AUCTIONEER: Who will start me at £100?

£100 for a start they want.

£100 I'm bid.

£100 I'm bid.

Who will give me £110?

Who will make it £110?

I'm looking for £110.

£110.

£110 I'm bid.

Who will make it £120?

Come on, gentlemen.

Who will make it £120?

£120 I'm bid.

It's with you, madam.

At £120.

Do I hear £150?

£150 anywhere?

Come on, gentlemen.

That's a genuine antique.

They don't come up every day.

£150.

£150 I'm bid.

Come on, gentlemen.

I'm looking for £350.

£350 anywhere?

Don't lose it, madam.

Don't lose it for another £50.

£350 anywhere?

£350 I'm bid.

At £350.

Who'll make it £400?

I'm looking for £400.

Any more?

At £350.

Are you all done?

At £350.

At £350.

[ Gavel bangs ] Lovejoy.

[ Birds chirping ] [ Up-tempo music playing on radio ] MAN: Hello and welcome to the Radio Norfolk Farming Program.

Did you see that?

So the barman, feeling very embarrassed by this time, says, "That's funny.

We've even got a scotch named after you."

"Really?"

says the horse.

"Eric?"

Well, I still don't get it.

It was a white horse.

Well, maybe I'm missing the point because my name is Eric.

Oh, give me a break.

Well, is there a whisky called Eric?

Oh, Eric!

[ Siren wailing ] ♪ ...Just your foolish pride ♪ ♪ Layla ♪ ♪ You got me on my knees ♪ ♪ Layla ♪ ♪ I'm begging, darling, please ♪ ♪ Layla ♪ ♪ Darling, won't you ease my worried mind ♪ ♪ Tried to give you consolation ♪ [ Click, music stops ] -Don't get out.

-What?

Don't get out.

It's not the bloody gestapo.

Get out, please.

Certainly, Officer.

NIXON: You got a road fund license for this?

LOVEJOY: Oh, it's a friend's.

Well, an acquaintance's.

Well, more of a casual acquaintance, really.

-NIXON: Still an offense.

-LOVEJOY: I've no doubt.

Driving a vehicle without a road license.

And your load's loose.

That's my assistant's area.

Get out of there.

Well, why?

You said it wasn't the bloody gestapo.

Eric.

Do me a favor?

[ Police radio chatter ] Some people might call this passing the buck, shirking one's responsibility.

But Eric has got to learn the antiques trade from the bottom.

Can't be much closer to the bottom than being pulled over by the Polizei on your way to Newmarket to offload some junk.

The lad says you arranged the loads.

I advised him.

You see, loading valuable antiques is a skill.

Often the load that looks the least secure is the most professionally arranged.

-Thank you, Officer.

-I see.

Well, get this thing off the road till you can produce a proper MOT and road fund license.

Of course.

Thank you, Officer.

My partner wanted to do you.

Well, he obviously lacks your judgment.

Just watch how you go.

[ Engine turns over ] How do you get away with it?

Experience.

[ Man grunting ] PRICE: Easy.

Hold it.

-ERIC: All right.

You got it?

-PRICE: Okay.

So what do you think, Ricky?

Most of that stuff's firewood, Lovejoy.

But you know that, don't you?

LOVEJOY: You knew where I was going when we made the deal.

[ Can opens ] She was a nice old bird, Miss Wesley.

Bought one or two good pieces from me over the years.

See anything here?

Mm.

What'd you give?

A grand.

[ Laughs ] They saw you coming.

LOVEJOY: Berwick and Partners wind up half the estates in the area.

I mean, it's worth a grand.

You know it.

I'll give you a monkey for the lot.

Stop poncing about.

I'll go to Ned Samson.

Well, he wouldn't give you any more.

He'd give me a grand.

And that's a Parliament clock if ever I saw one.

Worth what?

£300 to the right punter.

All right.

I'll give you the clock and £600.

£900.

£700.

There's your thou and that's it.

What about my time, petrol, the lad's pay?

He's paying you, Lovejoy.

Biggest joke in the trade.

Well, throw another clock in.

-Which one?

-That one.

