Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 10, Episode 3 - After the Funeral - full transcript

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We commend unto Thy hands
of mercy, most merciful father,

the soul of this,
our dear brother departed.

[ Bird squawks in distance]

And we commit his body
to be consumed by fire.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

And we beseech
Thine infinite goodness

to give us grace to live
in Thy fear and love...

...and to die in Thy favor.

[Whistle blows]

POIROT: My dear friend,
one moment please.



I am simply trying to ascertain

why it is
that I have been kidnapped

and find myself hurtling through
the countryside of England

at a speed
which is quite alarming.

We're going down to a place
called Lytchett St. Mary.

There was a cremation up north
the day before yesterday

of a client and an old friend of
my father's, Richard Abernethie.

Richard died a widower
with no children.

They're a rather disconnected
bunch, the Abernethies.

Not close.

There's Helen.

She was married to
Richard's youngest brother, Leo.

He died some years ago.

Their son, George, is
a bit wild, but likable enough.



- George.
- Don't, Mother.

We'll have to talk about it
at some point.

There's nothing to talk about.

ENTWHISTLE: George's cousin
Rosamund went on the stage

and married an actor,
Michael Shane.

Don't overdo it.
Nobody will be fooled.

Shut up, Michael.
You don't know what I'm...

ENTWHISTLE:
Her sister, Susannah,

does good works for the church.

- Bye-bye.
- Thank you.

ENTWHISTLE: Maude is married
to Richard's brother Timothy.

He was too ill
to attend the funeral.

Maude, I know you want to
get back to Timothy.

I'll whiz through things
as quickly as I can.

Please don't rush things
on my account, Mr. Entwhistle.

ENTWHISTLE: And then,
of course, there's Cora,

Richard's youngest sister.

It was always understood
that Cora

wasn't quite the full shilling.

The "full shilling"?

Not subnormal, you understand.

But given to making up stories

and blurting out things
that were better left unsaid.

And that day,
she was more excitable than ever

to be back at Enderby.

[Birds chirping]

Enderby!

I've missed it so much.

- Madam.
- Thank you.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

All this from corn plasters.

It just doesn't have
any gravitas, does it?

Why, everything's the same.

It hasn't changed a bit!

I don't know why we've all come,
really.

George is going to get
the lion's share

and the rest of us
tuppence ha' penny.

What?

Oh, yes.

Well, I might throw out
a little Maundy money

if you all promise to be good.

Helen says you're working

for the church mission
association, Susannah.

- Yes. Yes. I am.
- Highly commendable.

We're trying to help
the needy children in Africa.

Poor Richard.

Yes.

ENTWHISTLE: Most of the younger
members of the family

had only heard about Cora.

I'd only met her once.

She hadn't changed much.

Still as unguarded as ever.

Dear, dear Lanscombe.

Do you remember
when you used to bring meringues

out to the tree house for us?

- WOMAN: Madam?
- Aye, I do, Miss Cora.

We had a tree house
in the grounds.

We'd camp out down there
when there were parties

and watch the guests arrive.

Timothy; your father, Leo;
your mother, Geraldine; and me.

Oh.
The doll's house.

[ Gasps ]
It's still here.

And the same old toasting fork
we used to toast muffins on.

Cora hasn't changed.

Just put on weight.

CORA: And all the books
and all the paintings.

Honestly, what a fright.

The outfit is totally
unsuitable.

And look at that false hair.

Don't be catty, Rosamund.

Aunt Cora ran off with
a penniless Italian painter.

She was just a girl.

It's rather romantic.

I have to go and see
the old tree house.

Oh.

It seems downright unbelievable,
looking at her now.

George.

Gilbert.

Have you come to pray
for my salvation?

[Whistle blows]

And then...

You read the will?

Yes.

You see, the family expected
his nephew George

to get the lion's share,
as he was Richard's favorite,

while his brother Timothy
would get nothing at all.

They'd fallen out years ago.

As you may know,

Richard appointed me executor
of his will.

Did he leave me anything?

After legacies for the servants,

an annuity for Lanscombe,
and a small award for myself,

the house and the estate
are to be sold

and the proceeds divided equally
between Timothy,

Cora, Rosamund,
Susannah, and Helen.

[ Clock ticking ]

What about George?

ENTWHISTLE: It seems George
has been disinherited.

- How much?
- [ Door closes ]

ENTWHISTLE: I can't say with any
accuracy, but it should be ample

to cover your needs
for the foreseeable future.

Oh, goody.
I shall go to South America.

[Laughs]

I was as surprised
as everybody else.

I knew Richard had intended
George to be the sole heir.

Ah.

That's what had been
in every version of the will.

I'd been on leave,

so I hadn't had a chance to read
this latest version.

Richard did change it
frequently--

adding this and that.

But never so dramatically
as this.

[Whistle blows]

Helen, could I ask you
to stay on

and go through Richard's things?

I can't believe that Richard
has disinherited George.

I was here with him at Enderby,
almost to the last.

I nursed him.

He always led me to believe

that George was to inherit
the estate.

To change his mind
without a word of warning.

Yes.
He didn't say anything to me.

But at least you're all right.

Your visits to him
were a great help.

Oh, for heaven's sake.

It's George I'm concerned with.

ENTWHISTLE: And then Cora
properly put the cat

among the pigeons.

Still, it's been hushed up
very well.

Of course, it's quite
the right thing to do.

I mean, it can't do any good,
making it public.

I'm sorry. I don't quite
understand what you mean, Cora.

But-- But he was murdered,
wasn't he?

[ Exhales sharply]
Aunt Cora!

Cora, really.

Oh. Sorry.
I-I didn't mean--

Oh, how stupid of me.

I did think from what he said...

Oh, dear.
Forget I said anything.

It was really very stupid.

Please forget it.

I-I know I'm always saying
the wrong thing.

Sorry.

I'll make arrangements
for the house and the estate

to be put up for sale
as soon as possible.

[Whistle blows]

You could have cut
the atmosphere with a knife.

Ah.

So this is where we are going,
huh?

To see this Cora
and ask her to explain?

We're going to see her, yes.

But unfortunately,
we can't ask her to explain.

You see, yesterday afternoon,

Cora was hacked to death
by an intruder with a hatchet.

The doctor puts the murder
in the afternoon,

no later than 4:30,
probably much nearer 2:00.

Somebody smashed
the kitchen window

and attacked Mrs. Gallaccio
in her bed.

A particularly brutal attack,
as you saw.

Six or seven blows were struck.

She was in her bed
during the daytime?

She'd slept badly.

She sent the companion
into Reading

to exchange some library books

and took a couple
of sleeping pills.

So she'd have been drowsy

if not already asleep
when they broke in.

So a hatchet seems, well,
excessive, to say the least.

I suppose the companion
could have done it.

Two women living together alone.

You never know what quarrels
and resentments build up.

But by all accounts,
they got on well.

And was anything stolen,
Inspector?

Just a few bits and pieces
of jewelry.

Nothing of any value.

And they could have taken
whatever they wanted.

And this is the odd thing.

We found them shoved in a hedge
not far from the cottage.

I suppose the murderer
may have had a sudden panic

or a fit of remorse.

But in my experience
of criminals, it's unusual.

So, with your permission
of course, Inspector,

I would like to pay a visit
to this companion.

Oh, please do.

She's a sensible enough woman.

Let me know if she says
anything new.

Oui. Merci.

ENTWHISTLE: And then,
on top of everything else,

I discovered there was
a break-in at the office

on the day of the funeral.

The Enderby deeds are missing,

and I haven't had a chance
to attend to it.

But if the deeds are missing...

The house can't be sold

and the family can't get
their share of the money.

A break-in
on the day of the funeral.

The deeds of the house
go missing.

This is indeed
a big coincidence,

n'est-ce pas, monsieur?

Yes, I suppose it is.

Listen, Poirot.

You will take the case on,
won't you?

It would be a great favor to me
if you did.

Oui, monsieur.
I will take the case.

MISS GILCHRIST: The inspector
assures me she didn't suffer.

The first blow
would have killed her.

Oh, dear, I do hope so.

