- Mayfield? - Sir George.
Show me.
It better be good.
Damn sight too good for His Majesty's government, if you ask me.
You expect too much from the Defense Committee, maybe.
So, this is it at last, is it?
The Mayfield Kestrel.
Until we can think of a better name.
Petroleum jelly, Hastings.
That is the secret.
You rub it well in, and it will prevent the cracking, yes?
How do you work out cubic watch quads?
Comment?
Cubic things, how do you work them out?
I mean, this ceiling's what? Ten feet up, yes?
- So, do you multiply ten ...? - Hastings.
I am trying to instruct you in the care of patent leather.
Something that will be of use to you in later life.
Oh, so will cubic quadses.
Suppose I had to survey to something or something?
You do not deceive me, Hastings.
You are having these eccentric thoughts because of this girl of yours, uh?
This student of architecture.
Well, we never seem to have anything to talk about.
I tried reading a book about Bernini.
She's very keen on Bernini.
I couldn't make head or tail of it.
No, no, no, no Hastings!
Women do not wish to talk about Bernini and cubic thingamies.
I don't know if she wants to talk about anything.
She's never in, when I go around to see her.
I end up having tea with her mother everyday.
How does it compared to the Messerschmitt 109?
More maneuverable.
Got a turning circle of 800 feet. Visibility's better too.
Fuel injection?
No.
Pity. PM very keen on fuel injection.
Yes, he's right. But we just haven't got a reliable system yet.
There's a lady keeps telephoning, Mr. Poirot.
Sacré! What a terrible circumstance.
There's no need to be sarcastic, Mr. Poirot.
I was going on to say that I didn't put her through to you,
because she wouldn't give her name.
I told her you don't take anonymous phone calls.
But I do, Miss Lemon.
Sometimes I think anonymous telephone calls are the only ones worth taking.
But how will I know where to file her, if I haven't got her name?
Life first, Miss Lemon. Filing, second.
Very well then.
Next time she calls, I'll let her talk to you.
And on your own head be it!
You shouldn't tease her, Poirot.
She makes it irresistible.
Like a solid wall of lead, 2 feet square, coming straight at you.
The main spar must be tremendously strong,
to withstand the g-force of that turning circle.
And the recoil from the gun.
It's built up in layers, so the whole thing acts like a giant leaf spring,
and we're still improving on it, too.
But I can't go on pouring my own money into the Kestrel forever.
You seem not to understand the position the Defense Commitee is in, Mayfield.
They like you. Most of them are one hundred percent behind you.
But that Japanese business nearly brought the government down.
One more scandal like that...
There are no more scandals like that.
You're saying they don't trust me?
- It's not a question of trust. - Yes, it is.
Very well then.
If they want me to prove to them that they can trust me,
that's what I'll do.
How do you mean? How do you do that?
I've invited Mrs. Vanderlyn down, for the weekend.
Mrs. Vanderlyn? Are you mad?
You've invited her down here?
And before the weekend is out, I promise you, I will hooked Mrs. Vandelyn,
reeled her in and gaffed her.
How?
By using the plans of the Kestrel as a bait.
You idiot! You can't go using top secret papers like that!
This is madness!
Hercule Poirot's residence.
Yes?
What name is it, please?
Hold on one moment, please.
It's your anonymous telephone caller again.
She's calling herself Miss Smith this time, but it's her.
- Put her through, Miss Lemon. - Yes, Mr. Poirot.
Are you there?
Mr. Poirot will speak to you now.
- Allo? - Mr. Poirot?
Yes, Miss Smith?
I need to meet you, Mr. Poirot. This is a national emergency.
No, no, no, I can't come there.
Somewhere where nobody will know us.
I'm sure that can be arranged, Mademoiselle.
Where do you suggest?
Mr. Poirot.
You are not Miss Smith.
Yes, I am.
Where is your green carnation?
I wanted time to study you. Besides, green doesn't suit me.
I was carrying my Times.
These arrangements, once made, should be adhered to, Miss Smith.
