SONG: ♪ I never thought I'd meet a dream... ♪
(TELEGRAPH CHIRPS MORSE CODE)
♪ And she'd kiss me goodnight
♪ Here I am and there you are
♪ Love never felt so right... ♪
Goodnight, Annie. Goodnight, Fi.
Oh, Annie, will you be going down to the Bluebell tonight?
No, not tonight. Tired.
Early night? (SCOFFS) I wish it was early!
See you tomorrow!
♪ When I see your smiling face... ♪
(OMINOUS MUSIC)
Well, tonight's my lucky night, gentlemen.
I'd like to thank you all for turning up
with your pockets full of donations
for what I can assure you will be a very worthy cause.
(PHONE RINGS) I will raise you. Let me see...
What kind of folks do you think you've got?
Do you have the kind of daddy who'll pay your debts?
MAN: Lieutenant Race?
Excuse me, chaps.
Race.
(WHISPERS) You must come now. Fiona, darling, I can't.
I need 20 more minutes, sweetie. It's a good night.
It's her, Colin. She's taking something from the...
20 minutes, then you got me for a lifetime.
You won't be able to get rid of me. She's rolling it up in...
Fiona, listen. 20 minutes and then we can celebrate. But just wait.
Right. Where were we?
Goodnight.
Goodnight, ma'am.
Ripped By mstoll
(PANTS)
Fiona!
Fiona, come here!
Fiona! Fiona, come here!
Fiona, stop! Come here.
What are you doing? I saw you.
I saw you take the papers. Come back with us.
Get away!
Stop! Please, stop!
(TYRES SQUEAL)
(CLOCK TICKS)
And so, madam, may I ask you a question?
You may, but I might not answer.
My mother told me it was rude
to answer a question before 6 o'clock in the evening.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Especially from Swedish gentlemen, Herr Hjerson.
But I am Finnish!
I wish you would finish. I'd like to go and get myself a drink.
Do you not think that the murder of your husband...
Lipstick.
...the scarlet lipstick on his collar, the Bible on his desk...
The good Samaritan.
...open at the page of the good Samaritan,
the word 'revenge' written in his blood
on the blotter,
is littered with what we call in Finnish 'puna silli'?
Red herrings, madam. (GROANS)
Red herrings!
(LAUGHTER AND CHATTER)
WOMAN: She's terribly suspicious, in my book.
MAN: No, it's the vicar. Never trust a vicar who wears shorts.
I didn't think fiction was your thing, Poirot.
Oh, pour l'amour de Dieu!
It is my friend Colin.
But it has been so long! Good evening, sir.
How does your father, my good friend Colonel Race?
The old man's fine. He's enjoying his retirement.
Another whisky for my young friend, s'il vous plaît.
Thank you. (BELL RINGS)
MAN: Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.
I need your help, sir. But of course.
I realise that this meeting, it is not a coincidence.
I imagine that you sought me at my apartment
and George, mon valet, told you where I could be found.
But if I may,
you have the appearance of such a one
who has travelled this evening a great distance.
Ah! Dover.
Can we talk after the final act?
I don't want to ruin your enjoyment of the play.
Oh, non, non. For Poirot, the play, it is over.
With my dear friend Madame Oliver, the puzzle, it is not so intricate.
Non, she is not in the same class as,
par exemple, Monsieur Garry Gregson.
You are acquainted with his books? Of course!
Alors, let us find somewhere here to sit
and you will permit me to help you, mon ami.
There's a girl in Dover. Mm-hm.
She works in one of those secretarial bureaux, you know...
a typist place, you ring in and hire a typist
for an hour or whatever you want.
And how does she call herself?
Sheila Webb. Are you alright?
Ah, oui, oui. Poirot, he listens.
Anyway, yesterday, a very strange thing happened to Sheila Webb.
4 and 6! I only got them yesterday from Jolly's.
And the heel snaps off like a twig in a storm.
Sheila, have a look at this. 4 and 6 from Jolly's.
I strut off to lunch and the heel snaps in a grate
like a twig in a storm.
Aren't you supposed to be typing up Mr Levine's manuscript, Nora?
'Naked Love'. Yes, Miss Martindale.
Then put your shoes away and get on with 'Naked Love'.
Miss Webb, may I have a word?
"Desire had him in its grasp.
"With frenzied fingers he tore the fragile chiffon from her breasts
"and bent her over the soap."
What?
I've had a call from a Miss Pebmarsh.
She wants a stenographer for 3 o'clock.
She asked for you particularly.
Have you worked for her before?
I can't remember doing so, Miss Martindale.
19 Wilbraham Crescent.
I can't remember going there.
Well, it's you she asked for, for 3:00.
Have you any other appointments?
Oh, yes! Professor Purdy at 5:00 at the Castle Hotel.
(PHONE RINGS)
Cavendish Secretarial Services. One moment, please.
Sheila, Miss Pebmarsh said if she's not there,
the door's not latched... you're to let yourself in and wait.
Good afternoon. How may I help you?
COLIN: So Sheila goes, and she really doesn't recognise the place.
Wilbraham Crescent is one of those quiet streets
away from the seafront
where everyone keeps themselves to themselves.
Hello?
Miss Pebmarsh?
Sheila Webb here from Cavendish.
Miss Pebmarsh, if it's alright, I'm going to sit in the front room.
(CLOCK CHIMES, CUCKOO CHIRPS THRICE)
Is somebody here?
Is somebody in my house?
Is somebody in this room?
Who are you?
Don't step on him! He's dead. You're gonna step on him!
Who are you?
(SOBS AND SHRIEKS)
Oh, please help me!
What is it? He's in there!
He's dead!
He's dead and he's just lying there, dead... stabbed... on the floor.
Who's been stabbed? Calm down. In there!
Someone's dead in there? Yes.
Please help. I will help you. I will help you.
Are you saying there's a dead man lying in number 19?
Yes. Alright.
Let's go in. No, no, no.
Then let me go in and then I'll call the police.
No, she's in there too! Who?
Miss Pebmarsh. Right.
Well, sit down, and, er, breathe.
Stay here. I will help you. Yes.
(SOBS)
Miss Pebmarsh?
Who are you?
I'm Lieutenant Race. I was passing by.
There's a dead man behind my sofa.
How did this happen? I don't know.
Who is he? I don't know.
I live alone. I came home from work.
There was an hysteric in the house. She left, screaming.
And I find a dead man behind the sofa.
You're very calm.
When you saw what I saw in the Great War, Lieutenant Race,
you know a dead man is not something to be scared of.
If you will invite the young hysteric in,
I'll make her a cup of sweet tea.
I'll call the police. Very good.
POIROT: Who was this dead man?
Huh. It's much stranger than that, Poirot.
Was he known to Mademoiselle Sheila Webb?
Apparently not.
No, I've never seen him before, Inspector.
And you're positive about that.
Miss Martindale said to come here for 3 o'clock and let myself in.
I then noticed the clocks
and I thought I might have got the wrong time.
And then, just before Miss Pebmarsh arrived,
I noticed the man lying there.
Have you worked for Miss Pebmarsh before?
No. And that's the thing, sir.
She asked for me specially. I don't know how she knew me.
Sir, we can't find the murder weapon. There's no knife.
He's a Mr RH Curry, Metropolitan and Provincial Insurance.
I don't know him.
Stay here.
I've never heard the name 'Curry' or the name of his firm.
Were you expecting any visitor today?
No. And I've never seen this man before.
Take him away.
Just the typist you ordered.
I didn't order a typist.
What are you talking about?
