Ow!

KNOCK AT DOOR Hello, darling.

Managed to slip away.

But I think I've sprained my bloody wrist.

Oh, John.

How's work?

Fine, thanks.

I'm doing a big abstract for the International Exhibition.

How's yours?

- Hm.

Might be making some progress with Ridgeway's disease.

I have a patient at Hammersmith Hospital.

A Mrs Crabtree.

She's a drayman's wife, I believe.

She's dying of Ridgeway's.

But... she's allowed me to try some new treatments on her.

By gum, she's got some spirit.

Poor, frightened old thing that she is.

And all I get from Gerda is, "Why are you out so late?"

Well, sometimes, you're with me.

Mm.

But all the time...

I'm married to Gerda.

It's what you wanted.

Isn't it?

Yes.

Will I see you this weekend?

Yes.

Are you going?

Yes.

Oh, that will be lovely.

Yes.

Henrietta, come here.

LUCY: Oh, it's all going to be a complete disaster.

It's always the same when I invite Gerda.

I wish I hadn't.

Oh...

But the worst thing about it is, she's so terribly nice.

Well, I mean, one has to have her, of course.

It would be so terribly rude to invite John without her.

On the other hand, it does seem so odd, doesn't it?

That someone as nice as Gerda should be so devoid of any kind of intelligence?

SHE GROANS I often think, if she had any spirit at all, she'd stay away.

Henrietta will help, of course.

It's strange how good Henrietta is with Gerda.

What are you talking about, Lucy?

The weekend is upon us, Midge.

The guests will be arriving any minute.

I'm just trusting to Henrietta to make conversation, because, well, John and Gerda... SHE CHUCKLES Oh, it's a nightmare!

John and Gerda!

Lucy, do you know what time it is?

Hm?

I'm sorry, darling.

I have absolutely no idea what time it is.

It's a quarter past six.

SHE GASPS Oh, Midge, I am sorry.

Why didn't you tell me?

Come, come, come.

Go back to beeboes.

Come on.

Night-night.

SHE SIGHS There you are, Mrs Smith.

Thank you very much, Dr Christow.

Goodbye.

Are you all right?

Hm, I'm tired.

A weekend in the country will make you feel better.

Yes.

Unfortunately, Gerda's driving.

- Victor.

- Mr Poirot, sir.

Have a good trip?

Without incident, thank you.

Victor... Victor, what is that smell?

Smell?

I can't smell nothing, sir.

Just good country air.

The telephone number's on the pad in the surgery.

Call me if there's trouble.

There will be no trouble, Doctor.

Goodbye, children!

- Bye, Daddy.

- Be good.

ENGINE SPUTTERING It won't start!

Switch on the ignition, Gerda.

ENGINE STARTS I'm so stupid.

I'm sorry.

Let's just get there, shall we?

I wish we could stay at home.

The Angkatells frighten the life out of me.

Bye, children!

- Bye, Mummy.

- Bye, Daddy.

GEARS GRATING Weather's set fair for the weekend.

Everything's spick-and-span at the cottage.

The wife's seen to that.

I am sure I shall be most comfortable.

Be a relief, I expect.

Escape the fumes and stink up London.

ENGINE REVS VICTOR GASPS Mille tonnerres!

Why must you spend so many hours at the hospital when you have a perfectly good surgery at home?

It's research, Gerda, research, as I've explained before.

Why are you slowing?

- It might be about to turn red.

But it isn't, is it?

It's green.

- Oh, sorry.

I, er... GERDA: I just become convinced that it's going to... Oh... HORN HONKING ENGINE SPUTTERING MAN: Get out of the way!

MAN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY Oh, God, Gerda!

Come on.

Get a move on!

HONKING CONTINUES ENGINE SPUTTERING HORN BLARES LUCY: Gudgeon!

Hello, Midge!

Great to see you.

What a gorgeous car!

It's a Lagonda.

Goes like the wind.

Oh, thank you, Gudgeon.

- Hello, Lucy.

- Henrietta!

Wonderful to see you!

Well, I suppose in the time you've taken this magnificent steed of yours around to the stable, give it a rubdown and a nose bag, lunch might be ready.

BOTH LAUGH Who's coming?

The Christows.

And Edward's arriving after lunch.

Oh, good.

VICTOR: Looks like you'll have some company, Mr Poirot.

Somebody's taken the cottage next door.

Mr Poirot!

Enchante, madame.

Everything is beautiful, as usual.

But tell me, someone has taken up residence in Dovecotes?

WOMAN: Yes, sir.

A lady.

An actress, they say.

- Oh.

BOTH LAUGH How's the dreaded dress shop?

Bloody awful!

- Hello, there.

MIDGE: Edward!

Hello, Midge.

Hello, Henrietta.

Parfait.

But tell me, Madame Simms... ..what is this, hm?

I did not expect any mail to this address.

It's from Lady Angkatell at The Hollow.

Pour ce soir.

How are things at Ainswick, Edward?

Is it just as lovely as ever?

Why don't you come and see?

SHE LAUGHS You're always welcome.

Any time.

Any time at all.

You are sweet.

And Ainswick is the best place in the world.

Do you remember our special tree?

Yggdrasil, the secret sign we used to draw everywhere.

Fancy a breather?

Oh, my God!

Yggdrasil!

Who drew that?

You did.

So, what have you been doing since I saw you last?

Nothing.

That sounds peaceful.

You could find peace... at Ainswick with me.

I wish I wasn't so dreadfully fond of you, Edward.

It makes it so much harder to go on saying no.

What you really mean is, you won't marry me because of John Christow.

Why doesn't the fellow get a divorce?

- Because... - That's it, isn't it?

If there were no John Christow in the world... ..you'd marry me.

MIDGE: 'I used to spend my holidays 'with Edward at Ainswick.'

It seemed so vast.

LUCY: Fourteen thousand acres is bound to be vast, Midge.

Oh, how I miss it.

Why didn't you inherit it, Lucy?

Midge, you know very well girls don't inherit.

It's the way the world works.

Edward isn't even my cousin.

He's my first cousin once removed.

But he's still entailed.

Ainswick falls like ripe fruit, plop, in his lap.

Aren't you remotely bitter about that?

