♪♪ (music playing)
Lucy...
Hello, darling!
The Lord is my Shepperd, and I shall not fear.
In green pastures He leads me,
beside still waters...
♪♪ (music playing)
FIVE LITTLE PIGS Based on Agatha Christie's novel
Merci.
- Santé. - Santé.
Alors,
Mademoiselle Lemarchant... - For starters, Monsieur Poirot,
that is not my name.
Pardon, but I understood it was with Mademoiselle Lemarchant
that I was to meet. - That was the name I was given as a child.
My real name is Crale, Lucy Crale.
- Crale! Now, I seem to remember... - My father was Amyas Crale,
the artist, and my mother was...
- Caroline. - Caroline... Crale.
- That's right. - Yes, yes...
A story most tragic.
- But it was a long time ago, yes? - Fourteen years.
14 years?
You know, I saw a picture that your father painted...
... in the Tate.
- "Girl In The Shadow" . - That was the one.
- It is a composition most tracking. - Yes, he was a great painter.
- His reputation is, yes, considerable. - I'm not here to discuss his art, Mr Poirot.
I'm here because I want you to investigate his murder.
I was 7 at the time. Too young, really, to know anything about it.
We lived in Devon, in a house called Alderbury.
My parents were very much in love and, in many ways,
it was an idyllic childhood.
But then, one day, I was suddenly taken from my home
and sent to relatives, in Canada.
Then finally, when I turned 21, they were obliged to tell me the truth.
For one thing, I came into my own money.
And then, you see, there's the letter...
- The letter? - That my mother wrote me
just before she died.
That was the first I knew that my mother was hanged for killing my father.
- What did she write? - Quite simply that she didn't do it.
She is innocent, and I could always be sure of that.
That is what I want you to prove.
- But why Hercule Poirot, Mademoiselle? - I've heard about you, the things you've done,
the way you work. The psychology is your "forte", n'est-ce pas?
Oui, c'est vrai. My success it is found in psychology, or...
... the " why" of human behavior. It is this that I use.
Tout de même, Mademoiselle, it is so long since it happened.
Secrets and lies, Monsieur.
The past keeps pulling me back, it won't let me be.
And until these ghosts are laid to rest,
I can't move on.
Bon,
I am honored by your faith in me.
But...
I can not, you understand, accept the insurance about the innocence of your mother?
- And if she was guillty, what then? - I have to know the truth, Monsieur.
And if the truth is not what you wish to hear?
I have to know.
... taken for a place of execution,
where you'll be hanged by the neck, until death.
Not one of my greatest successes, I have to say.
- The defence was suicide, yes? - Didn't get on too well, I'm affraid.
Amyas Crale simply wasn't that kind of chap.
Wine, women, beer... the lusts of the flesh.
The idea of his killing himself out of conscience...
Well, frankly, I don't think he had one.
So, in your opinion, Sir Montague, Caroline Crale, she was guilty?
I rather thought that we were taking that for granted.
- Did she ever admit as much? - Monsieur Poirot, she didn't need to.
I knew we had lost as soon as she stepped into this box.
She certainly had a motive.
Amyas Crale was always mixed up with some woman around him,
but this was rather different.
A girl.: Elsa Greer. Just turned 18.
Quite a looker, I might say. She knew what she wanted,
and that was Amyas Crale. She got him to paint her
he ended up falling for her.
Caroline Crale was overheard to say this...
... if he didn't give her up, she'd kill him.
What was the evidence against her?
She stole some poison to the neighbor who dabbled in herbs and alike,
and hid it in a scent bottle, and when the police found it
in her room, she claimed she intended to kill herself.
What she couldn't explain was why the bottle was empty
and only her fingerprints were on it.
We contempted, of course, that Amyas Crale had used it to kill himself,
but, if he had, his fingerprints would be on it as well.
And how did she give it to him, this poison?
She used a pipette to spike his beer.
Pardon, Monsieur. "Spike"?
Uh- tampered. She took him a bottle while he was painting.
The police found the pipette crashed near the scene of the crime.
The prosecution had a field day.
So,
she put the conium into the bottle before taking it to him?
No, there was no conium in the bottle at all, only in the glass.
I see!
- Was that you beeing inscrutable, Mr Poirot? - Non, non. Pardon.
But were there, I'd believe, other people present, at the time?
Oh, yes, there were. Let me think. Five, if memory serves.
Philip Blake, a stock broker, one of Crale's best friends;
Meredith, his older brother.
He lives across the estuary, from the house where the murder took place ;
Elsa Greer, of course, currently Lady Dittisham,
though now she spends most of her time
in the gossip columns in the divorce Courts;
and the governess, Miss... Wilson? Williams! That's it!
Very capable, but not exactly a bottle of laughs.
Then, of course, there was Angela, Caroline's half-sister.
Oh, she'd been off back to school, by the time of the trial. Poor thing.
- She had perhaps a problem? - There was a rather unfortunate incident,
when she was a toddler.
Caroline Crale, as a young girl, threw a bit of a tantrum.
I did argue that she was not in her sain mind, but...
Fascinanting creature! I'll never forget her, you know?
She had a quality one couldn't help but admire.
Somehow, she was, above it all.
What people would do, in the name of love!
It makes fools of us all, n'est-ce pas?
Eh bien, I thank you, Sir Montague. You have been most helpful.
Pleasure meeting you, Poirot.
Tell to me, if you please... If, as her daughter hopes,
Caroline Crale did not kill her husband... - But she did, old boy. Take my word for it.
... but then it makes the logic that one of these 5 people must have done it.
There's no reason why any of them should.
No, but all the same, I think I shall pay each of them a visit.
And hear five different versions of the same event?
- Thank you, Hollinghurst. - A pleasure, mr. Blake.
A fairly good aid, old Hollinghurst, even though he does bat for the other side.
Tally-ho!
Tally-ho...
Well, who'd have thought it? Raising a glass with the famous Hercule Porrow.
Poirot, Monsieur. Hercule Poirot.
Poirot, Porrow... Could never get my tongue around French.
Let's keep the old entente cordiale, eh?
But I am Belgium, Monsieur, not French.
So, what can I do for you?
It is the Crale case, Monsieur. It is that which I wish to discuss with you.
What the hell for?
Because I have accepted the commission Monsieur to review the case.
- From whom? - Lucy Crale.
