INDISTINCT CHATTER You can pour us that cup of tea now, darlin'.

- This is the last bit.

- Right you are, dear.

Wouldn't mind having your job, mate, standing there doing nothing all day.

Now, easy now.

Mind the paintwork!

MAN: Oh, you and your bloody paintwork.

Leave it there, thank you.

MEN GRUNTING Uh, could we have a signature, please?

Certainly.

TANGO MUSIC PLAYING ON GRAMOPHONE POIROT SNEEZES Oh, mon Dieu!

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH Ah, Mr Poirot.

You've only done seven minutes.

You won't cure your cold if you don't obey the instructions.

I can't imagine a method so undignified can cure anything.

HE MUTTERS INAUDIBLY Now also I have the backache!

Has the post come, Miss Lemon?

Yes.

There was nothing for you.

Oh.

It's only been three weeks since your last case.

Three weeks is an eternity to a brain like mine.

Without the constant stimulation, my little grey cells will starve and die.

Already you can see I am suffering the effects.

HE SIGHS TANGO MUSIC PLAYING UPSTAIRS SHE SIGHS RAUCOUS GIGGLING WOMEN GIGGLING KNOCKS AT DOOR WOMEN SQUEALING - There's a letter for you.

- Read it.

"Dear Miss Matthews, "I am the new tenant of 36B, directly below you.

"I wonder if I might have a word with you "at your earliest convenience?

"Ernestine Grant, Mrs." Sounds a bit ominous.

What could she want?

Lord knows.

Never clapped my eyes on her.

Probably a complaint about the gramophone or something.

PAT CHUCKLES WOMEN GIGGLING MUSIC CONTINUES PLAYING UPSTAIRS CAR HORN HONKS How's the cold, old boy?

Now also you are trying to give me the heart attack?

I would not be surprised if riding in that car was not responsible for my present malady.

She's much too much of a lady to give anyone a cold.

She's running like a bird since I fitted those new gaskets.

Birds do not run, Hastings.

When you were little, you should've paid more attention to your lessons in biology.

You really are in a bad way, aren't you?

Well, my friend... POIROT EXHALES ..as one approaches the end, one begins to see life as it truly is.

HASTINGS CHUCKLES Don't worry.

I've got something that'll cheer you up.

Really?

Couple of tickets for The Deadly Shroud, you know, the new murder mystery at Wyndham's.

My dear Hastings, that is most kind, but how can a mere stage play be compared to the real life cases of Hercule Poirot?

Tell you what, I'll wager you ten quid, you can't solve The Deadly Shroud.

You on?

Well, the money, of course, is of no importance.

But I find your challenge irresistible.

I accept.

GATE CLANGING DOORBELL BUZZES Oh, it's you.

You'd better come in.

HE SIGHS POIROT SNEEZES VIOLENTLY LIGHT SWITCH FLICKERS OFF LAUGHTER SHE GASPS FOR AIR THUDS Mother, are you all right?

Oh, my God, help her, someone!

Lady Muriel!

She's dead!

APPLAUSE COUGHS, WHEEZES INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS It was the sherry, of course.

What was?

That killed Lady Muriel.

The sherry, it was poisoned.

- Oh?

Do you think so?

- Mm.

I think Mrs Sadler's looking pretty suspicious.

No, no, no.

GLASSES CLINKING - Whisky?

- No, thank you.

Now don't open this now, only at the end.

What is it?

The name of the murderer, of course.

WOMEN GIGGLING IN DISTANCE POIROT: It's Mademoiselle Matthews.

Over there, Hastings.

The girl in the red dress.

She lives in the flat below me in Whitehaven Mansions.

An enchanting mademoiselle...

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH HASTINGS: Yes.

The question of motive has had me worried, I can tell you.

Why should anyone want to kill Lady Muriel?

Who would gain by her death?

The answer, ladies and gentlemen, is nobody.

- Hmm.

DETECTIVE: Why?

Because Lady Muriel was never the intended victim.

No!

The person who should've drunk the poisoned sherry, the person for whom it was intended, was the missing son and heir who stood to inherit Lady Muriel's fortune.

