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Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 10, Episode 2 - Cards on the Table - full transcript

The enigmatic, sinister Mr. Shaitana, one of London's richest men, invites 8 guests, 4 of them possible murderers and 4 'detectives' to his opulent apartment.


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[ Indistinct conversations ]

We really must try and broaden
your horizons a little.

Some of these pieces
are terribly revealing.

For instance,
what do you make of that?

I-I do not know what to make
of it, Mme. Oliver.

Not symmetrical enough for you?

Oh, look.
It's Mr. Shaitana.

What is he?

An Armenian?
A Greek?

No one knows.

All that is known

is that he is one
of the richest men in London.

He gives me the jitters.

Mind if I make myself scarce?

Non.
Comme vous voulez, madame.

My dear M. Poirot.

M. Shaitana, good day.

How nice to see you.

Not hanging or guillotining much
at present?

Is it off-season
for the criminals

or is our little gallery
about to be robbed?

Oh, alas, monsieur, non.
Non.

I am here purely
in my private capacity.

But I see that you yourself
have lent a few pieces.

Oh, one picks up trifles
here and there.

I have a few interesting objects
I could show you.

I daresay I could even produce one
or two things in your line, Poirot.

Ah. So you have, then,
your private Black Museum?

Oh, no, no, no.

I don't collect
the artifacts of crime--

the murderer's hammer,
the poisoner's cup.

I collect only the finest
objects of their kind.

And what do you consider to be
the finest objects--

artistically speaking--
in crime?

Why, the human beings
who commit them, monsieur.

It is modeled on the Alhambra.

In Pontefract?

In Spain.

Oh. I thought you meant
the picture house. Sorry.

M. Hercule Poirot.

My dear M. Poirot.

Come in.
Come in.

How simply divine to see you.

M. Shaitana.

I don't know if you know
the famous Mrs. Oliver.

Yes.
Of course I do.

Enchanté, madame.

Hello, Poirot.

POIROT:
I did not realize you accepted

these kinds of invitation,
madame.

Oh. Well, Mr. Shaitana can be
awfully persuasive.

We met at a literary dinner.

Mrs. Oliver was the guest
of honor.

Oh, yes. It was the Crime
Writers' Circle, wasn't it?

Come to think of it,
what were you doing there?

You're acquainted
with Superintendent Wheeler?

POIROT:
Yes. Of course.

Please do excuse me.

Superintendent.

Nice to see you again, Poirot.

- And you.
- Keeping well?

ANNE:
Is it really vast, the Amazon?

Oh, yes. In some parts,
it's 30 miles wide, you know.

Goodness.

That's much bigger
than the Thames, isn't it?

Do you know Mr. Shaitana well,
Colonel Hughes?

No, not at all.

I'm rather surprised to be
invited, as a matter of fact.

Do you know him?

I know that he likes
to be different.

Probably went
to the wrong kind of school.

Colonel Hughes.
Excuse us.

Come and meet Major Despard.

I rather think
you've both been on safari.

Now, there's a good boy.

POIROT:
Do you know anyone here, madame?

No.
I don't know a soul.

But I've made a few inquiries.

- Oui?
- Yes.

That little thing
is Anne Meredith.

A country mouse up to town.

The dashing major
can't keep his eyes of her.

As a matter of fact,
I've got his book on my shelf.

Oh.
What's it called?

"Amazonian Idyll."

I haven't read it yet,
but I intend to,

because I'm planning to send
Sven up the jungle.

POIROT: Sven?

Sven Hjerson?

My detective.

Ah.

Fictional, of course.

I've no idea who the older lady
is-- Mrs. Lorrimer.

But she and the young one

have been throwing glances at
each other in a most odd manner.

Who's the policeman?

Superintendent Wheeler
of Scotland Yard.

MRS. OLIVER: Bowel trouble.
That would be my guess.

And your friend
from the Foreign Office?

Oh.
That is Colonel Hughes.

MRS. OLIVER:
Secret Service, is he?

Je ne sais pas.

MRS. OLIVER: Hmm.

It seems our Mr. Shaitana is
a little bit crime-minded,

shall we say?

He has the most curious taste.

One never knows
what he's going to find amusing.

It might be something... cruel.

You mean, peut-étre,
like the fox hunting?

No, I meant something more...

...Oriental.

SHAITANA:
Dr. Roberts.

Good to see you, Shaitana.
I'm not late, am I?

An elderly patient
called me out.

She thought she had a tumor.
I thought she was depressed.

And what did you prescribe?

Champagne and oysters
at Wilton's.

She'll be right as rain
by tomorrow.

Remind me never to go to him
if I'm poorly.

I imagine, Mrs. Oliver,

that Major Despard would know
a suitable method.

He's spent time under canvas,
after all.

Know any good poisons, Despard?

Well, there's curare, I suppose.

My dear man,
that's terribly old-fashioned.

You must know something
more obscure than that.

I mean something new
and totally untraceable.

DESPARD: Well, the truth is
that primitive tribes

tend not to be conversant
with the latest fashions.

They tend to stick with
what their grandfathers used.

MRS. OLIVER: Oh.

I should have thought they were
always experimenting with herbs

and sap and so forth.

In real life, Mrs. Oliver,
people normally use arsenic

because it's nice and handy.

Oh, drivel.

You're only saying that because
there's a vast amount of crimes

Scotland Yard's
never even heard of.

Now, if you had a woman
in charge--

- A woman?
- And why not?

[ Laughter]

Women know about crime.

As a matter of fact,
that's true.

Women are usually
highly successful criminals.

They keep their heads.
They brazen things out.

Typically a woman's weapon
is poison, is it not, Poirot?

Oui.

Often, oui.

There must be a tremendous
number of women poisoners

who have never been found out.

You're absolutely right.

Of course, a doctor also has
many opportunities of that sort.

Oh, Mr. Shaitana,
I must protest.

When we poison our patients,
it's entirely by accident.

[ Laughter]

If I were to commit a crime,

I should like to keep it
very simple.

An accident, perhaps--

a shooting accident,
for example.

Or a domestic accident.

One of the little tragedies
that never gets reported.

But then who am I to pontificate
with so many experts present?

[Clicking]

It is my passion.

I always take one
of my very special guests.

Are we ready?

The last time I was in Egypt,
I met a friend of yours--

a Mrs. Craddock.

Oh.
You knew poor Mrs. Craddock.

Hurry up, old boy.
I can't keep smiling forever.

Stand still, everyone.

Now, I know
that Mrs. Lorrimer plays.

Do you play bridge,
Miss Meredith?

Yes.
I-I'm not frightfully good.

Major Despard?

Yes, I do.

- Doctor?
- Mm.

Excellent.
Excellent.

Now, supposing you four
sit here.

Drinks are on the sideboard.
Do please help yourselves.

And when we've all enjoyed
our lovely game of cards,

I shall have a rather special
announcement to make.

Are you getting married?

No.

It's a secret.

Oh.
I do love a secret.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

And this is for you.

Ah.
Well, one of us must drop out.

Oh, no, no. I don't play.
I never have.

I do not find it
sufficiently thrilling.

WHEELER:
One heart.

POIROT: Pass.

HUGHES:
Three clubs.

Three spades.

WHEELER:
Four hearts.

POIROT:
Doubled.

HUGHES:
No bid.

MRS. OLIVER:
Pass.

Four hearts, then.
Doubled.

So I'm dummy?

Oui.

Thank you very much, partner.

It's jolly curious.

Here are the four of us.

And we're all, well, for want
of a better word, sleuths.

So who are those four in there?

Criminals?

They don't look like criminals.

WHEELER: Most criminals
don't look like criminals,

Mrs. Oliver.

One, no trump.

DR. ROBERTS:
Three hearts.

No bid.

Four hearts.

MRS. LORRIMER: Doubled.

