Fire!
Ruth!
Oh, Ruth, what on earth ...
Oh, Lewis! All my things!
- Lewis! - Ladies.
Your tea, madam.
Natural, they all put the fire down to a faulty wire,
but I know what I saw.
There was a man. I can see him now.
He was...was stilling across the hallway.
How would you describe him, Ruth?
- Wicked. Quite, quite wicked. - I see.
Of course, Carrie Louise says that I dreamed it all,
but my sister never had any time for unpalatable truths.
Do you think anyone could possibly guess, Jane,
that you and I are practically the same age?
Not for a moment, I'm sure.
I'm affraid, you see, I look every minute of my age.
No!
When was it, this fire?
Six weeks ago.
I'd just flown in from New York for a meeting of the Trustees.
Surely Carrie Louise's husband must have seen something?
Lewis only has eyes for his dear wife and her blessed cause.
She's still keeping up with her causes?
Does the sun rise in the morning?
Naturally, such thing is fashionable when one's a young girl.
I was going to nurse leprous.
You were off to be a nun, I believe.
Yes. Very possibly. But marriage knocks sense into one,
and God knows Carrie Louise has had plenty of practice
ever since she threw herself at that luringly glump.
Her first husband, Mr. Gulbrandsen,
He was something of a philantropyst, wasn't he?
And two husbands later, she is still living of his inheritance.
And she's supered herself with this latest cause.
- Criminals. - Oh?!
She imagines she can "do something" with them.
So, there they are, all living it up in a so-called
"Reform Facility" at the bottom of her garden.
Gracious. And this is what you're affraid of?
Jane, I don't know!
All the time I was with her, I felt this-this presence around her.
And then... that fire in her study.
All her memories went into ashes.
Someone in that house wishes my sister harm.
- And I dare say this all sounds quite mad to you. - Oh, no.
- You believe me? - I trust your conviction.
Nothing has ever surprised you, has it, Jane?
Because you always think the worst.
The worst is so often true.
Then you'll go? As soon as you can?
Do you remember how she and Gulbrandsen
longed for a child of their own?
Didn't they adopt in the end?
I think I met the child. A very pretty girl.
Yes. Gina. A bewitching little thing.
Then, as so often happens, not long after,
Carrie Louise found herself pregnant.
Normally, it's hard lines on the adopted child,
but not in their case.
Carrie Louise was so anxious not to make the difference between them two
that when Mildred came along,
if anything, she tended to over-indulge the little Gina,
while her natural child was left to fan herself.
Poor Mildred. She never stood a chance.
- Hello. - Oh! Hello.
Oh, what a nice trim bag.
You must be ...
The next train on plataform one is the 4:50 from Paddington.
All stations to Little Peverell tomorrow.
I said you must be Aunt Jane.
- And you must be Gina. - How did you guess?
Don't answer that. Come on.
This must be the famous facility.
Where mummy keeps her young men.
Incorrigible.
- Who, dear? - Well, them, of course.
Mommy!
Jane!
My dear Carrie Louise. How are you?
The flesh is weak, but the spirit's as stubborn as ever.
Would you take tea?
I always take mine standing up,
or otherwise one would seat around forever, don't you think?
Allow me to introduce Lewis ...
treasured husband and chief of my tribe.
- Ow. - How do you do?
Amateur dramatics. The things we do for love.
I think you look quite fierce.
- Don't you, dear? - I have no head for such matters.
My daughter. Mildred.
How very nice to meet you after this long while.
Likewise.
I've put Miss Marple in the Fabian Suite, ma'm.
Good thinking.
Jane, this is Juliet Bellever, who's simply everything to me,
nurse, dragon, watch-dog... and very faithful friend.
Jolly! What's for dinner? I'm starved.
As Mr. Kellogg approval, an excess of protein in the diet
excites all the wrong instincts amongst with criminal intents
We found in barley an excelent substitute.
- Isn't that so, Dr. Maverick? - Indeed.
For what we're about to receive,
may the Lord make us truly thankful.
Amen.
And may He, in His wisdom, remind us that without this
and all His gifts, we're like a routeless ship.
Oh, dear.
Doomed to ...
She's so excited this evening.
- Doomed to perish upon the rocks. - Amen.
Amen.
Thank you, dear. Vividly put.
I like us all to eat together once a week.
I like all my charges to feel like they're part of the family.
And so we do, my dear.
They make a splendid couple.
I should hope not!
That's my stepson, Stephen Restarick.
By my second husband, Johnny.
- The theater producer. - Of course he is.
All matter of waflles and strays under this roof.
Eveyone's allowed an error of judgement.
Dad was yours. Isn't that right, darling?
Stop it! You make my mother sound quite a farse!
So she is. A couple of more divorces, I should
carve all her ex'es on the rock of Mount Rushmore.
Not quite a laughing matter.
Steven has made himself indispensible to my wife's dramatic review
Carrie Louise chooses me to stage a show for her every year.
Moral booster for the troops.
Are you in the theater like your father, Mr. Restarick?
I'm in fabrics,
soft furnishing.
Keeps me out of mischief.
But Stevie is going to storm the West End, in the spring,
aren't you, darling?
And Gina's husband?
A gentleman called Wally Hudd. From Wyoming.
Sr. Hudd has a great fondness for grilled chicken.
What is he doing?
He's mending a toaster. A very capable fellow.
Wally was a G.I. during the Normandy landings.
- He and Gina met during D-Day. - You can imagine.
On the contrary, I think they're admirably suited.
Did you have a good war, Wally?
Well, it didn't kill me.
But it didn't make me stronger.
May I help you?
No! No,
such a pity, uh? The fire.
Quite.
Set us back some months.
- Edgar Lawson. - Jane Marple.
So I gather.
Uh... You work for Carrie Louise?
For Mr Serrocold.
I'm his personal secretary.
- Sounds terribly important. - Has its moments.
- But... - Ah?
- May I speak in confidence? - Of course.
Swear it, please.
You see, I have no wish to compromise his position.
- Mr. Serrocold's? - No.
My father.
You see, I am, in fact,
Winston Churchill's son.
Yes, I think I do see.
He does what he can, but they spy on me.
Always have down.
And... the whispering campaign.
If it wasn't for that damned whispering, you see?
Has anyone's seen Mrs. Serrocold?
I was thinking the same thing.
It's the second time this week she forgot her tonic.
The woman has no head for her own safety.
Mrs. Serrocold? Miss Mildred?
Mommy?
