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Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 1, Episode 1 - The Adventure of the Clapham Cook - full transcript

Poirot probes the disappearance of a wealthy woman's cook, and soon uncovers an elaborate plot to hide an ever darker crime.

"Husband put head in gas oven, home life happy?"
"Belgravia Overseas Bank clerk absconds with fortune."
How much is this fortune?
Ninety thousand pounds.
That's a King's ransom, Poirot!.
When it is used to ransom a King, it becomes interesting to Poirot.
"Missed typist, of 21, where it Edna Field?"
There's good stuff here, Poirot .
Mysterious suicide, absconding bank clerk, missing typist...
Yes, but I am not greatly attracted to any of them, mon ami.
I have many affairs of importance of my own to attend to.
Such as?
My wardrobe, Hastings.
If I mistake not, there is on my new grey suit a spot of grease.
You have noticed it perhaps, non?
Well, it is only the one spot, you understand, but it is sufficient to trouble me.
Then, there is my winter overcoat. I must lay him aside in the powder of Keatings.
And I think, ... yes.
I think the moment is right for the trimming of the moustache, also the pomading...
There's a lady to see you, Mr. Poirot.
A lady?
A client, her name is Mrs. Todd.
Unless the affair is one of national importance, I touch it not.
I couldn't say, sir. Shall I ask her?
No, no, no, Miss Lemon. Show Mrs.Todd in.
We shall judge for ourselves, eh Hastings?
Oh yes yes.
Mrs. Todd. Doesn't sound as if she's nationally important.
Mind you, I knew a Mrs. Jones once who was Master of Hounds with the Mid Rutland.
No, that's all. Funny woman.
Mrs. Todd, sir.
Thank you.
Oh, are you Mr. Poirot?
I am Hercule Poirot, yes Madame.
Oh, you're not a bit how I thought you'd be.
Did you pay for that bit in the paper saying what a clever detective you were,
or did they put it in themselves?
Oh I'm sorry, I'm sure,
but you know what newspapers are like nowadays, nothing but puff.
But no offence taken, I hope.
I tell you what I want you to do for me. I want you to find my cook.
I fear you are making a mistake, Madame.
Hercule Poirot is a private detective.
I know that. Haven't I just told you I want you to find my cook for me?
Walked out of the house on Wednesday without so much as a bye-your-leave and never came back.
I am sorry Madame, but I do not touch that particular kind of business.
I wish you, good day!
So that's it, is it?
Too proud, eh?
Only deal with government secrets and Countesses' jewels?
Well, let me tell you, Mr. High-Mighty Poirot.
A good cook's a good cook,
and when you lose one, it's as much to you as pearls are to some fine Lady.
Madame, you are in the right and I am in the wrong.
Your remarks are just and intelligent.
This case will be a novelty, Hastings.
Never before have we hunted a missing domestic.
Truly here is a problem of "national importance".
Wonderful! Where do you reside, Mrs. Todd?
88 Prince Albert Road, Clapham.
You said this jewel of a cook went out on Wednesday and did not return?
Wednesday, yes, it was her day off.
The day before yesterday.
Has it occurred to you Madame, that she might have met with some accident.
Have you inquired at the hospitals?
That's exactly what I thought yesterday,
but, this morning, if you please, she sent for her box.
What box?
Her box.
Her trunk. Luggage.
Oh, I see.
Will you describe her to me, Madame?
Oh, most respectable. Ten years in her last place.
Middle age, grey hair, thin.
And her name?
Dunn. Eliza Dunn.
This is Clapham, there's the common.
You had no disagreement with her on Wednesday, Madame?
No, that's what makes it all so queer.
How many servants do you keep?
Two. Miss Dunn and the house parlor maid, Annie.
Here we are. There's 88.
All right, driver.
Hastings, my friend, promise me one thing.
What's that, Poirot?
Never, but never must Chief-Inspector Japp hear that I investigated such a case.