I'm so glad you've come,
Mr. Entwhistle.

Mr. Poirot.

Mademoiselle.

I don't know Mrs. Gallaccio's
family.

I'm rather nervous
about meeting them.

Mrs. Gallaccio bought them
at sales.

She always thought
there was a chance

of picking up something
worthwhile.

They're Mrs. Gallaccio's
own paintings.

They're very good, aren't they?

Oui.

Of course,
I don't know enough to judge,

although my father was
a painter.

Not a very successful one,
unfortunately.

But Mrs. Gallaccio knew a great
deal about artistic things,

poorsouL

[Sniffs]
Ah.

It is the oil paint.

Yes.

She liked to paint in here.

And you got on well with
your employer, mademoiselle?

Oh, yes.

In some ways,
she was rather like a child.

She was not an intellectual.

MISS GILCHRIST:
Perhaps more of an instinctive.

But she was very shrewd,
Mr. Entwhistle.

It quite surprised me sometimes

how she hit the nail
on the head.

And you had been with her
for a long time, huh?

- Three and a half years.
- Ah.

You acted as companion
and, uh, looked after the house?

I did the cooking
and light dusting.

None of the rough.

Mrs. Panter from the village
came in for that.

I don't think of myself
as a servant, Mr. Entwhistle.

I would very much like to see
the bedroom of Mme. Gallaccio--

if that is convenient.

[Hinges squeak]

Inspector Morton said
it was all right to clean

after the police had finished.

I haven't touched
her personal things, of course.

Bon.

Did Cora talk
about her brother's funeral?

She said the chapel was filled
with flowers.

She was very sorry not to see
her other brother-- Timothy?

ENTWHISTLE:
Timothy, yes.

Oh.

C'est très délicieux.

These scones,
they are made by you?

I've always had a hand
with cakes.

Oh, dear.
That sounds as if I'm boasting.

No, no, no.
Not at all.

You do not boast, mademoiselle.

Tell to me, if you please--

How was Mme. Gallaccio when she
returned from the funeral?

The night she got back,

she was happier
than I'd seen her for some time.

She asked me if I'd like to go
to South America.

I said it would be a thing
to dream about.

And she said, "We'll go."

Just like that.

I guessed her brother had
decided to leave her some money

after his visit here.

He came down here?

Yes.
About three weeks ago.

It was a surprise
for Mrs. Gallaccio.

She hadn't seen him
since before her marriage.

I-It quite upset her...

...realizing he was so ill.

He told Cora he was ill?

Yes.

It reminded me
of an old aunt of mine.

I wondered
if he might be suffering

from some softening
of the brain.

Why did you think this?

Mrs. Gallaccio said
he'd started to get ideas

that someone was trying to
poison him.

What?

Please go on, mademoiselle.

She dismissed it, of course.

Old people get fancies
like that, don't they?

[ Dog barking ]

SUSANNAH: Imagine
the desperation of the people

when the rain doesn't come
and the crop fails.

It's hard for us here in England
to believe there is poverty

and hunger in the empire.

Our vision of Africa is one
of exoticism and adventure.

But the mission at Kasane
is a hand-to-mouth affair.

Most of the children there
cannot read or write.

They have no means
of improving their lives

so they may escape from poverty
in the future.

These children need a school.

Our mission in Bechuanaland
is to bring education

and, above all, hope
to the people living there.

I hope you will all give
as generously as you can.

Thank you for coming.

[Applause]

So few people are interested
in mission work.

It's a little dispiriting.

Susannah...

Gilbert-- Mr. Entwhistle rang
with the most shocking news.

It's Cora.

She's been murdered.

What?

It seems a burglar
broke into her cottage

the day after the funeral.

He stole some jewelry,
and he killed her.

Oh, no.

Well, she must have good nerves
to stay in there on her own.

I suspect it is
that she has nowhere to go

until she gets
another situation.

Uh, monsieur, I discovered this.

RICHARD: "And please
don't say anything to anyone

about what I told you.

It may be a mistake.

Your loving brother, Richard."

Lord.

Does that mean he told Cora

who he thought was trying to
poison him?

Perhaps.

Cora Gallaccio announces that
her brother has been murdered,

and then the very next day
she is killed most brutally.

Well, let us suppose
that she was speaking the truth

and that your friend Richard
Abernethie was indeed poisoned.

Who benefited from the death
of Richard?

The whole family.
Apart from George, of course.

And myself, to a small degree.

Ah.
So you yourself are a suspect?

- Now, look here, Poirot.
- Non, non, non, monsieur.

Je fais une blague.
I make a joke, huh?

[ Chuckles ]

Monsieur, we shall go
to see the family.

And we shall tell to them

that I investigate
the death of Cora only.

That way, we may be able
to catch them off their guard.

It is necessary
that I ascertain the whereabouts

of each and every member
of that family

on the day after the funeral.

MAN: You're entering
just a tad early, my sweet.

MISS SORREL:
So I don't enter

on "And now he says he's
going to show her the evidence"?

No. No. No.

Darling, you enter
on "She despises him."

And you don't sit down
immediately.

You just keep standing...

How exciting.
You're most frightfully famous.

You read people's minds--
psychology sort of thing.

Mais, d'accord.

It is the "why" of human
behavior that interests me.

I'd like to murder
that director.

MAN:
Miss Sorrel, do come back!

My apologies, madame,

for intruding at this time
so sensitive.

It is unfortunate, is it not,

to lose two members of one's
family so closely together?

It is, isn't it?

Although I can't think
why anyone would want to murder

someone like Aunt Cora.

It would appear
that it was a burglar

who broke in to steal
some of her possessions.

Please do forgive me,

but it is necessary
that I ask of you both

where you were
on the day after the funeral.

We were at home till 11:00.

Then you left to have lunch
with Oscar.

I was to meet my friend Jane,
but we missed each other.

So I had a lovely day shopping.

We dined after the show and got
back to the flat about midnight.

You do not feel well, madame?

[Sighs]

First-night nerves.

I'm always queasy,

especially when it's absolute
rubbish, like this one.

I must say,
it's the most marvelous luck,

Uncle Richard leaving us
all this lovely money just now.

It means that we can produce
our own plays.

Um, we've got the chance of an
option on a rather good piece.

Terrific lead for me and a...
a good part for Rosamund.

It will make Michael's career.

Larry Olivier
had better watch out.

I'm afraid
there's a bit of a delay

with some of the documents
for the house.

The money won't be available
immediately.

But we can get an advance.

Michael said we could.

It's terribly important.

There's no real hurry, sir.

It's just a question of whether
or not to take up the option.

MAN:
Michael?

Excuse me.
I-I think I'm on.

Did Aunt Cora leave any money?

She left what she had
to your sister.

Well, why Susannah,
I'd like to know.

MAN: Michael,
if you would be so kind.

But she hardly knew me.

And there's her share
of the estate, of course.

Well... it all helps.

If you please to forgive me,

it is necessary that I ask of
you both as to your whereabouts

on the day after the funeral
of Richard Abernethie.

Helen was at Enderby.

I asked her to stay on to look
through Richard's things.

Thank you, Gilbert.

He asked me
on the day of the funeral.

And I was beastly to you
in return.

Oh, please, Helen.
It's quite forgotten.

HELEN:
I've come down for a few days

to see Rosamund
and Michael's play.

I'm staying with Susannah.

MAN:
Susannah!

George.
Where have you been?

[ Door closes ]

Are you all right?

I'm perfectly all right, Mother.
Why do you ask?

Aunt Cora's murder
is all over this rag.

ENTWHISTLE:
George, this is Hercule Poirot.

I've asked him to look into the
circumstances.

I had no idea
you had such famous friends.

- How do you do, Poirot?
- Monsieur.

Poor old Aunt Cora.

I got the feeling she was just
about to kick over the traces.

Don't be flippant about her,
George.

ENTWHISTLE: I tried to reach you
the day after the funeral

to see if everything
was all right,

and I couldn't get hold of you.

Yes. I went to the races
at Hurst Park.

Had two winners,
as a matter of fact.

