- What do you think, Poirot?
- I think it looks very untidy, Hastings.
- But it's not meant to be tidy.
Tidy's got nothing to do with it.
It's compact, though-- You have to admit that.
They're using twin overhead camshafts, you see,
with desmodromic valve gear
and a hemispherical combustion chamber.
- I see.
- Ah! Mr. Vizzini.
- How are you today?
- Oh, pretty well, you know.
This is Monsieur Hercule Poirot.
- Hello.
Great detective.
I must watch my step, eh?
It's a pleasure to meet you, Signor Poirot.
- Delighted, Monsieur Vizzini.
- Well, Signor Hastings, you place the order today?
- Well... - Oh, Signor Hastings.
- It's a big decision.
- Seven weeks, Signor Hastings.
The factory of Eliso-Freccia in Milan,
they stand wait.
Will the order of Capitano Hastings come today?
- Well, I've been thinking--
- Mr. Vizzini, excuse me.
You'll be late for your lunch with Mr. Andreotti.
- I thank you, Margherita.
Gentlemen, I will leave you in the capable hands
of Signorina Fabbri.
Mi scusi.
- I was just going to say to Mr. Vizzini,
with this new trailing link front suspension,
I wonder if you don't need some sort of stabilizer.
You see-- - No.
No?
- The radius roll trailing from the cross member
locates each hub fore and aft.
- Yes, well, I appreciate that--
- And each unit's damped by the inclined telescopic struts.
- Right.
Yes.
- You will have to make up your mind, Hastings.
- Yeah, well, I'm going to.
Tomorrow's the last day.
I've got it marked in my diary.
It says, "Decide about car."
I say, Poirot...
- What is it, Hastings?
- Miss Lemon's not here.
- No?
- It's 2:20.
- Here she is now.
- Hastings, please. I'm trying to read this letter.
- But-- - Mr. Poirot, I'm so sorry.
- Not at all, Miss Lemon.
It is of no importance.
Your friend is well?
- Well, he, uh... he's, um...
uh, we went to the Lyons Corner House.
- How very nice.
Thank you, Miss Lemon.
- Thank you, Mr. Poirot.
- Oh, Miss Lemon.
Why do you not invite your friend, Monsieur--
How does he call himself?
- Mr. Graves?
- Yes, indeed.
Why do you not invite your friend, Monsieur Graves,
to tea one day?
- Oh, yes.
Thank you, Mr. Poirot.
As a matter of fact,
Mr. Graves was most interested
when I told him I worked for you.
He's very interested in that sort of thing.
- Excellent.
Thank you, Miss Lemon.
- What on Earth's going on, Poirot?
- Hastings.
Miss Lemon has an admirer.
- No!
- If you sign here and here.
- Oh, how long is delivery?
- There are three arriving at the docks tomorrow.
I'll telephone and...
Excuse me a moment.
- All done.
- Good.
- Another customer?
- What?
Oh, no. That was my uncle.
Just a family matter.
- Oh, right.
You'll want the check now, then?
- Ah, Hastings.
You bought your car?
- Bought and paid for.
- Captain Hastings.
This is Mr. Graves.
- How do you do? - How do you do?
I was just saying to Monsieur Poirot
how much I envy you all
the exciting business you're in.
- Well, you know.
Please.
- Thank you.
I stayed on in the Navy after the war.
I should have come out in 1919.
- Mr. Graves still has a boat.
- Not from the Navy, I hope.
- Oh, no.
- Show them the picture, Edwin.
- All right.
There.
- Oh.
Very trim.
Fantasia Felice.
- As a matter of fact, Monsieur Poirot--
No.
- Yes, Monsieur Graves?
- Eh, no. it's...
Oh, well, why not?
It's, uh, just that I was going to say I was very near
to consulting a private detective myself
earlier today.
- Indeed?
- What happened, Edwin?
- Well, I've been with my employer for 11 years.
He's a foreign gentleman living in London.
- And in what capacity does he employ you, Monsieur Graves?
- Mr. Graves is a private secretary.
- Some very confidential papers were recently stolen.
My employer has been asked to try to buy these papers back
for his government.
He used to be a diplomat.
Oh, dear.
I don't quite know how to...
- We are talking about blackmail here,
are we not, Monsieur Graves?
- Well, these papers do contain information which would,
well, do no good for the reputation
of the leader of that particular country.