Ah.

Had your eye on that all along, eh?

-Well... -Come off it, Lovejoy.

I know you.

Nice clock.

Worth sod all without the works.

I'll put something in it, dress it up, and find a mark.

£600 and both clocks.

[ Machinery whirring ] £700 and I'll take the Parliament.

Of course, this is what you really came for.

Pay the lawyers with a check.

Uncle Ricky pays you cash.

Well, I didn't come for your terrible beer.

You're a snob, Lovejoy.

Not where cash is concerned.

Oh, go on.

Take the other bloody clock.

Price, you're a prince.

[ Taps leg ] [ Engine shuts off, parking brake clicks ] Oh, Lovejoy, it's exactly right.

LOVEJOY: It's called an Act of Parliament.

No.

I'm not with you.

Well, in 1797, an iniquitous tax was levied by William Pitt on clocks and watches of all kinds.

I think it was five shillings for a watch or a timekeeper and 10 shillings for a gold watch or any gold timekeeper which, as I recalled, "was used for the purpose of a watch, whatever name that same shall be called."

-Well, no loopholes there.

-Exactly.

So most people, not having a clock or a watch or a timekeeper of any kind, would visit the local pub, which had a large, functional wall clock.

Oh.

Thank you.

So they could have a drink and tell the time, too.

Clever idea.

Mm.

Do you like it?

Oh, it's smashing.

I'm going to put it up right...here.

Now, how much?

It's a gift.

Oh, don't be stupid.

You're always broke.

£190.

Mm.

Seems fair.

Did, uh, anything else take your fancy?

Quite a nice French clock.

No insides, but I'll dress it up and sell it to some punter.

I'm surprised you hadn't thought of a battery.

Janey.

If I could only get away with it.

[ Eric Clapton's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" playing ] ♪ Ma, take this badge off of me ♪ ♪ I can't use it anymore ♪ ♪ It's getting dark, too dark to see ♪ ♪ Feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door ♪ ♪ Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door ♪ ♪ Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door ♪ ♪ Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door ♪ "Dear Mistress Fairfax, I have today wr-- [ Music stops ] "Dear Mistress Fairfax, I have today written to your father -- your kind father -- thanking him with deep sincerity for inviting a mere ensign of dragoons to such an illustrious home.

Next month -- on the 18th, to be precise -- the regiment will move to Thetford for maneuvers with the light cavalry brigade."

"My dearest love."

"With all my love."

Oh, that's magic.

[ Register chiming ] [ Indistinct conversations ] Can you hear me?

I not only hear you, Lovejoy.

I can see both of you.

I did that bereavement sale today -- Topplehill Farm.

Knocked it out to Ricky Price for a considerable loss, I heard.

Oh, I collected a couple of clocks.

Got rid of one.

The other should bring a few hundred.

French case, sans works.

I didn't realize this sale was on the radio.

You've got that Japanese counterfeit mechanism if it'll fit.

It fits.

And there's more.

Well, of course there's more, Lovejoy.

You never get flushed over money.

Only a great deal of money.

Love letters.

A lady's.

Found them in the clock.

-When?

-About two hours ago.

No, you fool.

When were they written?

I can hardly see a bunch of lady's love letters circa 1957 exciting much fervor.

Unless of course, they're unspeakably pornographic.

Early 19th century.

Bravo, lovers.

You'll need Tinker.

Tinker's an expert on letters.

Publishing, newspaper serial rights.

Another round, duchess, on Lovejoy.

Publisher's advance.

JANE: How many years do they cover?

LOVEJOY: About two -- from the first time Ensign Parker visited the general's house to the eve of the Battle of Waterloo.

By which time the general's daughter, Miss Fairfax, and the young ensign were in love.

Oh, hopelessly, passionately doomed, just like us.

One day you'll say that to some poor girl who thinks you mean it.

I don't suppose there's any chance of tracking down the girl's letters to him, the young ensign?

Probably lying under the sod at Haute Allemonte JANE: Where's that?

It's part of the field at Waterloo where most of the 8th Dragoons were killed.

Soldier probably wrote this in his tent, wound up, cleaning his kit, ready to meet the French.

