but I propose to offer £100 more.

Well... TUPPENCE: What is this talk of money, it must not be allowed to stand in the way of spiritual experience.

The forces around us compel me to remain at all earthly cost.

The coast is clear.

Mr Beresford, have you no consideration for an artist's finer feelings?

SHE LAUGHS Oh, really, I was beginning to quite enjoy it.

Yes, I noticed.

I thought you were both first-rate.

Why did you want Crockett suddenly?

Just to make quite sure, Miss Deane.

- Monica.

- Monica.

Did you notice how out-of-breath she was?

Further proves that she's your poltergeist.

Just had time to escape down the back staircase after smashing the jug and basin in our room.

But the lights dimming, the windows flying open, and the cold air... Crockett's often been present when these happen.

Yes.

I haven't worked out how yet.

But who is fairly obvious.

That's the third time you've been through that box.

I know.

Move away from that fire, Tommy, or you'll drop off.

- Oh.

Well, I'm taking it slow because I'm testing for invisible ink.

Shows up against the heat.

- Not so far, darling.

Anything in particular struck you yet?

Two receipted bills, three unimportant letters, one recipe for preserving new potatoes, one for lemon cheesecake.

- Oh.

- What's the matter?

Food.

You know I can't think on an empty stomach.

Oh, you missed lunch, too, didn't you?

Although, I must say, when I think back on Albert's magnificent hamper, I'm quite grateful not to...

Still, look what it's going to prove.

Oh, yes, I know.

Crockett's guilty.

Appalling food and no spooks, a winning combination to confirm it.

I'd still rather have had a good dinner.

Well, throw yourself into your work.

Come on.

Read me yours.

One bill, one poem on spring, two newspaper articles... Why Women Buy Pearls: A Sound Investment, and Man With Four Wives: Extraordinary Story.

Oh, and recipe for jugged hare.

- Four wives... Hm.

Oh, I put this aside because it struck me as peculiar, although I don't suppose it's got anything to do with what we're looking for.

Let's have a look.

HE SIGHS Oh, it's one of those funny things, you know, what do you call them... Anagrams, or charades, or something.

"My first you put on glowing coal, "and into it you put my hole.

"My second really is the first, "my third dislikes the winter blast."

Hm.

Don't think much of the poet's rhyme.

Don't see what's so peculiar about it, though.

Everyone used to collect that sort of thing about 50 years ago.

Saved them up for an evening around the fire.

I wasn't referring to the verse.

It's the words below it that struck me as peculiar.

Look...

HE CLEARS THROAT ..Luke 11, Verse 9.

- It's a text.

- Yes, I know.

But doesn't that strike you as odd?

I mean... Would an old lady of a religious persuasion write a text just under a charade?

Yes, I suppose it is rather odd.

I suppose that you, being a clergyman's daughter, haven't got your Bible with you?

- As a matter of fact, I have.

- Ah.

Didn't expect that, did you?

HE CLEARS THROAT Now, let's see... Luke, Luke, Luke, Luke... TOMMY MUTTERING Chapter 11, verse 9.

7, 8, 9...

HE SIGHS Tommy!

Tommy, look!

"Seek and ye shall find."

That's it.

We've got it!

Oh, Tommy, isn't that wonderful?

Solve the cryptogram, and the treasure's ours.

HE LAUGHS TUPPENCE: Well, Monica's.

TOMMY: Well, let's get to work on this cryptogram, or whatever it is you call it.

VOICE DISTANT: Now... "My first you put on glowing coal..." What does that mean?

"And into it you put my whole."

It's pure gibberish.

TUPPENCE: It's quite simple, really.

It's just a knack, my love.

Give it to me.

PAPER RUSTLES My first you put on glowing coal...

Glowing coal...

Glowing... ..coal.

- Quite simple, really.

- Don't crow.

Just that I'm the wrong generation.

That's all.

I've a good mind to take it up to town tomorrow, let some old pussy have a go.

Probably solve it quick as a wink.

Perhaps you'd like to give it to Monica's mother, or downstairs to that old rag Crockett.

I bet she'll solve it in double quick time.

TOMMY: All right, come on.

Let's have another try.

There aren't many things you can put on glowing coal.

Water to put it out, wood.

Or... a kettle.

It has to be one syllable, I suppose.

How about wood, then?

Mm, couldn't put anything into wood, though.

There's no one-syllable word instead of water.

There must be one-syllable things you can put on a fire in the kettle line.

- Hm.

Saucepan.

Frying pan.

How about pan?

Or pot.

Think of a word beginning pan or pot that is something you can cook.

Pottery.

You can bake that on a fire.