Major Sadler.

Only one other person in this room knew of this well-kept secret and stood to gain from the Major's death... his wife.

Am I not correct, Mrs Sadler?

HE SIGHS Oh.

Oh, but that's absurd.

The writer is an imbecile!

HE CLEARS THROAT DETECTIVE: So clever that it almost had me fooled.

POIROT SIGHS Perhaps it is time I retire, Hastings.

I say, Poirot, you're beginning to make me feel badly about this.

- No, no, no, not at all.

Hercule Poirot is a man of his word... even if the playwright is not.

We were not given all the facts.

It was only at the end we discover /that Major Sadler is Lady Muriel's son.

That theatre has made my cold even worse!

LAUGHTER, INDISTINCT CHATTER DONOVAN: Of course I knew.

I got it at the end of Act One.

OVERLAPPING CONVERSATIONS I knew it was that Mrs Sadler right from the beginning!

Takes one to know one, I suppose.

It was that dress she wore in the first act.

I mean, it was so... SHE CLICKS TONGUE Bother!

I can't find my key.

Perhaps you forgot to bring it, darling.

Of course I didn't.

I'm not a complete nincompoop, Donovan.

I always bring my key.

Actually, I saw her put it in her bag before we left.

There, you see.

The point is, how are we going to get in?

The night porter will be off duty now.

Donovan, darling.

You wouldn't care to be a cat burglar, would you?

No, Pat, I think even amongst cat burglars a fourth floor flat might be regarded as rather a reckless proposition.

Is there a fire escape?

- No.

But there's a coal lift.

- That's a point.

It's loaded in the basement of the flats and goes up to a hatch in the kitchen.

We put the dustbins on it, as well, send them down.

Won't the hatch be bolted?

I never really bothered to bolt mine.

It's too stiff.

Well, it's worth a try, wouldn't you say?

Absolutely.

SHE CHUCKLES BOTH GIGGLING POIROT COUGHING Oh, really, my dear chap, it's not necessary.

It was only a bit of fun, you know.

No, no, no.

£10 we agreed.

£10 it shall be.

MECHANICAL SQUEAKING HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH It is late to put out a dustbin.

Hastings, be so kind as to extinguish the light.

DONOVAN: This'll be it.

JIMMY: Are you sure?

DONOVAN: Course I'm bloody sure.

HATCH DOOR CREAKING JIMMY: Put the light on.

DONOVAN: The damn thing won't work.

JIMMY: Try the sitting room.

DONOVAN: All right.

- Looks like burglars.

- No, I do not think so.

They are wearing the evening dress.

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH WOMEN SINGING IN DISTANCE ♪ You work, you play You worry so ♪ ♪ But you can't Take your dough ♪ ♪ When you go, go, go ♪ ♪ So keep repeating It's the berries ♪ ♪ For the strongest oak Must fall ♪ ♪ The sweet things in life To you are just loaned ♪ ♪ So how can you lose what you've never owned?

♪ ♪ Life is just a bowl Of cherries ♪ WOMEN CONTINUE SINGING INDISTINCTLY WOMEN LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY OBJECTS CLATTER What on earth's Pat been up to?

Everything's in the wrong bloody place!

WHISPERS: This isn't Pat's flat!

- Jeepers!

"Mrs Ernestine Grant."

Oh, Lord, we're in 36B, not 46B.

WHISPERS: I suggest we get out of here before she finds us.

DISTANT SNORING, THEY CHUCKLE Look.

Good God.

WOMEN SINGING: ♪ Life is just a bowl of cherries ♪ ♪ Don't be so serious ♪ ♪ Life's too mysterious ♪ ♪ You work You play, you worry so ♪ ♪ But you can't take your dough When you go, go, go ♪ JIMMY SIGHS - What are we going to do?

- I don't know.

WOMEN SINGING INDISTINCTLY JIMMY: Pat!

Mildred!

Something's happened.

PAT: What is it?

There's a dead woman down here.

PAT: Oh, God!

FOOTSTEPS RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS Jimmy.

DOOR CREAKING Uh, um, this is Jimmy Faulkener, Monsieur Poirot.