And the truth is,
I don't trust the other party involved.
- And with a blackmailer, of course,
one has to be sure that the evidence,
it is destroyed root and boot.
- Branch.
- Thank you, Hastings.
But we must have more details, Monsieur Graves.
- No.
That's what's so dash difficult.
I mean, one hint of scandal
would put the kibosh on the whole thing.
Look, I shouldn't have brought this up.
I'm sorry.
Could I have another cup of tea, Felicity?
- It's very daring of you, I must say, Hastings,
going in for one of these foreign cars.
It's too complicated for the likes of me.
I'll stick to my little Riley, I think.
- We mustn't talk about cars.
We'll bore Poirot to distraction.
- Oh, half the fun in buying cars is talking about it.
Would you answer that, Miss Rider?
- Certainly, Doctor.
- If it's an emergency,
tell them to take two aspirin and keep warm.
- I shall never buy a motor car.
But if I did, I should ask only three questions.
One: does it have the correct number of wheels?
Two: are those wheels firmly attached
to the corners of the machine?
- Doctor!
It was for you.
It was a terrible voice.
- What's wrong, Miss Rider?
- I answered the telephone, and this voice said, "Help."
It said, "Doctor, help. They've killed me."
And then it sort of trailed away.
"Who's speaking?" I said,
and there was this--
well, it was just a whisper.
"Foscatine. Addisland Court."
- Count Foscatini.
Hello?
Hello.
- This is getting serious.
- What's going on?
- I am Count Foscatini's doctor.
I received a telephone call from the count
saying he'd been attacked and was dying.
- Well, do you have a key?
- Count Foscatini?
- Shh.
What's that?
- Good god.
I'd better telephone the police.
- He's dead.
- Look at that.
Must have been the weapon.
- Possibly.
Hastings, make a search of the apartment.
- Almost instantaneous, I would have said.
A wonder he even managed to telephone.
- Nothing.
What do you see, Poirot?
- Exactly what you see, mon ami.
- Two coffee cups,
both with the remains of black coffee.
Dish of fruit.
Nobody's used their dessert plates there.
Two glasses.
Port.
Doesn't seem to shed much light on anything.
- The police are on their way.
- Excuse me, Doctor.
S'il vous plait, monsieur.
This meal, was it provided by your kitchens here?
- Flat ten ordered for two from the a la carte menu
sent down by lift.
Soup Julienne, filets de sole Normande,
tournedos of beef,
and a rice soufflé.
There was naught wrong with my food, you know.
This kitchen's a showplace for hygiene.
- Yes, yes indeed.
One can perceive.
It would be impossible therefore, I imagine,
to examine the dishes from the apartment?
- Washed up, dried up, stacked up long since.
Thinking of fingerprints, were you?
- Not exactly, monsieur.
I am more interested in the appetite of Count Foscatini.
Did he partake of every dish?
- We don't label the plates, you know,
with everybody's names.
But all the plates from ten were dirty
and the serving dishes empty.
So he must have eaten something.
- Let him finish the photographs
before you check for prints, Beddoes.
Thank you for your help, Dr. Hawker.
Oh, well, well, well.
I managed to get here before you this time, Poirot.
- No, no, not at all, Chief Inspector.
I've just been upstairs interviewing the chef.
- Cor blimey.
Haven't you finished in here yet?
- All right, sir. Working as fast as we can.
- A sad occasion, n'est-ce pas?
- A violent death is so wasteful.
God knows death comes soon enough to us all anyway.
- Monsieur Poirot.
What are you doing here?
What's happened?
- Monsieur Graves.
Where is my master?
- Who're you?
- My name's Graves.
I'm Count Foscatini's
valet.
What's happened?
- Your master's been murdered,
that's what's happened.
- Yesterday another Italian gentleman came to see the count.
Sir.
- I'm here to see Count Foscatini.
- What name shall I say, sir?
- Mario Asciano.
He's expecting me.
- Come in, sir.
I showed him in,
although the count hadn't told me he was coming.
This way, sir.
Signor Asciano to see you, sir.
- Avanti.
Entrare, Signor Asciano.
Come stai?
- Sto bene. Grazie.
- Graves. - Sir?
- Go to Bates and collect that trilby
they've been reblocking for me, will you?
- Certainly, sir.
- So you went out?
You don't know what went on between them.