Of course not.

I've invited that crime fella for dinner.

Er...

I'm sorry?

That's why I was in your bedroom so early this morning.

I had this premonition, you see, that we'd all be at each other's throats at dinner.

So, him being here just could be a distraction.

What crime man, Lucy?

He was in Baghdad when Henry was High Commissioner.

He stays in one of those funny little cottages down the lane.

I remember he wore this pink flower in his buttonhole, and he was solving something.

I can't quite remember what, mind.

Then, of course, I'm not terribly interested in who killed whom.

I mean, once you're dead, you're dead!

It doesn't matter why, does it?

GEARS GRIND GERDA: I'm no good at anything.

I don't know why you ever married me.

You needed taking care of.

That's why I married you.

I try to be a good wife, John.

This may not be the best time to tell you, but... You know I love you, don't you?

Of course, old girl, but I have to warn you... No-one else.

Just you.

You'll never make it up Shovel Down in third.

GEARS GRIND GEARS GRIND LOUD GUNSHOTS Very fair shooting, Edward!

Now, then, your turn, Henrietta.

See if you could kill a burglar.

MIDGE: Well done!

- No, you only winged him.

JOHN: Hello, everyone.

- Hello, Henry.

Ah, it's the Christows!

Hello.

Sorry we're late.

Not at all, not at all.

Just in time for a spot of target practice.

Nice to see you, John.

Now, then, Gerda, come along.

Try and put one in the bull's-eye.

- Oh, well, I've never tried.

- Hello, darling.

Darling.

I think you may have met Midge Hardcastle?

Yes, of course.

And of course, you know my second cousin, Edward.

- How do you do, Edward?

- Hello, John.

- What's going on?

- Henry's got the artillery out.

Has he, indeed?

SHE LAUGHS HENRY: And you're ready for shooting?

Right.

Fire away.

Just keep it steady.

Really squeeze the trigger.

That's it.

I sprained my bloody wrist.

Careful.

- Bad luck.

- Did I miss?

I bet I missed!

My turn, is it?

Gerda!

How lovely to see you.

Thank you, Henry.

Come along, Gudgeon.

- Ha-ha!

- I say!

Lucy!

That's nothing.

Once, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, I was jumped by a couple of thugs.

We were rolling about in the dirt, we were, and before I knew it, she'd shot one in the leg and one in the stomach.

How she didn't hit me, God alone knows.

It's quite simple.

You do it very quickly, and you don't think about it, Henry!

ALL LAUGH Oh, Zena's at ballet class now.

Point shoes, the lot.

Ah!

And Terence?

Chemistry.

Always trying to blow things up.

He's planning to make nitroglycerine while we're away.

SHE LAUGHS Don't tell John, though.

Oh, I shan't.

And you?

Oh, I've taken up leather craft.

Do you like this?

I made it.

Ah...

It's so nice talking to you.

But I suppose it'll soon be time for dinner.

Gerda... why do you come here if you hate it so much?

I want John to be happy.

He could come without you.

No.

He wouldn't like that.

He wouldn't enjoy it without me.

He said so.

John is awfully unselfish.

I'd rather stay at Harley Street, to be frank, but he thinks it's good for me to get out into the country.

Oh, the country's all right.

No need to throw in the Angkatells.

BOTH LAUGH We're an odious family.

Come on.

Let's go in and get changed.

There's some sort of detective coming, apparently.

ALL LAUGHING You wouldn't have believed it.

Monsieur Poirot has abilities that one has to say are quite phenomenal.

Oh, it's true, absolutely true.

The talk of Baghdad, they were, Monsieur Poirot and his little green cells.

Grey, madame.

Oh!

Pardon me!

No, but we're so awfully fortunate to have him as a neighbour.

I mean, in case anything went wrong.

INDISTINCT CHATTER Would you give it all up, if I asked you to, and come and live with me?

No.

No?

It's not really what you want.

Couldn't you lie to me just once?

Why?

Because I love you, Henrietta.

Yet you're so...

Damn it all.

You're so detached.

Your art, your cars, your friends.

I want you to think only of me.

Isn't that what Gerda does?

Don't tell me you care a damn about Gerda.

Why not?

I like Gerda.

INDISTINCT CHATTER - Dinner, my lady.

- Oh, thank you, Gudgeon.

Please, Monsieur Poirot, come this way.

Merci.

Has anyone seen John?

JOHN LAUGHS MIDGE: Well, the customers are awful.

One puts up with far more insolence in a dress shop than Gudgeon or Simms or any decent domestic does here.

It must be absolute hell, darling.

But does one have to be so proud?

- Merci.

- I mean, earning one's own living is not the be-all and end-all of everything, is it?

Well, it's all about self-esteem, surely.

Well, you'd be the expert on that.

So, how do you do it then, Monsieur Poirot?

I beg your pardon, mademoiselle?

Solve so many crimes.

HE CHUCKLES SOFTLY Merely, I apply the process of the thought logique, and once the process, it has been applied, then, alors, the mystery, it becomes eclaire, and... the criminal mind, it is uncovered.

But that assumes that you are cleverer than the criminal, doesn't it?

I am not sure that it does, mademoiselle, logically.

Oh, I think it does.

What happens if you come across one who is cleverer than you are yourself?

This is not the highest probability, mademoiselle!

ALL LAUGH - Have you ever been to... JOHN: Careful, sir.

Henrietta has a very sharp tongue.

INDISTINCT LAUGHTER After dinner, we usually play games.

Charades, perhaps, or Flip The Kipper.

But tonight, I think it would be most appropriate if we were to essay the Murder Game.

Lucy, don't you think Monsieur Poirot would be rather bored?

Someone has to pretend to be dead, murdered, and then we all have to find out who did it.

It's such fun!

And it usually turns out to be Gudgeon!

POIROT: Lady Angkatell, it is a proposition that is most delightful, but I am one who retires early to his bed.

- Oh... - Your dinner, it was superb.

Mademoiselle...

..I hope that we shall resume our conversation at another time.

I'd like that, Monsieur Poirot.

Sir Henry, an evening that was most delightful.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

I know.

You must come to lunch tomorrow.

Oh, yes!

He must, mustn't he?

Ah, but pardon.

