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.

[ Indistinct conversations, birds chirping ] [ Applause ] [ Indistinct shouting, applause ] [ Motorcycle approaching ] [ Engine shuts off ] All right, Eric.

Back to the workshop.

Make a start on these legs.

Gentle sanding, now.

Well, there's time for a quick cuppa.

Sorry.

In the strictest confidence, Sam said.

Besides, you hate the sight of cricket.

Well, so do you.

But I like a nice cream tea now and then.

Life is not all cream teas, Eric.

You'll find that out.

Watch that upholstery.

[ Indistinct conversations ] [ Rock music playing on radio ] [ Breathing heavily ] [ Bell tolling ] [ Applause ] [ Breathing heavily ] [ Inhales sharply ] [ Breathing heavily ] [ Moaning ] [ Spectators murmuring ] It's Sam Wendell, isn't it?

Yes.

He's supposed to be meeting me.

Gone to meet his maker now.

Before he ruined my 50.

-"Ruined my 50."

-[ Siren wailing ] That's people in the antique game for you.

Warm, decent, sentimental, and soft-hide as a cricket ball.

Whatever Sam had wanted to tell me, I thought I'd never know, But I was wrong.

Even in death, he'd managed to drag me into a rather nasty hassle.

Put it another way -- the usual tale of lust, greed, cunning, and treachery in our distinguished trade.

TINKER: Ah!

Lovejoy.

Your shout.

How much has he had?

-Not a lot.

-For him.

You're supposed to get drunk after a funeral.

I've had sufficient to keep me warm at the graveside.

I'm much more worried by that frightfully mismatched outfit.

So am I.

Is that the best you could do?

Yes.

Well, at least the colors are correct.

And I won't be frightening the flowers with my scent.

Let's change the subject, Lovejoy.

A large scotch.

Morning, Lovejoy.

You're fit?

I'm never better, Charlie.

It's nice of you to inquire.

My horoscope must foretell disaster.

Someone's got a bone to pick with you.

Who?

Arnold Nelson.

You remember Arnold.

Distant cousin on my late wife's side.

Thick as two short planks, but very nasty when peeved.

[ Register chimes ] Why should he be peeved with me?

Question mark over those plates you sold him.

I told him you'd be in here about now.

Oh, thanks, Charlie.

Very kind of you.

I wouldn't linger if I was you, man.

No.

Not a nice man, Arnold.

CHARLIE: Au revoir, Lovejoy.

Or is it, uh, goodbye?

ARNOLD: Lovejoy?

Arnold.

Hear you're peeved.

Those plates you sold me.

Vintage Spode, you said.

Yes.

Beautiful craftsmanship.

Local millionaire.

Yes.

F.W.

Woolworth.

I had them valued.

They're shammers, Lovejoy.

Some bright spark did a sandblasting job on them.

Yes.

Well, if you'd been a bit of a brighter spark, Arnold, you'd have brought this up when the deal went down.

I never swore they were vintage Spode.

If you recall, I said, "Hello.

These could be Spode."

And you bunged me the cash and went tooling down the A45, pleased as punch.

Tell me -- Precisely where did this transaction occur?

LOVEJOY: King's Lynn, Tuesday last.

What ruddy difference does it make where?

None.

None at all.

I just wanted to paint the entire picture, as it were.

I'll paint your nose all over your face, mate -- as it were.

Knock it off, Arnold.

-We don't want to get beer... -Scotch.

...scotch all down my brief's shirt front, do we?

The deal was done, fair and square.

It's not my fault if you can't tell the difference between a Meissen and a manhole cover.

Ooh.

Could be a lot of blood.

ARNOLD: Money back or I'll sort you out.

Sorry, Arnold.

Money's spent.

Really?

[ Grunts ] [ Glass clattering ] -[ Groans ] -Come on.

Come on.

[ Glass breaking ] Who says they're never there when you need them?

Morning, Officer.

A little misunderstanding, Commander.

This android struck my chum.

Oh, yes?

That true?

Sadly, yes, Sergeant.

I was reluctant-- Wasn't talking to you.

