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Hello, darling.
Managed to slip away,
but I think I sprang my bloody wrist.
Oh, John...
How is work?
Fine, thanks. I'm doing a big
abstract to the International Exhibition.
How's yours?
I might be making some progress
in the Ridgeway's Disease.
I've a patient in Hammersmith
Hospital, Mrs. Crabtree,
she's a driver's wife, I believe,
she's dying of Ridgeway's.
But she's allowed me to try
some new treatments on her.
By God, 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.
Hmm, 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.
- Well, that will be lovely.
- Yes. Henrietta, come here.
It's going to be a complete disaster.
It's always the same
when I invite Gerda.
I wish I hadn't,
but the worst thing is that
she's so terribly nice.
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, doen't it?
Someone as nice as Gerda should be
so voyd of any kind of intelligence.
I often think, if she had any spirit
at all, she'd stay away.
Henrietta will help, of course.
Strange how good Henrietta
is with Gerda.
- What're you talking about, Lucy?
- The weekend is upon us, Midge.
The guests will be arriving
any minute.
And I'm just trusting to Henrietta
to make conversation,
because John and Gerda...
... it's a nightmare,
John and Gerda.
Lucy, do you know what time it is?
I'm sorry, darling,
I have absolutely no idea what time it is.
It's a quarter past six!
Midge, I am sorry!
Why didn't you tell me?
Come, come, come,
go back to your dreams. Good night.
Are you alright?
I'm tired.
A weekend in the country
will make you feel better.
Yes. Unfortunately,
Gerda is driving.
- Victor!
- Mr. Poirot, sir, have a good trip?
Without incident,
thank you. Victor,
Victor, what is that smell?
- Smell?
Can't smell anything, sir.
Just good country air.
Collie, the telephone number
is on the pad, in the surgery.
Call me if there's trouble.
There'll be no trouble,
Dr. Christow.
- Goodbye, children.
- Bye, daddy!
Be good!
It won't start.
Switch on the ignition, Gerda!
- I'm so stupid. I'm sorry.
- Let's just get there, shall we?
I wish we could stay at home.
The Angkatell frighten the life out of me.
- Goodbye, children!
- Bye mummy. Bye daddy!
The weather's said fair
for the weekend.
Everything's *** and span
(immaculate) at the cottage,
the wife's seen to that.
I am sure I shall be
most comfortable.
It will be a relief, I expect, escape
the fumes and stink of London.
I say!
Milles tonnerres!
Why must you spent so many hours
at the hospital
when you've a perfectly 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 just become convinced
it'd suddenly...
Oh, God, Gerda!
Gudgeon!
Hello, Midge!
Great to see you!
- What a gorgeous car!
- He's a Legonda.
Goes like the wind!
Thank you, Gudgeon.
- Hello, Lucy.
- Henrietta!
Wonderful to see you.
I supose that, by the time you take
that magificent steed of yours to the stable,
give it a rub down and a nosebag,
lunch might be ready.
- Who's coming?
- The Christow.
- And Edward's arriving after lunch.
- Good.
Looks like you'll have some company,
Mr. Poirot.
Someone has taken
the cottage next door.
Mr. Poirot!
Enchanté, Madame.
Everything is beautiful,
as usual.
But tell me, someone has taken up
residence at Dovecotes?
Yes, sir. A lady.
An actrice, they say.
How's the dreaded dress shop?
Bloody awful!
- Hello there!
- Edward!
Hello, Midge!
Hello, Henrietta!
But tell me, Madame Simms,
what is this?
I did not expect any mail
to this address.
It's from Lady Angkatell,
up at The Hollow.
Pour ce soir?
How are things at Ainswick,
Edward? Just as lovely as ever?
Why don't you come and see?
You're always welcome.
Anytime.
Anytime at all.
You are sweet.
And Ainswick is the best place
in the world.
Do you remember our special tree?
Igdrasil. The secret sign
we used to draw everywhere?
Fancy a breath here?
My God! Igdrasil.
Who drew that?
You did.
So, what've 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.
Makes it so much harder to go on
saying " no".
What you really mean is that 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'd be no John Christow
in the world,
you'd marry me.
I used to spent my holidays
with Edward, at Ainswick.
It seemed so vast.
14.000 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 wags.
Edward isn't even my cousin,
he's family's second cousin.
But he's still in tail.