You didn't ring up the Cavendish Bureau at lunchtime today
and ask for the services of Sheila Webb?
Certainly not. And I've never heard of a Sheila Webb.
Where were you at lunchtime?
I work part-time at Mr Wright's photography studio on the Parade...
taking bookings, seeing people in.
Lunchtime can be quite busy.
You didn't call the Cavendish Bureau?
No, young man, I did not.
I did my shift and returned home as usual, just after 3:00.
I know I wasn't late because I heard my cuckoo clock
as I approached the door.
What about your other clocks? Why were they all set to 4:13?
What other clocks?
Your four other clocks in the sitting room.
There are no four other clocks in the sitting room.
Just my cuckoo clock.
Et Mademoiselle Pebmarsh... does she always keep unlocked her door?
You're thinking, I imagine, of her neighbours?
Oui.
They saw nothing.
On one side there's a cat lady
who literally could speak of nothing else.
Tiddlypops likes chicken and Copenhagen loves his kittens.
Don't you, Copey?
On the other side, a brother and sister... academics.
They saw nothing at all during lunchtime.
At the back of the house, there's no access at all.
Et Mademoiselle Martindale?
It wasn't Miss Pebmarsh who rang me?
Did you take the call yourself? Yes.
At about 1:45. And I put her in the book.
Et these clocks... definitely they do not belong to Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
That's what she says. Eh bien, it is a puzzle.
But there is something else that puzzles Poirot.
You.
Why was Colin Race in Wilbraham Crescent at 3:00 yesterday afternoon?
And why do the police permit that
you should ask questions during the interviews?
And why is it that your eyes are inflamed with crying, my dear friend?
I have a commission in the navy, but...
...I'm...
...but I'm... I'm Ml6.
Under Dover Castle, ever since the Napoleonic Wars,
there's been a series of tunnels.
We're in the process of turning them into a bombproof HQ
where the navy could police the channel from
were things to come to a second war with Germany.
I've been trying to locate a German mole amongst the staff.
And three nights ago, I found her.
Annabel Larkin. She was followed and she was killed.
Along with the woman I loved... Fiona Hanbury...
...who died because I wasn't there.
Amongst Fiona's things, I found this.
A crescent, the letter 'M',
61.
I think it's a note as to where Fiona followed Larkin.
Where the contact was.
I've checked out the Crescent Pub
and the half-dozen Crescent Roads in Dover.
And what, you were checking out Wilbraham Crescent
at the very instant that Sheila Webb, she runs out of number 19?
Yes. I was checking again.
It was closest to the scene of the accident.
And I may sound crazy, but I don't believe it was a coincidence.
I believe the man dead in Wilbraham Crescent
must be connected in some way to Annabel Larkin.
Possible.
And I don't believe what the police are thinking...
that Sheila Webb is a murderer.
I see. She's the main suspect.
She was the one that found the body.
She's the one they can place alone in the house.
But I saw how scared she was when she ran out.
(SCREAMS) Please help me!
I know she's not a murderer.
I will. I will help you.
And I will not let another girl down
because I was unable to help.
(AUDIENCE APPLAUDS INSIDE THEATRE)
Good morning, gentlemen.
Well, it seems this is a time for cooperation
between the navy and the police, don't you agree?
We want to flush out what remains of this German cell in Dover.
Intelligence tells me it could well be connected with
the murder of this insurance agent in...
Where was it... Wilbraham Crescent?
That hasn't been verified yet, Admiral.
It's not Wilbraham Crescent?
No, that he was an insurance agent.
Inspector, may I introduce you to Hercule Poirot
who Lieutenant Race has requested be brought in
to help this investigation.
Well, I think we can...
I've verified this with Whitehall and Scotland Yard
and they tell me he's a private detective of excellent reputation
and that we're lucky to have him on board.
If that's what I have to work with, that's what I work with.
Any ideas, Mr Poirot, just pop 'em in the pot.
Merci.
It seems that if we solve one of our problems here,
we'll solve the other.
Monsieur, may I have a word? Admiral. Inspector.
I remember your days from the Belgian police force, monsieur.
Or at least your reputation.
When did you leave?
After the Great War. Yes.
Do you know what they called
this stretch of the Channel during the war?
Hellfire Corner.
And it will be again.
Because there will be a second war, Poirot.
And if Germany invades, this is where they'll come.
What was stolen the other night
were the plans of our minefields between here and France.
It is essential that those plans are recovered
before they leave these shores, monsieur.
If Hitler sees them, then the front door of England will be wide open.
You'll find us very organised here, Mr Poirot. Very thorough.
Only last year we dealt with the suspicious death of a taxi driver
and Scotland Yard made the point of admiring our attention to detail.
Evidence, as you see, is documented in a system of my own devising.
The prime suspect has her own board, as does the victim,
where we will build up detailed profiles.
But for me, the key is this diagram here.
And the key phrase for my investigation is
"Someone will have seen something."
Ah, oui. C'est très bien, ça.
As you can see, from the unusual design of the street,
it is actually a crescent that doubles back on itself, Mr Poirot.
Oui.
All of them knew Miss Pebmarsh had a set routine
and the house would be empty in the middle of the day.
And who lives opposite Mademoiselle Pebmarsh at number 61?
Mr and Mrs Bland.
A Monsieur Bland? Already that arouses my suspicion.
Oh, no, no, no. He's a good man.
Built my mother-in-law a fireplace, actually.
I had London run a check on him straightaway, sir.
He's as clean as a whistle.
And the murder weapon... it has been recovered?
Um, no. No.
And there was no sign of a struggle
in the house of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
Absolutely not.
Then I would like to interview the neighbours today, if I may.
Already done. There are the statements.
Non... Poirot would like to ask questions of his own.
Yes... already done it. Non.
I would like to ask questions of my own, Inspector Hardcastle.
Of course you would. Of course.
And these are the clocks?
Yeah, we're on the sniff to find out where and when they were purchased.
Dresden china clock,
French thing...
Ormolu.
And the silver carriage.
And where is the fourth clock?
There were only three clocks, sir.
Unless you count the cuckoo clock.
Non, non, non. I do not count the cuckoo.
There was a fourth clock... a travelling clock...
and on it, the name 'Rosemary'.
That's right.
Don't tell me we've lost a clock, for goodness sake!
When I boxed the evidence, sir,
there were definitely only three clocks in that room.
Well, of course I remember the 'Rosemary' clock.
Have the police lost it? Perhaps.
Perhaps it is stolen.
Why?
I do not know, mademoiselle.
I cannot think it would be of any value.
No, it was a shabby thing.
The ormolu was pretty, though.
Mais oui.
Thank you.
Non, non, non! Non, merci.
I'll have them both, then.
Mademoiselle, the Lieutenant Race has told to me that these last few days
have been for you quite an ordeal.
Yes.
It's not the shock of seeing a dead man... that passes.
It's the terrible suspicion the police have of me now.
Did you see that board he had up, Poirot?
He had nothing on it... no evidence, nothing.
Have you told to the police the truth in everything, mademoiselle?
Of course, sir. Then you have no need to worry.
I need to get back to work.
And so should we.
Will you be alright getting back, Miss Webb?
Yes, I'll be fine, thank you.
Mademoiselle, do you know what means the name 'Rosemary'?
No. It means 'remembrance'.
Oh, remembrance. (CHUCKLES) Goodbye.
Au revoir.
Merci.
I saw and heard nothing on the day of the murder
until I heard the girl scream.
Tiddlypops was having one of his turns, you see,
and I was singing to him to calm him down.
You seem a bit agitated yourself, monsieur.
