Good lord!

Albert!

Yes, Mr Beresford?

Do we, by chance, have any scissors?

Scissors?

A two-bladed instrument with handles at one end.

Works by leverage.

Pivots in the middle.

Jolly useful for cutting paper and things.

Oh.

TOMMY CLEARS HIS THROAT Thank you, Albert.

- My pleasure, guv.

Mrs Beresford not gonna with us today?

Oh, yes.

She said she had an important appointment first.

Ah... Something the matter?

Not cutting through the feature page, are you, guv?

No, I don't think so.

Oh, good.

Cos there's an article on The Rat.

I didn't know you were interested in animals.

It's a film.

Starring Ivor Novello.

Oh, I see.

They're gonna make a sequel, The Triumph Of The Rat.

Fascinating.

You like Ivor Novello, do you?

He's highly talented.

Yes, well, I really must try and see him.

Oh, you won't be disappointed, sir.

- Anyone at home?

TOMMY: Tuppence!

I say!

ALBERT: Oh, Mrs Beresford!

What a chic titfer!

SHE LAUGHS I didn't think you'd notice.

You mean you hoped we wouldn't.

So, that was your important appointment was it?

TUPPENCE: Oh, yes.

I know it's wildly extravagant of me, but I found this new little place in South Molton Street, and I just couldn't resist.

South Molton Street?

That's a bit pricey, isn't it?

- Been busy without me?

- Have we, Albert?

Oh, quiet as the grave, miss.

Oh, dear.

Catching up with the news?

Sort of.

TOMMY CLEARS HIS THROAT I think you'll find, er, page 17 is the one you're after.

Oh, thanks, guv.

Mrs Beresford and I are going out for some lunch now, Albert.

So, if anyone comes with a problem for Blunt's Brilliant Detectives, that... TOMMY SIGHS ..simply won't wait, you'll find us at, erm... - The Ritz?

TOMMY: Try again.

That nice little place in Soho?

Our local ABC shop.

- Oh.

- How else are we going to afford that splendid new hat?

Goodbye, Albert.

Excellent.

Couldn't be better.

Why has this craze for the simple life come upon you?

Be patient.

All will come clear.

I wonder now whether one of these haughty damsels will condescend to notice us.

Er...

Excuse me.

Er... Splendid.

She drifts this way.

Doubtless her subconscious mind is seething with such matters as ham and eggs and pots of richly brewed tea.

Yes?

HE CHUCKLES, CLEARS HIS THROAT Er, pork chop, Brussels sprouts, garden peas, please, miss.

Oh, and some fried potatoes.

A large coffee and a roll and butter.

And a plate of tongue.

Plate of tongue.

Chop and fried.

Two veg.

Large coffee.

R&B.

No, this gentleman will just have a cheesecake and a large glass of milk.

- Oh.

Cheesecake.

Glass of milk.

Anything else?

TOMMY: Well... - No, thank you.

That was completely uncalled for.

- Not at all.

- But I hate milk.

And cheesecakes are always so yellow and bilious-looking.

Eurgh!

If you're going to be simple, you might as well do it properly.

Jolly good stuff, cold tongue.

Now then, Tommy, what's this really all about?

I'm not sure I want to tell you.

Shall I call her back and order rice pudding instead?

No, no, no.

Cheesecakes are perfect.

Thank you.

All right.

Well, first of all, and speaking in a strictly unofficial capacity, business isn't too brisk at the moment.

In fact, it just about doesn't exist.

Yes, that's the problem, in a nutshell.

But I have applied my mind to it.

The solution is simple and, I venture to say, quite brilliant.

I'm on tenterhooks.

If business won't come to us, we must go to business.

Sort of Mohammed and the mountain?

- What an original thought.

- Tommy!

Which brings me to the point.

The Sunningdale Mystery.

Ah, the Sunningdale Mystery?

Now, this is a portrait of Captain Anthony Cecil, as it appeared in the Daily Leader.

TUPPENCE: You know, I wonder someone doesn't sue these newspapers sometimes.

I mean, look at that photograph.

