In late Victorian London lived many detectives who were the rivals of Sherlock Holmes.

It's all right, Parkinson.

I'll pour the coffee.

Thank you, sir.

Will that be all, sir?

Yes, thank you.

-Good night, sir.

-Good night, Parkinson.

-Good night, Inspector.

-Good night, Parkinson.

It's a funny thing, sir.

Nothing seems to go on anywhere now, but you'll find some trace of it in London if you bother to look.

In the right quarter.

Why, yes.

Black or cream?

Cream, please.

But 9 times out of 10, there's no reason why anybody should be looking in the right place at the right moment.

And the result is?

What you call a first-class crime.

[ Chuckles ] Don't get up.

I'll bring it.

-Here, sir.

-I know where you are.

A first-class crime.

The State Antonio 5% Bonds.

Exactly, sir.

The West Hampstead Lost Memory puzzle and the Baripur bomb conspiracy.

Well, Mr. Carrados, you got that lot, didn't you, eh?

You got that lot, Inspector, safely behind bars.

I only got them because you got them.

Brandy -- to celebrate one of our many successes.

After all that wine?

After all that dinner, you need a digestive.

[ Chuckles ] Tell me, Inspector Beedel, is the law making any mistakes in the case of the Ayr Street Post Office raid?

So that's why you invited me to dinner, sir.

Yes.

Well, I fancy the defense has got something up its sleeve.

I don't know what.

But poor Lizzie Baxter has hardly got a chance of pulling through.

And if she dies, the charge will no longer be robbery with violence but willful murder.

Yes.

So, a special effort will be made to get an acquittal before the graver charge comes in.

Yes.

The magistrates' court proceedings are...tomorrow?

That's right, sir.

I shall come and take a look.

That is, I shall come and listen.

[ Chuckles ] You see more with no eyesight than most people with it.

Inspector, tell me, do you think this post office raid could turn out to be a first-class crime?

I'm trying to persuade my superiors at the Yard it has all the makings.

Call Philip Thaxted.

Philip Thaxted!

[ Indistinct conversations ] Put the book in your right hand.

Repeat after me.

I swear by Almighty God...

I swear by Almighty God... ...the evidence I shall give... ...the evidence I shall give... ...shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

-Morning, Mr. Carrados.

-Morning, Huntley.

Post office raid?

I trust.

Defense just opened.

-Would you like a seat, sir?

-I may.

Who are conducting?

Mr. Booker for the public prosecutor.

I don't know the defense man.

Not one of our regulars.

-You are Philip Thaxted?

-Yes.

-That's the defense man?

-Yes, sir.

Formerly a lace merchant on your own account, but now retired.

Yes.

Mr. Thaxted, would you tell the court where you were on the afternoon of Wednesday the 17th, inst.

I was taking a walk in Richmond Park.

DALBY: Would you speak up, Mr. Thaxted?

The court may not be able to hear you.

On the afternoon you mention, I was taking a walk in Richmond Park.

Yes, sir?

DALBY: Can you be precise about the time of this walk?

I was in the park from 20 minutes to 4:00 until 10 minutes to 5:00.

I should like a seat.

Right, sir.

Mr. Dalby, I fail to see where -- The evidence of this witness will prove that the accused, Dennis Rank, is innocent of robbery with violence, that on the day and time in question he could not have been in Ayr Street Post Office since he was in Richmond Park.

MAGISTRATE: Ah, I see.

Mr. Thaxted, do you recognize the accused, Dennis Rank?

I do.

DALBY: Will you be so good as to look at the accused, Dennis Rank, and tell the court whether you have seen him before and, if so, where and when?

Mr. Thaxted?

I saw the accused once before, between half past 4:00 and a quarter to 5:00, on the afternoon of Wednesday, the 17th of this month, in Richmond Park.

[ Spectators murmuring ] Inspector Beedel, sir.

Inspector!

You must think me rather unreasonable to drag you out here.

BEEDEL: Not at all, sir.

-Good evening, Mr. Greatorex.

-Good evening, Inspector.

And I'm just sure it's to hear something to my advantage.

-A drink?

-Well... Too late for tea, too early for dinner.

Something long and cool, if I may.

This is the hottest summer I've ever known.

Parkinson, something long and cool for all of us.

Yes, sir, something long and cool.