Shall I sing to you? Oh, non, non. Merci, madame.
Tell to me, if you please...
do you have much contact with Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
Oh, no, no.
She keeps herself to herself and does terribly well for a blindy.
I see her pass by the window to and from the photographic studio
regular as clockwork.
I think if she were a cat,
she'd be one of TS Eliot's practical cats, don't you?
Oui. (STIFLES A SNEEZE)
Pardon, madame... do you think I might possibly see your garden
and so remove myself from here?
Oh, yes, yes.
Have you realised that if you write 'TS Eliot' backwards,
it spells 'toilets'?
Well, almost.
Copenhagen pointed that out to me, didn't you, Copey?
(CAT MIAOWS)
The bane of our neighbourhood are the Mabbutts... number 62.
He has girls with catapults.
In fact, I heard Miss Pebmarsh have hard words with Mr Mabbutt
just the other evening about their behaviour.
May I ask, was there any connection
between the murdered man and Miss Pebmarsh, Lieutenant?
I believe not. Oh!
That's unusual too.
So he just came there to be killed, did he?
Miss Pebmarsh is as quiet as a church mouse, isn't she, Matthew?
Yes. We hear neither hide nor hair.
We told the other inspector this.
I don't know why we're being asked again.
She would have left her house at 11:00 on the day of the murder
and got back at 3:00.
Yes, that's her routine... I'm sure everyone knows that.
And it is during that time that
Mr Curry would have entered the house and met his death.
Tell to me, if you please, before the girl's scream,
did you hear, perhaps, any sound of a struggle?
We don't know this man.
And our studies are at the back of the house, Lieutenant.
We're academics, you see.
And neither my brother nor I heard anything at all during luncheon.
We like this street because it's quiet, also.
Yes.
The only trouble we've had is that Mrs Hemmings.
The cat lady?
She might play the scatty old dear, Lieutenant,
but scratch the surface and she's a poisonous old bitch,
believe me.
Rachel, we must get back to work.
Yes. Good day, gentlemen.
Good day, madame. Good day.
Well, it's like every other street in England...
full of people who keep themselves to themselves
while hating each other at the same time.
You should know... we've had a, er...
Well, I was gonna say a breakthrough,
but actually, it's the opposite.
The name 'Curry' has turned out to be bogus.
And the Metropolitan and Provincial Insurance Company
does not and never has existed.
Was there anything else found on the dead man?
Uh... labels on his clothes, or a wallet?
All the labels were cut out. We have no idea at all who he is.
This is most extraordinary.
Can I tag along with you for a while?
"Someone will have seen something", remember?
Yes, of course.
Eh bien, now we go en arrière... to the rear,
to Monsieur et Madame Bland.
I don't recognise him, no. Do you, Joe?
No. I wish I did.
And we've never had anything to do with the blind lady.
You read about these murders, don't you...
Jack the Ripper, 'Brides in the Baths' Smith...
and you think, "If only I'd been there,
"seen something, stopped it in some way,
"or if I couldn't stop it,
"at least have been useful to the police afterwards."
And now there's one in our neighbourhood.
We just didn't look out the window at the right time, did we?
Well, you'll often find there's an element of luck in police work.
Witnesses looking out windows at the right time.
Oh, that's it!
It's luck. It's like... like falling in love.
It's just lucky that you were there on that night
and she was there,
and it was luck that brought you together.
And where was it that you met your husband, Madame Bland?
Well, she was an actress, weren't you?
I was... quite low at the time,
and it just so happened that Valerie
was playing 'The Mikado' in Dover, weren't you?
We'd always go to the same pub after the show.
I went there just to get out of the house.
And, well... luck struck.
C'est formidable.
This is all very lovely, but if we can get back to the investigation.
Why weren't you working on the day of the murder?
Oh, well, I'm almost retired now, Hardcastle.
I've still got the van just to keep my hand in,
but Valerie inherited... well...
A little bit of cash.
(LAUGHS) A lot, actually.
From her Canadian family.
Pardon... you are from Canada, madame?
Well, I haven't lived there for... what is it?
Well, it must be nearly 20 years. Is it 20?!
Yes. And she lost her accent when she went to drama school.
Ah!
With the money, I don't have to work.
That's a bit of luck. Luck again!
It's everywhere.
Luck struck! Yes, luck struck, you see!
Although it didn't strike for this poor fellow.
MAN: It's a pity the Blands weren't murdered, don't you think?
Or the entire neighbourhood.
That cat woman struggles for a reason to exist, if you ask me.
Pebmarsh lives in a nether world all of her own.
And those Waterhouses... a bit too quiet,
a bit too hush-hush, if you know what I mean.
No, I don't know the deceased, sorry.
I do not know what you mean, Monsieur Mabbutt.
I don't trust people who read or write books, Monsieur Poirot.
Never have. It's folks like that got the world into the mess it's in.
Were you here at lunchtime on the day of the murder?
I was, which is unusual.
I'm often away in the week and leave everything to the nanny.
My wife has passed on.
I work for Armstrong Ordinance. We have contracts with the French.
I spend most weeks over there.
Your country's as badly prepared for war as ours is, Poirot.
I'm Belgian, not French.
Are you now! Oui.
A Walloon! Well...
Belgium won't last a week if it all goes belly-up, will it?
Have you been visited by anyone selling insurance in the last week?
I told your constable all this. No.
And I didn't hear sounds of a struggle or some such either.
Can I show you some pictures of some clocks?
I've left them inside. Will you accompany me?
What do I have to look at clocks for?
To see if you recognise them, sir.
They're central to the murder.
Very well, if I must.
I would get your contacts to investigate that man, mon ami.
I'm on it, yes. Regular trips to the Continent.
It's normally exactly what we'd look for.
But he's helping arm the French... that's hardly pro-German.
But the letter 'M' on the note of Mademoiselle Fiona...
it could be Mabbutt.
Mabbutt lives in number 62, Poirot, not 61.
Oui, that is true.
I'll check on the Blands' finances as well,
make sure they got that windfall where they say they did
and it's not being channelled from some continental bank.
Bon.
(GIRLS WHISPER)
(GIRLS GIGGLE)
Is that the garden of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
Are you trying to work out who killed that man?
Oui. Were you playing here on the day that he died, mademoiselle?
Our nanny grounded us for two days.
We kept hitting the cats.
So she kept us in and we missed all the fun.
Alors... you call yourself Mademoiselle Jenny?
And how do you call yourself, mademoiselle?
May.
And how do you call yourself?
Hercule Poirot.
(SCOFFS) That's not a name... it's a noise!
Alors, Mademoiselle Jenny and Mademoiselle May,
will you help Poirot?
Merci.
I've been through this with the police already, Monsieur Poirot.
Oui, mademoiselle.
And I did not make that call requesting the services of Sheila Webb.
Have you ever used a secretary from the Cavendish Bureau?
I may have lost my sight in the last 15 years, monsieur,
but I have not lost my self-sufficiency.
Have you ever had any dealings with the bureau?
Well, I know where it is on the Parade. I pass it every day.
And some of the secretaries may have been in
for portraits with their sweethearts.
But apart from that...
Your Monsieur Wright is an artist most fine.
I believe he is, yes.
One of the clocks found in your house
has gone missing, Miss Pebmarsh...
a small travelling clock with the word 'Rosemary' engraved...
If I may, Inspector...
Mademoiselle Pebmarsh, would you tell to me please...
your glaucoma, is it hereditary or brought on by the trauma?
I drove an ambulance in your neck of the woods during the war, monsieur,
and was temporarily blinded by the blast of a shell.