"My dearest love, your letter, now received, makes my heart leap.

Can it be true that you long for me as I long for you?"

LOVEJOY: That's true love, Jane.

Infinitely more romantic than the telex "Back Tuesday.

How about a bit?"

Oh, that reminds me -- Alexander's back tonight.

What time does my new clock say?

10:22.

I must go.

I'm picking him up at the airport.

Collecting him at midnight?

True love.

Let yourselves out.

And do leave him a drop of scotch.

[ Liquid pouring ] [ Door opens ] [ Keys jingle, door closes ] LOVEJOY: Oh, no!

I didn't leave this bloody door open, and I didn't leave this bloody light on!

TINKER: Ever since you got that burglar alarm, Lovejoy, you've been turned over at least twice a week.

LOVEJOY: I wish they'd steal the bloody alarm.

Well, the clock's gone.

I suppose they got what they came for.

Or did they?

[ Tires screech ] [ Police radio chatter ] [ Engine idling ] Excuse me, Officer.

NIXON: Just going by, they were, Sarge, but I recognized them.

It's the two we pulled up for an unsecured load driving that vehicle.

Thanks, Dixon.

Nixon, Sarge.

Oh, yes.

Well, uh, thanks.

Very observant of you.

Actually, I, uh, know who that man is only too well.

MAN: Excuse us, please, gents.

[ Police radio chatter ] -Ricky?

-DRABBLE: Get him to hospital.

Hey, what happened?

You two.

[ Sighs ] Inside.

So...come back to visit the scene of the crime, have you?

What are you talking about?

Barry.

A description of his assailant, such as he was able to give, was..."Stockily built, 5'9", scruffily dressed, dark, curly hair, olive complexion, late 30s."

-[ Notebook closes ] -So?

Fits you perfectly.

Yeah, it does, actually.

Don't be stupid.

You brought that lorry here yesterday.

It's Ricky's.

He's a friend of mine.

I was bringing some gear back from a bereavement sale.

Old farmhouse in the fen country.

So why back here so soon?

Oh, you're not going to try to tickle me for grievous bodily harm, are you?

Just checking on a motive.

Revenge.

Robbery.

Who knows?

You're turning his place over last night and Price comes back unexpectedly.

That's like that movie -- um, Graham Greene, wasn't it?

"Brighton Rock."

No, no.

Uh, "Gun for Sale," I was thinking of.

No, no.

What was that one that finished up in Hull or someplace?

You know -- Oh, a little actress involved.

Some seaside -- Excuse me for interrupting this highly articulate literary and cinematic discussion.

But Ricky -- Remember Ricky?

I think he was done by a stranger.

Oh, don't kid me.

You lot?

I read the papers.

Graft, greed, and God knows.

However, we don't think money was the motive.

No.

Price had £400 in cash on him.

Yes, he was able to say a few words.

Seems some bloke beat him up last night for information about a clock.

[ Bell tolling ] LOVEJOY: That clock was only of use to someone who, A, knew of the letters or, B, had the original mechanism.

ERIC: And?

LOVEJOY: Maybe the person who nicked the clock was not the person who beat up Ricky Price.

But if he is, things could get nasty, Eric.

ERIC: Well, I'm glad I started that martial arts course at the Ipswich Poly.

LOVEJOY: Yeah.

I just wish you'd finished it.

ERIC: Where are we off to, then?

LOVEJOY: Square one.

Berwick and Partners, bereavement solicitors.

You did very well at that auction -- Topplehill Farm.

[ Exhales sharply ] No house contents deserve to go for £670.

-Shh.

-£600?

Um, did anyone else show any interest at all in any particular piece of the house contents apart from me?

Let me make it quite clear that we never... [ Exhales deeply ] ...absolutely never divulge details of client or customer affairs.

Mr. Berwick, someone could be in grave danger.

Then you should contact the police.

Well, yes, I should.

But then the police, followed by the hordes of press, television, news cameras -- I don't think they'd be very welcome to your client, nor indeed to your offices.

[ Telephone ringing ] Fairfax.