Ainswick falls like rain,
right plop in his lap.
- Aren't you remotely bitter about that?
- No, of course not.
I've invited that crime fellow
for dinner.
I'm sorry?
That's why I was in your bedroom
so early, this morning.
I had this premonition, you see.
That we were to have
terrible foughts, for dinner.
So, him being here,
just could be a distraction.
What crime man, Lucy?
He was in Bagdad
when Henry was High-Comissionary.
He stays in one of those funny little cottages,
down the lane.
I remember he wore this pink
flower on his button hole
and he was solving something,
I can't quite remember what.
But of course I'm not terribly interested
on who killed whom.
I mean, once you're dead,
you're dead
it doesn't matter why, does it?
I'm no good in 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...
You know I love you, don't you?
Of course I know,
but I have to warn you...
No one else, just you.
We'll never make it
to Shovel Down in third.
Very fair shooting, Edward.
Now, there.
Your turn, Henrietta.
See if you can kill
a burglar.
- Well done!
- No, you only winged him.
Hello, everyone! Hello, Henry!
- It's the Christow!
- Hello. So sorry we're late.
Not at all, not at all, just in time
for sporting target practice.
Nice to see you, John.
Now then, Gerda, come along.
- Try to put one in bullseye.
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 brought the artillery.
Has he indeed?
I sprang my bloody wrist.
Careful.
Did I miss? I bet I missed.
My turn, is it?
Gerda, how lovely to see you!
Thank you, Henry.
Come along, Gudgeon.
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.
Then, before I knew it,
she'd shot one in the leg
and one in 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.
Sena has in ballet class.
Point shoes, the whole lot.
- And Terence?
- Chemistry.
Always trying to blow things up.
He's planning to make nitroglycerine
while were away.
- But don't tell John anything.
- Oh, I shan't.
- And you?
- Oh, I've taken up Leathercraft.
Do you like this?
I made it.
It's so nice talking to you.
But I suppose it will 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 overly unselfish.
I'd rather stay in Harley Street,
to be frank,
but he thinks it is good for me,
to get out into the country.
Oh, the country's alright.
No need to throw in the Angkatells
We're an odious family.
Come on, let's go in and get changed.
There's some sort of detective
coming in, apparently.
You wouldn't believe it.
Monsieur Poirot has habilities
one has to say,
quite phenomenal.
It's absolutely true, the talk about
there was in Bagdad.
Monsieur Poirot
and his little "green" cells.
Grey, Madame.
Pardon me. But we're awfully lucky
to have him as a neighbour.
I mean, in case anything went wrong.
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.
But you're so... damn it all,
so detached.
Your art, your cars,
your friends.
I want you to think
you only need me.
Isn't that what Gerda does?
Don't you tell me you care a damn
about Gerda.
Why not?
I like Gerda.
- Dinner, Milady.
- Thank you, Gudgeon
Please, Monsieur Poirot.
Come this way.
Merci.
Has anyone seen John?
Well, the customers are awful!
One has to put up far more insolence
in a dress shop
than Gudgeon
or Simmons or any decent
domestic does here.
It must be absolute hell, darling.
But why does one has
to be so proud?
Anyone having to earn one's living,
doesn't have to be the end, has it?
It's all about self-esteem,
surely?
You're the expert on that.
So, how do you do it then,
Monsieur Poirot?
I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle?
To solve so many crimes?
Merely I use the process
of the thought logic
and once the process
it has been applied,
alors, the mistery
becomes éclairé
and the criminal mind
it is uncovered.
But that assumes that you're
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's cleverer than yourself?
This is not the highest probability,
Mademoiselle.
Have you ever been to Deauville,
Monsieur...?
Careful, sir. Henrietta
has a very sharp tongue.
After dinner, we use to
play games. Perhaps charades.
But tonight I think it would be
most appropriate,
if we were to essay
the *** 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!
It usually turns out to be Gudgeon.
Lady Angkatell,
it's a proposition that is most delightful,
but I'm one who retires early to his bed.
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.
- Mr. Poirot.
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?
Pardon,
but tomorrow I am engagé.
Nonsense, there's absolutely
nothing to do around here,
for miles and miles and miles.
I insist you come to our sunday
lunch.
Henry, tell him
I do not take kindly to being disobeyed.
We'd be very pleased to have you, old man.
Et bien.