- What is that? - Oh, gosh! Mommy!
Mommy!
Gina!
Come back this minute! You'll be out of your depth!
Honey, please!
Aren't you going to come in?
A quick leap. Wonderfully refreshing.
- Gina! - Advert your eyes.
- You too, bro. - Don't call me that!
What were you thinking of?
It happens that Stephen mentioned that
a cool dive does wonders for arthritis.
And you know mommy, always the first to the barricade.
- But she can hardly swim! - Oh, nonsense.
Help! Help!
Happy now? Caused sufficient chaos for one night?
Give me a rest, Mil.
I'm coming! I'm coming!
Careful, Lewis, it does get deep there.
I'm coming! Hang on!
What do they say, Miss Marple? Blood ran out?
Is he an able swimmer, Mr Serrocold?
Can anyone here actually swim?
Very good, low lovers, I'll rescue them myself or die trying.
- You won't do that. - Gina, don't you dare!
I say, Mildred, who are those young men?
Looks like your prayers were answered, Mil.
My dear Ruth,
I had hoped to dispel your concerns over Carrie Louise's safety,
but I fear I can not.
She has the same bright spirit as ever,
but there may, as you suggested,
be dark forces at play here in Stonygates.
Gina is as bewitching as you say.
Certainly, the stepson, Stephen Restarick, finds her so,
while her american husband looks away, as if indifferent.
And then there is Edgar Lawson.
He is maladjusted, certainly.
But there is something else a little wrong about Edgar Lawson.
There what is, and it is and when it touches Carrie Louise,
I can not yet say.
It's so good to see you so well. I know it's silly,
but the world feels a more secure place, with you in my side.
What have I done to deserve such trust?
It must have been a terrible shock for you. The fire, I mean.
In my study? Oh, no, no. That was an accident.
It's just ...
Promise you won't breathe a word of this to my poor Lewis, but ...
Oh, the hero of the hour!
- Albator, Anthony! - Madam.
Eight cons for burglary, four for breaking and entering,
and more gravous harm than I have fingers and toes to count,
but last night, this gentleman saved my life.
All it takes is a little dignity,
though try and say that to the Home Office.
And this is Whitstable Ernest.
How are your tomatoes prospering?
Ripe as prune, ma'am.
Care to try one, madam?
Very nice. Thank you.
Mr. Serrocold's fully recovered from his paddle, I hope?
Oh, quite. Off to London in the first train this morning.
- Business, I expect. - That's right.
Ernest once took a great interest in finantial matters.
Yes, got a bit ahead of myself, didn't I, ma'am?
He used to invest other people's money without their permission.
Still, I fell on the insight to look back on those imaturities.
You have green fingers, I see.
Thank you. And happily free to use them.
Lakeside view, a excellent piece of garden.
Can't think a more pleasant place to telax on.
Put like that, I feel I might join you.
Well, there's always room for one more.
- Mrs. Serrocold? - Jolly?
- There's a gentleman to see you. - Oh?
I'll be along in a moment.
Christian!
- Not whom you were expecting? - I didn't know.
Wrapped as you were, in such mistery!
Nonsense. I told Lewis last night. Didn't he tell you?
Oh, perhaps he did.
I'll get Jolly to prepare Kier Hardie's room.
Oh, Jane, I'm so sorry. Allow me to present Christian.
My other stepson, by way of my late and beloved first husband.
Ah, Mr. Gulbrandsen's son.
- I see. Well, I think I do. - Madam.
I hope you don't deserting us too soon this time.
- Well... - At least stay for the weekend?
I was hoping to have a word with Lewis.
Business matter. All very tedious.
Well, he's not here, so you'll jolly have to wait!
So much the matter.
Come, let us show you the garden.
Such a lovely day.
They might have consulted me.
Mr. Lawson!
I'm Mr. Serrocold's p-personal secretary,
so, Gulbrandsen should have come to me,
- if it's all so urgent. - Indeed.
They take me for a fool.
But I know. That's the point.
What do you know?
He has the devil in him.
Who? Mr. Gulbrandsen or... your father?
Just you wait and see.
Leave her alone.
Spying on me?
Can't you see the old dame wants some peace? Go on and splt.
Gladly.
Is that coffee you have there?
Perhaps you could spare a drop. My nerves!
- I make it pretty strong. - Well, that's the way I like it.
A cup of Joe. Isn't that the way you Americans call it?
Or is that just for the pictures?
You know, I sometimes wonder who or what Joe is.
Well ... God bless him, whoever he is.
Cheers.
You know, when I look out, on all this,
I begin to feel a little homesick for my asters (flowering plants).
You and I, both.
- You have asters? - Oh, no, I... hmm.
- Homesick. - Yeah.
Well, there's only one known cure for that.
Try telling that to princess.
What have I got to give her?
Two crummy rooms and a gas station.
Hello. Stonygates.
Very good, sir.
There's no need. I've already indormed the groundsman.
I'll see to it myself. Goodbye.
- Was that Mr. Serrocold? - Yes, sir.
He'll be home in the 04:27, as planned.
Perhaps I might drive up and meet him from the station?
He prefers to walk.
Very good ... Miss Bellever.
I should see about dinner.
Miss Marple.
Oh! Mr. Gulbrandsen!
Just off for a little lie down.
Well, don't let me keep you.
Miss Marple, you've known Carrie-Louise ...
Oh, most of my life, would you believe?
Such a comfort.
- Old friends. - I'd like to think so.
We have a different perspective, one might say.
How do you find her?
As great an idealist as ever.
Maybe she does not appreciate the evil there is in the world
Tell me, how is her health?
She seems to me well enough.
Appart from the arthritis.
And her heart?
Is her heart strong?
As far as one can tell, Mr Gulbrandsen.
Until supper time.
Enjoy your... shut eye.
Let's hope to spare Carrie Louise from knowledge ...
If it could be carried away from her... because of her ...
Oh, dear.
That's it. No, no, no, keep going.
More into the center. Left in there.
Left, left, left, no, no, right, right.
Left. Okay, up.
To the right.
A bit further to the right?
Just a bit.
Oh, dear.
Further.
Sorry, old girl.
Oh, Mil! I thought you didn't approve of such things.
- Try anything once. - I bet.
Christian, I hope you'll stay for the dress rehearsal.
I'm a little weary.
Could I have some paper and a typewriter brought up to my room?
Of course. Miss Bellever?
I'll see to it at once.
How nice. All of us together under the same roof.