There was an S.K.

Fairfax who wrote asking if the sale date could be put back.

It couldn't, of course.

Ads had been posted and so on.

LOVEJOY: S.K.

Fairfax?

I really don't see what use this is going to be to you.

Rest assured, if we do find anything untoward, we shall keep Berwick and Partners out of it.

Then we understand each other.

[ Typewriter clicking ] [ Horses whinnying ] LOVEJOY: I can't see anyone owning all this wanting an extra clock.

ERIC: I think those letters have gone to your head, Lovejoy.

We shouldn't be piddling around the country like this.

We should be back home, trying to make a dishonest living.

[ Parking brake clicks, engine shuts off ] Eric, do you ever get the feeling you've been someplace before?

Yeah.

I went to this Judas Priest concert last year, and I thought, "Eric, you've been here before."

-Just déjà vu.

-Well, not really.

I'd been to see Iron Maiden there the month before.

If you're not careful, Eric, you'll end up in one of those camps.

What camps?

Those internment camps they have for heavy metal freaks over on Foulness Island.

-Eh?

-Seriously.

They strap you in chairs and make you listen to Leonard Cohen records all day.

Leonard who?

WOMAN: Can I help you?

Um... Fairfax.

I'm...looking for a Mr. Fairfax, S.K.

Well, I'm Sophy Fairfax, and my brother's Michael, so which one do you want?

I've made my mind up.

SOPHY: Help yourself to sugar.

[ Exhales deeply ] SOPHY: So, you were asking about Miss Wesley's auction.

The late Miss Wesley.

LOVEJOY: You wrote to the solicitors asking them to postpone the sale.

I-I couldn't get over on the day of the auction.

It was...a personal matter.

Anything particular you wanted to bid for?

A couple of things.

Sentimental value.

You see, Michael and I are half Wesley, and certain of Aunt's effects were family heirlooms.

I bought the lot.

You did?

Well, nobody turned up.

Well, a couple of neighbors, but no serious competition.

So...you've got all the contents?

No.

Sold them to a colleague in the trade.

ERIC: [ Chewing loudly ] LOVEJOY: Would you excuse us a moment, please?

Eric?

Take a little walk.

Where to?

Edinburgh.

SOPHY: Why are you looking at me like that?

Hmm?

Oh, I'm sorry.

I just keep feeling we've met before.

I'm still not sure why you're here.

Are you sure you're not a lawyer or a detective or something?

I'm a something.

I kept a couple of things back.

SOPHY: And one was a clock.

How did you know?

Mr. Lovejoy, I have known all about that clock since I was 12 years old.

My mother told Michael and I about it.

What exactly did she say?

Quite obviously you know.

If you've gone to all this trouble to track me down, you must have found Ensign Parker's letters.

Yes, I did, as a matter of fact.

I've never read them.

They're a delight.

A love affair.

If we could only trace her letters to him.

Oh, Michael has them.

They belong to us both.

After Ensign Parker was killed, his father found them and sent them to Sarah.

She died in June 1816 of a broken heart.

I wonder what she looked like.

Richard sketched her, on a bridge beside a water mill.

I wonder why the two sets of letters were kept apart.

Oh, some stupid family squabble.

Do you know what a publisher would give for those?

Well, that's why I wanted to go to the Topplehill auction -- to bid for the clock.

Michael and I were left this pile, but not much money.

I've got his.

You've got hers.

If I find a publisher, we could split the proceeds.

You'll have to speak to Michael first.

JANE: Do you think this Michael Fairfax will part with the girl's letters to Ensign Parker?

Do you know, I would be happy just to read them?

Oh, you sentimental old thing.

-Pretty, was she?

-I don't know.

Apparently he sketched her by a water mill.

I mean Sophy.

Oh, she's okay, I suppose.

Mm.

That pretty.

Devastating.

It's a lovely house, Winton Stud.

Old Colonel Fairfax was a hell of a character.

-You knew him?

-Mm.

He used to be a top Newmarket breeder until the bottle caught up with him.

He had a beautiful wife.

She died in a hunting accident.

Way to go.

Mm.