I heard you were in court.

Yes.

That was a bit of a facer -- Mr. Thaxted.

But the magistrate committed Dennis Rank for trial.

Aw, magistrates are wary birds.

They don't like to take any chances.

Now, we've got a case.

A purely circumstantial one, but it's a good case.

Except for the evidence of Mr. Thaxted.

[ Sighs ] That's it.

If that chap sticks to his tale at the Old Bailey, I don't think any jury will convict.

Who is Mr. Thaxted?

Well, we got on to that straightaway, sir.

I'm sure you did.

Merchant in a good way of business, creditable public record extending over 20 years, and that's the trouble.

He's not the sort that'll bob up, prepared to swear anything for half a quid and a pot of beer.

He's a first-class witness.

For a first-class alibi.

A very convincing story.

I didn't bring the transcript with me.

I dictated it to Greatorex when I got back.

Greatorex, would you... Mr. Thaxted was walking in Richmond Park.

Half past 4:00, a little dog coming out of a clump of bracken barked at him furiously.

He swished at it with his stick.

Then it seized one of his trouser legs and tore it.

The dog's master appeared on the scene, and they fell to abusing one another, the owner accusing him of striking the dog, he accusing the man of keeping a vicious animal.

In the end, Thaxted demanded the fellow's name and address and wrote it in the notebook, together with the date and the exact time of the occurrence.

Providential, don't you think?

What else would make you write down the name and address of a complete stranger?

And Dennis Rank does have a small terrier that might have behaved like that.

And doubtless Mr. Thaxted has a pair of trousers that have been suitably torn.

BEEDEL: No doubt.

What's behind this business, Beedel?

The Ayr Street Post Office raid was no ordinary outrage.

You know that as well as I do.

What do you mean, sir?

I am suggesting that you investigate whether Mr. Thaxted's family history has any Irish in it.

Well, now, sir, you are following exactly my own train of thought.

Ah, Parkinson, with the drinks.

Don't look surprised.

I heard the ice on the sides of the glasses.

Something long and cool, sir.

Ahh.

The Irish Republican Brotherhood -- "The Cause," they call it.

Yes, sir.

And you'd be surprised at the people who are in with them.

The retired lace merchant from Kingston?

All sorts.

Professional men, soldiers, civil servants, society ladies, dock laborers.

Some of them no more Irish than you or me.

What were they after at Ayr Street Post Office?

Well, at the moment -- Inspector, I do have a list of the public offices and government departments that send their mail through Ayr Street, including registered mail.

I don't know if it was to secure something or to stop something going.

But in any case, Lizzie Baxter was not shot because she was holding on to the money but because she stood between Rank and the letters.

She hasn't spoken yet?

And she probably never will.

Now, she might have identified Rank.

Without her and with Mr. Thaxted's evidence, Rank will leave that court a free man.

Oh, I don't think so.

BEEDEL: Huh?

Why?

Parkinson, Greatorex, where was I between 4:00 and 10 to 5:00 on the afternoon of Wednesday, the 17th of this month.

You were -- Parkinson?

BOTH: You were taking a walk in Richmond Park.

What?

My habitual walk of a fine afternoon, and the afternoon was almost excessively fine.

[ Birds chirping ] I know every inch of those paths so well I can indulge my -- I hope innocent -- vanity of playing at not being blind.

And whom did I meet and talk with there from a quarter past 4:00 until a quarter to 5:00?

One, two, three.

-Mr. Thaxted.

-Mr. Thaxted.

I don't believe it.

For once I was in exactly the right place at precisely the right moment!

[ Birds chirping ] There is a bench overlooking a deep expanse of country, which I use so often the prospect is now known as Blind Man's View.

At a quarter past 4:00 -- and you know I can tell the time as well as you can -- a stranger came and sat by me.

Whew.

[ Exhales ] Glorious day.

Ah.

Rather too hot to me, I'm afraid.

If the summer goes on like this, I shall escape to Iceland.

I am not quite English.

I worship the sun.

Do you mind if I pollute the atmosphere?

Not at all.

-Would you care to?

-Thank you, no.

Splendid view from here.

It is my favorite.

What's that place over there?

Do you happen to know?

Forgive me.

Which way are you pointing?

Over there.

If you give me a compass bearing, I can tell you.