I wouldn't waste my time talking to any of them!

I'll be the judge of that.

HELEN: Perhaps I can help, Sergeant.

Lovejoy was just trying to help Mr. Gimbert.

This oaf accused Mr. Gimbert of defrauding him.

He then attacked Mr. Gimbert quite viciously, and brave Lovejoy, seeing that poor Charles was in dire need of assistance -- Wait a minute, you.

DRABBLE: Outside, you two.

Look, I wasn't involved!

I said outside.

[ Indistinct conversations ] Thank you, Officer.

[ Birds chirping ] VICAR: Man born that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live and is full of misery.

He cometh up and is cut down like a flower.

He fleeth as it were a shadow and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life, we are in death.

Of whom may we seek for succor but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins are justly displeased.

Yet, O Lord God, most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most... Was he really such a great forger?

Copyist.

They're only a forger when they're caught.

He made some delightful things.

Stuff that made you weep.

But he died without a penny.

That's what makes me weep.

A little decorum, please.

I wish he would hurry up and we could get to the drinks.

[ Indistinct conversations, bell tolling ] Would you like a little something?

Yes.

A little whiskey to lift the spirits.

Thank you.

This isn't a party, you know.

Now, in my opinion, you've had quite sufficient.

JANE: That's all right, Mrs. Cameron.

I'm sure Sam would hate to think you were being stingy.

Aye.

Another one who liked his drink.

MAGGIE: Sam always loved that old church, you know.

It's good to think of him there.

Among some of the work he enjoyed doing so much.

We had a lot of respect for Sam.

He was one of a special breed.

Genuine craftsman.

MAGGIE: He could have worked at Hatton Garden, you know.

Certainly could.

Sam always valued your advice.

Said you could tell a genuine antique just by the feeling, by intuition.

Oh.

Silver snuffbox.

[ Light music plays ] That's charming.

[ Lid closes, music stops ] I just wondered if it was... well, you know, special.

Samuel Pemberton, Birmingham, late 18th century.

It's a beautiful fake.

It's one of Sam's finest pieces.

It was Sam's special present.

It's enough for me.

Listen, Maggie.

How are you fixed?

Don't you worry yourself, lovey.

I'll manage.

I always have.

Yes, but things get tougher.

There's some insurance.

We own the cottage, and I've got the still got the barrow down Friary Street.

Yeah?

Anything else of Sam's you'd like me to take a look at?

No, thanks.

I've sent some stuff to the sale room.

I'll get my share of whatever it's worth.

Afternoon, Lovejoy.

Good of you to pay your respects.

LOVEJOY: Only too pleased.

If you want me to, I'll run you home now, Mrs. Wendell.

Thank you, your lordship.

Goodbye, Lovejoy.

Sorry about the box.

[ Vehicle approaching ] Good morning, Woody.

I'd like four burnt bangers, three bacon cinders, and two raw eggs.

In the other words, the usual.

-You want toast?

-Oh, please.

Two slices, whole-wheat.

Don't be stupid.

Oh.

Cup of typhoid.

Coming up.

Yeah.

LOVEJOY: Hello, Pilsen.

You still got that scroll?

May the Lord send a blessing upon thy morning.

Thanks, Pilsen.

I needed that.

May heaven bring grace on Lovejoy and our holy meeting.

Yes.

Well, about that Ethiopian amulet scroll.

What's the price?

Cantonese ceremonial dragon kite or no sale.

Where the hell am I going to get a Cantonese dragon kite?

How about a small jug?

Get knotted.

[ Machine beeping ] LOVEJOY: Well, it's a bit risky in here, but you do look ravishing, Dandy.

Thank you.

Yesterday was so depressing.

I just had to sport something chic today.

A cup of tea with lemon, Woody.

Uh, Sam's widow told you she was left with nothing?

Just about.

That's not the story I heard last night.

There are rumors that Sam had amassed quite a small fortune.

If even half the rumors in this game were true, we'd all be rich.

Yes, I know.

But this rumor has persisted for quite some time.

In his cups, Sam boasted that one day soon, he and his wife would have plenty of money -- enough money to retire to the south of France, no less.