It will be my pleasure to attend.
Thank you.
Bonne nuit.
Good night, Mr. Poirot.
- 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.
The only sane thing to do.
Game and rubber. Well done.
- Wait, 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, forgiving me for
barging in upon you like this.
I'm the dinky little house,
up the lane
and I've had the most frightful
catastrophe.
Please, come on in.
Henry, close the window.
What happened?
I've 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 in Dovecotes
so I've come to beg some from my
only neighbours within miles and...
- My God!
- Hello, Veronica.
My God, it's John Christow!
Matches, was it?
This is too, too extraordinary!
- Do you know each other?
- We did...
... a long time ago.
- Yes, John's an old friend.
He was the first guy
I was ever in love with.
Midge, would you kindly ring the bell?
I thought you were just wonderful!
Weren't we really madly
in love?
Veronica, this is my wife.
How lovely to meet you.
Ah, Gudgeon,
tell me, do we have plenty of matches
in the house?
- A dozen boxes came today, milady.
- Excellent.
- Would you kindly get six?
- Very good, milady.
And... how do you like Dovecotes?
Oh, I adore it! It's so cute
and so close to London...
And, yet, we feel
so gloriously isolated.
We kindda lost touch
when I went to California, didn't we?
- You've been to California?
- Oh, I live there, actually.
I just popped over to do a little play.
One has to keep up to hand,
and say hello to
Shaftesbury Avenue and all that.
My dear Lady Angkatell,
I surely won't need all these.
We have plenty in the house.
Besides, I always think
it's rather tiresome
only having one of a thing, don't you?
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 all those years and years,
since I've seen you.
I'm so sorry to have bothered you
in this pathetic way, Lady Angkatell,
- Night, night.
- Good night.
- That was Veronica Cray!
- Indeed.
We must catch up
one of her pictures, Henry.
If that little performance is anything
to go by,
we will certainly get our money's worth.
- I assure it's true
- It can't be!
- I'm not joking...
- No, it's not true!
It is true.
Come on, John. Come on.
What time is it?
Uh... I've-- I've no idea.
Sorry to wake you.
I had to go in for a drink
with the woman.
Good night, John.
Good night.
Morning.
- Morning.
- Morning.
We're shooting after breakfast.
- We might bag a few pigeon.
- You wanna come?
No, thanks.
I feel a bit shattered,
to be honest.
For me?
It came this morning, sir.
We have to talk about our future.
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.
You've this...
... 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 fiancée
and you ditched me!
I couldn't go with you to Hollywood.
I had to finish Med School.
Of course, to being a doctor.
Well, you go on being a doctor,
I don't mind.
My dear girl, I'm married.
I have children!
I know.
I'm married myself,
at the moment.
It's nothing a good divorce lawyer
can't fix.
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!
Waited in this ghastly hovel (hut)
for the weekend
for you to be here!
You see I knew...
... that if we could be,
just once more, together,
... just once more
You-- you planned it?
You belong to me, John.
You're mine!
When I was young man,
I wanted to share my life with you
and you wouldn't do it.
Because my career is so much more
important than yours.
Anyone can be a doctor.
You're a nasty piece of work!
You leave me again,
I'll really make you sorry!
So be it!
Goodbye.
I hate you more than I thought
I could hate anyone!
Good day, sir.
Lady Angkatell would like you
to come to the pavillion, sir,
for a glass of cherry.
- Out of doors?
- Would you care to follow me, sir?
Merci.
Milady?
I see that you are playing
the "*** Game".
Alors, très bien.
I congratulate you all.
Henrietta...
- Allow me, madam.
- Give that to me, Gerda!
Mademoiselle, do no...
Poirot? What's happened?
Gerda has mur... I mean...
John has been shot.
He's dead.
Isn't really my line, ***.
Non, 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.
It's... it's a bit chilly.
- You alright if we wait in the pavillion?
- Oui, bien sûr.
Can I offer you a cherry?
Non, merci.
It's better not to touch.
- I suppose we can smoke.
- Oui.
Non, non, merci.
A very able fellow, Christow.
Very able.
Slightly too able,
if you take my meaning.
I just don't know what to do about lunch.
It seems so heartless
to be seating around a table,
stuffing oneself
as if nothing had happened.
Don't worry on my account, Lucy.
God bless you, dear Edward,
but say what you will,
*** is a very awkward thing.
It upsets the servants so,
breaks whole routine out.
