Rogue Male (1976) - full transcript
Early in 1939 Sir Robert Hunter takes aim at Adolf Hitler with a high powered rifle, but the shot misses its mark. Captured and tortured by the Gestapo and left for dead, Sir Robert makes his way back to England where he discovers the Gestapo has followed him. Knowing that his government would turn him over to German authorities, Sir Robert goes underground in his battle with his pursuers.
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(CROWS CAW)
(GUNFIRE)
(EXPLOSION)
(GUNFIRE IN THE DISTANCE)
(BIRDS TWEET NOISILY)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(GRAVEL CRUNCHES UNDERFOOT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
MAN: Bitte.
(CAMERA CLICKS)
(CAMERA CLICKS)
Nein, nein, die andere.
Oh...
Gut.
Ja, gut.
(BIRDS CHIRP)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(CAMERA CLICKS)
- (CAMERA WHIRS AND CLICKS)
- (PEOPLE APPLAUD)
(GUN CLICKS)
(LEAVES RUSTLE)
(PHEASANT'S WINGS FLAP)
(PHEASANT SQUAWKS)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(GUNSHOT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
I was bored!
Bored? You're a liar!
- I am sorry...
- Sorry?
You tried to shoot the greatest man
the world has ever seen
and you say you are sorry?
It was a sporting stalk.
I'm sorry because
you don't have the wit to understand...
I went to school in England.
You say I don't understand English?
You understand English!
You just don't understand
Englishmen!
(IMPACT GRUNT)
- How did you get here?
- I walked.
- Walked?
- Safest way.
- Walked from where?
- Poland.
- That's over 200 miles!
- I go to a good bootmaker.
Sneyd, in Clifford Street.
You are an agent of
British Foreign Office intelligence.
Actually not.
I've seen little sign of intelligence
in the British Foreign Office
for a very long time.
You had a gun
with a bullet in the breach.
A very high powered,
very expensive gun.
One has to be properly equipped.
A stalk isn't a stalk without the weapon.
You may as well have an egg and spoon race
without a spoon.
And a bullet?
Does one have to have a bullet?
Habits are habits. Rules are rules!
It wouldn't have been cricket, otherwise.
Life is not a game of cricket, my friend.
No.
Pity.
Who sent you?
The truth.
You wouldn't know the truth
if it kicked you!
(HE WHIMPERS)
I'm a free individual.
I came on my own.
I am what my passport declares.
On page one, you will see
what His Majesty's Foreign Secretary
requests and requires of any foreigners
into whose hands I may fall.
I suggest you read it carefully!
Your passport.
"Sir Robert".
(HE SCOFFS)
You think we don't
know a forgery when we see one?
It is mine, actually.
Get one of your chappies
to call and confirm.
Connections are very slow from here.
We can pull out your fingernails
while we wait.
("BLUTROSE ROSEN"
PLAYS THROUGH GRAMOPHONE)
♪ Blutrose Rosen... ♪
♪ ...erzählen mir von dir ♪
♪ Märchen der Liebe von Sehnsucht ♪
♪ Und sie verraten so vieles mir ♪
♪ Ihr süßer Duft... ♪
♪ ...ist wie ein sehnsuchtsvoller Ruf ♪
♪ Ein Ruf aus weiter Ferne... ♪
♪ ...blutrote Rosen ♪
♪ Weit über Land und Meer ♪
♪ Trägt mir ihr Zauber... ♪
(TELEPHONE RECEIVER DINGS)
I did tell you it was genuine.
You tried to kill him.
You? Why?
- A man in your position.
- In my position?
An aristocrat, an English gentleman.
I would've thought you would have been
on our side, if anyone would
- Sir Robert.
- On your side?
As it is.
- I'm a bit of a problem.
- A nuisance, not a problem.
You can't just put me up
against a wall, can you?
- We are not barbarians.
- Because there'd be questions.
- I don't think so.
- Oh, but there will, you see
and you know there will.
- My uncle...
- Is a close friend
of our ambassador in London.
Oh, yeah.
Very close.
It's time you grew up, Sir Robert.
The world is changing.
Yes, for the worse.
We must find a way of disposing
of you that doesn't upset your uncle.
Well...
the author of "Rough Shooting",
the great hunter.
While a house guest,
a welcomed house guest
at a weekend shoot among the new leaders
of the world, whom he so much admired
Sir Robert, unfortunately,
went off on his own and suffered...
the mishap which lead to his death.
His body has been returned to London
with every mark of respect.
It will be interred in the family tomb.
I'm sure The Times will give you
at least half a column.
And what do you think
the blessed Foreign Office will make
of a body without fingernails?
Will they take that as a mark of respect
on the part of the New Order?
Good point, Sir Robert.
May I tell you my little scenario?
As a gentleman hunter you would,
of course be unable
to leave a wounded animal
without finishing it off.
Thank you.
So, having wounded a wild boar
during the course of a boring afternoon...
Oh, my God! The English sense
of humour never travels, does it?
You followed it cross country to here.
You cornered it, it charged,
you were caught off balance
and really it's most unfortunate,
almost idiotic...
You managed to grab the edge
of the cliff
of course, tearing your fingernails
to shreds in your frantic efforts
to redress the situation.
But...
I fear, in vain.
What a lot of trouble you are going to,
I must say.
HUNTER: Cut above the usual
cut-throat, aren't you?
(BOAR THUDS)
Now we come to your part
in the scenario, Sir Robert.
Believe me, "this hurts me
as much as it hurts you"
as we used to say at Charterhouse.
Did you really?
Mousy little middle-class school.
- We can't all go to Eton.
- Thank God!
Oh, chuck me over
and have done with it!
The scenario, Sir Robert, the scenario.
Think of your uncle.
Such a family man.
We must convince him
that it was an accident.
Isn't that what we agreed?
(EFFORT GRUNTS)
We'll come back in the morning
with a couple of honest peasants
to find the body.
The more stupid the witnesses are
the more likely the British are
to believe them.
We must leave you now, Sir Robert.
The Fuhrer likes to dine promptly
and it's getting late.
(TREE BRANCHES SNAP)
(MILITARY-STYLE MUSIC)
Move!
Move!
Move, you lump!
(HE GROANS)
Gods!
Shh!
I know you're there, Sir Robert!
Hm? Gone to ground.
Am I right? Gone to ground.
Isn't that what a hunted beast does?
Goes to ground?
(HE WHISTLES)
But the human animal, being more clever
thinks that the running water
will cover his tracks.
(HE SNIGGERS)
Poor Sir Robert.
HE SHOUTS:
We'll soon catch you up, Sir Robert!
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
(FISHING REEL SQUEAKS)
Excellent.
Excuse me, mein Herr.
Nicht sprecht Deutsch.
You don't speak English
by any chance, I suppose?
You are English?
Yes, and a sportsman, like yourself.
Afraid I've had a bit of bother.
- Accident?
- In fact, not.
How did you get here?
Make 'em yourself?
- Of course.
- Good man.
Look here, I need a few things,
I'm afraid.
It's asking a lot, I know.
I come out here in the mornings, early.
Because before the sun comes up...
Oh, yes.
It's still paradise.
Isn't it?
What is it you are wanting?
Clothes, gloves,
shaving tackle, if possible.
Old stuff, nothing they can trace
back to you if I'm... if I'm caught.
There's money in my pocket,
or should be, if you can get your hand in.
I can't, without... difficulty.
- English?
- Yes.
I won't tell you who I am
or what I've done.
It's better you shouldn't know.
But I've shaken them off.
I know that because I've been
holed up here for a couple of days...
I needed a bit of... well...
peace and quiet.
Sorry to spoil your sport.
I forget something, I'll go back.
Hunting, shooting and fishing.
Do rather tend to dominate things.
(ENGINE CHUGS)
Good man!
I also brought some food.
Yes, I could certainly eat.
Milk with brandy. Drink.
- You are Jew?
- Me?
Good heavens, certainly not. A Jew?
Good heavens, no.
Get changed.
Then you lie in the bottom of the boat
and I will get you across.
You speak amazing English, sir.
I was three years a prisoner of war.
Were you, really?
I was lucky.
In Lanarkshire.
Lovely spot.
Not in January.
No, no. On the nippy side then,
I must say.
How will you go from here?
Yes...
How far to the, um...
to the, uh...
mouth of the river?
I'm hoping with any luck I'll find a ship.
My problem is getting down river, of course.
Now, they're liable to be watching
the roads and so forth.
But the um, the river...
I don't like the English.
Now we...
we can be an acquired taste...
Take the boat.
That's very royal of you.
If you are caught, I shall say you stole it.
Which I shall endorse.
If you're not,
I shall tell my wife I sold it.
In which case,
you'll need to buy a new one.
Yes.
I, uh...
I appreciate this, mein Herr.
- Scum!
- I'm sorry?
Those people.
You have about 50 miles to go.
Go slowly.
Yes.
Slowly does it.
- If anything does.
- There's a rod in the boat.
I hope you have some luck.
I shan't shake your hand because...
my hand isn't really up to it.
But I salute you.
You're a sportsman.
(ACCORDION MUSIC PLAYS)
- Dankeschön.
- Bitte.
SEAMAN 1: Right. "Two minutes, the lot",
that's what you said.
And if I do it?
You get the five bob.
Otherwise, I get it. A bet's a bet!
Whose two minutes, yours or mine?
Forgive me, but you sound you people
as though as you need a time keeper.
I said you was British!
Didn't I say he was British?
Soon as you came in, sir.
And I thought the same about
both of you.
Two minutes? That's the bet?
- Gentleman's decision's final. Agreed?
- Agreed.
Right, ready?
Go!
Sailing tonight?
I am. Nobby isn't.
Condition he'll be in,
it's just as well, I shouldn't wonder.
(SEAMAN SIGHS)
I'm going home with, uh...
Oh, very nice.
British ship?
British tub...
The Welsh Maid, number two dock.
You can't miss her.
Cleanest, smartest bit of scrap metal
in the harbour.
- What's old man like?
- He's like the old man.
No one like him.
Old-school. Everything by the book.
Luckily, old Vaner's is a bit more human.
- Vaner? Is that the mate?
- Right.
Not easy, mind. But fair.
I have to give him that.
I mean he can be a right swine,
if you know what I mean, sir, but...
fair with it.
HUNTER MUMBLES: Yes.
Are you looking for a ship, sir?
Yes, I am, rather.
Don't bother buying The Welsh Maid,
that's my advice.
Hey, how long's he had, sir?
Oh, good heavens!
SEAMAN GROANS AND MUMBLES
Time's up!
Ah, you gave him too long, sir!
- You gave him too long!
- I've done it!
- No!
- Come on!
HUNTER: Look, look, it's my fault,
so let me settle both sides.
It's only cricket!
Another round on me.
♪ Roll me over in the clover ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
Sing for the love of God,
you sods, sing!
THEY ALL SING:
♪ Now this is number one ♪
♪ And the fun has just begun ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Roll me over, in the clover ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Now, this is number two
and my hand is on her shoe ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Roll me over... ♪
- See you later, mates!
- SEAMAN 1: OK then, mate.
- SEAMAN 2: Right you are, mate.
- Mr Vaner on board?
- I think he is, sir, yes.
Who shall I say asked?