DR. ROBERTS: Pass.

Pass.

HUGHES:
Three clubs.

MRS. OLIVER:
Three spades.

WHEELER:
Doubled.

One heart.

Pass.

HUGHES: Five diamonds.
Game and rubber.

Good for you, partner.

It's 10 past 12:00.
Time for another?

No, no, no. I'm a family man.
You'll have to excuse me.

Oh.
I also must go.

Well, I'm afraid, Mrs. Oliver,
we're all up and you're down.

All I did was follow
my instincts.

I don't know what went wrong
tonight.

How much is it?

Got to be going, Shaitana.

DR. ROBERTS:
Three clubs.

MRS. LORRIMER:
Double three clubs.

ANNE:
Three. No trumps.

DESPARD: Double three.
No trumps.

I'm damned
if he hasn't fallen asleep.

Mr. Shaitana?

I say.
Poirot?

Colonel Hughes?

- HUGHES: My God.
- WHEELER: Ladies and gentlemen,

could I have your attention
for a moment?

I'm very sorry to have to inform
you that Mr. Shaitana...

is dead.

Dead?

Are you sure?
Let me check the man's pulse.

Dr. Roberts,
please stay where you are.

Let me have a look at him.
He may just have fainted.

He hasn't fainted.

He's been murdered.

Murdered?

Stabbed through the heart.

SHAITANA:
Why should I be interested

in the murderer who is caught?

He's a poor specimen--
a failure by definition.

No.
For me, only the best.

And the best, it is?

My dear fellow,
the ones who get away with it.

A, ce n'est pas amusant.

Have I shocked
your bourgeois sensibilities?

It is true I have a thoroughly
bourgeois attitude to murder.

But a murderer can be
an artiste, non?

Mais oui.

But he's still a murderer.

Ah, Poirot.

I understand.

You must adopt this mentality

because if the murderer
gets away with it,

where does that leave you?

WHEELER:
So no butler and no servants.

HUGHES: No.

No one came in,
and no one went out.

WHEELER:
Well, we're agreed, then.

One of that card party
must have killed him.

One of those people, a murderer?
Impossible.

HUGHES:
What do you think, Poirot?

Well, I think this murder,
it was not planned.

I think Shaitana says something
or does something

which causes someone to panic.

Now, he said he was going to
reveal a secret.

So somebody gets the wind up,
and then...

If I were you,
I'd arrest that doctor at once.

Soon as I saw him, my instinct
told me he was a bad 'un.

If we had a woman at the head of
Scotland Yard, I daresay we would.

But because we only have men,

we sort of have to arrive rather
more slowly at our destination.

Right.
Let's get them in.

Mrs. Oliver?

Oh, please, may I stay?

No, no, no. That would be
irregular, Mrs. Oliver.

But I lost three pounds,
seven shillings at bridge,

right next door to a murder.

Oh, please.

WHEELER:
No interruptions. Right?

- O'Connor?
- Sir?

Send in Dr. Roberts.

Sir.

I'd have kept him till last.

Sorry.
Sorry.

In a book, I mean.

Real life is a little different.

Yes.
Badly constructed.

Well, Shaitana amused me.

He was such a bizarre fellow,
wasn't he?

But I had no reason
for killing him,

and I didn't kill him.

Dr. Roberts,
tax your memory carefully

and tell me how many times
you left your seat

at the bridge table.

Well, we began to play at 9:30,
didn't we?

About an hour later,
I stoked the fire.

A short time after that,
I brought drinks for the ladies.

And then, about half past 11:00,
I should say,

I-I got up again to make myself
a whiskey and soda.

WHEELER: And Shaitana, to the
best of your belief, was asleep?

Yes.

You couldn't see him clearly
from your table?

Look, when you're playing
bridge, you're playing bridge.

You're not peering around,
noticing what's going on.

The only person who might be
doing that is dummy.

Dr. Roberts... just give me
your opinion, man to man.

Who did it?

Well, it doesn't
seem to me likely

that the women are in on it.

But that Despard,
he'd take a risk.

And it was a hell of a risk,
wasn't it?

WHEELER:
Look, um...

Go ahead.

It's, uh,
it's been fingerprinted.

There's nothing.

What a tool.

Absolutely made for murder.

Go in like butter, that would.
Whose was it?

It was Shaitana's.

It lay on the table by the door.

SHAITANA:
Stand still, everyone.

Dr. Roberts, do you have
a regular bridge partner?

No.
I-I'm not that serious about it.

But I like the game.

May I ask of you
for your opinion

of your companions tonight--
as card players?

Well, Mrs. Lorrimer
is first class.

I bet she makes a tidy income
out of bridge.

Despard's a good player, too--
what I'd call a sound player.

Long-headed chap.

Miss Meredith you might describe
as safe.

She's not brilliant,
but she doesn't make mistakes.

And of you yourself?

Well, I overcall my hand a bit,
or so they say,

but I've--
I've always found it pays.

Especially where the ladies
are concerned.

I got up only once,
when I was dummy.

I went to the fire.

Mr. Shaitana was still alive
then.

Dr. Roberts poured me a drink.

He also poured himself one
later.

Major Despard also went
to fetch a drink.

Yes, the men moved about
a good deal.

Um, I wasn't really paying
much attention.

Miss Meredith didn't leave
her seat at all.

She didn't get up once?

Sounds unlikely.

Superintendent Wheeler,
I quite realize

that one of the four people
in that room must be guilty.

Naturally, I don't expect you
to simply take my word

that I am not that person.

But you will kindly not imply
that I tell lies.

Did you know Shaitana well?

Yes. I-I'd known Mr. Shaitana
for some time.

I met him in Egypt
at the Mena Palace Hotel.

May I?
It is my hobby.

Oh.

I thought him--
Well, I may as well say it.

A charlatan.

[ Shutter clicks]

I thought him a poseur

and rather theatrical
and irritating.

But-- But I'd no motive
to wish him out of the way.

It's really a matter
of indifference to me

whether he's alive or dead.

Will you take a look at this,
please, Mrs. Lorrimer?

It's a stiletto.

Now, I hope you realize
that with a weapon like that,

a woman could do the trick
just as easily as a man.

Yes, I'm sure she could.

Which of the other people

do you consider to be
the most likely?

Superintendent,
that is an improper question,

and I have no intention
of answering it.

We've been through the place
thoroughly.

Can't find anything at all.

But I'll get that photograph
developed, sir, shall I?

Yes.

[Clock chiming]

What's the idea, Poirot?

Mm, that there may be something

in the way that the players kept
the scores.

Mm.

Now, this is the first rubber.

And you'll notice that
the figures are neat and small,

and it is that
of Mlle. Anne Meredith.

Now, the next--

Now, this score is not so easy
to follow

because is it kept in the style
of cancellation.

But it does tell us something
about Major Despard,

a man who likes to know all
of the time where he stands.

Oh, by the way, Superintendent,
I could not help but notice

that in the bottom of the glass
belonging to M. Shaitana,

there is a little residue.

WHEELER:
Hmm. O'Connor?

Now, this next rubber--

Ah, this is--
this is done by Mme. Lorrimer.

You will notice
that her handwriting is graceful

but firm.

And it is she and Dr. Roberts
against the other two.

There's definitely
something there, sir.

Can't tell what it is.

Well, let's get it analyzed,
then.

And regardez--
1,500 points in one hand.

C'est formidable, huh?

Now, this is
the unfinished rubber.

You will notice that the scores,
they are much lower,

because now the Dr. Roberts,
he is partnering Mlle. Meredith.

And she is a player most timid,
n'est-ce pas?

I live at Wendon Cottage,
Wallingford.

So, how well did you know
Mr. Shaitana?

I didn't know him well at all.

I thought him
a most frightening man.

That awful smile.