A dreamer.

Like us all.

Mine's a pied-à-terre in Birmingham.

[ Vehicle doors close ] [ Footsteps approaching ] JANE: [ Sighs ] This is the slum that lost us the Best-Kept Village in East Anglia competition.

I like the natural look.

-Funky rustic, I call it.

-[ Door opens ] ERIC: Well, if it isn't the president of this vast international conglomerate.

Between you and me, your ladyship, the only genuine antique 'round here is that car.

LOVEJOY: Cheeky sod.

She's practically pawing the ground, ready to be off.

When you change the tires.

Eh?

Oh, great.

[ Bell tolling ] [ Door closes, bell clangs ] Can I help you?

Oh.

I do hope so.

I'm looking for an English Bible box.

Oak, with a desk-type lid.

No.

I'm afraid I haven't got one.

But I could try and find you one in a couple of days.

That would be most satisfactory.

I'll just browse if you don't mind.

Yes.

Of course.

[ Clock ticking ] HELEN: I've just been checking up.

I'm fairly sure we can get you a Bible box from somewhere -- if we have to beg, borrow, or steal.

Oops.

[ Door closes, bell clangs ] Thank you, Janey.

No, thank you.

Did you read Kelly on restoring oil paintings?

Well, no.

I thought I'd wait for the film.

[ Both laugh ] Only oils you care about drip from that bloody bike of yours.

Nobody cares about excellence anymore.

It's all plastic and animated crud.

All the old arts and crafts are dying out.

Oh.

Such as Sam's.

Yeah.

There was a gifted character for you.

Dead ordinary until you saw him at work.

Then his eyes twinkled, and his hands became graceful as a dancer's.

Completely in command.

ERIC: How come he was permanently skint, then?

Eric, you have as much feeling for antiques as Lucrezia Borgia had for catering.

Oh, you did pick up that stump-work embroidery box and sell it for me, didn't you?

Are you taking up embroidery, Lovejoy?

Good.

About time you had a hobby.

[ Doorbell rings ] MAGGIE: Is Lovejoy at home?

ERIC: Uh, Lovejoy?

Hello, Maggie.

The snuffbox was on my living room table.

I'm certain of that.

And now it's gone.

I know you said it was a fake, but it meant a lot to me.

Sam gave it to me about five years ago.

He said, "Maggie, I haven't got much, love, but this little box is worth a fortune."

[ Voice breaking ] That's all he said.

How could it be a fake and worth a fortune?

He said he would explain one day, then... Did Sam ever tell you about any of his deals?

Shady deals, you mean?

No.

Y-You know, Sam and me, we married late.

He never talked about his work, and I never asked.

I'm not as innocent as he thought.

I knew he was a forger.

Oh.

Copyist, love.

Same thing.

Never knock a copyist.

Even the great Turner himself started out as one.

His copies are now worth more than the originals.

Was there anyone suspicious hanging around?

Perhaps someone you didn't recognize at the funeral?

No.

Have you had any visitors?

No.

Well, there was the priest.

Priest?

Old friend of Sam's.

Said he wanted to pay his respects, offer me solace.

Charlie.

Word in your ear?

You've got a flaming nerve showing your face 'round here after the bloody stroke you pulled the other day.

Now, fair is fair.

You were only there to see me get spread across the walls.

Sorry about the tie.

I'll pay for the dry cleaning.

Arnold's not through with you yet.

Not by a long chalk.

So it's some consolation to me that there is still a wall waiting for you to be spread across.

Then you'd better pay for my dry cleaning.

Can I ask you something?

It depends.

Sam Wendell's widow.

She sent some stuff in for auction.

That's right.

Went through a couple of days ago.

Nothing very spectacular, considering Sam's reputation.

Did anybody pay particular attention to the gear?

Any one person buy a lot of the stuff?

Mr. Gimbert.

LOVEJOY: Oh, hello, Fred.

Morning, Lovejoy.

That Wendell lot -- Did most of it go to one bidder?

I don't think so.

Here and there, I seem to recall.

I'll look it up in the book.

Oh.