I regained my sight, only for it to gradually deteriorate.
My sympathies. I don't seek sympathy, monsieur.
Non.
Miss Martindale is this way, gentlemen.
But do watch your step... there's half-finished romances
lying all over the place in here, isn't there, girls?
Ooh... tomorrow's inquest, Inspector.
How early would you recommend we get there?
Only we're all terribly excited
and we wouldn't want to end up with seats down the back,
would we, Miss Martindale?
It's not a football match, Nora.
An inquest is a serious legal procedure.
Oh, I know! It's like a public hanging.
I'm sorry, gentlemen. Please come in.
HARDCASTLE: May I introduce Hercule Poirot.
Alright. Enchanté, mademoiselle.
Merci.
I typed up a bodice-ripper last year about a public hanging
and it was so thrilling!
You'd wonder why they ever stop...
Yes, thank you, Nora.
Miss Martindale, would you again go over the events of the phone call
from someone purporting to be Miss Pebmarsh?
Yes. Yes. I was sitting here when the call came through.
I made a note in the book and then I...
Mademoiselle, if I may ask...
Did you do the typing for Garry Gregson?
Yes. Yes, I was his private secretary.
I set up the bureau with the money he left me after he died.
I am a reader most admiring, mademoiselle.
Oh! I still manage his estate.
All of his papers are here... published and unpublished.
'Bachelors in Peril'!
Mmm, certainly one of his best.
(WHISPERS) For goodness sake! A puzzle most intriguing.
But it did not confuse Poirot.
'The Train at the Station'.
Ah, oui. The hair of the moustache on the cocktail glass, eh?
The three pairs of shoes, size 6.
All designed to throw one off the scent, eh?
But not Hercule Poirot.
Is there any chance we can get back to the real police work here?
How's your afternoon? Miserable.
Miss Martindale is as suspicious of me as the policemen.
Has your funny little friend found out who did it yet?
But if you ask me,
Pebmarsh could easily be lying about not making that phone call.
That's what I've been thinking. The body was found in her house.
She could have easily pinched that clock.
Whoever stole it must be connected, because it's...
What are you doing this evening?
Avoiding people.
Yeah. Me too.
I've got to go back to the castle, but after, would you...
Would you want to avoid meeting people together?
Yes.
Good.
"How did you become blind?"
"Where did you fall in love?"
"What's your favourite Garry Gregson novel?"
What on earth have these got to do with the investigation?
Probably nothing. So, why ask them?
To gather information. What information?
Police work is facts, alibis, evidence,
not gossip.
How did any case get solved in Belgium while you were in charge?
Through the listening, through observation.
And every case, it was solved, I can assure you. Mademoiselle.
It's been a long day. I'm sorry.
Can I give you a lift to your hotel?
Ah, oui. Merci.
Is there a hotel that you would recommend, Inspector?
Because I have not had time to make the reservation.
And also, I must telephone to George, mon valet,
for my valise.
Yes, I know a good one... the Travellers.
I'll stand you a drink.
Are you coming? Can you drop me at the castle?
Of course. You're in for a treat, Mr Poirot.
We'll get a missing persons campaign out on Curry...
pictures in the paper, bobbies at the train station, the whole works.
Someone will have seen something.
Oui. Inspector, this bar... does it have a menu for the cocktails?
That's the finest brew on the south coast, mate.
The key, now, is to find the identity of the murdered man.
Is this the best hotel in Dover?
Here, let's line a few more of these up, shall we?
Terry!
(COLIN LAUGHS) What are you laughing about?
Poirot.
I left him at the Travellers Inn
looking like petits fours in a chip shop.
He's trying to keep it in, but he's having 40 fits
at the thought of having to stay there.
It's nice to see you laugh.
Will you tell me about the girl who died... Fiona?
Fiona.
And then will you tell me about you?
Sir.
Hello? Is that the Castle Hotel?
Bon. I wonder, do you have available for a few days a suite?
Oui. Hercule Poirot.
Non, non, non. Hercule...
Oui. Poir...
Oui, that will do.
Merci.
I'm telling you, Mr Poirot, Sheila Webb made that call to Martindale.
But there is no reason why she would. There is no evidence.
There is that.
But in my gut, I think once we have the evidence,
it will point to her.
But do you not think, as does the Admiral Hamling,
that the murder is connected in some way to the theft of documents?
Ah, oui? Merci!
À bientôt. Merci, monsieur.
No, I don't. That's navy talk.
They think everything's related to the coming war.
There'll be no war.
But I think the man will have a link to Sheila Webb.
She arranged to meet him there and killed him.
But with what motive, Inspector?
The clocks and the 4:13 and the 'Rosemary'
will all come back to her.
I've seen girls like that before, and they're manipulative.
And let's see how she does under pressure at the inquest tomorrow.
I'm adopted. I've no-one.
I was adopted by an elderly couple
who had no children of their own, and...
Well, they're dead now.
It's times like this I long to have a family to go home to.
Do you have a sweetheart?
No.
Damaged goods. I don't think so.
You talk of Fiona in a way I don't think anyone has ever talked of me.
That's nice.
This is nice, Colin.
Ah! What is it?
(SPEAKS GERMAN)
(RESPONDS IN GERMAN)
(BOTH CONTINUE CONVERSING IN GERMAN)
How do I look? Is this too red?
I don't want to appear a dubious character.
The inquest will be full of plain-clothes detectives
eying the faces of the crowd
surreptitiously looking for giveaway signs.
At least, that's what happened in Garry Gregson's 'Dusty Death'.
You remember that, Miss Martindale? Thank you, Nora. Yes, I do.
That's how they caught the murderer...
gave himself away with a nervous twitch.
Will you elbow me if I start
twitching involuntarily, Miss Martindale?
I'm worried about twitching involuntarily...
it used to be a habit of my mother's.
Have you polished my new brogues, Valerie?
(SHOUTS) Have you polished my brogues?
I'm sorry. I do not want to miss a word of this inquest.
By the back door. Thank you.
I don't want to go, Joe.
Get your coat on.
Just... get it on.
Come on, girls!
Best seats in the house!
Sheila.
It'll be alright. Oh, don't. Don't.
What's wrong? It'll be fine. They're very dry, inquests.
They just rattle the facts out.
This arrived for me this morning.
I received a call from a Miss Pebmarsh
at about 1:45 during the lunch hour.
She was most particular in requesting
the services of my employee Miss Sheila Webb.
I made a note in the book
and then I checked Miss Webb's other appointments for that afternoon.
Well, I wasn't the one who made the call to the Cavendish Bureau,
I assure you.
I merely arrived home from work just after 3:00
and found a young lady in my front room
suffering from a fit of hysterics.
She ran out of the house, and then I discovered the body
behind the sofa.
I spent my lunch break alone
in the little caff on the corner of the Parade.
I must have got back about 2:15.
I left immediately for Wilbraham Crescent.
I entered the house as instructed.
I noticed all the clocks in the sitting room were...
Well, they were wrong.
This threw me a little, and I checked my own wristwatch and then...
...I saw the legs of a dead man I didn't recognise
sticking out from behind the sofa.
If it pleases the court, I'd like to read a statement
from the report of the police surgeon
which has been handed to me.
"After a thorough examination of the contents of the deceased's stomach,
"I conclude that he had not had lunch, but had had a drink,
"and that the drink had been spiked with chloryl hydrate."
A process known as a mickey finn, Your Honour.
He'd been drugged before he'd been stabbed.
Would you like to come and have a cup of tea, dear?
No, thank you.
Must have been a terrible shock.
