- Good morning, Mavis. - Oh, you be up early, Mrs. Slocombe.
Well, I had rather a restless night.
Did miss Brahms keep you awake with her snoring again?
Oh, no, no, no. But my pussy was very agitated.
All those American tourists
would insist on giving her tidbits.
Then the poor thing got her paw stuck
in some chewing gum. And during the night
when she went to wash her face,
you know, the way cats do...
She got her paw stuck in her left ear.
Oh, the poor thing. Did you get it off?
Well, I tried to, Mavis, but she ran away.
Never you mind.
You have a nice cup of tea.
- Well, there's no milk. - Oh.
Morning, Mrs. Slocombe.
My word, you shouldn't walk round
in a flimsy outfit like that.
Set a bloke on fire.
If one is as dried up as what you are,
I should imagine you'd burst into flames very easily.
Now then, you two, don't start.
I brought the eggs and the milk.
You oughta let me do the milkin'.
It's bad for your back, all that bending down.
Oh, I got round that.
I walked the cow up on the milk cart,
and took out a couple of floorboards,
and milk her standing up.
Got some in me hat.
I'll have my tea with lemon, Mavis.
Good morning, Mrs. Slocombe.
- Good morning, Mavis. - Oh, morning.
Don't I get a good morning, then?
Or am I invisible?
I'm sorry, Mr. Moulterd,
you are very visible.
Not to mention aromatic.
Well, I'd better be off,
I got a load of muck to take up to the top field.
What an exciting life one leads in the country.
There's no need to look down on us country folk,
just 'cause we're close to the soil.
My dad's an 'ard worker, and he's got a big 'eart.
Pity it's in such an unattractive wrapping.
You get on with your porridge.
And what has happened to Mr. Humphries this morning?
Oh, he's very tired, he's up all night.
Any specific reason?
Well, he said he had a bad arm from doing this
behind the bar with the Americans.
And what exactly was he doing?
Shaking cocktails.
I'll go and see if I can arouse him.
You know, Steven, between you and me,
I don't think that girl's in a very healthy situation.
She's besotted with Mr. Humphries,
and being a simple country girl,
I don't think she realizes
that he's not what you might describe...
In the widest possible terms...
A woman's man.
Yes, and on the other hand,
he's not, within the same boundaries you describe,
- a man's man. - True.
Do you think we should tell her?
Mrs. Slocombe... Betty...
How do you break it to a person
if they've got a mad, passionate crush
on somebody in limbo?
- Morning. - Oh, good morning, miss Brahms.
Does anyone know, is it bad luck
to pass a three-legged cat on the stairs?
Oh, the poor thing. I must go and help her.
Don't worry, don't worry.
It was only chewing gum.
I picked her up and pulled it off.
Last time I saw her, she was sat
in front of the mirror looking at her bald patch.
Where's Mr. Humphries?
We were just discussing the developing situation
between him and miss Moulterd.
We were thinking that on the one hand,
it hasn't gone very far, but on the other,
it's probably gone far enough.
What's the latest?
We don't know.
Apparently he was up all night.
Was he?
As a result of the, uh,
the over-vigorous use of his cocktail shaker.
Good morning, everybody.
Excuse my bare foot.
One slipper is stuck
on the third stair from the top.
- Chewing gum? - I'm afraid so.
I had the same trouble with mine.
I had to put a cold plaster on it.
You're bad.
Come on.
Wake up, Mr. Humphries. Wake up.
Oh, wake up! Your porridge'll be getting cold.
Oh, it's you, thank heaven for that.
Oh, do you know, these Americans
have been giving me nightmares?
I dreamt I was at a gunfight
at the O.K. Corral.
I wouldn't have thought that was in your nature, Mr. Humphries.
Well, it isn't, Mavis,
but this big cowboy just said to me,
"this town isn't big enough for both of us."
Well, I tried to reason with him.
I suggested we got a little flat in New York.
Well, that seemed to antagonize him.
He unbuttoned his holster, and he said,
"I'll go for mine and you go for yours."
I was just feeling for it when you woke me up.
All the Americans have gone.
So you mustn't let them play
on your mind no more.
A nice plate of porridge is what you need.
And we'll have to get some bigger blankets.
- What's wrong with these? - You keep draggin' 'em off me.
Every time I try to snuggle up close,
you turn the other way.
I'm used to sleeping alone.