And he'd a way
of bending over you

as if he intended to bite you.

WHEELER:
Yes. Where did you meet?

We met in Switzerland
during the winter sports

about nine months ago.

SHAITANA: Hello.

ANNE: He cut marvelous figures
on the ice.

I don't suppose you'd care
to come to an aprés-ski?

ANNE:
They were fun... the parties.

And he wasn't?

He's a shivery kind of chap.

Now, then, um,
about tonight, my dear.

Did you leave your seat at all?

I don't think so.

I-I may have done once.

I-I looked
at the other players' hands.

- So you left your seat once?
- Yes.

But you stayed by the table?

Yes.

All the time?

No. No.

No.
I-I...

I think I walked about.

WHEELER:
You walked about?

To the fire, perhaps?

No.

No, I-I didn't.

I-I didn't get up at all.

[Sighs]

I'm-- I'm sorry, Miss Meredith.

I know that you're nervous,

but you really must try
and tell me the truth.

All right?

So you walked about.

Yes.

Did you walk in the direction
of Mr. Shaitana?

- When he was by the fire?
- Yes.

- No.
- Are you quite sure?

I honestly don't remember.
Honestly.

So who do you think killed him?

I can't believe anyone did.

Someone did, mademoiselle.

And they used this.

[ Gasps]

[Voice breaking]
Oh, it's all so awful.

[Sobs, sighs]

[ Clock ticking ]

My sergeant will get you a taxi,
my dear.

Now, listen.
Take a couple of aspirin.

Try and get some sleep,
all right?

Off you go.

Such a wonderful fatherly air,
Wheeler.

Yes. Well, I-I do have children,
you know.

Besides, she's only a slip
of a thing.

Regardez.

When Mlle. Anne Meredith
keeps the scores...

...she turns over the card,

she draws the line...
and uses the back.

So?

POIROT: So she understands
poverty, mon ami.

She knows what it is
to have nothing.

I had every motive
for disliking Shaitana.

For disliking him,
not killing him.

And what were your motives
for disliking him, Major?

He dressed like a--

Well... you know.

And the perfume.

HUGHES: And yet you accepted
his invitation to dinner.

Were I only to dine in houses
where I approved of my host,

I wouldn't eat out much,
I'm afraid.

Don't you like London society?

What we call civilization?

Only for very short periods.

To come back from abroad
to well-lit rooms,

beautiful women
in beautiful clothes--

Yes, it's pleasant for a time.

[ Inhales deeply]

But after a while, it palls.

The insincerity sickens me,
and I want to be off again.

I know what you mean.

WHEELER: Must be
a dangerous life you lead.

Less dangerous than Shaitana's,
by the look of it.

Well, yes, I think he did lead
a-a fairly dangerous life.

You mean because he meddled
in other peoples' lives?

No, because he meddled
with other peoples' women.

- Didn't he?
- I don't think desirable women

would take a mountebank
like that very seriously.

How did you meet him?

He paid handsomely to accompany
me on one of my expeditions.

Could you describe any
of the other peoples' movements

this evening?

Well, everyone got up
at one time or another.

I doubt I can be too specific.

I remember Mrs. Lorrimer
went to the fire

and, uh, said something
to Mr. Shaitana.

That was a delicious meal,
Mr. Shaitana.

DESPARD: I have no idea whether
he was still alive or not.

WHEELER:
Who do you think killed him?

Well, I know I didn't.

Miss Meredith didn't.

And Mrs. Lorrimer reminds me
of one of my God-fearing aunts.

She didn't.

That leaves
the medical gentleman.

[ Cigarette crackles ]

But why did Shaitana
invite them here?

He invited them here

because he believed one of them
to be a murderer.

So what are you saying?

That he invited a killer
to dinner?

Oui.

Shaitana was a collector.

He collected the fantastic
and the unusual.

I think he invited to dinner
four people

who might have been killers.

HUGHES: Looks like he was right
in one case, at least.

But he can only have suspected
these people.

I mean, he couldn't be sure.

And he believed he brought
to dinner

someone who had committed
murder.

The question, it is why?

SHAITANA: There must be
a tremendous number

of women poisoners
who have never been found out.

A doctor also has plenty
of opportunities of that sort.

Oh, Mr. Shaitana,
I must protest.

When we poison our patients,
it's entirely by accident.

[ Laughter]

If I were to commit a crime,

I should like to keep it
very simple.

An accident, perhaps--

a shooting accident,
for example.

Or a domestic accident.

One of the little tragedies
that never gets reported.

Those words shot home
to one person.

A person who had already killed.

So if we can find the victim,
we can find a hallmark, too.

What do you mean?

He means that man
is an unoriginal animal.

Really?

Women are capable
of infinite variety.

Have you never written
the same plot twice?

Mr. Wheeler, please.

"The Lotus Murder."
"Death of a Debutante."

- You've read them, have you?
- Oui, bien sûr.

And I have noticed
several inaccuracies.

I know.
I know.

I made sulfonal soluble
in water, and it isn't.

- Bother.
- Bien.

What we are searching for
is a murderer who is impulsive,

who will seize the opportunity,
whatever the risk.

Which one of them would do that?

[ Horse neighs]

I don't think you'll find
many chaps

who'll say a word against me.

No indiscretions?

Well, if there were,
I've been discreet about them.

Cherchez la femme, eh?

I think you'll find
my record's clear, Colonel.

Then you won't mind me
having a word

with some of the fellows
from your former regiment?

Rake around in the manure
as much as you like.

You won't find buried treasure.

[Horse neighing]

I'm unmarried.
My parents are dead.

I live here with the cook,
parlormaid, housemaid.

My secretary comes in daily.

I make a good income,

and I only kill a reasonable
number of my patients.

How many?

I beg your pardon.

How many have you killed?

Look, I know you can get
a warrant easily enough.

- [ Intercom buzzes ]
- Miss Burgess, come in, please.

Miss Burgess,
this is Superintendent Wheeler.

Please take him into the office

and let him go through anything
he likes.

Yes, Doctor.

Excuse us, Poirot.

Oui.

Doctor, I have here
the first three rubbers...

from the other evening.

And I wonder
if you could tell to me

exactly how it went, each hand.

How could I possibly
be expected to do that?

Uh, par exemple,
in the first game,

there must have been a game call
in hearts or spades,

or, well, they could not have
gone down 30, could they?

Let me see.

Yes, I think they went out
in spades.

Exactement.

You see what is possible
with the powers of deduction?

So the next hand,
s'il vous plait.

Oh, really Poirot.

You can't expect me
to remember the whole evening.

You can remember nothing at all?

Well, I-I got a grand slam,
but otherwise...

My dear sir, there was a murder.

Oui.
D'accord, d'accord.

So, um, you never saw his name
in the society pages, then?

Shaitana.

I do not read the society pages.

I have better things to do.

What is it you're looking for?

Well, we've, um, we've had
malicious accusations, you see,

and they've got to be
investigated.

Has someone said something
against the doctor?

Well, it-- probably nothing,

but I have to follow it up,
you see, Miss Burgess.

Especially when it concerns
a patient.

Um, a lady patient.

Someone's got hold of the
Craddock story, haven't they?

Yes. Yes.
I'm afraid that they have.

It'd be, what,
about five years ago now?

More like three.

Look, Dr. Roberts
is a thoroughly decent man.

But decent men can suffer at
the hands of hysterical women.

And that's what she was--
hysterical.

And a nymphomaniac, too.

Bloody hell.

And now if you would be so kind

as to describe the contents
of the room in which you played.

Contents of the room?

Aha.
I see.

Psychology.

Well, there was a lot
of fancy furniture.

Non, non, non, non.

Please to be precise.

There was a large settee

upholstered in gold
damask brocade.

- Oui.
- Four or five large chairs.

Several Persian rugs.