Otherwise, I'm afraid not.

I beg your pardon.

CARRADOS: It is an admission I do not care to make.

Sometimes it is necessary.

I am blind.

We discussed carnation growing and other impersonal topics.

We walked together as far as the gate and parted at 10 minutes to 5:00.

-Thank you, Parkinson.

-Thank you, sir.

And you swear it was him?

I do not mistakes voices.

He took a fairish risk with his perjury.

He met a blind stranger.

It must have seemed perfectly safe.

You're willing to give evidence, sir?

It will repay a trifle of my debt to you.

[ Chuckles ] That's a pretty good weight already.

Ah, now, when they ask, "Do you see this man in court --" They must ask, "Do you hear this man?"

The jury may not think that satisfactory.

If I say the man I sat and walked with is an ardent carnation grower, smokes Algerian cigars, bites his fingernails, has varicose veins in his left leg, and wears an elastic stocking?

[ Chuckling ] Fingernails?

We shook hands when we parted.

-And the varicose veins?

-A guess.

I could hear a slight limp and the stocking.

That might do the trick.

-Greatorex.

-Sir.

Oh.

I am booked for the Old Bailey from Tuesday, fortnight onwards.

-I'll put it in the diary.

-Thank you.

One thing.

Did Thaxted recognize you in court?

He may or may not have.

Why?

One of our witnesses has been run down while cycling.

And I've had a natty-looking box of chocolates by post from an unknown admirer.

They'll stick at nothing to get Rank off.

Then I must...take precautions.

Take the Bible in your right hand.

I swear by Almighty God that that is my name and handwriting and that that, the contents of my affidavit, is true.

Sworn at Richmond, in the county of Surrey.

Yes, that's all correct, Mr. Carrados.

Thank you, Mr. Marley.

Parkinson will show you to your cab.

-Parkinson?

-Yes, sir.

-Good day to you, Mr. Carrados.

-Good day.

-This way, sir.

-Thank you.

And now, with a clear conscience, -I can go for my walk.

-Ready when you are.

Greatorex, I'm tired of having you dogging my footsteps.

-A precaution.

-It destroys all my pleasure.

I'll keep out of earshot, if it's possible to do that with you.

Do better than that.

Give me five minutes' start.

Well, then I shan't feel that you're following me.

Respectfully, no, sir.

Five minutes?

I insist.

I order you, as your employer.

GREATOREX: I only hope you'll -- [ Door closes ] I only hope you'll continue to be my employer.

[ Insects chirping, bells chiming ] Well, he didn't forbid me to run.

MAN: That's right, governor.

A tall toff in a gray suit.

What is it, Parkinson?

Message from Mr. Carrados, sir.

GREATOREX: What?

He took the first cab in the rank, sir.

He throws me half a dollar and says, "Drive to the turrets and tell them I've got to see Inspector Beedel."

-Something like that?

-Beedel, yes.

Then he hollers, "Scotland Yard, fast as you can!"

And off he goes.

-Thank you, cabby.

-Ooh, thank you, gov.

I knew as soon as he was out of my sight he'd be up to something.

Two people coming this way.

A man and a woman.

The woman has a stick.

She is blind?

This will do.

Sit down here.

Now, you don't mind, Arabella?

No, no, but please don't be long.

I promise I won't.

ARABELLA: It's just that I'm so helpless by myself.

10 minutes at the utmost.

-All right, then.

-I'll run.

I'll take your stick.

It'll help me ferret about.

Oh, please, as quick as you can.

And there's a gentleman here.

I'm sure he'll look after you.

Sir, could I possibly ask you -- I shall be delighted.

There.

I'm off.

Back in a twinkling.

He was sitting on the grass.

His pocketbook must have fallen out.

I'm sure he'll find it.

And I can't help him look for it because, as you see, I'm blind.

Max Carrados, you're as fond of showing off as a child with a recitation.

I'm truly sorry that you cannot enjoy this magnificent view.

Yes.

Would you like me to describe it to you?

Please.

[ Doorbell rings ] Inspector.

Morning, old Parkinson.

Mr. Carrados in?

But he's gone to Scotland Yard to see you, sir.

He's what?

How long ago?

PARKINSON: Not long.

Damnation.

Yes, sir.

[ Birds chirping ] Is it 10 minutes yet?