Would you rather I ask Captain Peacock
if I could bunk up with him?
I don't think that's a good idea.
Do you think he'd mind?
I think you'd better get some bigger blankets.
By the way, here's your slippers.
Thank you.
Where did you used to sleep before I came?
Well, I couldn't sleep in dad's cottage,
the noise there was somethin' awful.
- Snoring? - Uh... well,
that as well.
And what with the cows on the other side,
I didn't get a wink.
'Course in the summer I used to enjoy campin' out.
So did I.
I was always a bit of a tomboy.
So was I.
Have you any sisters or brothers?
Well, not that I know of, no.
I've got a lot of uncles.
They used to visit me mother in the parlor
after I'd gone to bed.
Most of them were sailors.
Full of tattoos.
There was one of them,
he had a big tattoo right down his back,
of a hunting scene.
You could just see the tail of the fox.
Well, you can put all that behind you,
- you've got a family now. - What?
Well, there's Mrs. Slocombe and Captain Peacock,
and miss Brahms.
That lot's very fond of you,
and so am I.
You can think of me as your big sister.
In fact, you can call me...
Big sis.
You can be the brother I never had.
Yeah, I think we'll keep it that way.
Ah, Mrs. Slocombe, there's a letter for you.
Oh. Oh, thank you, Mr. Rumbold.
Oh, miss Brahms, I recognize the handwriting.
It's from Mrs. Axelby.
Mrs. Axelby?
I thought she was managing a beach cafe
out in Torremolinos.
It didn't work out quite like that.
You know that Spanish waiter
she was going out with?
Well, he didn't own the place,
and now she's mucking in
as a beach attendant.
Looks like she's still doing it.
Oh, I say, the poor thing.
Ooh, she's saving up to get home.
She's working on a nude beach!
With very small tips.
She's says it's up and down all day...
- With the umbrellas. - Oh, fancy.
Oh, she says it's ever such hard work,
getting all those mattresses in at night.
Well, you know, I warned her.
But, you know, she shouldn't be doing all that bending.
Not after her operation.
No.
And not with all them Spaniards about either.
Here, she hasn't got to be nude as well, has she?
Oh no, not Mrs. Axelby.
Not with her skin, she'd be red raw.
It's the Irish blood, you know.
I mean, she could be covered in calamine lotion,
and still blister from head to foot.
Even in whitley bay.
Funny you should receive a letter from an old friend.
Captain Peacock has just had an invitation
for an old comrade's reunion.
He's gone up to the writing room
to reply on Millstone manor notepaper.
Between you and me, I think he's a bit of a snob.
Well, I blame his parents
for sending him to Reading Grammar School.
Good morning.
Ah, miss Lovelock,
perhaps you'd countersign this check?
It's from the tourist operator
for the American party.
You've been astride your mount again, have you?
Yes, darling. Had a two mile gallop,
a couple of jumps, and a gentle canter back.
It's very good for the muscles, especially the bust...
If you catch it in time.
I'll have you know it's as firm as it was
when I was 16!
I'm sure there must be dozens of errand boys
who are still alive that could confirm your story.
Don't demean yourself, miss Brahms.
She's not worth telling to get stuffed.
Miss Lovelock, next time you decide to jump a hedge,
would you bear in mind that there might be someone
crouching down behind it?
Oh, it was you. You gave my horse quite a fright.
I had stuffed me pipe,
and I was out of the wind flicking me Zippo.
What exactly's that, Mr. Humphries?
Oh, it's a lighter that can do it anywhere.
It was given to me by that nice American gentleman,
Mr. Conklin.
He said it was for the man who had everything.
I don't know what he meant.
Well, I'm going into town.
I'll take this to the bank and pay it in.
I say, an extraordinary thing happened.
I was in the writing room, looking for some paper
to reply to a rather important invitation that I received,
and I opened the drawer of the bureau,
and came across this.
My heavens! A revolver!
Actually, Mr. Rumbold, it's an automatic.
Perhaps it belonged to young Mr. Grace.
What would an old gentleman like young Mr. Grace be doing with a gun?
Perhaps he was on the fiddle with his V.A.T.?
- Is it loaded? - I haven't looked.
You know, it's rather like the lugers
we used to take off the German officers in the Western Desert.
I shouldn't fiddle with it, Captain Peacock.
I've had many of these...
You've shot Mr. Humphries!