And your whereabouts,
mademoiselle?

I went to the P&O shipping line

to inquire about traveling
to Africa.

You're going to Africa?

Yes.
As soon as I can get a passage.

Mesdames, merci.

Monsieur, tell to me,
if you please,

the two horses on which you won
some money.

What were their names?

Gaymarck and Isambard II.

Ah.

Merci.

When was the last time you saw
Cora Gallaccio, madame?

Oh, I hadn't seen Cora
since our wedding.

I didn't like to say to Timothy,

"Your youngest sister
is completely batty,"

but I'm afraid
that's what I thought.

And she had this strange habit
of putting her head on one side.

Rather like a bird.

Very odd.

Very odd.

[ Pills rattling, door opens]

Mr. Entwhistle has arrived,
Timothy, with Mr. Poirot.

[ Pills rattle]

Monsieur.

Oh.

Good of you to come, Entwhistle.

I, uh, I mustn't exert myself.
It's doctor's orders.

Well, I can hardly believe it.

Poor little Cora,
killed with a hatchet.

What's the damned country
coming to, I'd like to know.

Mr. Poirot is looking into
Cora's death.

Oh.

I don't know what we want
a private detective for.

My commiserations,
M. Abernethie.

It is a time most difficult
for the family, huh?

I understand that your brother,
he also died recently.

This is what happens when you
get into bed with socialists.

I mean, the whole country's
falling apart.

Look at the state we're in.

We can't get decent servants.

Maude here,
working herself to a shadow,

messing about in the kitchen.

Oh, by the way, Maudie,

I think a lemon syllabub
would go very nicely

with the sole tonight.

Of-- Of course, dear.

And, uh, perhaps a little
clear soup first, hmm?

Psst, psst, psst.

Well, uh, I'll leave you to it.

Do take a seat, Entwhistle.

Thank you.

Now, uh, look here.

You know, Richard never said
anything to me

about wanting a cremation.

Now, who authorized that,
may I ask?

Helen.
It was what he wanted.

Oh.

There'll be some delay
over probate, I'm afraid.

We had a break-in at the office.

The Enderby deeds seem to be
temporarily misplaced.

Oh, well. There's often a delay
in these things.

But the will of your brother

was a surprise most pleasant,
n'est-ce pas?

I understand that you expected
to receive nothing.

Well, it's good of him to let
bygones be bygones, you know.

Oui.

[ Metal clanks, steam hisses]

Madame is mending the car.

Oh, yes.
She's had to learn how.

[ Chuckles ]

We can't afford
the cost of garages,

and, I mean,
obviously I can't do it.

That old heap
is always breaking down.

Broke down on the way home
from the funeral.

Didn't manage
to mend it herself.

She had to take it to a garage.

Ended up having to put up
overnight.

Oh, the cost of hotels
these days.

You know, it's outrageous.

Oui.
C'est scandaleux.

Now, look, Entwhistle.

I'm not well enough

to have anything to do
with inquests or burials.

You'll have to attend to all
that side of things for Cora.

I mean, order a wreath,
of course.

I don't know what one puts
on a stone when it's murder.

You can't very well write
"entered into rest"

or anything like that.

"Oh, Lord,
Thou hast seen my wrong.

Judge Thou my case."

It is the Bible.
Lamentations.

Yes.

Yes, it's appropriate--
if somewhat melodramatic.

Don't shoot.

I never meant for it to turn out
like this.

Damn you.

You deserve to die
for what you've done.

[ Gasps]

[ Light applause]

[ Hinges squeaking]

[ Scattered applause]

HELEN:
You two were terribly good.

SUSANNAH:
Oh, yes. You were--

You don't have to be polite.

GEORGE: Thank goodness for that.
Play's an absolute dog.

We know.
There's no advance.

We're taking bets we'll close
before the end of the week.

One becomes an actor
because one loves the theater.

And one ends up playing
most appalling tripe.

Any actor would kill
for good parts.

Gosh.
It is enormous!

[Laughs]

It must be quite terrifying.

Not when you're used to it,
Aunt Helen.

The audience becomes
one's bosom pal.

Drink, anyone?

Isn't it terribly sad
about Aunt Cora?

I was looking at her
at the funeral

thinking one might as well
be dead if one looked like that.

And now she is.
[ Snorts]

[Laughs]

That is a wicked thing to say.

Oh, don't be so po-faced.

Entwhistle obviously took
what Cora had to say

about Richard at the funeral
seriously.

If somebody murdered
Uncle Richard

and then realized
Aunt Cora knew,

they'd have to kill her,
wouldn't they?

Otherwise she might go
to the police.

And we were the ones
who heard her say it.

So Poirot thinks
one of us must be the murderer.

[ Laughter,
indistinct conversations ]

Hello.

Hmm?

Why didn't you come
to the restaurant with us?

I am sorry Uncle Richard
cut you out of the will.

It was a cruel thing to do.

But you can't let it send you
off the rails.

And there's no reason
to be so beastly to your mother.

On the contrary.

There's every reason.

In the end,
what does the money matter?

You'd only lose it on horses
or spend it on drink.

Well, you're out of it now,
aren't you?

Off to Africa
with the missionaries.

George, don't.

No, Susannah.

[ Laughter]

They try to pull the wool
upon my eyes, monsieur.

They are all lying,
the whole family.

Not all of them, surely.

Oui.

They are all lying

about where they were on the day
after the funeral.

Each and every one of them could
have been in Lytchett St. Mary

and murdered Cora Gallaccio.

No.
They lie very well.

They are all performers.

[Bird calling]

Welcome to Enderby, Mr. Poirot.

Merci.

Ah.
C'est magnifique.

Dr. Larraby, I thank you so much
for coming here to see me.

Tell to me, if you please--

If I wanted to poison a man
who is sick

and I wish that his doctors
to suspect nothing,

how would I achieve this?

Y-You'd have to use
some kind of narcotic

so there was no sign of cyanosis
for anyone to spot.

And then arrange
for his body to be cremated

so that no evidence
can be found.

It is possible.

If I'd had any suspicion
about Richard's death,

I would have informed the police
immediately.

But cremation is a choice
most unusual

for an English gentleman,
is it not?

Well, I was somewhat surprised,
I must admit.

But that does not mean
that he was poisoned.

He died of natural causes.

Oh, so you can say
with certainty

that Richard Abernethie,
he was not poisoned, huh?

Uh, n-no.

I wish I could.

It is possible that someone put
a narcotic in his food

or extracted the oil from his
vitamin tablets and replaced it.

But why would anyone
want to do that?

Ah.

M. Lanscombe?

Oh, Mr. Poirot.

Oui. Oui.

Would you please be kind enough
to tell me--

In your opinion, is it possible
that M. Richard Abernethie

took too much of his medicine
in error?

Oh, no, sir.

The master's wits were as sharp
as they'd always been

right to the end.

Besides, Mrs. Helen was here

to keep an eye on things
just in case.

So Mme. Helen Abernethie was
staying here until Richard died?

Aye, she was.

She nursed him right to the end.

And were there any other visits
to the house

during those last days?

Or did anything occur
that would have upset him?

Well, the vicar came to tea
the day before.

Oh, and the morning he died,
we had some nuns call.

What is Nunscall?

Nuns.

Ah.
Religieux?

- Yeah.
- Oui.

Did they stay for long?

Oh, no, sir.

They were collecting
for charity.

I understand
that M. Richard Abernethie,

he had some family to stay
during those last weeks?

Aye, they did.

First was Miss Rosamund
and her husband,

followed by Miss Susannah.

And, uh, young George came
last of all.

Was there anything unusual
about these visits?

Well, the master and George had
a terrible fight.

They got on well as a rule,
but on that day...

[Sighs]

I'd never seen them both
so angry and upset.

George was in a terrible state.

Get out of my way!

[ Glass shatters ]

LANSCOMBE: It was the day
before the master died.

He never had a chance
to make it up with George.

And you were one
of the witnesses to the will,

were you not?

Aye.

Did you read the contents?

Well, he asked me to.

But the truth is, sir...

the old eyes aren't
what they were.