Oh, a pair of carved
French consul tables.

- Ah.
- I feel like an auctioneer.

A beautiful Chinese cabinet.

Some jewelry.
I don't know much about that.

Grand piano.

Some Japanese ivory netsuke
on a table.

Some Meissen monkey figures.

And one or two pieces
of Battersea enamel.

Bravo.

[ Door opens]

Well, well, Dr. Roberts.

Your secretary let slip there
was some unpleasant business

with a party name of Craddock
not so long ago.

Ah.

I can see I'm going to have to
come clean.

That, uh,
that would be advisable, sir.

DR. ROBERTS: Dorothy Craddock
was a patient of mine.

- Earache initially.
- [ Door closes ]

But then things got out of hand.

It's not just my ears.

Lots of other parts of me ache
as well.

Which, candidly,
was good sport for a while.

Of course, there was
a husband in the background.

[Hinges squeak]

Always is.

I begged her to divorce him
and marry me.

But she wouldn't.
She just wouldn't.

And we had the devil of a fight.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Can we talk
to this Mrs. Craddock?

No, I'm afraid not.
She's dead.

Dead?

Yes.

In the end, we called it a day,

and Dottie took herself off
to Egypt to recover.

Whilst there, she developed
septicemia somehow.

I don't know how.

And they didn't treat it
very well, and she...

Well, she died.

Septicemia?

The poisoning of the blood.

It was a damn shame.

Old Dottie.

[Birds chirping]

Hello?

Anyone home?

[ Clock ticking ]

[Water splashing ]

Hello there.

Oh, hello.

- Oh.
- I say. I say. Watch out.

How do you do, Miss Meredith?
You remember me, don't you?

Yes.
Of course.

This is my friend Miss Dawes.

Rhoda, this is Mrs. Oliver.

The Mrs. Oliver?
Ariadne Oliver?

[ Exhales sharply]

I am your biggest fan.
Honestly.

I don't know what you think,

but I haven't the least doubt
it was the doctor.

What was his name?

Roberts.

That's it.
A Welsh name.

Never trust the Welsh.

I had a Welsh nanny.

One day she took me to Harrogate
and left me there.

Was very unstable.

Anyway, never mind her.

Roberts did it.
That's the point.

What we have to do is put
our heads together and prove it.

[Laughs]

I do beg your pardon.

You're just so different
from what I imagined.

A disappointment, I expect.

Oh, don't worry.
I'm used to it.

But why would Roberts
want to kill Shaitana?

Have you any idea?

Ideas? Ideas?

I've at least five.

For example...

say Shaitana was a moneylender,
Roberts was in his clutches.

Or Shaitana ruined
his daughter--

or his sister
if he had a sister.

Or-- Or Roberts is a bigamist
and Shaitana knew it.

Or how about this?

Roberts secretly married

Shaitana's long-forgotten
second cousin

and stands to inherit a fortune
in Syrian gold.

How many is that?

- Four.
- This is really good.

Suppose-- Suppose Shaitana knew
some secret in Roberts' past.

Did you notice, my dear,

he said something most peculiar
at dinner,

just before he was killed?

I don't think I did.

What did he say?

Oh, I don't know.

Something about--
Oh, what was it?

Um...

accidents, poisons.

What were the words he used?

I don't remember anything
like that.

Sorry.

Anne, you're cold.
Let's go in.

[ Clears throat]
Bring the tray, dear.

MRS. OLIVER: You see,
he could have been referring

directly to Dr. Roberts
and only Dr. Roberts knew it,

which is why he made a joke
about poisoning his patients.

But I bet it wasn't a joke.

I bet he's murdered
dozens of them.

Do doctors usually murder
their patients?

Wouldn't it have
a rather regrettable effect

on their practice?

Oh, Anne,
Mrs. Oliver's trying to help.

I just wanted to say, um, thank
you for coming, Mrs. Oliver.

So good of you to try and get us
out of a jam.

Act on your instincts, I say.
Ah.

Here's my card.

Look me up in town if you like.

Thank you.

[ Engine turns over]

Bye-bye!

DESPARD:
No, thank you.

I've taken the liberty

of mentioning your name
to my solicitor.

It's a beastly business,

dragging a girl into an affair
of this kind.

Who do you think did it?
Roberts?

I may have done it myself,
for all you know.

We know you didn't.

Never take anything for granted,
Miss Meredith.

Well, uh, I must be off
back to town.

Thank you.

Listen.
Don't be offended.

I...

Well, I think
you're awfully nice.

But there may be something
you don't want to come out,

something Shaitana perhaps
got an inkling of.

If so, remember
you're within your rights

to refuse to answer
any questions

unless your solicitor
is present.

[ Sighs]
Do be cautious, Anne.

You know what men are like.

Yes, but he is
frightfully attractive.

[ Chuckles ]

Thank heavens we've got
the place to ourselves at last.

You have lost two husbands?

I'm sorry to say I have.

Tristesse.

Well, that must have been
so hard for you and your...

Pardon.
Do you have children?

No. I have no children.
How may I help you?

I would like you to describe
the room

in which M. Shaitana,
he was killed.

What an extraordinary request.

[ Inhales deeply]

Well, it was a large room.

There were a good many objects
in it.

And can you describe to me
these objects?

Well, um...

some chairs, some sofas.

And can you remember what was
the color of the upholstery?

No.

Ah.

Do-- Do you remember
anything else at all?

No.

Do you remember these?

[ Chuckles ]

I-I wonder if you could help me
to reconstruct the hands.

[ Both laugh ]

Uh, well, there was...

Yes, there was quite a lot
of bidding on this hand,

I remember.

- Miss Meredith passed.
- No bid.

Major Despard went a heart.
I bid one spade.

Dr. Roberts made a jump bid
of three clubs.

Miss Meredith went three spades.

Major Despard bid four diamonds.

And Dr. Roberts...

Four hearts.

...took it to four hearts.

Pass.

They went down one.

Patant.
What a memory.

Ah. Yes.

This... This third rubber was--
was really rather exciting.

Major Despard and Miss Meredith
made a one-heart call.

Then we went down
a couple of 50s.

Then a battle royal started.

Dr. Roberts overcalled and,

though he went down badly
once or twice,

his calling paid,

for more than once he frightened
Miss Meredith

out of bidding her hand.

Then he bid
an original two spades.

I gave him three diamonds.
He bid four no-trumps.

I bid five spades.

And then he just suddenly jumped
to seven diamonds.

The-- The grand slam.

Yes.

Roberts had no business
making a call like that,

but by some kind of miracle,
we got it.

It was really terrifically
exciting.

Je crois bien.

Well, the grand slam, vulnerable
doubled.

1,500 points.

It causes the emotions,
that, huh?

Yes.

Madame, I salute you.

You remember every single card
that was played.

[ Chuckles ]

Yes, I believe I have.

The memory, it is a thing
most wonderful, n'est-ce pas?

With it, the past
is never the past.

And I imagine, madame,

that to you every incident is as
clear as if it was yesterday.

Like a ghost...

that never goes away.

ANNE:
My father was a stockbroker.

He died when I was 15.

He left no money.

I found a job looking after
three small boys.

A Mrs. Eldon, the Larches,
Ventnor, Isle of Wight.

After two years,
the Eldons moved overseas.

I went to a Mrs. Deering
in Devon.

So, um...

how do you two know
each other?

Rhoda and I were at school
together.

Oh, I see.

And then what?

Poor Mrs. Deering became infirm.

She had to go to a sanatorium.

Rhoda was looking about
for a cottage.

I wanted someone to share with.

Anne was perfect.

I say, Anne.

You didn't mention
the Crossways.

Did you forget?

I didn't think it counted.

I was only there a few weeks.

MRS. OLIVER:
I had a good poke around,

but I didn't see anything
too suspicious.

