ROOKS CAWING GUNSHOT, ROOKS CAWING MENACINGLY Damn pests!

HE GROANS Jack?

I'm here, darling, I'm here.

It's all right, Susan!

I just stumbled, that's all.

DISTANT GUNSHOT You shouldn't be out here.

You know what Dr Bernard said.

So soon after the operation.

Yes, I know what Dr Bernard said.

Stay inside, get plenty of sleep.

While that may be good advice for a tortoise, Susan, but not for... HE GROANS - Damn this infernal ulcer.

- Darling, you're still weak.

It'll mend itself.

It just takes time.

You've got to learn to be patient.

ROOKS CAWING What is it?

ROOKS CAWING JONATHAN: Susan?

ROOKS CAWING MENACINGLY It's up there again.

That face.

ROOKS CAWING MENACINGLY SHE GROANS You heard it that time, Jack.

Don't tell me you didn't hear it.

That mad horrible cackling.

She was up there.

Up there, like before.

Laughing.

Well, this is it.

What was his name again?

Naughton.

Samuel James Naughton.

Welcome to my hotel.

This is the greatest day of my life.

- Let me take your bags.

- Thank you, Monsieur Naughton.

We received your letter this morning and, as you see, we came straight here.

I've got two of my best rooms all ready and waiting for you, gentlemen.

Thank you, Monsieur Naughton.

Now, in your letter, you stated that three farm workers have been poisoned, the syringe of the doctor has gone missing and that it is only I, Hercule Poirot, who can solve the mystery.

That's right, sir.

But there's plenty of time.

How about a nice pot of tea first?

Oh, that's very kind.

You don't do sandwiches at all, do you?

Monsieur Naughton, in a matter of murder, there is never the time to lose.

The facts of this case, if you please.

Right, you are, sir.

It's all here.

The first two hundred pages, anyway.

The Needle In The Haystack?

A new murder mystery by Clarissa Naughton?

I use a woman's name.

Seems to help them sell better.

It's a corker of a plot, only I've got myself into a bit of a stew with the ending.

So I thought, I'll drop him a line.

Perhaps he'll come and sort it out for me.

So, I said to my wife, you can but ask.

And blow me down, here you are.

NAUGHTON CHUCKLES I did mention it was a book in the letter?

POIROT: Oh, Hastings!

Mon Dieu, sacre alors!

One hundred and twenty-five miles, Hastings!

We come on a wild gooseberry hunt!

And now we have missed our last train, and we cannot leave until the morning.

Sacre!

Cheer up, Poirot.

Plenty of things to do to while away... I say, that looks like fun!

SHEEP BLEATING Come on, Poirot.

Genuine death masks of local murderers.

I say, this is interesting.

Apparently, they got them by taking actual wax impressions of the killers' faces after their execution.

Pretty grisly stuff, eh?

I find it most curious, Hastings.

This English passion for perusing a collection of glorified scarecrows.

So far, I have not seen one likeness that is truly accurate.

Hastings?

I'm sorry, sir, we're just closing.

I'll have to ask you to leave.

- Are you coming, Hastings?

- Locking-up time, I'm afraid.

- Yes, but... GUARD: This way, please, sir.

Sir.

Never quite as realistic in the flesh, somehow, are they?

DR BERNARD: Any pain there?

No.

Well, I don't think there's any serious damage, but for goodness sake, be more careful, Jonathan.

You know, these things can perforate.

And it's not just a question of diet.

Any stress or exertion is strictly taboo.

Instances of post-operative erosion can often have quite serious... - All right, thank you, Jeffrey.

Here endeth the lesson.

DR BERNARD CHUCKLES Now, why don't you join us for dinner?

DR BERNARD: Ah.

Will you wanting a table in the restaurant at all?

We do stop serving at nine.

- Thanks.

I'm actually here to see some friends.

I'll be dining with them tonight, up at Marsdon Manor.

- Oh, yes, I know it, sir.