I didn't want to tell him
I couldn't see...

in case he asked me to go.

But, uh, I just looked down
the page and--

Page?

It was more than a page.

Oh, no, sir.

I remember it well.

It were just one page.

ENTWHISTLE:
It's not Richard's signature.

It's very like it,
but it's not his signature.

It's a fake, Poirot.
The whole bloody thing's a fake.

How could I not have spotted it?

Because, mon ami,
it is a very good fake.

Very good indeed.

Miss Gilchrist?

Susannah Henderson.

I'm Mrs. Gallaccio's niece.

Oh. I-I'm sorry.
C-Come in.

Come in, Miss Henderson.

Thank you.

I seem to have startled you.

You did, actually.

I'm not normally
a nervous person,

but I've been jumpy
since the police constable left.

The doorbell rang
half an hour ago,

and I could hardly bring myself
to answer it.

Which is silly, as a murderer
is unlikely to come back

and ring the doorbell, isn't he?

It was only a nun
collecting for charity.

Miss Gilchrist, Aunt Cora left
what she had to me.

I'll be staying a few days
to go through her things.

Now, what are your plans
for the future, Miss Gilchrist?

I have to find another position.

Well, you're welcome to stay on
here till you find one.

And I hope three months' salary
will help.

That's very generous,
Miss Henderson.

[Hinges squeak]

These are Mrs. Gallaccio's
own paintings.

She and Mr. Gallaccio lived
in Brittany

and then in Cornwall.

Fishing boats are so
picturesque, aren't they?

Mm.

Mrs. Gallaccio did say she'd
leave me some of her paintings.

These ones she painted herself,
I mean, as a memento.

[ Clock ticking ]

Oh.

Help yourself
to any of these you want.

Did you want anything else?

Oh, no.
Nothing more, thank you.

She left me
a lovely amethyst necklace.

One could almost make
picture postcards from these.

Did she copy?

No.

Mrs. Gallaccio was
a true artist.

[Birds chirping]

George.

I didn't know
you were down here.

I came to see
if I could lend Susannah a hand.

Susannah's here, too?

Yes.

What brings you down?

I've come to look in
on Miss Gilchrist.

One or two odds and ends
to sort out with Cora's papers.

HELEN:
Mr. Poirot?

Ah.
Mme. Abernethie.

Mr. Poirot, are you here because
you think Richard was murdered?

[ Exhales sharply]

Madame, I cannot tell

whether M. Richard Abernethie
was murdered or not.

But I understand that his sister
made a remark to that effect

at the funeral.

I don't like to speak ill
of the dead.

But from what I know of Cora,

she wouldn't let the truth stand
in the way of a good story.

No, but Richard had been
to visit her,

and that much is the truth.

Mr. Poirot,
Richard wasn't murdered.

He couldn't have been.

I was here with him
almost to the end.

You stayed here often, madame?

He invited me a few times
in the last weeks.

He was very low in spirits.

Your son, George,
also made a visit

during those last weeks,
I understand.

Richard had all the family down,
not just George.

Tell to me, madame--

Were you surprised
when your son, George,

did not inherit anything
from his uncle?

Yes, I was.

It was a cruel thing
for Richard to do,

and I find it hard
to understand.

I do not think you were meant
to understand, madame.

What do you mean?

Well, I suspect that the will
that disinherited your son...

it is a fake.

Did they get on well together,

Mme. Helen
and M. Richard Abernethie?

WOMAN:
Oh, yes.

The master were fond of her.
Very fond indeed.

She went to London yesterday
to see Miss Rosamund's show.

They seem to whiz up and down
to London

for almost anything these days.

She was here all the time
until yesterday.

Aye.

No, no.
I tell a lie.

She went off in a car one day.

Said she wanted to be
on her own.

Can you remember
which day was that, madame?

It was the day we had beef.

It must have been
the day after the funeral.

She didn't get back till after
midnight and couldn't face it.

And I remember thinking
it was such a waste.

This were the master's bedroom.

[Hinges squeak]

And his medicines,
they were kept in here?

Yes, sir.
By his bed.

Merci.

So, this is where...

Yes.

That's one of
Mr. Gallaccio's paintings.

Racy.

Are you always such a prude,
Susannah?

[ Doorbell rings]

Oh.
Excuse me.

Buon giorno,
Signorina Gilchrist.

Oh, dear.

Oh, my goodness.

You'd better come in,
Mr. Gallaccio.

Grazie.

It's Mr. Gallaccio.

Oh.
Are you Cora's ex-husband?

S-

Um, Cora had, uh,
written a letter

asking me to come to look
at a painting she had found

which she, uh,
she thought might be valuable.

Gilbert Entwhistle,
family solicitor.

Piacere.

Susannah Henderson,
Cora's niece.

I am sad to meet you at this
sorrowful time, signorina.

George Abernethie.

Piacere.

Perhaps this is not
the most appropriate time

for the valuing, signorina.

It is better
I take the painting away.

No, old chap. I don't think
anything should leave the house.

No. You must value the painting
now that you're here.

Mrs. Gallaccio hoped it might be
an Italian primitive.

Do you think
it's worth anything?

Accumulato sporco
per molti anni.

Uh, dirt.

Dirt is a wonderful thing.

It gives a patina
of, uh, romance

to even a very bad painting.

I am glad perhaps I do not
have to disappoint poor Cora.

This painting
is probably not even worth

the meager shillings
she paid for it.

Mi dispiace.

You were hoping for something
valuable, Susannah?

I thought you had no interest
in worldly possessions.

It's not for me, George.

It's for school books
in Bechuanaland.

Ah.

[Birds chirping]

I tried to ring George
to tell him about the will,

but I can't get hold of him.

He said he'd be at home.
I don't know where he can be.

Who would hate him that much?

Timothy?

He didn't expect to get
anything.

But to forge a will is a crime
most serious, madame.

The police,
they will have to be informed.

It must have been substituted
on the day of the funeral.

Why?

Well, because until then,
it was locked in the safe

at the offices of M. Entwhistle.

Tell me, madame--

Do you remember
anyone going off alone that day?

Cora wandered off
to see the tree house.

George stormed out, of course,

but that was after the will
was read.

And I remember Susannah
going somewhere, too.

[ Sighs]
It's no good.

There was so much coming
and going.

I felt there was something wrong
that day.

In what way wrong, madame?

Unexpected or surprising?

Sinister, even?

Not sinister, no.

More a sense of something
not being quite right.

I can't put my finger
on what it was.

Do not try to think of it,
madame.

Sooner or later it will--
how do you say?--

plop into the mind.

[ Engine turns off]

[Coughs]

TIMOTHY:
Come on, Maude.

MAUDE:
[ Coughing ]

What on earth
are you doing here?

If the house can't be sold
and we can't get our money...

we're just going to stay here
until it's sorted out.

I don't see why you should have
the run of my family home

and full use of the servants
when Maude and I are struggling,

with no one so much as to make
us a-a cup--

A __
[ Coughs]

A cup of tea.

Get Lanscombe, Maude.

Tell him to bring the chair.

[Coughs]

Cora was not an artist.

But she had the temperament
of an artist.

She seemed to me a woman

who didn't care tuppence
about convention

or doing the right thing.

Admirable, I'd say.

And very refreshing.

As a girl, she was, um,
pieno di vita.

Come si dice?
Uh, how you say?

So full of life.

Oh, excuse me.

I must, uh, catch the train
back to London.

- Signorina.
- Goodbye, Mr. Gallaccio.

It's very nice to meet you.

Thank you.
Bye.

I'd better be going, too.

Find my way back to the hotel.

Yes.
It's easy to miss.

But you can see the church--

So...

So...

[ Door closes ]

MISS GILCHRIST:
Oh. Oh, what's this?

How strange.

The postman must have called.

This was behind
the umbrella stand.

It's addressed to me,
but I'm not expecting anything.

Do you know Mr. Gallaccio well,
Miss Gilchrist?

- No, not well.
- [ Paper rustling ]

He's been here
a couple of times.

It looks like wedding cake.

Did Aunt Cora write to him
often?