Just tell him I'd like a word with him,
would you?
If possible...
So you're old Vaner.
I'm Vaner.
Robert Hunter. How do you do?
The cook seems to think
we know each other.
I hear you're sailing tonight.
And?
I've had a bit of trouble
with our friends the sausage eaters.
I need a passage rather badly.
Can't be done.
No accommodation.
Try a liner.
Would if I could, but I can't.
The old man's a stickler, I'm afraid.
When he comes back I know what he'll say.
You don't look like a stickler, Mr Vaner.
Show me where I can hide,
and on my word on it
no one will see me before, during
or after we make it to England.
I hate to dramatise,
but it's literally life or death.
- They knocked you about.
- Yes, they did rather.
They knock everybody about,
women included...
Yes, women included.
Better things to be done
with women than knock them about.
I think you're probably right.
I'll tell you what we've got.
A spare water tank, empty.
If you fancy it for a few days.
A few days... Where do we dock?
Right up river. Wandsworth.
Wandsworth, do you really? I don't think
I've ever been to Wandsworth.
There's always a first time, isn't there?
I'll show you your quarters.
(DOOR CLUNKS OPEN)
(SIREN WAILS)
Eine Angelrute!
That's a bit of luck, sir.
Just your size.
I'll have to screw you down.
So, here's some rations
and the best of luck.
I'll disconnect the overflow pipe,
give you a bit of ventilation, OK?
It's an opening into the captain's
cabin, actually
so you can hear him singing
Rock of Ages in the tub
and I hope you survive that.
POLICEMAN (IN GERMAN ACCENT):
Hello there!
See you in Wandsworth.
(LID CLATTERS SHUT)
CAPTAIN: What's this, Mr Vaner?
Evening, sir.
They want to search the ship.
Did they see what ensign we fly,
Mr Vaner?
- This is a British ship!
- POLICEMAN: We are looking for a criminal.
CAPTAIN: No one searches this ship
without my say so.
- Any stranger's on board, Mr Vaner?
- No, sir.
If my officer says there's
no one, there's no one.
I'm not gonna miss that tide.
(WATER RUNS)
CAPTAIN SINGS:
♪ Rock of ages cleft for me ♪
♪ Let me hide myself in Thee ♪
♪ Let the water and the blood ♪
♪ Rock of ages cleft for me ♪
♪ Let me hide myself in Thee. ♪
(SCREWS SQUEAK)
(SEAGULLS SQUAWK)
Thought I'd let you see
a patch of grey sky, sir.
Prove you're back where you belong.
HUNTER:
Thank you, Mr Vaner.
VANER: The old man is getting
his Sunday best on so we must be here.
Not too bored?
No. I recited the whole of the
Ancient Mariner just to see if I could.
Did you, indeed?
Well, I dare say
your troubles are over now, sir.
England! Home and beauty!
(REGAL-LIKE MUSIC)
HUNTER:
Hello, Uncle.
That's as may be.
Now, what the devil have you
been up to, Bobbety?
HUNTER:
It sounds as if you know.
It sounds as if I don't want to know.
HUNTER:
Know what?
People telephoning at all hours,
hauling me out in the middle of a rubber.
Can I say where you are?
How can I possibly say where you are
and count trumps at the same time?
It's no business of mine where you are.
You know, I've even had,
what's his name...
Champagne Charlie on the line.
I'd simply no idea that you were on
the German Embassy's dining list. Hm?
I thought I would be safe when I got home.
It seems I'm not out of the wood yet.
You know, you're a fool, Bobbety,
you're a fool!
What's happened to your eye?
Someone stubbed his cigar in it.
Huh?
Uncle, I'm a fool who
happens to be in a mess.
Not for the first time.
Who did this?
A follower of your friend Adolf.
What? The Mad Muller?
Well, I know he does employ
some pretty funny folk, but...
that's going a bit far.
What exactly did you do?
Pointed a gun at his master.
What?
They followed me to England.
I didn't think they'd do that.
They're even watching my digs.
Are they, though?
Look, Bobbety, you'd better
clear out right away.
Yes, that's my advice.
Just you buzz off.
Buzz off somewhere...
to Saskatchewan or some place.
Yes, Saskatchewan.
Where is Saskatchewan, by the way?
- Canada.
- Huh?
Good God. Because you have made
an outsize mess of things, Bobbety.
Outsize, and Neville is furious.
- Neville?
- Yes, Nev...
HE SIGHS
The Prime Minister.
Oh, that Neville.
Oh, I know, I know he may look like
a middle class denture salesman
but he is, after all,
His Majesty's first minister
and he is furious!
Or so I've been told because I...
I can't see that it makes much difference
to his appearance.
Uncle, what you think I should do?
Bobbety, I'm a member of the government.
How should I know
what people should do, hm?
Uncle, uncle, uncle...
I am serious.
You're no more serious than I am.
Do you realise you could be extradited?
If it's officially known
that you're still in the country
you could be sent back in chains,
if they requested it.
Bobbety, you see,
shooting heads of state
is never in season.
Even if they are jumped-up corporals,
they are protected!
Like... like ospreys.
So, you know what you are, Bobbety?
You're an outlaw.
Hm, you are an outlaw.
What do you suggest I do?
Do?
What any fellow with a shred of decency does
when he blots his copybook.
You'll make yourself scarce
and not embarrass your friends
or your sovereign.
Do you realise that this country
could be involved in a war over this?
It may be involved in a war, anyway.
No, no, no, nonsense, nonsense.
Neville has this Hitler fellow
mesmerised.
You wait and see.
They are out to kill me.
No. No.
No, you're exaggerating, Bobbety.
This chappie you saw was
probably just some bookie's runner.
- Yes. In Mayfair?
- Yes, in Mayfair.
Things are not what they were.
(HE CHUCKLES)
Then, they never were,
were they? Hm?
Oh, my poor boy.
You know, I remember warning you
once before not to be provocative.
That's not a matter
I'm prepared to discuss and you know it.
But I liked her.
I loved her.
Sorry, sorry.
Best keep off the subject.
So...
You're telling me to go to Hell,
is that it?
Oh, why not?
There's no place like it
in my experience.
Bobbety, I'm only sorry
I'm not young enough to go with you.
You won't tell anyone you'd seen me?
Don't be insulting, Bobbety.
- Robert!
- Saul.
Good Heavens!
You look like an advertisement!
Actually I thought I looked
rather democratic.
I bought the rig in what they call
a "department store".
Fact is, I rather think I'm being followed.
Curious you should turn up,
as a matter of fact.
- It's rather a case of "speak of the devil".
- Oh?
And why should you be doing that?
Because we've had some
very odd enquires about you.
Does the name "Quive-Smith"
mean anything to you?
Quive-Smith? Quive-Smith. Nothing.
Anything to eat?
Only my lunch.
A few gull's eggs and a half bottle of
Moet-Chandon '28.
You are welcome to them.
Or there's the typist's biscuits...
elastic-sided Petit Beurre.
(BELL DINGS)
He's a Major
and he says he's by way of
being an old companion-in-arms of yours.
A Lancer? English is he?
Couldn't be more so.
The fact my name was Abrahams
got him severe congestion of the larynx.
Oh, he said he knew you
and that he is the bearer of,
as they say
"information to your advantage."
An inheritance. Some fellow soldier.
The Colonel, no doubt,
left me the regimental silver?
I don't think.
Bring in my champagne and gull's eggs
for Sir Robert, please, Mr Peale.
HUNTER: Quive-Smith?
Never heard of him.
Anything else funny going on?
Anything else, Mr Peale?
Not directly, sir.
Only we do have a queer
customer outside, feeding the ducks.
Been there all week, sir,
during office hours
and I hear there's another one
just turned up in Theobald street.
He's been seen having a chat
with the duck-feeding gentleman
during the last couple of minutes or so.
Since Sir Robert's taxi drew up.
They've broken cover.
My gaudy plumage.
It pays to advertise.
I'll get the refreshments, sir.
See what else anyone knows.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Where does Peale get his information?
From leaning out of the window all day?
No, no, the Union.
Union?
Private detectives' Union.
They spot outsiders in no time.
I'm sorry to say the divorce business
being what it is
we have to brief as many of them
as we do barristers.
They like to keep on
the right side of Mr Peale.
What've you been up to?
I took a pot at your chum, Adolf.
Adolf?
Adolf?
Adolf.
You must be loopy.
You know why, Saul.
No one else does, but you do.
Rebecca.
You shouldn't blame yourself, Robert.
I blame myself.
And I blame them.
She knew what she was doing.
So did I, and I should have stopped her.
You couldn't have.
Anyway...
(DOOR OPENS)
Here we are, Sir Robert.
Seems they're still there, sir.
If I may suggest, sir
I'll accompany you when you go out.
I doubt they'll try anything in the street.
Not if there are two of us.
Still pack your right
hook, do you, Mr Peale?
I never go anywhere without it, sir.
Robert, are you getting absent-minded
in your old age?
Trying to eat gull's eggs
with your gloves on.
I have my reasons.
My hands still aren't too pretty to look at.
Then I won't look at them.
Better still, allow me.
(PLATE CLATTERS)
(SAUL TAPS THE EGG
ON HIS DESK)
Now, what are we gonna do about you?
Well, don't suggest anything
legal because there isn't anything.
My uncle's made that very clear.
Neville and his chums would ship me
back to our friends as soon as look at me.
Sooner.
I want to settle my affairs
and I need all the cash you can muster.
I may be, as they say
"underground for some time".
No trouble there.
You, um... you keep cash
in the office, do you?
When your name is Abrahams,
my dear Robert
you may eat with the best people
and even sleep with one or two of them
when they're in the mood
but you don't trust them.
Not ever... not entirely.
It may be peace in your time
but I don't think it is likely
to remain peace in mine.
Oh, Saul, for God's sake,
you're as English as I am!
And you're half-Irish.
Here's a body belt with 2,000 quid in it
and a 100 in sovereigns.
Any fellow Hebrew of mine will give you
a decent rate for gold wherever you are.
Saul, you're an ass!
Now, what about the land?
The documents are ready.
Do you want the present tenants to inherit
in the event of your death
subject to the creation of a joint trust
for their heirs. Wasn't that it?
- Good man.
- Here we are.
Splendid, splendid...
Now, one more thing.
If a coroner should sit on my body
and conclude suicide
don't believe one word of it.
- I'll go down personally.
- You'll do no such thing!
A corpse isn't worth the fuss.
Just remember.
I shall do that.
I promise.
- Get yourself another one, won't you?
- On your account. Don't you worry.
(BELL DINGS)
Here's one of them, sir.
And here, unless I'm much
mistaken, comes the gallant Major.
At the gallop.
He has a good tailor,
I'll say that for him.
HUNTER: Failing a taxi cab,
one takes a tube, I believe it's called.
Would you escort me, Mr Peale?
PEALE:
My pleasure, Sir Robert.
(NEWSPAPER VENDOR SHOUTS)
NEWSPAPER VENDOR:
Read all about it!
Take a shilling one, sir.
- A shilling one, please.
- (COINS CLATTER)
- Good luck!
- And you, sir.
Now!
How do I get to, uh...
Wimbledon Park?
Well, sir, you go via Leicester Square,
and Charing Cross.