It's so blurry.

I mean, you can see it's a man, and that's just about all!

That's feminine vanity.

Oh, rubbish.

Sound common sense.

Be that as it may, when I said the Sunningdale Mystery, I should have said the so-called Sunningdale Mystery.

An enigma to the police, perhaps, but not to the intelligent mind.

Meaning you've solved it already?

No, not exactly.

Plate of tongue.

Cheesecake.

Glass of milk.

Well, go on.

Suddenly, I don't feel very hungry.

SHE CHUCKLES No, no, I mean Captain Cecil!

Oh, I see.

Well, it was about three weeks ago that the gruesome discovery was made.

TOMMY: 'A young couple were enjoying 'an early round on the famous course.

'It was a beautiful morning.

No-one else was about.'

Oh, lord!

Don't worry, Cyril.

I'll help you look.

'They separated.

'And then, after a few minutes...' SHE SCREAMS 'Even before the police arrived, they knew it was Captain Cecil.

'He was a well-known figure on the links, 'and always wore a golf jacket of a particular shade of blue.'

Captain Cecil was often seen out on the course in the early morning, practising.

At first, it was thought he'd had a heart attack.

But he hadn't?

The doctor's examination revealed the significant fact that he'd been murdered.

Stabbed to the heart.

By a woman's hat pin.

He was also found to have been dead for at least 18 hours.

Meaning he must have been killed the previous afternoon?

Precisely.

Darling, it's rude to talk with your mouth full.

Sorry.

Anyway, that put an entirely different complexion on the matter.

Well, obviously.

Now, who was the last person to see Captain Cecil alive?

Well, apart from the murderer, that is.

His close friend and business partner.

Er, Mr Wilfred Hollaby.

Of the Porcupine Assurance Company.

What had happened was this... 'Cecil and Hollaby were enjoying a last round of golf.

'Cecil seemed in good spirits 'and was in excellent form.'

HOLLABY: Bit of luck there, old boy!

'Suddenly, as Cecil approached the 17th tee, 'Hollaby saw someone else.

'A woman appeared.

'There's a public footpath that crosses the course.

'She must have used it.

'She was very tall and dressed in brown.

'Hollaby was astonished to see Cecil 'and the woman talking together.'

Shan't be a minute.

'They walked off in deep conversation.

'The footpath there leaves the course.

'They disappeared.

'Two other players were coming up the course.

'Then, much to Hollaby's relief, Cecil reappeared.'

Are you all right?

Yes, of course.

We'd best get on.

CECIL GROANS Damn.

'But clearly, Cecil wasn't all right.

'Not only did he foozle his drive badly, 'but he also seemed worried, on edge.

'His golf was atrocious.

'Evidently, something had happened 'to put him completely off his game.'

What the devil do you think you're playing at?

A child could have done better.

'The other two players 'were a Major Barnard and a Mr Lecky.

'They were preparing to play off the 17th tee, 'when they noticed something strange 'happening in front of them on the fairway.'

What do you think's going on over there?

Extraordinary business.

I say there... What on earth's got into Cecil?

I'm blessed if I can say.

I've never seen him play so badly.

You, Lecky?

- Never.

Is he not feeling well?

He seemed fine when we started.

There was a woman.

I caught a glimpse of her.

Tall creature, dressed in brown.

She seemed to be waiting for him.

They went off together.

What was it she wanted?

I wish I knew.

'And as far as we can tell, 'they were the last people to see Captain Cecil alive.'

Gosh.

WAITRESS CLEARS THROAT Finished, have you?

Oh, yes.

Thanks.

Well, Tuppence?

- Well, Tommy.

What do you think?

- Is there a Mrs Cecil?

- Yes.

But she was away at the time, visiting friends.

- Children?

- No.

Servants?

A couple, who looked after their cottage.

But it was their day off.

They spent it in town.

Now, who else might have had a motive?

- No-one, apparently.

- And, the police?

Rather baffled.

Ah-ha.

Which brings us back to the mysterious woman in brown.

Who was she?

No-one knows.