Well, yes.
Fairly often, I suppose.

SUSAN NAH:
[Sighs]

It is!

Who can it be from?

John and Mary.

Can't think who they are.

It could be Dorothy's daughter.
Her name was Mary.

But I-I haven't heard
of a wedding.

Would either of you like
some of this?

GEORGE:
Not for me.

I don't like fruitcake.

Poor Aunt Cora.

Maybe I could sleep here,
on the couch.

SUSANNAH: No.

We mustn't take advantage
of you, Miss Gilchrist.

George can put up
in the village.

George.

It just seemed odd to me.

I-I thought I'd better
let you know right away.

It's the King's Arms Hotel,
Lytchett St. Mary.

Of course, there may be a
perfectly innocent explanation.

C'est possible, bien sûr.

That is most useful information,
monsieur.

Most useful indeed.

I will join you there
in the morning.

Bonne nuit, mon ami.
A demain.

ENTWHISTLE:
Good night.

[Bell chimes]

TIMOTHY:
There's no going back now.

I didn't know it was going to
turn out like this, did I?

I certainly didn't think

that painted little French
popinjay was going to be here,

sticking his nose
where it doesn't concern him.

MAUDE:
It's a disaster, Timothy.

We'll get caught.

Not if we keep our nerve.

We've just got to make it seem
as if it never happened.

WOMAN:
Help me.

[ Gasping ]

Help. Help.

[Hinges squeak]

[Gasping continues]

[Coughs]

[ Gasping ]

What's wrong?

[Groaning]

Are you ill?

Yes. I-I...

I-I'll get you some bicarbonate.

No, no, no.
Get me an ambulance.

We'll call a doctor
in the morning.

Get an ambulance quickly.

[ Breathing heavily]

I think I'm dying.

[ Doorbell rings]

Miss Henderson?

Yes.

I'm Inspector Morton,
Lytchett St. Mary Police.

Are you sure you gave the doctor
a complete account

of what Miss Gilchrist had
to eat and drink last night?

Yes.
We had the same thing.

Macaroni au gratin
and a custard pudding.

Coffee afterwards.
Why?

She must have had something
that you didn't have.

Poirot, somebody's tried to
poison Miss Gilchrist

with arsenic.

No.
That's impossible.

Oh.

The-- The wedding cake.

Um, I'm afraid I've not finished
clearing up in here.

[ Clock ticking ]

POIROT:
Et voilé.

Put a piece of wedding cake
underneath a pillow,

and you will dream
of your future husband.

That is how the saying, it goes,
n'est-ce pas?

Why on earth didn't she tell us?

No doubt because she felt

that she would appear foolish
having such hopes.

I am so very sorry,
mademoiselle.

Why would anyone want to
kill me, Mr. Poirot?

I've nothing to leave.

Nobody would benefit
from my death.

I think you must not stay
at the cottage.

But where can I go?

When you are recovered,
you must come to Enderby.

It is the family home
of the Abernethies,

and I myself will be there.

No. No.

Mr. Poirot, I-I couldn't.

Mlle. Gilchrist,

I am commissioned to find
the murderer of Mme. Gallaccio.

And it is possible that you
may be able to assist me.

But I don't know
who killed Mrs. Gallaccio.

But you may know more
than you think.

Susannah?

What are you doing?

- I am going.
- Where?

I don't know.
Anywhere.

Africa.

You can't run away now.

Don't be cowardly.

You are being beastly since you
lost out on that money.

It's not about the money.

Isn't it?

Isn't that all
you really care about?

Don't go, Susannah.

We're in too deep.

I'm frightened.

Don't be frightened.

When you've done what I've done,

fear becomes
somehow meaningless.

Signore Gallaccio.

Signore Entwhistle.

May I introduce
M. Hercule Poirot.

Signore.
I have heard of you, of course.

And me also of you, signore.

Your reputation,
it goes before you.

I am commissioned to investigate

the murder of your late wife,
signore.

I wish to invite you to Enderby,

the home of her brother,
Richard Abernethie.

Are you sure I would be welcome?

I was not allowed in the house
of Signore Abernethie

when he was alive.

Well, the family,

they are choosing keepsakes from
the house before it is sold.

Perhaps you would like
to choose something

on behalf of your late wife.

If you insist, I come.

Merci, signore.

- Good day.
- Signore.

So, do you think
he's the murderer, Poirot?

I must get up to Enderby myself.

I hate the thought of poor Helen
stuck there

with Timothy and Maude.

I also wish to speak
to Mme. Helen Abernethie.

I will meet you there, mon ami.

But first I must go
to the theater.

Uh, now, look, Poirot.
Please don't pester Helen.

She had nothing to do
with all this.

She wants to find out the truth
as much as we do.

But she has no alibi
for the day after the funeral.

- She was at Enderby.
- No, no, no.

She left Enderby
early in the morning

and did not return
until late at night.

Well...

Well, that's as may be.

But she didn't kill anyone.
She wouldn't.

She benefited from the death
of Richard Abernethie,

just like the others.

You are fond
of Helen Abernethie, mon ami?

Ah.

It is easy to let the tender
feelings cloud the judgment.

WOMAN:
Check in her dressing room.

MAN:
She's not there.

WOMAN: But you said
you'd get away tonight.

MAN: I'll make up for it
on Friday, I promise.

Hmm?

WOMAN ON P.A.:
Miss Dainton, your call.

Miss Dainton.

MAN:
Change those shelves.

Poirot.

Um, Miss Dainton and I

were just running through
some lines from the play.

I see.

So you rehearse your parts?

Hm. You're not trying
to insinuate anything, are you?

Oh, no, no, no, monsieur.
I never insinuate.

But I-I was hoping to see
your wife.

You just missed her.

She popped out.

Ah.

I would like to invite you both
to Enderby.

M. Entwhistle wishes the family
to choose some keepsakes

from the house
before it is sold.

[Vehicles passing ]

You seem to be at home
in this house, madame.

It is sad that it is to be sold,
n'est-ce pas?

One has to accept
what comes in life, Mr. Poirot.

There's no point in regrets
and looking back.

One could spend one's whole life
regretting.

D'accord.

Madame, on the day before
Richard died,

what did he and George
argue about?

Oh!

How careless of me.

Oh, please.

I've, um, really no idea.

They were very fond
of each other.

They were bound to have
disagreements.

[Bell chiming]

Madame, tell to me,
if you please--

Where did you go on the day
after the funeral,

the day of the murder
of Cora Gallaccio?

So I am a suspect
in your investigations.

Madame, I only wish to discover
the truth,

and I understand that that is
your wish also.

I went to scatter
Richard's ashes.

There's a place out on the moors
he was very fond of.

Did anyone see you there?

No.

It's an isolated spot.

Mm.

Madame, I have invited the
family to come here to Enderby.

You're setting a trap
for someone?

No.

I do not yet know enough.

But I do know about psychology,
madame.

And when people are together
in the room and they talk,

the truth, sooner or later,
it will always be revealed.

M. Timothy, the family
has been invited here to--

[ Breathing heavily]

You have trouble
with the breathing, monsieur?

Asthma, old chap.

Since I was a boy.

It's worse amongst--
amongst the flora, do you see?

Oh, Timothy.
Are you all right now?

Really, Mr. Poirot.

- He's a very sick man.
- ENTWHISTLE: Poirot!

Poirot!

The deeds of the house--

I've just found them
in my briefcase.

I must have been carrying them
'round with me the whole time.

Helen.

The deeds--
They've just turned up.

So the house can be sold.

I'm going to the village.

I want to get these sent
down to the office right away.

We'll drive up in the morning,
then.

Okay.
Oh, I'll be late tonight.

I'm dining with Oscar.

Darling Oscar.

Give him my love.

He'll be pleased to see you
after all this time.

Anyone would think
I hadn't seen him in months.

We lunched together
the day after the funeral.

How funny.

He rang up yesterday
and said he hadn't seen you

since the opening night
of "Silver Swan," which was, oh,

six weeks ago?

He's forgotten.

The old idiot's going off
his head.

Don't take me for a fool,
Michael.