Yet, to tell the truth,

there's something rather off
about their relationship.

Now, the Rhoda girl,
she's the one with the money.

Yet I would say she's jealous
of Anne.

Anne's the one
with the admirers.

There were, I think,
some photographs of her father,

but absolutely none
of her mother.

Well, that's it.

I expect you've done vastly
more detecting than I have.

Au contraire, madame.

You have told to me
a great deal.

For myself,
the only information that I have

is that Dr. Roberts,
he had a lover.

Oh, really?

Oui.

A lady called Craddock.

She went to Egypt,
where, regrettably, she died.

Lord.
[ Chuckles ]

I went to Egypt once.
It was dismal.

The Pyramids are actually tiny.

And you have to have about
a million ghastly injections

before you go.

And the insects.

Oh, that reminds me.

Here.

Major Despard's opus.

Your opinion, madame,
as an expert?

Well, he could have done with
a decent editor.

That's for sure.

Here.
Take a look.

[ Horse neighs]

DESPARD:
Describe the room?

I don't know that I'm much
of a hand at that sort of thing.

But to my mind,
it was a rotten sort of a room.

Not a man's room at all.

All brocade and silk and stuff.

Awful.

He did have a couple of
top-notch Persian rugs, though.

A Hamadan and, uh,
I think a Tabriz.

Do you play much bridge, Major?

No.
It's a good game, though.

Well, you prefer it to poker?

I do personally.

Poker's too much of a gamble.

[ Horse neighs]

Do you think Shaitana played
any card games?

There's only one game
that Shaitana played.

A low-down game.

Look... we all make mistakes.

Even you, I daresay,
have a failure now and then.

Well, the last one
was 28 years ago.

- So a woman was involved, huh?
- Yes.

Shaitana preferred
to deal with women.

He blackmailed them?

No.
He... He got a kick out of it.

That's the only way
I can put it.

He got a kick
out of seeing people's fear.

He was a louse, Poirot.

What are you doing here?

I was at a legal firm nearby.

I thought it had been too long.

Has Mrs. Oliver been to see you?

Nobody's been to see me
except the foreign fellow.

Not Superintendent Wheeler?

Well, yes, him, of course.

But he doesn't seem
to be trying very hard, does he?

It's as if he knew
who did it already.

How could he know that?

I have no idea.

It's not very nice, is it?

No, it's not.

You're used to it.

Hardly.

[Bell chiming]

I don't like it at all.

Miss Dawes.

Ah!
Rhoda, how nice to see you.

Sit yourself down.

I hope I'm not interrupting.

Well, I am working, as you see.

Only that dreadful
vegetarian Finn of mine.

Oh, Sven Hjerson?
Is it a Sven Hjerson book?

If I ever finish it.

Sven's in a ghastly muddle.

He did some
very clever deduction

with a dish of French beans.

And now he's
just discovered poison

in the sage-and-onion stuffing
of a Michaelmas goose.

Only bother.

French beans are over
by Michaelmas.

Well, they might be tinned.

Well, yeah... they might.

Bother.
I hate horticulture.

Oh, Mrs. Oliver,
it must be marvelous to write.

I mean to sit down
and write a whole book.

How wonderful.

Unfortunately, it's not just
the writing.

One has to think as well.

The only thing
that keeps me going

is the thought
of the serial rights.

I never imagined
you did your own typing.

I thought you'd have
a secretary.

I did have a secretary.

Only she was so competent,
it used to depress me,

so she had to go.

What can I do for you?

I came up to town with Anne--
Miss Meredith.

She's seeing a solicitor--
with that ruffian Despard.

Oh.

She's accepted help
from him, then?

You've got it all wrong,
Mrs. Oliver.

That's why I came up to see you.

I know Anne seemed ungracious,
but it wasn't you.

It was something you said.

Why?

Why?
What did I say?

You said something
about an accident.

And poison.

Well, you see, Anne had
a miserable experience once.

She was living in a house where
a woman took some poison--

silver polish, I think it was--

by mistaking it
for something else.

And she died.

[Thudding]

Servants?

No.
They heard nothing.

But somebody has been
right through these rooms.

It would take some strength
to bash in that window.

I'd say it was a man.

But none of the jewelry
or the antiques has been nicked.

Alors, for what
is he searching?

Do not know.

You think it is related
to the murder?

I-I really couldn't say, Poirot.

Might have been
some bog-standard burglar

who knew the place
was unoccupied.

C'est très mystérieux.

WHEELER:
Oh. [Snaps fingers]

Got the results back
from the lab.

Ah.

Shaitana was given
a sleeping draft.

Not strong enough to kill him.

But strong enough to put him
into the deep sleep?

Yes.

And the only prints on the glass
were his own.

Well, and yours, sir.

Yeah.

I took the glass out of his hand
when we found him, didn't I?

So-- So what we need to do now
is find out who drugged him.

That'll lead us to the murderer.

No.

Pardon, but no,
it is much more complex.

This crime,
it was committed on what?

The spur of the moment,
n'est-ce pas?

But now it looks
as though it was planned. Why?

How can you plan
a crime of impulse?

And what was his intention

in inviting these people
to his house?

He was strange, this Shaitana.

Well, he was a dago
with dago habits.

Beyond the ken of an Englishman.

Seems to have spent half
his life fannying around Egypt.

Oui, d'accord.

Mme. Lorrimer,
she holidays in Egypt.

Mme. Craddock,
she dies in Egypt.

And Shaitana,
always he is there, in Egypt.

Perhaps he was Egyptian.

No.
He was Syrian.

Syrian?

Yes.

How do you know this?

It's in the files.

So did you, um, did you get
anything on Despard, Colonel?

Clean as a whistle.

Fine shot.
Cool head.

Strict disciplinarian.

Liked and trusted
by the natives everywhere.

Cook says dinner
will be ready shortly.

I hope nobody minds garlic.

Ah.

Don't take this out of context,

but Despard led a trip into
the South American interior,

accompanying
a Professor Luxmore.

Oh, yes.
He writes about it in his book.

It's very purple prose.

Does he write that the professor
died of a fever

and was buried
somewhere up the Amazon?

Yes.
He glances over it.

Mm.

Well, there's a rumor going
about that the old boy was shot.

By Despard, in the back.

I lay odds
against it being true.

The man I interviewed
is an officer to the core.

Incapable of murder, you mean?

Incapable of what
I would call murder, yes.

But not incapable
of killing a man

for what might seem to him
good reasons?

If so,
they would be good reasons.

He told to me that he thought
Shaitana was a louse.

All right.

Shaitana may have come across
something about Luxmore's death.

But John Despard
is not a murderer.

[Bells chiming]

Oh, I, um, I called in
on Mrs. Lorrimer.

Of course he has a rock-solid
alibi for the break-in.

But as to her character,
I really have no idea.

She has a power of concentration
that is remarkable

and in consequence is almost
blind to her surroundings.

Dr. Roberts, on the other hand
is an observer who is most keen.

And Despard, well,
he sees only

what harmonizes with the bent
of his own mind.

In this case, the Persian rugs.

I shall question also
Mlle. Meredith,

and soon I shall discover who
or who is not capable of murder.

What if they're all leading you
up the garden path?

No, it is not possible to take
Hercule Poirot along the path.

Whether they try to hinder me
or to help me,

they necessarily reveal
their type of mind.

Right.

I'd better get back to the wife
and kids.

Um, I-I've got something
on Anne Meredith.

Well, we already know--

She was a governess
on the Isle of Wight

and then she went
to a Mrs. Deering.

In between those two,
she had another appointment.

Did she, by God?

Anne Meredith was in the house

where a woman accidentally
took poison and died.

Sorry.
How do you know this?

The Rhoda girl came to see me
and blurted the whole thing out.

It was three years ago
in Devonshire.