- Lucy Crale? - Oui, Monsieur.
Nothing to discuss.
Five minutes of your time, Mr Blake, it is all that I ask.
What the hell is she poking her nose in, now?
- Because she wishes to know the truth. - Everyone knows the truth!
But all she wishes is to access for herself the facts.
- It's over! Dead, buried. - As are her parents, Monsieur.
Amyas Crale was the best friend a chap could have.
We knew each other since we're children. We all: myself, my brother, Caroline.
Neighbors, you see. By the seaside, in Devon.
Amyas was a great play. And all that talent, that...
... lust for life, wiped out because of her.
You did not like her?
Rotten... through and through. Amyas could never see it.
But he was also something of a rotten, was he not?
That's what she'd have you believe.
Oh, she liked playing the injured part, and did it very well,
but.... underneath it all, she was cold and calculating.
Had a devil of a temper!
Tried to kill her baby sister, for God's sake!
- Is it true? - Damn right.
Chucked a paperweight at her and blinded the little blight in one eye.
Disfigured for life.
Do you know the reason for this fit of temper?
Sibling's jealousy, simple as that.
And were jealously that made her kill Amyas.
I tell you, that woman was trouble.
Even as a girl... the way she played us boys along.
Gave us all the one say, but finally settled on Amyas.
Not surprisingly.
He was in line to inherit Alderbury and showing talent as an artist.
A rich genius, what could be better?
It is surprising, is it not, how soon in life the dice is cast?
Yes, I suppose it is.
Anyway, after the marriage, I kept my distance,
for a while, at least. But I soon succumbed to temptation.
Temptation, Monsieur?
Alderbury.
A place I couldn't resist.
I spent some of the happiest times of my life in that house.
That September, like the Summers of childhood,
I was hoping for a peaceful few weeks.
- Uncle Phil! - But I should've known better.
- Good morning, mr. Blake. - Good morning, mrs. Spriggs.
- It's good to see you again. - Good to see you.
- Amyas, please! - They've been at it for hours.
- Hello, uncle Phil. - Hello!
My, you grown! Angela's looking after you, is she?
- No? No? - Com'on, Lucy!
- Catch me if you can! - Give her a chance.
Wait for me, Angela.
- Why won't you listen to me, Amyas? - Caroline, for God's sake!
- That's right, run away like ya always do. - There goes the jardinere.
There was something up in the atmosphere...
But this time, you could cut it with a knife.
And I soon saw why.
Amyas, old chap! How the hell are ya?
Lovely, isn't she?
Sometimes I wish I'd never met her.
Thank God you turned up.
Living in a house full of women is enough to send any men out to his chump.
- Philip, how lovely to see you! - Hello, Caroline.
Just in time for lunch. Will Elsie be joining us?
- Elsa. - Amyas is doing her portrait.
Skittish little thing. She should watch all that sun, you know?
Can be very ageing.
- Things are a bit rocky at the moment. - Is it serious, Elsa and you?
- It'll be a damn good painting. - That's not what I asked.
You know me, Phil. I can't help myself.
Then things got worse.
Amyas and Caroline's half sister, Angela,
had been beckoning all morning.
Would you stop that please, Angela?
- What? - Slurping.
- I'm not slurping. - Yes, you are.
Amyas...
I thought I might try that other kimono, the canary yellow.
It could be rather stunning against that water, don't you think?
Canary! How lovely.
Of course on some people it might look a little... how shall I put it?
Don't worry, Caroline. I'm young enough to carry it on.
We're not changing anything. For God--! Did you hear that?
Looks like the feeding hour in the monkey house!
Why don't you just leave me alone?!
- I hadn't seen this before. - It's by Wolgemut Dahl,
a young Norwegian. Extraordinary, don't you think? Everyone's talking about him.
Got a sense of humor, I'll give him that.
Don't you agree, Miss Williams?
- Beech wood, isn't it? - Thank you, mrs. Spriggs.
This room would be so lovely if it weren't so clutched.
When I'm living here, I'll throw out all the rubbish,
which is, let's face it, is pratically everything.
And I've always thought copper coloured curtains would be simply divine.
Don't you think they look rather lovely in the setting sun?
- Are you thinking of buying any, Elsa? - That won't be necessary.
- You seem to have lost me, my dear. - All this pretense,
it's so dishonest.
Amyas and I love each other and we're going to be married,
so I shall be moving in. - As I suspected, my dear,
you're completely insane.
That bloody bisque gave me a frightful indigestion.
Ask mrs. Spriggs, she'll give you bicarbonate of soda.
Good thinking.
By the way, Elsa says you want to marry her.
Is this true?
- Is it true? - It's only fair that she should know.
Amyas, is it true?
Then, it is.
If you'll excuse me, I'll just...
You know, looking back,
I wouldn't be surprised if she had made up her mind to kill him then.
Amyas, do tide yourself up. We're going up to Meredith for tea, remember?
- Ah, yes, I'd forgotten. - Philip,
you should do some fishing while you're here. The sea's probably swarming with mackerel.
So, we all trooped off to Merri's.
Weren't very merry that afternoon...
Amyas can't do this!
Looks like he's going to.
He can't just leave his wife and child for some slip of a girl.
She's too young to know what she's doing.
She knows all right.
Poor old Merri, all that sensitivity no use at all.
Hard to believe we come from the same stable.
After tea, he took us to his lab.
Conium. I've never heard of this.
It's distilled from the flowers of the spotted hemlock.
Highly poisonous, but can be efficacious in the treatment...
Sorry.
Then he had the treat to read us
some classical about the whole death of Plato or Socrates,
or someting whatnot.
"The man who administered the poison pinched his foot,
"and asked if he felt. Socrates said no.
"Then he did the same to his legs,
"and gradually, moving up and led us this way, and let us see
"that he was cold and numb.
"He said that, when it reached the heart,
Sócrates would be gone."
Back at HQ, that evening,
Amyas and Angela had a God-allMighty row about someting,
but nothing out of the ordinary.
I even think she might have thrown something at thim.
- Can you remember what? - Good Lord, no.
- It was 14 years ago! - But yes, of course.
You are being most helpful, Monsieur Blake.
The next morning, when I came downstairs,
I heard Amyas and Caroline in the library.
I don't know where they the energy from.
...I swear to God!
You and your women! Someday I'll kill you, Amyas.
- Don't be idiot. - I swear to God I will!