You were nowhere near Oscar
that day.

What about you?

You said you were going shopping
with Jane.

Jane's in America.
Has been for months.

We do want to take up the option
and get this play on, don't we?

"Want to"?

It's the part
I've always dreamed of.

It'll make me a star.

One mustn't take too many risks,
then, must one?

[ Brake clicks]

Signorina, buon giorno.

Giovanni Gallaccio.

It is wonderful to be here
at your beautiful English home.

Uh, no.

I-It's not mine.

Signora, actually.

Ah.
S, signora.

Grazie.
Grazie.

[ Engine revs, turns off]

Are we choosing keepsakes?

Because if we are,
Michael and I want

the green malachite table
in the drawing room.

You can't have that, Rosamund.
We want it.

And for sentiment's sake,

we should like to have
the Spode dessert service.

We shall be quite content
with that.

Too late, Uncle.

The Spode's been marked down
to me, I'm afraid?

TIMOTHY: "Marked down"?
What do you mean, "marked down"?

Nothing's been settled yet.

What do you want
with a dessert service?

You're not even married.
[ Chuckles ]

I thought no material gifts

could replace your brother,
Uncle.

- [ Silverware clatters ]
- Damn and blast, George!

Keep out of it!

Does it have to be
that particular table, Rosamund?

Oh, do be quiet, Susannah.

But if Timothy
really wants it--

Oh, no, no.
Don't mind me.

I'm only Richard's
last surviving brother.

Don't upset him, Rosamund.

You know his heart is weak.

Uncle Timothy
will outlive us all.

He's a creaking gate.

I don't wonder
Richard cut you out.

What do you mean?

The table is just right
for the new play.

We want to give it
the best chance we can.

We don't want it closing
as soon as it opened,

like "Murder in Mayfair."

Closed, did it?
That's a surprise.

[Glass thuds]

The malachite table is
especially nice.

It must be worth a lot of money.

It will be deducted from our
share of the estate, of course.

I-I'm so sorry.

I-I didn't mean...

The wax flowers look so right
on it.

Really artistic.

MICHAEL: Do you actually think
that table

is going to fit in the car,
Rosamund?

ROSAMUND:
Well, it'll have to, Michael.

I'm not coming back here
for anything.

SUSANNAH: Rosamund, you really
are the most stubborn--

I...I f-feel rather unwell.

Maude!
I need to lie down.

Of course, Timothy.

MICHAEL:
Honestly. That man.

How does he do it?

Maude spends her life
waiting on him hand and foot.

Yes, it's extraordinary,
isn't it...

[ Clears throat]

...the way some women are loyal
to buffoons of husbands,

when other men,

men who should inspire
real loyalty, are made fools of?

What was Cora's cottage like,
Susannah?

Did you see
any of her paintings?

SUSAN NAH: Yes.

They were rather...

rather touching.

I think she copied
from postcards.

Oh, no.
Mrs. Gallaccio would never copy.

She was a real artist.

I remember at least one occasion
when she suffered from sunstroke

because she wouldn't stop
when the light was right.

Timothy has gone to bed.

Miss Gilchrist,
would you kindly prepare a tray

of milk and biscuits?

He needs a snack
when he wakes up.

GEORGE:
[ Snorts, clears throat]

I-I'll do it right away,
Mrs. Abernethie.

[ Door opens]

SUSANNAH:
I'm sure Aunt Cora did copy.

I didn't want to press it
with Miss Gilchrist here.

And why are you sure,
mademoiselle?

Uh...

Well, her paintings are mostly
seaside scenes,

and there's one of Polflexan--
the lighthouse and the pier.

But that pier burnt down
five years ago.

I remember reading about it.

And her painting is dated
last year.

Oh, yes.

And then in her bedroom, I found
an old postcard of Polflexan

with the pier still in place.

Was this the first time
you made a visit

to Lytchett St. Mary,
mademoiselle?

Yes.

Even if she did copy,
I mean, it's not a crime, is it?

I mean...

[ Down-tempo music playing ]

M. Entwhistle informs me that
interest in buying this house

has been expressed
by a convent school,

uh, run by les religieuses.

Merci.

You would say nuns.

[ Dice rattling]

GEORGE:
Nuns are a good bet.

They'll look after
the old place.

It's hard to imagine anyone
wanting to become a nun.

The outfits are terribly
flattering.

When they revived
"The Miracle Worker,"

Sonia Wells looked too glamorous
for words.

I don't think one looks properly
at nuns or priests.

At their faces, I mean.

We don't look properly
at anyone.

I remember reading somewhere
that witnesses in court

often give wildly differing
descriptions of the same person.

Is that true, Poirot?

It is so.

SUSANNAH:
I find it odd

when sometimes you catch sight
of yourself in the mirror

and you say to yourself,
"Don't I know that person?"

And then you realize it's you.

[Laughs]

It would be more confusing still
if you could really see yourself

and not a mirror image.

Why?

Because no one ever sees
themselves as they really are

or as they appear to others.

Whenever one sees oneself
in a glass,

it is always as an image
that is reversed.

Why does that make a difference?

SUSANNAH: People's faces
aren't the same on both sides.

Their mouths go up on one side,
down on the other.

And their noses aren't straight.
Look. I'll show you.

There.
Do you see?

[Laughs]

They're not the same.

ROSAMUND:
Here. Let me.

Ah.
[ Clears throat]

Well?

[ Laughter]

You should be in bed,
mademoiselle.

I'm getting Mr. Timothy's cocoa.

Ah.

Can I make you some?

Oh, that is most kind,
but I prefer to make my own.

I hope I'm not speaking
out of turn, Mr. Poirot,

but Mrs. Gallaccio is dead,

and nobody in her family seems
to really care.

No. That is perhaps because they
did not know her as you did.

Young people nowadays seem
so uncaring.

They don't know what it is
to be alone in the world.

Ah.

The journey of life,

it can be hard for those of us
who travel alone, mademoiselle.

Have you always been a companion
to a lady?

No.
[ Chuckles softly]

I used to have my own tea shop.

Ah.

The Willow Tree.

It was a delightful
little place, Mr. Poirot.

All the china was blue
willow pattern-- so pretty.

And the cakes were really
awfully good,

if I say it myself.

But a Lyons establishment
opened up nearby

and my little place failed.

Ah.

Well, this happens to many
people in these times, I think.

[Bell chimes]

It's Mr. Timothy's bell.

Ah.

[ Clock ticking ]

Susie, are you really going
to Africa?

Yes.
I think so.

I wish you weren't,
not just now.

Well, why?

You should come.

Might do you some good

to do something for someone
other than yourself.

You've become
so boringly priggish.

I'm beginning to wonder

if you haven't done something
really bad

and you're being
holier-than-thou

to make up for it.

Actually,
forget about the table.

I want this.

Oh, excusez-moi.
I intrude.

Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Poirot.
Do come in.

Oh, there's something in here.

It looks like
Uncle Richard's will.

"This is the last will and
testament of Richard Abernethie

whereby I revoke
all former wills made by me.

I-I devise and bequeath

all the residue of my real
and personal estate

and any property
I have power to dispose of to...

George Abernethie
to administer as he wishes."

This can't be right!

What--
This is highly irregular.

Where did you find this,
Rosamund?

But we really need the money!

I question the legality
of these whole proceedings!

Maude, I must telephone
our own solicitor at once!

[ Door closes ]

[ Footsteps approaching ]

George... l know this is
what Richard intended.

Who would want to
disinherit you?

Just about anyone in the family,
I should think.

Well, whoever it was
must have murdered Richard.

I can't believe it.

And you think having the money

is going to make up
for what you've done?

No.
Of course not.

I didn't say that.

I just wish
I could make you understand.

I understand perfectly, Mother.

George, you're my son.

You're all I've got.

You want me to say that it's all
all right, that I forgive you?

Well, I don't.
I'll never forgive you.

POIROT: Because no one ever sees
themselves as they really are

or as they appear to others.

Whenever one sees oneself
in a glass,

it is always as an image
that is reversed.

