♪ I never thought I need a dream... ♪ MORSE CODE BEEPING ♪ And he kissed me Good night... ♪ MUFFLED MUSIC CONTINUES IN BACKGROUND ♪ But here I am And there you are ♪ ♪ Love never felt so right... ♪ - Good night, Annie.

- Good night, Fi.

Oh, Annie, will you be going down the Bluebell tonight?

No, not tonight.

Tired.

- Early night?

- Eurgh.

Wish it WAS early.

FIONA: See you tomorrow.

RACE: Tonight's my lucky night, gentlemen.

Thank you all for turning up with your pockets full of donations to what I can assure you will be a very worthy cause.

TELEPHONE RINGS I will raise you.

Let me see.

What kind of folks do we think you've got?

Do you have the kind of daddy who will pay your debts?

Lieutenant Race.

Excuse me, chaps.

Race.

WHISPERS: You must come now.

RACE: 'Fiona, darling, I can't.'

I need 20 more minutes, sweetie.

It's a good night.

It's her, Colin.

She's taking something... RACE: 'Twenty minutes.

Then you've got me for a lifetime.'

You won't get rid of me.

- She's rolling... 'Fiona, listen.'

Twenty minutes, and then, we can celebrate.

Just wait.

Right, where were we?

DOOR CLOSES - Good night.

- Good night, ma'am.

KNOCKING ON DOOR DOOR CLOSES DOOR OPENS ANNABEL: Fiona!

Fiona, come here.

Fiona!

Fiona, come here.

Fiona!

Stop!

Come here.

GUN CLICKS ANNABEL: What are you doing?

I saw you!

I saw you take the papers.

- Come back with us.

- Get away!

ANNABEL: Stop!

Please!

Stop!

CAR HONKS, TYRES SCREECHING INDISTINCT YELLING GUN CLICKS CLOCK TICKING And so, madam, may I ask you a question?

You may, but I might not answer.

My mother told me it was rude to answer a question before six o'clock in the evening.

LAUGHTER Especially from Swedish gentleman, Herr Hjerson.

But I am FINNISH.

I wish you WOULD finish.

I'd like to go and get myself a drink.

LAUGHTER Do you not think that the murder of your husband... - Lipstick.

- The scarlet lipstick on his collar.

The Bible on his desk... - The Good Samaritan.

..open at the page of the Good Samaritan.

The word "revenge"... - Revenge.

..written in his blood on the blotter.

is littered with what we call in Finnish "puna silli".

Red herrings, madam.

POIROT SIGHS Red herrings.

APPLAUSE LAUGHTER - She's suspicious in my book.

- No, it's the vicar.

Never trust the vicar.

WOMAN: Isn't Ariadne Oliver clever?

I didn't think fiction was your thing, Poirot.

Oh, mon Dieu.

It is my friend, Colin.

But it has been so long.

- Good evening, sir.

How does your father, my good friend Colonel Race?

The old man's fine.

He's enjoying his retirement.

Another whisky for my young friend, s'il vous plait.

Thank you.

BELL RINGS MAN: Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.

RACE: I need your help, sir.

- But of course.

I realise that this meeting is not a coincidence.

I imagine that you sought me at my apartment and George, mon valet, told you where I could be found.

But, if I may, you have the appearance of such a one who has travelled this evening a great distance.

Ah.

Dover.

- Ah.

Can we talk after the final act?

I don't wanna ruin your enjoyment of the play.

Oh, no, no, for Poirot the play it is over.

But with my dear friend Madame Oliver, the puzzle it is not so intricate.

RACE CHUCKLES No, she is not in the same class as, er, par exemple, Monsieur Garry Gregson.

You are acquainted with his books?

Of course.

Let us find somewhere here to sit, and you'll permit me to help you, mon ami.

DISTANT LAUGHTER RACE: There's a girl in Dover.

- A-ha.

She works in one of those, er, secretarial bureaus.

You know, er, a typist place you ring in and hire a typist for an hour, or whatever you want.

And how does she call herself?

Sheila Webb.

Are you all right?

Ah, oui, oui.

Poirot, he listens.

Anyway, yesterday a very strange thing happened to Sheila Webb.

WOMAN: Four and six.

I only got them yesterday and the heel snaps off like a twig in a storm.

Sheila, have a look at this.

Four and six from Jolly's.

I strut off to lunch, and the heel snaps in a grate like a twig in a storm.

MARTINDALE: Aren't you typing up Mr Levine's manuscript, Nora?

Naked Love.

Yes, Miss Martindale.

Then, put your shoes away and get on with Naked Love.

Miss Webb, may I have a word?

"Desire had him in its grasp.

"With frenzied fingers he tore the fragile chiffon "from her breasts and bent her over the soap..." What?

I've had a call from Miss Pebmarsh.

She needs a stenographer for three o'clock.

She asked for you particularly.

Have you worked for her before?

I can't remember doing so, Miss Martindale.

19 Wilbraham Crescent.

I can't remember going there.

Well, it's you she asked for, for three.

Have you any other appointments?

Oh, yes...

..Professor Purdy at five at the Castle Hotel.

TELEPHONE RINGS Cavendish Secretarial Services.

One moment, please.

Sheila, Miss Pebmarsh said if she's not there, the door's not latched, you're to let yourself in and wait.

Good afternoon.

How may I help you?

RACE: 'So Sheila goes, 'and she really doesn't recognise the place.

'Wilbraham Crescent is one of those quiet streets 'away from the seafront 'where everyone keeps themselves to themselves.'

Hello?

Miss Pebmarsh?

Sheila Webb here, from Cavendish.

Miss Pebmarsh, if it's all right, I'm gonna sit in the front room.

WATCH TICKING CLOCK DINGS AND CUCKOOS PEBMARSH: Is somebody here?

Is... is somebody in my house?

There's somebody in this room.

Who are you?

Don't step on him.

He's dead!

You're going to step on him!

Who are you?

SHEILA SOBS, SCREAMS - Oh, please help me!

- What is it?

He's in there.

He's dead.

He's dead, and he's just lying there dead, stabbed on the floor.

- Who?

Calm down.

- In there!

- Someone's dead in there?

- Yes, please help me.

I will help you.

I will help you.

Are you saying there's a dead man lying in number 19?

- Yes.

- All right.

Well, let's go in.

- No, no, no.

Look, then, let me go in, and then I'll call the police.

- She's in there, too.

- Who?

Miss Pebmarsh.

Right, well, sit down and, er, breathe.

Stay here.

I will help you.

- Yes.

Miss Pebmarsh?

Who are you?

I'm Lieutenant Race.

I was passing by.

There's a dead man behind my sofa.

RACE: How did this happen?

- I don't know.

- Who is he?

- I don't know.

I live alone.

I came home from work.

There was a hysteric in the house.

She left screaming.

And I find a dead man behind the sofa.

You're very calm.

When you saw what I saw in the Great War, Lieutenant Race, you know a dead man is not something to be scared of.

If you will invite the young hysteric in, I'll make her a cup of sweet tea.

- I'll call the police.

- Very good.

POIROT: 'Who was this dead man?'

RACE: 'Well... 'it's much stranger than that, Poirot.'

Was he known to Mademoiselle Sheila Webb?

Apparently not.

No, I've never seen him before, Inspector.

And you're positive about that?

Miss Martindale said to come here for three o'clock and let myself in.

I then noticed the clocks, and I thought I might have got the wrong time.

And then, just before Miss Pebmarsh arrived, I noticed the man lying there.

Have you worked for Miss Pebmarsh before?

No... and that's the thing, sir.

She asked for me specially.

I don't know how she knew me.

Sir.

We can't find the murder weapon.

There's no knife.

HARDCASTLE: He's a "Mr RH Curry.

"Metropolitan and Provincial Insurance".

I don't know him.

Stay here.