The worst of all, it was duck
for lunch,
my very, very favourite!
What about Gerda, Midge?
Perhaps something on a tray
would be good.
I've placed sandwiches and some coffe
in the dining-room, milady.
Gudgeon, thank you!
Gudgeon really is a jewel, you know?
And a proper, substantial sandwich
is as good as lunch.
And there's nothing remotely heartless
about them,
if you know what I mean.
- Lucy, don't! This is all so awful!
- Oh! Midge!
Don't cry, little Midge.
Monsieur Poirot,
this is Inspector Grange.
I expect you've heard
about Monsieur Poirot.
- I most certainly have.
- Inspector.
May I ask you what brings you
to these "neck o da woods"?
Well, I visit this "neck of the woods",
Inspector,
for the weekends.
My friends persuaded me
to purchase a cottage here.
It is the second one, in that way,
along the lane.
Are you fond of the countryside,
aren't you, sir?
Le paysage is most,
except for the trees,
have this untidy habit
of dropping leaves.
And that path leads to the lane,
you say?
Oui.
And that path leads to the farm
and that's where
Lady Angkatell came?
Edward Angkatell and Miss Savernake
came from the woods separately
and then they stood there and there?
Oui, it was like one
mis-en-scène from the theatre.
I'm giving Gerda some brandy.
Oh, how thoughtful of you, Henrietta.
Yes, I was remembering,
we were given a brandy,
for shock, when I was a little girl,
at Ainswick.
Of course, I suppose it's not
exactly a shock with Gerda, is it?
Personally, I don't know
how I would feel
if I'd just murdered my husband,
but wouldn't exactly be shock,
would it?
I mean, there wouldn't be
no element of surprise.
Why are you so sure
that Gerda killed John?
It seems so evident.
Why, what else do you suggest?
Isn't it possible that Gerda
came along to the pool,
found John lying there
and just picked up the revolver
when we came on the scene?
This is 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?
This is my wife, Inspector Grange.
Lady Angkatell.
I was hoping to have a word
with Mrs. Christow.
There she is.
- Mrs. Christow?
- Yes, I'm Gerda Christow.
I should just want to ask you a few--
He was a wonderful doctor.
So kind, so unselfish.
The best of husbands.
Who could've 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 12:58. I noticed the clock.
And, when I got there,
there was John, lying there,
and blood...
- Did you hear the shoot?
- Yes.
No... I don't know.
Sir Henry and Edward
were out shooting.
I just saw John... blood
and a revolver.
- 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, sir. Don't you think she did it?
It could have happened
as she said.
Yes, could have.
But it's a very thin story.
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.
What's that?
Looks like leather work, sir.
- Oh, right.
- Sir, we got the weapon.
Come on, pick it up.
Been in the pool, destroyed any
fingerprints that might have been on it.
Yes, it comes from my collection.
It's my hobby, Inspector.
- When did you last see this one?
- Yesterday afternoon.
We were doing some target practice.
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?
I put the firearm back
in its usual place.
Will Sir Henry require a late supper,
milady?
There is some duck leftover.
No, Gudgeon, he's driving
Mrs. Christow up to London as we speak.
He's staying at his club.
Gudgeon, about those eggs...
I meant to write the date on them,
as per usual.
But, because of the confusion...
Could you kindly ask the cook?
I've seen to it myself,
milady.
Oh, bless you, Gudgeon.
- Do you think Gerda will be alright?
- Oh, yes.
She'll probably send for some
old school friend of hers.
She's probably got three or four.
I can just see them, scrabbling
hockey types, from Turnbridge Wells.
What extraodinary things you do say,
Lucy!
Very well, Eastbourne and tennis,
if you insist.
I wonder if there're 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 ***
is comitted in the night?
Lucy, don't...
I'm so sorry, how stupid of me,
of course.
Gerda is on her way back to London.
Oh, dear. I didn't mean...
Tomorrow, I think it's better
to telephone the shop, you know.
Just tell them about the inquest.
Just say you're staying off here
for a few days.
I haven't said anything, but...
... you do know how sorry I am?
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 seat and cry
for a pocket handkerchief
while you'd held my hand?
You're nice enough, Edward,
but, honestly,
you are inadequate.
Alô?
Yes.
Monsieur Poirot,
we could use your brains.