Yes.
Could you give me a hand with this?
Where's your Mr Lawson?
Edgar?
Well, I don't know. Night off, I expect.
Oh, if there's anything more I can do ...
You sit tight and weep like a black sheep.
Oh. All right.
All set?
Ooh! That's not your cue!
Well, I'm here now. Let's go on with it.
Spoken like a "pro".
Madam, you forgot your tonic.
♪ ♪ Oh, hang on.
I normally do this.
I'm sorry, my darling. I've quite forgotten.
- Oh! It doesn't matter. - Butter fingers.
It doesn't matter, Lewis. Really, it's not important.
Never mind, Jolly, put it down. I'll take it later.
- Oh, I wonder, Miss Marple? - What?
I wonder, if you wouldn't mind...
W-well, I don- I don't seem to have my glasses.
- On your head? - No. Oh! Yes, it is.
Hang on with it!
♪♪ ♫ ♪♪
I have travelled far and wide ...
.. to ...
I believe it's "to hail you".
"to hail you ..."
To hail you... to the great gods of our tribe.
Dear me.
They say that I, Big Chief Running Bear,
must brave all ... for the love of my dear.
- "Third and finest", Lewis? - What?
Third and finest.
Oh! Oh, quite. Sorry. Sorry.
My third and finest squaw, Summer Rain.
- Oh, Gina, you look lovely! - Good grief!
That's a lovely dress.
♪ ♪
Here we go.
Her beauties eyes most pleasantly framed.
Oh, bravo! Most eloquent, Stevie.
Edgar? Edgar!
Sit down.
- Oh! Not again! - Wires on the blink.
- I'll go and check the fuse box. - Good man, Wally.
Well, what now?...
Shall we carry on, maestro, or er ...?
- Careful! - Steady, Eddie!
- Something wrong, Edgar? - You dare to ask me that?
- Calm as you like, when ... - He's got a gun!
- It's just a toy. - He's playing.
I've got your attention, everybody? Everybody focused?
Come on, old man, it's enough theatrics for one night.
I want the truth! And I want you all by witness.
- ♪ By witness, by witness ♪ - Be still, I'm speaking the truth.
Stephen, that really isn't helping!
Ok, you're scaring us now.
Look at you! Just standing, you're pathetic!
Will somebody please, get Wally?
Chasing your every whim ...
He's gone and locked the bloody door!
Put the gun down, Edgar.
A nod here, a smile there, "Thank you, Mr Serrocold!"
Edgar!
"How many sugars, Mr Serrocold?"
"Tea, sweet enough for you, Mr Serrocold?"
- Somebody do something! - Don't be silly. He's harmless.
How can you say that?
Don't you just stand there, with your mouth.
Give me that gun!
- Nobody move! - Mr. Lawson.
Don't you think that you might be more comfortable inside?
Nobody move!
All this time it was you, the whispering, the plotting!
- Edgar, please,this is madness. - You promised to help me!
- Edgar, enough! - More to fool me, hey?
Never trust anyone, at least not in this den of ...
Look at you!
They ought to send a lot of you out of this precious litle fecility
and see how you ...
I told you not to move!
- Come here! Come here! - It's all right, Edgar.
- On your knees! On your knees! - I'm not going to hurt you.
On your knees!
Lewis!
That hurt!
Got you! Come on, drop it, drop it!
- There we are. The Show is over! - Edgar! The key.
Not exactly a big game, is it?
But I suppose you can always try boiling him over to a stop.
- Father? - Stephen!
What's he doing here?
Lewis Serrocold? Glad to meet you, old man.
Oh, Edgar, whatever next? Search for Dr. Maverick, will you?
Did I hear gunshots?
- So you must be... - Big Chief Johnny Restarick.
Fresh from the happy hunting grounds of Soho and Garrick.
And former tenant of the great white bed.
Any chance of something moist in a glass, old man?
Why not?
Ha! Look at you, my Botticelli angel!
We have to call the police.
Oh! There's no need to fuss. Edgar is quite himself again.
And Lewis is fine. Aren't you, darling?
It wasn't Mr. Serrocold I was thinking of.
He was always so precise about his appearance.
I'm so sorry.
How could anyone do such a thing?
Forgive me, Carrie Louise, but had you any idea that
your former husband was coming to Stonygates tonight?
Johnny?
Yes. How did you know?
Earlier, dear, when we were near the glasshouse,
you tried to tell me what was troubling you.
Yes, you see ...
.. Johnny kept writing me these long letters,
like some supplicant at the gate,
threatening to end it all, if I turned him away.
- And you gave him hope? - Never!
Though heaven knows what Lewis will make of it.
He gets into the most deadful huff
if he so much sees Johnny's name in the newspaper.
- Mrs. Serrocold? - Do come in.
Inspetor Curry, ma'm. My assistent, sargeant Lake.
- Your stepson, I gather. - That's right.
About my late first husband.
Dreadful shock, a bit of a late night, I imagine.
Jane Marple. Friend of Mrs. Serrocold.
Chair for the lady, Sargeant.
So ... let's see if I got this straight.
The deceased arrived today on a pressing matter of business
with your husband, Mr. Lewis Serrocold.
The deceased then retired to his room after a light supper,
where he was stabbed in the back ...
..while the rest of the company were busy downstairs, locked
in the drawing room, for a theatrical performance that went a riot
on account of a Mr... Edgar Lawson.
That's correct.
Nothing to concern you there, inspector. A momentary aberration.
One of your convicts, hey, this Edgar Lawson?
- What of it? - What's he in for?
Oh, I see.
Edgar rather pressed his atention on one or two pillars of
society. Mr. Churchill ... Viscount Montgomery, and so on...
He's been with us two years. He's made great strides.
And he had access to the gun room?
- Edgar is my husband's personal secretary. - I see.
From time to time, we employ individuals from the facility.
Those who'd benefict from added responsability.
Where is he now, this Mr. Lawson?
Asleep. Dr. Maverick sedated him.
- And were the other convicts? - Safely under curfew.
All the gates of the property are locked at 05:00PM sharp.
Of course.
This er... would be the murder weapon, then.
Military fiber.
Familiar at all?
It belonged... belongs to a Mr. Wally Hudd.
US... Army knife.
The American who left the locked room to fix the wire?
He kept that knife in his room.
Absolutely anybody could have taken it.
I think we've cleaned as much as we can from the crime scene.
I'd like Gina to see me to my room.
Miss Gina!
Oh, Inspector. I'm sorry.