I've never heard the name Curry, or the name of his firm.

Were you expecting ANY visitor today?

- No.

And I've never seen this man before.

HARDCASTLE: Take him away.

RACE: Just the typist you ordered.

I didn't order a typist.

What are you talking about?

- You didn't ring up the Cavendish Bureau at lunchtime today and ask for the services of Sheila Webb?

Certainly not.

And I've never heard of a Sheila Webb.

Where were you at lunchtime?

I work part-time at Mr Wright's photography studio on the parade.

Taking bookings.

Seeing people in.

Lunchtime can be quite busy.

And you didn't call the Cavendish Bureau?

No, young man, I did not.

I did my shift and returned home, as usual, just after three.

I wasn't late as I heard my cuckoo clock as I approached the door.

What about your other clocks?

Why were they all set to 13 minutes past four?

What "other clocks"?

Your four other clocks in the sitting room.

There are no four other clocks in the sitting room.

Just my cuckoo clock.

POIROT: Mademoiselle Pebmarsh... does she always keep unlocked her door?

You're thinking of her neighbours?

Oui.

RACE: 'They saw nothing.

On one side there's a cat lady, 'who literally could speak of nothing else.'

CATS MEOWING Tiddly-Pops likes chicken, and Copenhagen loves his kidneys.

Don't you, Copey?

RACE: 'On the other side, a brother and sister, academics, 'they saw nothing at all during lunchtime.

'At the back of the house, there's no access at all.'

And Mademoiselle Martindale?

It wasn't Miss Pebmarsh who rang me?

Did you take the call yourself?

Yes, at a quarter to two.

And I put her in the book.

POIROT: And these clocks... definitely, they do not belong to Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

That's what she says.

Eh, bien.

It is a puzzle.

But there is something else that puzzles Poirot.

You.

Why was Colin Race in Wilbraham Crescent at three o'clock yesterday afternoon, huh?

And why do the police permit that you should ask questions during the interviews?

And why is it that your eyes are inflamed with crying, my dear friend?

I have a commission in the Navy, but...

I'm...

I'm...

I'm MI6.

Under Dover Castle, ever since the Napoleonic Wars, there's been a series of tunnels.

We're in the process of turning them into a bomb-proof HQ where the Navy could police the Channel from were there to be a second war with Germany.

I've been trying to locate a German mole amongst the staff, and... three nights ago, I found her.

'Annabel Larkin.

'She was followed and she was killed.

'Along with the woman I loved.

'Fiona Hanbury.

'Who died because I wasn't there.

'Amongst Fiona's things, I found this.'

POIROT: A crescent.

The letter M 61.

I think it's a note as to where Fiona followed Larkin.

Where the contact was.

I checked out The Crescent pub and the half dozen Crescent Roads in Dover.

Yet, and you were checking out Wilbraham Crescent at the very instant that Sheila Webb, she runs out of number 19?

Yes, I was checking again.

It was closest to the scene of the accident... ..and I may sound crazy, but I don't believe it was a coincidence.

I believe the man dead in Wilbraham Crescent must be connected in some way to Annabel Larkin.

Possible.

I don't believe what the police are thinking.

That Sheila Webb is a murderer.

- I see.

RACE: She's the main suspect.

She was the one that found the body.

She's the one they can place alone in the house.

But I saw how scared she was when she ran out.

SHE SCREAMS Please help me!

RACE: 'I know she's not a murderer.'

I will.

I will help you.

And I will not let another girl down... because I was unable to help.

HAMLING: Good morning, gentlemen.

Well, it seems this is a time for cooperation between the Navy and the police, don't you agree?

We want to flush out what remains of this German cell in Dover.

Intelligence tells me it could well be connected with the murder of this insurance agent in... Where was it?

Wilbraham Crescent.

Erm, that hasn't been verified yet, Admiral.

It's not Wilbraham Crescent?

No, that he was an insurance agent.

Inspector, may I introduce you to Hercule Poirot, who Lieutenant Race has requested be brought in to help this investigation.

Well, I think we can...

I verified this with Whitehall and Scotland Yard and they tell me he's a private detective of excellent reputation and that we're lucky to have him on board.

If that's what I have to work with, THAT'S what I work with.

Any ideas, Mr Poirot, just pop 'em in the pot.

- Merci.

It seems that if we solve one of our problems here, we'll solve the other.

Monsieur, may I have a word?

- Admiral.

Inspector.

HAMLING: I remember your days from the Belgian police force.

Or at least your reputation.

When did you leave?

- After the Great War.

Yes.

Do you know what they called this stretch of the Channel during the war?

- Hellfire Corner.

- And it will be again.

Because there will be a second war, Poirot.

And if Germany invades... ..this is where they'll come.

What was stolen the other night were the plans of our minefields between here and France.

It is essential those plans are recovered before they leave these shores.

If Hitler sees them, then the front door of England will be wide open.

You'll find us very organised here, Mr Poirot, very thorough.

Only last year, we dealt with the suspicious death of a taxi driver, and Scotland Yard made a point of admiring our attention to detail.

Evidence, as you see, is documented in a system of my own devising.

The prime suspect has her own board, as does the victim, where we will build up detailed profiles.

But for me, the key is this diagram here.

The key phrase for my investigation is, "Someone will have seen something."

Oui, c'est tres bien ca.

HARDCASTLE: As you can see, from the unusual design of the street, it is actually a crescent that doubles back on itself, Mr Poirot.

Oui.

All of them knew, Miss Pebmarsh, she had a set routine, and the house would be empty in the middle of the day.

Uh-huh.

And who lives opposite Mademoiselle Pebmarsh at number 61?

- Mr and Mrs Bland.

- A Monsieur Bland?

Already that arouses my suspicion.

Oh, no, no, no, he's a good man.

Built my mother-in-law a fireplace.

- Ah.

I had London run a check on him straight away, sir.

He's as clean as a whistle.

And the murder weapon, it has been recovered?

Er, no.

No.

And there was no sign of a struggle in the house of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

Absolutely not.

I would like to interview the neighbours, if I may.

Already done.

There are the statements.

Non.

Poirot would like to ask questions of his own.

- Yes.

Already done it.

- Non.

I would like to ask questions of my own, Inspector Hardcastle.

Of course, you would.

Of course.

And these are the clocks?

Yeah, we're on the sniff to find out where and when they were purchased.

Erm... Dresden china clock.

A French thing... - Ormolu.

And, er, a silver carriage.

Where is the fourth clock?

There were only three clocks, sir.

Unless you count the cuckoo clock.

Non, non, non, I do not count the cuckoo.

There was a fourth clock, a travelling clock.

And on it the name "Rosemary".

- That's right.

Don't tell me we've lost a clock, for goodness' sake!

When I boxed the evidence, sir, there were DEFINITELY only three clocks in that room.

SHEILA: Of course, I remember the "Rosemary" clock.

Have the police lost it?

POIROT: Perhaps.

Perhaps it is stolen.

- Why?

I do not know, mademoiselle.

I cannot think it would be of any value.

No, it was a shabby thing.

The ormolu was pretty, though.

POIROT: Oui, oui.

Thank you.

Non, non, non.

Merci.

I'll have them both, then.

SHE CHUCKLES POIROT: Mademoiselle, the Lieutenant Race has told to me that these last few days have been for you quite an ordeal.

Yes.

It's not the shock of seeing a dead man.

That passes.

It's the terrible suspicion the police have... Did you see that board he had up, Poirot?

He had nothing on it.

No evidence.

Nothing.

Have you told to the police the truth in everything, mademoiselle?

Of course, sir.

Then you have no need to worry.

I need to get back to work.

POIROT: And so should we.

Will you be all right getting back, Miss Webb?

Yes, I'll be fine.

Thank you.

POIROT: Mademoiselle?

Do you know what means the name Rosemary?

No.

It means "remembrance".