Oh, it must be more.

About 17, I'm afraid.

Charles Stringer is a dear fellow but absolutely impossible.

I'm sure he can't find his pocketbook, and so he's gone to the park keepers or the police.

I shall be charmed to stay here with you.

Would you see me to Heriot Lane?

As you wish.

Charles is impossible.

He could be any length of time.

But I have my carriage waiting there.

Do you know Heriot Lane?

Indeed, I do.

Vanity, Carrados.

But I do know the way well.

May I offer you my arm?

I see.

Right.

Well?

Mr. Carrados would have arrived at the Yard by now.

He has not arrived.

[ Birds chirping ] Can you see a carriage?

No, I'm afraid I can't.

[ Horse nickers, metal clanking ] Ah, yes, it's over there.

Thank you so much.

It's a pleasure.

Good afternoon, Mr. Carrados.

Mnh!

[ Exhales, moans lightly ] Ah.

So, you're coming around now, aren't you, and feeling just a trifle sick at first, I've no doubt.

[ Inhales sharply ] Where am I?

Now, there's a question you shouldn't trouble yourself about, Mr. Carrados.

You're with us.

That's all that matters.

Where?

You'll understand there may be strategic reasons against letting on which end of Park Lane this mansion is and whether your host is a retired aristocrat or a rabid revolutionary.

The Irish Republican Brotherhood.

I was right.

Faith, Mr. Carrados.

You're in as bad a situation as if you'd been wrong.

What do you imagine you're going to do with me?

You're here because you intended giving evidence in a case that was no concern of yours.

And you'll stay here till that little matter is satisfactorily disposed of.

I hope and believe that justice will be done, that Dennis Rank will be found guilty.

I'd advise you to keep that sort of remark in your britches pocket while you're here, Mr. Carrados.

This once your blind eyes protect you.

They often have.

They often will.

[ Chuckles ] Don't be too sure of that, Mr. Carrados.

I've checked with all the cabbies on that rank.

No one picked him up.

And the driver who came here?

He must have been waiting down the road until he saw Mr. Carrados go by.

I'm a raving idiot not to have insisted.

They got to know his times, his regular walks.

He was kidnapped in the park.

That's for certain.

Where do you think he is now, sir?

I don't know.

What makes it worse, Lizzie Baxter died this afternoon.

The charge will be willful murder, but with her dead and him missing, I doubt if I'll get a conviction.

But if I do, I'm not sure I give much for Mr. Carrados' chances.

Extra!

Extra!

Missing witness sensation!

Read all about it!

Max Carrados missing!

Extra!

Extra!

Read all about it!

Max Carrados missing!

Missing witness sensation!

[ Bells chiming ] Half past eight.

I like to keep count of the days and hours.

Don't you care for conversation?

Or is it that I might recognize your voice?

I suppose it doesn't matter if you do.

Ah, Mr. Stringer.

-An alias, I presume.

-Yes.

But an Englishman.

English Catholic, brought up in Ireland.

Ah.

Both of you?

-What?

-There is a marked similarity.

I take it the young lady is your sister.

She sounded...charming.

If I may say so, very good-looking.

[ Chuckles ] Well, she is.

Grub up!

Mr. -- Um, I'm afraid I don't know your name.

Let's call it Murphy, for fun.

Mr. Murphy, do you think I could have newspapers?

What good would a newspaper be to you?

Well, the trial of Dennis Rank begins tomorrow.

MURPHY: There will be no newspapers here.

I have money.

And you can buy them around the corner, in the Jamaica Road.

MURPHY: God in heaven.

What did I want to do a thing like that for?

I'll get a dustpan and a mop.

Shall we dine?

I must ask you to guide me around the broken glass.

It's not in your way.

Ah.

Aren't you joining me tonight?

I'm afraid you're wrong about Jamaica Road.

-Am I?

-Quite wrong.

The glorious sun shines in, even through these grimy windows.

Well, what's that got to do with it?

I can tell the points of the compass, and I can hear Big Ben at a great distance, I'd say -- forgive me, I have had practice in these things -- about three miles.

Look at a map, Mr. Stringer.

Three miles due east of Big Ben is Bermondsey, towards Rotherhithe.

Shall I go on?

I tell you, you're wrong.