This is so difficult!
- My husband... - Yes?
My husband has invited a woman to stay this weekend at our house.
No, Miss Smith, go no further.
Poirot does not handle this type of work.
No, no! You don't understand. This is a dangerous woman.
I know that a man as distinguished in his field as you are,
wouldn't handle sordid domestic cases.
There is more at stake here.
I see.
My name is not really Miss Smith.
I am astounded.
My name is Mayfield. Lady Margaret Mayfield.
And who is Lord Mayfield?
There isn't one. I am only Mrs. Mayfield, really
but my father was an Earl.
And who is this dangerous woman you talk about?
Mrs. Joanna Vanderlyn.
Mrs. Vanderlyn is rumoured to have pro-German sympathies.
There's a scandal two years ago, with the young marquis of Lowestoft.
He shot himself.
Ah, yes! I remember.
- Mrs. Vanderlyn was involved? - Yes.
It was thought that he passed on to her certain secret information.
I didn't know that.
It's kept hushed up as much as possible.
His regiment had been involved in testing the Galahad tank.
And you think...?
My husband is engaged in a lot of projects
that are crucial for the future of this country.
If an enemy should gain access...
Surely you do not suspect your husband of treachery?
No, of course not.
But the government has treated him very badly,
ever since that Japanese business.
You must have read about it.
Even though his name was cleared,
they still don't give him the backing he needs.
Bitterness may make him less careful than he should be.
Please, help me, Mr. Poirot.
There is so much at stake for England.
Good evening, Lady Carrington.
Hello, Dawson. Where is everybody?
On the lower terrace, Lady Carrington.
We can only put our trust in the League of Nations, pray for peace.
Isn't that a rather peculiar thing for an arms manufacturer to do, sir?
What did Beverly Nichols calls you? Merchants of Death?
Mr. Mayfield is an armour manufacturer, Reggie
because this particular game can only be played from strength.
Quite right, Sir George.
Oh, sorry, Dad. Didn't realize it was all a game.
Where has the fabled Mrs. Vanderlyn got to, I wonder.
I haven't the foggest. Should've arrived hours ago.
You have met her before?
Once, when I was a child.
Please.
Yes, she's the daughter of H. K. Griffin.
Man used to be American ambassador over here.
Apparently we all have to be very nice to the Americans these days.
Ready if, when the war starts.
Ah! Mother's finally arrived.
All these exciting people. I wasn't warned that there was going to be a rout.
Isabel, I'm so glad you could come.
I'm just sorry I'm so unforgivably late.
Will I be completely deterred if I don't changed?
- You'll be the talk of Steeple Bumpstead. - Oh God, I wouldn't want that.
- Did you have a good travel, darling? - Lovely, George.
The A-11 is particularly enthralling in this time of year. Hello, Tommy.
May I introduce Mr. Hercule Poirot.
How nice to meet you.
- Foreign, yes? - I...
You'll soon pick up our little ways.
Talking of which...
Oh!! How English!
How very, very English.
We've got some very American dry Martinis mixed, if you'd like one.
Oh that would be wonderful.
The problem with the Foreign Office is its very long on protocol,
and whether the Prime Minister of Timbuktu
should take precedence over the king of Ongo Bongo.
Very short on what Winnie describes as intestinal fortitude.
I'm sure that's not true of your Foreign Secretary.
I must bow to your superior knowledge, Mrs. Vanderlyn.
I'm sure you know Mr. Eden a great deal better than us, humble souls, uh?
I wouldn't say that, but when I had lunch with him yesterday,
he was saying more or less the same as you
about the Foreign Office's passion for protocol.
No, thank you.
I refuse to let men waste their time drinking port,
when there's bridge to be played.
Sir George.
You see what sort of a woman she is?
The sort of a woman Mrs. Vanderlyn is,
does not make matters of national importance.
I do hope you're right.
Monsieur Poirot.
Actually, the whole European situation is rather like a bridge game, at the moment.