Well, er, have a good evening.

Mr Poirot.

Have you worked it all out now, my whodunnit?

No, Monsieur Naughton.

I do not give another thought to your whodunnit.

The brain of Hercule Poirot is like a finely-tuned engine of the motorcar.

It does not run on the cheap, low-grade fuel.

NAUGHTON CHUCKLES Not to worry.

I'll give you something to read in bed.

I'll just get your keys for you.

Oh!

Someone just back from Africa?

Kenya, actually.

Just a small present for someone.

If you'll excuse me.

Monsieur.

- Oh.

- Thank you.

BLACK: I picked it up in one of the markets.

Thought it was rather well done.

Something another artist would appreciate.

It's actually supposed to be some sort of talisman, you know, evil spirits of the departed, all that hokum.

I'm sorry, have I said something?

Oh, Andrew, I don't think you've met Jeffrey Bernard, my medic.

This is Captain Black, an old family friend just over from East Africa.

Oh, really?

Where were you stationed?

- Kenya.

Near Lake Victoria.

- A-ha!

- Shall we go in, darling?

- Doctor?

DR BERNARD: I've a cousin in, er, in Nairobi.

DR BERNARD AND BLACK CONTINUE CHATTING Ah.

We're just about to have dinner, Miss Rawlinson.

Won't you join us?

Erm, thank you, Mr Maltravers.

The... the books are still in a bit of a mess, I'm afraid.

Well, perhaps you could join us later?

WIND HOWLING SUSAN: It's as though she's mocking me.

And then, just as suddenly, it stops.

As if I completely imagined it all.

So, let me get this clear.

What you're saying is that in the garden is the ghost of a dead girl up in a tree?

Well, the story is that 50 or so years ago, a young teenage girl killed herself here in these grounds.

She'd been jilted by a lover or some such thing.

Anyway, she climbed to the top of that massive cedar out there and... ..threw herself off.

And, over the years, people in the village... JONATHAN CHUCKLES Well, you know how these superstitions take root.

In my experience of these cases, a lot of it is autosuggestive.

People believe that they've witnessed some sort of paranormal... Dr Bernard, I know what I saw.

WIND HOWLING, LEAVES RUSTLING BIRDS CHIRPING, CAWING Er, I'm just off to the bank now, then.

I'll see you later.

Danvers, chilly morning.

Morning, sir.

ROOKS CAWING NEARBY CAR ENGINE STARTS RADIO: 'Finally, throughout the United Kingdom, 'preparations are nearing completion 'for the national civil defence exercise 'called by His Majesty's Government 'for this Wednesday.

'The Prime Minister, Mr Baldwin addressing...' Ah, Poirot.

Sleep well?

POIROT: Like the top, Hastings.

I am turning and spinning all of the night.

And then, at three o'clock in the morning, helas, the ultimate desperation.

Ah, Monsieur Naughton, this really is incroyable.

There is such a tangle of the confused threads, I admit surrender.

Everyone has the alibi that is unbreakable.

Who could possibly have committed the murders?

I know.

That's what stumped me.

I seem to have backed myself into a corner this time, and I can't get out.

Not to worry.

Was the accommodation all right?

No, Monsieur Naughton.

The accommodation was all wrong.

Oh.

The duck-feather pillows... It feels as if the ducks are still in them.

Looks as if Captain Black didn't enjoy his stay much, either.

Comment?

Booked in for a full week last night, paid up in advance, and now this morning he's gone.

Perhaps he was frightened away by ghosts.

Now, then, breakfast.

How about a nice kipper?

They're fresh today.

My tisane, two slices of bread, toasted on one side only, if you please.

Ghosts, did you say?

Oh, yes.

Haunted house, Marsdon Manor.

Where he went last night.

They say it's full of them.

You have seen them yourself?

Well, no, not personally, I haven't, of course.

How do you know they are fresh?

Sorry?

The kippers.

NAUGHTON CHUCKLES Oh, yes.