Don't worry, it'll only take me half an hour.

- What will?

- Why, packing, of course.

Bound to need a few more clothes.

- Clothes?

- You surely don't expect me to appear on a golf course dressed like this.

So, we're going to be Mohammed, after all, are we?

We are going to be whatever you say, my darling.

And whatever it takes to find the mysterious woman in brown.

Mark my words, she's the key to this murder.

Hello, Albert.

We're off.

What on earth are you waiting for?

I'm just wondering about Doris Evans.

TUPPENCE: Doris Evans?

Yes, she's short, fair, and nothing like the woman in brown.

What on earth has Doris Evans got to do with it?

Everything, it seems.

The police have charged her with the murder.

Oh, dear.

As you say, "Oh, dear."

But there's one thing I'm sure of.

Absolutely convinced.

- What's that?

That you won't finish packing in anything like half an hour.

TUPPENCE: Tommy... Are you sure this is right for Sunningdale?

- Positive.

- Only, according to the map... Oh, don't worry.

It's my own way.

Nicer drive.

Less traffic.

Always used it in the old days.

- Old days?

- Before we met.

I often used to come down here to play.

- Poor Tommy.

- Why poor?

Have I caused you to give up lots of things?

Nothing that I miss.

- Truly?

- Truly.

You'd say, wouldn't you?

You know I would.

Besides, think of all the lovely things that I've... ..gained.

Now, what do we know about Doris Evans?

Not much.

Except that she's been charged with murder.

She denies it, of course, but she's been committed for trial.

- On what evidence?

- Circumstantial.

But pretty damning.

You see, when Cecil's body was examined, they found a strand of fair hair, caught in his fingers.

Twisted round one of the buttons of his coat were a few threads of flame-coloured wool.

It wasn't much to go on, but the police were pretty thorough in their search.

Diligent inquiries led them to the railway station.

ENGINE HISSING TOMMY: 'A young, fair-haired girl, 'in a flame-coloured coat and skirt, 'had arrived on the afternoon of the murder.'

Excuse me.

Could you tell me where I can find Captain Anthony Cecil's house?

Captain Cecil's?

Yes, miss.

It's about half a mile down the road.

A cottage on the left.

Lies back a bit.

You can't miss it.

- Thank you.

TOMMY: 'But two hours later, 'the girl appeared at the station again.

'Her hat was awry, and her hair badly tousled.

'She seemed in a state of great agitation.

'She kept looking over her shoulder, 'as if she was afraid of something... or someone.'

Please... SHE GASPS, SOBS ..how soon is the next train back to town?

With this slender evidence to go on, they managed to track her down.

Good evening, sir.

Good evening, madam.

Good evening.

We'd like your nicest accommodation, please.

With a beautiful view, if that's possible.

I think we can do you, madam.

Ah, yes, what luck.

The Jolly Huntsman suite just happens to be available.

The Jolly Huntsman, eh?

How appropriate.

Yoo-halloo!

TOMMY LAUGHS If you wouldn't mind signing, sir.

Certainly.

By the way, are we being Blunt or Beresford today?

I've no idea.

What do you think?

I don't know.

- You choose.

- Oh, no.

You.

Tricky.

Yes.

How about both?

Good idea.

There we are.

- Mr and Mrs... Beresford-Blunt.

Perfect.

Would you have some tea sent up, please?

Certainly, Mrs...

Yes, madam.

At once.

Thank you.

Just right.

Oh, I am glad we came here.

You are clever, Tommy.

Only doing my bit.

- How's the view?

- Stunning.

Absolutely stunning!

BOTH CHUCKLING - Darling... - Hm?

..what was Doris Evans's story?

Oh.

You really want to hear it?

- Of course.

- I mean, now?

Well, how else am I going to get a feel for the case?

- Well, won't it wait?

- Oh, please!

Oh.

Well, all right.

Doris has always stuck to her original statement.

Yes?

Even under the closest questioning, it's never varied.

- Mm?

- Tups, are you listening?

Of course.

SHE GASPS Got it!

Well, go on.