I can sometimes hear ships' sirens not too far to the north, closer the traffic of the main road, very close to the east during the day, birds singing and children playing.

It must be Southwark Park, just south of the Jamaica Road.

Do sit down.

Your food will get cold.

He does know.

Well, how will that help him?

[ Chuckles ] Mr. Carrados, you're a terrible showoff.

Mm-hmm.

[ Indistinct conversations ] M'Lud, may I at this point respectfully request that this trial should be adjourned and put back to a day to be appointed?

On what grounds, Mr. Booker?

On the ground, M'Lud, that a witness for the Crown of the greatest importance has disappeared, has, in all likelihood, been kidnapped, and I use that word advisedly.

M'Lud, on behalf of my client, I oppose the request.

[ Whistling ] Reading the Good Book, Mr. Springer?

MURPHY: Well, now, isn't that nice?

The judge is on our side.

The trial is going ahead?

Even in the absence of the Crown's witness of the greatest importance.

I should be grateful to hear what it says in your newspaper.

[ Laughs ] I couldn't do that, Mr. Carrados.

There's a whole column here recounting your achievements as a detective.

A sad comedown for you, Mr. Carrados.

Perhaps you will think differently tomorrow.

Mr. Thaxted, I must ask you to be very careful in the answers you give to my questions.

You will be, won't you?

Certainly.

Mr. Thaxted, would it be correct to describe you as an ardent grower of carnations?

[ Chuckles ] Yes, it would.

BOOKER: Mr. Thaxted, I believe you carry a cigar case.

Yes, I do.

Would you be so good as to show it to the court?

Does it contain cigars at this moment, Mr. Thaxted?

THAXTED: Yes.

BOOKER: Are they Algerian cigars?

THAXTED: Yes.

M'Lud, as -- as Mr. Thaxted admits -- freely admits that the cigars are Algerian, I hardly think it's necessary to -- No, no.

You may put it away, Mr. Thaxted.

Mr. Booker, I myself freely admit that I'm failing to follow your line of questioning.

If you would have a moment's patience, M'Lud.

Mr. Thaxted, is it true that you bite your fingernails?

Yes.

BOOKER: Down to the quick on most fingers?

-Yes.

-Mr. Booker -- A moment more, M'Lud, and I have done.

Mr. Thaxted, do you suffer from varicose veins in your left leg?

Yes.

And do you wear an elastic stocking on that leg?

Yes.

Would you kindly pull up your trouser leg?

I hardly think that is necessary.

BOOKER: As you wish, M'Lud.

Thank you, Mr. Thaxted.

That is all.

JUDGE: Mr. Dalby, does the defense wish to re-examine?

No, M'Lud.

Thank you, Mr. Thaxted.

[ Indistinct conversations ] Mr. Booker, I confess I am still somewhat adrift.

The explanation is simple, M'Lud.

I hope so.

I have established certain facts with regard to Mr. Thaxted.

These facts are highly relevant to my endeavor to prove that Mr. Thaxted is a perjured witness... M'Lud!

...in that he was not with Dennis Rank at that place, at that time, on that day, and could not possibly have been since at that place, at that time, on that day, he was with a certain Mr. Max Carrados, who gleaned from him the facts that I have now established.

-M'Lud, I object.

-Oh, sit down, Mr. Dalby.

What counsel is saying is not evidence.

Mr. Booker, are you producing Mr. Carrados as a witness?

I had intended to call him, M'Lud, in rebuttal of Mr. Thaxted's evidence.

Unfortunately, the entire police force of Great Britain is unable to locate Mr. Carrados.

I can, however -- and shall, with your permission -- produce witnesses who will prove to the court's satisfaction that Mr. Carrados has been kidnapped, if not, indeed, killed, and the only possible motive for this criminal act was the desire to suppress his evidence.

I shall therefore, M'Lud, ask you to accept as evidence an affidavit signed, sworn by Mr. Carrados immediately prior to his kidnapping.

M'Lud, I object.

A affidavit is secondary evidence, not admissible in a criminal trial.

That is so, Mr. Booker.

M'Lud, I accept that an affidavit is not primary or best evidence.

However, if I may quote precedent?

I am aware of the precedents.

I shall have to consider the matter.

Meanwhile, you may proceed with your other witnesses.

Thank you, M'Lud.