- Well, sir, I was very surprised
the count asked me to leave when we had a visitor,
so I did sort of linger for a bit.
- And what did you hear?
- Hello.
I'd like to order lunch for two. Flat 10.
- It wasn't very clear, sir, but I know they had lunch
because I heard the count order it.
- Hm. I see.
Well, go on.
- Signor Asciano seemed to have something in his case
which he was offering the Count.
I'm not really sure,
but I think he was demanding money for it.
- Ah.
Well, now we're getting somewhere.
Blackmail, eh?
- Oh, no, sir.
The count was a most respectable man.
If blackmail was involved,
I'm sure he was acting for someone else,
but I don't know who.
- All right.
What happened then?
- Well, nothing until this afternoon
when the count told me the same gentleman
would be coming to dinner this evening.
- And? - And he came.
I served them dinner,
and after I brought in the port,
the count said I could take the rest of the evening off.
They went into the study,
and I went out.
- What time was that?
- Just before 9:00, sir.
- Do you think Foscatini was active
in the Italian government?
- Very possibly, Hastings.
- Well, then why didn't Graves tell Japp?
- Because obviously he's respecting the wishes
of the Count Foscatini not to endanger
the negotiations internationale.
The question is, Hastings,
did Asciano take the money but not hand over the papers?
And since neither the money nor the papers are here,
that would appear to be likely
and a powerful motivation for murder.
- That was under the desk.
Apparently the victim knocked it over as he fell forward.
- Yeah, that's convenient.
Gives us the time of the murder anyway.
9:10.
- That was the time
at which Dr. Hawker received the telephone call.
- Good.
- Wait a minute.
I've seen him before.
At the garage when I bought my car.
It's Miss Fabbri's uncle.
Why on Earth did Graves tell Miss Lemon
he was a private secretary when he's really only a valet?
- Hastings, have you never exaggerated your own importance
in order to impress a young lady?
- Most certainly not.
Never.
Oh, well, I once told a girl I was a member at Wentworth
when I wasn't, but she didn't play golf anyway.
She thought Wentworth was a lunatic asylum.
- 'Scuse me, gents.
There's no one there.
They're all at the wedding on the roof gardens.
I'm the only one left.
I'm not Italian.
- Yes.
We shall never find her here, Hastings.
- Well, we've got to tell her.
We can’t just let her find out from the newspapers.
- Captain Hastings.
- Hello, Miss Fabbri.
- Mademoiselle.
-I'm sorry to break in like this.
We've got some bad news, I'm afraid.
- Oh? - It's your uncle.
- My uncle?
- The one who came to see you at the showroom,
Count Foscatini.
- Ah, my uncle.
- I'm sorry.
I'm afraid he's dead.
Murdered.
- Oh, excuse me.
I'm sorry. Excuse me.
- She seems to be taking it rather badly.
- Yes.
- Go!
Open up. Police!
- You looking for Asciano?
- Yeah.
- He's not there.
Not been there since Monday.
- Japp says Asciano's bolted.
They've put a watch on all the ports
in case he tries to get back to Italy,
but...
- Il Primo Segretario will see you now.
- Good afternoon, Monsieur Poirot,
Captain Hastings.
Do sit down, please.
After your telephone call, Monsieur Poirot,
I had some inquiries made.
We at the embassy have no knowledge of Count Foscatini.
- His man certainly seems to think you do.
- Yes, he thought that he was working on behalf
of the Italian government in some negotiations very delicate.
- No.
- What about this Mario Asciano?
Have you had any dealings with him?
- Italian government does not deal with Masnadieri.
- So you do know who he is.
- Our embassy throughout the world
tries to keep as full a record as possible of known Masnadieri.
Asciano appears on several of them.
- What was he saying
about making a register of some Italian thing?
- The Masnada, Hastings,
is a very secret, ancient confederation of gangs
spread across the world from Naples, where it started.
- Like this mafia whatnot I read about?
- No.
It is older than the mafia.
- So what's the connection
between the Masnada and Foscatini?
- I do not know, mon ami.
Perhaps they came into possession of these papers
which we are told so embarrassed the Italian government,
and Asciano was the man deputed to sell them back,
just as the government deputed this so-called Foscatini
to buy them.
- The embassy said they'd never heard of him.
- What else would they say?
- I didn't think you'd have anything to do with me
if you thought I was a servant.
- Oh... - Well, would you?