Join us, would you?
So...
... which of the ladies did
this wrap belong to?
I take it, sir, that you're referring
to the cape of artic fox.
I noticed it yesterday, when I took
the cherry out to the pavillion.
But it is not the property of anyone
in this establishment, sir.
Well, who's is it, then?
It might possibly belong to Miss Cray,
the motion picture actrice.
She payed 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 are 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 it?
- Motive? Jealousy, I'd say.
La jalousie?
Peut-être.
You know these fancy doctors.
He'd probably get one of those rich
lady patients a good "see to".
And Lady Angkatell mentioned
some trouble with a nurse.
But she was a bit vague.
Yes, she would be vague.
I'm taking the train off to London.
I'm going to Harley Street.
Would 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 fall in with his ideas.
You organized his appointments,
Miss Collins.
Any difficulty with patients?
Lady patients?
He had an excellent manner
with patients.
Yes, but any...
... hanky panky?
- Certainly not.
What about Mlle. Veronica Cray?
Veronica Cray?
Well, we believe she was a friend
of Dr. Christow's.
- Do you mean the actrice?
- Oui.
I'd no idea he knew her.
Any ideas as to whom
might have killed Dr. Christow?
Absolutely none at all, Inspector.
When the body was discovered,
Mme. 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.
- It's the Inspector, Mrs. Christow.
- 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?
Uh... no, not yet Ma'am.
- Was it you, Mrs. Christow?
- That's unfair!
- Why do you persecute the poor woman?
- 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.
Balistic's report. We ran it
right away.
Have a look at that, Poirot.
Merci, Madame.
So the balistics report proves
that the gun in the pool
was not the one who killed
John Christow.
I've spoken to Sir Henry.
He says that there is a gun missing
in his collection.
A .38 Smith & Wesson,
brown holster.
I think this whole thing
could be a frame
set up to implicate Mrs. Christow.
But, if that was so,
why do not leave the right revolver
lying by the body?
But she might not have pick 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.
Well, he had a funny way
to work about it.
We suspected her right
from the start.
Oui, mon ami.
Very swiftly you suspected her.
Look, Poirot. You were a eye witness,
you saw everything.
Oui, I saw.
But the eyes of witnesses
are most unreliable.
Sometimes, the eyes see
what they are meant to see.
You saying it was arranged?
There was something about the tableau,
the people around the pool
it was false. And I can not
place my finger on what it was.
There were three people,
Lady Angkatell,
Monsieur Edward Angkatell
and Henrietta Savernake.
Henrietta.
And anyone of these three people
could have shot Dr. Christow
before Madame Christow arrived,
could have retreated
by one of the paths, turn around
and returned.
Blimey, you're right.
There is also another possibility,
Inspector.
Someone could have come
from the path, along the lane,
then fired the shot
and gone back the same way.
You're dead right.
And that could be 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.
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 pavillion?
Yes, it was.
She must have left it there when she
entered to borrow the matches.
I do not believe she went there
to borrow the matches.
She could have borrowed them from me
and saved the walk.
No, no, no.
She was nervous,
on account of you being a foreigner.
Et bien...
- Santé.
- Santé.
You know something about human nature,
don't you?
I know a little
about human nature.
Inspector Grange has got into his head
that I quarreled 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 that a guy like Grange wouldn't believe it.
But I think you might
understand.
I am flattered, Mademoiselle.
Actually, I am married.
Madame.
12 years ago, John was
very in love with me.
Even obsessively so.
He wanted me
to give up acting,
having a life of my own,
even a mind of my own
He was so possessive and domineering
I thought I couldn't go through with it
and I broke off the engagement.
I'm affrai he took it
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 carried a torch for me,
all these years.
We argued and argued,
and in the end I had to send him
back The Hollow.
Next morning, he returned.
I told him it was impossible.
He insisted.
I told him 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...
... said I hated him.
And we parted in anger. And...
... now he is dead.
- It is a tragedy.
- Undoubtedly.
Do you think I should say any of this
at the inquest?
I mean... his wife.
I can not see that it has any bearing
at the inquest.
It is private.
And perhaps it should remain so.
I talked with the kitchen maid, sir.
Simmons.
She says that, 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 it.
At about 17:30, I noticed
a revolver lying upon the hall table.
I picked it up and brought it in here.
There was a gap up there on the shelf,
so I put it where it belong.