Well, if you'd like a cup of tea, my name's Val and we're at number 61.
Thank you.
How long before he was stabbed
was our Monsieur Curry drugged with the chloryl hydrate?
The surgeon says the effects of the drug can last up to four hours.
So he was almost certainly drugged at another location
and then taken to number 19, Wilbraham Crescent.
Let's talk about this at the station, Poirot.
Inspector, Mr Hardcastle!
It was exactly as was said by Madame Hemmings.
"He just came here to be killed." Inspector!
What is it, miss? I'd just like to speak to him.
He's going back to the station. Contact him there.
But I don't see how... Thank you, madam.
What she said couldn't possibly be true!
If Curry was killed in a different location,
that puts Pebmarsh back in the frame.
Not at all.
Even a blind woman can stab a drugged man in the heart.
The time of his death is estimated between 2:00 and 3:00.
And I have literally millions of witnesses
who saw her at the photographic studio during that time.
I exaggerate for excitement, obviously.
But Sheila Webb arrives there... what do you think to this, Poirot?...
for a booking she's made herself by ringing Martindale,
stabs the fella, raises the alarm.
You didn't see how scared she was
when she came out of that house, Hardcastle...
Didn't I?
...how she's been set up every step of the way.
Look at this.
"Remember 4:13."
Someone is definitely putting the frights on her.
Inspector...
The only thing missing is that it's not written in blood.
Inspector, there's a Nora Brent on the phone,
would like to speak to you regarding the inquest.
And we have someone who has an identification of the dead man.
Tell her to ring back later.
Ah, Mr Bland. Please come in.
I'm afraid the inspector's busy at the moment, madam.
I need to speak to him, because what she said couldn't possibly be true.
She was lying at the inquest, you see?
I'm sorry, madam, but it's just not possible at the moment.
I'm gonna come round.
BLAND: I've seen this man before.
I didn't know it, but then I saw the girl at the inquest.
Which girl was this? The girl Sheila Webb.
Now, I'd definitely seen her before.
It was like having a sixth sense of déjà vu,
which is a feeling I'd not previously experienced.
And where have you seen before the Mademoiselle Webb?
Well, Mrs Bland and I were at the fine art fair at the Castle Hotel.
Now that our pockets are a little deeper, Hardcastle,
we get invited to things like that.
And Sheila Webb was walking through the foyer
having come from upstairs with a man...
...this man.
When was this?
The day before the murder.
Are you sure?
Of course he's sure, Lieutenant Rice.
It's not everyone whose judgment is melted
in the face of a pretty girl.
What are you suggesting?
Thank you for coming, Mr Bland.
I am questioning your ability to think professionally
about a young woman you were seen kissing
moments before the coroner's inquest.
Shall we go and talk to her?
Jenkins, we need to get down to the Parade and find Miss Sheila Webb.
You think she did it, don't you?
At this point in time, Poirot, he rules out nothing.
Oh, doesn't he?
Well, I know she isn't involved.
I know she's a good person who needs our help.
The world is full of good people who do bad things, mon ami.
WOMAN: I don't have anywhere to go!
Don't! Don't touch me!
Sheila, come back inside.
I don't want you to follow me, because this all stops now.
Come back inside. Do you understand?
Come back inside, Sheila. Come on, calm down.
WOMAN: We were just walking past...
Well, we just looked inside the box...
(SCREAMS)
HARDCASTLE: Help her, Jenkins!
It's Nora Brent, sir. She was trying to talk to you earlier.
Oh! Would someone please get them to stop hurting my girls?
Will you get it to stop?
Using her exact words, what did Nora Brent say to you, Constable?
She said she couldn't see how what she said could be true...
that she was lying at the inquest.
And this is Sheila Webb she's talking about?
I believe so. But she didn't mention her name.
Constable Jenkins, are you absolutely certain
that those were her exact words?
It is very important. I'm sure, yes.
I think so. It was busy.
Everyone was on their way out.
Miss Martindale,
Sheila Webb was seen with the dead man at the Castle Hotel
the day before the murder.
The Castle Hotel?
That would be during working hours.
Did she have an appointment there?
Well, she often has an appointment there.
She had a regular client
who resides at the Castle Hotel.
And I use the word 'client' with all its meanings, sir.
Sheila Webb has a habit of inappropriate familiarity
with some of our male clients...
a Professor Purdy especially, who resides at the Castle Hotel
and who requests her services at least once a week.
He's bought her gifts, I believe.
Perhaps you've noticed a silver wristwatch
which a girl like Sheila couldn't possibly afford.
Oui, mademoiselle.
I would not be at all surprised to hear
that she had been seen with other gentlemen at the Castle Hotel.
That's a disgraceful insinuation. Is it, Lieutenant?
Surely you've been aware
the effect Sheila Webb has on a certain type of man.
Tell to me, if you please, has Mademoiselle Sheila Webb
or Mademoiselle Nora Brent
ever worked on the estate of Garry Gregson?
Not again. Who cares about Garry ruddy Gregson?
Can't you see the case that is building in front of you here?
No, monsieur. I deal with all matters Gregson.
Merci, mademoiselle. Come on.
Where is it that you go, Inspector?
To show the dead man's photograph to the Castle's staff, of course.
Are you coming? Non.
No? Non.
I don't even begin to understand you, Poirot.
Evening, sir. Evening.
What news have you got for me, Rice?
Well, I ran checks on the residents' names of 61 Wilbraham Crescent
as well as I can, and there seems...
And what did you find?
Not much, truth be told.
The Blands have come into money,
but as you can see from these bank transactions,
it's genuinely an inheritance from Canada.
Colin Mabbutt next door is of interest to us
because he travels extensively on the Continent.
Yes, Mabbutt works for Armstrong Ordinance, doesn't he,
who supply the French army with weapons.
He does. So not your usual German spy.
No.
Anything else? Not as yet.
Does this second murder on the Parade
have anything to do with Wilbraham Crescent?
Yes. In what way?
I... I don't know.
You don't know much, do you, Lieutenant?
Does Poirot? Not yet.
Maybe this business in Wilbraham Crescent
has nothing to do with the leak
and Fiona Hanbury's death.
Maybe you're wrong, Lieutenant.
I don't think so, sir.
Well, you have one more day,
and then I'll bring in other agents, do you understand?
Is that mine?
Yes.
Where did you find it?
Sorry I wasn't there for you.
What do you mean? On the night you died.
Let me get my hat and my coat.
Let's go down the Bluebell.
Then let's go to my house.
Alright? Alright.
Stay here.
HARDCASTLE: Do you recognise him?
Has he been in the hotel at any time in the past week?
MAID: I don't think so.
Possibly accompanied by a young lady...
a Miss Sheila Webb.
I cannot believe that poor girl was murdered in broad daylight
where anyone could have seen.
It sounds a most desperate crime.
Oui, most desperate indeed.
Tell to me, if you please,
after the inquest, did Mademoiselle Nora Brent say anything to you?
No. Why would she?
So, you did not know her at all?
She had not made, perhaps, a visit to the studio here
with her sweetheart?
I don't recognise the name.
But it's possible. Appointments are usually made in the man's name.
Ah. You're welcome to look.
Mr Wright keeps copies of every photograph he's ever taken.
And he's been here over 30 years.
Oh, merci, mademoiselle, but I do not think that will be necessary.
Does Monsieur Wright develop his own portraits?
Yes, he does everything here.
If he sends out to a lab, the results are never as professional.
(CHUCKLES) Oui, d'accord.
Ah, 'Pebmarsh'.
So you have had taken your own portrait?
No, monsieur.