Wouldn't that be near enough?

- No, no, the rest doesn't fit.

Pan... cakes.

Pancakes... Oh, no... Oh, bother!

Trouble is, I'm so hungry, I can hardly think.

You saying pancakes has rather brought it all back.

What a rotten dinner, or lack of it.

Minuscule strip of mutton, and one veg.

Swede, faithfully cooked to an old-school recipe.

No potatoes, no carrots, not even a Brussel sprout.

What's the matter, old bean?

That's it.

The word, I mean...

Potato.

My first you put on glowing coal, pot, and into it, you put my whole.

My second really is the first, that's "A".

Pot-A.

First letter of the alphabet.

My third dislikes the winter blast.

Cold toes.

Of course!

Potatoes!

Very clever.

Only trouble is, we've wasted an awful lot of time over nothing.

You see, potatoes don't fit in at all with missing treasure.

Wait a sec, though.

- "To keep new potatoes.

"Put the new potatoes in tins, and bury them in the garden.

"Even in the middle of winter, "they will taste as though freshly dug."

Tuppence, you're a miracle.

BOTH LAUGHING To think it's just out there, waiting for us to dig up!

Oh, yes!

Oh, yes, but not just now.

The morning will be soon enough.

Oh, but I'm much too excited to sleep now.

Oh, good.

SHE LAUGHS DISTANT LAUGHTER I don't understand why that gardener misled us so yesterday.

- Oh, he didn't mean to.

He just didn't answer you correctly, that's all.

- What are you talking about?

- Haven't you noticed?

People never answer what you say.

They answer what they think you mean, instead.

He knew he hadn't buried anything out of the ordinary.

Just potatoes.

Oh, come on.

SHE GASPS Tommy...

Someone appears to have been here already.

But how could they know?

Do you think they found the treasure?

Well, if they haven't, it was never here in the first place.

Goodness me, what long faces.

Was the bed in the dressing room so uncomfortable, Mr Blunt?

I bet you'll never guess what this is.

A note from Dr O'Neill.

He's increasing his offer by £150.

Is he, by Jove?

BELL RINGS Goodness me, Mother's bell.

Oh, look at the time, and I haven't taken her tray up yet.

She's got a Christmas card.

That'll buck her up, poor darling.

A ghost of a chance, Tuppence.

A ghost!

The race is on again, and this time, I mean us to win.

Hello...

Here comes our second piece of good luck today.

You know what to ask him.

Give him the treatment.

Off you go.

Head him off before he sees the kitchen garden and has a seizure.

Oh!

Mr Mulberry, good morning.

What a surprise.

I thought you only came once a week.

Ar, I just came for my box, my lady.

Box?

Oh, but I thought you said... No, no, no.

Not the kind of box you was asking about yesterday.

My Christmas box.

- Oh, of course.

Do you mind if I walk with you?

- No, I don't mind.

I'm just off down to see my vegetables.

Nothing quite like a Christmas dinner.

- Ar.

- Except, sometimes, I wish we could have different vegetables to the conventional sprouts and roasts.

New potatoes, now, wouldn't they be delicious with a turkey?

- Ar.

Do people around here ever bury them in tins?

I've heard that keeps them fresh.

Oh, that they do, M'Lady.

Old Miss Deane, she always had three tins buried every summer.

And as often as not forgot to have them dug up again.

Oh, in the... large bed in the kitchen garden, wasn't it?

No, no, no, M'Lady.

T'was just there, by that wall.

Oh... Mr Mulberry... What's the matter?

That's the wood.

I can't dig out there.

What's she up to?

Soon find out, won't we?

Got to tell someone, hasn't she?

SHE GASPS Tommy... Tommy, I found...

BOTH COUGH LAUGHTER Tommy, that was brilliant.

How did you discover it?

Monica said the curtains were always blowing outwards.

Normally, with an open window, the cold air would blow them inward.

I just noticed the central heating vent, and it all added up.

- Masterly.

Oh.

Thank you.

Anyway, what were you doing, getting poor old Mulberry pointing every which way?

You were watching?

Well, so was someone else.

At least, I'm pretty sure they were.

I suddenly got the most creepy feeling, so when he told me where he'd hidden the tins, I simply asked him where the sun rose, where it set, and whereabouts in the sky you could see the Plough.

Quick thinking, Tuppence.

Thanks.

When do you think it'll be safe to starting digging?

Not till after dark.

I intend to enlist reinforcements.

Monica's Gerald can stand lookout.

With the help of one other.

OWL HOOTING Surveillance, Mr Rush, that's our game.

Always the prelude to an exciting climax.

Did you see Lon Chaney in The Blackbird?