You can check with the miffs, but I think there was a bloke showing a lot of interest before the auction started.

Yeah.

He was a priest.

Helen.

My favorite alibi.

Can I buy you a drink?

Don't.

I'm not in the mood.

I'm having a terrible day.

I've got a splitting headache.

I've got to collect all this junk.

Oh, and just to make my life perfect, I've been ripped off by a wretched little man in a dog collar.

Dog collar?

Yes.

He's a priest.

Not again.

[ Sighs ] [ Humming ] Well, another exciting day comes to an end.

When I leave your employ, Lovejoy, I'm gonna know nothing at all about antiques, but I'll make a ruddy good filing clerk.

Your services are indispensable, Eric.

Oh, you know that spare tire I put on for you?

A superb job.

Flat.

Oh, no.

That means I've got to fork out for a new one.

And I'll have to resume my duty as a chauffeur.

Don't complain, Eric.

I'm making you a superb supper.

Are you?

Yeah.

How you like your fried bread?

What is it?

An eclipse.

Hmm?

[ Banging on door ] [ Whispering ] You don't know who I am or where I am.

Well, where are you, then?

-Not here.

-[ Banging continues ] Who are you?

Eric.

And you?

Never mind who I am.

Where's Lovejoy?

Oh, he's not here.

He's gone away.

His car's here.

Well, he had a puncture, see, and he, uh, had to take the bus.

The bus?

To where?

Uh, up north.

He's, uh, gone to a sale.

In a stately home.

An auction in a stately home.

In Scotland.

When will he be back?

Well, it's hard to say.

A-A day or two.

They've got the snowplows out.

ARNOLD: Snowplows?

It's summer.

Not in Scotland.

Well, you tell him I'm looking for him.

All right.

Shall I say who called?

He'll know.

[ Whispers ] Very good, Eric.

Very well handled.

I'm getting used to it with you.

[ Sniffs, sighs ] [ Telephone ringing ] Bury St. Edmunds Old People's Twilight Home.

MAN: Is that not Lovejoy Antiques?

Who's this?

My name is Fred Bigelow.

Oh, sorry, Fred.

I thought you were someone else.

You lead a very exciting life, Mr. Lovejoy.

Too exciting at times.

What can I do for you?

Well, I was over at Dedham this afternoon on an errand for Mr. Gimbert, and I saw him.

Saw who?

The priest.

The one you were asking about.

He's staying at the Rosery -- as in flowers, not beads.

Oh, thanks, Fred.

I owe you one.

[ Motorcycle approaching ] [ Mid-tempo music playing ] [ Door opens ] WOMAN: Good morning.

Good morning, young lady.

I believe you have a colleague of mine staying here -- a fellow brother of the cloth.

Oh, yes.

Father Peal.

I'm afraid he's not in at the moment.

I think he said he'd be back for lunch.

Then perhaps I'll wait.

The lounge is just through there.

May I have some coffee?

Certainly.

Oh, and a large brandy, please.

-That's funny.

-What?

Well, Father Peal's Catholic and you're Anglican.

Yes?

And we're both members of the ecumenical council.

I'll get your coffee.

[ Horn blares, tires screech ] [ Horn honking ] Well, well, well.

If Father Peal doesn't turn out to be Smiley O'Reilly.

When did they spring you, your Holiness?

Last heard of, you were meditating in a cell Chelmsford.

I might have known you'd stick your beak in sometime, Lovejoy.

Robbing widows.

A new low, even for you, Smiley.

What's the fascination about the box?

What box?

This box.

What's so special about it?

That special?

Give.

No, you're not gonna use that, sunshine.

Not a third-rate tea leaf like you.

Hand over that box, Lovejoy, or you'll soon find out.

Didn't realize it meant that much to you.

O'REILLY: [ Grunts ] [ Gunshot ] See you at Bible class.

[ Engine turns over ] Burn rubber, Catchpole.

[ Door opens ] [ Engine turns over ] [ Clattering ] ERIC: Who the hell is this dodgy priest?

Smiley O'Reilly.

Cheerful little soul.

Been a guest of Her Majesty for the last three years.