Good morning.
- Lovely day! - I want to get on.
- I'll go change. - Don't be long. Bloody women!
And off he went, back to his painting while I went back inside.
- Good morning. - It's too cruel, too cruel.
She hardly noticed me.
Now, of course, I know why.
Hello?
What the hell's the matter?
I heard these noises from the laboratory...
... so, I went to have a look and the conium bottle
was not only out of place, but was practically empty.
And I swear to you, Phil, that yesterday it was full.
- Are you sure? - Of course I'm sure!
I'm very careful about these things.
And I knew at once it must have been Caroline.
I should've gone straight to Amyas and warned him.
That's absurd. Caroline wouldn't dream of such a thing.
- Then, what's your explanation ? - ..being too harsh with her.
- For God's sake! - We'll discuss after lunch.
I'll see to her packing...
- What are you two up to ? - We were just...
- What a surprise! - Yes...
We're just having a little chat about Angela and school.
I'm not sure at all it is the right thing.
Sorry about that.
- Hello everybody! - I'd kill for a cold beer.
I'll send some down.
I think we all could do with one.
And that's when it happened.
- Why don't I take it? - Oh, no! Enjoy the sun.
At the time, I reasoned that it might be jealousy,
That she couldn't stand the thought of the two of them being alone together.
I should've realized, but, instead I sat and watched.
I had the chance to save him, and I did nothing.
You reproach yourself unduly, Monsieur Blake.
Amyas didn't join us for lunch,
and Caroline took him cofee.
so calm and collected, and yet,
she must have known by then he'd be dead.
Miss Williams went with her, and then Meredith...
... wandered off, but it wasn't long before we saw him again.
Get a doctor! Quick!
What's wrong?
- It's Amyas... - What?
I'm afraid he's dead.
Amyas!
Phone a doctor. I'll take care of her.
She was like an Avenging Fury. I had never seen anything like it.
You killed him! You killed you ! My Amyas!
- You've killed my dearest friend! - No!
- He did it to himself. - Tell that to the police.
They didn't believe her either.
Eh bien, Monsieur Blake,
The truth, it has the habit of revealing itself.
Monsieur Poirot...
- Lady Dittisham... - Let's get on with it, shall we?
I said all I had to say about the Crale Case many years ago.
But I found your letter rather intriguing.
How lucky you are curiosity took the better of me.
Indeed I am, milady.
It must be very painful for you to recall.
Painful? No.
My father was a manhandled who worked his way up and made a Mint.
You can't do that with thin skin in eye, I'm my father's daughter.
I am not as sensitive as you might think.
Then that makes my task a little easier.
One so often jumps to the wrong conclusion.
At the trial, for example,
people thought what a terrible ordeal it must have been for me:
the brutish questions, the ghastly jornalists,
the mindless screaming crowd.
But the english are a people very moral, n'est-ce pas?
That's one way of looking at it.
Alors, if you did not find the trial an ordeal,
how do you find it? - I enjoyed it.
You see, I got exactly what I wanted.
And what was that?
Caroline Crale at the end of a rope.
Coffee?
Thank you, Tipping.
You said in your letter that Mademoiselle...
- Lemarchant. - That's right.
Had commissioned you. I don't believe I know her.
She is the daughter of Amyas and Caroline Crale.
Oh, yes! Of course. There was a child.
Oh, dear! Does she think it was my fault?
It is a possible interpretation, oui.
- How very stupid. Cream? - Non, non. Merci.
So, you take no responsability?
Why should I? I loved him, and I would've made him happy.
And that woman killed him to stop that from happening.
You have to understand, Amyas Crale did not seduce an innocent young girl.
It wasn't like that at all.
Elsa Greer.
As soon as I laid eyes on him, I knew I had to have him.
- I want you to paint me. - I don't do portraits.
I'm rather rich, you know? I can afford to pay.
And what makes you think I'd want to paint you?
But you do, don't you? And I always get what I want.
So, when do we start?
If I paint you, you realise I'll make love to you?
I'd have thought that went without saying.
So, he invited me down to their house, quite bold of him, really.
But Caroline didn't seem to mind.
She didn't like me, but then, why should she?
And we never said anything that she couldn't have overheard.
But we were more than aware of what was going on.
What is it?
I think you ought to go back to London.
But the picture... we've hardly started.
I can't paint you, Elsa.
- Why? - You know why.
So, I left. I didn't write, or telephone.
And after 10 days...
He couldn't keep away. We were together for two weeks
and soon we realised that we had to be together.
- Always. - I want you to come back to Alderbury.
I've decided to finish the painting.
- What about Caroline? - What about her?
- Shouldn't you tell her? - What on earth for?
She's bound to find out, sooner or later.
We'll get the picture finished first.
But you will tell her, won't you?
- Yes. - Promise?
Promise.
Do you she'll make a terrible fuss?
She always makes a fuss.
She loves me.
Then she should put your happiness first.
He painted in a kind of frenzy. I'd never seen like that before.
- Keep still, for God's sake! - I was convinced we should tell her,
but Amyas wouldn't hear of it. Then, one day, I... lost my patience.
Amyas and I love each other and we are going to be married.
So I shall be moving in.
Amyas was furious
but he had to admit what I said was true.
And I still think I was right. Honesty is, after all the best policy, don't you agree Mr Poirot?
Desirable, certainly, but not always advisable.
We believe in plain speaking, where I come from.
I'm very pleased to hear it, Madame.
But Caroline had a devious way about her.
When we went to Meredith for tea, that afternoon,
she behaved as if nothing had happened.
I even began to think she was taking it rather well.
How wrong I was!
If you please to tell me, Lady Dittisham,
in plain speaking,
if, when you were all assembled in the laboratory of Monsieur Blake,
you observed Caroline Crale take the conium. - No, I did not.
I seem to remember chatting with Meredith in the doorway,
so I wouldn't have been able to see a thing. - Caroline...
Sorry, Merri. It's such a fascinanting collection...
But of course she did take it, and we all know why.
Perhaps not everyone is as sure as you.
I actually heard her threatening him.
You and your women! Someday I'll kill you, Amyas.
- Don't be an idiot. - I swear to God I'll kill you.
You can threaten all you like, but get this,
I'm going to marry Elsa and nothing is going to stop me.
- I'll kill you rather than let you go. - Morning.
For God's sake!