These are my sons.
They passed through here during the war and sent a portrait back to me.
They are most handsome.
Yes, they were.
They were.
I volunteered for service after I lost them.
And then, after the war, came here.
And it pains me to think, monsieur,
that if this peace does not hold,
there'll soon be another generation of boys in these files
who send photos back to their parents
but never get home.
Oh... hello.
How have you been?
Can I be with you tonight?
Ah, Poirot! Just in time to help.
We've had over 200 responses
to the picture of the dead man in the paper.
We're trying to cross-reference them,
see if the same name keeps coming up
or the photograph fits.
Could they not identify him at the Castle Hotel?
No, nothing. They knew Sheila Webb and Professor Purdy.
But I think the Blands must have seen them and got mistaken.
Too eager to help. Do you agree?
Non.
I do not think it is important who he is,
but who he is.
Right. Well, I'm not gonna rise to that one.
Bonsoir.
Oh, the clocks, Poirot.
All bought from the same stall in Deal market within the last month.
No ID on the buyer, though.
All bought there except the... The 'Rosemary' clock.
Yes. The 'Rosemary'.
Just as I thought.
Thank you, Inspector.
"It's not important who he is, but who he is.
"Not important who he is, but who he is."
Anyone understand that?
(CLOCK TICKS)
(WHISPERS) Most extraordinary.
Forgive me, but unless I am mistaken, you must be Professor Purdy.
(SMOOTH JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS)
Where did you go after the inquest?
I want the truth.
For a walk on the front.
It could have easily been me who made the call to Miss Pebmarsh,
easily me who killed that man.
I could have done it all. There's no proof that it wasn't.
I just needed time to think what to do.
But when I made my way back to work, I saw Nora was dead.
I knew I'd be blamed for that as well.
I left Dover this afternoon and wasn't gonna come back...
...which would've been bad.
Yes, it would.
You need to see the police and clear your name.
Yes, I know. You believe I'm innocent, don't you?
You believe it wasn't me.
I'm gonna get us both a drink.
There's glasses in the kitchenette.
These small ones?
Yes.
When did you get this?
I... When did you get it?
Colin, I...
I'm taking you with me to the police station now.
Now.
HARDCASTLE: Where did you get the murder weapon?
Alright. Where did you get the clock?
Unless I am mistaken, Inspector,
Mademoiselle Webb received the clock when she was a child
for her birthday...
or was it Christmas, perhaps?
When I was born.
The home told me it was a gift from my mother
who I never knew.
What are you talking about?
'Rosemary' is the first name of Mademoiselle Webb.
Is that not so, Mademoiselle RS Webb?
Y-yes.
Rosemary Sheila.
And yet you choose to use your second name, non?
May I continue?
Oui, bien sûr.
Pardon.
If the clock was yours, what was it doing at Miss Pebmarsh's house?
Alors, she does not know, Inspector, which is why she stole it.
(CLOCK RATTLES)
Ah, bon. The spring, it is broken, n'est-ce pas?
So it is possible that a few weeks previously,
you took it to the jewellers to have it repaired
and then, what, you lost it?
And the next time you see it, it is at number 19 Wilbraham Crescent.
And there is there a dead man. The police, they are everywhere.
And so you think to yourself,
"Why is someone trying to frame me for murder?"
And then you notice that all the clocks, they spell 4:13.
The number of the very room in the hotel
where, in your loneliness,
you have begun a love affair with a man who does not care for you.
And so you think to yourself, "Why is someone trying to expose my shame?"
And you do not know.
And the knife? I suspect you have never seen this before.
Or else, almost certainly, you would have got rid of it.
Inspector, may I ask a question? Of course.
Will you be answering it as well?
Mademoiselle,
when you returned from lunch on the day of the murder,
Mademoiselle Nora Brent, what was she doing?
Talking. Nora was always talking.
About what?
I strut off to lunch and the heel
snaps in a grate like a twig in a storm.
So now we make the progress.
And in which grate was it
did Mademoiselle Nora Brent break her shoe?
Yes, which was it? Let's bring the grate in for questioning, shall we?
Inspector, as you told to me only yesterday,
cannot you see the case that is building in front of you?
Not the case about the grate, no.
I don't know which grate it was, sir.
(CLEARS THROAT) She's here, Inspector.
Who's here?
One name came up five times in response to the newspapers.
Then the dead man's widow rings up
and says she wants to come in to identify the body.
His name's Harry Castleton.
Put this one back in the cell, Constable. This is far from over.
That's him.
That's Harry.
When's the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Castleton?
15 years ago.
And he wasn't much of a husband.
I don't even know if Castleton was his real name.
He said he was in insurance, but that was just a ruse
so that he could travel around and run scams on lonely women.
I gave him the heave-ho when I discovered that
he was engaged to that...
...schoolteacher, she was.
But by then, he had taken me for all my savings.
Did your husband have any distinguishing marks?
No. Yes, he did. Behind his left ear.
He cut himself shaving once.
Made a terrible mess in the sink.
Thank you for coming, Mrs Castleton.
I don't use that name now. My name is Rival. Merlina Rival.
It was my stage name before I ever met my husband
and I reverted to it the moment he disappeared.
This murder gets more complicated by the minute.
Mais oui. Which can only mean one thing, mon ami.
The solution, it must be very simple.
Where are you going?
I feel it is necessary to speak once again to the cat lady...
Madame Hemmings.
Why?
What an excitement, everybody!
The big French tom's paying us another visit.
I am Belgian, madame. Please sit yourself down.
Although you might find the sofa a little damp.
Tiddlypops is sometimes tiddly by name as well as by nature.
Would you like me to fold up a bath towel and put it on the seat?
The dampness takes time to seep through then, I find.
Madame, you told to me that in the garden the other evening,
you overheard hard words pass
between Monsieur Mabbutt and Mademoiselle Pebmarsh.
Yes? Why was that unusual?
Well, because he's never there.
And when he is, he's very polite... a lovely man.
It's that bad-tempered nanny
everyone usually has ding-dongs with.
Can you remember what was said?
You were there, weren't you, Copey?
PEBMARSH: We need to do it now, Mr Mabbutt.
MABBUTT: Not with them swarming all over the place, no.
It all will be wasted if we don't act now.
She was talking about her plants, I imagine...
the way those girls trample all over them.
And this discussion... did it take place
the evening after the body was discovered
in the sitting room of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
No, it was Wednesday,
because we'd all just enjoyed 'Bandwagon' on the wireless.
But it was Wednesday that the body was discovered.
No, Tuesday, thank you, yes,
because I noticed the laundry van pull up to her house at lunchtime.
The laundry always arrives on Tuesday.
Monsieur, hello!
Hello!
Hello.
Mrs Bland.
Ah, Madame Bland!
I hear on the jungle drums that you've identified the dead man.
Well, shall we say the police, they are confident.
That's wonderful! Yes, indeed.
Oh, tell to me if you please, madame,
from where in Canada are you?
It is simply that I have some friends in Montreal
and I wondered if you knew them.
Oh, not the French-speaking part, no.
Edmonton, it was. Alberta.
Ah! Je suis désolé. How foolish of me, eh?
Did you find that when you were coming over here,
everyone would say to you,
"I know someone in England... Newcastle. Please to say hello."
Oh, yes! People can be so silly. Oui!
But it was natural for me to settle in Dover,
because this is where my sister lives.
As well as meeting Joe here. But of course.
Well, I'll let you get on, monsieur,
but that's wonderful news about the identification.
Yes, indeed.
Madame.
(GIRLS GIGGLE)
We did what you asked. Did you want to come and see?