You talk, I'll unpack.

But that will take ages.

Not if you stick to the point.

Huh.

All right.

Well, concentrate, Tuppence, because I'm only going to say this once.

Quite right.

Doris Evans is young, unmarried and rather pretty.

A good-time girl?

No, far from it.

She's a typist by profession.

- Oh, very respectable.

- Er, quite so.

Which makes what happened all the more inexplicable.

One evening, about a month ago, she went to the cinema.

- By herself?

- Yes.

What was the film?

- I don't know.

- Pity.

- Is it relevant?

- It might have been.

Well, whatever the film was, she went to the flicks.

PIANO MUSIC PLAYING Oh...

Thank you.

- Not at all.

Would you like one?

- I beg your pardon?

- They didn't fall out.

Oh...

Thank you.

Don't mention it.

'And that was all.

Until the programme had ended.'

Oh... - Hello.

- Hello.

Horrid, isn't it?

- Yes.

MAN: Come on, dear.

Might I... offer you any assistance?

Not unless you can make it stop!

BOTH CHUCKLE I'm afraid that's beyond me.

However... - Oh.

In which direction are you going?

Erm, that way.

So am I.

Well, the least I can do is to prevent you from getting drowned.

I shall probably catch my death!

My name is Cecil.

Anthony Cecil.

Oh...

I'm Doris.

Evans.

How do you do?

- Hello.

Well... Ah!

HE CHUCKLES - Miss Evans.

- Thank you.

TOMMY: 'He seemed a perfect gentleman.

'So, when he suggested a visit to a tea shop 'before catching her bus, 'Doris was happy to agree.

'He told her he had a cottage at Sunningdale.

'When Doris asked if he was married, he said no.

'He was a widower.

'She liked him.

'He was charming.

His manners were impeccable.

'He suggested they meet again.

'Doris didn't hesitate to say yes.

'So, it was arranged that she should come down to Sunningdale 'on her next afternoon off.

'Doris was excited and flattered.

'She had always liked... older men.

'So, the following Wednesday, Doris duly arrived.'

HORSE NEIGHING 'She soon found the place.

'But the visit turned out quite differently 'from what she'd expected.'

Hello.

Oh, it's you.

Weren't you expecting me?

HE LAUGHS Yes, of course!

You'd better come in.

CLOCK TICKING - Are you hungry?

- Yes.

Well, let's eat.

- Erm... - Is anything wrong?

- Oh, nothing.

I erm... - SHARPLY: What?

Erm... Is there somewhere I could put my coat?

Oh...

Anywhere will do.

Please... sit down.

It's a bit... remote here.

Yes.

- It's the servants' day off.

- Oh.

So, we... are quite alone.

Are you partial to ham?

Sometimes.

Good.

CUTLERY CLACKING Very good.

It must have been quite a shock for her.

TOMMY: So she says.

Not a bit what she'd imagined.

Poor Doris.

And fancy him pretending not to be married!

Then what?

Cecil continued to behave oddly.

So much so that Doris began to wish she'd never come.

I'm not surprised.

But what caused her to appear at the station in that terrible state?

That came later.

Don't rush me.

- Sorry.

- I'm trying to tell the story as Doris insists that it happened.

And you're doing it wonderfully.

Thank you.

Anyway, they finished the meal, and afterwards, Cecil suggested they go for a walk.

Tuppence?

- In here.

- What on earth are you doing?

Arranging my things.

METAL CLATTERING - Do you need a hand?

- Of course not.

Do you think I'm a baby?

Well, go on.

- Are you sure you can hear me?

- What?

Oh, look, I'm not deaf.

BAG THUDS Look, darling... TUPPENCE: You stay where you are and keep talking.

I'm taking in every word.

Now, then.

Captain Cecil suggested they went for a walk.

Hmm?

They left the cottage and took the path at the back.

It leads directly to the golf course.

'Cecil had lapsed into silence.

'He strode ahead quickly.

'Doris found it hard to keep up.

'As they were coming down the footpath 'leading to the 17th tee...' This is it.

We go no farther.