Oh.

Remembrance.

SHE CHUCKLES Goodbye.

- Au revoir.

Merci.

I saw and heard nothing on the day of the murder until I heard the girl scream.

Tiddly-Pops was having one of his turns, you see, and I was singing to him to calm him down.

CAT MEOWS You seem a bit agitated yourself, monsieur.

Shall I sing to you?

Oh, non, non, non, merci, madame.

Tell to me, if you please, do you have much contact with Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

Oh, no, no, she keeps herself to herself and does terribly well for a blindy.

I see her pass by the window to and from the photographic studio, regular as clockwork.

I think, if she were a cat... ..she'd be one of TS Eliot's practical cats, don't you?

Oui.

POIROT SNEEZES Pardon, madame, do you think I might possibly see your garden and so remove myself from here?

Oh, yes, yes.

Have you realised that if you write "TS Eliot" backwards, it spells toilets?

Well, almost.

Copenhagen pointed that out to me.

Didn't you, Copey?

The bane of our neighbourhood are the Mabbutts.

Number 62.

He has girls with catapults.

In fact, I heard Miss Pebmarsh have hard words with Mr Mabbutt just the other evening about their behaviour.

May I ask... was there any connection between the murdered man and Miss Pebmarsh, Lieutenant?

I believe not.

Oh.

That's unusual, too.

So he just came there to be killed, did he?

RACHEL: Miss Pebmarsh is as quiet as a church mouse, isn't she, Matthew?

- Yes.

- We hear neither hide nor hair.

We told the other inspector this.

I don't know why we're being asked again.

She would have left her house at 11 on the day of the murder and got back at three.

Yes, well, that's her routine.

I'm sure everyone knows that.

And it is during that time that Monsieur Curry would have entered the house and met his death.

Tell to me if you please, before the girl screamed, did you hear perhaps any sound of a struggle?

We don't know this man, and our studies are at the back of the house, Lieutenant.

We're academics, you see.

RACHEL: Neither my brother nor I heard anything during luncheon.

We like this street because it's quiet also.

Yes, the only trouble we've had is that Mrs Hemmings.

The cat lady?

She might play the scatty old dear, Lieutenant, but scratch the surface, and she's a poisonous old bitch, believe me.

Rachel, we must get back to work.

Yes.

Good day, gentlemen.

- Good day, madame.

MATTHEW: Good day.

Well, it's like every other street in England.

Full of people who keep themselves to themselves while hating each other at the same time.

You should know, we've had a, erm, well, I was going to say a breakthrough, but actually, it's the opposite.

The name Curry has turned out to be bogus, and the Metropolitan and Provincial Insurance Company does not and never has existed.

Was there anything else found on the dead man?

Er... Labels on his clothes or a wallet?

All the labels were cut out.

We have no idea at all who he is.

This is most extraordinary.

Can I tag along with you for a while?

Someone will have seen something, remember.

Yes, of course.

Er, bien.

Now we go en arriere, to the rear, to a Monsieur and Madame Bland.

I don't recognise him, no.

Do you, Joe?

No, I wish I did.

And we've never had anything to do with the blind lady.

You read about these murders, don't you?

Jack The Ripper, Brides In The Bath Smith, and you think, "If only I'd been there, "seen something, stopped it in some way.

"Or, if I couldn't stop it, at least... "been useful to the police afterwards."

Now there's one in our neighbourhood, and we didn't look out the window at the right time.

Well, you'll often find there's an element of luck in police work.

Witnesses looking out of windows at the right time and... Well, that's it, it's luck.

It's like... like falling in love.

It's just lucky that you were there on that night, and she was there.

It was luck that brought you together.

And where is it that you met your husband, Madame Bland?

Well, she was an actress, weren't you?

I was... quite low at the time.

And, er, it just so happened that Valerie was playing The Mikado in Dover, weren't you?

We'd always go to the same pub after the show.

JOE: I went there just to get out of the house, and, well... luck struck.

C'est formidable.

This is all very lovely, but if we can get back to the investigation, why weren't you working on the day of the murder?

Oh, well, I'm almost retired now, Hardcastle.

JOE CHUCKLES I've still got the van just to keep my hand in, but Valerie inherited, er... Well... - A little bit of cash.

Well, a lot, actually... JOE LAUGHS ..from her Canadian family.

Pardon.

You are from Canada, madame?

Well, I haven't lived there for... What is it?

Oh, well, it must be nearly 20 years.

Is it 20?

Yes, and, er, she lost her accent when she went to drama school.

Ah.

With the money...

I don't have to work.

RACE: That's a bit of luck.

- Luck again!

It's everywhere.

- Luck struck.

- Yes, luck struck, you see.

Although, it didn't strike for this poor fellow.

MABBUTT: It's a pity the Blands weren't murdered, don't you think?

Or the entire neighbourhood.

That cat woman struggles for a reason to exist if you ask me.

Pebmarsh lives in a nether world all of her own.

And those Waterhouses are a bit too quiet, a bit too hush-hush if you know what I mean.

No, I don't know the deceased, sorry.

POIROT: I do not know what you mean, Monsieur Mabbutt.

I don't trust people who read or write books, Monsieur Poirot.

Never have.

Folks like that got the world into this mess.

Were you here at lunchtime on the day of the murder?

I was, which is unusual.

I'm often away in the week and leave everything to the nanny.

My wife has passed on.

I work for Armstrong Ordnance.

We have contracts with the French.

I spend most weeks over there.

Your country is as badly prepared for war as ours is, Poirot.

- I'm Belgian.

Not French.

- Are you, now?

- Oui.

- A Walloon.

Well... Belgium won't last a week if it all goes belly up, will it?

Have you been visited by anyone selling insurance in the last week?

I told your constable all this.

No.

And I didn't hear sounds of a struggle or some such either.

Can I show you some pictures of some clocks?

I've left them inside.

Will you accompany me?

What do I have to look at clocks for?

To see if you recognise them, sir.

They're central to the murder.

Very well.

If I must.

I would get your contacts to investigate that man, mon ami.

I'm on it.

Yes... regular trips to the continent.

It's normally what we'd look for.

But he's helping arm the French.

He's hardly pro-German.

The "M" on the note of Mademoiselle Fiona's could be Mabbutt.

Mabbutt lives in number 62, Poirot, not 61.

Oui.

That is true.

I'll check on the Blands' finances as well.

Make sure they got that windfall the way they say they did, and it's not been channelled from some continental bank.

Non.

GIRLS GIGGLE Is that the garden of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

Are you trying to work out who killed that man?

- Oui.

Were you playing here on the day that he died, mademoiselle?

Our nanny grounded us for two days.

We kept hitting the cats.

- Ah.

So she kept us in, and we missed all the fun.

Alors, you call yourself Mademoiselle Jenny?

And how do you call yourself, mademoiselle?

- May.

- And how do you call yourself?

- Hercule Poirot.

That's not a name, it's a noise.

Alors, Mademoiselle Jenny and Mademoiselle May... ..will you help Poirot?

Merci.

I've been through this with the police already, Monsieur Poirot.

Oui, mademoiselle.

And I did not make that call requesting the services of Sheila Webb.

Have you ever used a secretary from the Cavendish Bureau?

I may have lost my sight in the last 15 years, monsieur, but I have not lost my self-sufficiency.

Have you ever had any dealings with the bureau?

Well, I know where it is on the parade.

I pass it every day.

Some of the secretaries may have been in for portraits with their sweethearts, but apart from that...

Your Monsieur Wright is an artist most fine.

I believe he is... yes.

One of the clocks found in your house has gone missing, Miss Pebmarsh.

A small travelling clock with the word "Rosemary" engraved on...

If I may, Inspector.

Mademoiselle Pebmarsh, would you tell to me, please...

Your glaucoma... is it hereditary or brought on by the trauma?