I did wonder ... The typewriter.
Uh ...It's an Imperial Good Companion
Unless I have my evenings muddled, I...
I seem to recall that late Mr. Gulbrandsen
requested a typewriter and paper to be brought up to this room?
Yes, that's right.
It struck me as a little odd,
one would imagine he wished to write correspondence,
only...it doesn't appear to be any.
- Miss Bellever? - As a matter of fact, there was a letter.
I thought I told no one to tuch a thing.
- Who was up in here? - Only Mr. Lewis Serrocold.
Very good.
- Thank you. Thank you, Miss hum ... - Marple. Quite welcome.
- Anything else up your sleeve? - Not especially.
Only ...
There was a rather unusual incident after dinner with
Mrs. Serrocold's tonic. Her husband appeared to spill it.
But I'm quite sure he meant to drop it.
Miss Bellever was rather put out.
Splendid, you caught all that?
Just a little thing, of course,
but after my conversation with Mr. Gulbrandsen earlier in the day
- You spoke with the victim? - Only briefly, I'm affraid.
But he said something rather unusual.
He asked out of Carrie Louise's health.
"Is her heart strong?"
- Her heart? - Those were his words.
What did he mean by that ?
Peraps Lewis Serrocold can shed more light on the matter.
They were having a talk this evening in the park.
I just happened to be looking out of my window.
You are not new to this game, are you, Miss.. Marple ..?
What about a song? Will cheer us all up.
Look at this.
"I, Big Chief Running Bear, must brave all for the love of ..."
Who wrote this drivel?
I did, as a matter of fact.
Ah, not to worry. Gimme a pencil,
we'll see if we can turn this around.
No! We're very good as we are, thanks all the same.
- I think it's jolly good. Well, I stand corrected.
Oh, hello, is that the time?
I say, you couldn't free the Oktober Suite
for a former comrade, could you?
- He's not sleeping in here. - No choice, old man.
- Copper's orders. - Very well.
I dare say that we can accomodate the gentleman in Skid Row.
That's more like is.
Miss Bellever, will you deliver our guest to the facility?
Thank you. ...What?!
I'm sure you'll find the accomodation adequate to your needs.
Quite correct on both counts.
Christian and I did speak before dinner.
And there was indeed a letter in the typewriter.
Ah!... I have it with me now.
I take a dim view, sir, of those who tamper with my evidence.
Of course you do.
But you see, I knew my wife wanted to view her late stepson's body,
and if she got a glimpse to... letter's contents...
All sounds very grave, sir.
Why a matter of businees could be so--
It has nothing to do with business!
- Well, you were colleagues. - In some way.
Christian Gulbrandsen was a fellow Trustee of his late father's estate
together with myself and my wife's sister,
Ruth van Rydock. A sound head for business.
Anyway I take care of day-to-say running.
I have a background in auditiing.
The three of us like to meet,
at least once a year, to keep an eye on the accounts.
When we last met, Christian outlined some concerns ....
Mas, ever cautious, he did not round to specifics,
not until he made inquiries.
He wanted to be sure, you see. And tonight ...
.. He finally confessed the truth.
We agreed that he should write to Ruth at once and seek her advice.
There, there! Read it.
"Dear Ruth ...
.. A crisis of extraordinary gravity has risen
and I'm at a lost in how to deal with it. "
"I know how your deep affection is for Carrie Louise,
how grave your concern for anything that affects her.
Not to beat about the bush, reason to believe
she is beig slowly and cold-blodedly poisoned.
I first suspected this when ... "
And here he breaks off.
He was murdered.
Unbelievable.
Only living with her, "in and out of each other's pockets",
one doesn't see the little changes.
And you think that Christian Gulbrandsen knew the identity of the poisoner?
He had an idea. If only I had pressed him.
I wanted you to know, Miss Marple,
as an old friend of my wife's.
Thank you. To all of you.
You agree, it's imperative she discovers no hint of this threat?
If the woman's in danger, she needs to be aware of the risk.
But who would wish harm on Carrie Louise?
A woman so universally admired.
What possible motive?
Well, most of the house were locked in the drawing room,
Mr. Serrocold here with a gun pointed by the harmless Edgar Lawson
Yes, that would seem to narrow the field.
If I could just ...thanks.
Like I told you, I came straight here.
The er... crazy british wiring,
the fuse box was burned, the second time that night.
- Second, sir? - Yeah. That's what I've told.
The lights went off about seven o'clock.
Can you explain what your knife was doing in that fellow's back, sir?
I... well, it was in our bedroom,
second drawer, bedside table. Anybody could have taken it.
Anybody.
Do you believe him?
I never had much simpathy toward americans.
At least this one did his bit in the war.
- What about house staff? - Night off.
The ex-husband? Johnny Restarick?
I think it was him, sir. It has to be.
He's the only other person who's unaccounted for. Right, sir?
I think we can do better than that.
Never underestimate the power of the obvious, sargeant Lake.
- Sir? - Flotted jailbirds,
rotten to the core, simmering in their own juices.
The leopard don't change it's spots, not in West Bucks.
Certainly well drawed, Sir.
Apparently, they do training like this, every morning.
Training for what?
- What's he doing here? - Lewis Serrocold's orders.
Not keen on the competition, hey? Come on.
Sr. Restarick. A word, if you please.
If you ask me, Lewis wants a closer look.
I mean, these city suits, are just glorified clerks,
coming from the west, Friday night, you know.
Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Oh, please,
I've seen it dribbling down his chin.
- What brought to Stonygates? - Love gave me wings.
- Got to get fit, you see. - For Mrs. Serrocold?
Look, everybody is entitled to a second chance, aren't they?
- Except for muderers. - Oh, please.
So, you came walking from the station, proceeded through the park,
til the back of the main house. Is this correct, sir?
Perfect suspect, aren't I? Quite alone, no witnesses.
Seen anything, sir, on your way round to the house?
Now, I did one of my mad, criative turns.
Here, I wouldn't expect you to understand that.
- How could you? - I might.
Well, it was the fog that got me going,
standing there, in the darkness of the garden.
Footsteps. And then the gun.
And I thought to myself: now that's
exactly the effect that I want for my Limehouse Nights.
- My ballet? - Footsteps?
- Where from? - Impossible to say, old man.
So, you crossed the garden to the french windows.
Yeah. Yes. Well, fancied to a closer look.
Anything wrong with that?
I blame myself.
Christian dead, and now Gina's young american.