Thanks.

He's the kind of fellow who would take money from a collection box.

Called a foreigner -- when the forger makes an extra one for himself.

Why was he so keen to get his hands on it?

Don't know.

Must be drastic if a toerag like Smiley is using a shooter.

Take that dog collar off, Lovejoy.

The saintly look doesn't suit you.

Really?

[ Light music playing ] [ Music continues ] JANE: It's Bach.

-LOVEJOY: Bach?

-Mm.

Why on earth would Sam choose Bach?

Bach, Bach, black sheep was more in his line.

[ Laughs ] Well, maybe he wanted something to match the beauty of his craftsmanship.

What's the name of it?

Oh, I know it.

Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue.

Oh, it's lovely, isn't it?

Um... "Sleepers Awake."

[ Snaps fingers ] "Sleepers Awake"?

Yes.

It's the chorale from "Sleepers Awake."

Sleepers.

The crafty old sod.

Sleepers are antiques that have disappeared -- just drifted away like a gob of spit in a storm.

[ Tray rattles ] One minute, there they are, all neatly cataloged, next minute just a vague memory.

Thousands of antiques must become mislaid.

Oh, mislaid, buried, stolen, melted down, vandalized, deposited in vaults, worn away, lent, forgotten.

The difference is that sleepers are deliberately hidden, usually because they're hot.

Oh.

Finally discovered when their value has rocketed.

Could this be the fortune Sam told his wife about?

Cunning old fart.

Question is, what are they and where are they?

Hot water, madam?

Thank you, Mrs. Cameron.

You do that deliberately.

[ Rock music playing on radio ] Any chance of a discount on one green apple?

Hello there.

You help yourself, my love.

How's it going, Maggie?

It's not easy.

Can't pretend it is.

I'll manage.

Perhaps this will cheer you up a bit.

You got it back.

You're an angel.

I'm on their side.

Can I hang on to it for a few days?

Whatever you think fit, Lovejoy.

Listen, I want you to try to remember something.

When Sam gave you this box, what was he working on?

I do remember.

He was working at that big house near Bursford.

He left after the fire.

The house had a fire.

It was a week or two after that he gave me this.

Here.

Are you on to something?

Hope so.

I hope there's something in it for your retirement.

Oh, that would be lovely.

I realize today I'm getting a bit old to be on the fruit.

Not the same without Sam at home.

Oh, I know the place.

Owned by a woman called Mattock.

Oh, yes.

Oh, a frightful woman.

We were once on the same fundraising committee.

Oh, very overbearing and wore far too much mascara.

That doesn't make her a bad fundraiser.

I believe she had an affair with the treasurer.

It destroyed his marriage, and he was a terribly nice man from Saxmundham, with a wife and three small children.

She's got quite a reputation as a man-eater.

Mm.

Sounds right up your street, Lovejoy.

Duty calls.

Lovejoy?

It's an interesting name.

Sotheby's?

That's the, uh, wrong card.

[ Bell chimes ] Well...I'm all yours.

What can I do for you?

I believe you had a fire here some years ago.

Yes.

Alas, it destroyed the drawing room, along with some family treasures.

Poor Caroline was trapped in the next room at the time.

Your daughter?

My dog.

A borzoi.

The firemen only just got her out in time.

She was a nervous wreck for weeks.

[ Door opens ] Ah.

George.

George, two large scotches, please.

There's a good chap.

Do you remember what was destroyed?

Some Guherat silver brooches, a de Wint watercolor, Schultz clock, snuffboxes, other silverware, William III pewter plate, Derby porcelain.

Oh, and a small Constable.

Nothing very exciting.

Thank you, George.

Thank you, George.

The police made their inquiries.

No one knows how the fire started.

The insurance coughed up, and as far as I'm concerned, the whole affair is over and done with.

Won't you join me?

Oh.

Where do you fit into this, Lovejoy?

Your card said antiques, not arson.

What if I were to tell you your things weren't burned?

That's impossible.

The room was completely destroyed.

They even found the damaged remains of them.

It made me quite ill. You're sure they were the originals?

Of course.