- Probably not.
But that's my fault.
- It doesn't matter who's fault it is.
- All right, nobody's fault.
The way we're all brought up to think.
- Thank you, Hastings.
- Monsieur Poirot.
- Monsieur Graves.
- Any news?
- Very little, I fear.
Asciano is nowhere to be found.
- Oh.
Oh, well, I'd best be off, Felicity.
Good-bye, Monsieur Poirot.
- Monsieur Graves.
- I...
I should never have left the count alone last night.
I mean, I told you, didn't I, that I didn't trust Asciano.
- But it is not your fault, Monsieur Graves.
- And I just ups and offs to the music hall.
- You weren't to know, Edwin.
- You must dismiss it from your mind.
- Yes.
Well.
Good-bye, Captain Hastings.
- Good-bye, Mr. Graves.
- I have discovered something rather interesting,
Mr. Poirot.
- What is that, Miss Lemon?
- Who was Count Foscatini?
- Comment?
- Well, there isn't any such person.
- What do you mean?
- I looked up Count Foscatini in your Almanach de Gotha,
and there's no such title and never has been,
as far as I could see.
I didn't like to tell Mr. Graves.
He's quite upset enough already.
- You see, Hastings?
In every case of murder,
we spend so much time wondering who is the killer
that we do not consider the identity of the victim.
- There's a Mr. Darida to see you, Mr. Poirot,
from the Italian embassy.
- Show him in, Miss Lemon.
- This way, Mr. Darida.
- Il Primo Segretario told you
that he does not deal with the Masnada, I expect.
Il Primo Segretario does everything by the rulebook.
Asciano came to the embassy this morning,
trying to sell some papers.
- What papers? What was in them?
- I don't know, but I'd like to.
If Asciano gets them back to Italy, we'll never know.
- Is that where he has gone?
- That is the only other place he could sell them.
- Has he left London already?
- He left his house.
He said we could contact him at Jenkins' Hotel
in Bloomsbury.
- Fairly sure he's in his room, sir.
- The men in position around the back?
- Yes, sir.
- Open up! Police!
Come on! Open up!
Please.
Come on, man, put your shoulder into it.
- Doing my best, sir.
- One more!
- Your name Asciano? - Yes.
- I want to ask you a few questions, Mr. Asciano.
- About what?
- Never mind the clever talk.
Where's the money?
- What money?
- I see.
Where were you between 8:00 and 9:00 yesterday evening?
- 'Tween 8:00 and 9:00?
Here.
- Oh, yes?
Well, we have reason to doubt that, Mr. Asciano.
We have reason to believe that you were having dinner
with a Count Foscatini at his flat in Addisland Court.
- I do not know any Count Foscatini.
- Ah.
- And you have never heard perhaps of Addisland Court?
- No, I've never heard of Addisland Court.
- Well, then it's very coincidental
that here's the remains of a piece of paper
that's been burning in your grate
that has the words "Addisland Court"
printed on it.
- Come on!
- Well, that's that.
- On the contrary, mon ami.
It is, by no means, that.
- The case against him seems pretty strong to me.
- Indeed.
Asciano was blackmailing the Italian government.
- Yes.
- And Foscatini is employed by the government
to pay money to retrieve incriminating papers
from Asciano.
- Right.
- So where is the motive for Asciano to kill Foscatini?
- Well...
- And where is the money?
- Well...
- And another thing we must consider
most carefully, Hastings,
is the window in the dining room of Count Foscatini.
- The window? But it was fastened.
Nobody could have gone in or out that way.
I noticed especially.
- Precisement.
- Has Asciano confessed to the murder yet,
Chief Inspector?
- Not yet.
But we're quietly confident, you might say.
- Did he have any large sum of money on him?
- No, but his prints matched the prints on one of the coffee cups
and on one of the port glasses from Foscatini's dining room.
- And the motive of Asciano?
- Eh, well, got a bit of news there, Poirot.
- News?
- Signor Mario Asciano is on our register of the Masnada.
- Go on.
- What do you mean, "Go on?"
You asked about the motive.
Well, there you are.
It's the usual Masnada stuff.
Blackmail, murder.
- What will you do now, Monsieur Graves?
Look for another situation?
- Yes, I shall have to, sir,
and they're not easy to come by these days.
- No, indeed.
Oh, Monsieur Graves.