You think Wally might have committed the murder?
I don't know what to think.
But sometimes I wonder.
The way she rushed into the marriage,
was it for want of a mother's affection?
If I'd been less consumed with my own work.
If I'd given more time, or more energy.
A child needs to feel cherished in the nursery, doesn't she?
Or she'll never come to know her own value.
Above all, an adopted child.
What was that?
Oh, no, look!
Stop! Police!
Stop!
Police!
Wally!
Oh! Oh, Wally!
Is he breathing?
Are we there?
This is monstruous! I should have been summoned at once!
I am a Trustee. I have rights.
And if someone is trying to kill my sister ...
No "if" about that, I'm affraid. I just received a telegram confirming
the presence of arsenic in Mrs. Serrocold's bottle of tonic.
- Then we must tell her at once! - For pete's sake, Ruth!
Keep your powder dry until the morning, will ya?
Oh, how perfectly quaint!
No wonder you people have lost the Empire.
- There's a killer on the loose! - You think I don't know that?
You think I don't hold my breath
every time she lifts a spoon to her lips?
I'm trying to protect my wife as lovingly as I can.
You're making too much fuss of her. You always have.
How is Mr. Hudd fairing?
Oh, we'll have him off your in no time, ma'am
just as soon as he's fit to move.
How would I know what he's been up to?
How would I know the first thing about him?
I'm only his wife, after all!
Sorry. Such mess.
Found this in a drawer, somewhere.
It's the er... air of contriver, as I don't care for.
What?
Well, I was just thinking how convenient it all was,
there we were in the drawing room, safely under locking key,
preciselly the moment when ...
I get it your point. But if there was no other way out ...
Wally! No!
Gina? Gina!
Don't you dare, gents! Don't you dare!
Get away from them!
Get away! I won't let you ...
You can't take him away.
I've got something very important to tell the Inspector!
What fresh air is this, hey?
- Here, take. - Ah.
- Please, please, Gina! - Let go!
- Come! Leave him! - Gina, please!
Calm down, please. This isn't helping at all.
- He hasn't done anything! - Come inside.
Now, young lady, what was it you wanted to show us?
Anyone of us could have left this room to murder poor Christian.
There, you see?
Come on, sargeant Lake. Come on.
Go on.
This way, Inspector.
Come.
Where does she go?
Sir, look. Matches.
- Recents? - I should say.
Interesting smell.
- Diesel? - Possibly.
So, you see, Inspector, any of us could have done it.
That's absurd. Once Mr. Lawson started firing,
we were all frozen to the spot.
Nobody moved?
Everyone present and correct throughout Mr. Hudd's absence?
- And I want all of you to be my witnesses. - Absolutely.
But the lights were out.
I know what I saw.
Stephen?
He was lurking at the piano. I told him not.
Stephen, that really isn't helping.
No, no. Stephen went for help.
All these weeks writing your letters.
He's gone and locked the bloody door!
And er ... where did he go after that?
I couldn't honestly say.
And young Mrs. Hudd?
Gina?
She was with me, just behind the others.
You quite certain of that fact?
Well, now that you press me ...
.. She came away from the window ...
Will somebody, please, get Wally?
.. in that preposterous outfit,
but then ...
You don't think my sister could ...
Now, we are not jumping to any conclusions.
Well, she's always been flighty. Unpredictable, volatile.
And she's sticking to mamma like fly-paper since the moment she got here.
What, Mildred?
Well, she knocked in that little table.
After that, I don't know where's she gone to.
So, now, Inspector
you're not really going to arrest my Wally, are you?
What are you doing out here?
Smell that?
Giant red-wood.
Smells of America.
This baby is about the last thing in this damn place I can count in.
Don't be so melodramatic
anyway, this "baby" is a Wellingtonia, not redwood.
- Makes no difference. - Wally.
Wally, where were you going in that bicycle?
What about me?
- Darling, what're you doing? - Keeping busy.
Oh, has he been a brut again?
- He's not a brut. - Of course not.
But a chap like that, and a gal like you,
he doesn't know what makes you tick.
- How could he? - What makes me tick?
A flat in town.
A wardrobe heaving with pretty clothes.
And a cow-eyed lover who doesn't leave crums in the bed.
Am I right?
- You don't know the first thing about me. - I know all I need.
One day, I'm gonna be as rich as Croesus.
As soon as I receive my play off.
And you, my dear, you shall be as rich as Mrs. Croesus.
Marry me.
Idiot!
You like to having men mooning after you, don't you?
Yes. Is it very cruel?
Yes. Terribly.
Still...
..in a few years the magic will soon wear off
and no-one will look at me ever again.
And everyone, even you ...
.. will see how truly rotten how really am.
Stephen!
Hello, Mil.
How could you?
I don't know why I'm surprised.
Anything goes with Gina. Or anyone.
Please, don't say anything.
You won't say anything, will you, Mil?
- It's the timing that sickens me. - Timing?
- Mother being poisoned. - What?
Ha, didn't you hear?
- With arsenic, aparently. - Give it a rest, Mil.
Mm... mark the air of tragic surprise.
Don't come with innocent with me, young lady.
As I said, blood, well... out.
Who had most to gain from the poisoning of Mrs. Serrocold?
In the event of my wife's death,
the estate is to be divided equally between our daughters,
Gina e Mildred.
And, in addition $10.000 to her companion..
Miss Bellever?
And a further $10 000 for young Stephen.
No end of motive.
And you, sir, if you don't mind my asking?
Oh, Lewis is rolling in money of his own.
Not quite, if I may put it.
The paperwork looks rather new.
Yes. My wife had to rewritten it six weeks ago.
- On account of the fire? - That's right.
Anything altered?
Well,
only the extra funds for Stephen.
I wouldn't read anything into that.
I think my wife was rather concerned
when its latest musical went south.
And did he know this? Did he know about the extra cash?
- I believe my wife did tell him. - Mistifier.
She is miles away. Miss Marple?
I'm so sorry.
I was thinking about Edgar Lawson and how very odd it was.
Go on.
Well, he has a complex, if that's the term,
to do with his father, Winston Churchill, Viscount Montgomery.
And I'm sure that must be some sad story at the root of it.
Hm, a child without a name,
- probably mothered by some street girl. - Ruth!
- You know nothing about the case. - I don't need to.
It's called feminin intuition. Isn't that right, Jane?
Perhaps it is, although I do wonder, why do turn on you,
the one person that has done more for him than anyone else?