Which one, Gudgeon?
This one, sir.
But that is not a revolver.
That is an automatic pistol.
I'm very sorry, sir. I'm affraid
I'm not fully informed about firearms.
Sir Henry, I'll have it
fully 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 felt it might be dusty, sir.
How nice to see you, Monsieur Poirot.
Oh, dear! There's a poor girl
in the kichen,
just sobbing her heart out.
What have you been telling them
about the pistol, Gudgeon?
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...
This here is all quite feudal, you know?
But he didn't find the pistol
in the hall at all.
No, no, no.
He found it when he took out the eggs.
Eggs? What eggs?
You see, I went out to the farm
to collect the eggs.
I put the pistol on 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... I mean, unwell...
... I sort of had a bit of a shock
and almost dropped the basket.
Dear sweet Gudgeon, as per usual,
sprang to my rescue.
Later on, I wanted to write
the date on the eggs,
otherwise, you see, we 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 would ask me that,
Monsieur Poirot.
Of course I... must have had a reason,
mustn't I, Henry?
I mean, I must have had some idea
worrying about in my head,
in order for me to put the Mauser
into the egg basket, in 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 of the riffling.
I think that's pretty well common
knowledge nowadays, Poirot.
I was just taking the dog for a walk.
I love peaking
in other people's houses.
Do you mind if I take a look?
But certainly, Mademoiselle,
entrez, if you please.
I would be most grateful, however,
if the dog might be kept outside.
How beautifully tidy!
You'd hate my studio.
There's clay all over the place,
and glaze, and paint bottles...
But I understand,
you are an artiste.
Aren't you an artist too,
Monsieur Poirot?
On the whole, I would say...
... non.
I've known crimes that were artistic,
supreme exercises of imagination.
But the solving of them, non.
The criative power
is not what is needed.
What is required
is a passion for truth.
And, once you have the truth,
once you have knowledge,
is that enough?
Or do you have to go one step further
and transform
the knowledge into action?
Why did you come here,
Mademoiselle Savernake?
As I said, I was
taking the dog for a walk.
It is odd I did never take notice
of a dog on my visits to the Angkatell.
That might be because
they haven't got one.
I borrowed the gardener's.
Don't actually like animals much,
dogs, horses...
horrible, smelly things.
I am not, Monsieur Poirot,
terribly truthful.
Non.
But I think that you have integrity.
The inquest is tomorrow.
Is it necessary, do you know,
the Police to know
that I was John Christow's mistress?
You were lovers?
I do not think that the Police
has any difficulty in discovering this.
I suppose not.
Why should Gerda bear
such heavy burden?
She adored John
and now she is dead.
I didn't break up his married life.
I was one of a procession, along
with Veronica Cray and all the others.
- So he was like that?
- No!
He was a noble man,
a fine man.
He was doing a vital research
into a debilitanting disease.
It's called Ridgeway's,
there is no known cure.
He was working on it night and day,
for months.
His curiosity,
his determination...
Oh! I wish I could make you understand.
- But I understand.
- Really?
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 *** of the first water.
She wanted John to give up
medicine
and go and live with her
in Califórnia.
So he broke off
and subsequentely married Gerda.
He had a number of affairs,
which Gerda never knew nothing about.
But he really never got over Veronica.
And in the last Saturday they met,
for the first time in 12 years.
He went out to see her home
and he returned to the Hollow
at 03:00 a.m..
Yes. How do you know?
The housemaid had a toothache.
Lucy has far too many servants.
And how is it that you know?
I was watching out 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 come to me and say:
Mr. Gudeon, would you be so kind
and give me an explanation.
Yes, Mr. Gudgeon.
The improper thing to do
is to go babbling to the Police.
That is common.
Where would Her Ladyship be,
if we all run
doing things like that, hmm?
Lucy, why did you take the pistol?
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 accident..
Accident, who might
have had an accident?
Well, obviously, John Christow.
And, 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'm so dreadfully worried about Ainswick.
If Edward never marries,
and he won't, you know,
if Henrietta turns him down,
it will all die out. It will.
They will 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'd got to get rid of him.
Lucy, you didn't...
Don't be such a fool.
Do you really believe, for a moment,
that I could've shot him?
I invited him here, Henry.
One doesn't ask guests
for the weekend
and start bumping them off.
- Did your aunt like John Christow?