I drove an ambulance in your neck of the woods during the war, monsieur, and was temporarily blinded by the blast of a shell.

I regained my sight, only for it to... gradually deteriorate.

My sympathies.

I don't seek sympathy, monsieur.

Non.

Miss Martindale is this way, gentlemen, but do watch your step.

There's half-finished romances lying all over the place in here, isn't there, girls?

Oh!

Tomorrow's inquest, Inspector... HARDCASTLE: Yes?

NORA: How early would you recommend we get there?

Only, we're all terribly excited, and we wouldn't want to end up with seats at the back.

It's not a football match, Nora.

An inquest is a serious legal procedure.

Oh, I know.

It's like a public hanging.

I'm sorry, gentlemen.

Please come in.

May I introduce Hercule Poirot.

- All right.

- Enchante, mademoiselle.

Merci.

I typed up a bodice ripper last year about a public hanging.

And it was so thrilling.

Well, you'd wonder... - Yes.

Thank you, Nora.

Miss Martindale, would you again go over the events of the phone call from someone purporting to be Miss Pebmarsh.

MARTINDALE: Yes.

Yes, I was sitting here when the call came through.

I made a note in the book, and then I... POIROT: Mademoiselle?

If I may ask, did you do the typing for Garry Gregson?

Yes.

Yes, I was his private secretary.

I set up the bureau with the money he left me after he died.

But I am a reader most admiring, mademoiselle.

- Oh.

I still manage his estate.

All of his papers are here, published and unpublished.

POIROT: Bachelors In Peril.

MARTINDALE: Mm.

Certainly one of his best.

- For goodness' sake.

A puzzle most intriguing... but it did not confuse Poirot.

MARTINDALE: Hmm?

The Train At The Station.

POIROT: Ah, oui.

The hair of the moustache on the cocktail glass, huh?

The three pairs of shoes, size six... all designed to throw one off the scent, huh?

But not Hercule Poirot.

Is there any chance we can get back to the real police work here?

- How's your afternoon?

- Miserable.

Miss Martindale is as suspicious of me as the policeman.

Has your funny little friend found out who did it yet?

But if you ask me, Pebmarsh could easily be lying about not making that phone call.

- What I've been thinking.

- The body was in her house.

She could have pinched that clock.

Whoever stole it must be connected because... What are you doing this evening?

- Avoiding people.

- Yep.

Me, too.

I've got to go back to the castle but after, would you... Do you want to avoid meeting people together?

- Yes.

- Good.

"How did you become blind?"

"Where did you fall in love?"

"What's your favourite Garry Gregson novel?"

What on earth have these got to do with the investigation?

- Probably nothing.

- So why ask them?

- To gather information.

- What information?

Police work is facts, alibis, evidence, not gossip.

How did any case get solved in Belgium while YOU were in charge?

Through the listening, through observation.

And every case, it was solved, I can assure you.

Mademoiselle.

It's been a long day, I'm sorry.

Can I give you a lift to your hotel?

Ah, oui, merci, but is there a hotel that you would recommend, Inspector?

Because I have not had the time to make the reservation and also, I must telephone to George, mon valet, for my valise.

Yes, I know a good one.

The Travellers.

I'll stand you a drink.

You coming?

- Can you drop me at the castle?

HARDCASTLE: Of course.

You're in for a treat, Mr Poirot.

We'll get a missing person's campaign out on Curry.

Pictures in the paper, bobbies at the train station, the whole works.

Someone will have seen something.

Oui.

Inspector, this bar, does it have a menu for the cocktails?

That's the finest brew on the south coast, mate.

The key now is to find the identity of the murdered man.

Is this the best hotel in Dover?

Yeah, let's line a few more of these up, shall we?

Terry?

RACE LAUGHS SHEILA: What are you laughing about?

RACE: That Poirot.

I left him at the Travellers Inn looking like petit fours in a chip shop.

He's trying to keep it in, but he's having 40 fits at the thought of having to stay there.

SHEILA LAUGHS It's nice to see you laugh.

Will you tell me about the girl who died?

Fiona?

Fiona.

And then, will you tell me about you?

INDISTINCT CHATTER Sir.

Hello?

Is that the Castle Hotel?

MAN TALKING INDISTINCTLY ON TELEPHONE Bon.

I wonder do you have available, for a few days, a suite?

Oui.

Hercule Poirot.

Non, non, non, Hercule... Oui.

Poir... That will do.

Merci.

HARDCASTLE: I'm telling you, Mr Poirot, Sheila Webb made that call to Martindale.

But there is no reason why she would.

There is no evidence.

There is that.

But in my gut, I think once we have the evidence, it will point to her.

But do you not think, as does the Admiral Hamling, that the murder is connected in some way to the theft of documents?

MAN INDISTINCT ON TELEPHONE Ah, oui.

Merci.

A bientot.

Merci, monsieur.

No, I don't.

That's Navy talk.

They think everything's related to the "coming war".

There'll be no war.

But I think the man will have a link to Sheila Webb.

She arranged to meet him there and killed him.

But with what motive, Inspector?

The clocks and the four-thirteen and the Rosemary will all come back to her.

I've seen girls like that before, and they're manipulative.

And let's see how she does under pressure at the inquest tomorrow.

SHEILA: I'm adopted.

I have no-one.

I was adopted by an elderly couple who had no children of their own.

And... Well, they're dead now.

It's times like this I long to have a family to go home to.

Do you have a sweetheart?

No.

Damaged goods.

- I don't think so.

SHE INHALES You talk of Fiona in a way I don't think anyone has ever talked of me.

That's nice.

This is nice, Colin.

RACHEL: Aargh!

MATTHEW: What is it?

SHE SPEAKS IN GERMAN HE SPEAKS ANGRILY IN GERMAN BOTH SPEAK GERMAN HE SCOFFS How do I look?

Is this too red?

I don't want to appear a dubious character.

Plain-clothed detectives will be eyeing the crowd, surreptitiously looking for giveaway signs.

At least, that's what happened in Garry Gregson's Dusty Death.

Do you remember that?

MARTINDALE: Nora, yes, I do.

NORA: That's how they caught the murderer.

Gave himself away with a nervous twitch.

Will you elbow me if I start twitching involuntarily, Miss Martindale?

I'm worried about twitching involuntarily.

Used to be a habit of my mother's.

Have you polished my new brogues, Valerie?

Have you polished my brogues?

I'm sorry.

I...

I do not want to miss a word of this inquest.

- By the back door.

- Thank you.

I don't want to go, Joe.

Get your coat on.

Just get it on.

Come on, girls.

Best seats in the house.

- Sheila.

- Hmm?

Oh.

- It'll be all right.

- Oh, don't.

Don't.

What's wrong?

It'll be fine.

They're very dry inquests.

You just rattle the facts out.

This arrived for me this morning.

I received the call from a Miss Pebmarsh at about a quarter to two during the lunch hour.

She was most particular in requesting the services of my employee, Miss Sheila Webb.

I made a note in the book.

And then, I checked Miss Webb's other appointments for that afternoon.

I wasn't the one who made the call to the Cavendish Bureau, I assure you.

I merely arrived home from work just after three o'clock and found a young lady in my front room suffering from a fit of hysterics.

She ran out of the house... and then I discovered the body behind the sofa.

SHEILA: I spent my lunch break alone... ..in the little cafe on the corner of the parade, and I must have got back at about quarter past two and left immediately for Wilbraham Crescent.

I entered the house, as instructed... ..and noticed all the clocks in the sitting room were... well, they were wrong.

SHE SIGHS This threw me a little, and I-I checked my own wristwatch.

And then...

I saw the legs of a dead man I didn't recognise sticking out from behind the sofa.

If it pleases the court, I'd like to read a statement from the report of the police surgeon, which has been handed to me.

"After a thorough examination "of the contents of the deceased's stomach, "I conclude that he had not had lunch, but had had a drink.