[ Door closes ] Oh, don't bother to knock.

GIMBERT: Landlord's privilege.

Good morning, Lady Felsham.

Visiting the proles, are we?

Well, I sometimes drop by with scraps of food and drink.

I thought that, uh, wine wasn't Lovejoy's.

Chardonnay '78?

Oh, excellent.

Ah.

And these are the letters, are they?

Hands off.

Mm.

Tinker said they were valuable.

Lovejoy may just be onto something.

He thinks the letters are the reason someone broke in last night.

And beat up Ricky Price.

Well, whoever it was is wasting his time.

What do you mean?

Well, the letters of Ensign Richard Parker to Miss Fairfax are certainly worth a few grand.

Unquestioned.

Come on, Charlie.

Out with it.

Well, it's simply this -- that the original letters happen to be the property of the Royal Suffolk Yeomanry.

A T.A.

regiment whose military ancestors fought at Waterloo, among them, Ensign Richard Parker.

You're putting me on.

Au contraire.

I was there recently purchasing items superfluous to requirements.

And I can assure you, the letters are prominently displayed.

Yes, the Yeoman are very proud of them.

You don't think I'd come all the way over here to bring you good news, do you, Lovejoy?

Ta for the wine.

Mm.

It'd be better in a year or two.

Oh, well, everything will be better in a year or two, eh?

[ Bells tolling ] [ Birds chirping ] [ Doorbell buzzes ] LOVEJOY: Michael Fairfax?

MAN: That's right.

Your sister might have mentioned me.

Oh!

Um, Lovejoy.

[ Door opens ] I'm sorry about the mess.

[ Sniffs ] Uh, what sort of deal are you offering?

I thought a 50/50 split.

Do you think, um... [ Sniffs ] Do you think a publisher might be interested?

I can only ask.

You all right?

Sorry?

You just seem a little nervous.

[ Chuckling ] No.

I'm fine.

Um, would you like a drink?

Bit early, isn't it?

Why don't, um, you simply buy the letters?

How much?

Well, I thought, uh, about £10,000.

I don't know what they're worth.

You're a dealer.

Yes, but that's a far cry from publishing old letters.

I thought I'd take them to an expert and then see.

Ah.

A bit strapped for cash, are you?

[ Chuckles ] You know how things are.

Yes, but you inherited half of Winton Stud.

Death duties, old chap.

Sophy and I are practically destitute.

She seems to manage.

Yeah.

She doesn't have my overheads.

Oh.

TINKER: What overheads does he mean?

LOVEJOY: Coke.

TINKER: Never drink the stuff.

Cocaine.

Colombian marching powder.

Oh, you mean... [ Sniffs ] Yeah.

He also looked guilty.

Why guilty?

I reckon he's the bloke who stole my clock.

Not for the clock, of course.

For the love letters in the clock.

Do you reckon he's the bloke who roughed up Ricky Price?

It's a thought.

The more I think about it, the more I know my clock's in his crummy flat.

I could sense it.

[ Whistles ] -Hmm?

-Come back.

Oh, I'm sorry, Tink.

I was just...thinking back to Sergeant Drabble.

[ Engine shuts off ] DRABBLE: I hope you haven't brought me all this way on a wild goose chase.

I'll just say enough to scare him a little.

[ Sighs ] I don't like it.

This is not our turf.

Dirty Harry wouldn't worry about a formality like that.

[ Knock on door ] Well, back so soon?

Something's bothering me.

What's that?

May I come in?

Uh, d-did you -- did you bring the letters with you?

No.

I didn't think that would be a good idea.

There's not a problem, is there?

Yesterday, you said you were strapped for cash.

How strapped?

-I'm not with you.

-Desperate.

How desperate?

What the hell do you mean?

Well, cocaine's a very expensive habit, especially if you're short of readies.

[ Chuckles ] Cocaine?

Cocaine.

Rich man's sherbet.

Now, look here.

Come off it.

You didn't get that sniffle feeding the ducks.

What's it to you?

You're not a cop.

No, I'm not.

But certain things are beginning to add up.

And you worry me, Fairfax.