Tomorrow, I am engage.

Nonsense.

There's absolutely nothing to do around here for miles and miles and miles!

No, no.

I insist you come to Sunday lunch.

Henry, tell him, I do not take kindly to being disobeyed.

Be very pleased to have you, old man.

Eh bien.

It will be my pleasure to attend.

LUCY: Thank you.

Bonne nuit.

- Night.

- Good night.

LUCY: Good night.

- Good night.

Ace of diamonds.

Why on earth did you lead that diamond, Gerda?

Oh.

I... Was it wrong?

Don't be absurd.

She had to lead the diamond.

Only sane thing to do.

Game and rubber.

Well done.

- Did we win?

- A lucky finesse.

You cheated.

Was it obvious?

So that Gerda would win.

Honesty means nothing to you, does it?

Good evening.

Who the devil are you?

Veronica Cray, Sir Henry.

Please, please forgive me for barging in upon you like this.

I'm in the dinky little house up the lane.

And I've had the most frightful catastrophe.

Please, come on in.

Henry, close the window.

What's happened?

I have run out of matches, on a Saturday night, and I smoke like a chimney, truly.

I feel a complete fool, but there's not a match to be had at Dovecotes, so I've come to beg some from my only neighbours within miles and... Oh, my God!

Hello, Veronica.

My God, it's John Christow!

Matches, was it?

This is too, too extraordinary!

HENRY: Do you know each other?

We did... a long time ago.

VERONICA: Yes, John is an old friend.

Why, he was the first guy I was ever in love with!

Midge, would you kindly ring the bell?

I thought you were just wonderful.

And weren't we heart-rendingly in love?

Veronica, this is my wife.

Lovely to meet you.

Ah, Gudgeon.

Tell me, do we have plenty of matches in the house?

A dozen boxes came today, my lady.

Excellent.

Would you kindly get six?

- Very good, my lady.

And, um, how do you like Dovecotes?

Oh, I adore it.

It's so cute.

So close to London, and yet one feels so gloriously isolated.

We... kind of lost touch when I went to California, didn't we?

- You've been to California?

- Oh, I live there actually.

Just popped over to do a little play.

One has to keep one's hand in, say hello to Shaftesbury Avenue, all that.

VERONICA LAUGHS Oh, my dear Lady Angkatell!

Surely, not all these?

LUCY: Oh, we have plenty in the house.

Besides, I always think it's rather tiresome, only having one of a thing.

Don't you?

Well, this is very kind of you.

Thank you.

Will you see me back to my cottage?

I want dreadfully to know what you've been up to in the years and years and years since I've seen you.

I'm so sorry to have bothered you in this pathetic way.

Good night, Lady Angkatell.

Night-night.

That was Veronica Cray.

Yes, indeed!

We must catch one of her pictures, Henry.

If that little performance is anything to go by, why, we will certainly get our money's worth.

INDISTINCT CHATTER VERONICA LAUGHS You are just incorrigible!

No, it's not true.

It's not.

It is true.

BOTH LAUGH Come on, John.

Come on.

BIRD SCREECHES What time is it?

Er... I-I've no idea.

Sorry to wake you.

I had to go in for a drink with the woman.

Oh.

Good night, John.

Good night.

Morning.

- Morning.

- Morning.

We're shooting after breakfast.

Might bag a few pigeon.

Want to come?

No, thanks.

I feel a bit shattered... to be honest.

- For me?

- It came this morning, sir.

HE CHUCKLES We have to talk about our future.

I'm...

I'm sorry?

Our future, John.

We've wasted 12 years.

I'm not going back to the States.

I'm going to make my life here with you.

HE CHUCKLES SOFTLY You've, erm... you've got this... ..taped out all wrong.

We had quite a time together last night, but Veronica, you know, our lives are completely divergent.

I mean, when we split up, 12 years ago, well, that was just it, we split up.

We didn't split up.

You ditched me.

I was your fiancee, and you ditched me.

I couldn't go with you to Hollywood.

I had to finish med school.

Of course, so you could be a doctor.

Well, you can go on being a doctor.

I won't mind.

My dear girl, I'm married.

I have children.

SHE LAUGHS You know... SHE CLEARS THROAT I'm married myself at the moment.

It's nothing that a good divorce lawyer can't fix.

Oh, John, I always did want to be your wife.

You see, I have this passion... ..this overpowering passion.

We have to be together.

No!

That is not going to happen!

- But last night... - Last night?

Look, you're not a child.

Last night was a one-off.

Are you saying you don't love me?

You are a very, very alluring woman, Veronica, but I don't love you, no.

I came all this way to find you, waiting in this ghastly hovel for the weekend you'd appear.

You see, I knew that if we could be... just once more together, just once more... You... You planned it?

Well, you belong to me, John.

You're mine.

Hm...

When I was a young man, I wanted you to share my life, and you wouldn't do it.

Well, because my career was so much more important than yours.

I mean, anyone can be a doctor.

- You're a nasty piece of work.

- You leave me again, and I really will make you sorry!

So be it.

Goodbye.

I hate you more than I thought I could hate anyone!

SHE GRUNTS, GLASS SHATTERS GUN FIRING FIRING CONTINUES HE SIGHS GUN COCKS Good day, sir.

Lady Angkatell would like you to come to the pavilion, sir, for a glass of sherry.

Out of doors?

Would you care to follow me, sir?

Merci.

My lady... POIROT: I see that you are playing the Murder Game.

Alors... Tres bien.

I congratulate you all.

Henrietta...

HE GROANS Allow me, my lady.

- Give that to me, Gerda.

- Mademoiselle, do not... Poirot?

What's happened?

Gerda has mur...

I mean, John... John has been shot.

He's dead.

Isn't really my line, murder.

No, but the procedure, it has been followed quite correctly.

And until the police arrive, all we can do is to ensure that the body, it is undisturbed, and that nobody tampers with the evidence.

Hm.

It's a... it's a... it's a bit chilly.

Be all right if we wait in the pavilion, wouldn't it?

Oui.

Bien sur, oui.

Bien sur.

- I can offer you a sherry.

- Oh, no, no, no.

Merci.

I think it best not to touch.

- I suppose we can smoke.

- Oui.

Oh, no, no, no.