They're fresh, all right.

We get them delivered twice a week from Grimsby.

So, it is the place of the untold evil?

Crawling with the spirits of the living dead?

Grimsby?

Marsdon Manor.

Monsieur Naughton, my breakfast, if you please.

We both have the urgent train to catch.

Is Mr Maltravers still outside?

I need to have a word with him.

I suppose he must be.

Is it eleven already?

He's usually come in for his pills by now.

Madam, it's Mr Maltravers!

I think you'd better come quick!

POLICE SIREN RINGING Come on!

Move along!

What is it now?

SERGEANT: Move yourself.

It's an emergency.

Shift yourself.

CARS HONKING Allez!

Allez!

Don't you come that, matey.

You just move back.

Hold on, isn't that Hercule Poirot?

Right on our doorstep.

DANVERS: Nothing's been touched, sir.

That's just how I found him.

Thank you.

The doctor warned us all it could happen.

That wretched ulcer could rupture and cause internal bleeding.

He must have choked on the blood.

If only he'd listened, taken a little advice.

Fate can be so cruel at times.

Monsieur Danvers, you say you discovered the body at eleven... ..but before this, when was the last time that you saw him alive, your employer?

About half past nine.

He plonked himself on the old stone seat by the hedge.

He often went there for a little snooze after breakfast.

The stone seat?

HASTINGS SIGHS His poor young wife.

It's so heartbreaking.

They hadn't even been married two years.

Excuse me, officer.

Met at one of them society parties, up in London.

A real whirlwind romance.

If ever two people were in love... And, the other lady?

Miss Rawlinson?

She goes back a lot longer.

She'd been his secretary... it must have been 20 years.

Well, secretary?

She practically ran his affairs for him.

He wasn't the most organised of gentlemen.

Terrible sight, though.

Something about that look in his eyes.

Almost as if he'd seen a ghost.

Yes.

Come along, my dear, take one of these.

POIROT: Eh bien, regardons, regardons.

Ou est-il?

Ah, voila!

What have you found?

What I was looking for.

I don't see any... EGG CRACKING SERGEANT: Ah, look at that!

Un moment!

Qu'est-ce que c'est?

Ah, there are more.

ROOK CAWS Looking puzzled, Poirot.

I can't see your problem.

Poor chap had a stomach condition.

You heard what the ambulance man said.

Internal haemorrhage, plain as day.

Caused him to choke to death.

- Certainement, Hastings.

That is the conclusion most obvious.

But perhaps it is too obvious.

You noticed, of course, the faint ridges in the grass?

- Ridges?

And you cannot have failed to notice the mud across the back of his shoes?

You put those two facts together, Hastings, and you reach the conclusion that is most disturbing.

The body of the dead man... was dragged physically from the stone seat... ..to the foot of the tree.

HASTINGS: Good Lord!

I think it is time that we telephoned the Chief Inspector Japp at Scotland Yard.

SUSAN: We were in the south of France... two months ago.

That's when it got really bad.

We had to cut short our holiday, rush back so they could operate.

They said so long as he rested, took things easy, there was every chance he'd make a full recovery... ..but, er... ..you couldn't keep Jack indoors like that.

All day long.

He'd suffocate, go mad.

My dear, do you think it's... It was her.

I know it.

She killed him.

"She," Madame Maltravers?

I think it would be best if you all left now.

She's still in a state of shock.

Up there... in the tree.

That awful... ..laughing woman.

That's what he saw.

That's what... ..frightened him to death.

GLASS SHATTERS ROOKS CAWING JAPP: Life insurance policy, Poirot.

Fifty thousand pounds.

That is indeed a great amount of money, Chief Inspector.

Ask yourself, Poirot.

A man insures his life for a hefty sum like this.

His health takes a sudden turn for the worse.

He becomes a burden on his poor young wife.

He might decide life's not worth living any more.

He's more use to her dead than alive.

- Suicide?