I ought to ask you to get out of here.

I'll save you the trouble.

But do drop me a line.

Well, you know where I live.

[ Door closes ] Two bloody hours, Lovejoy.

I'm surprised we haven't been wheel-clamped.

Well, this white horse walks into a pub.

I know -- name of Albert.

Eric.

I heard it as Albert.

Oh, it's probably a different story.

I doubt it.

LOVEJOY: There he is.

[ Grunts ] [ Grunts ] Michael Alwyn Fairfax, I am arresting you on suspicion of burglary.

You're not obliged to say anything if you don't wish, but I must warn you that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence.

SOPHY: [ Voice breaking ] Bloody, bloody Michael.

[ Horse whinnying ] He was such a super brother when we were young.

I'm really very sorry.

It's not your fault.

And the letters are fakes.

They certainly are not.

Apparently some part-time dragoons have the real ones in their museum.

So you mean... mine could be worthless?

It wasn't unusual for families to make copies of letters.

But perhaps mine are the originals and the regiment have the fakes.

Oh, Lovejoy, couldn't you find out?

MAN: Guard!

Get on parade!

SERGEANT MAJOR: Just a moment, please, sir.

MAN: Guard!

In open order!

LOVEJOY: I have an appointment with your adjutant.

I'm afraid you're improperly dressed to join the officers, sir.

Regimental dinner this evening, sir.

[ Indistinct shouting ] Oh, that takes me back.

India.

Never missed an episode of "Jewel in the Crown."

Could I inquire the nature of your business, please, sir?

Yes.

Certainly.

The Ensign Parker letters.

Beg pardon, sir?

They're on display in your museum.

This will explain.

Copy already sent to your adjutant.

Imperial War Museum, sir.

Yes.

I'm one of the curators.

Lovejoy, C.J., Captain.

Sorry, sir.

Very sorry.

I'll see what I can do, sir.

-Mr. Lovejoy?

-Yes.

-John Ingleton.

-How do you do?

I would have arrived earlier, but I had a spot of car trouble.

I can't understand not receiving this.

Oh, some postal strike somewhere, I expect.

Bad moment, I'm afraid.

I mean, you've come on an evening when we can't really show you hospitality.

Not to worry.

Another time, perhaps.

You won't be going to dinner for quite a while yet, will you?

Well, hour and a half or so.

It won't take nearly that long.

What exactly is it you wish to check?

The museum recently received a collection of military relics.

Legacy of the late General... Catchpole.

Catchpole?

Who's he?

Oh, Northern Command.

Retired long before the war.

Regrettably, in the general's things were a lot of copies, including a set of Ensign Parker's papers.

No dishonesty intended, of course.

The copies somehow must have slipped in.

[ Chuckles ] Oh, Lord.

Well, I hope ours aren't fakes.

LOVEJOY: I'm sure they're not, but we just have to reverify, make comparisons in case any fakes may crop up again.

Of course.

[ Footsteps approaching ] Excusing me, sir.

Colonel Anders' party is here, sir.

Good Lord.

He's early.

Uh, you'll be all right?

Hmm?

Oh, blissful.

-Blissful.

-Right.

Right, Sergeant Major.

MAN: Duty bugler, break post!

[ Last Post plays ] [ Music continues ] [ Music continues, clock chiming ] Guard will move to the right!

Right turn!

By the left!

Quick march!

INGLETON: Look, I hate to hurry you.

No, no, no.

Not at all.

Hate to be caught in mufti -- not like this, anyway.

[ Chuckles ] No, no.

They're splendid.

Splendid fakes.

-Hmm?

-Oh, no, no.

-My letters, not yours.

-Oh, jolly good.

When were the letters given to the Yeomanry?

I think it was around 1918.

Four Fairfaxes and three Wesleys died with us, you know.

Old Lady Fairfax was a bit short of cash.

We're a wealthy mess.

We purchased the letters.

Though we treated them as a gift.

Officers and, uh, gentlemen, eh?

Precisely.

Well, I'm glad our letters are authentic.

Oh, I know an authentic letter when I see one.

INGLETON: Jolly good.