And why that night, at the very moment of the murder?
Odd..., as you say.
Well, it's more than that, isn't it?
It's almost as if somebody put the idea into his idea.
Purposely knowing young Lawson would go off the deep end?
What a perfect cover that would be,
everybody focused on young Lawson, specially if that somebody
had thoughtfully supplied a revolver from the gun room.
- What I did wasn't just wrong, was just ... - Mr. Lawson.
No, let me finish.
It was unconscious, unforgivable.
After all he did for me, was--
Mr. Lawson, are you chipping those potatoes, or what?
As I said, the fault was on my head alone.
- Arrest me if you like, I don't care. - All in good time, sir.
Nobody said anything to me
regarding Mr. Serrocold, or anybody else.
I just get angry and muddled.
Mr. Churchill has his black dog and I ... and I have my red mist.
Nobody said a word? Mr. Stephen Restarick, for instance?
No!
- Nobody else? - You're quite sure?
- Transference is a very slippery fish. - Transference?
Simply put, the redirection
of the patient's experiences to some significant other ,
in this case, the pater or father,
onto the Tabula Rasa of those closest to him.
All you are saying is that
Edgar Lawson came to believe that Lewis Serrocold was his Pop?
In a word. Yes, exactly. Mm.
Indeed, it could be that in Edgar's imagination, the pater
familias was more an object of rage, rather than worship.
In fact, this "spy" of whom he constantly talks,
always watching and whispering:
could simply be a representation of the absent father.
So, "round the twist", was he?
No. Please, Inspector, never, never use that term.
Besides, up until the last few weeks,
one was making great strides with Edgar.
Where were you, on the night of the murder, Dr. Maverick?
I was here, in the facility.
I've made a note of my movements with approximate timings.
Quick, quick! Mr. Ernest is very ill. Quick!
Upstairs into the infirmary.
We mustn't transform physical trauma into mental trauma,
whatever we do.
Upstairs! Take him upstairs!
Madam.
Oh!
I say...?!
What the devil?
- Oysters? - Oysters.
Rotten.
- Must be. - No wonder he was off-colour.
Sir!
So... this is how you feed them water, is it?
- Them? - The convicts.
His name is Ernest,
and for the record, I have no idea of how those supplies have got in there.
I think I could far them a guess.
Oh, would you look at that?
The keys of the kingdom.
Perhaps your Mr. Ernest could come and go as he pleased.
He must be helping himself fom the kitchen.
Or as he took a byte to eat after he slipped some arsenic into
Madam's tonic, which also can be found in the kitchen .
He hails from Whitstable, I believe.
Home of oysters.
Quite right.
One imagines a fellow bought up around this particular kind of food
would know immediately if they were...
- Off? - Quite.
You think the oysters were poisoned?
Of course.
- Sir? - Ruth ordered them for Carrie Louise.
One of my wive's very few indulgences.
Oh, whatever will they think of next?
Might this be the time to break the news to Carrie Louise?
Someone in my own home is seeking to poison me,
and my own dear Christian murdered before he could name my enemy?
I'm sorry, my love, it was my decision to keep all this from you.
I knew something was up, didn't I, Jane?
- So you came here ... - On my orders.
I knew you wouldn't have agreed, so I didn't ask you.
My dear sister, how very prescient!
We're only trying to help here!
Forgive me. I only wish I had come sooner.
Indeed.
And how is dear Ernest?
Unconscious, but alive, thank goodness.
The poison must work his way through it.
That will teach him to keep his thieving hands to himself.
- Provided he lives long enough. - Oh, come off it, sis!
If you really wish to reform these people,
there are simpler and more economical ways to do it.
And that's your remedy for a broken world? Let them eat arsenic?
Darling!
Well, sometimes, I think she wants everything I do to fall appart,
so that she can prove the world is as savage and heartless as she is!
Not interrupting, I presume?
Not at all, I was just leaving.
Ruth, you've only just got in here.
Madam, I gather you've ordered in
several boxes of oysters for tonight's supper.
Yes! Have you seen the filth they serve in this place?
Beige! Beige! Everything's beige!
I would ask that nobody leave this compound.
Don't be absurd.
Would you mind seeing that my bags
are brought down to my car, please? Thank you.
I'm a er ...
Ruth and Carrie Louise have always been the best of sisters ...
providing they maintain an ocean between them.
And Johnny Restarick?
Is he the best of ex-husbands?
"The jury is out". Is that the phrase?
Shall we?
Still, it's not easy to conduct a poisoning campaign
from the bordellos of London theatrical district
An excellent point, Inspector, very well made.
Oh, thank you.
You know, it did occur to me,
that we've all been so busy, wondering if the convicts
could have climbed the main gate to the house
that we lost sight of the other gate.
Other...?
Here, by the lodge.
Johnny Restarick claims that he entered the house through the park.
I gather these are locked every evening at five o'clock sharp.
One wonders,
how did a gentleman, past his physical prime get over it or through?
Well, unless someone gave him a helping hand.
His son. Stephen.
We know he stands to gain from the will.
Perhaps,
although I don't sense any great intimacy between father and son.
Well, who then?
It was the phone call that struck me.
There's no need. I've already informed the groundsman.
I'll see to it myself.
Goodbye.
- Was that Mr. Serrocold? - Yes, sir.
He'll be home in the 4:27 as planned.
If I may presume, Inspector?
What small task were you so quick to entertain, this day?
You were unlocking the gates, weren't you?
For Mr. Serrocold?
Or so they might have left open,
giving another visitor access to to the house, later on that night?
Johnny Restarick.
Quite dashing in his way, isn't he, Miss Bellever?
I used to think so.
No great crime in that, surely?
I'd go up to town, once a fortnight,
on my day off... catch a matinée.
I ran into Johny after the show.
He was in his element.
It all seemed so glamorous, after long afternoons in the country.
I was seduced, I supposed.
Then, Johnny started up about Carrie Louise.
He had to talk to her.
She had to be told,
or our affair would be "tainted by deception".
Of course, the minute the lights came up,
I saw what a fool I'd been.
Look at you, my Botticelli angel.
I was a convenience.
A ruse for Johnny to get back in to Carrie Louise.
His vanity wouldn't allow it, you see.
For her to be married again.
He couldn't bare to be left behind.
Did Mr. Restarick persuade you
to put poison in Mrs. Serrocold's tonic?
I would never lay a finger on Mrs. Serrocold.
Never.
Marks...
Set... Go!
