Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 9, Episode 2 - Sad Cypress - full transcript

PROSECUTOR:
Gentlemen of the jury,

we have presented
copious, clear evidence

that Elinor Carlisle,
who stands before you,

is a vicious multiple murderess

and one who shows not the slightest feeling of
remorse.

ELIONOR:
No remorse. That's right.

I feel nothing.

Why should I?

When you have wanted
someone dead, longed for it,

planned it,

and watched till you see
the last flicker of life



in the eyes...

We ask you now to contemplate the full horror

of the second
cold-blooded murder,

wickedly planned and executed

on a hot afternoon
at Hunterbury.

The deadly salmon paste,
so thickly spread...

He is trying to see
just exactly why I did it,

what I felt.

All of it seems
so inevitable now,

as if it began
years and years ago.

And yet
it was only last summer.

The beginning.

The beginning seemed happy.

RODDY: Your roses all right?



They're lovely.

Good.

I try to be
a respectable fiance.

And you are.

Soon, even these extended
lunch hours will be respectable.

So...

if I go to France
for two weeks...

you could meet me
in the Touquet.

And Mama will be there
by then, all very respectable,

and we'll be back
for the Astors' autumn ball.

How about it?

Elinor?

Oh, it sounds perfect.

There's something else
on your mind today, isn't there?

Oh, Roddy, you know me so well.

Yes.

Something arrived this morning.

It's stupid, but I can't
get it out of my mind.

I'm intrigued.

Is it a bill?

After all,
it's the height of summer,

when the fairies dance

and all the nasty bills
come tripping along.

No.

But I want to show it to you.

"To warn you.

Someone's sucking up
to your aunt in Hunterbury

so you and your fiancé
get cut out of the will.

The person may seem
white as snow

but wants to cheat you both,
and the old lady...

the old lady will die
of another stroke any day."

God.

It can't be true.

It's just someone
out to cause trouble.

Yes.

I'm sure you're right.

It was quite a shock, though.

We haven't been down there
this month.

We should go.

Because of this?

No. Not... Not just this.

You care for her. So do I.
But the house matters.

Think of the summers
we spent there as children.

She always said she wanted
one of us to have it,

which means both of us
now we're engaged.

So what in heaven's name
is wrong with making sure?

Oh, Roddy, I'd love to go down.

Then it's settled.

Roddy, I decided to bring
the letter after all.

I want to show it to Dr. Lord.

Oh.

Are you sure that's wise?

Yes. If anyone knows
who sent it, he would.

But, darling, it's so poisonous.

Oh, well.

If you must.

I still say you should burn it.

You know what I'd like?

Sometime when we're married, living here together,

we'll send all the servants away

and do just exactly
what we want.

Oh, yes?
And what about your meals?

We'll eat with our fingers
by the fire.

We won't allow anyone
to disturb us.

Just you and me
and the wind in the trees.

Where's Mrs. Bishop?

Around here somewhere.
The hall is always so dark.

Oh. Good Lord.

I never did
get used to this lift.

It's such a shame
she doesn't use it now.

No, she doesn't even come out
of her room anymore.

Miss Carlisle, Mr. Winter.
I'm so sorry.

The nurses are coping well,

though the last stroke
did take your aunt so badly.

And look...
here's another great help,

just back from her studies
in Germany.

You must both remember Mary,
the gardener's daughter.

Hello, Elinor, Roddy.

Hello. Mary.

Well, it's been awhile.

Hello, Miss Carlisle,
Mr. Winter.

How good to see you.

Well, she's not so bad today,
but she may be asleep now.

Would you like to go in?

Yes, I think so.

Would you excuse us, please?

Thank you, Nurse Hopkins.

HOPKINS: Would you like some tea?

Oh, no, thank you.
I don't drink tea.

Mr. Winter?

Oh, yes, please.

Elinor!

Aunt Laura.

I thought you were sleeping.

Oh, no. Lying here
like a captive, as usual.

"Come away, death,

and in sad cypress,
let me be laid."

Morbid as ever.

It gets me through.

Roddy. How lovely.

You know, I am so pleased
you are engaged.

And I know your parents
would have been, too.

About time, I thought.

It's wonderful to see you,
Aunt Laura. You look fine.

No, I don't.

Roddy, I'm quite sure
you need some refreshment,

and I want to have a little talk with your bride-to-be.

Fine.
I'll look in on you later.

Don't go putting her off me,
or I'll make a point

of moving in here and wailing from your battlements.

WELMAN: [ Chuckles ]

Did you see Mary?

Yes. I was astonished.

When did she get back?

Oh, a few weeks ago.

I'm sure I told you.

Isn't she b-beautiful?

I am so glad she has
come back from Germany, Elinor.

She has been very g-good to me.

And I'm so p-pleased
you and Roddy are together.

You do care for him?

Of course I do.

Enough and not too much.

What?

Oh, it's just something...
we used to say.

How you should never care
too much for a man.

Aunt Laura,
tell me something... honestly.

Do you think love...
is ever a happy thing?

Oh, Elinor.

Perhaps it always brings
more sorrow than joy.

But who could do without it?

Anyone who has never
really loved hasn't lived.

And now Miss Carlisle
is here with her fiancé.

Miss Carlisle is still in
with her now.

O'BRIEN: Miss Carlisle
the niece? Is that right?

Hmm. Never was that sure
about her, to be honest.

No?

Tries too hard.

They're calling them "kissing cousins" in the Tattler.

She's lucky to have caught him, and she knows it.

Behind the eyes,
she's nervous as a kitten.

I remember
I was dripping with sweat.

I could hardly hold on.

MARY: But you did. You got
right to the top, didn't you?

I think
you must have lost your grip.

I couldn't help him.