TICKET CLERK: How much time
have you got? It's a little complicated.
All the time in the world.
Ticket, sir.
I'm in a hurry, damn you!
...to the northern line.
That will take you to Charing Cross.
- Yes.
- Charing Cross, the district line.
That will take you all the way
to Wimbledon Park.
Over there, sir.
TRAIN GUARD:
Mind the doors!
Funny the way it always does that, what?
One must have patience.
(LIFT HISSES)
(FOOTSTEPS ECHO)
- (FEET SHUFFLE)
- (ELECTRICITY BUZZES)
(MAN GROANS)
(TRAIN WHISTLE SOUNDS)
Sir Robert! What a pleasure to see you!
You're quite wrong, Jessel!
You haven't seen me.
Sir Robert?
I'm not here, Jessel and you
haven't seen me since my last trip.
Of course not, Sir Robert.
Now, here's a list of things I need.
(HE SIGHS)
- Billhook?
- Mm-hm.
What about a firearm?
No, Jessel I don't think I'll play it
that way.
Quite right, Sir Robert.
I'm not a criminal, Jessel.
Off on another of your trips,
I presume, Sir Robert?
When you get the stuff, I'll be
at the entrance of Wimbledon station.
- (TRAIN WHISTLE SOUNDS)
- NEWSMAN: Star News and Standard!
NEWSMAN:
Horrible murder! Read all about it!
- Star News and...
- Standard.
There you are, guv.
Thank you.
Star News and Standard!
Horrible murder, read all about it!
HUNTER (VO):
The Metropolitan Police wish to interview
a tall, well-dressed gentleman
in his early forties.
The booking clerk described him
as having no fingernails on his right hand.
(STEAM TRAIN CHUGS)
I came as quick as I knew how, Sir Robert.
But the West End...
They've got police,
and I don't know what, everywhere.
I suppose it's those Bolshies again.
Thank you, Jessel.
- Will you be alright, Sir Robert?
- Oh, yes, and meanwhile...
Of course.
(TRAIN CHUGS)
Even I don't know who I am.
(TRAIN HISSES)
HUNTER: I never hunted
with the Cattistock. Why not?
Why not?
I was only in Dorset once before in my life.
Do let's stop. I'm sweltering!
Five minutes.
We don't wanna get left behind.
Pub's shut. Give us the water.
Oh, I'm red hot, really I am!
(SHE SIGHS)
(MAN SNIFFS)
Do I look funny?
Funny? You? No. Why?
SHE MOUTHS: That man.
- What a frankly superb conveyance!
- Sorry?
The bike. I've never seen
anything quite like it.
There isn't anything quite like it.
Gerald built it.
HUNTER:
Gerald?
- I'm Gerald.
- HUNTER: Oh, how do you do?
Yes, now, you'll never believe this,
but I've been...
hunting high and low for a thing like this.
Oh, Gerald was thinking
of manufacturing them.
Weren't you, Gerald?
As a business.
I have given the matter some consideration.
Yes, I don't doubt. Now...
how much would a thing like this cost?
What? Er... 15 quid.
- That much?
- About.
Fifteen quid?
You said you could make...
HE CHUCKLES
Well, frankly, it's academic.
- Sorry?
- Point is, I need the bike right away.
Oh, well, we live in Leicester.
Do you really? I have an uncle
who lives near Leicester.
Oh, how lovely! Would I know him?
- I don't think so.
- We'll have to go home on the train.
Well, I'm very sorry if I've spoiled
your holidays.
Oh, well...
Suppose we said...
twenty pounds... cash
to compensate you for the inconvenience?
Twenty pounds?
Or shall we say guineas?
What do you say?
- I shall be sorry to let her go.
- HUNTER: In other words...?
Done!
Thank you.
Here's five...
(BIKE BELL TINKLES)
(CROWS CAW)
HUNTER (VO): No one will ever find us.
No one. Ever!
This is ours. Forever.
It's ours, but not forever, Robert.
I must go back.
I must.
You know I must.
The world won't go away. Not even for us.
Damn the world!
They trust me...
They rely on me.
I must.
- Without me...
- Without you...?
Not yet, Rebecca.
Not yet.
Darling Bobs...
(CHINKING NOISE)
(HE WHISTLES)
(HE INHALES DEEPLY)
(HE CONTINUES WHISTLING)
"She walks in beauty, like the night"
"Of cloudless climes and starry skies"
"And all that's best of dark..."
"...and bright"
"Meet in her aspect and her eyes."
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER:
Hello, puss.
Ah, you like that, don't you?
Can't call you Puss, you bugger.
No... What... Dark?
Asmodeus?
Yeah. Asmodeus.
(HE SINGS TO HIMSELF)
(BIKE CLUNKS AND SQUEAKS)
Oh, Foulsham, Professor Foulsham.
There may be a parcel for me.
No, sorry.
No parcel of that name at all, sorry.
Is there a letter then?
Well, there you are! Foulsham.
Kettle's boiling, Mum.
Excuse me.
HUNTER READS:
"A sinister stranger without fingernails..."
"...is haunting Dorset this week".
- GIRL: But Mum...
POST MISTRESS:
I want my cup of tea!
You do as you're told!
- (WOMAN SLAPS GIRL)
- May I have my letter, please?
- You'll have to wait.
- Ma'am, kindly satisfy yourself.
- Now, you keep away from me!
This letter is indeed
addressed to me
and I regret to tell you...
- I shall scream.
I don't doubt it.
Your behaviour is unworthy
of a position of trust
and I feel in duty bound to report it.
So good day to you, ma'am!
(SIRENS RING)
VOICE OF SAUL (VO):
As your legal advisor, my opinion
pedestrian as it may be,
is that you should go to the police
tell them the truth
and be damned to your addled ideas
of duty and honour.
If England is embarrassed by your existence
so much the worse for England.
Noblesse does not always oblige.
No.
Only when you wish it didn't.
INSPECTOR:
Birley, March!
There he is! After him!
(STEAM TRAIN CHUGS)
MAN (VO):
Of course, Major Quive-Smith!
A man in your position,
I'm happy to tell you what I know.
The local constabulary
almost nabbed him in Dorset.
The sub-post mistress
had her suspicions aroused
but the locals reacted a shade slow
and well, he was away
before they got to him.
He won't be within 100 miles
if you want an expert opinion.
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
When it comes to an expert opinion
I think I'll rely on Sir Robert's.
(BRAKES SQUEAL)
Thank you, Muller.
(BIRDS TWEET)
(HE SIGHS)
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
The rule is simple and infallible.
Find his waterhole
and patience will surely bring
your quarry within your sights.
(TENSE MUSIC)
Sir Robert?
(GUNSHOT)
Sieg heil!
- Major, look out!
- LOUD MEOW
(GUNSHOT)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Come back! Come back, you idiot!
Some stupid animal, and you go
and make a fool of yourself!
I'm no country man, Major.
You're no man at all!
- He better be dead.
- He is Major, I saw...
QUIVE-SMITH: Well, the dead man appears
to have gone to ground, doesn't he.
Well, I'm not prepared to root around
in the dark for a wounded rat.
Discipline, Quive-Smith.
Discipline, discipline.
(HE SIGHS)
Thirty-eight.
(BULLET CLINKS)
- (HE SIGHS)
- Close, Robert. Close.
"An elephant separated from the herd
is known as a rogue male."
"He is isolated..."
"...and he is dangerous."
"The Almighty..."
"...looks after the rogue male."
We hope.
We hope.
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
- Oh, Mr Drake?
- Eh?
I'm Quive-Smith.
Your wife and I spoke on the telephone.
Oh, yes, Major, indeed.
Not much of a day for sport, I'm afraid.
I'm a patient man, Mr Drake.
I'm willing to wait.
- Is there much about?
- Not a lot.
Not up here.
I haven't seen so much as a robin out there
all summer.
Oh?
- Persian cat up there.
- (HE LAUGHS)
You can't trap him,
you can't shoot him.
Oh, yes... Well, I'd like to see that room
if I may, your wife talked about.
(CAT MEOWS)
(CAT MEOWS)
Hello, Asmodeus!
You smelt the sardines, didn't you, eh?
Not up outside then, eh?
What's up outside?
You and me, what a pair, eh?
What a pair, you old villain.
"One shade the more, one ray the less"
"Had half impaired the nameless grace"
"Which waves in every raven tress"
"Or softly lightens o'er her face..."
Well, we'll just have to
sweat it out, my pretty.
We'll just have to sweat it out.
Mr Quive-Smith?
I must say your mum does cook
the most delicious apple crumble!
- Would you like some more?
- Oh...
Oh, yes... Just a little.
Thanks, that's fine.
Uh, no, thanks.
(DOOR CLOSES)
(CAT MEOWS)
Hello, Asmodeus!
Yes, it's not exactly a bed
of roses, is it Asmodeus?
Messy beast man, isn't he?
Well...
Have they gone or haven't they?
Have they gone or haven't they?
(CAT MEOWS)
Oh, they must have, mustn't they?
(TENSE MUSIC)
("BLUTROSE ROSEN" PLAYS DISTORTEDLY)
(SONG FADES OUT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(HE CRASHES TO THE GROUND)
FARMER: It's that beggerin' murderer after
my cheeses again, you see if it isn't...
Into t'barn and down t'dairy.
I knew 'e was a stealing of 'em.
I don't really think so,
you know, Mr Drake.
DRAKE: How'd that 'appen then?
Of itself, d'ye think?
(WOOD SPLINTERS)
Look at that. That's death-watch beetle
you've got in that.
I came across it once,
in the East Riding.
Tithe barn.
Chap fell right through
the roof and broke his neck, poor fellow.
I shouldn't fret yourself.
You're right, Major.
Mornin's time enough to worry.
QUIVE-SMITH:
Quite right, Mr Drake. Good night.
(LIGHT CLUNKS)
(DUCK QUACKS)
(DUCKS QUACK FRANTICALLY)
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
A wise hunter
does not disturb
frightened game at night.
Thank you, Sir Robert.
(CROWS CAW)
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER (MUFFLED):
Asmodeus?
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER:
Asmodeus?
Asmodeus?
(HUNTER TUTS AND WHISTLES)
- (METAL CLINKS)
- (EARTH TUMBLES DOWN)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(EARTH TUMBLES DOWN)
(HE KICKS THE TRAP DOOR)
(KICKING CONTINUES)
Sir Robert?
Sir Robert?
Can you hear me?
I hear you.
- How are you?
- Surviving!
You had a lucky escape...
temporarily, however.
One doesn't abandon
a wounded beast, does one?
One finishes it off.
It wouldn't be cricket otherwise, would it?
(HE SNIGGERS)
What?
I didn't speak.
Shall I tell you something funny?
While my capacity for laughter
is somewhat limited at the moment
you can try.
QUIVE-SMITH:
The night you lost patience...
Last night, by George! Wasn't it?
- I didn't lose patience!
- The night you lost patience!
I'd already given Drake
notice that we were off.
I'd already decided
that you'd got clean away.
Oh, I knew that you were somewhere about.
But we'd been searching down
by the spring and down in the old quarry
and I concluded that we'd missed the bus.
Funny, isn't it?
Hilarious.