- Lovely day! - I want to get on.
- I'll go change. - Don't be long.
Which I did. Then, I went to join him and I poured him a beer.
She's making a terrible song and dance.
Told you she would.
- To my Mona Lisa. - My darling Amyas.
- God, it's warm! - I can get you a cold one.
On that seat. Sit down, now!
He painted as if his life depended on it.
Dear Amyas...
I loved him so much...
It happened shortly after that. I popped up to the house to fetch a shawl,
and, when I came back, she was there.
Sorry about that.
Hello everybody!
- I'd kill for a cold beer. - I'll send some down.
She must have known then what she meant to do.
She brought it back about 10 minutos later.
Tastes foul!
Everything tastes foul, today.
Too much bile, my dear. It'll choke you, one of these days.
I didn't suspect a thing. About 40 minutes later,
he complained about stiffness and pains. - Bloody rheumatism!
Then, the bell sounded for lunch and Meredith came to fetch me.
Amyas decided to skip lunch, as he often did.
Old grumpy doesn't want any lunch.
So we left him...
... to die alone.
Amyas! Amyas!
And I just knew it was Caroline.
How could she do that? How could she?
It is a story most...
... tragique, n'est-ce pas?
Hanging was too good for her.
Monsieur Blake...
Little Lucy...
... a grown woman. One can hardly believe it.
- Time passes swiftly, does it not? - Poor child.
Such a terrible shock. How much better to let it all be.
The whole point, you see, is that Amyas Crale was an artist,
and his art was his passion.
When he painted, he was like a man-- possessed.
He meant to finish that portrait, whatever the cost.
Elsa was terrifically enthusiastic about the painting, and Caroline...
- Yes? - I had always been...
... very fond of her.
Come on, Merri, come on!
There was a time when I'd hoped to marry her,
but that was soon nipped in the bud.
Still I remained, if I may say so,
devoted to her service.
Dear God!
When I think of what they did to her! Strung up like an animal!
Such a gentle creature...
I remember a conversation we had shortly after it all began.
Do you think he really cares for her?
Well, he's very committed to the painting.
- He's in love with her, isn't he? - A little, perhaps.
A great deal, I think.
There's only one person he reallly cares for, I think that's you.
These infatuations, they come and they go.
That's what I used to think.
But this time I've a feeling it's serious.
- She's just a girl. - That's the trouble.
The way she looks at him!
So intense!
I'm affraid, Meredith.
It's nothing.
I hope you're right. But I can't help feeling
I'd like to take a hatchet to her.
- A hatchet? - It's a small ax.
I know what a hatchet is. I was commenting rather on her remark.
- It was merely to make her point. - She made her point a little more forcibly,
forcibly, did she not? With her baby sister Angela,
- The paperweight. - Oui.
It was a moment of sibling's jealousy for which she never forgave herself.
And disfigured a girl for life.
That was the problem. It was a constant reminder,
and she tried desperatly to make amends,
which, in turn, made Amyas very jealous.
You knew him for many years, n'est-ce pas?
Since boyhood.
But he was always more Philip's friend than mine.
You did not like him?
I think his conduct was frankly disgraceful.
Don't you understand?
This painting is the best thing I've done and I'm determined to see it through.
No. I think it's a disgrace...
... the way you treat Caroline. The way you've always treated her.
What about Lucy, for Heaven's sake? You can't just throw it all away.
You're a good man, Merri, but such a old softy.
Wait til the picture is finished then you'll see I was right.
That grin he gave me...
I'll never forget Caroline, that afternoon.
She made such an effort, and yet, behind it all...
Is there anything the matter, my dear?
Everything. It's gone.
Finished.
When she said, at the trial, that she took the poison to kill herself,
I swear she was speaking the truth.
But why did you take your guests into the laboratory?
- Someone must have sugested it. - Caroline Crale, perhaps?
Well, I often took guests into my laboratory. It wasn't unusual.
- This is valerian. - The one that cats like.
Yes, they can't get enough of it. It can be used as a sleeping draft.
Elsa, You should have a sniff.
I've amount pleasure from my brews,
getting the plants at night, macerating and all the rest of it..
It's astonishing how a simple decoction can make wonders.
Conium. I've never heard of this.
It's distilled from the flowers of the spotted hemlock.
- Isn't that what Socrates took? - That's right.
You know, there's the most moving description of his death on Plato's "Fédon".
I can read it to you if you'd like.
Sorry. Sorry, it must be the heat.
"The man who administered the poison pinched his foot,
"and asked if he felt anything. Socrates said no.
"Then, he did the same to his legs,
"gradually moving upwards, showing us this way and letting us
"see that he was getting cold and numb.
"He said that when it reached the heart,
Socrates would be gone."
And that is how Amyas met his fate...
... the very next day.
When did Madame Crale take the conium from the bottle?
Just before she came into the study area...
I think Philip e a Angela left first,
followed by Amyas. I was in the doorway, waiting to lock up,
having a word with Elsa. I supose that's when she took it.
- Caroline. - Oh sorry, Merri.
Such a fascinating collection...
Phil? It's Meredith. Something terrible's happened.
He immediately suspected Caroline.
Quite unfairly, in my opinion.
Who else could have done it? It must have been Caroline.
As we approached the water garden, we overheard Amyas and Caroline
having a rather heated discussion,
I think about Angela being packed off to school.
It's such a shameful behaviour!
I was in such a state I didn't pay it much atention.
It's settled. I'll see to her packing.
Philip blamed himself for not acting sooner,
but how on earth could anyone have assumed,
at that point, that someone had murder in mind?
I needed time to think.
So, just before lunch, I sat above the water garden
where Amyas was painting Elsa.
... and I can sit like like a Roman Emperess in the Coliseum.
So radiant,
full of life,
more alive than any person I have ever known.
- Keep still! - The blind confidence of youth.
- Bloody rheumatism! - Poor thing!
Old grumpy doesn't want any lunch.
The problem was, he often looked like that when he was working,
so I didn't think anything of it.
- Elsa... - I could eat a horse.
You know, I do so wish...
What?
Well, that you and Amyas would stop it. Just stop it.
He has a wife and child. His place is with them.
Oh, Meredith... (laughs)
After lunch, they had coffee on the terrace.
Caroline took a cup down to Amyas, and Miss Williams accompanied her.
I followed shortly afterwards, I think to...