"And that the drink had been spiked with chloral hydrate."

A process known as a "Mickey Finn", Your Honour.

He'd been drugged before he'd been stabbed.

Would you like to come and have a cup of tea, dear?

No, thank you.

VAL: It must have been a terrible shock.

Well, if you'd like a cup of tea, my name's Val and we're at number 61.

Thank you.

How long before he was stabbed was our Monsieur Curry drugged with the chloral hydrate?

The surgeon says the effects of the drug can last up to four hours.

So he was almost certainly drugged at another location... ..and then taken to number 19 Wilbraham Crescent.

Let's talk back at the station.

Inspector Mr Hardcastle?

It was exactly as was said by Madame Hemmings.

"He just came here to be killed."

NORA: Inspector?

- What is it, miss?

I'd like to speak to him.

He's going back to the station.

Contact him there.

- But I don't see how... - Thank you.

..what she said could possibly be true.

If Curry was killed in a different location, that puts Pebmarsh back in the frame.

Not at all.

Even a blind woman can stab a drugged man in the heart.

The time of his death is estimated between two and three o'clock.

And I have literally millions of witnesses who saw her at the photographic studio during that time.

I exaggerate through excitement, obviously, but Sheila Webb arrives there... What do you think to this, Poirot?

For a booking she's made herself by ringing Martindale, stabs the fellow, raises the alarm.

You didn't see how scared she was when she came out of that house, Hardcastle.

- Didn't I?

- She's been set up every step of the way.

Look at this.

"Remember four-thirteen."

Someone is definitely putting the frights on her.

- Inspector.

The only thing missing is that it's not written in blood.

CONSTABLE: Inspector, a Nora Brent one the phone regarding the inquest.

And, erm, we have someone who has an identification of the dead man.

- Tell her to ring back later.

Ah, Mr Bland, please come in.

CONSTABLE: The Inspector's busy at the moment.

I need to speak to him.

Because what she said couldn't possibly be true.

She was lying at the inquest, you see.

'I'm sorry, madam.

'But it's just not possible at the moment.'

I'm going to come round!

JOE: I've seen this man before.

I didn't know it, but then, I saw the girl at the inquest.

- Which girl was this?

- The girl Sheila Webb.

Now, I'd definitely seen her before.

It was like having a sixth sense of deja vu, which is a feeling I'd not previously experienced.

Where had you seen the Mademoiselle Webb?

Well, Mrs Bland and I were at the fine art fair at the Castle Hotel.

Now that our pockets are a little deeper, Hardcastle, we get invited to things like that.

And, er, Sheila Webb was walking through the foyer, having come from upstairs, with a man.

JOE CHUCKLES This man.

- When was this?

- The day before the murder.

- Are you sure?

- Of course, he's sure, Lieutenant Race.

It's not everyone whose judgment has melted in the face of a pretty girl.

What are you suggesting?

Thank you for coming, Mr Bland.

I am questioning your ability to think professionally about a young woman you were seen kissing moments before the coroner's inquest.

Shall we go and talk to her?

Jenkins, we need to get down to the parade and find Miss Sheila Webb.

You think she did it, don't you?

At this point in time, Poirot, he rules out nothing.

Oh, doesn't he?

Well, I know she isn't involved.

I know she's a good person who needs our help.

The world is full of good people who do bad things, mon ami.

MAN: So where are you going to go?

SHEILA: I don't have anywhere TO go.

I don't know what I'm going to do!

Don't touch me!

DOOR OPENS SHEILA BREATHES HEAVILY MAN: Sheila.

Come back inside.

I don't want you to follow me because this all stops now.

- Come back inside.

- Do you understand?

Come back inside, Sheila.

Come on.

Calm down.

WOMAN: We were just walking past.

We looked inside the box, and there she was!

MARTINDALE SCREAMS INDISTINCT YELLING CONSTABLE: It's Nora Brent, sir.

She was trying to talk to you earlier.

Will someone please get them to stop hurting my girls.

Will you get it to stop!

INAUDIBLE CONVERSATION HARDCASTLE: Using her exact words, what did Nora Brent say to you, Constable?

She said she couldn't see how what she said could be true.

That she was lying at the inquest.

- And this is Sheila Webb?

- I believe so.

But she didn't mention her name?

Constable Jenkins, are you absolutely certain that those were her exact words?

It is VERY important.

- I'm sure, yes.

I-I think so.

It... it was busy.

Everyone was on their way out.

Miss Martindale, Sheila Webb was seen with the dead man at the Castle Hotel a day before the murder.

- The Castle Hotel?

That would be during working hours.

Did she have an appointment there?

Oh, well... She often has an appointment there.

She had a regular client... ..who resides at the Castle Hotel.

And I use the word "client" with all its meaning, sir.

Sheila Webb has a habit of inappropriate familiarity with some of our male clients, a Professor Purdy especially, who resides at the Castle Hotel and who requests her services at least once a week.

He's bought her gifts, I believe.

Perhaps you've noticed a silver wristwatch, which a girl like Sheila couldn't possibly afford.

Oui, mademoiselle.

I would not be at all surprised to hear that she had been seen with other gentlemen at the Castle Hotel.

That's a disgraceful insinuation.

HARDCASTLE: Is it, Lieutenant?

Surely, you've been aware of the effect Sheila Webb has on a certain type of man.

Tell me if you please, has Mademoiselle Sheila Webb or Mademoiselle Nora Brent ever worked on the estate of Garry Gregson?

Not again!

Who cares about Garry-ruddy-Gregson?

Can't you see the case that is building in front of you here?

No, monsieur.

I deal with all matters Gregson.

Merci, mademoiselle.

HARDCASTLE SIGHS Come on.

Where is it that you go, Inspector?

To show the dead man's photograph to the Castle staff.

- Ah.

- Are you coming?

- Non.

- No?

- Non.

I don't even begin to understand you, Poirot.

MAN: Evening, sir.

- Evening.

HAMLING: What news have you got for me, Race?

Well, I ran checks on the residents and neighbours of 61 Wilbraham Crescent, as well as I can, and there seems to be... - And what did you find?

Not much, if the truth be told.

The Blands have come into money, but as you can see from these bank transactions, it's genuinely an inheritance from Canada.

Colin Mabbutt next door is of interest to us because he travels extensively on the continent.

Yes, Mabbutt works for Armstrong Ordnance, doesn't he, who supply the French army with weapons.

- He does.

So not your usual German spy.

No.

- Anything else?

- Not as yet.

Does this second murder on the parade have anything to do with Wilbraham Crescent?

- Yes.

- In what way?

I-I don't know.

You don't know much, do you, Lieutenant?

Does Poirot?

- Not yet.

Maybe this business in Wilbraham Crescent has nothing to do with the leak and Fiona Hanbury's death.

Maybe you're wrong, Lieutenant.

I don't think so, sir.

Well, you have one more day, and then I'll bring in other agents.

Do you understand?

FIONA: Is that mine?

Yes.

Where did you find it?

I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.

What do you mean?

On the night you died.

Let me get my hat and my coat.

Let's go down the Bluebell, and then let's go to my house.

All right?

- All right.

Stay here.

HARDCASTLE: Do you recognise him?

Has he been in the hotel any time in the past week?

WOMAN: I don't think so.

HARDCASTLE: Possibly accompanied by a young lady, a Miss Sheila Webb.

I cannot believe that poor girl was murdered in broad daylight, where anyone could have seen.

It sounds a most desperate crime.

Oui.

Most desperate, indeed.

Tell to me if you please.

After the inquest... ..did Mademoiselle Nora Brent say anything to you?

No.

Why would she?

So you did not know her at all?

She had not made perhaps a visit to the studio here with a sweetheart?

I don't recognise the name, but it's possible.

Appointments are usually made in the man's name.