I don't understand.

It's the end.

What are you talking about?

They'll get me.

They're bound to get me.

I was a fool to think otherwise.

What's the point in trying to hide any more?

- Stop it!

- I'm ruined, do you hear?

I'm done for.

There's no point in going on.

Stop it!

You're frightening me.

Stop it!

But I shan't go alone.

Never alone.

You shall go with me.

- VOICE TREMBLING: No!

Stop it.

They'll get me, all right?

Oh, yes, they'll get me.

SHE GASPS I've cheated them so far.

I'll cheat them last of all.

One bullet for you.

The second for me.

SHE SHRIEKS All they'll find is our bodies, side by side, in death.

SHE SHRIEKS, SOBS 'That is the story Doris Evans tells...' ..and from which she has never once varied.

She strenuously denies ever having struck at him with a hat pin in self-defence.

Although, given the circumstances, it would have been a natural enough thing to do, I suppose.

Anyway, there, for the moment, it rests.

What about the gun?

I beg your pardon?

I said, what about the gun?

According to the story, Cecil waved a gun at her.

Yes.

Yes, a gun was found next day, lying in some bushes, next to the body.

It had not been fired.

I see.

So, that would support Doris's story, wouldn't it?

Possibly.

Although, if we believe her, and, you have to admit it is a pretty big "if", who was it killed Captain Cecil?

Was it the other woman?

The woman in brown, whose appearance so upset him?

So far, no-one's explained her connection with the case.

Quite right.

Who was she?

Was she a local resident, or did she come from London?

If so, did she come by car or by train?

- Ooh.

- What's the matter?

I was just thinking.

If she came down by car, she might have stayed here.

Oh, that's hardly likely.

No, I don't suppose so.

But it's a horrid thought though.

Mmm.

But one thing is certain.

She couldn't have been Doris Evans, because Doris is short and fair and was only just arriving at the station.

The wife?

Cecil's wife?

Mrs Cecil's a short woman, too.

Besides, Hollaby knew her well, remember?

He'd have recognised her the moment she appeared on the course.

Although one further piece of evidence has come to light.

The Porcupine Assurance Company.

Hollaby and Cecil's business.

It's in liquidation.

"The accounts reveal that for years there has been "the most daring misappropriation of funds."

- Embezzlement?

- Precisely.

And neither Hollaby nor his son had any idea what was going on.

His son?

Yes, Holloby's son is in the business, too.

Now, apparently, they're practically ruined.

I see.

So, the case stands like this.

Captain Cecil was on the verge of discovery and ruin.

Suicide would seem a natural way out.

A man doesn't stab himself with a hat pin.

I know.

That's what's so baffling.

I keep coming back to the woman in brown.

Do you think she killed him?

- I don't know.

One thing I'm certain of, she didn't do it.

Doris Evans?

What makes you so sure?

Well, look at her.

She's got bobbed hair.

Only one woman in 20 uses hat pins nowadays, long hair or short.

Hats fit tight.

They pull on.

Hadn't you noticed?

Perhaps she had one by her.

My dear boy, we don't keep them as heirlooms.

What on earth would she have brought a hat pin down to Sunningdale for?

BOTH CHUCKLE No, you're right.

It isn't logical.

It just doesn't fit.

Then it must have been the other one.

The woman in brown.

I wish she hadn't been so tall.

Then it could have been the wife.

I always suspect wives who were away at the time and couldn't possibly have had anything to do with it.

If she'd found her husband carrying on with some girl, it would've been quite natural for her to go for him with her hat pin.

I shall have to be careful, I see.

HE CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY Just... just a joke.

ALARM CLOCK RINGS Good heavens!

I'd completely forgotten something.

What's that?

Well, it's all hours, and we haven't eaten yet.

You must be starving.

- Tommy... - Mm?

Would you mind terribly, if, just this once, we missed dinner tonight?

Oh, I suppose I could try and bear it.

Only, I don't seem to have much of an appetite.

No... Now you come to mention it, er, neither do I.

On... on the other hand, I don't feel particularly sleepy.