Call Mr. Greatorex.

Stand up for the captain!

Damn you, Carrados!

You might have guessed that I would take precautions.

So, the judge has accepted my affidavit.

He's considering the matter overnight.

I'm sure he'll come to the right conclusion.

[ Silverware clanking ] I advise you to pray that he does not.

Remarkably quiet this morning.

Usually there are seven men moving about below or clumping up and down the stairs.

[ Coughs ] Did you know that each man's footstep is individual and unmistakable?

Are you determined not to have conversation?

I'm not going to let you escape.

Which means the thought has crossed your mind.

Yes, but I'm not going to.

I can't.

I won't insult you by offering you gold, unless you would care to be insulted.

No.

Then my only chance is your conscience.

You believe that Ireland should be freed from the yoke of the English tyrant.

Oddly enough, I entirely agree with you.

What?

The thing I do not agree with is shooting Lizzie Baxter.

And neither do you.

Where you on the post office raid?

No.

A pity, in a way.

It would have been an education.

You'd have seen Lizzie Baxter go down with a bullet in her breast.

If it was just me, I'd let you go.

Isn't it just you alone in the house?

They'd call me traitor, come after me, kill me, I suppose.

I don't mind that.

Don't you?

You are indeed a romantic.

It's just that I -- I'm frightened that the punishment might include my sister.

The girl with the charming voice?

My dear fellow, say no more.

Don't give it another thought.

I will not even try to escape, so long as you are with me.

Thank you, Inspector.

I'm sure you will.

I know you understand.

Of course.

One of us will be by the telephone night and day.

Goodbye.

Rank has been condemned to death.

And Mr. Carrados?

Still not a trace, nothing.

The captain!

Right.

Let the prisoner go.

And sit down.

Shall I give him a chair?

Was Dennis Rank given a chair once during the three days of his trial?

-He was not!

-No.

Then let the prisoner stand.

A prisoner is usually charged with an offense.

May I ask what mine is?

Conveying information to the enemy.

The law is the enemy of no one but a criminal.

The English law and the English police are the enemies of all those who fight for freedom.

Oh, is it a war, then?

It is.

You're a casualty of war, Mr. Carrados.

Consider yourself as such.

It may make you feel better.

-[ Laughter ] -Be quiet!

Sorry, Captain.

Carrados, it concerns you to know that this afternoon Dennis Rank was found guilty and sentenced to death.

That was the natural result of your kidnapping me, wasn't it?

It was the natural result of your damned affidavit!

Not at all.

The affidavit itself was of no great importance.

What was important was the evidence given proving that I had been kidnapped.

You simply advertised that my evidence was true and that you daren't let it be given at any price.

Now, now, Captain, what did I tell you?

-I did tell you -- -Will you both shut up?!

If you had allowed me to go into the witness box, it would have been perfectly simple for your counsel to suggest that I was either mistaken or a liar.

One man's word against another's.

How can you believe the blind man against the man with sight?

You did the wrong thing, Captain.

You're not here to express your personal views, but to listen to the decision of this court.

Very well.

An appeal has been lodged against Dennis Rank's sentence.

Now, if there is anything that you can do to help that appeal, I should start to think about it now.

I dislike any attempt to coerce me.

CAPTAIN: Do you, now?

A personal view, but I hold to it.

And do you dislike any attempt to save your own life?

Under coercion, yes.

Don't think you can ride your high horse here, with your damned personal view and your infernal five-cent style.

Just call it to mind that you are not dealing with your own shilly-shallying, Dublin Castle trash!

You're dealing with men who mean what they say.

You are also dealing with a man who means what he says.

Write a letter to your comrade Inspector Beedel.

[ Chuckles ] Write a letter to the Home Secretary.

He's a dinner guest of yours now, isn't he, huh?

[ Chuckles ] I would say that was a fair bargain.

They release Dennis Rank, and we release you.

It is not a fair bargain.

I have committed no crime.

That is for this court to decide.

Gentlemen, do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?

-Guilty!

-Guilty!

And did I hear you utter, now?

You can't kill a blind man!

And why not?!

He's got less to lose.

[ Chuckling ] Is it the wish of this court that I should now pronounce sentence?

-Yes!

-Yes!

Max Carrados, the sentence of this court is that you have seven days left in which to save another man's life and your own.