... walk off my lunch. - Mr. Blake!
- What's wrong?
- A terrible thing! - What on earth is it?
Mr. Crale... He's dead.
Would you be so kind as to call a doctor?
My God!
(sound of running and panting)
Get a doctor! Quick!
- What? - It's Amyas.
- What? - I'm affraid he's dead.
Amyas!
Poor child.
She just just couldn't believe that life could play so cruel a trick.
Caroline stood there, quite calmly, and said he must've done it to himself.
So, you are perfectly convinced, Monsieur, that she was guilty?
She was provoked, in the extreme.
- But you do not believe it was suicide? - Caroline did it, I'm sure of it.
And anyway,
what if she didn't...
Hercule Poirot, Mademoiselle.
Lucy Crale...
She must have been very young When you last saw her.
Seven and a half.
Charming.
A little too quiet. Lived in a world of her own.
If you tell to me, please, Mademoiselle,
her parents, they were most devoted, yes?
One does occasionally find, Monsieur Poirot,
a husband and wife so wrapped up in each other
that the child hardly seems to impinge.
So, more like lovers than husband and wife?
If that's how you wish to put it.
- Did you like Madame Crale? - Yes, I was very fond of her.
And your pupil?
Angela was a most interesting if difficult girl.
I cherish the belief that I've played a modest part in her success.
Have you read her book of the tombs in the Fayum?
- Sadly, non. - It's compelling stuff. Read it.
I guess. Yes, I shall...
You must have been upset when she was sent away to school.
No, no, not at all.
To her, home life was hardly what would turn "ideal" .
Caroline indulged her, Amyas got jealous,
he and Angela would fight, and she'd end up playing some spiteful trick.
And though, of course, far greater actions prevailed.
You mean Elsa Greer?
Exactly.
What was your opinion of her?
She was totally unprincipaled.
And also very much in love. His death must have been for her a shock most terrible.
- And it was entirely her fault. - Mademoiselle Greer?
The way she carried on. She even had the insolence
to suggest they were going to marry.
- It's only fair that she should know. - Amyas, is it true?
Then, it is.
The look she gave him! Magnificent!
And then she walked out, head held high,
her grace and dignity unsolid.
- Was she aware of how much you admired her? - I believe...
I hope that... I adequately expressed my...
... my support for her.
- Mrs. Crale... - Not now, Miss Williams.
- I just meant to tell... - Another time, please.
Yes, of course. I'm sorry.
- I think you're wonderful. - Oh, but you don't know...
And then, Mademoiselle?
And then, they all went to tea at Meredith Blake's.
And that evening, after dinner, the usual arguments began
about Angela and school.
Now, you listen! The fees are payd for and the uniform's bought,
case closed! - I'm not going!
It's a lovely school, darling. It's right in the middle of the Downs.
I'm sure that you'll make lots of nice friends.
I don't want any friends.
- You won't get any, if you carry on like this. - Why do you want to get rid of me?
Nobody wants to get rid of you. You know we all love you.
He doesn't! He won't care if he doesn't see me again.
Right! All this screaming like a fishwife...
- You know all about them! - Now, look here, girlie...
- I wish you were dead! - Angela!
I followed Angela to her room and reprimanded her sharply.
The next morning was so beautiful
that I fondly thought it might restore some peace to our lives.
Little did I know it was the harbinger of murder.
Angela!
Angela had yet again disappeared, I thought for a swim,
but there were no signs of her. So, I returned to the house.
Mrs Crale was about to serve some beer before lunch, so I offered to help her.
We went to the cellar, which was used to cold storage.
As we arrived, we found Angela, behaving in a most suspicious manner.
- What on earth are you doing with that? - I was just...
I hope you weren't thinking of drinking it.
I'll take, if you don't mind.
Would you mind serving the others? I'll pop this down to Amyas.
And all this time Mlle. Greer was sitting for Monsieur Crale?
Yes.
- Oh, he got what he deserved. - He acted very badly, oui, c'est vrai.
But he was...
- A great artiste, n'est-ce pas? - Great? Couldn't even draw.
His perspective was terrible, The anathomy was all over the place...
I know what I'm talking about. I studied art, as a girl, in Florence.
Tell me, Mademoiselle,
you were with Madame Crale when she discovered the body, yes?
No, not exactly.
We went down from the house together, after lunch.
She was taking Mr. Crale some coffee,
and I was going to the beach to look for Angela's jersey.
Amyas? Amyas!
Mrs. Crale?
It's Amyas.
He's dead.
- Mr. Blake! Mr. Blake! - What's wrong?
I bumped into Meredith Blake, told him the terrible news,
and asked him to telephone the doctor.
I was most concerned about Mrs. Crale,
I didn't want her to be left alone.
Did you get an impression about what Madame Crale was thinking at the time?
It was impossible to tell. She was stunned.
What view did she adopt oficially as to his death?
Suicide.
- Even in private, to you? - She had no doubt whatsoever.
And what did you say to her?
- Is that chair uncomfortable, Mlle.? - It's perfectly comfortable, thank you.
- Tou were about to tell me... - I-I- I think I said,
"Cnly, Mrs. Crale, it must have been suicide" .
- Did you believe that? - No, I did not.
But understand this: I was entirely on her side.
- So you'd have liked to see her acquited? - But of course I would.
I woman of honor, of dignity, hanged like a carcass in a butchershop!
Poor Lucy! Having to be confronted by all of this!
Still, it is always better to face the truth.
But there's more to it than that. She wants to prove her mother to be innocent.
Then, her wish will not be granted.
Before she was hanged, Caroline Crale wrote to her daughter a letter
in which she solemny swears her inocence.
It would perhaps have been better...
... to tell her daughter not to judge.
- You seem very sure of her guilt. - It's hard to believe otherwise.
- And yet you profess to have loved her. - I did love her.
I did.
If that is all...
Yes, yes, of course.
Thank you very much for your time, Mademoiselle. You have been most helpful.
I know that she was guilty, Monsieur.
- Without a shadow of doubt. - May I ask how?
After bumping into Meredith Blake
and informing him of Mr. Crale's death, I returned to the water garden.
Mrs. Crale was not in command of herself , as I implied.
It was the fear in her face that told me the truth.
That's when I knew she had poisoned her husband.
And I, for one, do not blame her.
She never knew what I'd seen, and I never told her.
In fact, I never told anybody.