Merci.

Very able fellow, Christow.

Very able.

Er... slightly... ..too able, if you take my meaning.

I just don't know what to do about lunch.

It seems so heartless to be sitting around a table stuffing oneself as though nothing had happened.

Don't worry on my account, Lucy.

Oh, bless you, dear Edward.

But say what you will, murder is a very awkward thing.

It upsets the servants so.

Puts the whole routine out.

And worst of all, it was duck for lunch.

My very, very favourite.

SHE GASPS Midgy-moo, what about Gerda?

Oh, perhaps something on a tray would be good.

I've placed sandwiches and some coffee in the dining room, my lady.

Oh, Gudgeon, thank you.

Gudgeon really is a jewel, you know.

Proper, substantial sandwiches are just as good as lunch.

And there's nothing remotely heartless about them, if you know what I mean.

Oh, Lucy, don't.

It's all so awful.

Oh, Midge.

Don't cry, little Midge.

- That'll do.

- Good.

HENRY: Monsieur Poirot, this is Inspector Grange.

I expect you've heard of Monsieur Poirot.

I most certainly have.

- Inspector.

May I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods?

Well, I visit this "neck of the woods", Inspector, for the weekends.

My friends persuaded me to purchase a cottage, it is the second one, that way, along the lane.

Are you fond of the countryside, are you, sir?

The paysage is most agreeable.

Except that the trees have this untidy habit of dropping their leaves.

HENRY LAUGHS That path leads... to the lane, you say?

- Oui.

And that path leads to the farm?

That's the way Lady Angkatell came.

Edward Angkatell and Miss Savernake came out of the woods separately, and they were standing there and there?

Oui.

It was like a "mise en scene" from the theatre.

MIDGE SOBBING I've given Gerda some brandy.

Oh, how thoughtful of you, Henrietta.

Yes, I always remember we were given brandy for shock when I was a little girl at Ainswick.

Though, of course, I suppose it's not exactly shock with Gerda, is it?

I mean...

Personally, I don't know how one would feel if one had murdered one's husband, but it wouldn't exactly be shock, would it?

I mean, that means there would've been no element of surprise.

Why are you so sure that Gerda killed John?

It seems self-evident.

Why?

What else do you suggest?

Isn't it possible that Gerda came along to the pool, found John lying there, and had just picked up the revolver when we came on the scene?

Well... is this what Gerda says?

Yes.

Oh.

Well... fortunately, duck is quite pleasant cold.

I couldn't lie down any longer.

I still can't believe that it's real.

That John is dead.

Who could have killed him?

Who could possibly have killed John?

DOOR OPENS This is my wife, Inspector Grange.

GRANGE: Lady Angkatell.

I was hoping to have a word with Mrs Christow.

Well, there she is.

- Mrs Christow?

- Yes.

I'm Gerda Christow.

I should just like to ask you a few...

He was a wonderful doctor.

So kind.

So unselfish.

The best of husbands.

Who could have wanted to kill him?

What exactly happened, Mrs Christow?

It was all so sudden.

I went out from the house, and along the path to the swimming pool.

What time was this?

About two minutes to one.

I noticed the clock.

And when I got there... ..there was John, lying there.

And... blood.

- Did you hear a shot?

- Yes.

No.

Oh, I don't know.

Sir Henry and Edward were out shooting.

I just... saw John and blood and a revolver, and... and I picked up the revolver... Why?

- I beg your pardon?

- Why did you pick it up?

I don't know.

Shouldn't I have?

So, you have decided that Madame Christow shot her husband?

Yes, well, don't you think she did it?

It could have happened as she said.

Yes, could have, but it's a very thin story.

HE CHUCKLES Well, they all think she did it.

And you thought she'd done it, didn't you?

When you first arrived on the scene.

I am not sure what I thought.

Something was not exactement as it should have been.

GRANGE: Here.

What's that?

Looks like leather work, sir.

- Oh, right.

- Sir, we've got the weapon.

GRANGE: Go ahead.

Pick it up.

It's been in the pool.

Destroyed any fingerprints there might have been on it.

Yes, it comes from my collection.

It's my hobby, Inspector.

GRANGE: When did you last see this one?

Yesterday afternoon.

We were doing some target practice.

And who actually fired the gun on that occasion?

I think we all had at least one shot with it.

- Including Gerda Christow?

- Including Gerda Christow.

And after the shooting, it was over?

I put the firearm back in its usual place.

Will Sir Henry be requiring a late supper, my lady?

There is some duck left over.

Ah, no, Gudgeon.

He's driving Mrs Christow up to London as we speak.

He'll be staying at his club.

Oh, Gudgeon, about those eggs.

I meant to write the date on them, as per usual, but well, because of the kerfuffle, could you kindly ask cook?

I've seen to it myself, my lady.

Oh, bless you, Gudgeon.

MIDGE: Do you think Gerda will be all right?

Oh, yes.

She'll probably send for some old school friend of hers.

She... she's probably got three or four.

I can just see them, you know, strapping, hockey-playing types from Tunbridge Wells.

What extraordinary things you do say, Lucy.

Very well.

Eastbourne and lacrosse, if you insist.

I wonder if there are any left.

School friends?

No.

Policemen.

Don't they normally leave one hovering in the hall?

Or outside, peeking behind a bush, watching the door, in case another murder is committed in the night?

Oh, Lucy, don't.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

How stupid of me.

Of course, Gerda's on her way back to London.

Oh, dear.

I...

I didn't mean...

Tomorrow, I think it's best if you telephone the shop, you know.

Just tell them about the inquest.

Just say you're staying on here for a few days.

I haven't said anything, but... you do know how sorry I am?

SHE SCOFFS Sorry?

That John Christow's gone?

You didn't like John.

He and I hadn't much in common.

You had me in common.

Henrietta, for God's sake, no need to be like that.

What did you think I'd be like?

Did you think I'd sit and cry into a pocket handkerchief while you held my hand?

You're nice enough, Edward, but honestly... ..you are... ..inadequate.

TELEPHONE RINGING Hello?

Yes.

Monsieur Poirot, we could use your brains.

Join us, would you?

POIROT: Bon.

HE CLEARS THROAT So... ..which of the ladies did this wrap belong to?