Mum's the word, old boy.
Now, Annie, this gentleman is a detective, he wants to ask you a few questions.
Here we are, sir.
Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie.
Sit yourself.
Thank you, sir.
All that you shall tell us will be of the greatest importance, Annie.
You alone can shed any light on the case.
Without you, I can do nothing.
Sir, I'm sure I'll tell you anything I can, sir.
That is good.
First of all...
What is your own idea?
You are a girl of remarkable intelligence, that can be seen at once.
But this is a queer thing, eh?
What is your own explanation of Eliza's disappearance?
White slavers, sir.
I said so all along, sir, only no one will listen.
Cook was always warning me against them.
"Don't you go snuffing yourself and eating no sweets,
no matter how gentlemanly the fellow."
Ah, this is something we have not thought of, Hastings.
No, right. Good Heavens!
But would she have sent for her trunk?
Beg pardon, sir?
Miss Dunn sent for her trunk, I believe.
Now, if she had truly been taken by these white slavers,
would she have sent for her luggage?
Well, I don't know, sir. She'd want her things, wouldn't she?
Even in foreign parts, she'd want her things.
Who came for her trunk, Annie?
The carriers, sir. The men from Carter Paterson.
Did you pack it for her?
No sir, it was already packed and corded.
That is interesting.
That shows that when she left the house on Wednesday,
already she determined not to return.
You see that, do you not?
Ah, I'd never thought of that.
Tell me now, Annie,
what was the very last thing Eliza said to you before she went out?
She said, "If there's any stewed peaches left over from the dining room,
"we'll have them for supper, and a bit of bacon and fried potatoes."
Mad for stewed peaches, she was.
I shouldn't wonder if that was the way they got her.
Got her?
The white slavers.
Ah!! The stewed peaches, quite.
Thank you very much, Annie, you have been most helpful.
Was she saying things about me?
Not at all. Only things of the pleasantest nature.
But for a woman of your intelligence, Madame,
it would be tiresome to bear with patience the round-about methods we
plodding detectives have to use.
Oh, oh I see.
Well, I wouldn't say there was all that much difference between us, Mr. Poirot.
I always was very good in general knowledge at school.
There!! And your husband, too, I'm sure is the intellectual, yes?
Yes, he does very well with figures.
A successful businessman?
With the Prudential, yes, in the city.
What about the other inmates of the house, Madame?
Oh you mean Mr. Simpson, our paying guest?
What is his profession, Madame?
Oh, he's in business too, with the Belgravia and Overseas Bank.
Young man, is he?
Twenty eight, I believe. A nice young fellow.
Well, they'll both be in about six, if you want to see them.
An excellent suggestion, Madame.
Well, my colleague and I will take a turn on your famous common for...
... one hour.
It's a curious coincidence that the paying guest Simpson
works in the same bank as the absconding clerk.
They must have known each other.
Or possibly Davis visited Simpson, fell in love with the cook
and he persuaded her to accompany him on his flight.
Come, Hastings. Let us go back to the "Prudential" Monsieur Todd.
I've heard of you, Mr. Poirot, haven't I?
It's possible, Monsieur Todd.
Oh yes.
I follow crime, you know.
Well, perhaps you have some theories about the disappearance of your cook.
Theories? No. It's hardly a crime, is it?
Good cook, her, and economical. I'm very hot on economy.
Now we would like to have a few words with your Mr. Simpson,
if that's possible.
Another one after that.
Thank you.
Just off the next landing.
Mr. Simpson?
Hold on.
Mr. Simpson?
My name is Poirot.
Hercule Poirot.
Oh! Yes.
May we have a moment of your so valuable time?
Certainly. Come in.
Thank you.
Mr. Simpson, Mrs. Todd has engaged me to find Eliza Dunn,
the cook.
Oh! Where is she?
But that is what we do not know, monsieur.
You know her, of course.
Well er....