I'm not interested in the second rate.

Oh, I should say not.

Not Derby porcelain.

Schultz clock, William III pewter plate that could buy me a new cottage, a Constable.

Irreplaceable.

Yes.

Irreplaceable indeed.

These things really turn you on, don't they?

They're exquisite, beautiful, crammed with soul, love.

They resist devaluation, inflation, war, plague, famine.

I mean... Look.

Take that Sheraton.

It would be like resting your bum on a kneeling bishop.

How excitingly put.

Are you this passionate about everything you embrace, Lovejoy?

Well, I try to be.

MRS. MATTOCK: George, could we have some tea now, please?

Chirpy boy, George.

Very possessive, I'm afraid.

Oh.

I'm sure he thinks you're going to take advantage of me.

Oh, why would George think a thing like that?

[ Laughs ] I can't imagine.

[ Engine revs ] [ Engine turns over ] [ Siren wailing ] WOMAN: Oh, it's you again.

What do you want this time?

Hello, darling.

You're no vicar.

I could tell by the way you were eyeing me up.

All that commotion you caused.

A right shifty pair, you and Father Peal.

I take it he's moved out of the hotel.

Disappeared without paying the bill.

That's disgraceful.

I'll just have to have a word with his cardinal.

[ Organ playing ] "Sleepers Awake."

[ Music stops ] JANE: It was there under my nose all the time.

Slow down a minute, Jane.

What was?

Samuel Pemberton, in our church.

In your church?

Exactly.

There's a small plaque with his name and dates of birth and death.

I'd never noticed it before because there's always flowers in front of it.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, I spotted a stone set into the floor.

It's obviously been recently restored.

By Sam Wendell?

I can't be sure of that, but it's got just two words on it.

Yes?

"Sleepers Awake."

I must go now.

Hope it's been of some help.

Bye.

[ Click, dial tone ] [ Indistinct conversations, laughter ] [ Owl hooting ] [ Latch clicks ] [ Whispering ] Where's Tinker?

[ Wings flapping ] What's that?

Hmm?

Her ladyship's having banquet, by the look of it.

Very swish.

ALEXANDER: I'm going to Houston later this month.

I'm trying to persuade Jane to come with me.

Not very keen, though, are you, darling?

Because it's such a frightful place.

You could take me to New York if you like.

I'd adore that.

[ Inhales sharply ] Hmm?

TINKER: That fifth scotch made me playful.

[ Door opens, hinges squeak ] ERIC: There's a strange atmosphere of departed spirits in here.

-That's Tinker.

-TINKER: [ Hiccups ] Behind the flowers, Jane said.

Lovejoy.

What?

[ Hiccups ] Pemberton.

He made the original snuffboxes Sam Wendell copied and gave to his wife.

ERIC: Is he buried here, then?

No.

Of course not.

He was born, lived, and died in Birmingham.

This is Sam Wendell's work.

Eric, move.

Tink?

To the crypt.

Tools, Eric.

[ Metal clanks ] [ Thudding, scraping ] [ Gasps ] They're coffins!

-TINKER: [ Hiccups ] -Oh, sleeping beauties.

Sam's ticket to the south of France.

Thank you, gentlemen.

You've saved me such a lot of graft.

Oh, begorra.

If it isn't Smiley O'Reilly.

Wrong church, Father.

Oh, the right one, I think.

Oh, yes.

Definitely the right one.

God bless you all.

[ Latch rattles ] Up?

Up.

Up.

Anyone for a spot of campanology?

ALEXANDER: The point is, he had the shares in his briefcase all the time.

[ Laughter ] [ Bells tolling ] Rather a late service.

If I didn't know better, I'd think it was midnight Mass.

[ Laughter ] I'll come with you.

[ Thunder rumbling ] Village hooligans, I expect.

Should Alexander have taken a weapon?

He took Mrs. Cameron.

[ Chuckles ] [ Door closes ] What's happening?

Are you all right?

Yeah.

[ Clears throat ] Any chance of a brandy and a mint?

[ Man snoring ] [ Thunder rumbling ] [ Telephone ringing ] Oxton 299.