I don't, either.

- Tricky.

- Mm.

Let's try and think of something.

Let's.

TUPPENCE: Tommy... TOMMY: Mm?

What sort of man was Captain Cecil really?

Have we any idea?

Highly respectable.

Outwardly.

Pillar of the community and all that sort of thing.

That's what makes it so odd.

Murder's an odd business.

No, I don't mean the murder.

Anyone's capable of that.

Even you and I.

No, I mean the stuff with Doris Evans.

That's what puzzles me.

Picking her up like that.

Why should he do it?

Why should she do it?

Perhaps he led a secret life.

The original whited sepulchre.

No, I don't think so.

I wonder what the Cecils were really like.

What do people say about them?

As far as I can make out, they were very popular.

Local committees.

Good works.

Were they happy?

Supposedly devoted to each other.

He's an ex-soldier, you know.

Good regiment.

Came into a fair bit of money and retired early.

They came down here, and he went into this insurance business with the Hollabys.

The Porcupine Assurance Company.

TOMMY: Mm.

He was the last man in the world, apparently, whom anyone would have suspected of being an embezzler.

Like you said, it just doesn't fit.

Come on, Bess.

Come on.

HORSE NEIGH - Not hungry, darling?

- Mmm.

Well, tuck in.

Is it absolutely certain Cecil was the crook?

Who else could have embezzled the money?

- Why, the Hollabys.

- But they say they're ruined.

Oh, they say.

Perhaps they've hidden it all away in a bank, under some other name.

- Oh, Tuppence, really!

Well, somewhere, anyway.

Look, suppose they'd been speculating with the money all the time, and Cecil didn't know.

Suppose they lost it all.

- What?

- Well, it happens.

It would have been jolly convenient for them that Cecil died when he did.

So, you're accusing this respectable gentleman of murdering his close friend and business partner?

Why not?

TOMMY CHUCKLES Because, my darling wife, you seem to forget.

that Cecil parted from Hollaby in full view of Barnard and Lecky.

And then Hollaby spent the rest of the evening entertaining friends at home.

- Bother.

- Mm.

Bother, indeed.

Anyway, there's the hat pin.

Oh, nuts to the hat pin.

You seem to think the hat pin points quite inevitably to the crime being committed by a woman.

- Doesn't it?

- No.

You men are impossible.

You're notoriously old-fashioned.

Simply no imagination.

- Oh, I say...

It takes ages to rid you of silly, preconceived ideas.

- For example?

- For example... Hat pins and hairpins, being associated with the female sex, are always called women's weapons.

Well, it seems quite logical to me.

But so unimaginative.

Why, I haven't used a hat pin or a hairpin for the last four years.

No.

No, that's true.

Then you think...

It was a man that killed Cecil.

The hat pin was used to make it seem like a woman's crime.

Tommy, you're a golfer.

You know the Sunningdale course.

You've been there lots of times.

Well, not as a detective, searching for clues, but as an ordinary member playing a... playing a...

Round.

Tuppence, are you saying... You know what's liable to put a man off his game.

Darling, aren't you going to finish your breakfast?

Oh... no, I haven't got time.

TOMMY WHISTLING - Good morning.

- Morning, sir.

Er... would you put these in the car, please?

- Thank you, sir.

- Thank you.

Sorry I kept you.

Oh, don't worry.

It was worth it.

I suppose I ought to have a set of clubs.

No-one will notice.

Let's get the sequence right.

We're Barnard and Lecky, playing up towards the 16th green.

Hollaby and Cecil are up there.

We can clearly make out Cecil's bright-blue golf jacket.

Now, what exactly do we see?

'Suddenly, as Cecil approached the 17th tee... 'She was very tall and dressed in brown.'

Something's wrong.

Why didn't they see her before?

Who?

Barnard and Lecky?

She hadn't crossed over from the ladies' course.

They'd have noticed.

And it's strange they didn't see her on the footpath before.

Wait a minute.

Come on.

Tommy?

I thought so.

Very good.

SHE GASPS Oh, I don't understand.