I must've met her, I suppose.
Well it would seems that Miss Dunn has not been seen since Wednesday.
Did you see her on that day?
I don't think so.
I don't know.
You were at work as usual, on Wednesday?
Well thank you, Mr. Simpson.
It was most kind of you to spare us the time.
Tell me, Mr. Simpson,
what does a young fellow find to do around here, on the evening, hmm?
Oh, the usual things, you know.
Musical evenings, amateur theatricals, that kind of things?
Yes, I suppose so.
You do not interest yourself, hmm?
Afraid not.
Thank you.
I think the husband got something to do with it.
To do with the missing cook?
There's something about him I don't trust.
Merely because a man does not offer you a drink, Hastings,
does not mean that he is necessarily guilty of other crimes.
But, there doesn't seem to be any crime at all, as far as I can see.
No, it is a curious case,
full of contradictory features.
I am interested.
Oh yes, I am distinctly interested.
What?! How does she dare?
What is it?
As a favour, as a great favour...
...I agreed to investigate this two-penny, half-penny affair!
What is it, old chap?
Read it, read it!
"Mr. Todd regrets that, after all, his wife will not avail herself of Mr. Poirot's services."
"After talking the matter over with me, she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a purely domestic affair."
"Mr. Todd encloses a guinea for consultation."
Is this to be believed?
Do they think they can get rid of Hercule Poirot like that huh?
No, no, no, no, no, no!
Thirty six times, no!
Did they send to me one guinea, huh? No!
I will spend my own guineas!
Thirty six hundred of them, if need be!
But I will get to the bottom of this matter.
"If Eliza Dunn..."
"... will communicate with this address ..."
"... she will hear something to her profit ..."
Yes? Good!
You have that, Miss Lemon?
Yes, Mr. Poirot.
Put it in all the papers you can think of.
She won't read The Times, I shouldn't think.
No, my dear Miss Lemon, perhaps she will not,
but perhaps her new employers will.
Now run along, Miss Lemon. Vite, vite.
And you, Hastings, do not you run away with such celerity,
I have work for you too.
Oh, as a matter of fact, I was thinking of popping to Sandown this afternoon.
No, no, no, you do not "pop".
Well, there's a horse running a pal of mine owns a leg of.
When he owns four legs, I pop with you.
But now is time for work, yes?
I want you to telephone all the domestic agencies you can find
and see if they have found Miss Eliza Dunn a new post.
As for me, I pop to the city of London.
And Mr. Simpson was at work as usual on Wednesday?
Oh yes, Mr. Simpson is an excellent timekeeper.
To tell the truth, he was absent on Thursday with a cold.
You have been most helpful, Mr. Cameron. Thank you.
Glad to be of assistance.
It is an unfortunate occurrence, this business of the Davis' absconding.
Oh, you heard about that, did you?
Well, one can scarcely miss it.
The newspapers love scandals about that.
That is human nature, Mr. Cameron.
But it is comforting for us, mere mortals,
to know that the banks too have their difficulties.
Again, I thank you, monsieur.
Chief-Inspector Japp. I wonder if I might ask you a few questions?
You and Davis are friends, I believe, Mr Simpson?
That's right.
I can't believe this fib. There must be some mistake.
If I told you, sir, the number of times I've heard that said.
If you had to hazard a conjecture, Mr. Simpson, as to where Davis might go if he wanted to hide,
where would you say?
I, I don't know. He was fond of Broadstairs.
Yes, honestly somewhere a little more exotic than that, sir.
Foreign parts, even.
Oh, I don't think he's ever been abroad.
You were at work as usual on Wednesday, were you, Mr. Simpson?
It's Thursday you want to know about, surely,
and I was away on Thursday.
No no, Mr. Simpson.
Although the Bonds were found to be missing on Thursday,
we believe that they must have been removed from the Bank on Wednesday.
I was here all day Wednesday.
What's up?