- Lucy?
Lucy's a cousin, not an aunt.
Yes, she liked him very much.
And your... also cousin,
Mr. 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 famíly.
- Is she?
- We're not all rich, you know?
Gerda is from a branch
of rather humble Angkatell's.
She's tolerated, I think it's fair to say,
because she's one of us.
And your understanding of tolerance
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?
A Gerda is very clumsy.
She might have fired it
and hurt someone.
But you're not clumsy,
are you?
And yet you dropped it.
If there were fingerprints
on that revolver,
that is to say, fingerprints
before Madame Christow handled it,
it would've been intersting
to know who's they were.
Meaning that you think
that 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 figerprints off first.
But, Mademoiselle, you have
enough intelligence to know
that if there would be no fingerprints
in the revolver, other than Madame Christow's,
other than Madame Christow's,
it would be très remarcable.
Because you were all shooting
with the revolver
the day before.
And there are something else we have
just discovered.
We now know that the revover 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 was dying, he says,
"Henrietta."
Very touching.
- I don't think there is any need to sneer.
- I am 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.
Gerda! Poor dear, Gerda.
I'm so sorry. Not getting too
a little sleep, I trust.
What is an adjournment, you know?
You must be famished.
Why don't you come back
to the Hollow for lunch?
I'm taking Gerda directly home.
She needs rest and quiet,
not this.
What did they see in Christow?
That wretched woman
is completely heartbroken.
- Poor devil.
- Are you all packed?
I'm getting lift to town.
All set.
Come on, Midge. Bye, Edward.
Bye.
Edward!
- 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 what I ended up with.
I call it "The Worshiper".
Who is she worshiping?
John.
Did 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 toasts,
then I'll take you to your lodgings.
Mademoiselle, do not!
John has been shot. He's dead.
Edward, Midge,
how wonderful to see you both!
He rescued me from Madame Alfrege.
It was frightfully romantic.
I was whisked from the shop and taken
to lunch at The Connaught
and, do you know what?
I never went back.
I'm a dull dog, I know.
I am no much good at anything.
I just read books, putter about.
Midge has agrred to come to Ainswick
and be my wife.
And nothing could make me happier.
Of white satin, don't you think?
And ivory Prayer Book.
What about bridesmaids?
Oh, I don't fuss.
Just a quiet wedding.
I quite agree. They don't match,
do they?
I mean it, there's always
a rather plain one, that ruins the whole--
Absolutely dozens of them,
poking about in the woods,
making a terrible mess
with all the pheasants!
Why are they still here?
They're searching for
the missing revolver, Midge.
Bonjour, Mademoiselle.
Good morning, Monsieur Poirot.
Will they find it, do you think?
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
would return to the scene of the crime?
You know, it did seem 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 it was very complex.
And it is to say
that we are contending against a mind
that is able of inventions
that are intricate and ingenious.
So that every time we seem
to be heading towards the truth,
we're actually being led away from it.
A mind that is subtle
and yes, very ingenious,
which is plotting agaist us
the whole time.
And succeding.
What is that to do with me?
It is a creative mind, Mademoiselle.
- And this is a strange tree.
- It's a Igdrasil.
A memento of my childhood,
I draw it everywhere, doodling,
you know.
I've seen it before, in the pavillion,
by the pool.
In the pavillion?
Where it must have been drawn
on Sunday morning.
Oh yes, on the little table.
- But that was on Saturday afternoon.
- Non, non...
It was not there when Gudgeon
brought the cherry glasses.
- Then it must have been in Sunday afternoon.
- Non,
because Grange's men
did not leave the area until dusk.
Oh, yes! I remember.
It was after dinner, on Saturday.
Non, Mademoiselle Savernake.
People do not doodle in the dark.
No, I think you were in the pavillion
on Sunday, after 12:00,
when Gudgeon brought out
the cherry glasses.
I think you stood by the table,
watching someone, waiting for someone
and you doodled.
I didn't go down to the pool until 13:00.
Just after John Christow
had been shot.
But Igdrasil testifies against you.
You were there and shot Dr. Christow
or you were there and saw who did.
This is outrageous!
Do you think you are cleverer than I?
The inquest resumes tomorrow,
and all I've got is vague suspicions
leading to nowhere.
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?
Nothing from her either.
She went straight to Chelsea.