During the trial, I was never asked a question
to which I returned an untrue answer,
but I was guilty of witholding certain facts.
And I do not repent of that, Monsieur Poirot.
I would do so again.
... was in fact such a corrupt and venal as the society of today.
Since then, there have been other other key excavations,
but none as remarkable as Chagar Bazar. Thank you.
Thank you so much for coming.
Thank you. Thank you.
Hercule Poirot, Mademoiselle.
The Chagar Bazar digging was quite simply extraordinary.
Did my account of it in the "National Geographic"?
- Sadly no. I have not yet... - Fairly definitive,
if I may say so myself.
Little Lucy... I'd so like to see her.
- You have not kept in contact? - No, not nearly as much as I should've.
I think it's admirable that she wants to clean her mother's name.
- Then, you approve it? - Of course.
Caroline didn't do it. I've always known that.
You surprise me, Mademoiselle.
- Everyone else with whom I have spoken... - I know, I know.
The circunstancial evidence were overwhelming,
that's frankly why I never tempted anything myself.
I knew my sister extremely well
She quite simply couldn't have killed anyone.
The human nature has the infinite capacity to surprise .
- Not in this instance. - How can you be so certain?
Because I am.
But I'm affraid, Mademoiselle, that would not stand up in court.
That's why I was never called to give word in evidence.
- And if you had been...? - This is why I know.
But for many, that would prove the exact opposite.
As they claimed at the trial, but this was a moment's rage
haunted her for the rest of her life. She never forgave herself,
as a result, she was constantly on her guard.
I don't say she was meek or timid, quite the opposite,
but murder? Never! Never!
It was an idillic summer in so many ways...
... what I can remember of it.
Oh, come on, Lucy, do shoot me! That's all the point.
If only that woman didn't come into our lives...
All this pretense,
it's do dishonest.
Amyas and I love each other and we're going to be married,
so I should be moving in.
Then, when Amyas came out...
Why did Elsa say she's going to marry you?
- And how did you hear that? - The window's open.
It's damned rude eavesdropping.
- But why did she say it? - It was a joke.
- It's not very funny to me. - Enough, all right?!
Come on. Come on.
And then, on our way to tea at Meredith's, I confronted Caroline.
- Is it true? - What, darling?
Is Elsa going to marry Amyas?
Only after I'm dead.
The rest of the day is blur.
Kinda remember Meredith reading rather beautiful about Socrates...
" ... he said when it reached the heart, Socrates would be gone."
... and then Amyas and I having a real humdinger after dinner.
Now look here, girlie!
I think I threw something at him.
And the next day, the day it happened,
again it's all very vague, up until the point Merry came panting down the path.
I kept saying to myself, "Amyas is dead" .
But it didn't seem real.
Then the doctor came, the police came, they brought him to the house.
I want you to go to grandma's, with Lucy.
No, no. I don't want to go.
- I want to stay with you. - I know, my darling,
but it's best that you do. It'll easier that way, believe me.
No, please, I don't want to leave you.
For me, my darling, do it for me.
And you must try not to think about it.
There's nothing to worry about,
I promise.
And that was the last time I ever saw her.
The end of Summer...
... was the end of childhood.
A few days later she was arrested.
I was sent to school, in Germany,
Lucy was sent to relatives, in Canada.
Just before she was hanged, she wrote me a letter. I've never shown it to anyone.
I think you should read it.
Merci, Mademoiselle.
"My darling Angela,
"I want you to know that it is all alright.
"I've never lied to you, and I don't now when I say that I'm happy,
that I feel a peace that I've never known before."
It's remarkable.
She was a remarkable person, and innocent.
- But the letter does not say it explicitly. - Because it didn't to say it.
Then, how do you think Amyas Crale died?
Suicide.
- But is that not out of character? - As you said before,
human nature has an infinite capacity to surprise.
Then, you can see no other explanation?
- You mean, someone else might have killed him? - Oui.
I think it unlikely.
But if, for one second, we consider the possibility, what then...
I would say Philip Blake might be your man.
Now, that interests me very much, mademoiselle. May I ask why?
I cannot see what possible motive he could have.
He was the best friend of Amyas Crale, n'est-ce pas?
Or were the two men rivals, perhaps, over Elsa? - Not Elsa.
One night, that Summer,
I got up, to get to the bathroom. And, as I opened the door,
I saw Caroline coming out from Philip's bedroom.
She had a look on her face at the time I didn't really understand.
- But, looking back... - I got the impression,
from Monsieur Blake, that always he disliked your sister.
I have, I confess, precious little experience on the affairs of the heart,
but what other explanation could there possibly be?
- This could be a disaster. - You can trust me, Mademoiselle.
♫ (gramophone music- flashback)
It warms my heart to see you all together again.
Is Lucy joining us?
- This is very good of you, mrs. Spriggs. - My pleasure, sir.
It is, really.
I'm very proud of you, my dear.
I wish someone would tell us the point of all this.
If you will excuse me...
Lady Dittisham, I am delighted that you could make it.
I hope it's worth it.
God, this place is falling apart!
- Before we join the others... - I'd kill for a Martini.
... we might have a little word?
- You don't let up, do you? - To come straight to the point...
I'm pleased to hear it.
After the trial, did Meredith Blake show any interest in you at all?
Animals! Stupid unthinking animals!
What a terrible ordeal for you, my dear!
What a brave girl you are! Elsa,
I've had special feelings for you ever since we met, you know?
And now you're all alone in the world...
Do shut up!
- Weren't you surprised? - Just vaguely nauseated.
- Can I have my Martini now? - But of course.
Well... what a hoot!
Can't one have a moment's peace?
You were not entirely honest with me
when we had that little chat in London.
- Is that so? - Yes indeed, Monsieur Blake.
On at least one night, during that Summer,
Madame Crale was seen coming out of your room
at an hour somewhat compromising.
Who told you that?
- It's none of your damn business. - I am afraid that it is, Monsieur,
if this matter is to be laid to rest.
She thought she might try it on.
He's going to leave me, I know he is. I can't bare the thought of being without him.
Philip, Philip...
Sometimes I get so lonely I feel I'm going mad.
She always thought she could get what she wanted,
but that didn't wash with me.
I think you better go back to bed.
So, you see, when I said I didn't like her, I wasn't telling fibs.
Non.
Merci, Monsieur.
Actually...