Look, I'm devoted to Carrie Louise.
Why would I want to "bump her off" (murder) for,
and with arsenic, of all things?
Personnally, I got a a weakness for curare.
A much underrated poison.
Give it some force, Sargeant!
What does all of this aid of, anyway?
Just trying to get my facts in order.
You were standing here when the first shot was fired, correct?
If you say so.
The question is,
the moment the lights went out at the house,
how much time does a gentleman need?
For what, exactly?
To enter the house, sort up on poor Mr Gulbrandsen,
then out again,
ready to your great entrance at the drawing room.
See? One minute seven seconds.
Murder is a lot quicker than people generally imagine.
I'm not half as quick as your sargeant.
What? In the sate of his lungs?
But it's hardly scientific, is it?
I mean, you don't even know where I was standing.
You only have word for it.
You might in love with her,
but you rather see her dead
than happily settled with Mr Serrocold, hey?
You're worse than Dashiell Hammett.
Time to make track for the facility.
The curtain goes up in 15 minutes.
You're not seriously going ahead?
The show must go on, apparently.
Oh, Lewis, this is hopeless.
Oh, don't worry, my love.
The Cherokee will take it on the chin.
- There, Edgar, what do you think? - Very smart, sir.
Now, for the "pièce de résistance".
Where is Gina? I haven't seen her all afternoon.
She's getting ready in her room.
She was muttering about... Katherine?
OK, everyone, 15 minutes.
I thought I said you're not to come into the house.
What are you so affraid of, old man?
I thought it was obvious,
considering you murdered poor old Christian,
battered my secretary,
and now you're accused of poisoning my wife.
Take that back! I did no such thing!
Simple statement of the factos, old man.
Right! Come on, then. Come on. On your feet!
All right, all right, whenever you're ready!
- Father! - Lewis!
Johnny, you have only yourself to blame.
The chap flew at me.
You tripped over a chair, you silly goose.
I just wished a bit more of attention, that night,
the night of the murder.
One gets so used to see the world as a sort of stage.
One lives in a state of constant illusion.
It's real enough, though, isn't it, a stage set?
Contrivance it may be, but it's so real.
Hammers and nails. Timber and paint.
Contrivance.
Of course.
Where're you going?
Your chappie with the oysters: has he come 'round yet?
No. Still out for the count. Why do you ask?
Oh, it doesn't matter.
And uh ...
and thank you.
What for?
Would you look at these nails? Just look at them.
Will you promise you'll let let me cut them for you, after the show,
uh? Promise?
♪ The sentries think it's a football that she carries in...
♪ And when they feel, they ask "Is Arsenal going to win?"
♪ They think it's Alec James, instead of poor Ana Bolena
♪ with her head... tucked... underneath her arm
♪ with her head... tucked... underneath her arm...
♪ She walks on Bloody Tower
♪ with her her head... tucked...underneath her arm ...
Hey! Stephen!
Dad! Where's Gina? Where's Gina? She's next.
- Knock them dead, hey? - Thanks.
- You're watching? - Wouldn't miss it for the world.
♪ With her head tucked underneath her am
♪ At midnight
- Your turn. Go! - Oh! I forgot.
Where's my squaw?
Ready when you are.
What tribe are you, then?
Watch out for the cavalry!
Lewis!
Bugger!
I have travelled far and wide to hail you from...
G? G!
To know that I... Chief Running Bear,
must brave all for the love of my dear.
My third and finest squaw, Summer Rain.
Her beauties, beauties eyes pleasantly framed.
She comes,
and I am struck of fresh by Cupid's darts.
She haunts my every wishes, my thoughts, my...
Gina?
Katherine.
Oh, my God.
Tell me it was an accident.
See?
Severed. With a blade, I should imagine.
On the other hand, there is one silver learning.
What's that ?
At least this time, my sargeant and I are among the witnesses.
Yes. Yes, of course.
Any known contact between the two victims
prior to the murders, Mr. Serrocold?
Johnny and Christian?
None that I'm aware of.
According to some of the inmates,
Sr. Restarick headed of with Whitstable Ernest, so called.
Did he ?
Co-conspirators?
So, Johnny had two insiders helping him revenge on the ex.
The convict and the Bellever woman.
And that's just the ones we know about.
Come, I want more men on these borders!
Oh, dear.
What is it, Jane?
- You're not standing for your tea. - No.
Not today.
Poor Johnny.
My favorite mistake.
Would you tell me about Katherine?
- Who? - Katherine Ellsworth.
The murderess.
Hanged, 4th of September 1927, in Portland.
"Mrs. Ellsworth, found guilty on
"three counts of poisoning with arsenic, whore a simple
simple dress of printed cotton on her final journey to the gallows.
She spoke only to decline the offer of prairs ... "
Where did you find that?
In Gina's room, this morning.
Katherine Ellsworth was Gina's birthmother, wasn't she?
Yes.
And the same urges can be seen in the daughter.
I told her, Gina is our mistery poisoner
and...last night's ridiculous carry on with that blond hardo,
making herself look like that murderess, to upset mummy
was nothing less than... a public confession.
I admit I'm at a loss to know
how Gina came to learn of all this, but uh ...
perhaps someone put the newspaper there for her to discover.
That's impossible.
No-one knew. Not even Lewis.
Only myself and Mildred.
Mildred?
How could you? She's your sister!
You always said... we should share.
Well, she won't.
She won't share.
She never did.
Not you.
Not anybody.
Oh, my... my poor darling Gina.
Do you think she blames me?
D'you think last night she was trying to hurt me
for keeping it from her all these years?
Or hurt herself.
I must go to her, speak to her.
Carrie Louise, perhaps you should speak to them both.
Together, perhaps you could lay this particular ghost to rest.
I think I'll finish my tea first.
I think we would all sleep a lot better in our beds
if there weren't quite so many secrets in the world.
How much do you know?
- If I was quite sure... - Oh, I think you're sure.
What do you want me to do?
The only thing you can do.
Just as soon as I finish my tea.
It was Johnny Restarick that gave me the idea.
To think of this room, not just a drawing room ...
Oh, a little to the left, if you wouldn't mind.
Just so. Um ...
Not just a drawing room, but as a stage set.
There.
An evening of dramatics.
The usual entrances and exits.
And backstage, of course, outside, on the terrace.
The audience, myself included, sat here,
audient by a conjuring trick.
They do it with mirrors.
- Mirrors? - Oh, isn't that the common slang?
A few, simple acts of misdirection.