That man...
What about him?
He was at my diggins yesterday.
Was he, by George?
Ah! My dear Chief-Inspector Japp.
After the reward, eh Poirot?
No, no, no, no. No, I am engaged on quite a different case.
And what would this different case be, then?
Ah, well now there is a thing as client confidentiality, Chief-Inspector.
Let me just say that this case I'm engaged on is of "national importance".
Well, I'm glad to hear it, Poirot.
Someone was trying to tell me you've gone into missing domestics' business.
No, no, I said. Not Poirot, I said.
Hard times or not, he wouldn't fall that far.
No word from Eliza Dunn, Miss Lemon?
No, Mr. Poirot.
Another letter from the Duchess of Braxton.
No, no, no.
She sounds desperate.
Good heavens.
Mr. Poirot! Mr. Poirot!
Yes, Miss Lemon, yes?
There's a letter, sir. A letter from Eliza Dunn.
There! Did I not tell you, Hastings?
And you want to waste Poirot's time with the Duchesses.
- Well, I only thought... - You must learn my friend, patience.
Read it to us, Miss Lemon.
"Dear Sir, or Madam..."
"Ref your ad in the paper, I already got my legacy"
"if there's some mistake. Yours truly, Eliza Dunn, Miss."
"P.S. Thanks, all the same, for your trouble ."
What does she mean, legacy?
We must talk to this woman, at...
Fell Cottage, Allerdale, Kiswick.
That's Keswick, Mr. Poirot, in the Lake District.
Ah, are there trains to this place?
Oh, yes.
Bon. Come, Hastings. We have a train to catch.
Look at it, Hastings.
Not a building in sight.
Not a restaurant, not a theater,
not an art gallery.
A waste land.
I thought you liked the country.
But this is not the country, my friend!
The country is full of trees, and flowers, and public houses.
This is a desert.
I don't know why we've come all this way, anyway, you've found the cook.
The cook is but the beginning of the story, Hastings.
We're on to bigger things.
Look at that, Poirot, look at that view.
Yes, well views are very nice, Hastings,
but they should be painted for us...
so that we may study them in the warmth and comfort of our own homes.
That is why we pay the artist, for exposing himself to these conditions on our behalf.
What do you mean, conditions? It's a wonderful day.
Just fill your lungs with that air.
No, my poor friend.
This sort of air is intended for birds and little furry things.
The lungs of Hercule Poirot demand something more substantial.
The good air of the town.
Fell Cottage, I perceive.
We have got the right Eliza Dunn, have we?
I mean, what's she doing all the way up here?
That is what we are here to find out.
Wonderful position.
If you are rock, its wonderful.
Miss Eliza Dunn?
Formerly in the employ of Mrs. Austin Todd, at 88 Prince Albert Road, Clapham?
That's right.
I am Hercule Poirot, Miss Dunn.
You were kind enough to answer to my newspaper advertisement.
Oh, yes!
Well, like I said in my letter, sir, I've already got my legacy.
Miss Dunn, may we be permitted to come into the house for a moment?
I'm sure your employer will not object.
No, she won't mind. Come in.
Thank you.
Come in.
The reason I laughed, sir, I'm sorry, is, I don't have no employer, see.
This is my house.
Oh, Miss Dunn, forgive me.
That's all right, sir, you wasn't to know.
This is part of my legacy, see.
Oh, sit down, do.
Thank you.
Now, Miss Dunn,
you have mentioned your legacy, but
Captain Hastings and I, we know nothing of this.
What was the ad, then?
Your late mistress, Mrs. Todd, was much concerned about you.
She feared some accident might have befallen you.
But didn't she get my letter?
No, she got no letter.
She got no word of any kind.
Oh dear, sir.
I gave the letter to Mr. Crotchet.
I said most particularly he was to give it to Mrs. Todd.
Oh, dear.
Perhaps you will recount to Captain Hastings and me, the whole story.