- Ah.

- Well, you're welcome to look.

Mr Wright keeps copies of every photograph he's ever taken, and he's been here over 30 years.

Oh, merci, mademoiselle.

But I do not think that will be necessary.

Does Monsieur Wright develop his own portraits?

Oh, yes, he does everything here.

If he sends it out to a lab, the results are never as professional.

Oui, d'accord.

Ah, Pebmarsh.

So you have had taken your own portrait?

No, monsieur.

These are my sons.

They passed through here during the war and sent a portrait back to me.

They are most handsome.

Yes, they were.

They were.

I volunteered for service after I lost them and then, after the war, came here.

And it pains me to think, monsieur... that if this peace does not hold, there will soon be another generation of boys in these files... who send photos back to their parents... ..but never get home.

SHEILA: Oh.

Hello.

RACE: Where have you been?

Can I be with you tonight?

Ah, Poirot, just in time to help.

We've had over 200 responses to the picture of the dead man in the paper.

We're cross-referencing them to see if the same name keeps coming up or the photograph fits.

Could they not identify him at the Castle Hotel?

No, nothing.

They knew Sheila Webb and Professor Purdy, but I think the Blands must have seen them and got mistaken.

Too eager to help.

Do you agree?

- No.

I do not think it is important WHO he is... but who he IS.

Right, well, I'm not going to rise to that one.

- Bonsoir.

- Oh, the clocks, Poirot.

All bought from the same stall in Deal market within the last month.

No ID on the buyer, though.

All bought there except the... - ..the Rosemary clock.

Yes.

The Rosemary.

Just as I thought.

Thank you, Inspector.

"It's not important who he is, but who he IS."

"Not important who he is, but who he IS."

Anyone understand that?

CLOCK TICKING Most extraordinary.

Forgive me, but unless I am mistaken... ..you must be Professor Purdy?

Where did you go after the inquest?

SHE SIGHS I want the truth.

SHE SIGHS For a walk on the front.

It could have easily been me who made the call to Miss Pebmarsh.

Easily me who killed that man.

I could've done it all.

I mean, there's no proof that it wasn't.

I just needed time to think what to do.

But, when I made my way back to work...

..I saw Nora was dead.

I knew I'd be blamed for that as well.

I left Dover this afternoon and wasn't going to come back... ..which would have been bad.

- Yes, it would.

You need to see the police and clear your name.

Yes, I know.

You believe I'm innocent, don't you?

You believe it wasn't me.

I'm going to get us both a drink.

There's glasses in the kitchenette.

SHEILA: These small ones?

Yes.

When did you get this?

- I... - When did you get it?

- Colin, I... - I'm taking you with me to the police station now.

Now.

Where did you get the murder weapon?

All right.

Where did you get the clock?

Unless I am mistaken, Inspector, Mademoiselle Webb received the clock when she was a child... ..for her birthday.

Or was it Christmas, perhaps?

SHEILA: When I was born.

The home told me it was a gift from my mother... ..who I never knew.

What are you talking about?

POIROT: Rosemary is the first name of Mademoiselle Webb, is that not so?

Mademoiselle RS Webb.

Yes.

POIROT: Rosemary Sheila.

And yet you choose to use your second name, non?

HARDCASTLE: May I continue?

- Oui.

Bien sur.

Pardon.

If the clock was yours, what was it doing at Miss Pebmarsh's house?

She does not know, Inspector, which is why she stole it.

SHE EXHALES SPRING RATTLING, POIROT MUMBLES The spring, it is broken, n'est ce pas?

So it is possible that a few weeks previously you took it to the jewellers to have it repaired?

And then, what, you lost it?

And the next time you see it, it is at number 19 Wilbraham Crescent.

'And there is there a dead man.

'The police, they are everywhere.'

And so you think to yourself, "Why is someone trying to frame me for murder?"

And then you notice that all the clocks, they spell four-thirteen, the number of the very room in the hotel, where, in your loneliness, you have begun a love affair with a man who does not care for you.

And so you think to yourself, "Why is someone trying to expose my shame?"

You do not know.

And the knife?

I suspect that you have never seen this before, or else, almost certainly, you would have got rid of it.

Inspector, may I ask a question?

Of course.

Will you be answering it as well?

Mademoiselle... when you returned from lunch on the day of the murder, Mademoiselle Nora Brent, what was she doing?

- Talking.

Nora was always talking.

- About what?

I strut off to lunch.

The heel snaps in a grate like a twig in a storm.

So now we make the progress.

And in which grate was it did Mademoiselle Nora Brent break her shoe?

Yes, which was it?

Let's bring the grate in for questioning.

Shall we?

- Inspector, as you told to me only yesterday, cannot you see the case that is building in front of you?

Not the case about the grate, no.

I don't know which grate it was, sir.

CONSTABLE CLEARS THROAT She's here, Inspector.

Who's here?

One name came up five times in response to the newspapers.

Then, the dead man's widow rings up and says she wants to come in to identify the body.

His name's Harry Castleton.

Put this one back in her cell, Constable.

This is far from over.

That's him.

That's Harry.

When's the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Castleton?

Fifteen years ago.

And he wasn't much of a husband.

I don't even know if Castleton was his real name.

He said he was in insurance.

But that was just a ruse so that he could travel around and run scams on lonely women.

I gave him the heave-ho when I discovered that he was engaged to that... A schoolteacher she was.

But by then, he had taken me for all my savings.

Did your husband have any distinguishing marks?

No.

Yes, he did.

Erm, behind his left ear.

He cut himself shaving once.

Made a terrible mess in the sink.

Thank you for coming, Mrs Castleton.

I don't use that name now.

My name is Rival.

Merlina Rival.

It was my stage name before I ever met my husband, and I reverted to it the moment he disappeared.

This murder gets more complicated by the minute.

Mais oui.

Which can only mean one thing, mon ami.

The solution... it must be very simple.

Where are you going?

Erm, I feel it is necessary to speak once again to the cat lady.

Madame Hemmings.

Why?

MRS HEMMINGS: What an excitement, everybody.

The big French Tom's paying us another visit.

- I am Belgian, madame.

- Please sit yourself down.

Although you might find the sofa a little damp.

Tiddly-Pops is sometimes tiddly by name as well as by nature.

Would you like me to fold up - Er... a bath towel and put it on the seat?

The dampness takes time to seep through, then, I find.

Madame, you told to me that in the garden the other evening... you overheard hard words pass between Monsieur Mabbutt and Mademoiselle Pebmarsh.

- Yes.

- Why was that unusual?

Well, because he's never there.

And when he is, he's very polite, a lovely man.

It's the bad-tempered nanny everyone usually has ding-dongs with.

Can you remember what was said?

Well, you were there, weren't you, Copey?

PEBMARSH: We need to do it now, Mr Mabbutt.

MABBUTT: Not with them swarming all over the place, no.

PEBMARSH: It will all be wasted if we don't act now.

She was talking about her plants, I imagine, the way those girls trample all over them.

This discussion, did it take place the evening after the body was discovered in the sitting room of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

No, it was Wednesday because we'd all just enjoyed Band Wagon on the wireless.

But it was Wednesday that the body was discovered.

No, Tuesday, thank you, yes, because I noticed the laundry van pull up to her house at lunchtime.

The laundry always arrives on Tuesday.

VAL: Monsieur, hello.

Hello.

Hello.

- Mrs Bland.

- Ah, Madame Bland!

I hear on the jungle drums that you've identified the dead man?

Well, shall we say the police, they are confident.

- That's wonderful.

- Yes, indeed.

Oh, tell to me if you please, madame, from where in Canada are you?

It is simply that I have some friends in Montreal and I wondered if you knew them.

Oh, not the French-speaking part, no.

Edmonton it was.

Alberta.

Ah... Je suis desole.

How foolish of me.