I take it, sir, you are referring to the cape of arctic fox?

I noticed it yesterday when I took the sherry out to the pavilion, but it is not the property of anyone in this establishment, sir.

Well, whose is it, then?

It might possibly belong to Miss Cray, the motion-picture actress.

She paid a visit after dinner the night before last, for the purpose of borrowing some matches, sir.

Did she take away six boxes?

That is correct, sir.

Servants, they're the devil, aren't they?

Still, Sir Henry identified the gun, which means that all Mrs Christow had to do was to get it from the study.

Don't you agree?

And her motive?

What is that?

Motive?

Jealousy, I'd say.

La jalousie.

Peut-etre.

Well, you know these fancy doctors.

He was probably giving one of his rich lady patients a good seeing-to!

HE CHUCKLES Lady Angkatell mentioned some trouble with a nurse, but she was a bit vague.

Yes, she would be vague.

I'm taking the train up to London.

Dropping into Harley Street.

Do you care to join me?

I don't remember any quarrels, no.

Mrs Christow was devoted to her husband.

Quite slavishly so.

- Tyrannical, was he?

- No.

But he was what I would call a selfish man.

He took it for granted that Mrs Christow would always fall in with his ideas.

You organised his appointments, Miss Collins.

Any difficulty with patients?

Lady patients.

He had an excellent manner with patients.

Yes, but any, erm... hanky-panky?

Certainly not.

What about Mademoiselle Veronica Cray?

Veronica Cray?

Well, we believe she was a friend of Dr Christow.

- Do you mean the actress?

- Oui.

I'd no idea he knew her.

Have you any theories as to who might have killed Dr Christow?

Absolutely none at all, Inspector.

When the body was discovered, Madame Christow was standing beside it with a revolver in her hand.

Look, I don't know who you are, but if you think Gerda Christow killed her husband, you are categorically wrong.

KNOCK AT DOOR WOMAN: It's the Inspector, Mrs Christow.

Oh, thank you, Collie.

- Good afternoon.

- My friend Elsie.

I mean, Mrs Patterson.

Ma'am.

This is Monsieur Poirot.

Have you found out who killed him?

Er, no.

Not yet, ma'am.

Was it you, Mrs Christow?

ELSIE: That's unfair.

Why must you persecute the poor woman?

Can't you see... - Excusez-moi.

But perhaps Madame Christow would prefer to speak for herself.

It was not me.

No.

It is a hard thing to kill the one you love, n'est-ce pas?

A very hard thing, I should imagine.

I couldn't do it.

TRAIN WHISTLE TRILLS Ballistics report, sir.

I thought you'd want it right away.

Have a look at that, Poirot.

Merci, madame.

GRANGE: So, the ballistics report proves that the gun in the pool was not the one that killed John Christow.

Now, I've spoken to Sir Henry.

He says that there is a gun missing from his collection, a .38 Smith & Wesson.

Brown holster.

I think this whole thing could be a frame-up set to implicate Gerda Christow.

But if that were so... ..why not leave the right revolver lying by the body?

She might not have picked it up.

And it is possible, Inspector, that the murderer might be someone who wanted to kill Dr Christow, but did not want to implicate Gerda Christow.

Hm.

Well, they're going a funny way about it.

I mean, we suspected her right from the start.

Oui, mon ami.

Very swiftly you suspected her.

Oh, now, look, Poirot.

You were an eyewitness.

You saw everything.

Mm, I saw.

But the eye as a witness is most unreliable.

Sometimes, the eyes, they see what they are meant to see.

Are you saying it was arranged?

Oh, there was something about the tableau of the people around the pool.

It was false, and I cannot place my finger on what.

'There were three people.

'Lady Angkatell, Monsieur Edward Angkatell, 'and Henrietta Savernake.'

Henrietta... 'And any one of these three people 'could have shot Dr Christow before Madame Christow arrived, 'could have retreated up one of the paths 'and turned around and returned.'

Blimey!

You're right.

But there is also another possibility, Inspector.

Someone could have come along the path from the lane, then fired a shot... ..and gone back the same way.

You're dead right.

And that could have been Miss Veronica Cray.

Crime of passion, bingo.

- You have interviewed her?

- Yes, I have.

Christow went to visit her that morning.

They had a fight.

I spoke to the maid.

Yeah.

Cray said to him, "I hate you more "than I ever thought I could hate anyone."

That is interesting.

And it was her fur coat in the pavilion?

Yes, it was.

She must have left it there when she went in to borrow the matches.

- But I do not believe she went there to borrow the matches.

She could have had the matches from me.

Saved a walk.

No, no, no.

She was nervous, on account of you being foreign.

Eh bien.

Sante.

Oh, sante.

You know something about human nature, don't you?

I know a little about human nature.

Inspector Grange has got it into his head that I quarrelled with John Christow on the day he died.

And did you?

I hadn't seen John for 12 years.

But the real truth is so fantastic that I'm certain a guy like Grange won't believe it.

But I think you might understand.

I am flattered, mademoiselle.

Actually, I'm married.

Madame.

Twelve years ago, John was very much in love with me.

Even obsessively so.

Wanted me to give up acting, give up having a life of my own.

Even a mind of my own.

Oh, he was so possessive and domineering.

I felt I couldn't go through with it, and I broke off the engagement.

I'm afraid he took that rather hard.

When we came back here on Saturday night, the whole thing blew up again.

He went mad.

Quite literally, mad.

He wanted to leave his wife and children.

He wanted me to divorce my husband.

He wanted us to get back together.

He'd carried a torch for me, all these years.

Oh, we argued and argued, and in the end, I had to send him back to The Hollow.

Next morning, he returned.

I told him it was impossible.

He insisted.

I said I didn't love him.

I could never love him.

And I begged him not to ruin my life a second time.

I had to be brutal.

Yes, I...

..I did say that I hated him... ..so we parted in anger and... TEARFULLY: ..now he's dead.

It is... a tragedy.

Oh, undoubtedly.

Do you think I should say any of this at the inquest?

I mean, his wife...

I cannot see that it has any bearing on the inquest.

It is private.

Mmm.

And perhaps it should remain so.

Got something out of the kitchen maid, sir, Simmons.