- Shall we get down to business?
- Business!
What business?
If you're going to kill me, kill me!
Oh, my dear fellow.
I don't want you to die.
You could always donate me
to Whipsnade Zoo, I suppose.
(HE CHUCKLES)
There will be no need for anything as
drastic as that, I don't think
Sir Robert, at this particular juncture, no.
If my friends take my advice,
and they might well...
they'll tell me
to let you go back into circulation
just as if nothing had happened.
On certain conditions.
HUNTER:
Look here!
You won't get any more out of me
than your Gestapo did!
So don't waste your time!
My Gestapo?
They're not mine.
I am as British as you are.
Now what exactly do you want?
Well, I don't want to deceive you
in any way, Sir Robert.
So I think I'd better get back to my friends
and clear with them exactly
what I propose we should do.
You won't mind hanging on
for a day or two, will you?
I can't get out.
But I don't suppose you'll be coming in.
I assume you're familiar with
the end game known as stale mate?
(HE SNIGGERS UNDER HIS BREATH)
Well, it's staler for you
than it is for me, Sir Robert
if we must raise the subject.
Look, let's not play bluff, shall we?
You have only one course,
and that is to resign gracefully.
Oh, and please don't try
burrowing your way out
by some ingenious new route.
My chap is going to be out here
whenever I'm not
and he has such a nervous disposition
he'd probably shoot the moon
if it came up unexpectedly.
We'll talk tomorrow.
Pleasant dreams.
(WATER SPLASHES)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sir Robert?
Sir Robert?
QUIVE-SMITH:
Are you there?
I'm still here!
Sound man.
Because I've got some good news for you.
We shall have you out of there
inside the hour.
QUIVE-SMITH: You'll be free
to go home, to your place.
You'll be in time
for the first of the pheasant.
I'm very glad it's worked out this way.
I was sure it would.
I have enormous respect for you,
personally, you know, Sir Robert.
You're a member of a party, Major,
which respects nothing
but power and brute force!
And you're a man to go into
the jungle with, Sir Robert!
And that's the highest tribute I can offer.
Our party needs men like you!
Now, what is it exactly
that you want me to do?
It's time you told me.
I have a piece of paper out here.
Here, bring it here, Muller.
What I'll do
is I'll shove it down your
blow hole
on the end of a stick.
Alright...
Got it?
First catch your mouse,
and then give him the cheese.
Absolutely right!
Absolutely right!
Oh, this is rubbish!
The British Government
knew nothing whatsoever about my trip
and you know that perfectly well!
Look I'm not going to argue the toss,
one way or the other
about what anyone actually knew
or didn't know.
Your uncle's in the Cabinet.
Who's really going to believe
that you weren't given the nod?
- Weren't you?
- No.
Look...
I am as British as you are, Sir Robert.
I wish this country great.
Just as you do.
That document will never see
the light of day
unless Neville, and the Jews
force us into war
and then only to prove to public opinion
to the people of Britain
that it's a war that's been
forced on the Fuhrer
by pansy boys and weeping willies.
I don't sign lies!
QUIVE-SMITH: Truth! What is
the truth when it comes down to it?
What is true is the truth!
QUIVE-SMITH: And what is the truth
about this, so-called sporting stalk?
I wanted to see if it could be done.
You wanted to kill, I presume,
because you thought it would help.
- Help?
- Your country.
- If you like...
- In other words...
even if the Government,
the politicos, knew nothing about you
you were, as it were, acting for Britain.
- I don't see what all this matters!
- I'm sure you do, Sir Robert.
You mentioned signing lies.
It happens to be the truth
that I'm asking you to sign.
- I don't agree!
But your actions agree, Sir Robert,
which is more to the point.
Let us say that your motives were patriotic.
That makes them the same as mine.
You and I, Sir Robert,
belong on the same side.
We are two of a kind!
Don't assume that because we both
go to a good tailor
we're on the same side.
We are not!
Look, you're either going to do as I say
or say your prayers.
It's as simple as that.
- Sign and be done with it, or else...
- Suddenly, you're in a great hurry.
Well, I can't stand around here
talking all day, I shall get cramp.
Breathe some more of that lovely fresh air
you've got in there, my dear fellow
and tell me how it feels in the morning.
(CAT MEOWS)
(CAT MEOWS)
(GUNSHOTS)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Some company for you.
(MELANCHOLY MUSIC)
"A mind at peace with all below"
"A heart whose love is innocent!"
I hope by tomorrow
you'll be in the mood to be sensible.
By then, the atmosphere in there
ought to be conducive to reason.
REBECCA (VO):
I must go back.
They trust me.
They rely on me, I must.
REBECCA (VO):
Without me...
HUNTER:
Without you...?
Not yet, Rebecca.
HE IMITATES A GUN:
Pchook!
He'll be sorry, Asmodeus, old friend.
He'll be sorry.
(TINS CLATTER NOISILY)
(SCRAPING SOUND)
It's a splendid morning, Mr Drake.
Rain later I shouldn't wonder.
Yes, well, I shall profit from it
while I can.
(HE WHISTLES)
You can cut along now and get some grub.
QUIVE-SMITH:
And cheer up!
I don't suppose
you'll be needed much longer.
Morning.
- Sir Robert!
- HUNTER: Yes.
I said "good morning".
- Did you?
- Manners, my dear fellow, manners!
QUIVE-SMITH:
One must preserve the proprieties, you know.
How are you this morning?
Reasonable.
The air out here is splendid this morning.
How is it in there?
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sir Robert?
I'm still here.
You know, honestly, Sir Robert,
I never imagined a man like you
could be so
thoroughly unreasonable.
Didn't know that reason was
something you cared much about.
Oh, this is a nonsense, you know,
submitting yourself to this.
It's pure perversity, it really is.
You know, Major...
I've been thinking.
QUIVE-SMITH:
Purpose of the exercise, my dear fellow.
Even if I... I sign
this famous document of yours
whatever use will it be?
No one's going to see it.
There isn't going to be a war.
Your Fuhrer has promised
and we... we all know that,
if a man like that gives his promise...
QUIVE-SMITH:
I told you, it is a pure formality.
Unless someone on your side
gets up to some nonsense
and tries to foment a war against
this country's natural allies...
You see...
Sir Robert?
HUNTER:
What about...?
What about...?
What?
QUIVE-SMITH:
What about what?
This chappie of yours...
- QUIVE SMITH: Chappie?
- HUNTER: Your chappie!
How much does he know?
How do I know
I'm not going to be blackmailed?
QUIVE-SMITH:
He's a Swiss.
Forget him!
The Swiss are people of quite astonishing
dullness and rapacity, my dear fellow.
A combination nurtured by
generations of democratic government
and milk chocolate.
I... I'm rather fond of both.
Humbug, Sir Robert.
The British Lion is losing his teeth
on account of the one
and his will to fight
because of his addiction to the other.
Why prolong this ludicrous debate?
Sign!
Sign and then...
You're a natural leader, Sir Robert.
I know it, you know it.
QUIVE-SMITH: Now, what place do you have
amongst the rats and the rabbits?
My place amongst the rats and the rabbits
is, I assure you, none of my choosing.
So you want the world to belong to
the Jews and the niggers, do you?
Cos that's what democracy is.
Mr Roosevelt and his yankeedoodles
or the Great Russian bear
sprawled across Europe
with England between its paws!
HUNTER:
I don't know, I don't know... I...
I can't breathe. I can't think!
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sign the paper, man!
You can think later.
(HE CHUCKLES)
I've got a bottle of bubbly in the car.
I've bust the pen!
QUIVE-SMITH LAUGHS
Bust the pen? You are an ass!
A pen is the least of our problems!
- (QUIVE-SMITH LAUGHS)
- (WEAPON FIRES)
(TENSE MUSIC)
Here I am, Major...
- So you are.
- Wha...?
MULLER:
Don't kill me, sir!
- Name?
- Muller, sir.
Muller, of course...
Well, you certainly took to the work,
didn't you, Muller?
Burying a fellow human being alive
came quite naturally to you, didn't it?
I thought you were one
of the Major's men, sir.
He said you were.
Oh, sir, my wife...
Want to see her again?
My God, sir, I swear...
Yeah, well then swear quietly,
or better still, save your breath.
You've got work to do.
HUNTER:
Go on, man, pull him right in!
My God, sir!
Very cosy!
(HE SIGHS DEEPLY)
HUNTER:
A bit airless is it, in there?
Yes, sorry about that.
MULLER:
I won't say anything, sir. Ever.
To anyone. You can trust me.
Yes, I can, can't I.
Depressing, really,
now here's what we do.
After dark we'll toddle down to the farm
because we have to collect
our gear, don't we?
- But won't they...
- It looks like rain.
I shall wait in the car, like a gentleman,
and you will fetch out the bags.
HUNTER: The Major and I, as he so often
used to remark, are two of a kind
at least, to the casual eye.
HUNTER: Sorry to dash off, but all
good things must come to an end.
- Goodbye, Major!
- HUNTER: Goodbye dear
and remember,
don't bring out your queen too soon.
GIRL:
I'll remember, Major.
Premature exposure can sometimes be fatal.
DRAKE:
Bye then, Major.
I'd like to give you a kiss, Major!
HUNTER: You mustn't catch
a cold, my dear. Now, just stay in the dry.
Bye, bye, now. Bye bye.
Don't get too wet!
(AIR RAID SIRENS WAIL)
VOICE OF NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN:
I have to tell you now
that no such undertaking has been received
and that consequently
this country is at war with Germany.
Anyway, Neville asked me
would I care to renounce my duties.
(HE CHUCKLES)
And frankly, since I've never quite known
what these were
I readily agreed. So, yeah.
Oh, there you are, Bobbety!
I wondered when you'd surface.
I expected you a bit sooner, to be honest.
Oh, yes, but I couldn't find a taxi cab.
Ah, then of course, that explains it.
Because I had a word with Winston
and he says that if you care
to pop round by the Admiralty
he has an idea that might be
rather up your street.
Fine. I'll toddle round.
Yes, do that, do that...
Oh, and Bobbety.
You know that spot of bother
you talked to me about, hm?
Well, now it seems that their nibs
have passed the word, informally of course
that the whole thing can now be...
unofficially regarded as officially...
Dead and buried?
Hm...
Yes, if you like, if you like.
Fine, well, I'll go and see Winston.
Yes, do that and get him to give you
a good job right away
before he gets kicked out.
Because, you know, I don't think
he's going to last very long...
OK. Thanks, Uncle.
Oh, and Bobbety,
I'll be at the Athenaeum later
if you feel like a little plain supper
and some middle class company, hm?
Thank you, Uncle.
(HE LAUGHS)
You know, that's my nephew, Bobbety.
Oh, he's a splendid fellow.
But so silly.
Do you know what he did a while back, hm?
Oh, you're just not going to believe this,
but he actually tried to pot Hitler!
(HE CHUCKLES)
And missed. Very odd.
He's usually quite a decent shot.
GERMAN SOLDIER (VO):
Abteilung...
halt!
Gewehr auf!
Feuer!
(GUNSHOT RINGS OUT)
HUNTER (VO):
My plans are far advanced.
I recognise that I may not get away alive
but this time I shall not hesitate.