Wednesday is my day out.
And it was last Wednesday that it all started last.
I'd been over to see my friend in Oxton and I was on my way home,
when a gentleman stopped me.
He said he'd been asking for me at number 88.
And he told me some story about an old friend of my grandmother's in Australia,
leaving me a house and some money in her will.
Well I didn't believe him, at first.
And then he showed me this letter.
Who was these lawyers, Hurst and Crotchet?
127, Wentworth Way, Melbourne?
Well, one of them is right here, Miss Dunn.
Benjamin Crotchet.
"Attorney in Law."
I hope that allays your very understandable fears.
Oh..., yes, indeed, sir. I didn't mean to doubt you.
Now, Miss Dunn, to business.
I have to tell you that the house is in Keswick.
Ah, that's just nearby Acton, isn't it, sir?
No, Miss Dunn, it's in the north of England, near Carlisle.
Oh, my good God.
But before we confront that particular difficulty,
there is one other stipulation that we should get out of the way.
Whatever is that, sir?
Well, it's of no importance since it doesn't apply in this case, thank you.
It's just a stipulation that you should not be in domestic service.
Whatever is the matter, Miss Dunn?
I am a cook, sir.
Didn't they tell you at the house?
My dear Miss Dunn, I had no idea.
This is very unfortunate.
Will I have to lose the money, sir?
Er, and the house, sir?
That would have been nice, even it is a bit out of the way.
I believe I have it.
We lawyers, always know a thing or two.
The way out here is for you to have left your employment before we met.
But we have met, sir and I mean no haven't.
Haven't you?
Haven't you, Miss Dunn?
Oh, I see. Yes.
You left your employment this morning, did you not? Before we met.
Yes, I remember now.
I did, as a matter of fact.
Now it is imperative that you take possession of your new house by noon, tomorrow.
In order to do that, you must catch the night train from King's Cross.
Come along, Miss Dunn. I can adventure 10 pounds or so for the fare
and you can write a note to your employer at the station, which I shall personally deliver for you.
And was everything as Mr. Crotchet had said?
Oh yes, and more, sir.
Now, what about your luggage?
All the things you had left at 88, Prince Albert Road?
Mr. Crotchet sent them on, like he said he would, but
it was all done up in brown paper like.
I dunno, I suppose Mrs. Todd was angry with me, and
grudge me my bit of luck and wouldn't let 'im have my box.
- But Annie said the trunk was... - Later, my friend. Later.
But there you said she never got my letter.
Well, I can't say as I blame her.
I see.
Well thank you, Mademoiselle.
There has been, as you say, a little muddle about your trunk,
which I will straighten out with Mrs. Todd, if you will permit.
Oh, thank you very much, sir.
Come, Hastings.
We must return to London with all possible speed.
Is there nowhere you can contact the Chief-Inspector Japp?
Then telephone him at his home.
Yes, of the greatest urgency.
Tell him he should not to be looking for Davis,
he should be looking for Simpson.
No, not Davis, but Simpson!
Thank you.
Why should Japp want Simpson, all of a sudden?
What's Simpson suppose to have done?
Hastings, my friend, the little grey cells are not working today, hey?
They take a little vacances, huh?
It's to do with this Eliza, isn't it?
We have moved beyond the petty sphere of cooks and club domestics.
There is something to do with this Australian fellow?
There is no Australian fellow.
Yes, there is. She told us about him.
Can you remember when we interviewed Simpson?
Interviewed Simpson? No.
In his little room, at the house in Clapham.
Oh, right. The lodger, yes.
Do remember I had asked him if he took an interest in amateur theatricals?
Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.
Why do you think I asked him that?
Well, making conversation, I suppose?
I asked him that because he had recently been wearing a false beard.
He had a tiny trace of gum, Arabic, in his er..
What do you call it here?
Sideburn, yes.
Do you see?
Oh, right. Yes.