Miss Meredith only stayed
a couple of months.

She's never mentioned it,
has she?

Excellent, madame.

You have done better
than any of us.

WHEELER:
[Sighs]

Our prime suspect
has to be Roberts.

Despard was drinking at his club

at the time of the break-in
at Shaitana's.

Meredith could never have
smashed that window.

Whereas the debonair Dr. Roberts
has no alibi at all!

Jim, we have absolutely no proof
he killed anyone.

You just can't accuse the man

because you don't like
his manner.

There is a Mme. Luxmore,
n'est-ce pas?

How did you find out?

My friend Mme. Oliver,

she pointed out that your editor
had made a tiny error.

In chapter 4, you wrote,

"The Luxmores were researching
tropical plants."

Luxmores.

Plural.
Two of them.

Then, later, there is only one.

Did you shoot him?

Yes.

Were you in love with his wife?

MAN: Easy.

[ Inhales deeply]

Old Luxmore claimed

he was researching roots
and mosses for medical purposes.

Turns out he was actually
looking for psychotropic drugs.

Found quite a few, I think.

Idiot began to experiment
on himself

POIROT:
What has happened to him?

DESPARD:
He went berserk.

[Grunting]

[ Screaming ]

Luxmore!

- No!
- [ Gunshot ]

[ Screams ]

DESPARD: There were no other
Europeans for miles.

We thought, Lily and I,
we ought to say

he died of a fever,
try and avoid the scandal.

Poor girl would have been ruined
if the truth had come out.

Matter of fact, so would I.

So I shut the lid
on my finer feelings

and buried him there
and came home.

I didn't think anyone
would ever find out.

But Shaitana discovered.

Yes.

Brute met up with Lily.

May I take your picture?

You look so romantic
looking out across the Nile.

God, I feel like a heel.

The love, Major.

L'amour.

So often it is the same.

It's Mr. Poirot, Doctor.

Sorry, Poirot.
I can't stop.

POIROT:
I have only one small question.

Fire away.
Glad to help if I can.

Did you know that M. Shaitana,
he had been drugged?

Drugged?
I-I thought he was knifed.

But he had been drugged as well.

Well, how could I know that?

Do you think I drugged him first
and then stabbed him?

Is that it?
It's clever.

But it is possible, is it not?
You are a doctor.

My dear sir,
you have a fertile imagination.

I'm sorry.
I must dash.

You go, perhaps, on your rounds
to visit the patients?

Not tonight.
Bridge tournament.

Miss Burgess
is at your disposal.

Cheerio.

Bonsoir.

Is there anything else
I can help you with?

Oui.

[ Door closes ]

Mademoiselle, I have a question
that is most delicate.

Please do not be offended, huh?

All right.

The doctor, h-he...

He is something of
the ladies' man, n'est-ce pas?

[Laughs]
Yes. He's a dog.

I keep waiting for him
to try it on.

- And he doesn't.
- Dommage.

I tried to kiss him under
the mistletoe last Christmas,

but he just pulled a face.

I think he was drunk,
to be honest.

Mademoiselle, could you tell
to me more about Mme. Craddock?

Mrs. Craddock?

Oui.
She died in Egypt, did she not?

You're very suspicious.

I assure you,
the doctor can't be blamed.

He was here
in Harley Street then.

He never set foot in Egypt.
He doesn't like the food.

But Mme. Craddock--
Did she need many inoculations

in order to travel?

Well, of course.

You wouldn't want to catch
anything Egyptian, would you?

Mademoiselle?

The doctor--

Does he have
a regular bridge partner?

Oh, yes. They're devoted
to the game, those two.

They practice for hours
with the door locked.

Have you redecorated?

No, madame.
I have moved.

Of course.
How silly of me not to remember.

What was wrong
with your last apartment?

Walls not straight enough?

You've hit the nail
right on the head.

[ Chuckles ]

Oh, I look dreadful.

POIROT:
No, no, no. Not at all.

So you think Roberts killed
Mrs. Craddock.

How?

Je ne sais pas.

And why,
if he's such a skirt chaser?

Je ne sais pas.

And Despard killed a man?

Oui. D'accord.

But he had no choice.

Je ne sais pas.

I thought you were
supposed to be good at this.

Shaitana.
He must hold the clue.

Yes, but he's dead.

Ah.

Oui.

Bien.
We play.

[ Light classical music
waving ]

Ah.
May I help you?

Uh-- Oh.

I am Hercule Poirot.

And... you are Serge Mureau?

At your service.

Do you wish to commission
a portrait?

Merci.
Non, non, non.

Ah.
Artistic work, is it?

I seek the person
who develops photographic plates

for M. Shaitana.

Well, you've found him.

It is I, Serge Mureau.

Trying to pay for my vices.

All right, cherubs.

He did say somebody
would be along for them one day.

He didn't say
he'd be quite so handsome.

Milles tonnerres.

[Bells chime]

[ Indistinct conversations,
horn honks in distance]

These are a very nice line, sir.

Oui, but I-I must have
the French ones.

Come direct from Paris.

Ah.

With the duty,
they are very expensive.

POIROT: No. They're--
They're very nice.

But, you know, I had in my mind
something of a texture

a little finer.

WOMAN:
These are 100-gauge.

Extra fine.

Like bleeding cobwebs, they are.

POIROT:
Ah. C'est ça.

C'est ça.
Exactement.

They are... 35 shillings a pair,
sir.

35.

Then I will have--
Let me see.

Nineteen pair.

Someone's a lucky girl, then,
ain't she?

POIROT: I have asked you here,
mademoiselle,

because I need your help.

I-I wonder if you could cast
your mind back

to that evening in the
drawing room of M. Shaitana.

Don't worry, darling.

No, no, no, no. Don't worry.
No. Not at all.

It's just that I would like you
to try to remember

what you can from the room.

For example, the, uh,
the tables, the chairs,

the curtains, the fire irons.

What-- What can you describe?

Oh.
I-I see.

[Sighs]

Well... not very much.

Oh.

I don't know
what the wallpaper was like.

- There were rugs on the floor.
- Oui.

There was a piano.

But-- But you must remember,
for example, an object or--

or a piece of the bric-a-brac?

ANNE: There was a case
of Egyptian jewelry

over by the window.

POIROT: Now, was not that
at the opposite end of the room

from the table
on which lay the little dagger?

I never heard
which table that was on.

Ah.

Egyptian Jewelry, you say?

Yes.
It was lovely.

Blues and reds.

Enamels.
One or two lovely scarabs.

Merci, mademoiselle.

So now may I ask you a favor
that is personal?

Well, a-as you know,
Christmas, it is coming on,

and, well, I-I like very much
to send my parcels à l'avance.

And I must buy presents for
my many nieces, grand-nieces.

And, alas, my-- my taste,
it is rather old-fashioned--

What do you want Anne to do?

Well...

Do you think the silk stockings
are a present most welcome?

- [Laughs]
- Yes.

Well-- Well, then I ask
my favor.

I-I have obtained
15 or 16 pair.

Oui?

And, uh, I would like very much
for you to go through them

and to set aside, say,
half a dozen pair

which seem to you
the most desirable.

Certainly.

Merci bien.
Voila.

So if you were to be
kind enough,

well, to choose what, six pair?

Merci beaucoup.

Mlle. Dawes, I have something
I would like to show you.

What?

It is a knife with which
seven people were stabbed

on a ferry
pulling out of Istanbul.

RHODA:
How horrible.

You would like to see it?

Yes, please.

Anne Meredith's a nice girl,
so it can't be her.

And I never thought
Roberts did it.

Despard's much more plausible.

Merci.

So it's either Despard
or Mrs. Lorrimer.

Mrs. Organized, I should say.

Mm.
Perhaps this is true.

And yet--

Superintendent Wheeler.