On the night of the murder of Count Foscatini,
these curtains in the dining room,
they were not drawn.
- Not drawn, sir?
- No.
No, they were open just as they are now.
- But--
But I'm sure I drew them, sir.
Yes, before I announced dinner, I drew them.
Unless the count drew them back himself.
- Why should he do that?
- Well, perhaps he wanted to see something outside.
- Perhaps.
- You know, I don't understand this case at all, Poirot.
- No, it is a puzzle, Hastings.
Hastings, come here for a moment, please.
- What is it? - Look.
I raise my right hand, yes? - Yes.
- Good.
Now tell me what do you see in the mirror.
- What do you mean, "What do I see in the mirror?"
- Just describe to me what you see, Hastings.
- You're lifting your hand. - Good.
Which hand? - Your right hand.
- It does not appear to you that I'm lifting my left?
- No.
- Be my reflection, Hastings.
Now, which hand are you raising as I raise my right?
- I see what you mean.
I never thought about that.
It's really odd, isn't it?
- We have been looking at this case
as if in a mirror, Hastings.
We have seen everything the wrong way around.
- In what way?
- Be so good as to collect the Chief Inspector Japp
and meet me at Addisland Court at 3:00.
- But, Poirot...
- Scusi, Signor Vizzini.
Signor Poirot.
- I'm not used to people calling unexpectedly.
I usually send for them.
- There is one question I have to ask you, Monsieur Vizzini.
- A question?
A glass of wine?
- No.
Merci.
The man who called himself Count Foscatini...
with what was he blackmailing you?
- Foscatini had letters that would ruin me
if their contents became known to certain people.
I sent one of my Masnadieri, Asciano,
to buy back the letters.
Asciano got the letters and then decided to betray me,
and go into business on his own account.
He killed Foscatini
and made off with the letters and the money.
- You have not answered my question.
- The letters contained certain information.
Very well.
They contained proof that I was giving financial support
to several antifascist organizations.
- But, assuredly, that would cause you no harm
in this country.
- My dear Signor Poirot,
several of my business interests
would have been destroyed overnight.
Signor Eliso,
whose motorcars your Captain Hastings so admires,
he is anxious to please Papa Mussolini.
He will close me down without a second thought.
- I can put your mind at rest on that point, Monsieur Vizzini.
The letters, they have been destroyed.
Asciano has burned them, and as for your money,
Asciano does not have it,
and it is not in the apartment of Count Foscatini.
Perhaps there is some hiding place of which you know
where Foscatini--
- Hiding place?
No, no, no.
- There is, however, one point
about which you are totally mistaken.
Asciano did not kill Count Foscatini.
- There's only one place it can be.
- Perhaps.
- When I said that we had been
looking at this case the wrong way around,
it was because I have been forced suddenly
to think about the victim.
And as soon as I did so,
I apprehended that the only way that this case made any sense
to me at all
was that if Foscatini was the blackmailer.
- Are you trying to tell us that Foscatini was a blackmailer too?
- Not "too," Chief Inspector.
Foscatini was the blackmailer.
- What do you mean?
- The crucial point, as I suspected from the start,
is the dinner that came down from the kitchens above
and was served at this table
on the evening of the 6th of May.
Do you remember of what that meal consisted, Hastings?
- Uh, well, uh...
I know there was some soup.
- Flat ten.
Order for two from the a la carte menu
sent down by lift.
Soup Julienne,
filet de sole Normande,
tournedos of beef,
and a rice soufflé.
There was naught wrong with my food, you know.
- And what did we find left on the table?
- Two coffee cups,
both with the remains of black coffee,
a dish of fruit.
Nobody's used their dessert plates there.
And two glasses, both with the remains of port.
- Well done, Hastings.
But, you see, Foscatini, he did not eat any dinner.
- I beg your pardon.
- The report of the post mortem from the pathologist
revealed that the stomach, it was quite empty.
So let us suppose that Asciano made a visit to Addisland Court
to this apartment only the one time.
That would have been the day before the murder.
You'll remember what Monsieur Graves told us.
- I'm here to see Count Foscatini.
- What name shall I say, sir?
- Mario Asciano.
He's expecting me.
- I showed him in, although the Count hadn't said he was coming.
- I'd like to order lunch for two.
Flat ten.
- I know they had lunch because I heard the Count order it.
Signor Asciano seemed to have something in his case
which he was offering the Count.