The Australian was Simpson in a false beard!
Who are you?
I am Hercule Poirot. Who are you?
Sarge, there's some French gent at the door.
No, no, no, I am not some French gent, I am some Belgian gent.
Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Poirot.
It is. Is the lady of the house in?
The Chief-Inspector's here.
Mr. Poirot!
Ah! Mrs Todd..
I don't know how you have the impertinence to show your face here again.
You were paid off, Mr. Poirot, you were paid off handsomely.
And then look at this. We've got policemen crawling all over the house!
You're not too popular in Clapham this morning, Poirot.
A bit of a wild goose chase, this.
As far as we can ascertain,
this Mr. Simpson of yours is a perfectly respectable young bank employee
who happens to have gone home to his family.
We have the Shopshire Constable checking that at the moment.
I only wanted to ask...
Well, perhaps you'd be interested to know...
No I wouldn't! Good day, Mr. Poirot!
Annie, I need to ask you a question.
Can you help me?
I'll try, sir.
Last Friday, the Carter Paterson came to collect Eliza's trunk, yes?.
Her box? Yes, sir.
You were here when he came?
Yes sir. I had to show them up to Eliza's room for them to take it up.
It was ever so heavy, sir. It took three of them to get it down the stairs.
You all right, sir?
Of course.
Tell me Annie, you said her box was already packed.
Oh, yes sir. Packed, locked and corded.
Quite a thick rope 'round it, and done up ever so tight.
Did it have a label on it?
Yes, it did, sir.
With an address?
Just her name.
"Miss Eliza Dunn", it said.
"Twickenham Station, to be called for."
Very well, Annie. Thank you.
Au revoir.
Au revoir, sir.
Then why would Crotchet want to perpetrate such an elaborate hoax?
Ah! That is a very good question, Hastings.
But Eliza Dunn has got her house.
I shall be surprised if she finds she has more than a 6 months lease.
So what did Crotchet want?
Well, Simpson then, pretending to be Crotchet.
He wanted something that Eliza Dunn had.
Money, the Australian legacy?
He wanted a battered, old tin trunk.
A trunk, with nothing in it?
But he could buy a trunk.
No, but he did not want a new trunk, mon ami.
He wanted a trunk of pedigree, a trunk of assured respectability.
Now look here Poirot, what would Simpson want an old trunk for?
To put the body in, of course.
Sent on to Glasgow, gov, to await collection there.
But how do you know this? You have not consulted your records.
I don't need to consult my records, gov, do I?
What do you mean, body? What body?
Is he with you?
Whose body? I mean to say, there's going to be bodies all over the place?
Doucement, Hastings, all will be revealed to you.
Can we get on with the business at 'and?
By all means.
I saw through it myself, didn't I?
Yesterday morning. Some cove, with a beard.
You spoke to this man?
O' course I spoke to him.
Did he give a name?
Nah, he just said this Eliza Dunn was his aunt
and she wanted the trunk sent on to Glasgow.
And it's gone, you have sent it?
Nah, every Friday the Southern Railway pays me huge amounts of money
so that I won't do that sort of thing.
I think he's being sarcastic, Poirot.
No, no, Hastings.
He is a good man.
He is doing a job of great responsibility.
Thank you, monsieur.
I'll tell you one thing, though.
And... what is that, monsieur?
You looking for this bloke, or somethin'?
Well of course we're looking for him.
I'm talking to the engineer, not the oil brake.
Now look here...
What is this one thing you will tell us, monsieur?
All right, I'll tell ya.
I'll tell ya where he is. There!
Go on.
Well, at least rough figures.
Ah, a bit less sure, now, hey?
I bet he is, I bet he's where I'll say.
And where do you say?
Bolivia, there!
That's in South America.
And what is it that makes you think that he is in Bolivia?
Well, going there, least on his way, like.
He has to pay for his trunk to be sent on to Glasgow, see?
I see.