Say something, Mr. Humphries!
Say somethin'!
Me pipe's gone out.
Make it a strong one, Mavis,
we've all had a nasty shock.
Oh, I thought Mr. Humphries was a goner.
Good job it only hit that bottle of gin.
Yes.
Pity it was a full one.
Will you take this in when it's done?
I must go and help dad in the fields.
Right. Now would you like another Brandy,
Captain Peacock?
No, I think four is enough.
I don't think you should have told
the police to come here, Mr. Rumbold.
You should have just handed the gun in
and told them we found it. 'Cause we did.
Well, I think he did the right thing.
The police are very sensitive about guns these days.
They'll want to know how it got into the drawer.
Some terrorist might have put it there.
Yes, and after all,
you-know-who lives nearby.
No. Who?
Well, you may not know who,
but those in the know who follow what's what
and who's who would know who.
Are we speaking the same language?
There are a lot of big nobs in this county.
With royal connections.
"I think one will go and have a game of Polo..."
I didn't know he lived round these parts.
Just over the hill, darling.
- Who's over the hill? - Not you, Mrs. Slocombe.
We were talking about our royal neighbor.
Oh, well, he might be getting on a bit,
but she's certainly not over the hill.
I think you've exaggerated the importance
of the whole thing, Mr. Rumbold.
After all, this is a simple country house
near a simple country village.
Policeman plod will be round on his bicycle.
I explain that I found the pistol in a drawer,
he'll have a cup of tea, that will be the end of it.
There's no need to mention you fired it.
- I quite agree. - If he's not here soon, I'm going into town.
My, my. Sounds as if they've managed to find a car.
They've found a lot of cars.
This is the police!
I repeat, this is the police!
We are armed, and you are surrounded.
It is useless to resist.
Come out with your hands above your head!
What exactly did you tell them
on the telephone, Mr. Rumbold?
I... I'm trying to remember.
I think I said, "this is Millstone manor.
Captain Peacock has a loaded gun..."
And I was about to say,
"which he found in a drawer of the bureau," when they hung up.
Can you hear me, Peacock?
Come out with your hands above your head,
and no one will get hurt!
Shall I open the door, Captain Peacock?
They think you're a terrorist!
I think you'd better do as they say.
What if they have a shoot to kill policy?
I'll tell them that they've made a mistake.
You've made a mistake.
Captain Peacock will come out and explain it to you.
If you promise not to shoot him.
He's just putting his jacket on.
Don't no one move!
So much for English "O" levels.
Dad?
Dad!
What's up now?
Well, there's been a big bang at the manor.
Smoke's comin' out of the window.
Ah, I expect that's Mr. Humphries with his pipe.
He don't know how to control it.
Dad.
The drive's full of police cars.
Oh, we'd better get back.
Hang on tight, I'm gonna give the tractor some wellie.
Right. Hands behind your heads, spread your legs.
I never thought I'd hear that in the country.
That means you at the end, you as well.
This is as far apart as they go.
Right, none of you move till I tell you.
Which one of you is Captain Peacock?
Frisk him.
- He's clean. - Sit him in this chair.
Come on.
So, you'd taken this lot hostage, had you?
Oh, certainly not. They're my friends.
Oh, I see. You're all in it together, are you?
You've got quite the wrong idea, inspector.
You see, we've all served together
for at least 15 years.
Oh, done time, have ya? Got form.
May I say something?
Frisk him. He's got a bulge in his pocket.
That's my... my pipe! Please!
Get your hands up!
Oh, get off!
They're very thorough, aren't they?
- It is his pipe, sir. - I said it was, didn't I?
Miss Brahms, do you think they're going to frisk us?
I'd like to see 'em try.
Take a note, Colin.
One of his molls adopted a threatening attitude.
Perhaps I might say something.
I was the one who made the phone call.
I know. You said there was an armed man loose in the hotel.
That's not quite how I put it.
I merely wanted to notify you that Captain Peacock
had found a gun in an upstairs desk.
We wished to hand it over to the police.
- Well, here it is. - Gun, sir!
Spread them legs, buddy, and no sudden movements!
In the circumstances, it'd be rather difficult.
- Get his gun! - Oh, let him have it, Mr. Rumbold.
That's the second bottle of gin.
Dad! They've shot Mr. Humphries again!
And there's smoke everywhere!
Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!
It's not a fire, you stupid...