Did you find that when you were coming over here everyone would say to you... "I know someone in England, Newcastle.

Please to say hello"?

SHE LAUGHS Oh, yes, people can be so silly.

But it was natural for me to settle in Dover because this is where my sister lives.

- Ah.

- As well as meeting Joe here.

- But of course.

- Well, I'll let you get on.

That's wonderful news about the identification.

Yes, indeed.

Madame.

SOFT THUD, HE EXCLAIMS GIRLS GIGGLING Ah... We did what you asked.

Do you want to come and see?

Oui.

Mademoiselle Jenny, Mademoiselle May, tell to me what is it you have found.

- Coins.

- Coins?

- About two and six.

- Ah, but that's very good.

You found all this in the garden of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?

But it's not the best thing yet.

But that was in our garden, not hers.

What is "the best thing"?

Ah... S'il te plait?

Merci.

OBJECT RATTLING TELEPHONE RINGS You may have known him under a name other than Castleton.

No, sir.

No.

And he was putting pressure on you for money.

Maybe he was blackmailing... CONSTABLE: Sir.

It's Poirot.

HARDCASTLE SIGHS Hardcastle.

POIROT: Inspector, it is a matter of urgency that you dispatch but immediately a telegram to Somerset House.

It is a matter of urgency that I continue to interview my prime suspect, so will you go away for ten blinking minutes?

Non, and you MUST release Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

- Release her?

- Oui.

It is evident to Poirot that she is not guilty, but I will need her help to prove it.

Also, I will need to speak to her over the telephone, but IMMEDIATELY after I have given you instructions for Somerset House.

What is going on, Poirot?

I will tell to you everything that Poirot has discovered, but you MUST promise to release Mademoiselle Webb and act according to my instructions.

HE SIGHS Go on.

You must get Somerset House to verify the marriage record of Harry Castleton to Mademoiselle Merlina Rival, and you must also get them to verify something else for me.

RACE: This is Annabel Larkin's, I'm sure.

And this was discovered in Mabbutt's garden?

Also, I learnt from his daughters that this afternoon he intends to travel to France.

You must prevent this.

No, you've got the wrong end of the stick.

Trawling through the histories of the neighbours, we found this.

The Waterhouses, with their perfect English name, their perfect English voices, are German.

They came over in 1936 from Munich.

They changed their name from Tuchman.

But of course, they are German.

Did you not notice the slips in the way they spoke?

We like this street, because it's quiet also.

POIROT: 'The use of the word "also" 'at the end of the sentence.'

A mistake most common in even the most fluent German when they speak English.

Why didn't you say?

Because they cannot be connected, Lieutenant.

Maybe they buried this in Mabbutt's garden to draw us away... - No, no, no, no, no.

Mabbutt and Pebmarsh were overheard on the evening of the murder.

We need to do it now, Mr Mabbutt.

Not with them swarming all over the place, no.

But it will all be wasted if we don't act now.

POIROT: 'It was presumed 'they were arguing about the children.'

But, non, Poirot thinks not.

Poirot suspects that they were talking about the police that were now in the neighbourhood and the importance of getting the stolen documents to their contact on the continent.

- Miss Pebmarsh?

- Consider this.

The note that was made by Mademoiselle Fiona on the night she followed Larkin.

It would have been made in haste, huh?

A piece of paper pulled from her handbag.

A scribble.

What does it mean?

Number 61?

No-one knows what it means.

Exactement, mon ami, exactement.

So if you please... Perhaps Poirot is correct when he does... this.

RACE: 19 Wilbraham Crescent.

Mademoiselle Pebmarsh.

RACE: Can I ask you where you're going, please, Mr Mabbutt?

- Why are you asking?

Routine.

Well, I'm taking the Calais ferry in three-quarters of an hour, and have business in France for the next three days.

Good day, sir.

Will you step over to the car, please, sir?

Just a minute of your time.

MABBUTT: What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?

RACE: Bear with us, sir.

I apologise for the inconvenience.

SHOP BELL TINKLES Good afternoon.

Good afternoon, mademoiselle.

It is I, Hercule Poirot.

What can I do for you, monsieur?

POIROT: Eh bien, mademoiselle, I have reason to believe that Mademoiselle Nora Brent may have visited the studio here to have a photograph taken with a gentleman.

And I wondered if I might take you up on your offer most kind to look through your records.

Of course.

Not knowing the gentleman's name, I suppose it would be best if you were to start at the beginning of the alphabet and work your way through.

- Oui, d'accord.

Then... you should begin here.

Merci.

Fine weather for a crossing today, sir.

How long is this going to take?

Just a few minutes more.

What have we here?

HE GRUNTS Get off me!

Would you like a cup of tea, monsieur?

Non, non, non, merci, mademoiselle.

I think I have found what I am looking for.

- Already?

- Oui.

I thought that the sweetheart of Mademoiselle Nora Brent had a name at the beginning of the alphabet and... ..luck it has struck.

BELL DINGS DOOR CLOSES Millicent Pebmarsh, I'm Lieutenant Race of the Royal Navy.

And I am arresting you under suspicion of high treason.

Would you please accompany me?

Mm.

So let's have another one, then.

Come on.

Mrs Rival.

Oh, hello.

I've said everything I had to say, and I'm back to London on the two-fifteen.

so thanking you.

Cin-cin.

Can I ask when Harry Castleton cut himself shaving?

Well, I don't know when.

When we were together.

Fifteen years ago?

I told you I haven't seen him for 15 years.

The police surgeon tells me that it's a more recent scar.

Perhaps only two years old.

Well, I remember him doing it, so your police surgeon is incorrect, your honour.

Mrs Rival, you know that perverting the course of justice carries a maximum sentence of four years?

Which is why I don't do it.

Is this your correct address in London?

I believe it is, yes.

Good.

Oh, Sheila.

Nice to have you back.

I've been typing up some of the work that Nora left unfinished on Naked Love.

Now that you're back, perhaps you could take it over.

- Of course, Miss Martindale.

Well, the manuscript's in my office.

It's lunchtime, girls.

RACE: Quite an operation you had going here.

'Larkin would steal the documents.

'Pebmarsh would make a copy.'

And Mabbutt would make a drop somewhere in France.

And all of you recruited by... ..the Waterhouses.

Non, Lieutenant.

MABBUTT LAUGHS The Waterhouses?

You were doing quite well until you mentioned that scum.

Excuse me.

- What are we doing here?

- Are we under arrest?

Why did you change your name from Tuchman to Waterhouse?

Why are you living in England under false identities?

HE SPEAKS GERMAN - What?

- We are Jewish.

But this is England.

Why are you disguising the fact you're Jewish?

Do you think that antisemitism doesn't exist here, as well, Lieutenant?

This is our third English city in the last two years.

When you have lived through what we did in Munich, at the first sign of it you move on.

All we want is to live our lives quietly, without threat... without prejudice.

The irony is, Lieutenant, it's in our country's interests to have peace with Germany.

To stop the communists creeping ever westward.

We are patriots who pass information to Hitler because, if Chamberlain's policy of appeasement doesn't hold and someone like Churchill gets his hands on power, we will be dragged into a war 100 times worse than the last one.

And in that scenario, the quicker Germany knocks out a weak, liberal England, the better for all Europe.

Or what would remain of Europe under the Nazis?

Monsieur, you have not seen your country overrun by foreign tyranny.

I have.

And I tell you, MONSIEUR, that I value the "weak, liberal England", as you call it, as a country well worth the fighting for!

But you won't do the fighting, will you, monsieur?

It will be the young boys again.

And if I can save one life by keeping this country weak so it cannot engage in war with Germany... ..then I will be proud of what I've done.

Fiona Hanbury had a life.

MABBUTT: I think people like that are called collateral, Lieutenant.

They die for a greater good.

ANNABEL: Please!

Stop!