On the one hand, we have the diminutive Führer
on the other hand signor Mussolini,
the bullfrog of the Pontine Marshes.
In the end, they'll both need taking down a peg or two.
And what about the Emperor Hirohito, sir?
Will he need taking down a peg?
What did he say?
Has he said something nasty again?
He's such a little snort, aren't you, darling?
Tommy is working too hard.
He believes we're on the brink of war.
And he can stop it single-handed?
Something like that.
The truth is, of course, he can do more than most people.
A little slam, I think.
Congratulations, partner.
Aren't you going to give us our revenge?
Oh, George and I have work to do, I'm afraid.
The plans are ready for you, sir.
We'll join you in a minute. Come on, George.
If you'll excuse us.
I'll have to take a promenade in the garden before turning in.
It will clear my brain.
You might have done that before we played cards.
Madame is too agreeable. Good night.
There you are, my friend.
Why can't I stay at the house? That's what I want to know.
Number one, Hastings, you are not invited.
A pure oversight.
Number two, I need you to stay incognito and very nearby.
Why, incognito is gone, for a start.
Why, why is this?
The pub's so crowded, I'm having to share a room.
And you'll never guess who with.
No, Hastings, I will not.
Japp.
With the Chief-Inspector Japp?
And the room has only got one bed.
I wonder why the Chief-Inspector Japp is here?
You're not very sympathetic.
We all have our troubles, Hastings.
I would rather share a bed
with the Chief-Inspector Japp and three of his sergeants,
than to be partner of bridge with the Lady Carrington.
Yes, I've been hearing about her from the chauffeur.
Apparently Sir George is trying to get her to give up cards altogether.
Yes, well, I am very pleased to hear it, mon ami.
She plays abominably.
No, but she loses a lot of money at it.
She's heavily indebted to money lenders.
Really...
Hastings, try to find out for me, if you please,
who asked the Chief Inspector to be here.
That is most interesting.
- Good night, mumsy. - Good night, darling.
What do you think of this idea of detecting aircrafts by radio echoes?
Idea?
It's feasible. We put a certain amount of money in research.
How much money?
Not goin' to tell you that.
Oh, hello! I just came in to fetch my bag.
Don't mind us.
Good night, again.
Good night.
Having that woman here is a mistake, Mayfield.
No matter what your intentions are.
Do you no good.
Do me a great deal of good,
when I get to put her in Holloway prison.
That's all nonsense. All this talk of trapping her.
- What was that? - What?
Someone run across the terrace there.
I didn't see anything.
Anyway, how do you intend to trap her?
I'm sure I saw something.
Why do politicians treat everyone else like idiots?
Probably because they voted for us in the first place.
I've laid everything out on the desk, sir.
Will you want me anymore tonight?
Err, no, we'll probably be late.
You might as well turn in.
- I'll locked these away in the safe. - Right.
Good night, Mr. Mayfield, Sir George.
Eh, just a minute.
You've forgotten the most important paper.
I don't think so, sir.
Sheet number three.
The mathematics for the aluminium stressing.
I put it on the top.
But it isn't here.
I don't understand. I put it here, I know it.
Then, you must have made a mistake. It must still be in the safe.
No, I put it there.
I looked for it particularly, and put it on the top.
You mean to tell me its gone?
Who's been in this room?
No one at all.
Well, it can't just have vanished into thin air.
Someone must have taken it.
Can Poirot be of assistance?
Finding the lost property
is something of a profession of mine.
What is missing?
This is a matter of national security.
I think we should alert Inspector Japp.
Telephone him at the Three Crowns, would you, Mr. Carlisle?
Where does that door lead?
Voilà!
This wasn't meant to happen.
- But it was. You said... - Not like this.
She's turned the tables on us.
Oh my God, I knew it!
I knew it.
I told you not to play with fire.
What am I gonna tell the PM?
Nothing for the moment. We mustn't panic.
I'm damned if that woman is going to get away with it.
Monsieur Mayfield, forgive me.
I do not wish to delve into the secrets,
but, please, can you give me some idea what is on the paper?