ERIC: Is Lovejoy there?

-One moment, please.

-[ Laughter in distance ] Mr. Lovejoy?

Yes, Eric?

You were right, Lovejoy.

His van's parked outside.

I'm on my way.

A lovely evening, Mrs. C. All right.

I'll go it alone from here.

Your dad would be really pleased if I landed you in jail.

-Well, I'm here if you need me.

-Okay.

Oh!

I've got to be home by midnight.

[ Dog barking in distance ] [ Liquid pouring ] We must do this again.

Evening, all.

O'REILLY: You don't know when to back off, do you, Lovejoy?

Oh, put that away, Father.

You couldn't frighten a nervous nun.

You don't think I'd come here alone, do you?

MRS. MATTOCK: Do as he says.

Thank you.

Now I think we should all sit down and discuss this business over a drink.

Usual, George.

Well, partners, we are the proud owners of a fortune in valuables.

Wrong, Lovejoy.

I'm the owner.

Oh, come off it.

You've already had a lot of money out of them from the insurance.

Mind you, I can't blame you for the fiddle.

The upkeep of this place must be crippling.

And I gather that they are heading for the culture-crazy American market.

Wow.

Provenances, too.

This will ensure you get top whack.

The Yanks love family trees.

O'REILLY: You think you boxed clever, didn't you?

You meddling bastard.

You could have picked somebody with a little more class to do your snooping.

Good help is hard to find.

Even Sam betrayed me.

Yes.

Wonder why he did that.

Sam was an antique snob.

He was happy to take his share of the insurance, but he loved antiques for their own sake... while I am capable of loving only their value.

So he hid them to stop you ferrying them abroad.

I prefer to think of his motive as greed.

That's something we both understand, Lovejoy.

Everyone has their price.

Quite.

What's yours?

My pick of the lovelies.

We'd have to be friggin' idiots to agree to that.

Then it's a deal.

Cheers, George.

No way.

There's no bloody way we're chopping this with Lovejoy.

Oh, yes, you are, Padre.

[ Groans ] [ Grunts ] Hey, watch that -- [ Glass shattering ] It was a fake anyway, darling.

Oi!

[ Siren wailing ] [ Siren stops, engine shuts off ] Lovejoy.

Well, well.

Your seedy little self just happens to be here, I suppose.

What's the problem, Sarge?

Poachers?

We've just had a phone call.

It seems you've found some missing valuables.

Uh, I presume you were bringing them in.

Would you believe me if I said yes?

[ Engine idling ] We've got a few questions we want to ask you lot.

And especially you, Smiley.

Shoplifting, impersonation, leaving a hotel without paying, breaking and entering, possession of unlicensed firearm.

Oh, you've been a very naughty boy, Father.

By the way -- Who tipped you off?

Anonymous phone call.

Yes.

Seemed to know quite a lot about it.

Faces, names, times.

Very well informed, she was.

She?

LOVEJOY: I still don't know why you interfered.

I had it all sewn up, and then the law arrived.

JANE: I was only trying to help.

I can cope with it.

I've been in more hot water than a tea bag.

I was worried about you.

Well, it's easy to cope with a pair of third-raters like Smiley O'Reilly and Gormless George.

I wasn't worried about them.

It was that aging nympho Celia Mattock.

[ Laughs ] That's very noble of you, Lovejoy, helping Sam's widow and expecting nothing from it.

Well, doing a good turn now and again gives one a warm glow, like, uh, Cuban mahogany.

Oh, you're full of surprises, Lovejoy.

Oh, thank you, Tinker, dear.

Tink.

[ Exhales deeply ] Can you, um, hang on to these?

Managed to pocket them in the panic.

Get a price on them.

TINKER: You had me worried there for a minute, Lovejoy.

Thought you were going soft.

Oh, you should have seen Mrs. Wendell's face when she got Sam's snuffbox back.

She was so pleased.

So she should be.

It's the original.

Samuel Pemberton -- 1779 to 1813.

That's right.

Lovejoy?

[ Laughter ] Ahh.

[ Light music plays ] ARNOLD: Lovejoy!