Ah, Bonsoir, Monsieur Faulkener.

Not "the" Monsieur Poirot?

Yes, he lives in the flat above me.

Gosh, I didn't know.

This is an honour, sir.

Eh, thank you.

You see, Hastings, I am still a force to be calculated.

So... the doors were unbolted.

HINGES SQUEAKING You walk across the kitchen.

You say the light did not switch on?

DONOVAN: No, the bulb had gone or something.

POIROT EXHALES HE EXCLAIMS SOFTLY How very odd.

Maybe there's a loose connection.

Or perhaps the bulb has been replaced.

DISTANT SNORING We heard that sound before, sir.

SNORING CONTINUES SNORING CONTINUES It is the domestic, the maid.

We will let her sleep for the moment.

POLICE CAR ALARM RINGING VEHICLE APPROACHING JAPP: You better watch your step, lads.

This is where the famous private detective Mr Hercule Poirot lives.

So, Donovan and I came in here, I mean, we still thought we were in Miss Matthews' flat.

And then we put the light on, and realised we weren't, and then we saw the body.

POIROT EXCLAIMS SOFTLY She has been dead for some time.

What?

Hours, do you mean?

- What is that on your hand?

- What?

Oh.

What's that?

My God, I think it's blood!

HASTINGS: Did you touch the body?

No!

So... ..the crime was committed at the table, and then the body was moved to the window.

HASTINGS: It is blood.

Hastings, be so kind as to go downstairs and ask Monsieur Dicker what time the last post was delivered this evening.

Right.

- Hastings.

- Japp.

Ah, my dear Chief Inspector Japp.

You'll be having murders in your back bedroom next, Poirot.

Right.

Who's the victim?

Mrs Ernestine Grant.

Apparently she only moved into the flat today.

And how was the body found?

Well, I'm afraid that's rather a long story, Chief Inspector.

It would be.

I shall want statements from everybody.

- Omelette for you, Mildred?

- Oh, I couldn't.

I suppose you're inured to this sort of thing, Monsieur Poirot.

No, no, no.

On the contrary, I think it is very nice.

You know, Mademoiselle Patricia, I once loved a very young, beautiful English girl who resembled you greatly but, alas, she could not cook... ..and the relationship withered.

No, I meant, well, you know, Poor Mrs Grant and everything.

Mademoiselle Patricia, a little bread perhaps?

PAT: Hmm.

It is essential to keep up the strength of my little grey cells.

ALL CHUCKLING You seem a little better, sir.

Thank you.

I am feeling better.

It doesn't seem real at all.

It's like being in a play or something.

A better play, I trust, than the farrago we saw this evening.

Oh, didn't you like it?

We all thought it was terrific.

Ah, I beg to differ.

On the contrary.

We were not given all the facts!

The facts as presented pointed to Chivers, the butler.

Do you think so, sir?

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH Because of his position.

He was the only person who had the motive and the opportunity to poison the sherry.

And then the writer has this character of a simple, plodding policeman speaking a windbag of the summing up, and resting his whole case on the infantile subplot... Er... the door was open.

Come in, Inspector.

Well, it looks like a pretty cut and dry matter.

Not worth your while, I'm afraid, Poirot.

The dead woman is Mrs Grant, all right.

Her maid identified her.

She was shot at the table with a small calibre automatic pistol.

She fell forward, which accounts for the blood on the cloth.

JIMMY: So somebody actually shot her in cold blood?

That's the way it looks, sir, yes.

- How dreadful.

- And the time of death?

The doctor estimates between five and six hours ago.

None of you noticed anyone unusual in the flats round that time?

Mildred arrived just after lunch and we didn't go out until Jimmy and Donovan came to collect us for the theatre at about seven, wasn't it?

- Hmm.

- And you got back at what time?

JIMMY: Ooh, ten thirty or so.

What does the maid say?

- Ah, Miss Trotter.

- Excuse me.

It seems she had the evening off.

She went out at five and got back about ten o'clock, letting herself in with her own key.

She noticed nothing unusual?

She thought her mistress was in bed.

Never thought to look behind the packing cases.