I don't know how closely you follow international events, Mr. Poirot, but...
Germany has just announced that she has priority with this country in the air.
And so I understand.
Well what that means, is that that piece of paper
is perhaps our only chance
of keeping our civilian population safe from aerial attack.
Am I exaggerating?
Not a jot.
So, a technical breakthrough, uh?
And worth a considerable amount of money?
Oh! Money doesn't enter into it.
Well, it might with some people and in certain quarters.
- Traitors, you mean. - Indeed.
But anyone, me included,
could knock on the door of the German embassy,
and when I come out, I could be a rich man,
if I had these papers?
Certainly.
Monsieur Carlisle, before I went for my promenade in the garden,
you volunteered to get the papers ready in here?
Yes.
And shortly after that, everyone else went upstairs to prepare for the bed?
I presume so, I don't know.
Yes, they did.
Mrs. Vanderlyn came down again.
Indeed?
That's right. She'd forgotten her bag.
Ah! The old scene. Non, non, pardon, the old trick.
To return for something you say you have forgotten.
Quite.
Monsieur Carlisle,
after you had opened the safe and got out the papers,
did you leave the study again, even for a moment?
No, not for a second.
So, everyone else was upstairs, preparing for the bed,
except Mrs. Vanderlyn, who came down for her bag
and, yet, the plans are stolen.
Monsieur Carlisle,
do you still want to say you did not leave the study?
I don't know what this all is about, Poirot.
Carlisle has been my confidential secretary for nine years.
He has access to all my private papers.
He could have made a copy of that sheet any time he liked,
with no one being any the wiser.
Why would he need to stage a rather clumsy robbery?
Thank you, Mr. Mayfield.
If Monsieur Poirot has any suspicions, I should like all my belongings searched.
Non, non, non, non, non Monsieur Carlisle, I cast not the aspersions.
It is a small problem, merely.
But a problem, that will agitate the little grey cells, most adequately.
With Carlisle on guard all the time, I don't see how anyone could get into that room.
Yes, well it is no use running to conclusions, Mr. Mayfield.
It was from there that you saw Mrs. Vanderlyn in here?
A little further back, I think.
From where I was in the garden, I could see that the dining room was in darkness.
But it would have been quite possible for someone to use those doors
to get out on the terrace,
and from there into the study.
I told you I thought I saw something.
Right, George. You did.
There.
Across the lawn, to a waiting car.
It'll be miles away, by now.
No, no, no. no, no.
The one way through the garden would have taken him directly past me.
Er.., what's going on?
Get back to bed, Reggie.
So, an interesting situation.
The only person who could possibly have stolen those most important papers,
is one of us.
Or Mrs. Vanderlyn.
Good evening, Mr. Mayfield, Sir George, Poirot.
What's all this thing about a theft?
A very important secret paper has been stolen from my study, Chief-Inspector.
Right lads, fan out. Whittaker, take the north end of the house.
Dobson, the upstairs landing. Beales, the servants' quarters.
It is not, perhaps, as simple as that, mon ami.
Whoever stole this paper, will not leave it lying around, where we will find it.
Leave this to the professionals, Poirot.
Missing documents are an everyday occurrence to my lads.
I'll bet.
And who might you be?
His son.
Thought I told you to get to bed.
Sorry, Chief-Inspector. It's all perfectly simple, really.
You see, we know who stole those papers.
Indeed?
- Er, George, I don't think we should... - A guest in this house.
A Mrs. Vanderlyn.
Really?
- Oh well... - So, I suggest we get straight up there and...
Pardon me for asking, sir, but how precisely do we know this Mrs....
Vanderlyn.
Can't go into details now, matter of national security.
- All you've got to do... - George, I don't know that this is the right idea.
Sorry, Mayfield.
I know it's your house and all that sort of thing, but it's my decision now.
Come on, Japp.
Mrs. Vanderlyn.
What is it?
This is Sir George Carrington. I have the police with me.
What do you want?