Oui.
Mademoiselle Jenny, Mademoiselle May,
tell to me what is it you have found.
Coins. Coins?
About 2 and 6. Ah, but that's very good!
And you found all this in the garden of Mademoiselle Pebmarsh?
But you haven't seen the best thing yet.
That was in our garden, not hers.
What is the best thing?
Ah! S'il te plaît. Merci.
(PHONE RINGS)
You may have known him under a name other than Castleton.
No, sir. No.
And he was putting pressure on you for money, maybe.
Maybe he was blackmailing... Sir, it's Poirot.
Hardcastle.
Inspector, it is a matter of urgency
that you dispatch but immediately a telegram to Somerset House.
It is also a matter of urgency
that I continue to interview my prime suspect,
so will you go away for 10 blinking minutes?
Non. And you must release Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
Release her? Oui.
It is evident to Poirot that she is not guilty.
But I will need her help to prove it.
Also, I will need to speak to her over the telephone
but immediately after I have given you instructions for Somerset House.
What is going on, Poirot?
I will tell to you everything that Poirot has discovered,
but you must promise to release Mademoiselle Sheila Webb
and act according to my instructions.
(SIGHS) Go on.
You must get Somerset House to verify the marriage record
of Harry Castleton to Mademoiselle Merlina Rival.
And you must also get them to verify something else for me.
This was Annabel Larkin's, I'm sure.
And this was discovered in Mabbutt's garden?
Also I learned from his daughters
that this afternoon he intends to travel to France.
You must prevent this.
No, you've got the wrong end of the stick.
Trawling through the histories of the neighbours, we found this.
The Waterhouses, with their perfect English name,
their perfect English voices,
are German.
They came over in 1936, from Munich.
They changed their name from Tuchman.
But of course they are German.
Did you not notice the slips in the way they spoke?
We like this street because it's quiet also.
The use of the word 'also' at the end of the sentence.
A mistake most common in even the most fluent German
when they speak English.
Why didn't you say?
Because they cannot be connected, Lieutenant.
Maybe they buried this in Mabbutt's garden to draw us...
Non, non, non.
Monsieur Mabbutt and Mademoiselle Pebmarsh were overheard
on the evening of the murder.
We need to do it now, Mr Mabbutt.
Not with them swarming all over the place, no.
It will all be wasted if we don't act now.
It was presumed that they were arguing about the children,
but, non, Poirot thinks not.
Poirot suspects that they were talking about
the police that were now in the neighbourhood
and the importance of getting the stolen documents
to their contact on the Continent.
Miss Pebmarsh? Consider this.
The note that was made by Mademoiselle Fiona
on the night she followed Larkin,
it would have been made in haste, huh?
A piece of paper pulled from her handbag, a scribble.
What does it mean?
Number 61... no-one knows what it means.
Exactement, mon ami. Exactement. So, if you please...
Perhaps Poirot is correct when he does this.
19 Wilbraham Crescent.
Mademoiselle Pebmarsh.
Can I ask you where you're going, please, Mr Mabbutt?
Why are you asking? Routine.
Well, I'm taking the Calais ferry in three-quarters of an hour
and have business in France for the next three days... good day.
Will you step over to the car, please, sir?
Just a minute of your time.
What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?
Bear with us, sir. I apologise for the inconvenience.
(BELL CLANGS, DOOR CLOSES)
Good afternoon.
Good afternoon, mademoiselle. It is I, Hercule Poirot.
And... what can I do for you, monsieur?
Eh bien, mademoiselle, I have reason to believe
that the Mademoiselle Nora Brent may have visited the studio here
to have a photograph taken with a gentleman.
And I wondered if I might take you up on your offer most kind
to have a look through your records.
Of course!
Not knowing the gentleman's name,
I suppose it would be best
if you were to start at the beginning of the alphabet
and work your way through.
Oui, d'accord.
Then you should begin here.
Merci.
Fine weather for a crossing today, sir.
How long is this going to take?
Just a few minutes more.
What have we here?
(GRUNTS)
Get off me!
Would you like a cup of tea, monsieur?
Non, non, non. Merci, mademoiselle.
I think I have found what I'm looking for.
Already? Oui.
I thought that the sweetheart of Mademoiselle Nora Brent
had a name at the beginning of the alphabet,
and... luck, it has struck!
(BELL CLANGS, DOOR CLOSES)
Millicent Pebmarsh, I'm Lieutenant Race of the Royal Navy,
and I'm arresting you under suspicion of high treason.
Would you please accompany me?
So let's have another one, then. Come on!
Mrs Rival.
Oh, hello.
I've said everything I had to say
and I'm back to London on the 2:15, so thanking you!
Chin-chin!
Can I ask when Harry Castleton cut himself shaving?
Well, I don't know when. When we were together.
15 years ago.
I told you I haven't seen him for 15 years. Didn't you take notes?
The police surgeon tells me it's a much more recent scar...
perhaps only two years old.
Well, I remember him doing it,
so your police surgeon is incorrect, Your Honour.
Mrs Rival, you know that perverting the course of justice
carries a maximum prison sentence of four years?
Which is why I don't do it.
Is this your correct address in London?
I believe it is, yes.
Good.
Ahh, Sheila. Nice to have you back.
I've been typing up some of the work
that Nora left unfinished on 'Naked Love'.
Now that you're back, perhaps you'd take it over.
Of course, Miss Martindale. Well, the manuscript's in my office.
Lunchtime, girls!
Quite an operation you had going here.
Larkin would steal the documents.
Pebmarsh would make a copy.
And Mabbutt would make a drop somewhere in France.
And all of you recruited by...
...the Waterhouses.
Non, Lieutenant. (SNICKERS) The Waterhouses?
You were doing quite well until you mentioned that scum.
(WHISPERS) Excuse me.
What are we doing here? Are we under arrest?
Why did you change your name from 'Tuchman' to 'Waterhouse'?
Why are you living in England under false identities?
Weil wir Juden sind.
What?
We are Jewish.
But this is England. Why are you disguising the fact you're Jewish?
You think that anti-Semitism doesn't exist here as well, Lieutenant?
This is our third English city in the last two years.
When you have lived through what we did in Munich, Lieutenant,
at the first sign of it, you move on.
All we want is to live our lives quietly, without threat,
without prejudice.
The irony is, Lieutenant, it's in our country's interests
to have peace with Germany
to stop the Communists creeping ever westward.
We are patriots who pass information to Hitler
because if Chamberlain's policy of appeasement doesn't hold
and someone like Churchill gets his hands on power,
we will be dragged into a war
a hundred times worse than the last one.
And in that scenario,
the quicker Germany knocks out a weak, liberal England,
the better for all Europe.
Or what would remain of Europe under the Nazis.
Monsieur, you have not seen your country overrun by foreign tyranny.
I have, and I tell you, monsieur,
that I value the "weak, liberal England" as you call it,
as a country well worth the fighting for.
But you won't do the fighting, will you, monsieur?
It'll be the young boys again.
And if I can save one life by keeping this country weak
so it cannot engage in war with Germany,
then I will be proud of what I've done.
Fiona Hanbury had a life.
I think people like that are called 'collateral', Lieutenant.
They die for a greater good.
Please stop!
The man found dead in Miss Pebmarsh's sitting room
also had a life, Mabbutt,
as did the secretary, Nora Brent.
No, sir, Monsieur Poirot and I don't believe
those deaths had anything to do with these people.
In fact, if we're correct, Inspector Hardcastle is at this moment
making an arrest in that murder investigation.