It's not quite true.
- Monsieur Blake, are you all-right? - Everything was such a mess!
Always has been, ever since we were children.
She was always ready with some snide remark.
Amyas and I...
... we...
... we were true friends.
She couldn't stand him.
He meant everything to me.
Everything!
Meredith knew, I think.
Caroline suspected.
But nothing she could say changed anything.
It's Amyas, isn't it? Still Amyas.
You just can't get him out of your head.
Do you have any idea how pathetic you are?
It just made me hate her all the more.
I...
... I trust you keep this to yourself.
Of course.
Not that I care much, anyway.
How kind of you to come.
Do you think you can get on with the business in hand?
Indeed, Monsieur, I was about to suggest the very same.
Et alors, where to begin, hmm?
As you know,
it was my purpose to dicover the truth about the murder of Amyas Crale.
- We all know the truth! - Yes, indeed, Monsieur Blake,
but sometimes, what we accept as the truth
may not be the full story, n'est-ce pas?
And, sometimes, it may not be true at all.
D'accord. This is what I learned:
that, at no time did Caroline Crale protest her innocence,
except in a letter to her daughter;
that, in the Dock, she showed no fear;
that, in a letter to her sister, she expressed acquiescence to her fate;
and that, in the opinion of everyone... Pardon, with one exception, most notable,
Caroline Crale was guilty. - Of course she was!
But it was not for me to accept the verdict of others.
Non, it was necessary for me to examine the facts,
and to ensure that the psycology of this case
accorded itself with them.
There's no doubt whatever that she had ample motive
and much of the evidence, it tells against her:
the scent bottle discovered in her room;
the poison she admitted to steal;
the row with her husband, where she threatened to kill him.
None of this seems incorrect, psychologically.
But, then, we come to something that does not quite ring true.
After Meredith Blake discovers the poison is missing,
he rows over here to discuss it with his brother.
On their way up to the house, they overhear a discussion between Caroline and her husband
on the vexed subject of Angela being sent away to school.
It's shameful behavior, Amyas!
- You're being so hard on her. - We'll discuss this after lunch.
- I'll see to her packing. - That does strike me as odd.
They just had a row most horrific in which she has threatened to kill him,
and then, a short time later, they are having an argument relatively trivial
in which Monsieur Crale says he will see to Angela's packing.
Now, does that not strike you as strange?
Why should he do her packing?
When there is her sister, or the governess, or the housekeeper?
I did not know Monsieur Crale,
But you know, somehow I can not picture him folding neatly
the skirts, the blouses, or the underwear. Another thing that striked as odd:
having just threatened to kill him,
Caroline Crale offers to bring to her husband a cold beer.
- Dissimulation. - You think so?
But if she intends to poison him, wouldn't it be more inteligent to...
What is the word?
"Spike" the supply of beer that he has on the water garden,
when no-one was about, hmm?
Alors, Caroline Crale brings to him a beer from the house,
he drinks it, he says,
"Everything tastes foul today", and after lunch she finds him dead.
- We know all this. - Oui, oui, bien sûr.
But now, I offer some information which is new.
After asking Meredith Blake to call for a doctor,
Mademoiselle Williams returns to the water garden.
- You actually saw her do that? - Well, that settles it.
Not necessarilly.
- That is what I saw. - And only your word for it.
I'm not accustomed to having my word doubted.
And I do not doubt it, Mademoiselle Williams.
I believe that what you saw took place exactly as you say that it did,
and, because of what you saw,
I know that Caroline Crale was not guilty.
- Well, how the hell did you work that out? - Do calm down.
I will tell to you. Mademoiselle Williams saw Caroline Crale
wipe off the fingerprints from the beer bottle
and impose the prints of her husband onto it... Onto the bottle, mark.
But the conium was in the glass, not the bottle.
The police found no traces of it in the bottle. No conium had ever been in the bottle.
And Caroline Crale, she did not know that .
She, who has poisoned her husband, did not know how he had been poisoned?
- So, why make it look like suicide? - Because she knew who was the culprit
and she would do anythining rather rather then let that person be suspected.
So, who could it be?
There was only one person
whom she would be willing to protect at all costs.
Mademoiselle Warren, I would like to read the letter your sister wrote you.
No!
- But, Mademoiselle... - I realize what you are suggesting
and I deny it utterly. That letter was meant for my eyes only.
- Aunt Angela, please... - No!
For my mother's sake.
Please.
Merci, Mademoiselle.
"My darling Angela,
"I want you to know that it is al alright.
"I have never lied to you, and I don't now when I say that I am happy,
that I feel a peace that I've never known before." (Caroline's voice)
Don't look back, and don't grieve for me.
Live your life and succed.
It's all alright, my darling, it's all alright.
I'm going to Amyas and I'm happy,
and you must be too. One has to pay one's debts.
"Your loving sister, Caroline."
It is a beautiful letter, non?
And also quite remakable, for it contains one omission that is most tracking.
There is no protestation of innocence.
- Because it was unnecessary. - Oui, bien sûr.
Because she thought her sister knew that she was innocent
for the best of possible reasons! And her only concern
was to comfort, to reassure, and to advert of you having to confess.
"It's all alright, my darling,
it's all alright."
She wanted me to be happy, it's as simple as that.
Yes indeed, and so that the burden of your guilt may not be too great,
she tells to you, "One must pay one's debts" .
And now, she has, at last, the chance to repay you the debt she has to you
for the injury she caused you all those years before.
And now the trial, the sentence, pff! Nothing can touch her,
because, finally, she felt redeemed.
She felt at peace with herself.
And in the light of this,
everything falls into place.
- Now look here, girlie... - I wish you were dead.
When Angela threw the paperweight at Amyas Crale,
the memory that haunts her is brought to life most vividly.
Then, in the next morning, she sees Angela tampering with the beer...
I'll take it, if you don't mind.
... which she then brings to Amyas. - Tastes foul.
- Everything's foul today. - And after lunch,
she finds him dead.
Alors, she is convinced he has been poisoned,
but who could have done it? And then, suddenly,
it its her.
The resentment of Angela over the school, the disapproval of Elsa,
her rage on the night before, her tempering with the beer.
And she remembers also well
her own violent emotions at that age.
So yes, Angela. It has to be!
And the one thought that springs into her mind...
... is how to protect her.