I'd like you to get dressed, Mrs. Vanderlyn,
and accompany me to the local police station.
What are you talking about?
If you just get dressed, ma'am.
Damned if I will! What for?
Some papers have been stolen from Mr. Mayfield's study, Mrs Vanderlyn.
And?
If you could just get dressed, Mrs. Vanderlyn.
Did you plan this, Mr. Mayfield?
I'll get dressed.
You join us at the station, Mr. Mayfield?
Must be here! Must be.
Where she's hidden it, Poirot? You're used to this sort of thing.
She's got it with her, that's what it is!
They'll find it when they search her.
Let's imagine you're a woman, Poirot.
By all means, Sir George, if it will help you.
Right.
You're a woman. You're in a strange household. You steal some papers.
Where do you hide them?
Sir George, there is one thing in all this that I do not understand.
Continue.
I demonstrated, quite cogently, I think,
that of all the people in the house,
only you, Mr. Mayfield, Mr. Carlisle and myself,
could possibly have stolen those papers, yes?
Right.
And yet, you go on talking, as if Mrs. Vanderlyn was without doubt the miscreant.
What? Oh, yes.
That sort of thing is all very well I'm sure, but
only theory, isn't it?
We're practical folk here, Poirot.
Yes.
Nothing, sir.
- It's not in her room. - She hasn't got it on her, either.
This is a disaster, Mayfield.
She must have hidden it somewhere, to collect it later.
"Froggy" thinks she didn't do it.
"Froggy" knows she didn't do it.
Anywhere you see the dust been disturbed, let me know.
Just one sheet of paper we're looking for, remember?
Could be anywhere.
It's covered there.
Poirot, my dear fellow, I promise you you've never heard anything like it.
You know those boots he wears?
Bang! The other one? Crash!
When he finally gets into bed, it's worse.
Worse?
He talks in his sleep.
"Now I've caught you, young fellow, me lad."
"Japp of the Yard strikes again!"
I thought I'd go mad.
Everytime I manage to drop off, he starts shouting.
"Stand back, lads. He's got a blancmange!"
Some of the things he was saying would make a cat laugh.
I can't take much more of it, Poirot.
I've been through three days of a journey barrage.
Where is he now?
Gone back up to the house.
By the way, I found out who asked him down.
It was Sir George.
Not Monsieur Mayfield?
Apparently not.
Bon, just as I thought.
What happened about Mrs. Vanderlyn?
Oh, she is leaving this morning in a great erm.., huff yes.
In fact, the whole house is quite deserted.
Lady Carrington and Reggie left after breakfast.
Hastings, I want to ask you something.
Ask away.
Last night at dinner, one of the guests said something to Mr. Mayfield, about Japan.
What is it about Japan, Hastings?
Well, this is a few years years back,
when the Japs took it into their head to invade Manchuria.
The press got hold of something about Mayfield's company
supplying them with the Howitzers they were bombarding Shanghai with.
Turns out eventually that the press had got hold of the wrong end of the stick, as per usual.
But by that time, there'd been questions in parliament and God knows what,
and a lot of the mud stuck.
Hastings, I must go back to the house.
Give me half a second and I'll drive you.
I want to change plugs this morning, anyway.
I thought I'd do it up there.
No, no. I need to walk,
and to think.
Mrs. Vanderlyn.
- You left this bag. - Thank you.
Dixon!
Post this for her, will you?
She'd only forget.
Yes, she's definitely running ridge.
Yeah, let's have a look at the carb.
Hastings. Hastings!
Hastings! No more of the tinkering.
We have to follow Mrs. Vanderlyn.
But I've got the plugs out. I will take me an hour to get them back.
Oh, no! Mon dieu.
Viens, Hastings. Allons-y!
Hey!
I'm assuming they're heading for the London road.
There, look!
We must not let them see us, Hastings.
- We get a move on, John? - Yes, ma'am.
- Damn! - What is it?
They should have turned left on the A-11.
Why is that, Hastings?
Because that's the road to London.
Where are they going, then?