And that is really all that matters to me...
without you.
search Steam for PROJECT WARLOCK
(CROWS CAW)
(GUNFIRE)
(EXPLOSION)
(GUNFIRE IN THE DISTANCE)
(BIRDS TWEET NOISILY)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(GRAVEL CRUNCHES UNDERFOOT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
MAN: Bitte.
(CAMERA CLICKS)
(CAMERA CLICKS)
Nein, nein, die andere.
Oh...
Gut.
Ja, gut.
(BIRDS CHIRP)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(CAMERA CLICKS)
- (CAMERA WHIRS AND CLICKS)
- (PEOPLE APPLAUD)
(GUN CLICKS)
(LEAVES RUSTLE)
(PHEASANT'S WINGS FLAP)
(PHEASANT SQUAWKS)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(GUNSHOT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
I was bored!
Bored? You're a liar!
- I am sorry...
- Sorry?
You tried to shoot the greatest man
the world has ever seen
and you say you are sorry?
It was a sporting stalk.
I'm sorry because
you don't have the wit to understand...
I went to school in England.
You say I don't understand English?
You understand English!
You just don't understand
Englishmen!
(IMPACT GRUNT)
- How did you get here?
- I walked.
- Walked?
- Safest way.
- Walked from where?
- Poland.
- That's over 200 miles!
- I go to a good bootmaker.
Sneyd, in Clifford Street.
You are an agent of
British Foreign Office intelligence.
Actually not.
I've seen little sign of intelligence
in the British Foreign Office
for a very long time.
You had a gun
with a bullet in the breach.
A very high powered,
very expensive gun.
One has to be properly equipped.
A stalk isn't a stalk without the weapon.
You may as well have an egg and spoon race
without a spoon.
And a bullet?
Does one have to have a bullet?
Habits are habits. Rules are rules!
It wouldn't have been cricket, otherwise.
Life is not a game of cricket, my friend.
No.
Pity.
Who sent you?
The truth.
You wouldn't know the truth
if it kicked you!
(HE WHIMPERS)
I'm a free individual.
I came on my own.
I am what my passport declares.
On page one, you will see
what His Majesty's Foreign Secretary
requests and requires of any foreigners
into whose hands I may fall.
I suggest you read it carefully!
Your passport.
"Sir Robert".
(HE SCOFFS)
You think we don't
know a forgery when we see one?
It is mine, actually.
Get one of your chappies
to call and confirm.
Connections are very slow from here.
We can pull out your fingernails
while we wait.
("BLUTROSE ROSEN"
PLAYS THROUGH GRAMOPHONE)
♪ Blutrose Rosen... ♪
♪ ...erzählen mir von dir ♪
♪ Märchen der Liebe von Sehnsucht ♪
♪ Und sie verraten so vieles mir ♪
♪ Ihr süßer Duft... ♪
♪ ...ist wie ein sehnsuchtsvoller Ruf ♪
♪ Ein Ruf aus weiter Ferne... ♪
♪ ...blutrote Rosen ♪
♪ Weit über Land und Meer ♪
♪ Trägt mir ihr Zauber... ♪
(TELEPHONE RECEIVER DINGS)
I did tell you it was genuine.
You tried to kill him.
You? Why?
- A man in your position.
- In my position?
An aristocrat, an English gentleman.
I would've thought you would have been
on our side, if anyone would
- Sir Robert.
- On your side?
As it is.
- I'm a bit of a problem.
- A nuisance, not a problem.
You can't just put me up
against a wall, can you?
- We are not barbarians.
- Because there'd be questions.
- I don't think so.
- Oh, but there will, you see
and you know there will.
- My uncle...
- Is a close friend
of our ambassador in London.
Oh, yeah.
Very close.
It's time you grew up, Sir Robert.
The world is changing.
Yes, for the worse.
We must find a way of disposing
of you that doesn't upset your uncle.
Well...
the author of "Rough Shooting",
the great hunter.
While a house guest,
a welcomed house guest
at a weekend shoot among the new leaders
of the world, whom he so much admired
Sir Robert, unfortunately,
went off on his own and suffered...
the mishap which lead to his death.
His body has been returned to London
with every mark of respect.
It will be interred in the family tomb.
I'm sure The Times will give you
at least half a column.
And what do you think
the blessed Foreign Office will make
of a body without fingernails?
Will they take that as a mark of respect
on the part of the New Order?
Good point, Sir Robert.
May I tell you my little scenario?
As a gentleman hunter you would,
of course be unable
to leave a wounded animal
without finishing it off.
Thank you.
So, having wounded a wild boar
during the course of a boring afternoon...
Oh, my God! The English sense
of humour never travels, does it?
You followed it cross country to here.
You cornered it, it charged,
you were caught off balance
and really it's most unfortunate,
almost idiotic...
You managed to grab the edge
of the cliff
of course, tearing your fingernails
to shreds in your frantic efforts
to redress the situation.
But...
I fear, in vain.
What a lot of trouble you are going to,
I must say.
HUNTER: Cut above the usual
cut-throat, aren't you?
(BOAR THUDS)
Now we come to your part
in the scenario, Sir Robert.
Believe me, "this hurts me
as much as it hurts you"
as we used to say at Charterhouse.
Did you really?
Mousy little middle-class school.
- We can't all go to Eton.
- Thank God!
Oh, chuck me over
and have done with it!
The scenario, Sir Robert, the scenario.
Think of your uncle.
Such a family man.
We must convince him
that it was an accident.
Isn't that what we agreed?
(EFFORT GRUNTS)
We'll come back in the morning
with a couple of honest peasants
to find the body.
The more stupid the witnesses are
the more likely the British are
to believe them.
We must leave you now, Sir Robert.
The Fuhrer likes to dine promptly
and it's getting late.
(TREE BRANCHES SNAP)
(MILITARY-STYLE MUSIC)
Move!
Move!
Move, you lump!
(HE GROANS)
Gods!
Shh!
I know you're there, Sir Robert!
Hm? Gone to ground.
Am I right? Gone to ground.
Isn't that what a hunted beast does?
Goes to ground?
(HE WHISTLES)
But the human animal, being more clever
thinks that the running water
will cover his tracks.
(HE SNIGGERS)
Poor Sir Robert.
HE SHOUTS:
We'll soon catch you up, Sir Robert!
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
(FISHING REEL SQUEAKS)
Excellent.
Excuse me, mein Herr.
Nicht sprecht Deutsch.
You don't speak English
by any chance, I suppose?
You are English?
Yes, and a sportsman, like yourself.
Afraid I've had a bit of bother.
- Accident?
- In fact, not.
How did you get here?
Make 'em yourself?
- Of course.
- Good man.
Look here, I need a few things,
I'm afraid.
It's asking a lot, I know.
I come out here in the mornings, early.
Because before the sun comes up...
Oh, yes.
It's still paradise.
Isn't it?
What is it you are wanting?
Clothes, gloves,
shaving tackle, if possible.
Old stuff, nothing they can trace
back to you if I'm... if I'm caught.
There's money in my pocket,
or should be, if you can get your hand in.
I can't, without... difficulty.
- English?
- Yes.
I won't tell you who I am
or what I've done.
It's better you shouldn't know.
But I've shaken them off.
I know that because I've been
holed up here for a couple of days...
I needed a bit of... well...
peace and quiet.
Sorry to spoil your sport.
I forget something, I'll go back.
Hunting, shooting and fishing.
Do rather tend to dominate things.
(ENGINE CHUGS)
Good man!
I also brought some food.
Yes, I could certainly eat.
Milk with brandy. Drink.
- You are Jew?
- Me?
Good heavens, certainly not. A Jew?
Good heavens, no.
Get changed.
Then you lie in the bottom of the boat
and I will get you across.
You speak amazing English, sir.
I was three years a prisoner of war.
Were you, really?
I was lucky.
In Lanarkshire.
Lovely spot.
Not in January.
No, no. On the nippy side then,
I must say.
How will you go from here?
Yes...
How far to the, um...
to the, uh...
mouth of the river?
I'm hoping with any luck I'll find a ship.
My problem is getting down river, of course.
Now, they're liable to be watching
the roads and so forth.
But the um, the river...
I don't like the English.
Now we...
we can be an acquired taste...
Take the boat.
That's very royal of you.
If you are caught, I shall say you stole it.
Which I shall endorse.
If you're not,
I shall tell my wife I sold it.
In which case,
you'll need to buy a new one.
Yes.
I, uh...
I appreciate this, mein Herr.
- Scum!
- I'm sorry?
Those people.
You have about 50 miles to go.
Go slowly.
Yes.
Slowly does it.
- If anything does.
- There's a rod in the boat.
I hope you have some luck.
I shan't shake your hand because...
my hand isn't really up to it.
But I salute you.
You're a sportsman.
(ACCORDION MUSIC PLAYS)
- Dankeschön.
- Bitte.
SEAMAN 1: Right. "Two minutes, the lot",
that's what you said.
And if I do it?
You get the five bob.
Otherwise, I get it. A bet's a bet!
Whose two minutes, yours or mine?
Forgive me, but you sound you people
as though as you need a time keeper.
I said you was British!
Didn't I say he was British?
Soon as you came in, sir.
And I thought the same about
both of you.
Two minutes? That's the bet?
- Gentleman's decision's final. Agreed?
- Agreed.
Right, ready?
Go!
Sailing tonight?
I am. Nobby isn't.
Condition he'll be in,
it's just as well, I shouldn't wonder.
(SEAMAN SIGHS)
I'm going home with, uh...
Oh, very nice.
British ship?
British tub...
The Welsh Maid, number two dock.
You can't miss her.
Cleanest, smartest bit of scrap metal
in the harbour.
- What's old man like?
- He's like the old man.
No one like him.
Old-school. Everything by the book.
Luckily, old Vaner's is a bit more human.
- Vaner? Is that the mate?
- Right.
Not easy, mind. But fair.
I have to give him that.
I mean he can be a right swine,
if you know what I mean, sir, but...
fair with it.
HUNTER MUMBLES: Yes.
Are you looking for a ship, sir?
Yes, I am, rather.
Don't bother buying The Welsh Maid,
that's my advice.
Hey, how long's he had, sir?
Oh, good heavens!
SEAMAN GROANS AND MUMBLES
Time's up!
Ah, you gave him too long, sir!
- You gave him too long!
- I've done it!
- No!
- Come on!
HUNTER: Look, look, it's my fault,
so let me settle both sides.
It's only cricket!
Another round on me.
♪ Roll me over in the clover ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
Sing for the love of God,
you sods, sing!
THEY ALL SING:
♪ Now this is number one ♪
♪ And the fun has just begun ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Roll me over, in the clover ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Now, this is number two
and my hand is on her shoe ♪
♪ Roll me over, lay me down
and do it again ♪
♪ Roll me over... ♪
- See you later, mates!
- SEAMAN 1: OK then, mate.
- SEAMAN 2: Right you are, mate.
- Mr Vaner on board?
- I think he is, sir, yes.
Who shall I say asked?
Just tell him I'd like a word with him,
would you?
If possible...
So you're old Vaner.
I'm Vaner.
Robert Hunter. How do you do?
The cook seems to think
we know each other.
I hear you're sailing tonight.
And?