She says that on Sunday afternoon she saw the butler walk across the hall with a revolver in his hand.

I'm very sorry, sir.

I suppose I ought to have mentioned the occurrence.

At about 5.30pm, I noticed a revolver lying upon the hall table.

I picked it up and brought it in here.

It had been on the shelf, so I replaced it where it belonged.

Which one, Gudgeon?

Er...

This one, sir.

But that is not a revolver.

That is an automatic pistol.

I'm very sorry, sir.

I'm afraid I'm not fully cognisant with firearms.

Sir Henry, I'll have it checked for fingerprints.

Oh, I doubt there will be any fingerprints, sir.

Why not?

Because I polished it with my handkerchief before replacing it, sir.

Why the devil did you do that?

I fancied it might be dusty, sir.

LUCY: Oh!

How nice to see you, Monsieur Poirot.

But, oh, dear me, there's a poor girl in the kitchen, simply sobbing her heart out.

What have you been telling them about a pistol, Gudgeon?

SHE CLICKS TONGUE Never mind.

It doesn't matter.

I'll explain everything.

You may go.

Dear, poor Gudgeon, you know.

He tries so hard to protect us from any kind of trouble or annoyance.

It's really quite feudal here, you know.

But he didn't find the pistol in the hall at all.

No, no, no, no.

He found it when he took out the eggs.

Eggs?

What eggs?

Well, you see, I went down to the farm to collect the eggs.

I put the pistol in the egg basket, and then I put the new eggs on top of the pistol.

When I came back and saw John laying there, well... unwell...

I sort of had a bit of a shock and almost dropped the lot.

But dear, sweet Gudgeon, as per usual, sprang to my rescue.

And later on, I wanted to write the date on the eggs.

Otherwise, you see, you tend to eat the fresher eggs before the older ones, and that simply will not do.

And then Gudgeon told me he had taken care of everything.

And which pistol was that, Lady Angkatell?

That was the Mauser .25.

And why did you put it into the basket?

Oh, I knew you were going to ask me that, Monsieur Poirot!

Of course, I...

I must have had a reason.

Mustn't I, Henry?

- Er...

I mean, there must have been some idea whirring about in my head, in order for me to have put the Mauser into the egg basket in the first place.

My wife is... extremely... absent-minded.

Sir Henry, if I may ask you a question.

How many people in general know that the police can identify a gun by the little marks on the bullet, the marks on the rifle, even.

Oh, I think that's pretty well common knowledge nowadays, Poirot.

DOG BARKING I was just taking the dog for a walk.

I love peeking in people's houses.

Do you mind if I take a look?

Certainly, mademoiselle.

Enter, if you please.

I...

I would be most grateful, however, if the dog might be kept outside.

DOG BARKING IN DISTANCE How beautifully tidy.

You'd hate my studio.

There's clay all over the place, and glaze and paint pots.

Oh, but I understand.

You are an artist.

Aren't you an artist, too, Monsieur Poirot?

HE CHUCKLES On the whole, I would say... ..no.

I have known crimes that were artistic, supreme exercises of the imagination, but the solving of them, no.

No, the creative power is not what is needed.

What is required is a passion for the truth.

And once you have the truth, once you have knowledge, is that enough?

Or do you have to go a step further and translate knowledge into action?

Why did you come here, Mademoiselle Savernake?

As I said, I was taking the dog for a walk.

It is odd that I have not noticed a dog on my visits to the Angkatells.

Ah.

That might be because they haven't got one.

I borrowed the gardener's.

I don't actually like animals much.

Dogs, horses.

Horrible, smelly things.

SHE SIGHS I'm not, Monsieur Poirot, terribly truthful.

No.

But I think that you have integrity.

The inquest is tomorrow.

Is it necessary, do you think, that the police should know that I was John Christow's mistress?

You were lovers?

I do not think that the police will have any difficulty in discovering this.

I suppose not.

Why should Gerda bear the added burden?

She adored John, and now he's dead.

I didn't break up his married life.

I was one of a procession, along with Veronica Cray and all the others.

- Ah, so he was like that?

- No.

He was a noble man.

A fine man.

He was doing vital research into a debilitating disease.

It's called Ridgeway's.

There's no known cure.

He'd been working on it night and day for months.

SHE SIGHS His curiosity... his determination... Oh, I wish I could make you understand.

But I do understand.

- Really?

- Hm.

You mentioned Veronica Cray.

She also was a friend of Dr Christow?

They were engaged to be married 12 years ago.

Were they?

Look, I'll make it simple.

Veronica was, and is, a bitch of the first water.

She wanted John to give up medicine and go and live with her in California.

So, he broke off the engagement and subsequently married Gerda.

He had a number of affairs, which Gerda knew nothing about... ..but he never really got over Veronica.

And last Saturday night, they met... ..for the first time in 12 years.

He went out to see her home... ..and he returned to The Hollow at 3am.

Yes.

How do you know?

The housemaid had the toothache.

Lucy has far too many servants.

And how is it that you know?

I was watching out of my window.

The toothache, mademoiselle?

Quite another kind of ache, Monsieur Poirot.

If you see me with a pistol in my hand, Simmons, the proper thing to do is to come to me and say, "Mr Gudgeon, would you be so kind "as to give me an explanation?"

Hm?

- Yes, Mr Gudgeon.

The improper thing to do is to go babbling to the police.

That is common.

SHE SOBS Now where would Her Ladyship be if we all ran around doing things like that, hm?

Lucy, why did you take the pistol?

Hm?

I'm not entirely sure, Henry.

I do recall, though, waking up that morning, with some sort of premonition that there might, just might, be some kind of an accident.

Accident?

Who might have had an accident?

Well, obviously, John Christow.

I mean, one does feel awfully sorry, of course, and one does tend to blame oneself... Good God, Lucy!

Oh, Henry.

Oh, Henry.

Oh, Henry, I am so dreadfully worried about Ainswick.

If Edward never marries, and he won't, you know, if Henrietta turns him down, it'll all die out.

It will.

They'll break it up and sell it off in little, tiny pieces.

Lucy.

Does it really, honestly matter?

Of course it matters.

Ainswick is my home.

It's all our land.

No.