Ah. Mrs. Oliver.
I hope you don't mind.

I was told
that M. Poirot was here.

- Superintendent, you're welcome.
- Thank you.

Well, um, I've been down
to Devonshire.

I've spoken to the local police.

And you were right.

Anne Meredith worked
for a Mrs. Benson

at a house called Crossways
near Dawlish.

Now, Mrs. Benson
was Rhoda Dawes' aunt.

Every night,
she'd take syrup of figs.

But there was some silver polish
in a bottle

which Anne Meredith broke.

ANNE:
I'm sorry, Mrs. Benson.

Look. There--

There's still some left.

I think there's an empty bottle
in the cupboard.

WHEELER: Now, the police believe
it was an accident.

Even the old lady herself
believed it was an accident.

But somebody put that bottle
into the bathroom,

and the housemaid swears
it wasn't her.

So I'm afraid I believe

Anne Meredith deliberately
murdered her employer.

What I do not know is why.

Because she is a thief.

What?

Oui, bien sflr.

This afternoon,
I made a little experiment.

I invited Anne Meredith
to my apartment

and asked her
the usual questions

about what she can remember
from the room of Shaitana.

She's suspicious, huh?

Very suspicious.

So the cunning dog,
he does one of his best tricks.

He lays the little trap.

She mentions
the case of jewelry.

And I say, "Ah!

Was not that at the opposite end
of the room from the table

on which lay the little dagger?"

But mademoiselle,
she does not fall into the trap.

But then she begins to make
the mistake to relax a little.

She thinks she has outfoxed
Hercule Poirot.

But no.

The real trap,
it has not yet been sprung.

MRS. OLIVER:
You bought 19 pairs?

Oui.
And now there are 17.

WHEELER:
What a risk she took.

POI ROT:
Non, pas du tout.

Of what does she think
I suspect her?

It is murder.

Hercule Poirot is not searching
for the thief.

There is no risk in what,
stealing a few stockings.

She has stolen all her life.

But one time she is caught.

[Hinges squeak]

By her employer, Mme. Benson.

So... Mrs. Benson has to die.

It's a credible plot.

But what about Shaitana?

Did Anne Meredith kill Shaitana?

No, no, no, no.
It's not the same style.

Swapping bottles in a bathroom
is one thing.

Plunging a knife
into someone's chest

and ramming it home like
a tent peg is quite another.

See you?

You commence to think
like a detective.

Do I?

Oui, bien sflr.

But the question,
it still remains, huh?

Who had the motive
to kill Shaitana?

One of them?
All of them?

Well, whoever burgled his house
could probably tell us.

Je comprends bien.

[Bell tolling]

Despard's story holds up.

Old Luxmore was known to be
overfond of the local hooch.

So the major,
he is telling the truth?

Mm.
I daresay.

But we can't know for certain.

And there's something else,
Poirot.

It's just that--

Well, I don't really know
how to put it, old chap.

It's rather troubling.

It's just that I believe we've
left a suspect off the list.

- Who?
- Superintendent Wheeler.

He could have knifed Shaitana
when he went to wake him.

Got to be going, Shaitana.

He knew he was drugged,
so he wouldn't have cried out.

Mr. Shaitana?

I'm damned
if he hasn't fallen asleep.

And Wheeler's prints
were on the glass--

Now, he says
from after the killing.

But perhaps from before.

POIROT:
Already I have had this idea.

The Superintendent Wheeler,
he is my friend.

But if he did kill Shaitana...

...I know why.

I realized from the beginning

that of the four people in
the room of Shaitana that night,

the person with the best brains,

the head that was the coolest
and the most logical,

it was you, madame.

And if I was to put money
on one of those four people

getting away with murder,
I should place my bet on you.

[ Clock ticking ]

So that is what you think of me?

That I am the kind of woman
to commit an ideal murder?

Well, I am.

I confess.

It was me.

I killed him, M. Poirot.

No, madame.

Yes.

Yes.

That-- That is why
I telephoned.

That is what I wanted to say.

Oh.
So you killed Shaitana, huh?

Why?

What, because he found out
something about you?

Something that happened
a long time ago, huh?

Was that another death, madame?

Yes.

You could not know
the weariness.

The loneliness.

No one could know
what it means to...

Unless they have been alone,
as I have,

with the knowledge
of what one has done.

How did you kill Shaitana?

I noticed the dagger
before going in to dinner.

Then we sat down to play.

[ Fire crackling ]

I was the dummy.

I strolled over
to the fireplace.

That was a delicious meal,
Mr. Shaitana.

I do enjoy venison enormously.

POIROT:
Why do you tell to me this now?

Because Anne Meredith
came to me.

And she is your daughter,
I think,

by your first husband,
M. Herbert Meredith.

A marriage certificate,
it is not so hard to find.

I can't bear the thought
that I ruined her life.

I-I can't bear it.

POIROT:
How have you ruined her life?

Why, by stabbing to death
Mr. Shaitana, of course.

Did you drug him first?

No. I-I stabbed him,
as I've just told you.

Mme. Lorrimer,
please to forgive me,

but are you absolutely positive

that you did not plan
this murder beforehand?

That you did not place
the sleeping potion

into his drink?

No. I simply picked up
the dagger and I stabbed him.

Then you are lying to me.

You must be lying.

Really, M. Poirot.
You forget yourself.

The question is, can Hercule
Poirot possibly be wrong?

No one can always be right.

But I am.

Always I am right.

It is so invariable
it startles me.

And now it looks very much
as though I may be wrong,

and that upsets me.

And I should not be upset,
because I am right.

I must be right
because I am never wrong.

Look, I killed Shaitana.

Madame, I am willing to believe
that you killed Shaitana,

but I am not willing to believe
that you killed him

in the way that you said
that you did.

Either the murder of Shaitana,
it was planned beforehand,

or you did not kill him at--

Ah.
I pounce upon it now!

No, madame.

No.
You did not kill Shaitana.

You meet your daughter.
She is scared.

And so you decide
to sacrifice yourself

in order to protect her.

Why?

I'm not an innocent woman.

Thirteen years ago,
I killed my husband.

The father of Anne?

Yes.

How did you kill him?

I pushed him down the stairs.

[ Gasps]

POIROT:
So that you could marry?

Geoffrey Lorrimer, yes.

And he?

He died within a year.

Bad heart.

So it was all for nothing, huh?

Poetic justice, yes.

[Sighs]

So you hang for the murder
of Shaitana

and your daughter, Anne,
she walks free.

Just one question
that still puzzles me.

How can you be
absolutely certain

that it was your daughter, Anne,
who killed Shaitana?

Because I saw her.

It was late in the game.

Anne was dummy.

I looked over
to the fireplace...

...and I saw her
push the knife in.

It was Anne.

RHODA:
So, what does the major say?

He's asked me out to dinner.

Oh.
Has he?

I wish you would tell him

what happened
at my Aunt Benson's, Annie.

I feel sure it'd be better
to mention it,

because if something
does come out,

it might look rather bad.

Rhoda...

it was an accident.

No, it wasn't.

Rhoda, I want to get married.

I want to go off with him
and live somewhere... savage.

I'm sorry,
but that's what I want.

If you do that...

I shall be forced
to tell the police what I know.

You've been telling on me
ever since we were at school!

So I've had enough of it.

I don't want you to go off
with Despard, Annie.

[Sighs]

Why are we arguing?

We're such silly girls.

It's such a beautiful day.

Let's go out on the river
and be friends.

But Despard's a brute.

That great thick neck.

Honestly, Anne, how could you?

[Bell chiming]

I'm chilly.
Could you pass my sweater?

[ Coughs, gasps]

Rhoda!

- They're there!
- Rhoda!

[Coughing]

[ Gasps]

Help.
Help!

That-- That's Despard!

Help.

Oh!