- Mm.

Insurance fraud.

It's certainly worth considering.

Well, the boys from the insurance company have been doing their homework.

And it seems that our Mr Maltravers' business affairs have been going through rather a sticky patch of late.

As things stood when he died, he was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Non, non, non.

Non, merci.

Now, that would give him a pretty powerful motive to engineer his own death, pay off his debts and make sure Mrs Maltravers was left well provided for.

POIROT: Tell me, Chief Inspector Japp, how is Monsieur Maltravers supposed to have taken his life when there are no signs of the violence, no injuries of any kind on the outside, and there is no poison that can fill the mouth of a man with the blood?

Presumably, the postmortem will tell us if it was the ulcer.

JAPP: Yes, that'll take a couple of days yet.

We've got to get a pathologist over from Norwich.

Of course, we mustn't forget Captain Black.

Now, he left in a bit of a hurry.

I hope you've got your lads on the lookout for him, Chief Inspector.

Yes, we've circulated a full description to all the major seaports.

Although, of course, it's not really the... You seem to know a lot about all this.

Crime and detection, Chief inspector, are a special hobby of mine, as Mr Poirot here will tell you.

Now, I've drawn up a little list of the principal suspects, which I think you'll find very useful.

Thank you.

Monsieur Naughton, perhaps will you oblige us with a little more of your most illustrious apple sauce?

- Certainly.

POIROT: Thank you.

So, what do you reckon, then?

If it wasn't suicide and it wasn't natural causes... Surely you don't believe all this hogwash about ghosts and haunted trees?

I believe, mon ami, that there is at work here some great evil.

In what shape or form, we shall soon discover.

WIND HOWLING POIROT: Sometimes, they walk in their sleep, no?

And, like the misdeeds of the past, they return to haunt us.

You think I'm mad.

Out of my mind.

What I said before.

- No, no, no, Madame Maltravers.

Like you, I also believe that there was in the garden something... ..that struck the terror into the heart of your poor husband.

It wasn't only the garden, Mr Poirot.

There was something else.

A couple of weeks ago... ..we were just getting ready to go to bed.

'Jack was in the bathroom.

'I'd just taken my sleeping pill.

'I turned to the mirror to brush my hair and...' SHE SCREAMS SUSAN: 'It was her blood.

I know it was her blood.'

Tell me, madame... ..when your husband went for his walk in the garden, you observed him from the window?

SUSAN: I saw him go out.

Then he disappeared from my view round the other side of the house.

I was working on a watercolour of the south lawns.

And he used to go and sit in front of the old yew hedge.

- On the west side of the house?

- Mm-hm.

And the secretary to your husband, Mademoiselle Rawlinson?

Er, she went to the bank.

At about nine-thirty.

And returned at eleven.

I'd just finished my painting.

I think I was just washing the brushes through when she came back in and asked to see Jack.

That's when Danvers came running across the lawn... HER VOICE BREAKS, SHE SOBS I'm sorry, Mr Poirot, I'm sorry.

Madame?

WOMAN: National Civil Defence Day.

Is it an emergency?

The doctor does have rather a lot of house calls later this morning.

- S'il vous plait, madame, say to him it is Hercule Poirot.

WOMAN: Thank you, Doctor.

- I think that he will see me.

WOMAN: Goodbye.

Doctor, there's a gentleman outside suffering from "Ercule Poirot".

He seems to think it's quite serious.

Oh!

Yes, thank you, Margaret.

Show him through.

Thank you.

- Mr Poirot.

- Monsieur le docteur.

I would like to introduce you, if I may, to my associate Captain Hastings.

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

For the children.

Help yourself.

HASTINGS: Oh.

Thank you.

Dr Bernard, in your expert opinion... ..how dangerous was it, the stomach condition of Monsieur Maltravers?

I'm afraid I'm not in the fortune-telling business, Mr Poirot.

Of course, we all knew there was a risk of complications.

There always is.