He takes out a wad of notes, to choke a cow horse, he could.
There's a few English notes there, which he paid what he owes me with,
but I couldn't help but notice most of the other notes were Bolivian.
Hastings, this gentleman is a genius.
How do you know they were Bolivian?
Well, one tiny little thin' was,
they had Bolivia written all over them, didn't they?
Here we are, this week sails.
Nothing for Bolivia today.
Bolivia is a landlocked country, Hastings.
Ah, that explains it, then.
One sails to Buenos Aires and goes by train from there.
What lovely names they all have. Queen of Heaven sailing for Caracas.
Thank you, Miss Lemon. Can we stick to Buenos Aires, please?
Ah, here we are!
The S.S. Nevonia, from Southampton, at 1 a.m.
Well let's go, then!
Are we looking for Simpson, or the trunk?
Simpson, of course. The trunk is in Glasgow.
But first...
Scotland Yard.
And of course you see some sinister point in all these Arthur Simpson's activities.
Well yes, of course, Chief-Inspector.
Six months rent on a house, a 150 pounds to Miss Dunn.
It is not much to assure the success of his plan.
And this famous plan is?
I mean, we've heard a lot about it, Mr. Poirot...
and I'm sure it's been very entertaining, but...
We are wasting time, Chief-Inspector.
Go on, then.
His plan, of course, is to steal 90,000 pounds worth of negotiable securities
from the Belgravia and Overseas Bank.
No! That's Davis.
Here it is, Sergeant.
Chief-Inspector Japp speaking.
Ah yes, Sergeant.
Good, good!
It's Glasgow. They found the trunk.
What you mean, and?
Have they opened it?
Sergeant Hendry, have you opened the trunk?
Ah yes, I see.
Apparently they need a warrant on them.
Mon dieu. There is a body in that trunk.
A body?
Look, Sergeant, there seems to be a possibility there's a body in that trunk.
Yes, a dead body.
You will?
Right. Thank you.
He thinks that may expedite matters. He's gonna ring me back.
Now then, what body? Whose body?
Davis, of course.
This is nonsense, Poirot.
Davis stole those securities from the bank, Davis is the one that disappeared the day...
Oh, God!
You think what Simpson wanted you to think.
Listen, Chief-Inspector.
On Wednesday, Simpson, disguised, decoys away the cook.
Now, he has already removed the securities from the bank,
but knows this will not be discovered until Thursday afternoon.
Now, he does not go to the bank on Thursday,
Instead he lies and wait for Davis when he comes out to lunch
and asks him to come to Clapham with him.
Now, it is the maids day out.
Mrs. Todd is at the shops.
There is no one in the house.
Simpson kills Davis.
The one difficulty for a murderer
is the disposal of the body.
And that is why Simpson wanted the trunk of Miss Eliza Dunn.
And now, if I am not much mistaken, my friends,
it is here we will apprehend our murderer.
Have I got something wrong, Chief-Inspector?
No no, Poirot, can't be right everytime.
Mon dieu, I am wrong.
I am wrong!
Officer! Where does the Queen of Heaven sail from, tonight?
Why, from pier 5 sir, over there.
Poirot, where're we going?
The Queen of the Heaven sails for Caracas tonight.
I remember it from The Time.
Yes, but Caracas isn't in Bolivia, is it?
What the porter saw on the bank note was not Bolivia.
What was it then?
It was bolívar!
And the bolívar is the unit of currency in Venezuela.
Our friend is on his way to Venezuela.
Stop that man!
No, no, no! Miss Lemon, to the left.
At least one centimetre to the left.
That's better.
Is there nothing to which Hercule Poirot cannot turn his finger.
"Pay to Hercule Poirot, the sum of one guinea only."
"Ernest Todd."
It is to me Hastings, a little reminder, never to despise the trivial, huh?
Or the undignified.
A disappearing domestic at one hand,
a cold-blooded murder at the other.