First, the power cut.
You think the lights were meant to go out.
Oh, I'm quite sure of it.
You recall the power cut early in the day,
set off by the spotlights that were being tested before supper.
The fuse box was then primed to blow a second time
when the circuit of the drawing room was overloaded.
- Oh, block. - Wires on the blink.
I'll go and check the fuse box.
The north-american? Wally Hudd?
Oh. Which brings me to the second misdirection.
Oh. Would you mind?
- The hidden door. - Yes.
Now, here we deduce, was the killers second exit.
And, with the lights out, of course, nobody can be sure of anything,
leaving you, Inspector, with a far wider cast of suspects.
What if the the door had nothing to do with the murder?
Hm? What if the killer made a far simpler escape?
Never underestimate the power of the obvious, Inspector.
Indeed. So ...
Would you ...
Now,
two men step through the french windows onto the terrace.
But what do we see? What do we actually see?
Edgar Lawson, of course,
but what became of Mr. Serrocold?
We heard him.
- Thank you, Mr Serrocold. - Edgar!
Nobody move! That's enough.
Another trick.
Edgar was simply mimicking the voice of ...
- Lewis Serrocold! - Mm-hm.
The killer would have taken no time at all.
No more than your sargeant's one minute and seven seconds.
But why? I never saw a man so devoted to his wife.
Quite.
But how do we know there really was a poisoner?
Look at the evidence.
Carrie Louise's arthritis was a cohincidence, nothing more.
And her tonic,
mixed at eleventh hour with very few drops of arsenic,
intended not for Carrie Louise,
but for you and your colleagues to discover.
A few words were then added to the letter
when Mr. Serrocold examined his body.
I have reason to believe
she is being slowly and cold bloodedly.
I first suspected it when...
And the meaning was quite altered.
So, there never was any plot to poison Mrs. Serrocold.
No, Inspector.
And I'm sure Johnny suspected as much.
Hence his rather odd desire
to trim Carrie Louise's fingernails a few minutes before he died.
A sample of nail-clipping would soon have proven
there was no arsenic in her bloostream.
- But how could he possibly... - There, in the garden,
on his way up to the house,
he had a glimpse of the backstage, as it were.
Even through the fog. Gunshots. And footsteps.
And when Johnny befriended Ernest at the facility,
I'm sure began to piece together
the hidding story behind the poisoning hoax.
as for all those treats in Ernest's room
the single malt whiskey, the keys, the oysters ...
.. They weren't stolen.
They were gifts from Lewis Serrocold.
Grateful tokens to a man whose rare talent for fraud and
embezzlement had helped restore the fallen fortune of theTrust
But why?
An upstanding gentleman like that.
"The things we do for love."
Wasn't it like that, the way you put it, Mr Serrocold?
Quite right.
Jane.
Christian Gulbrandsen had discovered your slide into
financial corruption and sort to expose it.
Only his afection for Carrie Louise gave him pause.
Was her heart strong, you see.
You must have known,
he was onto you, the last time Christian came to Stonygates.
When the Trustees convened, seven weeks ago,
that's when you conceived your plan, wasn't it?
First, the fire,
started not by faulty wiring,
but by your accomplice, Whitstable Ernest.
Concealed behind the hidden door.
Only he left a few tale trail drops of petroleum.
The smell we talked of diesel on the floor boards.
The real target of those flames
wasn't your wife's photographs or even her will,
it was the accounts records housed in the filing cabinet.
That bought you some time,
but you knew Christian couldn't be put off forever.
And so you were ready to silence him when he next came up to Stonygates
The reform facility ate up all we had.
The buildings. The endless priviledges.
It was the only way ...
I poured everything in it.
The Trust.
My own fortune.
It was the last resort.
You see that, don't you?
It was the only way I knew to make you happy.
If you found out...
You didn't have to prove yourself to me.
With Johnny Restarick waiting in the wings?
- Johnny? - I saw his letters to you.
- The man was unstoppable. - No!
You are my husband.
You knew a little, didn't you?
I wondered. When Johnny ...
His new friendship had to be scotched,
before Whitstable Ernest let something slip.
The arsenic in the oysters kept Ernest out of the harm's way.
And Johnny?
A spontaneous killing, I would wager,
while he was under that lightening operators ...
.. waiting for a word with the leading man.
But were on stage all the time.
If it wasn't you ...
Edgar Lawson!
Father?
- Edgar! - Sargeant!
- Edgar! - Son!
Edgar!
Come on! quick!
Hurry up, lads!
Quick!
Keep looking!
- Did you know? - I wondered.
Lewis was always quick to end
any iddle talk about Edgar's true provenance.
And then there was Edgar himself.
His madness... seemed unconvinced somehow,
the quest for a missing father. I. .. I'm so sorry.
Oh, Lewis. Why didn't he just tell me?
Perhaps too scared you wouldn't approve.
What, with my check at history?
Well, at least he died trying to save his own son.
I try to take some comfort in that.
And maybe that means he was a good man, after all?
Like being bulleted, back in the war.
- Be careful with that. - I wouldn't do that if I were you.
- It's part of a hidden door. - Here, let me show you.
Oh, help me, darling. - Of course.
So clever.
Come on, Jane. We're late enough already.
The flight leaves at four,
and, apparently, the pilot refuses to wait.
Of course.
Are you sure you won't change your mind?
Manhattan is fabulous at this time of the year.
Quite sure, thank you, Ruth.
Damn british wiring.
One minute.
Damn!
Wally!
Where've you been?
What're you doing here?
You're wrong.
I looked it up.
They're red-wood, not Wellingtonia.
The bur's too tough.
See?
- See? - Wally! Don't!
Stop!
Wally.
Now you've got me startled.
- Wally, I... - No.
It's all settled.
Then unsettle it.
What? Why do you always do that?
- I'm sorry. - Laughing when I'm trying to say something.
I...
I just can't believe you still want me.
Don't you get it?
There was never... not a single moment that I...
When you what?
Come here.
Mil! Sweetie!
- You look just the ticket. - Do I?
Fancy a spin?
Thank you, but no. I don't think so.
Not anymore.
Mil! Mil!
My dear aunt Jane,
I wanted you to know that we seem to be prospering,
after a fashion, here in Wyoming.
Decided to be an american gal, after all.
They say that here, it's not where you come from that accounts,
it's what you make, with the life you were given.
After all this past, after all that's gone before,
Is it too much to dream that such a thing is possible?
All our love, Gina