But he was a hardy type, Jonathan, a very strong constitution.

He shouldn't have had any problems.

He really shouldn't.

DR BERNARD SIGHS DR BERNARD: What do I know?

Forty-five years of medical experience... ..sometimes, doesn't amount to a jot, in the end.

HASTINGS MUNCHING Rot your teeth, you know.

You also prescribed the drugs for Madame Maltravers?

Yes, from time to time.

Sleeping pills, that sort of thing.

She frequently... That's odd.

Something is wrong, Dr Bernard?

Chloroform.

Five-fluid-ounce bottle.

It's gone.

TELEPHONE RINGING Hello?

Mars... Oh, Mr Poirot.

No, I'm afraid she isn't.

She went into town to the civil defence meeting at the parish hall.

About an hour ago.

A civil defence meeting.

Come, Hastings, the time may be of the essence!

Excuse me, madame.

Excuse me, could you tell me, please, where is the parish hall?

Merci.

Vite, mon ami!

WOMAN: ..enabling the wearer to breathe in, without fear of inhaling noxious gases.

POIROT PANTING WOMAN: In the event of a sudden emergency, make sure the mask is secured by fastening the strap at the back... POIROT CLEARS THROAT Excuse me, madame.

Madame Maltravers, are you here?

Madame Maltravers!

ALL GASPING The gas mask, quick!

Remove it at once!

Excuse me, clear the way, please!

Excuse me!

Excuse me, please!

Excuse me!

Excuse me!

Some smelling salts or some brandy.

And fetch at once a doctor.

- Right.

Captain Black.

Quick, Hastings, he must not leave.

In a bit of a rush, aren't we, sir?

SHE INHALES SHARPLY, GASPS POIROT: It is all right, madame.

Sir?

Hastings, I think it would be wise for you to travel back with Madame Maltravers until she is quite recovered from this ordeal.

- Yes, of course.

- Madame.

Thank you.

- See you back at the hotel.

- Oui.

INDISTINCT CHATTER Why did you try and run away back there, Captain Black?

I wasn't running away.

I was running downstairs to see if I could help.

I didn't fill this blasted thing with poison!

My God!

I wouldn't harm so much as a hair of her... I've done nothing wrong.

Well, in that case, perhaps you'd like to tell us why you vanished like a ghost on the morning of Mr Maltravers' death... where you've been for the last 24 hours and how you came to turn up again here today, as an attempt is being made on his poor young widow's life.

DOOR CREAKING Captain Black, if you will not answer the questions of the Chief Inspector Japp, perhaps you will answer one of mine.

How long have you been in love with Madame Maltravers?

This is preposterous!

Come, come, come, come, monsieur.

The truth, if you please.

How could I stay here?

How could I stay when every second was agony for me?

Seeing the two of them like that.

I thought I'd managed to get over it.

But when I saw her again, I knew it was no good.

I was just so ashamed of my feelings.

I got the train back to Tilbury next morning.

Planning to return to East Africa and put it all behind me.

Then, when I read of his death in the newspaper... naturally, I... I had to come back.

Yes, of course.

The newspaper.

Tell me, Captain Black, the night you arrived at the hotel, you had with you a parcel, is that not so?

Wrapped in newspaper?

Yes.

It was an African carving, a kind of talisman that I picked up while travelling in Kenya.

Yes, and you said, as I now recall, it was a present for someone.

For Susan, that's right.

I'm afraid it might have unnerved her rather.

She's slightly superstitious about that kind of thing.

Is this relevant, Poirot?

Relevant, Chief Inspector?

Yes.

For we have now found the key... ..to the death of Monsieur Jonathan Maltravers.

The colours really are delightful, I must say.

You really have a special talent, Mrs Maltravers.

Thank you.

Look, are you sure you're all right now?

It's been such a ghastly ordeal.

Some rest and quiet, I think, is what she needs the most.

She's in safe hands.

Aren't you, my dear?