Somebody had to get rid of him.

Lucy, you didn't.

Don't be such a fool.

Do you really believe for one moment that I would have shot him?

I invited him here, Henry.

One doesn't ask guests down for the weekend and then start bumping them off.

POIROT: Did your aunt like John Christow?

HENRIETTA: Lucy?

Lucy's a cousin, not an aunt.

Yes, she liked him very much.

And your also-cousin, Monsieur Edward Angkatell, did he like Dr Christow?

Not particularly.

And do they like Madame Christow?

It's not a matter of liking her.

She's family.

- Is she?

- We're not all rich, you know.

Gerda's from a branch of rather humble Angkatells.

She's tolerated, I think it's fair to say, because she's one of us.

And your understanding of tolerance that would be to sleep with her husband?

Why did you take the revolver out of the hand of Madame Christow, and drop it into the pool?

Gerda's very clumsy.

She might have fired it and hurt someone.

But you are not clumsy, are you?

Yet you dropped it.

If there were fingerprints on that revolver, that is to say fingerprints made on it before Madame Christow handled it, it would have been interesting to know whose they were.

Meaning that you think they were mine?

You're suggesting that I shot John, and then left the revolver beside him, so that Gerda could come along and pick it up.

But if I'd done that, give me credit for enough intelligence to have wiped my own prints off first.

But mademoiselle, you have enough intelligence to know that if there were no fingerprints on the revolver other than those of Madame Christow, it would have been tres remarquable, because you were all shooting with the revolver the day before.

And there is something else that we have just discovered.

We now know that the revolver that was dropped into the pool was not the revolver that killed John Christow.

He was shot with a quite different gun.

And you think that I shot him.

When he was dying, John Christow said, "Henrietta."

I told you, we were lovers.

Oh, yes, of course, he was your lover, so as he is dying, he says, "Henrietta."

Very touching.

I don't think there is any need to sneer.

I'm not sneering, but I do not like being lied to.

I've admitted that I'm not very truthful.

But I don't kill people, Monsieur Poirot.

INDISTINCT CHATTER REPORTERS CLAMOURING Gerda?

Gerda!

Poor, dear Gerda.

I am so sorry.

Not getting too little sleep, I trust?

What is an adjournment?

Do you know?

You must be famished.

Why not come back to The Hollow for lunch?

I'm taking Gerda directly home.

She needs rest and quiet.

Not this.

EDWARD: What did they see in Christow?

That wretched woman looks completely heartbroken.

- Poor devil.

- Are you all packed?

I'm getting a lift up to town.

All set.

Come on, Midge.

Bye, Edward.

Bye.

HENRY: Edward!

HENRIETTA GROANS Damn cold!

It is rather.

What's this one?

It looks a bit like Gerda.

Cowed and hunched.

She modelled for me.

Don't you dare tell her that's what I ended up with.

I call it "The Worshipper."

Who's she worshipping?

John.

Do you understand all that business with the second gun?

No, but it lets Gerda off the hook, doesn't it?

Let's have some tea and toast, and I'll run you back to your digs.

MUSIC PLAYING ♪ In the gloaming By the fireside ♪ ♪ Every hour will be Well spent ♪ Mademoiselle, do not... LUCY: 'Gerda has mur...

I mean...' GERDA: 'John has been shot.

'He's dead.'

Edward!

Midge!

How wonderful to see you both!

My, my, my!

He rescued me from Madame Alfrege.

It was frightfully romantic.

I was whisked out of the shop and taken to lunch at the Conord.

And do you know what?

I never went back.

LUCY LAUGHS EDWARD: I'm a dull dog, I know.

I'm not much good at anything.

I just read books, potter about.

But Midge has agreed to come to Ainswick and be my wife... ..and nothing could make me happier.

Off-white satin, I think.

Don't you?

And an ivory prayer book, yes.

What about bridesmaids?

I don't want a fuss.

Just a quiet wedding.

I quite agree with you.

They never match, do they?

There's always one rather plain one who seems to ruin the whole effect.

HENRY CHUCKLES Absolutely dozens of them out there, poking about in the woods, making merry havoc with all the pheasants!

MIDGE: Why are they still here?

They're searching for the missing revolver, Midge.

INDISTINCT CHATTER Bonjour, mademoiselle.

Good morning, Monsieur Poirot.

Will they find it, do you think?

Oh, quite soon, I should say.

You have returned very suddenly from London, mademoiselle.

There's a party for Midge and Edward, who, believe it or not, are getting married.

Why, did you think the murderer was returning to the scene of the crime?

BOTH CHUCKLE You know, it has seemed to me from the very beginning that either this crime was very simple, so simple, that it was very difficult to believe in its simplicity, or else it was very complex.

And that is to say that we are contending against a mind that is capable of inventions that are intricate and ingenious, so that every time we seem to be heading towards the truth, we are actually being led away from it.

A mind that is subtle, and yet very ingenious.

Which is plotting against us the whole time, and succeeding.

What has that to do with me?

It is a creative mind, mademoiselle.

And this is a strange tree.

HENRIETTA: It's Yggdrasil.

A memento of my childhood.

I draw it everywhere.

Just doodling.

You know.

But I have seen it before, in the pavilion by the pool.

In the pavilion?

Where it must have been drawn on Sunday morning.

Oh, yes, on a little table.

That was on Saturday afternoon.

No, no, no.

It was not there when Gudgeon brought out the sherry glasses.

Must have been Sunday afternoon.

No, because Grange's men did not leave the area until dusk.

Oh, yes, I remember.

It was after dinner on Saturday.

No, no, no, Mademoiselle Savernake.

People do not doodle in the dark.

I think that you were there in the pavilion on Sunday after 12, when Gudgeon brought the sherry glasses.

I think that you stood by the table, watching someone, waiting for someone, and you doodled.

I didn't go down to the pool until one o'clock, just after John Christow had been shot.

But Yggdrasil testifies against you.

You were there and you shot Dr Christow, or you were there and you saw who did.

This is outrageous.

Do you think you are cleverer than I?

GRANGE: Well, the inquest resumes tomorrow, and all I've got is vague suspicions leading nowhere.

Uh-huh.

Nowhere instead of somewhere, that is it.