So, she wipes the fingerprints from the bottle,
puts her husband's there to make it look like suicíde,
sends Angela out of the country as soon as possible,
hoping, against hope,
that she does not confess.
But if I'd have done it, of course I'd have confessed.
I'd never let Caroline suffer for what I'd done.
- But you did temper with the beer, did you not? - I can't remember that!
Monsieur Blake, you said that you heard a noise in the laboratory
in the morning of the murder. - Yes, just probably a cat.
Or probably not. I would suggest rather, it was someone who got in through
the sash window and took something from the shelf.
The valerian!
To put in Amyas' drink! I remember taking it.
Angela!
- Was it really that day? - Oui, Mademoiselle.
- This is valerian. - The one that cats like?
They can't get enough of it.
And it was the description given by Monsieur Blake which gave to you the idea.
Yes, I remeber getting out some beer and Caroline...
... catching me before I could put the stuff in it.
I never connected it with that particular day.
She thought it was me!
Oh! I didn't kill him.
- I didn't kill him. - Of course not, my dear.
Can't you see she's telling the truth?
I see it quite clearly, because I know very well who killed him.
Don't you think you're milking it a bit, old man?
It is the older story in the world:
two women and one man.
What we have taken for granted is that the man would leave his wife
for the other woman.
But I would like to suggest here now is that he had no intention of doing
anything of that kind.
After all, the women he had fallen in love with in the past
never expected too much from him, but this time it was different.
She was just a girl,
who saw the world in black and white.
She had the passion for him,
and so assumed he had for her.
She assumed, without question, it was for life,
so, naturally, he would leave his wife.
- He said he would. - Well, a little white lie, perhaps.
All he really wanted was to finish the painting,
and nothing could be allowed to stand in the way. And when Elsa Greer
let the cat from the bag, he was furious,
but he was not concerned unduly.
After all, Caroline had only to put up with things for a few days longer,
then he would tell her the truth, and she would believe him, as so often before.
And Elsa Greer? She would get over it soon enough.
But by that last evening, I believe that he was getting worried
that Caroline Crale was taking things more seriously than usual.
And, by the following morning, I think he had decided to come clean.
You're the only woman in my life, Carol.
You always were, you always will be,. You know that.
She is nothing to me. Nothing.
She was, yes. She knocked me for six to start with, but now is gone.
It's over. I swear to God. She's just a kid.
A passing fancy, that's all.
You and your women! Someday I'll kill you, Amyas.
- Don't be an idiot. - I swear to God I will!
What he did not know
was that Elsa Greer had overheard every word.
And the account that she gave to me of the conversation was not the true one.
You're very sure of yourself, aren't you, Monsieur Poirot?
Of this, Lady Dittisham, yes, I am.
When Amyas Crale came down and said he wanted to get on,
you said you had to go and change.
Which you did... eventually.
I wonder you'd realized how angry was Madame Crale with her husband
for his treatment of you? - How very touching.
When Philip Blake encountered her coming out of the library...
- Good morning. - It's too cruel, too cruel.
... it was of you she was thinking.
I wonder what she would have thought had she known that,
at that very moment,
you were in her room preparing to murder her husband
and put the blame on her?
You see, something else that I am sure of, Lady Dittisham,
is that in the laboratory, in the previous afternoon,
you would have seen Caroline Crale steal the poison.
Monsieur Blake had his back to the room when he was talking to you,
so, it was perfectly possible for you to see her,
the only person who could do so.
Sorry, Merri. It's such a fascinating colection...
And once you had the poison, you went to join Amyas in the garden,
poured him some beer...
To my Mona Lisa.
... and he tossed it back, in his usual manner.
My darling Amyas.
As he painted, you watched and watched,
waiting for the poison to take its efect. A short time later,
you went to fetch a shawl and Caroline Crale again took the opportunity...
... to confront her husband on your behalf.
It's shameful, your behavior, Amyas! You're being too hard on her.
For God's sake! It's all settled. I'll send her packing.
And it was this that the Blake brothers misheard, on their way up from the jetty.
An error that is understandable, n'est-ce pas?
You, then, returned with a shawl,
and then Caroline Crale, she plates straight into your hands,
for she brought to her husband a bottle of cold beer.
It tastes foul! Everything tastes foul today.
"Everything tastes foul today" ,
which suggests that he had tasted something else unpleasant
before the beer that Caroline Crale had brought to him.
And so, you sat, and posed,
and chatted, and waved to Meredith Blake.
You played your part beautifully!
Bloody rheumatism!
... while Amyas Crale painted on, and on, until his limbs failed,
and his speech thickened, and he layed sprawled on the bench,
helpless, with his mind still clear!
And when Meredith Blake appeared from the shadowy path onto the sunny garden,
he could not see clearly.
Only his friend turning slowly around,
unable to covey the fact that he was in the grip of a paralysis that was fatal.
En route to the house, you crushed the pipet on the foot,
the traces of which the police were to find.
And then went to lunch,
leaving Amyas Crale to his fate.
Thank you, Monsieur Poirot.
Mademoiselle.
Amyas dead,
Caroline hanged...
After all these years...
After all these years!
You're very clever, aren't you?
I hope you don't expect me to confess.
So, what are you going to do?
I shall do what I can to induce the appropriate authorities
to grant to Caroline Crale a postumous free pardon.
And me? What're you going to do about me?
I shall lay my conclusions before the necessary people.
If they decide there is a case against you, they may act.
But, it is my opinion...
... that the evidence is not suficient.
Inferences only, not facts.
Moreover, I believe they won't be anxious to proceed against a...
... person in your position.
When I saw Caroline take the conium, I thought she meant to kill herself.
But in the next morning, when I overheard them talking about me, I...
I loved him...
... and he was just stringing me along.
And she felt sorry for me.
I watched him die, Monsieur Poirot. And I never felt more alive,
but what I didn't understand was that I was killing myself.
It was as if they hadn't died at all,
but I had.
I died, Monsieur Poirot.
Elsa!
Come on then, Lucy.
Shoot me. You know you want to.
Do not listen to her, Mademoiselle.
That's right.
Just pull the trigger.
If you do, she will have won.
Come on, do it.
- You're not affraid, are you? - If you kill her, you kill yourself.
Just one little squeeze, that's all it takes.
Spare her, Mademoiselle, and justice may still be done.
Lucy, shoot me!
Subtitles and correction by titta for Addic7ed.com