WHISPERING: Don't you see?

This hut's out of sight of the course.

Anyone could wait here until the right moment came, and then appear, just as she did.

Yes.

Perfect.

What for?

For someone to change their appearance.

Tell me, would it be very difficult for a man to look like a woman, and then change back to being a man again?

It depends.

It would only need to look real from a distance.

I can see it, Tuppence.

I think I know how it was done.

A minute and a half, at the outside.

Come on.

Quickly.

That's what Hollaby saw.

Not a woman in brown, but a man, dressed as a woman.

That's why she was so tall.

She and Cecil went off.

They disappeared.

And that's when it happened.

The murder?

You could leave a body over there, and it would be pretty certain to lie hidden till morning.

But surely someone would have heard?

Heard what?

Death must have been instantaneous.

I've seen men like that die in the war.

They don't cry or call out.

Just a gurgle or a moan.

HE COUGHS And a funny little cough.

SHE GROANS SOFTLY Imagine it.

Cecil goes up to the 17th tee.

The woman appears.

Shan't be a minute!

CECIL: Look here.

Just what's all this about?

I'm not going to... CECIL GROANS TOMMY: 'The murderer then takes the blue jacket off the body 'and returns to the hut to get rid of the disguise.

'From this point on, 'Barnard and Lecky never see Cecil's face.

'Only the blue jacket they know so well.

'They never doubt that it's Cecil.

'But he doesn't play Cecil's brand of golf.'

They all say he played like a different man.

Well, of course he did.

He was a different man.

It wasn't Cecil who picked Doris Evans up at the cinema and invited her down here.

It wasn't Cecil who brought her onto the course and scared the life out of her.

It was a man calling himself Cecil.

Doris Evans wasn't arrested until a fortnight later.

She never saw the body.

If she had, she'd have immediately destroyed a carefully laid plot.

It was all a blind.

The strands of fair hair and the threads from her coat.

Remember?

She was lured down here deliberately, and cunningly framed.

Of course.

DORIS SCREAMS TUPPENCE: 'It must have been after Doris had run off.

'The murderer returned to the hut, 'took off the blue jacket, 'retrieved the disguise... '..and went to put the blue jacket 'back on Cecil's dead body.'

Wait a minute.

There's something wrong.

What's that?

- Hollaby.

- Hollaby?

Now, I'll admit that Barnard and Lecky couldn't see if it was Cecil or not, but you're not going to tell me that Hollaby, the man playing with him, couldn't see his face!

My dear old thing, that's the whole point.

Hollaby knew.

You'd guessed it yourself.

And if we're right, Hollaby and his son were the real embezzlers and they'd worked out the whole plot together.

'The woman in brown was Hollaby Junior 'who then returned to the course as Captain Cecil.'

Are you all right?

Yes, of course.

We'd best get on.

Damn.

TOMMY: 'So, when he left his father, 'he went straight to the cottage to lie in wait for Doris.'

So, Hollaby's son was the murderer?

Yes.

He's about the same age as Cecil, and the same height.

He knew the cottage would be empty.

He was in a perfect position to get an impression of the key.

He never appeared at the inquest, either.

Why should he?

Nobody thought to enquire where Hollaby's son was that fatal afternoon.

Or what he was up to.

So, Doris Evans actually met Hollaby Junior, pretending to be Cecil?

And if she'd seen his photograph in the newspaper, well, the quality's so poor, there's no chance of recognising him.

Exactly.

At last, it all fits!

TUPPENCE: First stop, Scotland Yard.

And make sure that Blunt's Brilliant Detectives get the credit they deserve.

Then home for a meal and a quiet evening alone.

Don't you agree?

- Yes... Oh, Tuppence.

Not another evening at a night club.

Or some boring old play.

- No.

- What, then?

I just wondered if we might stop off, on our way home, that is...

Yes?

..at that dear little place in South Molton Street I found.

You don't mind, do you?

Mind?

You deserve it!

BOTH LAUGH Oh, darling!

TUPPENCE LAUGHS Subtitles by accessibility@itv.com