SUSAN: Captain Hastings!

I'd like you to have this for all your help today.

I say, that's awfully kind of you.

Are you sure?

I can't stand another night of it.

On my own, in the house, with her.

HASTINGS: I don't understand.

MISS RAWLINSON: There was something between them, once upon a time, years before I met him.

Of course, It was all over as far as Jack was concerned, but... ..I don't know.

With all this, I just don't know any more.

All of a sudden, she scares me.

I see.

Come back and have dinner with us tonight, please.

You and Mr Poirot.

I'd just feel safer.

So, what's happened?

Have they arrested Captain Black?

The fog, it begins to clear, Hastings.

But there are yet many questions that remain unanswered.

So, I come here for the early lunch.

The salade nicoise will prove most nourishing for the little grey cells.

So, what have you found out?

Was Maltravers murdered or not?

Oh, yes, Hastings, he was murdered, most cruelly and in the cold blood.

What about Mrs Maltravers?

I wonder who put the chloroform in her gas mask.

Ah, yes.

The mask.

How is Madame Maltravers now?

She is quite recovered from her ordeal?

Yes.

Sort of.

Actually, she's asked us both out there to dinner tonight, to the manor.

She still seems to be worried about that, er, secretary, Miss... Hastings, is this not the picture painted by Madame Maltravers on the morning of the tragedy?

Yes.

My worst suspicions are now confirmed.

Regarde, Hastings, it is all here.

This picture tells the whole story.

You do not see?

Sorry, Poirot.

Just looks like a painting of the garden to me.

The eggs.

Yes, the broken eggs.

It must still be there.

Ah, why did I not see before?

Mr Poirot.

Inspector Japp on the phone from the local police headquarters.

Sounds as if the plot's thickening.

JAPP: 'Ah, Poirot.'

I thought you'd be interested to hear the rather startling results of that postmortem.

According to this, what actually killed Jonathan Maltravers was... How the devil did you know that?

We have not the moment to waste here, Inspector.

Tell me, do you still have stationed at the manor house the constable outside in the garden?

Bon.

Then listen to me carefully.

You must give to him the following instructions.

Incidentally, Monsieur Naughton, the killer is the explorer who is bedridden.

- Really?

- Mais oui.

He fires into the fruitcake a poison dart from his window upstairs.

Good Lord!

I think you may have solved it for me.

And you, my friend, can repay... with a small service for me.

INAUDIBLE CONVERSATION Susan, I... I'm so sorry about... I had to come back.

Do you understand?

It was very sweet of you, Captain.

WIND HOWLING Seems to be blowing up a bit of a gale out there.

Eh, bien, Hastings, the strong gales, they are to be expected at this time of year.

Strong enough to waken the dead.

POIROT YELLS Oh, God!

I'm sorry.

No, no, no, madame.

Sit yourself.

Please be seated.

It is nothing.

Voila.

SUSAN LAUGHS Oh, my God!

My God, what's happening?

SUSAN GASPS POIROT: It is the wind, madame.

Nothing more.

No!

No, those doors were locked.

I locked them both before dinner, I distinctly remem... SHE GASPS, SCREAMS Be still, Madame Maltravers.

Jack!

Oh, my God!

No, no, it can't be.

Madame, your hand, it is bleeding.

No!

No, Mr Poirot.

Jack's blood.

My husband's blood... ..is on my hands.

Because... ..I... ..killed him.

Lights, Hastings.

HASTINGS: Lights!

Chief Inspector?

POIROT: You have heard enough, Chief Inspector Japp?

I'm afraid it's all over, Mrs Maltravers.

LOCK CLICKS, DOOR CREAKS Entrez.

SHE GASPS You performed your part most splendidly... ..Monsieur Naughton.

I came tell my grandchildren I helped Mr Hercule Poirot solve one of his most baffling cases.

Merci, monsieur.

Right, come on, Baines, let's get her out of here.

Susan.

You did this for me?

For you?