He practically put a black cap on his head and gave me four years.
I'm not gonna go to prison for four years... I won't do it! (SNIFFS)
Well, I want more money. More than the 200...
No, I want more.
Alright, I know where that is.
I'll meet you there. (SNIFFS)
Where do you think she's headed?
HARDCASTLE: Down to the seafront... if she can stay upright.
(BOTH LAUGH)
Can you see her? No.
Where'd she go?
(WOMAN SCREAMS) Sir!
(WOMAN SCREAMS)
So now we are all assembled.
What's this about, Inspector?
Mr Poirot would like a word.
Ah, but first, please, to sit down.
All of you, please. Mademoiselle Martindale, Monsieur et Madame Bland,
Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
I thank you all very, very much for coming here this evening.
We had little choice!
Oui.
This has been a puzzle most intriguing which has tested Poirot...
...but not found him wanting.
So first, if I may, let us take a look at the facts.
We have a telephone call made to the Cavendish Bureau
requesting the services of a secretary by name...
Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
A telephone call that nobody admits to making.
She arrives in a room full of clocks that nobody admits to owning,
but all of these clocks, they spell exactly the same time... 4:13.
Which has no significance.
She finds there a dead man
with an identification that is false
and who is impossible to trace because nobody knows him.
I hope you'll agree with me on these facts, Mademoiselle Martindale.
Yes!
Madame Bland?
I don't understand why myself and my husband have been summoned here.
All will become clear, madame.
Then we have the note most threatening
that was sent to Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
We have the second murder, that of the poor Nora Brent,
who was a colleague of Mademoiselle Webb,
and we have the identification définitif of the dead man
down to the scar behind his left ear...
a gentlemen who apparently was seen
in the hotel with Mademoiselle Sheila Webb,
a man who preyed on women who were vulnerable.
And then we have complication upon complication.
We have evidence that is totally circumstantial
that builds and builds into a wall of proof
against Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
But Poirot, he realises that in amongst this...
(SIGHS) what is the word for 'obscurcissement'?...
this dark cloud of muddle,
there is one fact that can be proved.
Is that not so, monsieur? Which is what?
Which is the eyewitness, Lieutenant Race,
who saw a woman so frightened, so bewildered,
that it was not possible for her to have committed murder.
It was the Lieutenant Race who also led Poirot to the solution
when he said of the note most threatening...
The only thing missing is that it's not written in blood.
Mes amis, there are moments for a detective when the light...
(SNAPS FINGERS)... it goes on.
Where had I heard before that expression?
A cheap thriller on the stage?
Exactement, mon ami! Exactement.
The word 'revenge' written in blood on his blotter!
Ah, là!
The cheap thriller, eh? The plots that are complicated.
The usual diet of the Cavendish Bureau of Mademoiselle Martindale.
And it made me to think of la pauvre Mademoiselle Nora Brent,
a young woman who was killed because...
...the heel of her shoe broke...
Fiddlesticks!
...20 yards from her place of work,
which meant that she returned early to her desk
in her lunch hour that day.
She knew that the telephone, it did not sound.
She knew that there was no telephone call from Mademoiselle Pebmarsh
requesting the services of the secretary Mademoiselle Sheila Webb.
I received the call from a Miss Pebmarsh at about 1:45,
during the lunch hour.
I don't see how what she said could be true.
Yes, thank you, madam.
What she said couldn't possibly be true!
So she had to be silenced.
(GASPS)
Is that not so, Mademoiselle Martindale?
That is ridiculous!
No more ridiculous than the cheap thrillers,
the plots that are complicated,
that you had spent your life working amongst.
Lunchtime, girls!
And it was at the instigation of Hercule Poirot
that Mademoiselle Sheila Webb, she made a search of the papers
of the estate of Garry Gregson
and she found this short story that Poirot, he remembered.
It is full of clocks, identifications that are false.
There is even a build-up of evidence to frame a person who is innocent,
who felt so implicated in a crime they did not commit
that they became frightened and irrational
and therefore... (HUFFS) ...more suspicious to the police.
It is all here, mademoiselle.
You could not even think of a plot of your own devising!
Oh, except... pardon... for the addition you made of the clock.
The 'Rosemary' clock that you stole
from the handbag of Mademoiselle Sheila Webb
when she took it to the jeweller's to be repaired... is that not so?
And then you frighten her with a number...
4:13, the time of the clocks,
but also the room in the hotel where Mademoiselle Sheila Webb
conducting her love affair that was to you all so shameful.
But she is not what she seems,
because for Mademoiselle Sheila Webb, her love, it was real.
Why would I want that man dead in Wilbraham Crescent, monsieur?
I didn't even know him.
Do you know what this is, Madame Bland?
It is the death certificate of the first Madame Bland.
Not you, but the woman from Canada...
the woman who inherited all of the money.
When the inheritance came through, Joe said no-one would know.
They didn't know his wife was dead, and all we had to do was...
Shut up, Val!
Shut up! (SHRIEKS)
HARDCASTLE: So, who is the dead man, Poirot?
I do not know, Inspector.
But as I told you before,
it is not important who he is
but who he is.
And Poirot suspects that he is a friend or relative
of the first Madame Bland,
who left Canada, came to this country to look her up.
This was a man who knew that the money had gone to the wrong woman,
a man who, if murdered, would become almost impossible to trace
for the police in England.
Madame Bland, you said something strange to Poirot.
It was natural for me to settle in Dover...
this is where my sister lives.
Your sister, Madame Bland.
Your sister who is as Canadian as you are.
When the letter from his wife's uncle arrived,
Joe said he and Kathy could work it out.
He could rig the old van up to look like the laundry.
Ah, yes, the laundry van that was seen to arrive by Madame Hemmings.
But it arrived on the wrong day... the Wednesday instead of the Tuesday.
Yes, you see, because they wanted to dump him at the blind woman's,
find a mark on his body and get Merlina to verify it.
Who you knew from your days in the theatre.
Come on in! This way.
(CANADIAN ACCENT) I hope this isn't an inconvenience.
Oh, not at all.
There, look... he has a scar behind his left ear.
(GRUNTS)
Kathy said she knew how to make it work,
that there was a young tart at the bureau who no-one would miss,
who would deserve it.
She said she'd set her up... it would be alright.
They said there would be no reason
for the body to be at the blind woman's house with Sheila Webb
and it would just confuse the police...
it would be confusion upon confusion,
complication upon complication.
Joe had worked so hard all his life for nothing,
and the money was so huge!
It was so huge!
(GROANS)
(GURGLES)
But they made me do it...
they made me put the knife into Sheila Webb's bag at the inquest.
If you'd like a cup of tea...
They made me press Merlina to come and lie,
to falsify the marriage and falsely identify the body,
and then, when she was scared,
to come to the seafront so they could kill her.
It was only going to be the one death.
It was only going to be the one!
Alright, madam. In the back.
Thank you.
Mademoiselle.
HARDCASTLE: Thank you, Mr Poirot.
And if you're staying in Dover tonight,
I'd very much like to stand you another pint.
Well, that is most kind of you, Inspector,
but it is tonight that I travel to London.
But if you should ever find yourself there,
if you please to look me up,
I will stand for you the cocktail.
Right. Pleasure to know you, sir.
Inspector.
Lieutenant.
Monsieur Colin, do I have to tell you to go after her?
No.
Then go after her.
I've only known you a few days.
And already it's like we've fallen in love,
married, had seven children,
divorced, met again under peculiar circumstances,
married, had a few more children,
divorced...
She must have hated me so much.
Shall we start again, Sheila?
Yes, please.
Let's start again.