It's very curious.

Curious?

To try and hide the body.

Didn't want the crime discovered until he made his getaway.

Perhaps.

Well... Hmm.

Perhaps.

Pardon.

Please continue, Chief Inspector.

Well, we found this on the floor, dropped in his haste, I expect.

Take a look at the corner, Poirot.

"JF."

That's right.

JF.

Now take a look at this.

This was found in the pocket of the dead woman's dress.

"If it suits you, I will come this evening.

"Shall we say six o'clock?

"Frazer."

An incriminating document for this Frazer.

I think we may take it that JF and Frazer are one and the same.

A John Frazer, perhaps.

We'll get a line on him in due course.

KNOCK AT DOOR Chief Inspector, sir.

Miss Trotter here was wondering if she can go home now, sir?

I'm going to stay at my sister's if that's all right.

I couldn't sleep here, not tonight, sir.

Yes, that'll be all right.

Oh.

Thank you, sir.

- Excuse me, Mademoiselle.

- Yes, sir?

Permit me, if I may, to ask you the question.

Yes, sir.

When you returned to the flat belonging to Mrs Grant this evening, did you enter the sitting room?

- Oh, yes, sir.

I collected the evening post on my way up and I left the letters for Mrs Grant on the sitting room table.

And you noticed nothing strange in that room?

No, sir, nothing.

Thank you very much, Mademoiselle.

Thank you, sir.

Good night.

Ah, Poirot.

Apparently, the last post arrived at nine o'clock this evening.

- Thank you, Hastings.

And according to Dicker, nobody out of the ordinary came in and out of the building all night.

Inspector.

- A little favour, if I may.

- Here we go.

I would like to examine the flat belonging to Mrs Grant.

There's nothing there, Poirot.

Well...

I've put out a call for this John Frazer.

If we find him, that's the end of it.

As you say.

Well, then.

Oh, examine it as much as you like.

You all right?

I'm all right.

You're shivering, you must be cold.

It's just this terrible thing with Mrs Grant.

I know.

We were having such a lovely evening.

And we'll have lots more lovely evenings.

ENGINE TURNS OVER WOMAN: Do you see that?

MAN: Hmm?

WOMAN: They're taking her away.

MAN: Shocking business.

WOMAN: And she only moved in this morning.

Let us, my friends, consider the facts.

First, the letter.

It was found at the scene of the crime with the name "John Frazer" written on the bottom.

Then, the handkerchief with the monogram JF marked on one corner.

So it would appear, would it not, my friends, that this man John Frazer was careless, n'est-ce pas?

Poirot, why are you rummaging around in the dustbin?

Ah-ha!

I thought so.

Voila!

POIROT SNIFFS Mm-mm, pardon.

I have a cold.

Would you be so kind, Monsieur Donovan?

Thank you.

DONOVAN SNIFFS LID POPS No, no, no!

HE SPEAKS IN FRENCH Why did you take off the lid?

That is stupid!

Ah.

HE SIGHS Jimmy, fetch some brandy if you, please?

In the sitting room, I think.

Hastings, a damp cloth.

HE GROANS What happened?

POIROT: Here, drink this, my friend.

You are fortunate, Monsieur Bailey, it could've been worse.

Even poison perhaps.

POIROT SIGHING You must be more careful.

DONOVAN GROANS - It had a kick like a mule.

- Feeling any better?

I think so, thanks.

Oh!

- Mon Dieu!

Hastings, take him upstairs to the flat, huh.

Perhaps prepare for him some coffee.

I'm sure I'll be fine now, thanks.

No, no, no, no, I insist.

You are still weak, yes?

I suppose I do feel a bit wonky still.

Better come along, old chap.

Take it easy for a bit.

Hastings, make sure Monsieur Bailey is very comfortable because Hastings...

..I am anxious for his health.

Right.

WATER SPLASHES So, what now, sir?

Now, Jimmy?

Nothing.

- The case is finished.

- Finished?

Oh, yes, my friend.

I now know everything.

JIMMY: I don't understand, sir.

Have they arrested this Frazer chap already?

There is no Frazer chap.

He is the name only.