- You stupid... - I'll give you the strap. Look at all that!
Hurry up with that tea, Mavis.
They've all been cross-examined in the hall.
I'm making a strong one for the inspector.
You give him a mouthful of foam
and it don't taste very nice.
I don't think
I'm very popular around here.
No, you're not.
And there wasn't even a fire.
Maybe not.
But that Inspector were put out.
Now, listen, you two,
I wasn't born yesterday.
Me and my Sergeant are witnesses to the fact
that you incited this man to attempted murder!
But I didn't. Really, I didn't.
You had a note of what he said, Colin?
Yes, sir. He said loud and clear:
"Let him have it, Mr. Rumbold."
Look, all he meant was give him the gun.
Anybody with half an eye could see
that Mr. Humphries is a very mild-mannered gentleman
who wouldn't incite anybody to do anything.
Not that, anyway.
Nevertheless he uttered those very words.
"Let him have it, Mr. Rumbold."
Whereupon you pointed the gun in my direction
and pulled the trigger. - As a matter of fact,
your Sergeant pulled the trigger,
- as he was trying to take it off me. - Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
I suppose you'll tell the jury
that we tried to fit you up?
It won't wash, my son, you're in it up to here.
Now, let's get back to square one.
You, Captain Peacock,
you are asking me to believe that you found this gun,
in a drawer, in the writing room?
- That is correct. - I suppose you'll tell me
you didn't know it was a Russian gun?
Does a Mackeroff mean anything to you?
I should think it'd mean quite a lot.
Just what are you implying?
Did you know that this make of gun
was a favorite weapon
of the Russian secret service?
I'm referring, of course, to the Kay-Gay-Bay.
Beg your pardon?
He means the KGB.
Ah! So you speak the language?
If I may say so,
Captain Peacock thought it was similar to a luger.
He said so before it went off the first time.
Now we're getting down to it.
You, Captain Peacock, fired the said gun
before we entered the premises.
Bit of a quarrel amongst the gang, was there?
We are not a gang!
As it happens, we all worked in the same department.
Mr. Rumbold was the department head,
and I was his second in command, so to speak.
I was on the counter.
- Espionage? - Y-fronts.
I see. A secret sale set up
to destabilize Democratic governments.
- Oh, god. - Second bullet's over here, sir,
behind the bar. - That's right.
It went between Mr. Humphries and myself
and broke a bottle of gin.
Which of you was it meant for?
- If I may say so... - Shut up, you.
You've got a posh accent. Were you at Cambridge?
I had a brief spell at the haberdasher's there.
Haberdashers. Yeah.
That's one of them public schools, isn't it?
Does the name Blunt mean anything to you?
Or Burgess or Maclean?
They were a pretty peculiar bunch.
Very peculiar.
You. You look like the Cambridge type.
Were you there as well?
- Were you turned? - Not at Cambridge.
Well, who's for tea?
You could do with it, all of you...
What are you doing to Mr. Humphries?
You get off of him!
- Are you his girlfriend? - Certainly not.
- We're just friends. - Would comrades be nearer to the Mark?
You can call it what you like,
but he's a perfect gentleman
and wouldn't do nothing to nobody.
I don't know what that does for my reputation, but thank you.
Don't let that tea get cold.
That's the printout of the backgrounds there.
Good, this is a life history of all of you from day one.
All except Mrs. Slocombe, sir.
The records don't go back that far.
Well, there don't appear to be
any political affiliations here.
You all appear to be who you say you are.
What boring lives you've all led... Except you.
Right. That leaves us
with two straightforward cases of attempted murder,
and one nasty case
of incitement to kill a policeman.
Uh, uh, could I have a word in private, sir?
Uh, all right. Step outside into the lobby.
Colin? None of you move.
I feel like a wet rag.
Fancy trying to liken me
with Blunt, and Burgess, and Maclean.
Well, in my opinion, he's overstepped his authority
and I am unanimous in that.
The police are a funny lot. Remember how they roughed you up
when you wouldn't get out of that dodgem car in Blackpool?
I was immobilized halfway through the ride
with a stuck pedal.
I said I wasn't going to pay, and I didn't.
No, but you paid the magistrate,
didn't you?
40 shillings, wasn't it?
Oh, yes, but that was for
hitting the policeman with my handbag.
Well, we'd better not mention that.