Do you know, half the time, I think those Angkatells know all about it.

Oh, they do know all about it.

Henrietta Savernake?

Oh, nothing from her, either.

She went straight back to Chelsea.

I've been through her studio with a fine-tooth comb, but there's no gun, just a lot of arty-farty stuff.

Sculptures, funny-looking horses, bits of wood, metal... Horses, did you say?

Well, one horse, if you can call it a horse.

- A horse?

Yeah, what's so fascinating about that?

No, it is just a point of psychology, Inspector.

How quickly can you get me up to London?

WOOD CRACKING What are you looking for, sir?

This.

The horse.

Merci.

It's quite good, actually.

No.

No.

Merci.

POIROT GRUNTING GRANGE: Mr Poirot?

Mademoiselle Savernake does not like horses.

Voila.

I think that this will prove to be the murder weapon.

So, Miss Savernake did it?

No.

Looks a bit bloody likely.

No, Mademoiselle Savernake is not, in my estimation, a murderer.

So... let us keep quiet about our discovery for the time being, Inspector.

And watch.

Let us be intelligent.

POIROT: Is Her Ladyship at home?

You will find Lady Angkatell in the potting shed, sir.

- Merci.

- Sir, if I might.

The inquest has concluded, murder by person or persons unknown.

Is it necessary to trouble Her Ladyship any further, sir?

Lady Angkatell.

Ah, Monsieur Poirot.

Tell me, what are your views on compost?

I've come to offer you apologies for all the inconvenience you have suffered.

Mmm, it's high time to put a full stop to the whole thing.

You do understand me, don't you?

I'm not sure that I do, Lady Angkatell.

SHE CHUCKLES Oh, come, come, Poirot!

You understand perfectly.

Since Inspector Grange has failed to find the murder weapon, why, he'll have to let the whole thing drop.

You, I dare say, won't.

No.

I shall not let it drop.

What if you were told the truth?

Would you like to tell me the truth?

Oh, Monsieur Poirot, I would love to tell you the truth.

Then, of course, we could all agree that, well, John Christow is over and done with.

Could we, madame?

You really are very foreign, aren't you?

Are you quite sure you've not forgotten something, Lady Angkatell?

It suddenly just came upon me, in a mighty rush... ..that you... Henrietta, you might have overlooked it.

I could be wrong, of course, and you could have dealt with everything absolutely beautifully, but Simpson never mentioned it.

I'm a trifle concerned that... - What's the matter, Lucy?

- Well, it's the holster.

- What?

Oh, Henrietta, the holster.

The gun was in the holster!

KNOCK AT DOOR Yes, Collins?

It's Miss Savernake, madam.

Holster.

Gerda, where is the holster?

You must give me the holster, and then you'll be safe.

Not completely safe.

Dommage.

Poirot!

How did you... - Sometimes, the fastest car is not fast enough, eh, mademoiselle?

Well, not when it races against the brain.

Where are the children?

Elsie's taken them to the zoo.

Thank heaven for that.

I know that you killed your husband, madame.

Yes.

I did.

Why did you do it, Gerda?

Why did you kill John?

Because it was all a lie.

Everything.

I thought he was the noblest man in the world.

But I saw his face... ..when he followed that woman that evening.

I knew he'd loved her before he married me, but I thought...

..I thought it was over.

'I tried to sleep... '..but I couldn't.

'It was the middle of the night.

'I had to know.'

They were there.

I could hear them.

John... ..and Veronica Cray.

VERONICA MOANING JOHN MOANING I believed in him... ..as though he were God.

I worshipped him.

And it was all a lie.

I had to kill him.

You do see that?

I had to.

I'm not quite so stupid as everyone thinks.

'I knew I could kill John, 'and the police would never know... '..because I read in his novel 'how they can tell which guns fired the bullet.

'So, I took two.

'Sir Henry had shown me 'how to load and fire the day before.

'It was easy.'

You shut the cylinder back into the frame... and you're ready for shooting.

GUN COCKS 'I'd shoot John with one, 'and then hide it, 'and let them find me 'holding the other.

'But er, I forgot about the leather thing.'

The holster.

I forgot about it, too.

I also forgot.

Memory, it is selective.

N'est-ce pas?

And then I heard Inspector Grange mention again this holster, this holster of leather... ..and I remembered where I had seen it before.

GRANGE: What's that?

MAN: Looks like leather-work, sir.

Where is your bag for the leather-work, madame?

Oh...

I...

I think it's in the surgery.

The surgery?

I sit there.

In his chair.

I'll fetch it for you, shall I?

S'il vous plait.

But madame... Oh, I'm not going anywhere.

Don't worry.

When you return to your studio, I'm afraid, you will discover that one of your sculptures, it has been destroyed.

It is the sculpture of the head of the horse.

It may have worked, mademoiselle, had you not told me how much you detested the creatures.

I know that you were helped by your family, once they knew what you wanted done.

Henrietta...

Isn't it possible that Gerda came along to the pool, found John lying there, and had just picked up the revolver when we came on the scene?

Well... is this what Gerda says?

Yes.

POIROT: But why did you want it done, mademoiselle?

Because John asked me to.

That's what he meant when he said "Henrietta".

He was asking me to protect Gerda, and he knew that I'd do anything he wanted, because...

I loved him.

Ah.

Oui.

I began to realise the truth... ..when I saw that there was a pattern, a pattern to implicate everyone, other than Gerda Christow.

You deliberately planted Yggdrasil to catch my attention and bring yourself under suspicion.

I put the pistol in the egg basket and then I put the new eggs on top of the pistol.

Oh, I doubt there will be any fingerprints, sir, because I polished it with my handkerchief before replacing it, sir.

And Lady Angkatell and the family, oh, they closed ranks and colluded because... ..there is only one thing to do, if you want to clear from suspicion the person who is actually guilty.

Suggest guilt elsewhere.

But never localise it.

THUD IN DISTANCE - Vite.

- Oh, my God!

Gerda!

Gerda!

Gerda... Help her, for God's sake!

It is too late.

Potassium cyanide.

As the wife of a doctor... ..she knew exactly what to do.

What happens to me now?

Go, my child.

Your place is with the living.

I will remain here with the dead.

SHE SIGHS