SHE CHUCKLES But I don't understand.

This mask?

A wax cast, mademoiselle... ..taken from the face of the deceased.

A device most macabre, huh?

But I fear it was necessary for the success of this little masquerade.

But... the blood?

A little red paint... ..that I pressed into her hand a few seconds before.

In fact, it was the same red paint that she herself used to produce the blood on the mirror in her bedroom.

SHE SCREAMS - She put... POIROT: Oh, yes.

Just as she invented the face in the cedar tree.

Of course, there was no face.

There was no laughter.

'The wind, it paints the pictures in the leaves, 'and the screechings of the rook play the tricks upon the ears.

'The seeds of fear, once they are sown, 'begin to grow in the imagination.'

ROOKS CAWING But, why?

Simplement.

To unsettle her husband.

To drive him... ..to his grave.

Remember, mademoiselle, that his condition, it is still weak after the operation, yes?

She knows that any sudden upset or shock could be most disastrous to his health.

Alors, voila.

The insurance, it is paid out, and she has got rid of the husband she had married only for his money.

Unfortunately, Mr Maltravers turned out to be rather stronger than she bargained for, which was why she decided on more drastic measures.

Ah, yes.

The little rook rifle.

SUSAN: Jack?

POIROT: 'Mademoiselle Rawlinson, you are at the bank, 'Monsieur Danvers at work in another part of the garden 'and so she took her chance.

'The rook rifle, with its tiny bullets... '..was the murder weapon.

'Parfait!'

GUNSHOT, BIRDS CHIRPING WIND HOWLING The bullet, it is embedded in the brain... ..and the effect, it is complete... ..the internal haemorrhage that is fatal.

'For the moment, she conceals the weapon in the hedge, 'and in so doing, she disturbs 'the nest and the eggs of the blackbird.

'Her plan to remove it later is foiled, 'because there was, keeping watch in the garden, 'a police constable.

'The body she then drags to the foot of the tree... 'to make us believe he had seen something up there, 'which brought upon his attack tragique.'

Ah, yes.

With the arrival of Hercule Poirot, she starts to panic... because she knows that I suspect the murder.

'So she stages the clumsy affair 'with the chloroform in the gas mask 'to make us believe 'that her own life was under threat.'

All this to divert our suspicions of the most cruel... ..the most brutal murder of her poor husband.

CAR ENGINE STARTS INDISTINCT CHATTER COWS MOOING A sweet-looking girl like that... who'd have thought she could come up with such a grisly idea?

Ah, but, Chief Inspector, the idea did not come from her.

It came from her admirer of the most ardent, Captain Black.

You don't mean they were both in on the whole thing?

No, no, no, Hastings.

The newspaper... Someone just back from Africa?

..that was wrapped around the present of Captain Black.

'On the front page, 'there was a story about a farmer in East Africa 'who had killed himself in exactly the same manner, 'with a rook rifle in the mouth.

'You did not observe the headline?

'Ah, but Hercule Poirot, he sees everything.'

And he forgets nothing.

What about the picture?

POIROT: The shadows, Hastings, they were all cast from the right to the left.

You do not see?

- Sorry, Poirot.

Madam, I think you'd better come quick!

POIROT: Now, if she had truly painted that picture in the morning before midday, as she had claimed, they would have all been cast from the left to the right.

Ah!

So she'd already painted that picture beforehand to give herself an alibi.

- C'est ca.

Well, I suppose we'd better be leaving.

Catch our train.

- No, no, no, Chief Inspector.

It is still early, and the exhibits here are quite remarkable, n'est-ce pa?

To be immortalised in such a fashion unique, ah, quel honneur!

Now, I wonder what is around here.

HASTINGS: Oh, very impressive.

JAPP: Quite incredible.

It's a masterpiece.

A true work of art.

That's his curly hair to a T. JAPP: Even got the little dimples on his cheeks.

A real piece of craftsmanship, wouldn't you say?

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