TYRES SCREECHING GUN CLICKS The man found dead in Miss Pebmarsh's sitting room also had a life, Mabbutt.

As did the secretary, Nora Brent.

No, sir, we don't believe those deaths had anything to do with these people.

In fact, if we're correct, Inspector Hardcastle is, at this moment, making an arrest in that murder investigation.

He practically put a black cap on his head and gave me four years.

I'm not going to go to prison for four years.

I won't do it!

SHE SNIFFLES Well, I want more money.

More than the 200.

No, I want more.

All right, I know where that is.

I'll meet you there.

CONSTABLE: Where do you think she's heading?

HARDCASTLE: Down to the seafront?

If she can stay upright.

BOTH LAUGHING Can you see her?

- No.

- Where did she go?

WOMAN SCREAMING Sir.

So now we are all assembled.

What's this about, Inspector?

Mr Poirot would like a word.

But first, please do sit down, all of you.

Mademoiselle Martindale.

Monsieur and Madame Bland.

Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

I thank you all very, very much for coming here this evening.

We had little choice.

Oui.

This has been a puzzle most intriguing which has tested Poirot... ..but not found him wanting.

So first, if I may, let us take a look at the facts.

We have a telephone call made to the Cavendish Bureau requesting the services of a secretary by name Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

A telephone call that nobody admits to making.

She arrives in a room full of clocks, that nobody admits to owning.

But all of these clocks, they spell exactly the same time, four-thirteen... which has no significance.

She finds there a dead man... with an identification that is false, and who is impossible to trace because nobody knows him.

I hope you will agree with me on these facts, Mademoiselle Martindale?

Yes.

Madame Bland?

I don't understand why myself and my husband have been summoned here.

All will become clear, madame.

Then we have the note most threatening that was sent to Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

We have the second murder, that of poor Nora Brent, who was a colleague of Mademoiselle Webb.

And we have the identification definitive of the dead man down to the scar behind his left ear.

A gentleman who apparently was seen in the hotel with Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

A man who preyed on women who were vulnerable.

And then, we have, well, complication upon complication.

We have evidence that is totally circumstantial that builds and builds into a wall of proof against Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.

But Poirot he realises that in amongst this... POIROT EXHALES What is the word for "obscurcissement"?

This... this dark cloud of murder, there is one fact that can be proved, is that not so, monsieur?

- Which is what?

- Which is, the eyewitness Lieutenant Race, who saw a woman so frightened, so bewildered, that it was not possible for her to have committed murder.

It was the Lieutenant Race who also who led Poirot to the solution when he said of the note most threatening...

The thing missing is it's not written in blood.

Mes amis, there are moments for a detective when a light... it goes on.

Where had I heard before that expression?

A cheap thriller on the stage?

Exactement, mon ami, exactement.

The word "Revenge" written in his blood on the blotter.

Ah, la.

The cheap thriller.

The plots that are complicated.

The usual diet of the Cavendish Bureau, Mademoiselle Martindale, and it made me to think of la pauvre Mademoiselle Nora Brent, a young woman who was killed because... the heel of her shoe broke... - Oh, fiddlesticks!

..twenty yards from her place of work.

'Which meant she returned early to her desk 'in her lunch hour that day.'

She knew that the telephone it did not sound.

She knew that there was no call from Mademoiselle Pebmarsh requesting the services of the secretary Sheila Webb.

I received the call from a Miss Pebmarsh at about a quarter to two during the lunch hour.

NORA: I don't see how what she said is true.

CONSTABLE: Thank you, madame.

What she said couldn't possibly be true.

POIROT: 'So she had to be silenced.'

SHE GASPS POIROT: 'Is that not so, Mademoiselle Martindale?'

- That is ridiculous!

- No more ridiculous than the cheap thrillers, the plots that are complicated, that you had spent your life working amongst.

Lunchtime, girls!

POIROT: 'And it was at the instigation 'of Hercule Poirot 'that Mademoiselle Webb made the search of the papers 'of the estate of Garry Gregson 'and she found this short story that Poirot he remembered.'

It is full of clocks, identifications that are false.

There is even a build-up of evidence to frame a person who is innocent, who felt so implicated in a crime they did not commit that they became frightened and irrational and, therefore, huh, more suspicious to the police.

It is all here, mademoiselle!

You could not even think of a plot of your own devising!

Oh, except, pardon, for the addition you made of the clock, the Rosemary clock, that you stole from the handbag of Mademoiselle Webb when she took it to be repaired.

Is that not so?

And then you frighten her with the number four-thirteen, the time of the clocks, but also the room in the hotel where Mademoiselle Sheila Webb conducted her love affair that was to you, oh, so shameful.

But she is not what she seems.

Because, for Mademoiselle Sheila Webb, her love it was real.

Why would I want that man dead in Wilbraham Crescent, monsieur?

I didn't even know him.

Do you know what this is, Madame Bland?

It is the death certificate of the first Madame Bland.

Not you... but a woman from Canada.

The woman who inherited all of the money.

When the inheritance came through, Joe said no-one would know.

They didn't know his wife was dead, and all we had to do was... - Shut up, Val!

- Shut up!

VAL SCREAMS HE GRUNTS HARDCASTLE: So... who is the dead man, Poirot?

I do not know, Inspector.

As I told to you before, it is not important WHO he is, but who he IS.

And Poirot suspects that he is a friend or relative of the first Madame Bland who left Canada, came to this country to look her up.

This was a man who knew that the money had gone to the wrong woman.

A man who, if murdered, would become impossible to trace for the police in England.

Madame Bland, you said something strange.

It was natural to settle in Dover because my sister lives here.

Your sister, Madame Bland... 'Your sister who is as Canadian as you are.'

When the letter from his wife's uncle arrived, Joe said he and Kathy could work it out.

He could rig the old van up to look like the laundry.

Ah, yes, the laundry van that was seen by Madame Hemmings.

It arrived on the wrong day.

It arrived on Wednesday instead of Tuesday.

Yes, because they wanted to dump him at the blind woman's, find a mark on his body and get Merlina to verify it.

Who you knew from your days in the theatre?

Oh, come on in.

This way.

I hope this isn't an inconvenience.

Oh, not at all.

There, look.

He has a scar behind his left ear.

JOE GRUNTS Kathy said she knew how to make it work, that there was a young tart at the bureau no-one would miss, who would deserve it.

She said she'd set her up, it would be all right.

They said there would be no reason for the body to be at the blind woman's house with Sheila Webb and it would just confuse the police.

It would be confusion upon confusion, complication upon complication.

JOE GRUNTS VAL: 'Joe had worked so hard all his life for nothing, 'and the money was so huge.

'It was so huge.'

MAN GROANS MAN SPLUTTERS VAL: But they made me do it.

They...

They made me put the knife into Sheila Webb's bag at the inquest.

Would you like a cup of tea?

They made me press Merlina to come and lie to falsify the marriage, and falsely identify the body and... and then, when she was scared to... to come to the sea front so they could kill her.

SHE SOBS It was only going to be the one death.

It was only going to be the one.

SHE CRIES CAR DOOR CLOSES All right, madam, in the back.

Thank you.

Mademoiselle.

HARDCASTLE: Thank you, Mr Poirot.

And if you're staying in Dover tonight, I'd very much like to stand you another pint.

Well, that is most kind of you, Inspector, but it is tonight that I travel to London.

But if you should ever find yourself there, if you please to look me up, I will stand for you the cocktail.

Right.

Pleasure to know you, sir.

- Inspector.

- Lieutenant.

Monsieur Colin, do I have to tell you to go after her?

No.

Then go after her.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING I've only known you a few days... ..and already it's like we've fallen in love, married... had seven children, divorced, met again under peculiar circumstances... ..married, had a few more children... ..divorced.

She must have hated me so much.

Shall we start again, Sheila?

- Yes, please.

- Let's start again.