I've had a bit of trouble
with our friends the sausage eaters.
I need a passage rather badly.
Can't be done.
No accommodation.
Try a liner.
Would if I could, but I can't.
The old man's a stickler, I'm afraid.
When he comes back I know what he'll say.
You don't look like a stickler, Mr Vaner.
Show me where I can hide,
and on my word on it
no one will see me before, during
or after we make it to England.
I hate to dramatise,
but it's literally life or death.
- They knocked you about.
- Yes, they did rather.
They knock everybody about,
women included...
Yes, women included.
Better things to be done
with women than knock them about.
I think you're probably right.
I'll tell you what we've got.
A spare water tank, empty.
If you fancy it for a few days.
A few days... Where do we dock?
Right up river. Wandsworth.
Wandsworth, do you really? I don't think
I've ever been to Wandsworth.
There's always a first time, isn't there?
I'll show you your quarters.
(DOOR CLUNKS OPEN)
(SIREN WAILS)
Eine Angelrute!
That's a bit of luck, sir.
Just your size.
I'll have to screw you down.
So, here's some rations
and the best of luck.
I'll disconnect the overflow pipe,
give you a bit of ventilation, OK?
It's an opening into the captain's
cabin, actually
so you can hear him singing
Rock of Ages in the tub
and I hope you survive that.
POLICEMAN (IN GERMAN ACCENT):
Hello there!
See you in Wandsworth.
(LID CLATTERS SHUT)
CAPTAIN: What's this, Mr Vaner?
Evening, sir.
They want to search the ship.
Did they see what ensign we fly,
Mr Vaner?
- This is a British ship!
- POLICEMAN: We are looking for a criminal.
CAPTAIN: No one searches this ship
without my say so.
- Any stranger's on board, Mr Vaner?
- No, sir.
If my officer says there's
no one, there's no one.
I'm not gonna miss that tide.
(WATER RUNS)
CAPTAIN SINGS:
♪ Rock of ages cleft for me ♪
♪ Let me hide myself in Thee ♪
♪ Let the water and the blood ♪
♪ Rock of ages cleft for me ♪
♪ Let me hide myself in Thee. ♪
(SCREWS SQUEAK)
(SEAGULLS SQUAWK)
Thought I'd let you see
a patch of grey sky, sir.
Prove you're back where you belong.
HUNTER:
Thank you, Mr Vaner.
VANER: The old man is getting
his Sunday best on so we must be here.
Not too bored?
No. I recited the whole of the
Ancient Mariner just to see if I could.
Did you, indeed?
Well, I dare say
your troubles are over now, sir.
England! Home and beauty!
(REGAL-LIKE MUSIC)
HUNTER:
Hello, Uncle.
That's as may be.
Now, what the devil have you
been up to, Bobbety?
HUNTER:
It sounds as if you know.
It sounds as if I don't want to know.
HUNTER:
Know what?
People telephoning at all hours,
hauling me out in the middle of a rubber.
Can I say where you are?
How can I possibly say where you are
and count trumps at the same time?
It's no business of mine where you are.
You know, I've even had,
what's his name...
Champagne Charlie on the line.
I'd simply no idea that you were on
the German Embassy's dining list. Hm?
I thought I would be safe when I got home.
It seems I'm not out of the wood yet.
You know, you're a fool, Bobbety,
you're a fool!
What's happened to your eye?
Someone stubbed his cigar in it.
Huh?
Uncle, I'm a fool who
happens to be in a mess.
Not for the first time.
Who did this?
A follower of your friend Adolf.
What? The Mad Muller?
Well, I know he does employ
some pretty funny folk, but...
that's going a bit far.
What exactly did you do?
Pointed a gun at his master.
What?
They followed me to England.
I didn't think they'd do that.
They're even watching my digs.
Are they, though?
Look, Bobbety, you'd better
clear out right away.
Yes, that's my advice.
Just you buzz off.
Buzz off somewhere...
to Saskatchewan or some place.
Yes, Saskatchewan.
Where is Saskatchewan, by the way?
- Canada.
- Huh?
Good God. Because you have made
an outsize mess of things, Bobbety.
Outsize, and Neville is furious.
- Neville?
- Yes, Nev...
HE SIGHS
The Prime Minister.
Oh, that Neville.
Oh, I know, I know he may look like
a middle class denture salesman
but he is, after all,
His Majesty's first minister
and he is furious!
Or so I've been told because I...
I can't see that it makes much difference
to his appearance.
Uncle, what you think I should do?
Bobbety, I'm a member of the government.
How should I know
what people should do, hm?
Uncle, uncle, uncle...
I am serious.
You're no more serious than I am.
Do you realise you could be extradited?
If it's officially known
that you're still in the country
you could be sent back in chains,
if they requested it.
Bobbety, you see,
shooting heads of state
is never in season.
Even if they are jumped-up corporals,
they are protected!
Like... like ospreys.
So, you know what you are, Bobbety?
You're an outlaw.
Hm, you are an outlaw.
What do you suggest I do?
Do?
What any fellow with a shred of decency does
when he blots his copybook.
You'll make yourself scarce
and not embarrass your friends
or your sovereign.
Do you realise that this country
could be involved in a war over this?
It may be involved in a war, anyway.
No, no, no, nonsense, nonsense.
Neville has this Hitler fellow
mesmerised.
You wait and see.
They are out to kill me.
No. No.
No, you're exaggerating, Bobbety.
This chappie you saw was
probably just some bookie's runner.
- Yes. In Mayfair?
- Yes, in Mayfair.
Things are not what they were.
(HE CHUCKLES)
Then, they never were,
were they? Hm?
Oh, my poor boy.
You know, I remember warning you
once before not to be provocative.
That's not a matter
I'm prepared to discuss and you know it.
But I liked her.
I loved her.
Sorry, sorry.
Best keep off the subject.
So...
You're telling me to go to Hell,
is that it?
Oh, why not?
There's no place like it
in my experience.
Bobbety, I'm only sorry
I'm not young enough to go with you.
You won't tell anyone you'd seen me?
Don't be insulting, Bobbety.
- Robert!
- Saul.
Good Heavens!
You look like an advertisement!
Actually I thought I looked
rather democratic.
I bought the rig in what they call
a "department store".
Fact is, I rather think I'm being followed.
Curious you should turn up,
as a matter of fact.
- It's rather a case of "speak of the devil".
- Oh?
And why should you be doing that?
Because we've had some
very odd enquires about you.
Does the name "Quive-Smith"
mean anything to you?
Quive-Smith? Quive-Smith. Nothing.
Anything to eat?
Only my lunch.
A few gull's eggs and a half bottle of
Moet-Chandon '28.
You are welcome to them.
Or there's the typist's biscuits...
elastic-sided Petit Beurre.
(BELL DINGS)
He's a Major
and he says he's by way of
being an old companion-in-arms of yours.
A Lancer? English is he?
Couldn't be more so.
The fact my name was Abrahams
got him severe congestion of the larynx.
Oh, he said he knew you
and that he is the bearer of,
as they say
"information to your advantage."
An inheritance. Some fellow soldier.
The Colonel, no doubt,
left me the regimental silver?
I don't think.
Bring in my champagne and gull's eggs
for Sir Robert, please, Mr Peale.
HUNTER: Quive-Smith?
Never heard of him.
Anything else funny going on?
Anything else, Mr Peale?
Not directly, sir.
Only we do have a queer
customer outside, feeding the ducks.
Been there all week, sir,
during office hours
and I hear there's another one
just turned up in Theobald street.
He's been seen having a chat
with the duck-feeding gentleman
during the last couple of minutes or so.
Since Sir Robert's taxi drew up.
They've broken cover.
My gaudy plumage.
It pays to advertise.
I'll get the refreshments, sir.
See what else anyone knows.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Where does Peale get his information?
From leaning out of the window all day?
No, no, the Union.
Union?
Private detectives' Union.
They spot outsiders in no time.
I'm sorry to say the divorce business
being what it is
we have to brief as many of them
as we do barristers.
They like to keep on
the right side of Mr Peale.
What've you been up to?
I took a pot at your chum, Adolf.
Adolf?
Adolf?
Adolf.
You must be loopy.
You know why, Saul.
No one else does, but you do.
Rebecca.
You shouldn't blame yourself, Robert.
I blame myself.
And I blame them.
She knew what she was doing.
So did I, and I should have stopped her.
You couldn't have.
Anyway...
(DOOR OPENS)
Here we are, Sir Robert.
Seems they're still there, sir.
If I may suggest, sir
I'll accompany you when you go out.
I doubt they'll try anything in the street.
Not if there are two of us.
Still pack your right
hook, do you, Mr Peale?
I never go anywhere without it, sir.
Robert, are you getting absent-minded
in your old age?
Trying to eat gull's eggs
with your gloves on.
I have my reasons.
My hands still aren't too pretty to look at.
Then I won't look at them.
Better still, allow me.
(PLATE CLATTERS)
(SAUL TAPS THE EGG
ON HIS DESK)
Now, what are we gonna do about you?
Well, don't suggest anything
legal because there isn't anything.
My uncle's made that very clear.
Neville and his chums would ship me
back to our friends as soon as look at me.
Sooner.
I want to settle my affairs
and I need all the cash you can muster.
I may be, as they say
"underground for some time".
No trouble there.
You, um... you keep cash
in the office, do you?
When your name is Abrahams,
my dear Robert
you may eat with the best people
and even sleep with one or two of them
when they're in the mood
but you don't trust them.
Not ever... not entirely.
It may be peace in your time
but I don't think it is likely
to remain peace in mine.
Oh, Saul, for God's sake,
you're as English as I am!
And you're half-Irish.
Here's a body belt with 2,000 quid in it
and a 100 in sovereigns.
Any fellow Hebrew of mine will give you
a decent rate for gold wherever you are.
Saul, you're an ass!
Now, what about the land?
The documents are ready.
Do you want the present tenants to inherit
in the event of your death
subject to the creation of a joint trust
for their heirs. Wasn't that it?
- Good man.
- Here we are.
Splendid, splendid...
Now, one more thing.
If a coroner should sit on my body
and conclude suicide
don't believe one word of it.
- I'll go down personally.
- You'll do no such thing!
A corpse isn't worth the fuss.
Just remember.
I shall do that.
I promise.
- Get yourself another one, won't you?
- On your account. Don't you worry.
(BELL DINGS)
Here's one of them, sir.
And here, unless I'm much
mistaken, comes the gallant Major.
At the gallop.
He has a good tailor,
I'll say that for him.
HUNTER: Failing a taxi cab,
one takes a tube, I believe it's called.
Would you escort me, Mr Peale?
PEALE:
My pleasure, Sir Robert.
(NEWSPAPER VENDOR SHOUTS)
NEWSPAPER VENDOR:
Read all about it!
Take a shilling one, sir.
- A shilling one, please.
- (COINS CLATTER)
- Good luck!
- And you, sir.
Now!
How do I get to, uh...
Wimbledon Park?
Well, sir, you go via Leicester Square,
and Charing Cross.
TICKET CLERK: How much time
have you got? It's a little complicated.
All the time in the world.
Ticket, sir.
I'm in a hurry, damn you!
...to the northern line.
That will take you to Charing Cross.
- Yes.
- Charing Cross, the district line.