[ Bell chimes,
telephone clicks]

Uh, Mr. Entwhistle, please.

[Bell chimes]

Gilbert?

Ah. Helen.

What is it?

I'm sorry if I woke you, but
you're the only one I can trust.

Look, I've been thinking
for a while now

that there was something wrong
on the day of the funeral.

And I've remembered what it was,
but it doesn't make any sense.

It was something
about the way--

Helen?

Helen, are you there?

Hello?
Are you all right?

Helen?

Helen!

How bad is it?

It looks like
a severe concussion.

I'd like to be with her,
if that's all right.

Of course.

Helen.

Gilbert.

Signore Gallaccio.

I have a commission for you.

She'll be all right in a day
or two if it's a concussion,

won't she?

I hope so.

Lanscombe, do you know
where the wax flowers are?

They were on
the green malachite table.

Mme. Helen Abernethie broke
the cover of glass by accident.

They've been, uh, put in
a cupboard under the staircase

with the things
that need mending.

SUSANNAH: How you can be
thinking about wax flowers

when Aunt Helen has been
carted off to hospital?

I'm sorry about Aunt Helen,
of course,

but we have meetings
about the play next week.

I shouldn't be surprised if
that Gallaccio chap took them.

He got a taxi from here
in the middle of the night.

Well, he is coming back,
isn't he?

Come with me, Michael.

I'm not going
into any dark corners by myself

after what happened
to Aunt Helen.

What do you mean, Rosamund?

Well, she was coshed,
wasn't she?

I thought she fell and hit
her head on the doorstep.

Oh, don't be naive.

Somebody coshed her.

SUSANNAH: Oh!

George, is she all right?

ROSAMUND:
It's obvious.

A detective in the house
looking for clues,

Uncle Richard poisoned,
Aunt Cora killed with a hatchet,

Miss Gilchrist sent
poisoned wedding cake,

a faked will,

and now Aunt Helen struck down
with a blunt instrument.

George.

Whoever faked the will
must have coshed Aunt Helen.

You can't think anyone
of the family faked the will

and hit Helen on the head?

There was no one else here.

You should be doing that,
Poirot.

You're the detective.
Find out who faked the will.

- For God's sake!
- [ Dishes clatter]

It was me.
I faked the will.

I faked the will
to disinherit myself.

All right, everyone?

[Birds chirping]

Merci.

So...

...how is she?

She hasn't come 'round yet.

They sent me away.

So it was you
who forged the will.

You feel better now that
your conscience, it is clear?

You don't understand.

I killed him.

It's not true.

She loved my father.
She would never have done that.

George, we fell in love.

- Don't blame her.
- I don't believe you!

Leo is my father!

Look, I don't have much time.

This is my last will.

And you are my son, George.

I want you to take over
everything.

I am not your son.

You're not my father.

You're not my father!

I didn't want to hear
what he was telling me.

He was tearing my life
to pieces,

and he didn't seem to realize.

I could see he was sick.

I couldn't stop shouting at him
that it wasn't true,

that he wasn't my father.

Then I had the idea
of substituting the will.

It was a stupid thing to do,
I know.

I wanted to spite him.

My whole life is a lie, you see.

But the real will
was burning a hole in my pocket.

I had to get rid of it.

ENTWHISTLE:
George.

GEORGE:
I killed him, Poirot.

I'm sure of it.

No, monsieur.

It was not an argument that
killed M. Richard Abernethie.

[Vehicle approaching ]

If you please to excuse me.

[ Engine turns off]

I'm here to question
Susannah Henderson.

She was at the King's Arms Hotel

on the day
of Cora Gallaccio's murder,

but she didn't bother
to inform us.

It looks as if it wasn't the
casual crime we thought it was.

No, Inspector, it was not
a crime that was casual.

It was an attack
that was most brutal.

And I know how
and why it was executed.

But I would ask you
to hold off your questioning

for a short while.

I'm awaiting
a concrete piece of evidence,

the final piece of the puzzle.

What kind of evidence?

I cannot say at the moment.
I may be wrong.

Doesn't often happen to you.

It has happened twice
in my career.

Ah.
That's a relief.

To be right all the time
might get a little monotonous.

I do not find it so.

Oh, we had a rather curious
piece of information

from the Mother Superior
of the convent in the next town.

She claims two of her nuns
went to Mrs. Gallaccio's cottage

the day before the murder.

They couldn't make anyone hear
when they knocked,

but they're convinced
someone was inside.

The day before?

They are sure?

Oh, there's no mistaking
the day.

It's all entered
in the convent book.

Mm. It fits.
It fits very well.

Nuns?

That's a ridiculous idea,
Poirot.

- No, Inspector.
- [ Vehicle approaching ]

My ideas are never ridiculous.

Enfin.

All of the pieces of the puzzle
are in place.

[Bell chiming]

M. Shane, I would like to speak
with you for a moment.

Mr. Poirot,
Michael didn't kill Aunt Cora.

He couldn't have.

But he won't be able to tell you
he has an alibi

because on the day
after the funeral,

he was with his mistress.

Rosamund, I--

There's no point in lying,
Michael.

Would you prefer
to be accused of murder?

And you, madame?

On the morning of the murder,
you were seen in Camden Town.

[ Exhales sharply]

[Voice breaking]
You know?

Oui.

[ Sobs]

Madame?

I wasn't sure, you see.

I'm an actress.

The thought of getting fat
and losing my looks...

Someone gave me a name and
address, but when I got there...

[ Sobs]

...it was so sordid.

I couldn't go through with it.

I realized I wanted the baby.

A baby?

And the visit to the nuns?

I felt ashamed.

I wanted someone to talk to.

Rosamund...

Merci, madame.

Monsieur.

How long have you known?

A while.

That's why you didn't tell me
about the baby?

[ Sobs]

Rosamund, I swear--

It meant nothing.

It's you I love.

I won't see her again.

There's going to have to be
big changes, Michael.

Messieurs, dames.

I came here to Enderby

to investigate a murder
and to solve a riddle.

First... Richard Abernethie,
he dies suddenly, huh?

And then at his funeral,
his sister, Cora Gallaccio,

announces that he has been
murdered.

But then, the very next day,

she herself is killed
most brutally.

Her maid-- Pardon.

Her companion, Mlle. Gilchrist,
is poisoned with the arsenic.

Mme. Helen Abernethie
is struck on the head

and is rendered unconscious.

The deeds of the house
go missing,

and the will that is false...
is read.

So now, which, if any,
of these events are linked?

Bien s0r, whoever stole
the deeds of the house

would have to have been absent
from the funeral.

You, M. Timothy--
You have the great need of money

and knew
that you would not receive any

from the will of your brother.

So you hatched a plan
that on the day of the funeral,

you would break into the offices
of M. Entwhistle

and steal the deeds of Enderby.

Oh, that--
that's a preposterous idea!

No, no, no. No, monsieur.
Your wife, she covered for you.

Maude, I know you want to
get back to Timothy.

I'll whiz through things
as quickly as I can.

Please don't rush things
on my account, Mr. Entwhistle.

So realizing that you had,
as you say,

shot yourself in the foot,

you decided to try to put right
your mistake.

That's ridiculous.
[Chuckles] I'm an invalid!

Are you, monsieur?

[ Breathing heavily]

POIROT: For certainement,
when I talked with you,

you claimed to have had
an attack of asthma.

It's a lot of nonsense.

I think he's called your bluff,
Timothy.

No, no, monsieur.

You were desperate enough
for money to stoop to theft.

The question remains--

Were you desperate enough
to stoop to murder?

You, Mlle. Henderson.

You said that you had never been
before to Lytchett St. Mary.

But when you spoke
to M. Entwhistle

of the whereabouts
of your hotel,

it was clear that you knew
exactly where it was located.

Yes.
It's easy to miss.

But you can see the church--

Inspector Morton is here
to question you

as to why you were in
Lytchett St. Mary

on the morning
that your aunt was murdered

and why you did not inform
the police.

The morning after the funeral,

George rang to say he was going
down to see Aunt Cora,

to ask about what she'd said
at the funeral.

He doesn't have a car.
I offered to drive.