You can live if Dennis Rank goes free.

But I tell you this -- the hour that the black flag goes up upon Brixton jail for Dennis Rank, your family will have cause to go into mourning, too.

I'm afraid your eloquence is wasted on me.

I have no family.

Seven days, Mr. Carrados.

Your new home, Mr. Carrados.

Be it ever so humble, it's better than many an Irishman has.

Hold on a minute.

I'll bring you the blessings of gaslight.

Now, Mr. Carrados, with your kind permission, I'll have the contents of your pockets.

[ Exhales heavily ] One pocketbook.

Now, do you want me to count what money's in this?

-I know what's in it.

-I know you do.

Your fingers can tell a fiver from a tenner at a glance.

[ Chuckles ] One bunch of keys, variegated... one watch... one watch and chain, Mr. Carrados.

I can do no harm with a watch.

One silver hunter.

And what would you want to know the time for?

It's always night in here.

Anything else?

One handkerchief.

Well, as a special concession, you can keep the handkerchief.

Thank you.

Your belongings will be restored intact in the event of your being released... which is in your own power, Mr. Carrados.

Now, would you like pen and ink?

No, thank you.

Mr. Carrados, you'll understand it's a matter entirely awaiting your own personal convenience whether your ultimate destination is to be the recuperation camp or the wayside cemetery.

I have an idea that my ultimate destination will be the witness box.

God, you're a whimsical fellow, Mr. Carrados.

It is 10:00 in the morning... on day one.

[ Doorknob rattles ] Dinner.

1:00 in the afternoon, day two.

I apologize for the lack of a table.

Is the weather as fine as ever?

The water companies are going out of their minds.

I guess it's lucky I'm not a water drinker.

And you're lucky down here, Mr. Carrados.

In fact, you're the coolest man in London.

I should prefer to be in the sun.

Oh, count your blessings, Mr. Carrados.

Now, do you want pen and ink?

No, thank you.

[ Door closes ] [ Bolt slams ] MURPHY: Dinner.

1:00, day three.

And a fine, broiling day again.

The hottest summer since Queen Victoria mounted to the throne.

Put the tray on the chair, will you?

MURPHY: Do you want pen and ink, Mr. Carrados?

No, thank you.

MURPHY: Well, can you smell your dinner, Mr. Carrados?

[ Sniffs ] Mmm.

Roast pork, potatoes.

Peas.

MURPHY: Do you want pen and ink?

No!

You're as stubborn as a mule!

[ Door closes ] [ Bolt clicks ] 1:00, day five.

There's a visitor for you, Mr. Carrados.

The girl with the charming voice.

Arabella.

I'm sorry I don't know your other name.

I do understand you would prefer me not to know your other name.

-Mr. Carrado-- -May I offer you a chair?

Mr. Carrados, please do what they want.

Would it serve you in any way?

If you don't do what they want, they'll kill you.

Yes, I think that is their intention.

And I shall blame myself for it for the rest of my life.

[ Laughs ] That is the only good argument I've yet heard.

ARABELLA: Please.

Would you mind presenting that argument to the captain?

What do you mean?

Does he care what you blame yourself for?

No.

Then he must not try to take advantage of me... because I care.

You were only captured because you were nice to me.

If you die, it will be my fault.

Oh, but, you see, I don't propose to die.

You'll write the letter?

Oh, no, I don't propose to write the letter, and I don't propose to die.

But you can't escape from here.

No.

-I don't suppose I can.

-But then how -- Arabella, it was my fault that I was kidnapped, not yours, because I was vain.

I am vain.

I'm vain enough to believe in my own survival, even though I haven't the ghost of an idea how I shall manage to survive.

Please, for my sake, write the letter for -- May I ask you one question, to which you must reply in deadly earnest?

Yes?

Did you come here entirely of your own accord?

Or did they tell you to come?

They told me to come.

Thank you.

Arabella, you are honest, but they are...cheats.

I will not do what they say, not for anyone.

Not even for you.

The Home Secretary has received a message, pushed through his door at midnight.

They want to exchange Mr. Carrados for Dennis Rank.

Anonymous?

No name, no address.

Then where can he reply to?

The reply must appear in the agony column of the Times.

And does the Home Secretary agree?