I searched her studio
with a fine tooth comb,
but there's no gun.
Just art pieces.
Sculptures,
funny looking horses,
bits of wood, metal...
- Horses, did you say?
- Wel, one horse.
If you can call it a horse.
- A horse?
- Yeah, what's so fascinating about that?
It's a point of psicology, Inspector.
How quickly can you get me up
to London?
What're you looking for, sir?
This.
The horse.
Merci.
Quite good, actually.
Merci.
Monsieur Poirot!
Mademoiselle Savernake
doesn't like horses.
Voilá.
I think that this will prove to be
the *** weapon.
- So Miss Savernake did it.
- Non!
Looks to me bloody likely.
No, Mademoiselle Savernake
is not, in my opinion,
a murderer.
Let us be quiet about our discovery,
for the time being, Inspector.
And watch.
Let us be intelligent.
Is Her Ladyship at home?
You will find Lady Angkatell
in the greenhouse.
If I might,
the inquest is concluded,
*** by person or persons
unknown.
Is it necessary to trouble
Her Ladyship further, sir?
Lady Angkatell.
Monsieur Poirot.
Tell me, what are your views
on compost?
I've come to offer you apologies
for the inconveniencies you have suffered.
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.
Oh, come, come, Poirot.
You understand perfectly!
Since Inspector Grange
has failed to find the *** weapon,
he'll have to let the whole thing drop.
You, I dare say, won't.
Non, I shall not let it drop.
What if 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 John Christow
is over and done with.
Could we, Madame?
You really are very foreign, aren't you?
Are you quite sure you have not
something, Lady Angkatell?
Something just came upon me,
you might have overlooked it.
I could be wrong, of course,
and you could've handled everything,
but since you never mentioned it,
I'm a little concearned...
What's the matter, Lucy?
- It's the holster.
- What?
Oh Henrietta, the holster!
The gun was in a holster!
- Yes, Collie?
- It's Miss Savernake.
The holster, Gerda!
Where is the holster?
You have to give me the holster
and then you'll be safe.
Not completely safe.
Dommage.
Poirot!
How did you...?
Sometimes, the fastest car
it is not fast enough, Mademoiselle.
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'd 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.
I believed in him
as though he were God.
I worshiped him.
And it was all a lie.
I had to kill him.
You do see that?
I had to!
I am not quite so stupid
as everyone thinks.
I knew I could kill John
and the Police would never know
because I had read in this novel
how they can tell
which gun fires the bullet.
So, I took two.
Sir Henry had shown
how to load and fire
the day before. It was easy.
You shove the cilinder
back into the frame
and you're ready for shooting.
I'd shot with one
then hide it
and let them find me
holding the other.
I forgot about the leather thing.
- The holster.
- I forgot about it too.
I also forgot.
The memory, it is selective,
n'est ce pas?
And then I heard Inspector Grange
mention this holster, this holster of leather--
I remembered where I had seen it before.
What's that?
Looks like leather work, sir.
Where is your bag
for the leather work?
I-I think it's in the surgery.
The surgery?
I seat there. In his chair.
I'll fetch it for you, shall I?
S'il vous plaît.
But Madame...
Oh, I'm not going anywhere,
don't worry.
When you return to your studio,
I'm affraid you'll discover
that one of your sculptures,
it has been destroyed.
It is the sculpture
of the head of the horse.
It could have worked, Mademoiselle,
if you did not tell 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 by the pool,
found John lying there
and just picked up the revolver
when we came on the scene?
This is what Gerda says?
Yes.
But why do you wanted 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.
Oui.
I began to realize the truth
when I saw there was a pattern,
a pattern to implicate everyone,
other than Gerda Christow.
You deliberatly planted Igdrasil
to catch my attention
and put yourself under suspicion.
I put the pistol on the egg basket
and then I put the new eggs
on top of the pistol.
Oh, I doubt there'll be
any fingerprints, sir.
Because I polished it with my handkerchief
before replacing it, sir.
And Lady Angkatell, and the family,
they closed hands and colluded, because...
There's only one thing to do, if you want
to clear from suspicion the person who is actually guilty,
suggest guilt elsewhere,
but never localize it .
- Vite!
- Oh, my God!
Gerda!
Gerda!
Help her, for God's sake!
It is too late.
Potassium Cyanide.
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.
Resynch & translation by titta
to Addic7ed.com