I'm not really sure, but I think he was demanding money for it.
- But if Asciano didn't come here that night, who did?
Who ate the dinner?
- The question answers itself, does it not, Chief Inspector?
Who told us of the second visit of Asciano?
- Graves, the servant.
- I was suspicious when I saw
that the victim had replaced most carefully
the telephone receiver.
I knew when I saw the curtains,
they were not closed.
- But what have the curtains got to do with it?
- Count Foscatini was already dead, mon ami,
by the time Monsieur Graves ordered the dinner.
- The count told me the same gentleman
would be coming to dinner this evening.
I served them dinner, and after I brought in the port,
the count told me I could have the rest of the evening off.
They went into the study, and I went out.
- There was only one person
who could have killed Count Foscatini:
Monsieur Graves.
What he told us about the second visit was all lies.
In the same way he deceived us about his position,
he deceived us about the events of that night.
And then in order to mislead us,
our Monsieur Graves alters the clock before he smashes it,
and then he had to eat both dinners himself.
Of course he did not think to close the curtains.
- But if he ate both the dinners,
how come Asciano's fingerprints were on
the glass and coffee cup?
- He kept them back from when Asciano really came
to lunch on the previous day.
- But why would he want to kill his master?
- For the cash his master got from Asciano, that's why.
He'll have enough money to go anywhere he wants.
Let's hope we're not too late.
Sergeant Beddoes,
get an immediate watch put on all ports for one Edwin Graves.
Yes, that's right; the servant.
And aerodromes.
"Wanted for the murder of Count Foscatini."
- Wait a minute.
He's got his boat. - Boat? Where?
- Oh, wait a minute.
Oh!
Poirot, you remember the photograph.
Oh, very trim.
Where was it?
Fantasia Felice.
Where on Earth did he keep it?
Chichester! - What?
- That's what it said.
Fantasia Felice, Chichester.
- This must be where it is hidden.
- I hope you're right about this, Captain Hastings.
- And so do I.
- I know it was Chichester.
- We've told the local police.
They'll be standing by.
- I can't see anyone.
- I've told 'em to stay well hidden.
- That's definitely the boat.
And there's an Eliso-Freccia parked right next to it.
Look.
- 'Allo.
Graves' fancy woman.
- Well, she's heading for the boat.
- Poor Miss Lemon.
- Oh, my Lord.
I'd forgotten about Miss Lemon.
- Now what?
- Better go on board.
- You tell me now.
Where is my money?
Hey!
- All right, all right.
What's going on?
- All we have to find now is the money.
- And Graves.
Hey!
That's him!
Stop him! Stop him!
- Whoa-- oh!
- Hey, watch out!
- Hold it!
Come on! Get after him!
- You swine!
- That's for Miss Lemon.
- Come on. Give us your hand.
- Come on, you!
- Out you come!
- Edwin Graves, I'm arresting you on a charge of murder.
- Murder?
He was nothing but a bloody blackmailer.
- Take him away.
- Monsieur Poirot.
- Sir!
- Hey!
It's my money!
- No, it's evidence.
Take Mrs. Graves to the car.
- I'm dreadfully sorry about your car,
Mr. Vizzini.
- My car?
No...
It's your car.
- My car?
- I was on my way to deliver it when...
- If Vizzini thinks I'm paying him for that wreck,
I'll tell the bank to stop payment.
- So it wasn't Graves' boat at all.
- No, Chief Inspector.
It was another piece of self-aggrandizement
from Monsieur Graves.
No, it was not his.
It belonged to his master.
- The Fantasia Felice.
- No, Hastings; The Fantasia Felice,
"the happy dream."
- The happy dream.
- I shall not forgive Monsieur Graves, Hastings.
He, a married man,
in the cold blood, used pauvres Miss Lemon
to gain access to Poirot
and to plant into our minds a story ridiculous
of his master working for the Italian government.
- I'll talk to Miss Lemon if you like.
- No, thank you, Hastings.
It is the duty of Poirot.
- Yes, Mr. Poirot?
- Miss Lemon, Edwin has been arrested.
- Edwin?
- Yes, Monsieur Graves.
- Good. It's about time.
- Miss Lemon?
- Do you know what he was going to do?
- No.
- He was going to have to move out of Count Foscatini's flat,
so he was going to have the Count's cat destroyed.
Couldn't be bothered to find a home for it.