And did you see her?

No.
We didn't get to Aunt Cora.

[Voice breaking]
We went to the hotel.

It wasn't planned.

But I can't forgive myself.

If we'd gone to the cottage,

we might have saved
Aunt Cora's life.

And we're cousins!

It's all wrong.

I love him.

So the two of you
were in Lytchett St. Mary,

and nobody saw you leave.

So now I turn my attention
to motive.

Because it is the psychology
of human behavior

which interests me.

Each and every one of you
would have killed Cora Gallaccio

to stop her revealing your
murder of Richard Abernethie.

But are these two deaths
inextricably linked?

Certainement,

Richard Abernethie,
he dies most suddenly.

But there would have been no
reason to suspect the foul play

had it not been for those words

uttered by his sister,
Cora Gallaccio, at the funeral.

But because of those words,

you all believed
that murder had taken place.

And so I ask myself a question

that came into my mind,
you know, so suddenly.

How well did each of you know
Cora Gallaccio?

H-How do you mean?

The answer, mes amis?

Not well at all.

And so I ask myself
another question.

Suppose it was not
Cora Gallaccio

who attended the funeral
that day.

So Aunt Cora wasn't Aunt Cora?

- Somebody else was murdered?
- POIROT: No, no, no.

No. Madame, it was
Cora Gallaccio who was murdered.

But perhaps it was not
Cora Gallaccio

who attended the funeral
of Richard Abernethie.

No.

The woman who attended
the funeral that day,

she came for one purpose only--
to exploit the fact

that Richard Abernethie had died
most suddenly

and to implant into the minds
of the relatives

the thought
that he had been murdered.

And this she managed to do
most successfully.

What nonsense.

I mean,
what was the point of it?

Permit me to explain.

If Cora Gallaccio announces that
her brother has been murdered

and then she herself is killed
the very next day,

then those two deaths
are bound to be considered

cause and effect.

And for Hercule Poirot,

the prime suspect would be
one of the family.

But... if Cora Gallaccio
is killed

and her cottage is broken into

and Hercule Poirot is not
convinced by this burglary,

then where is he to look?

Close at home.

At the woman who shared a house
with her.

You're not suggesting
I'd commit murder

for an amethyst necklace
and a few sketches?

Oh, no. No, no.
Mademoiselle, no.

For something
much more important than that.

One of the sketches
of Cora Gallaccio

was of Polflexan Bay.

It was Susannah Henderson

who observed that it must have
been copied from a postcard

because it showed that
the old pier was still in place.

But, in fact, the old pier had
burnt down several years before.

Mme. Gallaccio always painted
from the real life.

You told that to us,
Mlle. Gilchrist.

And then I remembered the smell
of the oil paint

as soon as I arrived
at the cottage.

You can paint, can you not?

And you know a great deal
about painting

because your father,
he was an artist, n'est-ce pas?

And then Richard Abernethie,
he dies suddenly,

and the plan,
it sprang into your mind.

How easy for you
to administer a sedative

in her morning cup of tea

to render her unconscious
for the day of the funeral

while you play her part
at Enderby.

Oh, and you knew Enderby well

from hearing
Cora Gallaccio speak of it.

So simple, then, to begin
with a remark to M. Lanscombe,

well, to convince him
of your identity.

Dear, dear Lanscombe.

Do you remember
when you used to bring meringues

out to the tree house for us?

But that's preposterous.

Nobody would have been fooled
for a moment.

But nobody had seen Cora
Gallaccio for over 20 years.

You wore her clothes.

You padded yourself out
to show her gain in weight.

No one would have suspected that
you were not Cora Gallaccio.

And because Cora Gallaccio
always wore

the hair that was false,
it was easy for you.

But mannerisms are remembered.

And Cora Gallaccio
had mannerisms

that were most definite.

All of which you practiced most
carefully in front of a mirror.

And that was where you made
your first mistake.

You forgot that an image in
a mirror, it is always reversed.

So when you observed your
reproduction-- oh, parfait--

of the birdlike tilt
of the head of Cora Gallaccio,

you forgot
it was the wrong way around.

And it was this that puzzled
Mme. Helen Abernethie

at the moment that you made
your insinuation.

She could not quite
put her finger on what it was.

But then with all the talk
about mirror images

and how one sees oneself
as others see us...

...she remembered.

So she tiptoed downstairs
to make a telephone call.

[ Bell chimes,
telephone clicks]

But someone else was about.

And they followed her down
to listen in.

And, fearful of what revelations
she was about to make,

struck her over the head
with a--

I never did anything
of the sort.

The whole thing is a wicked,
wicked lie.

It was you that day.

When we arrived, I vaguely felt
I'd seen you before.

But, of course,
one never really looks at--

No.

One doesn't bother to look at
a mere companion help.

A domestic drudge.

But go on, Mr. Poirot.

Go on with this fantastic piece
of nonsense.

Merci, mademoiselle.

I intend to.

And then, to cover yourself
still further,

you planted a letter,

from Richard Abernethie
to his sister--

of course, in a place

where somebody would be bound
to find it.

And in this letter,
there was a phrase,

oh, so cryptic,

telling her that he had not long
to live.

And then you actually poison
yourself with arsenic--

badly but not fatally.

Mademoiselle, you know, that is
a device that is also very old.

It aroused my suspicions
but immediately.

And what about the picture
of Polflexan?

Ah.

I commissioned the valuer
of painting Signore Gallaccio

to go to the cottage,
remove the painting,

and take it
to the London Academy of art.

If you please, signore.

If you please to observe.

Voilà.

A Rembrandt.

MAUDE:
[ Gasps ]

Authenticated by two experts.

I recognized it immediately.

She didn't.

Always going on about
how much she knew about art

and unable to recognize
a Rembrandt

when it was under her nose.

She was a thoroughly stupid
woman.

Endlessly wittering on
about this place

and what you all did
as children.

You don't know
how truly stultifying it is

to listen to someone talking
about the same things

day after day
and pretending to be interested.

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Gallaccio,"
and, "Really, Mrs. Gallaccio?"

And in truth just bored,
bored, bored.

And nothing to look forward to
but more of the same.

And then...

...a Rembrandt.

A Rembrandt had sold in London
a few weeks before

for £5,000.

You killed her
in that brutal way for £5,000?

Mademoiselle, you mistake.

£5,000 would have bought
and equipped a tea shop.

You understand.

It was the only chance
I'd ever get.

I had to have a capital sum.

A chance to re-create
The Willow Tree.

My own little place.

Freedom.

Independence.

A servant to no one.

[ Door opens]

Perhaps you'd like to come along
with me, Miss Gilchrist.

Of course.
I don't want to be any trouble.

If I can't have
my little tea shop,

nothing much else matters.

[As Cora ]
How very silly of me.

I-I always do the wrong thing.

Oh, please forgive me.

It was really very stupid.

I'm sorry.

I-I'm so sorry.

But, uh...

Extraordinary.

How did you work it out?

What made you suspect her?

It-- It was the flowers of wax.

Mademoiselle, you remember
when you and your sister

were arguing on the evening
that everyone arrived here?

Mlle. Gilchrist remarked
how artistic

the flowers of wax looked
on the table made of malachite.

Well...

Well, she could not have seen
them there because...

Mme. Helen Abernethie had
removed them before she arrived.

So the only time she could have
seen them was when she was here,

masquerading as Cora Gallaccio.

How clever of you.

Will she hang?

POIROT:
I cannot tell, mademoiselle.

It may be that she will be
admitted to an institution.

It is for the courts to decide.

[Engine idling]

I feel I should go.

Give it a try at least.

I think it's probably
for the best.

MAN:
Goodbye, sir.

How long will you stay away for?

Um...

I don't know.

Goodbye, Gilbert.

- I'll see you soon.
- Yes.

Merci, madame.

And thank you
for your hospitality.

Thank you, Mr. Poirot,
for everything.

Madame.

MAN:
Good morning, sir.

Merci.

Ah.
Goodbye, my dear.

Don't stay away too long.

SUSANNAH:
Goodbye, Helen.

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