He was this Limehouse thief, you see.

Used a second identity, a cripple, to spy on the houses he was gonna burgle.

Anyway, one night after he'd killed a copper, he takes up his disguise as usual, finds his joints all lock, permanent.

It was so dramatic.

I'll never forget the look on his face...

I never knew digging could sound so loud.

TOMMY SIGHS - I say, Tommy... - What?

Out here at night, one could almost start to believe the stories about that house.

MAN GROANS TWIG SNAPS HE GASPS SHE EXHALES VIGOROUSLY WHISPERS: Tuppence!

HE GRUNTS SHE GASPS SHE EXHALES Go on digging.

MAN: You call out, you're a dead man.

BOX RATTLING SHE EXHALES - Ugh.

- Damn.

Third time lucky.

I believe the whole thing's a mare's nest.

HE SIGHS HE GRUNTS Thank you, Houdini.

ALBERT EXHALES BOX RATTLING, BOTH GRUNTING TOMMY: Potatoes... No, wait a minute, Tommy.

They're only potatoes on top.

Oh.

- D-Don't swing it about.

At last.

Open the loot, Mrs Beresford.

SHE CHUCKLES EXCITEDLY HE GASPS SOFTLY TOMMY: All she could get.

In gold, I suppose.

Open the other.

BOTH GASP There must be £20,000 at least.

- Shall I?

- Please do.

TUPPENCE: Oh!

TOMMY: I don't know much about these things, but they must be worth another £5,000 at least.

TUPPENCE: Oh, look at the size of them.

Now I know why that old lady kept the cutting about pearls being a good investment.

Oh, Tommy, isn't it wonderful?

Now Monica can marry her darling young man, and live happily every after just like... Not for much longer, Lady Grasmere.

The sound of a .12 bore going off around here will bring no-one running.

Now, we'll take the cash, please.

And the notes at my feet.

You'd better start digging, Mr Beresford, and make it a hole big enough for two.

My... Lady Grasmere, you're still holding the pearls.

HE TUTS Let me relieve you of them, won't you?

LEAVES RUSTLING, ALBERT SHOUTS Well done, Albert.

Tarzan the Ape Man.

Douglas Fairbanks in The Black Pirate.

Jolly good.

Now, fetch the police, will you?

Tuppence, the money.

Oh... Tuppence, if you really love me, will you answer me one question?

No, I hate these catches, but all right.

How did you know Monica Deane was a clergyman's daughter?

Oh, that was just cheating.

I opened her letter making an appointment.

A Mr Deane was Father's curate once, and he had a daughter called Monica, so I put two and two together, and just hoped for the best.

BOTH LAUGHING You're a shameless creature.

CLOCK CHIMES Hello.

12 o'clock striking.

Happy Christmas, Tuppence.

- Happy Christmas, Tommy.

And it'll be a happy Christmas for Monica, too, because... Oh, Monica, happy Christmas.

You look... Is poor Gerald all right?

Yes.

Oh, yes, thank you.

The police doctor said he must have a remarkably thick skull.

Your brave Albert is kindly driving him home.

H-He's just a little stunned, that's all.

And so am I. TUPPENCE: Has anything happened?

We're engaged.

Oh, Monica, that's wonderful!

Congratulations.

- First class.

Hold on.

I've got just the thing to celebrate this.

I found something in your cellar, Monica.

Good old Gerald, fancy popping the question after a bash on the head like that.

Shows stamina.

Come on, Monica, out with it.

SHE LAUGHS I might have known.

Well, it's just that Gerald didn't exactly pop it.

Not exactly?

I was so worried that when he learnt the full extent of my new means that... - He'd be frightened off?

His pride, you see.

He's so very masculine.

Yes, I had noticed.

So I rather took things into my own hands and... - Popped the question yourself?

- Actually, yes.

Was that too dreadful of me?

Of course not.

Very sensible.

If a girl sees what she wants, she should have it.

Oh!

Thank you.

SHE CHUCKLES BELL CHIMING Here we are.

Ice-cold, too.

Oh, your mother is ringing, Monica, but I don't think Crockett is going to answer for a good many years.

Yes, well, I'll just go and settle her down.

I shan't tell her my news tonight.

It would only over-excite her.

HE CHUCKLES You know, I admire that girl.

Hardly out from under the strain, yet able to take a decision on marriage.

Just like that.

- Remarkable.

Yes.

Still, you're two of a kind.

Daughters of clergymen.

I should recognise your qualities by now, unpredictable, loyal, practical... - Very determined.

And damned attractive.

Ooh!

TOMMY CHUCKLES Subtitles by accessibility@itv.com