He's not prepared to agree until and unless he receives a letter supporting the request from Mr. Carrados.

Well, at least we know that he's alive and well.

Alive, I suppose.

Well, I hope.

[ Groans lightly ] PARKINSON: Something long and cool, sir?

Something long and cool, sir?

CARRADOS: [ Groans lightly ] PARKINSON: I'm afraid it's only ink.

CAPTAIN: Would you like your dinner, Mr. Carrados?

MURPHY: There's a lovely bowl of soup to start.

CAPTAIN: I'm afraid it's only ink.

MURPHY: I'm afraid it's only ink.

PARKINSON: I'm afraid it's only ink.

CAPTAIN: I'm afraid it's only ink.

MURPHY: I'm afraid it's only ink.

[ Groans loudly ] Night?

No.

Early morning, I think... on day six.

[ Liquid rushing ] I am a blithering idiot!

[ Liquid rushing ] Water!

[ Foot tapping ] Special early edition!

Special early edition!

Max Carrados -- Home Secretary speaks!

Home Secretary speaks!

[ Grunting ] Bravo!

A water pipe.

One way, it leads up to the cistern, the other way up to the mains.

Hottest summer since Victoria came to the throne, and the water companies are going out of their minds.

[ Bell tolling ] Nothing wrong there.

You have a listen this time.

You need to practice.

How can I listen when my stomach's rumbling?

You'll get your breakfast as soon as we've done to the corner.

Have to finish soon.

Traffic will be starting up.

Can't hear nothing.

The Southwark and Vauxhall Water Company is losing thousands of gallons a day.

Give it a proper go.

Yeah.

There is a leak.

A leak, eh?

Yeah, that's funny.

Leaks are not funny to the Southwark and Vauxhall Water Company!

No.

It's like someone tapping on a pipe.

[ Tapping ] Yes.

Yes, that's tapping, all right, definitely tapping.

Well, what's doing it?

It could be something loose knocking against the pipe.

Could be a raving lunatic.

Can't sleep, nothing better to do than lie there with a stick in his hand.

We ain't supposed to go around checking on tappings.

Coming from the immediate neighborhood of the leak, I'd say.

Look, I know we've got to report the leak, but after breakfast.

You and your breakfast!

Well, there's nothing that says we got to report tapping.

-Shh!

Do you hear that?

-Well, of course I didn't.

"Duh duh duh, da da da, duh duh duh."

If such a thing was credible, I'd say someone was talking Morse along that pipe.

Morse?

Get some education, lad.

Get some education.

What for?

12 years with the Colours, out in India with the Dirty Half-Hundred, the gallant West Kent boys -- Signals Platoon!

I know you was in India.

What's that got to do with this?

If you'd have been in India, you'd have met queerer things than this -- bed of nails, rope trick!

"Duh duh duh, da da da, duh duh duh."

Yeah.

Well?!

"S.O.S."

S.O.S.?

Spanner.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

W... H... O... CARRADOS: A... R... E... Y... O... U.

"Who are you?"

[ Banging on pipe ] MAN: ...D... O... S. Got that down?

Max Carrad-os.

What's that mean?

You got that newspaper on you?

CAPTAIN: Well, if he's not willing now, he never will be.

MURPHY: Given that he's in a state to have any volition at all.

You're a hard man, Captain.

Holy Mother of God, what's gone on here?

Hey, what do you think you're up to?

Good morning, gentlemen.

I hope I find you well.

Upstairs with him.

Grab for the edges, Sergeant!

All right, they're down here!

[ Indistinct shouting ] What is this, Captain?

Are you all right, Mr. Carrados?

First-class, Inspector.

One warm dressing gown, sir.

Ah.

Something long and cool, sir?

Something hot and fiery, Parkinson.

-Yes, sir.

-[ Chuckles ] BEEDEL: Right.

Good.

Yes.

Thank you.

Well?!

They've got the other one.

So, that's the lot.

-Splendid!

-Splendid!

Making seven.

You did say there were seven of them.

-Seven...men.

-That's right.

Why?

Was there anyone else?

It's just that I want to put in a plea for the one called Stringer.

He did his small best to save my life.

Something hot and fiery, sir.

Thank you, Parkinson.

Sir.

Clever chap -- Stringer.

He lured me to my doom in Richmond Park... ...all by himself.