The name carefully marked on a handkerchief.

The name written on the bottom of a letter which was placed in the pocket of the dead woman where we would find it.

Good Lord!

But who changed the light bulb in the kitchen then?

No-one.

The light, it works to perfection.

It was a ruse to get you into this sitting room.

Come, I show you.

You see, Jimmy, with the light on, it is obvious at once that this is not the kitchen of Mademoiselle Patricia.

You would have had no reason to go into the sitting room, would you?

- No.

No.

Jimmy, what is this?

The key to this flat?

POIROT CHUCKLES No, it is the key to the flat upstairs.

The key to Mademoiselle Patricia's flat.

Monsieur Bailey stole this key, Jimmy, from her bag and I presume sometime during the evening.

- Donovan stole it?

- Yes.

What on earth for?

To prevent you all from going into her flat when you came back from the theatre.

- But why would he want... - Mon Dieu!

To drive you into this flat instead.

To drive you, my friend, into... the service lift.

But where did you find the key?

Where I expected to find it.

In the pocket of Monsieur Bailey.

You see, Jimmy, I only pretended to find this bottle in the rubbish bin.

I had it in my pocket all the time.

But I hand it to Monsieur Bailey, he sniffs it, and... pfft!

In this bottle is ethyl chloride, a most powerful, instant anaesthetic.

So... for a few moments, Monsieur Bailey is unconscious.

But it is time enough, while you are in this room to fetch the brandy, for me to take the two items from Monsieur's Bailey pocket that I knew I would find there.

JIMMY INTERJECTS Nah, nah, nah, patience, my friend, and you will learn everything.

I asked myself... Why hide the body behind the packing cases?

To gain time?

Yes.

But for a very special reason.

You see, Jimmy, earlier this evening, the murderer entered this flat in order to take something, huh.

But that something was nowhere to be found, so it was necessary for him to return, but only after the last post was delivered.

So he had to hide the body behind the curtain.

Then Mademoiselle Trotter, the domestic enters, sees nothing unusual, places the last post on the table and retires to bed.

And what's that letter then, sir?

Oh, this letter, Jimmy?

This was the second item I took from Monsieur Bailey's pocket.

It was this letter that he was so desperate to find.

Are you saying, then, that Donovan murdered Mrs Grant?

Exactement.

But why?

He didn't even know Mrs Grant.

Why should he want to kill her?

Jimmy, before I tell you... ..allow me to ask you a question.

It is a most personal one.

Are you in love with Mademoiselle Patricia?

Oh, come on, come on, come on, don't be shy.

If I were your age, Monsieur, without doubt I, too, would be in love with her.

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I care for Pat damnably, but, of course, she's engaged to Donovan.

Nah, she will need you once this trouble is known.

How do you mean?

Once this case becomes public, Jimmy, it will be very difficult to keep her name out of it entirely.

You see, Mademoiselle Patricia was the motive for the murder.

LIFT CLUNKING HASTINGS: Poirot!

Vite!

Poirot, he's made a dash for it!

Constable, stop that man in the lift.

Hurry.

And you, Jimmy.

FOOTSTEPS STOMPING DOWN THE STAIRS DOOR CREAKS Well, there's not a sign of him out there, sir.

That's dashed odd.

He can't have got far.

Ah-ha!

Your friend is not a fool, Monsieur Faulkener.

He presses the button inside the lift, but doesn't descend himself.

Voila!

MECHANICAL SQUEAKING Quick, the basement!

LOUD THUD FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING Nothing here.

Must've been something else we heard, Monsieur Poirot.

I think we'd better go back upstairs eh?

Nothing round the back, sir?

HASTINGS: Not a thing.

Just disappeared.

Disappeared altogether.

POIROT: Grown men do not vanish into thin air.

HASTINGS: Well, he did.

ENGINE TURNS OVER, REVS TYRES SCREECHING No!

JIMMY: Oh, my God, Donovan!

POIROT: Monsieur Bailey!

Monsieur Bailey!

I'd better call an ambulance, sir, I think.

POIROT: Is he badly hurt?

Oh, my God!

LIFT WHIRRING That front axle's just sheared right through.