That will take you all the way
to Wimbledon Park.
Over there, sir.
TRAIN GUARD:
Mind the doors!
Funny the way it always does that, what?
One must have patience.
(LIFT HISSES)
(FOOTSTEPS ECHO)
- (FEET SHUFFLE)
- (ELECTRICITY BUZZES)
(MAN GROANS)
(TRAIN WHISTLE SOUNDS)
Sir Robert! What a pleasure to see you!
You're quite wrong, Jessel!
You haven't seen me.
Sir Robert?
I'm not here, Jessel and you
haven't seen me since my last trip.
Of course not, Sir Robert.
Now, here's a list of things I need.
(HE SIGHS)
- Billhook?
- Mm-hm.
What about a firearm?
No, Jessel I don't think I'll play it
that way.
Quite right, Sir Robert.
I'm not a criminal, Jessel.
Off on another of your trips,
I presume, Sir Robert?
When you get the stuff, I'll be
at the entrance of Wimbledon station.
- (TRAIN WHISTLE SOUNDS)
- NEWSMAN: Star News and Standard!
NEWSMAN:
Horrible murder! Read all about it!
- Star News and...
- Standard.
There you are, guv.
Thank you.
Star News and Standard!
Horrible murder, read all about it!
HUNTER (VO):
The Metropolitan Police wish to interview
a tall, well-dressed gentleman
in his early forties.
The booking clerk described him
as having no fingernails on his right hand.
(STEAM TRAIN CHUGS)
I came as quick as I knew how, Sir Robert.
But the West End...
They've got police,
and I don't know what, everywhere.
I suppose it's those Bolshies again.
Thank you, Jessel.
- Will you be alright, Sir Robert?
- Oh, yes, and meanwhile...
Of course.
(TRAIN CHUGS)
Even I don't know who I am.
(TRAIN HISSES)
HUNTER: I never hunted
with the Cattistock. Why not?
Why not?
I was only in Dorset once before in my life.
Do let's stop. I'm sweltering!
Five minutes.
We don't wanna get left behind.
Pub's shut. Give us the water.
Oh, I'm red hot, really I am!
(SHE SIGHS)
(MAN SNIFFS)
Do I look funny?
Funny? You? No. Why?
SHE MOUTHS: That man.
- What a frankly superb conveyance!
- Sorry?
The bike. I've never seen
anything quite like it.
There isn't anything quite like it.
Gerald built it.
HUNTER:
Gerald?
- I'm Gerald.
- HUNTER: Oh, how do you do?
Yes, now, you'll never believe this,
but I've been...
hunting high and low for a thing like this.
Oh, Gerald was thinking
of manufacturing them.
Weren't you, Gerald?
As a business.
I have given the matter some consideration.
Yes, I don't doubt. Now...
how much would a thing like this cost?
What? Er... 15 quid.
- That much?
- About.
Fifteen quid?
You said you could make...
HE CHUCKLES
Well, frankly, it's academic.
- Sorry?
- Point is, I need the bike right away.
Oh, well, we live in Leicester.
Do you really? I have an uncle
who lives near Leicester.
Oh, how lovely! Would I know him?
- I don't think so.
- We'll have to go home on the train.
Well, I'm very sorry if I've spoiled
your holidays.
Oh, well...
Suppose we said...
twenty pounds... cash
to compensate you for the inconvenience?
Twenty pounds?
Or shall we say guineas?
What do you say?
- I shall be sorry to let her go.
- HUNTER: In other words...?
Done!
Thank you.
Here's five...
(BIKE BELL TINKLES)
(CROWS CAW)
HUNTER (VO): No one will ever find us.
No one. Ever!
This is ours. Forever.
It's ours, but not forever, Robert.
I must go back.
I must.
You know I must.
The world won't go away. Not even for us.
Damn the world!
They trust me...
They rely on me.
I must.
- Without me...
- Without you...?
Not yet, Rebecca.
Not yet.
Darling Bobs...
(CHINKING NOISE)
(HE WHISTLES)
(HE INHALES DEEPLY)
(HE CONTINUES WHISTLING)
"She walks in beauty, like the night"
"Of cloudless climes and starry skies"
"And all that's best of dark..."
"...and bright"
"Meet in her aspect and her eyes."
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER:
Hello, puss.
Ah, you like that, don't you?
Can't call you Puss, you bugger.
No... What... Dark?
Asmodeus?
Yeah. Asmodeus.
(HE SINGS TO HIMSELF)
(BIKE CLUNKS AND SQUEAKS)
Oh, Foulsham, Professor Foulsham.
There may be a parcel for me.
No, sorry.
No parcel of that name at all, sorry.
Is there a letter then?
Well, there you are! Foulsham.
Kettle's boiling, Mum.
Excuse me.
HUNTER READS:
"A sinister stranger without fingernails..."
"...is haunting Dorset this week".
- GIRL: But Mum...
POST MISTRESS:
I want my cup of tea!
You do as you're told!
- (WOMAN SLAPS GIRL)
- May I have my letter, please?
- You'll have to wait.
- Ma'am, kindly satisfy yourself.
- Now, you keep away from me!
This letter is indeed
addressed to me
and I regret to tell you...
- I shall scream.
I don't doubt it.
Your behaviour is unworthy
of a position of trust
and I feel in duty bound to report it.
So good day to you, ma'am!
(SIRENS RING)
VOICE OF SAUL (VO):
As your legal advisor, my opinion
pedestrian as it may be,
is that you should go to the police
tell them the truth
and be damned to your addled ideas
of duty and honour.
If England is embarrassed by your existence
so much the worse for England.
Noblesse does not always oblige.
No.
Only when you wish it didn't.
INSPECTOR:
Birley, March!
There he is! After him!
(STEAM TRAIN CHUGS)
MAN (VO):
Of course, Major Quive-Smith!
A man in your position,
I'm happy to tell you what I know.
The local constabulary
almost nabbed him in Dorset.
The sub-post mistress
had her suspicions aroused
but the locals reacted a shade slow
and well, he was away
before they got to him.
He won't be within 100 miles
if you want an expert opinion.
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
When it comes to an expert opinion
I think I'll rely on Sir Robert's.
(BRAKES SQUEAL)
Thank you, Muller.
(BIRDS TWEET)
(HE SIGHS)
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
The rule is simple and infallible.
Find his waterhole
and patience will surely bring
your quarry within your sights.
(TENSE MUSIC)
Sir Robert?
(GUNSHOT)
Sieg heil!
- Major, look out!
- LOUD MEOW
(GUNSHOT)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Come back! Come back, you idiot!
Some stupid animal, and you go
and make a fool of yourself!
I'm no country man, Major.
You're no man at all!
- He better be dead.
- He is Major, I saw...
QUIVE-SMITH: Well, the dead man appears
to have gone to ground, doesn't he.
Well, I'm not prepared to root around
in the dark for a wounded rat.
Discipline, Quive-Smith.
Discipline, discipline.
(HE SIGHS)
Thirty-eight.
(BULLET CLINKS)
- (HE SIGHS)
- Close, Robert. Close.
"An elephant separated from the herd
is known as a rogue male."
"He is isolated..."
"...and he is dangerous."
"The Almighty..."
"...looks after the rogue male."
We hope.
We hope.
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)
- Oh, Mr Drake?
- Eh?
I'm Quive-Smith.
Your wife and I spoke on the telephone.
Oh, yes, Major, indeed.
Not much of a day for sport, I'm afraid.
I'm a patient man, Mr Drake.
I'm willing to wait.
- Is there much about?
- Not a lot.
Not up here.
I haven't seen so much as a robin out there
all summer.
Oh?
- Persian cat up there.
- (HE LAUGHS)
You can't trap him,
you can't shoot him.
Oh, yes... Well, I'd like to see that room
if I may, your wife talked about.
(CAT MEOWS)
(CAT MEOWS)
Hello, Asmodeus!
You smelt the sardines, didn't you, eh?
Not up outside then, eh?
What's up outside?
You and me, what a pair, eh?
What a pair, you old villain.
"One shade the more, one ray the less"
"Had half impaired the nameless grace"
"Which waves in every raven tress"
"Or softly lightens o'er her face..."
Well, we'll just have to
sweat it out, my pretty.
We'll just have to sweat it out.
Mr Quive-Smith?
I must say your mum does cook
the most delicious apple crumble!
- Would you like some more?
- Oh...
Oh, yes... Just a little.
Thanks, that's fine.
Uh, no, thanks.
(DOOR CLOSES)
(CAT MEOWS)
Hello, Asmodeus!
Yes, it's not exactly a bed
of roses, is it Asmodeus?
Messy beast man, isn't he?
Well...
Have they gone or haven't they?
Have they gone or haven't they?
(CAT MEOWS)
Oh, they must have, mustn't they?
(TENSE MUSIC)
("BLUTROSE ROSEN" PLAYS DISTORTEDLY)
(SONG FADES OUT)
(HIGH-PITCHED SCREECHING)
(HE CRASHES TO THE GROUND)
FARMER: It's that beggerin' murderer after
my cheeses again, you see if it isn't...
Into t'barn and down t'dairy.
I knew 'e was a stealing of 'em.
I don't really think so,
you know, Mr Drake.
DRAKE: How'd that 'appen then?
Of itself, d'ye think?
(WOOD SPLINTERS)
Look at that. That's death-watch beetle
you've got in that.
I came across it once,
in the East Riding.
Tithe barn.
Chap fell right through
the roof and broke his neck, poor fellow.
I shouldn't fret yourself.
You're right, Major.
Mornin's time enough to worry.
QUIVE-SMITH:
Quite right, Mr Drake. Good night.
(LIGHT CLUNKS)
(DUCK QUACKS)
(DUCKS QUACK FRANTICALLY)
QUIVE-SMITH (VO):
A wise hunter
does not disturb
frightened game at night.
Thank you, Sir Robert.
(CROWS CAW)
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER (MUFFLED):
Asmodeus?
(CAT MEOWS)
HUNTER:
Asmodeus?
Asmodeus?
(HUNTER TUTS AND WHISTLES)
- (METAL CLINKS)
- (EARTH TUMBLES DOWN)
(TENSE MUSIC)
(EARTH TUMBLES DOWN)
(HE KICKS THE TRAP DOOR)
(KICKING CONTINUES)
Sir Robert?
Sir Robert?
Can you hear me?
I hear you.
- How are you?
- Surviving!
You had a lucky escape...
temporarily, however.
One doesn't abandon
a wounded beast, does one?
One finishes it off.
It wouldn't be cricket otherwise, would it?
(HE SNIGGERS)
What?
I didn't speak.
Shall I tell you something funny?
While my capacity for laughter
is somewhat limited at the moment
you can try.
QUIVE-SMITH:
The night you lost patience...
Last night, by George! Wasn't it?
- I didn't lose patience!
- The night you lost patience!
I'd already given Drake
notice that we were off.
I'd already decided
that you'd got clean away.
Oh, I knew that you were somewhere about.
But we'd been searching down
by the spring and down in the old quarry
and I concluded that we'd missed the bus.
Funny, isn't it?
Hilarious.
- Shall we get down to business?
- Business!
What business?
If you're going to kill me, kill me!
Oh, my dear fellow.