Well, nice to have met you, Captain Lovejoy.

[ Mid-tempo music plays ] [ Click, machinery whirring ] [ Music continues ] LOVEJOY: Hello, Charlie.

Uh, wait in the car, would you, dear?

Another one of your nieces?

She's in the trade, Lovejoy.

Fronts for Sotheby's.

LOVEJOY: She's deductible, then.

You're looking very well groomed.

Been in court, have we?

No.

I went over to that regiment you told me about.

You were right.

They have the letters -- the real ones, unhappily.

Well, there wasn't much money in it, was there?

There's a limit to what a collector will pay for that sort of thing.

I wasn't thinking of collecting.

I was thinking more in terms of publishing.

Sunday Times, Observer, syndication.

Could've made a stack.

Really?

Mm.

Afraid so.

So it's been a bit of a blow, then, has it?

That's life, Lovejoy.

[ Engine turns over ] You switched them?

I had to.

[ Metal rattling ] Tink, I just had that feeling, you know?

So I kept a couple of my letters back and had them compared in a lab to those in the officers' mess.

Theirs were the originals.

You're gonna wind up in court or worse still, court-martialed.

You know what the bloody Army are like.

I'm not going to sell them.

I just want the Fairfaxes to have the real ones.

The Army will never know.

They're just stuck in some museum next to hussars' hats and Crimean War medals.

That Sophy has really addled your brains, Lovejoy.

No.

SOPHY: Okay.

Well, tell me the worst.

LOVEJOY: There is no doubt that your letters are the authentic letters.

[ Laughs ] Oh, thank God.

Do you really think we might get £10,000?

I think we could, but there's a snag.

What's that?

Who was Lady Fairfax 'round about 1918?

Uh, 1918.

That would've been... my great-grandmother.

Why?

Seems the old bird sold the Royal Suffolk Yeomanry forged copies.

She was as hard up as you are.

I think your brother's trial will be a big enough disgrace for the Fairfax family without bringing great-grandma into it, don't you?

Well, I suppose so.

I'm still desperately short of cash, though.

You've got a house here full of things with much less sentimental attachments than these letters.

What do you mean?

I mean... why don't you keep the letters, all of them, and let me organize an auction for you?

I don't know how to thank you.

Yes, you do.

You can start by having dinner with me and then a trip to Venice, and then you can have my child.

[ Laughs ] It's the girl in the letters you're in love with.

No, it's not.

[ Horn honks ] Unfortunately, my heart is promised to another.

Nick's in the Army.

Ensign?

Lieutenant.

We're getting married soon.

[ Liquid pouring ] LOVEJOY: Nick was quite a nice fella, really, for a hooray.

[ Laughs ] Anyway, I'm going to organize an auction for her to sell some stuff from Winton House.

She'll get the cash and she needn't sell the letters.

And her and the young ensign will live happily ever after.

I suppose so.

Well, you got her brother chucked into prison.

Perhaps you could have the fiancé cashiered from the Army.

[ Horn honks ] Well, actually, no, I don't think it is a touching story.

I think you're going soft in the head.

I mean, look at this lot.

There's nothing here worth more than £400.

Oh, you're teaching me.

I like it.

You could have been £5,000 richer from those letters.

LOVEJOY: Don't give me a hard time, Eric.

It's for the, uh, family honor.

Oh, yeah.

I can just see you worrying about her if she was fat and frumpy.

She's not, is she?

[ Indistinct conversations ] Morning, ladies and gentlemen.

We'll start with lot 200 on the hymn sheet.

The fine rosewood sideboard with carved legs and Georgian-style door handles.

Shall we say £300?

Come, now.

It's worth £300, surely.

Who'll give me £200, then?

£200.

Thank you, sir.

£220.

£240.

£260 I'm bid.

£280?

£280.

£300 anywhere?

Do I hear £300?

I'm selling, then, at £280.

Are you all done?

Lot 201 -- a set of eight dining room chairs with carver.

Victorian.

-Can we see this lot, please?

-TINKER: Here.

Over here!

[ Laughter ] MAN: Thank you, sir.