Get the map out of the pocket bag.
Hold tight.
We're on that road here.
Wicken Bonhunt?
Clavering?
Brent Pelham?
No. They mean anything to you?
No.
Perhaps where they're going is not the main road.
Look at the villages on either side of the road.
Braughing?
No.
A fellow I knew at the front had a place in Trocking.
Right next door to the German ambassador's country house.
Hastings...
Oh my God.
Can we get there before them?
We can have a good damn try!
Where it is?!
Don't know.
It was on the salver in the hall. Dawson put it there.
Seems just to have disappeared.
God! Can nothing go right?
Good God, Poirot.
Yes, Hastings. We have seen enough.
Come, my friend.
I wouldn't have thought you've have hidden it there, sir.
Have you got any better suggestion, constable?
No, sir.
Poirot!
You have to trust me, Margaret.
I do trust you, Tommy.
Everything you've worked for is at stake, though.
It will be all right.
Who is it?
Bonjour.
What do you want, Mr. Poirot?
I have come back to tell you the plans have been safely delivered.
Delivered?
To the German ambassador.
I'm sure Herr von Eckendorf was very pleased.
Tommy, what are we are going to do?
Also, Lady Margaret, I found this, from one of your guests.
It needed to be posted.
- Give me that. - I do not want to read it.
The address is probably...
err, its a cigarette shop or a news-agent, Mr. Mayfield, uh?
From which you can collect it at your leisure?
No need to go into that, Mr. Poirot.
Let sleeping dogs lie.
No, no, no, no, Mr. Mayfield.
Between the husband and the wife, there should be not "sleepy dogs".
I have no wish to read a letter belonging to one of my guests.
Really?
Suppose I tell you that this was written by Mrs. Vanderlyn?
And that I could guarantee that you would not understand one word of it?
They're in Chinese.
Japanese.
But Tom's signature's at the bottom.
This is the one piece of evidence that links your husband
to the sales of arms to the Japanese.
Somehow, they have fallen into the hands of the Germans.
It was these two pieces of paper that Mrs. Vanderlyn use to blackmail him.
She said, however, she would exchange them
for the plans of the Kestrel.
Tom...
If he were seen to hand over those plans to Mrs. Vanderlyn,
he would be ruined, anyway.
So, it had to look as if somebody had stolen them.
And although he tried to persuade us
that he saw this mysterious figure on the terrace,
it was Mr. Mayfield himself who stole those plans.
It was the safest way.
And they were securely in his pocket
throughout the whole farce of Mrs. Vanderlyn arrest.
And you keep saying everything's going to be alright.
It will, darling. You...
- Let me pass. Let me pass! - Sir George!
I've had enough of this, Mayfield.
What's going on? I've been kept totally in the dark.
Non, non, non, Sir George.
The Germans have got the missing papers.
What?
And you, Mr. Carlisle, I imagine you know this, as well as anyone.
The German High Command now has plans of our new fighter.
On which they'll have to waste six months of concentrated effort,
before they realize they've been sold a pup.
Pup? Pup? What's a pup?
A little dog, Sir George.
Little dog?
Oh pup!
Oh, sold a pup!
The plans were doctored.
The maths doesn't make any sense.
But it will take them a lot of work to find that out.
Good God, you cunning old devil.
Tommy!
Tommy, darling.
It goes against the grain letting that Vanderlyn woman go scot free.
She will pay eventually, mon ami.
For the moment, let her enjoy what she thinks is her triumph.
If you ask me, it just shows the dangers of meeting anonymous women at the zoo.
In you go, Japp.
Well, Lady Margaret got what she wanted, anyway.
Her and Mayfield are all lovey-dovey again.
It must be depressing for you, when that sort of thing happens, hey, Poirot?
What sort of thing?
Oh, everything working out for the best.
Some married couple ready for a second honeymoon.
Orphaned children reunited with their parents.
Yes, it is hard.
But we must put on it the brave face, uh?
And not allow cheerfulness to keep breaking through.
Drive on, Hastings.