Mon pauvre Hastings.

But you must not brood.

You must occupy yourself!

Huh?

Go and telephone the Chief Inspector Japp and tell him we have caught his fish.

What's happened to Donovan?

It'll need a whole new front end.

LIFT WHIRRING Monsieur Bailey, please give me the letter you have just taken from the table.

Thank you, Monsieur.

PAPER RUSTLING Jimmy, be so kind as to read us this letter written to Mrs Grant.

Well, it looks as if it comes from a solicitor's.

"Dear Madam, we return the document "you forwarded to us.

"It is quite in order "and the fact of the marriage having taken place abroad "does not invalidate it in any way, "yours truly etcetera, etcetera."

Hmm.

So, Jimmy, you ask, "Why Mrs Grant?"

Huh?

Eh bien, voila!

The marriage certificate between Donovan Grant and Ernestine Trubshaw, dated 1930. Who's Donovan Grant?

He now calls himself Donovan Bailey.

I wanted a divorce.

I begged Ernestine but she refused.

Said she'd never let me free.

After I fell in love with Pat, Ernestine started hounding me.

Telephoned me every day, held it over me, threatening to tell Pat everything.

Drove me mad.

Then she suddenly announced she'd taken a flat here right underneath Pat's.

I couldn't believe it.

By then I knew she was crazy enough to do anything.

So, what happened yesterday, Monsieur?

Ernestine called me in the afternoon.

'She said she'd written to Pat to arrange to see her, 'to tell her the truth about us.

'I naturally assumed the worst.

'I knew I had to do something once and for all.'

DOORBELL BUZZES DOOR UNLOCKS 'I called round to her flat at about six.'

Oh, it's you.

You'd better come in.

Drink?

You've absolutely no right to go hounding Pat.

But I'm not hounding her, my darling.

I'm simply telling her what a rotten bounder you are, promising to marry her when you're already married to me.

We got married in Switzerland, Ernestine, IF you remember.

It doesn't count under British law.

So you keep telling me.

But I thought I'd test your little theory.

So I sent my solicitor a copy of our marriage certificate.

He's telephoned me to say it's completely valid.

And he's written back to me to confirm it.

Show me.

I haven't received his letter yet.

It'll arrive in the evening post, I expect.

It's going to be quite a shock for poor Miss Matthews.

I'm warning you, Ernestine, if you approach Pat, so help me God, I'll kill you.

I swear it.

SHE LAUGHS Donovan!

Don't make me laugh.

Now run along and try and impress somebody else, will you?

SHE CHUCKLES Poor Miss Matthews.

You really have let her down, Donovan.

SHE GIGGLES GUNSHOTS BODY THUDS DONOVAN: 'I warned her, you see.

'But she wouldn't listen.'

Afterwards, I went back home and changed for the theatre.

I couldn't let her hurt Pat like that, could I?

Ah, my dear Chief Inspector.

Came as fast as I could, Poirot.

No, no, my friend, you came just in time.

The case is closed.

ENGINE TURNS OVER Jimmy, go to Mademoiselle Patricia.

She doesn't want me.

She wants him.

Non, non, non, mon ami, she needs you.

Go on.

Go to her.

Hanging's too good for some people.

Basically, what you've got here, Hastings, is some very expensive scrap metal.

Hastings, my friend... Poirot is as magnanimous in defeat as he is modest in victory.

- Oh, yes?

In view of the fact that you are going to need every penny you can get to restore this beautiful machine to health, I have decided to pay up... ..and be content.

I say.

Thanks, old boy.

Think nothing of it, old boy.

- Good morning, Miss Lemon.

- Good morning, Mr Poirot.

And what a beautiful morning it is.

Lovely.

I hear you've been having all sorts of excitement here.

No, it was nothing, a case like any other.

I've got your friar's balsam for you.

My what?

Your inhalant for your cold.

Poirot does not have colds, Miss Lemon.

It is well known that Poirot scorns all but the gravest afflictions.

But yesterday, you were... Miss Lemon, yesterday was yesterday.

My tisane, if you please.

Subtitles by accessibility@itv.com