I'll open at £400.

Do I hear £400?

£300, then.

Must be worth £300, surely.

This is painful.

MAN: £300, then.

It must be worth £300, surely.

What's the matter with you all?

These are fine Victorian chairs.

WOMAN: £190.

MAN: No, no, no.

I'll take £245.

Absolute bargain here.

£245.

I'm selling, then, at a maiden bid.

Are you all done?

[ Taps gavel ] Lot 202.

Box of bric-a-brac.

Where do you want to start?

A fiver?

Three quid, then.

A bit bloody slow.

What is it, Tink?

There's nothing to give them a buzz.

Stuff's all right.

There's a couple of really sweet pieces that that thieving brother didn't nick.

I think they're waiting for you to start.

They've seen you nosing around.

If you start bidding, they'll bid against you and we'll get this whole thing off the ground.

The next lot is a pretty little pen-and-ink drawing -- girl sitting on a bridge beside a water mill.

Amanda?

It's dated on the back June 1814, and it's signed Richard Parker.

How did I miss that?

Not in the catalog, this one.

It's a new entry.

Where do you want to start me, then?

Shall we say £10?

£10 I'm offered.

Thank you.

Come, now.

Sure-- £20.

Mr. Lovejoy, £20.

£30?

£40?

-£50?

-£80.

MAN: £100?

£120.

£140.

£160.

£180.

That'll do, boss.

You can pull out now.

MAN: £200.

This really is a rare and delightful item.

Signed and dated.

Richard Parker.

£220.

£240.

£260.

£280.

£300.

£300.

£380.

£390.

Thank you, sir.

Can I hear £400?

£400, Mr. Lovejoy.

£410.

£420.

Mr. Lovejoy, £430.

£440.

Thank you, madam.

TINKER: Leave it out, Lovejoy.

It's not worth £60, never mind £440.

-It's worth it to me.

-£450, Mr. Lovejoy.

Do you mean you want it?

It's a lady I've come to know very well.

-MAN: £460.

-[ Crowd murmuring ] £470.

£480.

Mr. Lovejoy?

TINKER: You've flipped.

He's finally flipped.

Talk sense to him, Charlie, for God's sake.

£490 for that drawing, Lovejoy, and I'll take you to court tomorrow for back rent.

At £480.

Are you all done?

JANE: £500.

MAN: New face.

I'm selling then, to the lady at the back of the hall for £500.

-[ Taps gavel ] -[ Crowd murmuring ] Thanks.

I'll, uh, I'll be in the pub.

I'm pleasantly surprised.

You netted £7,310.

Oh!

That's wonderful!

It's twice what you expected.

It's all down to that little drawing, really.

From £10 to £500.

That really got their adrenaline going.

A sale needs something like that, you know.

Mm.

I like it.

It's the best commission I ever had.

I'd like you to take this.

Without you, there'd have been no sale.

-I couldn't.

-Oh, yes, you could.

Well, I'd settle for... MAN: I'll be off, then.

Thank you very much again for all your help.

Maybe not.

Earn yourself a few quid, did you?

Your rent, Charlie.

No.

Forget it.

I owe you one, Lovejoy.

You owe me?

Where'd I go wrong?

I never realized the value of those letters until you put me in the picture.

So I went over to the Suffolk Yeomanry's mess.

I know the colonel there.

Shoots at my place.

Uses the boat occasionally.

Very chummy.

So he was quite amenable to the deal.

What deal?

I gave them some Peninsular War artifact, 10 grand, and, uh, they gave me the letters.

Sunday Times, News of the World, full syndication.

Yeah.

Should make quite a stack.

That was the expression you used, wasn't it, Lovejoy?

[ Laughs ] I'll pay you back.

Oh, don't be silly.

It's my present.

I found out the real value of my clock.

Those letters really got to you, didn't they?

Well, look at her.

Miss Emma Fairfax.

I knew she'd be beautiful.

That's what this is all about.

You know, one could almost become fond of you, Lovejoy.

What do you mean?

Well, I don't know much about watermarks, but did they do Basildon Bond airmail in 1815?

You're joking.

Yes.