I don't want you to die.
You could always donate me
to Whipsnade Zoo, I suppose.
(HE CHUCKLES)
There will be no need for anything as
drastic as that, I don't think
Sir Robert, at this particular juncture, no.
If my friends take my advice,
and they might well...
they'll tell me
to let you go back into circulation
just as if nothing had happened.
On certain conditions.
HUNTER:
Look here!
You won't get any more out of me
than your Gestapo did!
So don't waste your time!
My Gestapo?
They're not mine.
I am as British as you are.
Now what exactly do you want?
Well, I don't want to deceive you
in any way, Sir Robert.
So I think I'd better get back to my friends
and clear with them exactly
what I propose we should do.
You won't mind hanging on
for a day or two, will you?
I can't get out.
But I don't suppose you'll be coming in.
I assume you're familiar with
the end game known as stale mate?
(HE SNIGGERS UNDER HIS BREATH)
Well, it's staler for you
than it is for me, Sir Robert
if we must raise the subject.
Look, let's not play bluff, shall we?
You have only one course,
and that is to resign gracefully.
Oh, and please don't try
burrowing your way out
by some ingenious new route.
My chap is going to be out here
whenever I'm not
and he has such a nervous disposition
he'd probably shoot the moon
if it came up unexpectedly.
We'll talk tomorrow.
Pleasant dreams.
(WATER SPLASHES)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sir Robert?
Sir Robert?
QUIVE-SMITH:
Are you there?
I'm still here!
Sound man.
Because I've got some good news for you.
We shall have you out of there
inside the hour.
QUIVE-SMITH: You'll be free
to go home, to your place.
You'll be in time
for the first of the pheasant.
I'm very glad it's worked out this way.
I was sure it would.
I have enormous respect for you,
personally, you know, Sir Robert.
You're a member of a party, Major,
which respects nothing
but power and brute force!
And you're a man to go into
the jungle with, Sir Robert!
And that's the highest tribute I can offer.
Our party needs men like you!
Now, what is it exactly
that you want me to do?
It's time you told me.
I have a piece of paper out here.
Here, bring it here, Muller.
What I'll do
is I'll shove it down your
blow hole
on the end of a stick.
Alright...
Got it?
First catch your mouse,
and then give him the cheese.
Absolutely right!
Absolutely right!
Oh, this is rubbish!
The British Government
knew nothing whatsoever about my trip
and you know that perfectly well!
Look I'm not going to argue the toss,
one way or the other
about what anyone actually knew
or didn't know.
Your uncle's in the Cabinet.
Who's really going to believe
that you weren't given the nod?
- Weren't you?
- No.
Look...
I am as British as you are, Sir Robert.
I wish this country great.
Just as you do.
That document will never see
the light of day
unless Neville, and the Jews
force us into war
and then only to prove to public opinion
to the people of Britain
that it's a war that's been
forced on the Fuhrer
by pansy boys and weeping willies.
I don't sign lies!
QUIVE-SMITH: Truth! What is
the truth when it comes down to it?
What is true is the truth!
QUIVE-SMITH: And what is the truth
about this, so-called sporting stalk?
I wanted to see if it could be done.
You wanted to kill, I presume,
because you thought it would help.
- Help?
- Your country.
- If you like...
- In other words...
even if the Government,
the politicos, knew nothing about you
you were, as it were, acting for Britain.
- I don't see what all this matters!
- I'm sure you do, Sir Robert.
You mentioned signing lies.
It happens to be the truth
that I'm asking you to sign.
- I don't agree!
But your actions agree, Sir Robert,
which is more to the point.
Let us say that your motives were patriotic.
That makes them the same as mine.
You and I, Sir Robert,
belong on the same side.
We are two of a kind!
Don't assume that because we both
go to a good tailor
we're on the same side.
We are not!
Look, you're either going to do as I say
or say your prayers.
It's as simple as that.
- Sign and be done with it, or else...
- Suddenly, you're in a great hurry.
Well, I can't stand around here
talking all day, I shall get cramp.
Breathe some more of that lovely fresh air
you've got in there, my dear fellow
and tell me how it feels in the morning.
(CAT MEOWS)
(CAT MEOWS)
(GUNSHOTS)
QUIVE-SMITH:
Some company for you.
(MELANCHOLY MUSIC)
"A mind at peace with all below"
"A heart whose love is innocent!"
I hope by tomorrow
you'll be in the mood to be sensible.
By then, the atmosphere in there
ought to be conducive to reason.
REBECCA (VO):
I must go back.
They trust me.
They rely on me, I must.
REBECCA (VO):
Without me...
HUNTER:
Without you...?
Not yet, Rebecca.
HE IMITATES A GUN:
Pchook!
He'll be sorry, Asmodeus, old friend.
He'll be sorry.
(TINS CLATTER NOISILY)
(SCRAPING SOUND)
It's a splendid morning, Mr Drake.
Rain later I shouldn't wonder.
Yes, well, I shall profit from it
while I can.
(HE WHISTLES)
You can cut along now and get some grub.
QUIVE-SMITH:
And cheer up!
I don't suppose
you'll be needed much longer.
Morning.
- Sir Robert!
- HUNTER: Yes.
I said "good morning".
- Did you?
- Manners, my dear fellow, manners!
QUIVE-SMITH:
One must preserve the proprieties, you know.
How are you this morning?
Reasonable.
The air out here is splendid this morning.
How is it in there?
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sir Robert?
I'm still here.
You know, honestly, Sir Robert,
I never imagined a man like you
could be so
thoroughly unreasonable.
Didn't know that reason was
something you cared much about.
Oh, this is a nonsense, you know,
submitting yourself to this.
It's pure perversity, it really is.
You know, Major...
I've been thinking.
QUIVE-SMITH:
Purpose of the exercise, my dear fellow.
Even if I... I sign
this famous document of yours
whatever use will it be?
No one's going to see it.
There isn't going to be a war.
Your Fuhrer has promised
and we... we all know that,
if a man like that gives his promise...
QUIVE-SMITH:
I told you, it is a pure formality.
Unless someone on your side
gets up to some nonsense
and tries to foment a war against
this country's natural allies...
You see...
Sir Robert?
HUNTER:
What about...?
What about...?
What?
QUIVE-SMITH:
What about what?
This chappie of yours...
- QUIVE SMITH: Chappie?
- HUNTER: Your chappie!
How much does he know?
How do I know
I'm not going to be blackmailed?
QUIVE-SMITH:
He's a Swiss.
Forget him!
The Swiss are people of quite astonishing
dullness and rapacity, my dear fellow.
A combination nurtured by
generations of democratic government
and milk chocolate.
I... I'm rather fond of both.
Humbug, Sir Robert.
The British Lion is losing his teeth
on account of the one
and his will to fight
because of his addiction to the other.
Why prolong this ludicrous debate?
Sign!
Sign and then...
You're a natural leader, Sir Robert.
I know it, you know it.
QUIVE-SMITH: Now, what place do you have
amongst the rats and the rabbits?
My place amongst the rats and the rabbits
is, I assure you, none of my choosing.
So you want the world to belong to
the Jews and the niggers, do you?
Cos that's what democracy is.
Mr Roosevelt and his yankeedoodles
or the Great Russian bear
sprawled across Europe
with England between its paws!
HUNTER:
I don't know, I don't know... I...
I can't breathe. I can't think!
QUIVE-SMITH:
Sign the paper, man!
You can think later.
(HE CHUCKLES)
I've got a bottle of bubbly in the car.
I've bust the pen!
QUIVE-SMITH LAUGHS
Bust the pen? You are an ass!
A pen is the least of our problems!
- (QUIVE-SMITH LAUGHS)
- (WEAPON FIRES)
(TENSE MUSIC)
Here I am, Major...
- So you are.
- Wha...?
MULLER:
Don't kill me, sir!
- Name?
- Muller, sir.
Muller, of course...
Well, you certainly took to the work,
didn't you, Muller?
Burying a fellow human being alive
came quite naturally to you, didn't it?
I thought you were one
of the Major's men, sir.
He said you were.
Oh, sir, my wife...
Want to see her again?
My God, sir, I swear...
Yeah, well then swear quietly,
or better still, save your breath.
You've got work to do.
HUNTER:
Go on, man, pull him right in!
My God, sir!
Very cosy!
(HE SIGHS DEEPLY)
HUNTER:
A bit airless is it, in there?
Yes, sorry about that.
MULLER:
I won't say anything, sir. Ever.
To anyone. You can trust me.
Yes, I can, can't I.
Depressing, really,
now here's what we do.
After dark we'll toddle down to the farm
because we have to collect
our gear, don't we?
- But won't they...
- It looks like rain.
I shall wait in the car, like a gentleman,
and you will fetch out the bags.
HUNTER: The Major and I, as he so often
used to remark, are two of a kind
at least, to the casual eye.
HUNTER: Sorry to dash off, but all
good things must come to an end.
- Goodbye, Major!
- HUNTER: Goodbye dear
and remember,
don't bring out your queen too soon.
GIRL:
I'll remember, Major.
Premature exposure can sometimes be fatal.
DRAKE:
Bye then, Major.
I'd like to give you a kiss, Major!
HUNTER: You mustn't catch
a cold, my dear. Now, just stay in the dry.
Bye, bye, now. Bye bye.
Don't get too wet!
(AIR RAID SIRENS WAIL)
VOICE OF NEVILLE CHAMBERLAIN:
I have to tell you now
that no such undertaking has been received
and that consequently
this country is at war with Germany.
Anyway, Neville asked me
would I care to renounce my duties.
(HE CHUCKLES)
And frankly, since I've never quite known
what these were
I readily agreed. So, yeah.
Oh, there you are, Bobbety!
I wondered when you'd surface.
I expected you a bit sooner, to be honest.
Oh, yes, but I couldn't find a taxi cab.
Ah, then of course, that explains it.
Because I had a word with Winston
and he says that if you care
to pop round by the Admiralty
he has an idea that might be
rather up your street.
Fine. I'll toddle round.
Yes, do that, do that...
Oh, and Bobbety.
You know that spot of bother
you talked to me about, hm?
Well, now it seems that their nibs
have passed the word, informally of course
that the whole thing can now be...
unofficially regarded as officially...
Dead and buried?
Hm...
Yes, if you like, if you like.
Fine, well, I'll go and see Winston.
Yes, do that and get him to give you
a good job right away
before he gets kicked out.
Because, you know, I don't think
he's going to last very long...
OK. Thanks, Uncle.
Oh, and Bobbety,
I'll be at the Athenaeum later
if you feel like a little plain supper
and some middle class company, hm?
Thank you, Uncle.
(HE LAUGHS)
You know, that's my nephew, Bobbety.
Oh, he's a splendid fellow.
But so silly.
Do you know what he did a while back, hm?
Oh, you're just not going to believe this,
but he actually tried to pot Hitler!
(HE CHUCKLES)
And missed. Very odd.
He's usually quite a decent shot.
GERMAN SOLDIER (VO):
Abteilung...
halt!
Gewehr auf!
Feuer!
(GUNSHOT RINGS OUT)
HUNTER (VO):
My plans are far advanced.
I recognise that I may not get away alive
but this time I shall not hesitate.
And that is really all that matters to me...
without you.