It's here, as a matter of fact, and the Soho affair
when you knocked the policeman's helmet off. That was a handbag as well.
Does it say in there about how you threw yourself
onto the King's horse with Mrs. Pankhurst?
Don't be cheeky, miss Brahms.
Those were minor offenses, Mrs. Slocombe.
They're trying to charge me with attempted murder!
I've never even had a parking ticket.
Oh no?
Would you by any chance be the same "Knuckles" Rumbold...
Leader of a roller skating gang,
suspected of stealing two grapefruit
and a Cox's orange pippin
from Rumford High street in 1947?
Good heavens, is that there?
And it seems
that the North Acton public library
is still awaiting the return of Lolita, Fanny Hill,
and Fly Fishing by J.R. Hartley.
That's where it went.
There's no privacy in one's life at all, is there?
I'm surprised that there's no mention
of Mr. Humphries.
Oh, but there is. Pages of it.
Starting from the day that he was found on the doorstep.
An abandoned baby?
I wasn't abandoned.
My mother put me out instead of the cat.
She was going through very emotional problems at the time.
Anyway, next door's Alsatian came
and carried me off and looked after me for a day or two.
Then I crawled back.
I didn't like the dog biscuits he was giving me.
Right, you'll be pleased to hear, Mr. Rumbold,
that there seems to be room
for reasonable doubt about your case.
Apparently, the Sergeant might have had his finger
in the trigger guard
near the time when the weapon was discharged.
So we won't proceed with that matter.
- What a relief. - What about me?
You can hardly charge him
with inciting a crime that didn't happen.
You could've done. But unfortunately,
these days, you can't rely on a jury
to come to a sensible conclusion.
Can we consider the whole matter closed?
No, we cannot. A gun was produced,
the shot was fired before we entered the premises.
We still have the possibility
of attempted murder on our hands.
There's one thing you've forgotten, Inspector,
one small detail that you've overlooked.
A detail without which
your case will collapse
in dust about your feet.
And what is that, miss Marples?
No motive.
Well, for instance, there is such a thing
as a crime of passion.
Crime of passion? I'll have you know
that bullet narrowly missed me.
Anything between you two that I should know about?
Certainly not!
It also, sir, just missed that lady
who's reclining on the sofa over there.
"Miss Lovecock."
Lovelock.
Your writing, Colin.
I have no reason to shoot miss Lovelock.
In fact, we get on extremely well together.
Maybe her and Mr. Humphries got on extremely well together,
and you wanted to get rid of a younger rival.
Actually, I'm not all that much younger.
It's just that I've always had a very good skin.
He's not after miss Lovelock.
He's too busy bunking up
with Mavis Moulterd.
I've told you all before, it's perfectly innocent.
She doesn't like sleeping with her father
because of the farmyard noises.
And she used to sleep with the chef,
and I took over where he left off.
Where did he leave off?
I don't know. He'd gone by the time I arrived.
Perhaps I could explain one or two points.
There is nothing going on
between Captain Peacock and miss Lovelock.
She doesn't even sleep in the house,
she sleeps in the groom's quarters.
I've got an arab there.
Anyway, we would know
if he got up to anything in the night,
'cause me and Mrs. Slocombe sleep next to him.
- What, the arab? - No.
- Captain Peacock. - He's a stallion.
Captain Peacock?
No, the arab.
It's an 'orse!
A Norwegian?
From Ireland, actually.
Let me see if I've got this right:
Mr. Humphries is sleeping
with the farmer's daughter,
miss Lovelock sleeps with the groom
and an Irish arab,
and Captain Peacock sleeps
with Mrs. Slocombe and miss Brahms. Is that right?
It'll do for now.
I think, sir, that, uh,
you're getting into rather deep water here.
I don't know if anyone's interested,
but I got a nice, big bun in the oven.
Get in the car, Colin.
Next time you lot find a gun in a drawer,
don't call the police, call the army.
And tell 'em to bring a social worker and a priest!
I think that went off well, don't you?
Is he gone?
Yes, he was very confused.
Drat! I've been keeping this blunderbuss under me bed.
Oh, dad, you still got that old thing?
Used to belong to grampar.
I thought perhaps I'd better hand it in.
Oh, quick then, you might just catch him.
- It were loaded! - This is the police!
The house is surrounded,
come out with your hands up!
I think we'll leave you to deal with this one, Mr. Moulterd.
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