[Coughing]

Help!

Miss Meredith.

I've got you.

Come on. Out you come.
Out you come.

All right, mademoiselle?

There we are.

[ Breathing heavily]

Damn weeds everywhere.

I can't see a thing.

Why did she do that?

WHEELER:
Here we are, my dear.

DESPARD:
Thank you.

ANNE:
She tried to kill me.

My best friend.

But she has killed before,
mademoiselle.

No, she hasn't.

Mais oui.

She killed Mme. Benson,
her aunt.

No.

That was me.

I-I didn't mean to, but... l did.

No. She has allowed you
to think it was your fault.

But the truth is,

she did not want you to be sent
to prison for theft.

ANNE:
We've always been best friends.

But you were her slave.

And so to keep you her slave,
she allowed you to think

that you were guilty.

She also reminded you,
mademoiselle,

of another murder
about which you told her.

What do you mean?

Your mother.

My mother?

Mme. Lorrimer.

It was easy to discover

that your mother married
a M. Herbert Meredith.

Yes.
My father was Herbert Meredith.

She killed him.

I watched it happen.

[ Gasps]

- And you could not live--
- In that house?

No, I could not.

I left.

I had nothing.

I didn't see her again

until that dreadful night
at Shaitana's.

WHEELER:
Well done, Poirot.

We've finally found out
who did it.

I think you know we have not,
Superintendent.

And it was not Anne Meredith.

She did not push in the knife.

This had already been done.

But she sees her mother
watching her,

and her mother thinks that she
has pushed in the knife.

And Anne Meredith,
she is frightened to death.

Well, then,
who did do it, Poirot?

Perhaps it was the person

who broke into the house
of Shaitana.

The person who was searching
for something.

You?

What was I searching for?

Photographs.

Now, look here, Poirot.

I didn't kill him.

I swear it.

You have the motive.

You have the opportunity.

But do you have the character?

This I do not know.

I have asked you all here
to help me to conclude the game.

See, everyone tells to me
that M. Shaitana, he was asleep.

But then I ask myself,

why should a man sleep
at his own party?

And then, of course,
we learn that he was drugged.

But who has drugged him?

The answer?

Personne.

No one.
Because he has drugged himself.

Which is why there were only
his fingerprints--

apart from those, of course,
of the superintendent--

on his glass.

That's a bit far-fetched,
Poirot.

Ah, but I know
that he has drugged himself.

He told me so.

It is as close as one gets
to heaven.

A dive into the infinite,
the ecstatic moment of oblivion.

POIROT:
Shaitana creates the crime,

and then he helped me
to solve it.

He has drugged himself
because he wanted to be killed.

That was the game.

To die and to make fools
of the police.

I ask of everyone what they can
remember from his room

because this gives me the key
to the character, huh?

And with this key,
I unlock the door.

I open it, I enter in,
and what do I discover?

I discover that the murderer
of M. Shaitana,

it was not Mme. Lorrimer, non.

It was not Major Despard, non.

And it was not
Mlle. Anne Meredith, non.

And it was not you,
Superintendent.

It was you, Dr. Roberts.

You killed him.

- Are you mad, Poirot?
- Non.

It was you, and only you, who
could possibly have killed him.

For the reasons of psychology.

You made the call
of the grand slam.

And the bid of the grand slam,
it is most exciting,

n'est-ce pas?

To take all the tricks
on the table.

So now the players,

they play with an attention
which is rapt.

But who is dummy?

And I soon discovered it was,
of course, you, Dr. Roberts.

And for a man
who is usually so observant,

you could remember
strangely little of your game,

suggesting that your mind,
it was on something else.

But, of course, this would not
be an easy matter to prove.

Nor would it be easy to prove

that you also killed
Mme. Craddock.

I know a good psychiatrist.

Shall I book you in?

You killed Mme. Craddock
because she had discovered

that you were in a relationship
with her husband

that was sexual.

You still are.

He visits with you
two or three times a week.

Because he is
your regular bridge partner.

Oh, they're devoted to the game,
those two.

They practice for hours
with the door locked.

Mr. Craddock says
you concentrate better

if you're not disturbed.

But Mme. Craddock,
she found out.

And she threatened
to expose you.

That's rubbish.

Anybody can tell you
I'm a ladies' man.

Yes, of course.
[ Chuckles ]

The ladies' man.

Surely the ladies' man

would find to be irresistible
Mlle. Burgess?

But you never even tried
your luck with her.

Not even under the mistletoe.

She's a secretary, Poirot.

Non, elle est magnifique.

Yet you run away from her.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

And when she thought she heard
a lovers' quarrel

between you and Mme. Craddock,

what she in fact heard was a row
following her discovery

that you had seduced
her husband.

Get your hands off me,
You filthy little pervert!

POIROT: And she threatened
to expose you,

to have you struck off
from the Medical Register.

And so you killed her.

And I know how.

Really?

How?

With her inoculation for Egypt.

While you were preparing
her injection,

she says something to you
that you do not want to hear.

I know just
what you've been up to.

Excuse me, Doctor.

DR. ROBERTS:
That's all right, Miss Burgess.

POIROT:
You are interrupted.

And then thinking
and acting so quickly...

...you contaminate the needle
with bacteria.

Afraid this hurts a bit, Dottie.

It could never hurt
as much as you've hurt me.

POIROT: The poisoning
of her blood which results

takes weeks to develop.

And in the end,
she dies of organ failure.

But, of course, the conditions
in Egypt are to be blamed.

But before she died,
she met M. Shaitana.

- [ Sobs]
- POIROT: She wanted revenge.

And M. Shaitana, as you know...
takes photographs.

[ Paper tearing ]

Photographs, Dr. Roberts.

John Roberts, I'm arresting you
for the murder...

- All right.
- ...of Mr. Shaitana.

All right.

I throw in my hand.

[Vehicles passing ]

Look after her, Major.

Will do.

Mother.

[ Engine turns over]

But why did Shaitana
drug himself?

POIROT:
He is tired of life.

He has a... madness in his soul.

He is searching for a thrill

that would be for him...
the ultimate.

And in order to achieve this,

he invites four people
to his house

whom he believe have killed,
and then he goads them.

There's always an accident--

a shooting accident,
for example.

Or a domestic accident.

One of the little tragedies
that never gets reported.

And then he takes
the sleeping draft

so that when it happens
he will feel no pain.

And it does happen.

And as an extra twist, he tries
to throw the blame on one of us.

He makes us to believe that the
crime that is opportunistic

is made to look as though
it was planned most carefully.

And we start--
Oh, pardon--

Even Hercule Poirot,
he starts to believe it.

When all the time the plan

was to allow a crime that was
opportunistic to happen.

As a plot,
that is distinctly odd.

The plots, madame,
they are all the same.

It is only the psychology
that is different.

Well... well done, Poirot.
Well done.

Merci.

Superintendent.

Sven would have solved it
rather differently.

That's for sure.

Au revoir.

Au revoir, madame.

Superintendent.

Good job you found those
photographs of him, Poirot.

Oui.

Superintendent,
those photographs

are not of Dr. Roberts.

Non.

They are of you.

Oh, dear.

Are they?

Oui.

Well, of course,
if you wish to behave this way,

it is up to you.

But for myself, I do not think
it suits you very well.

But please, in future,

do not let men like Shaitana
take the pictures.

No.

No.
It was stupid of me.

I...

I thought I could get them back,
but he'd stashed them.

And I found them.

And I give them to you
as a gift.

I knew it was not you
who killed him, Superintendent.

The murder of M. Shaitana, it
was committed on impulse, huh?

It was an inspiration,
a flash of genius.

If you had killed him,
you would have planned it.

And it would have been dull.

Not artistic, n'est-ce pas?

So we have played.

[ Door closes ]

And Hercule Poirot...

...he has won.

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