My hands were slipping
with the perspiration.

And then you fell
at my feet, laughing.

Oh, hello, Elinor.

We were just remembering
the old times.

Of course.
We'll have lots to talk about.

There's tea in the dining room.

WELMAN: Now, look here, doctor,
I've said this before.

In any civilized country,

I'd just say
I wanted to end it all

and you would finish me off
with some nice, painless drug.

Well, I'm not sure
I wish to be hanged just yet.

Now, you're doing so well.

Leave me all your money,
I might reconsider, if you like.

Bah, humbug.

And who were you looking at?

Um, your niece.

Elinor?

Oh, that reminds me.

She wants to see you
before you go.

So...

what do you think of her, eh?

She's, um...

She's... She's very impressive.

Yes. Very impressive.

Yes, she is.

You know, you ought to
get married, doctor.

I'm sorry... I just
couldn't think of anyone else

to take into our confidence.

No, no, no, no. I'm flattered.

But you're right.
This is a horrible thing.

I suppose it must be someone
in the village.

But who could the letter
be referring to?

Who has access to our aunt
other than the nurses?

Well, Ted Horlick, the gardener, is up there.

He helps carry the oxygen.

Mrs. Bishop goes in,
the vicar, myself.

Mary Gerrard is there a lot,
of course.

Nurse O'Brien lives in,
and now, of course,

Nurse Hopkins comes in
every day, too.

I suppose
Mary is the newest here.

Could somebody
be jealous of her?

Does she have a suitor?

I don't think so.

Though Ted Horlick always
did have a soft spot for her.

It's probably
nothing to do with her.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Somehow, a thing like this
just plays on your nerves.

Just the idea of someone spying
and trying to cause bad feeling.

Yes, probably best forgotten.

You have been kind,

but it's idiotic for me
to ask you to play detective.

Shall we just burn it?

DR. LORD: No, no, no.

Nobody need play detective.
I know a real one.

His name is Poirot.

He's staying here a few days
preparing evidence for a trial.

He's horribly bored
and, I'm sure,

would leap at the chance
of some diversion.

He has some peculiarities,
like his endless herbal teas.

He's charming
and very, very discreet.

Mon ami.

A doctor who bears a message
is always a sight most worrying.

I hope you have not heard
from one of my physicians.

Of course not, Poirot.
How are you?

You settling in all right now?
Is it any more comfortable?

Well, for some, maybe.

As for me,
I have my work, of course,

but what pleasure is there for me

in the evidence of a case
that's over one year since?

No. I am, as you say,
bored to the tears.

Well, perhaps I can help you.

See, a lady
whom I admire a good deal

has come to me with a problem...
an anonymous letter.

Ah! You mean there may be
a little exercise at last?

Well, don't get too excited.
I'm sure it's trivial.

Ah. Now, there's Ted Horlick
with Mary Gerrard.

She is a great favorite
at Hunterbury House.

You see, this letter
is about that household.

It's a grand film.
It's Garbo. It's set in Paris.

I'm sorry, Ted.
I've already said no.

You've set your eyes
on someone else, is that it?

MARY: No, of course not.

Bon. Enter, if you please.

Thank you.

The writer of this
has been very careful.

That interests you?

Mais oui.

Look at the pressure
on the page.

Now regard the words.

There is malice here.

What is just as concerning...
the pretense of malice.

I do not believe for one moment
that the writer of this letter

wishes to protect the interests of Elinor Carlisle.

Unless, of course,

Elinor Carlisle
wrote this herself.

That's a strange suggestion, Poirot.

I could see how upset she was.

Strange to you, perhaps,
mon ami,

but once I found your strategy with
your pawns most strange,

and then
you very nearly put me in check.

That was a long time ago.

To say the truth,
when you came here,

I thought this letter
would be a thing just trivial.

And yet the care of its construction,

something of the words and of the design

tells to me
that is not the case.

Of course, as you say,
it may lead to nothing.

So why, hein?

Why do I sense
the outlook may be dark?

Miss Carlisle.

ELINOR: Mrs. Bishop.

Have you seen Mr. Winter?

No, but I don't think
he's upstairs.

The garden, maybe?

Oh, yes, of course. Thank you.

O'BRIEN: Ah, he's nice enough,
Mary, dear,

but I'm sure you can do better.

HOPKINS: Oh, yes.

With your education, especially.

Now, do let us see
what your aunt sent.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
I was looking for Mr. Winter.

Oh, I haven't seen him.
Have you, Mary?

No, I've just come back
from the post office.

This is from my Aunt Mary
in New Zealand,

my mother's sister.

I was named after her,
so she always sends me things.

That is kind.

Yes.

She emigrated before I was born,

and now she's the only family
I have left..

What a lovely thing.

Oh.

Yes, it is.

I'm sorry to interrupt you.

You should show it
to Mrs. Welman.

You know,
she's been so kind to me.

Only today she was saying that
she might help me in the future,

just like she did
with my schooling.

Well, I suppose
I'll look in on Aunt Laura

before I go to bed.

Of course.

I'll sit here a little,

and I could always come
and tuck you in.

Perhaps not tonight. Mrs. Bishop
may be doing her rounds.

There's time enough.

All right.
I'll let you rest tonight.

So... how did you like
meeting Mary again?

What?

Oh, yes,
she's... she's a sweet girl.

Night-night.

What are you doing?

Elinor.

I was just making her
more comfortable.

Oh, yes, of course.

Good night.

Do come this way.
I'll get you a drink.

Elinor Carlisle,
this is Hercule Poirot.

M. Poirot.

Mlle. Carlisle.

This is my fiancé...
Mr. Winter.

- M. Winter.
- How do you do?

We are so grateful to you
for coming.

Please. Not at all. It is
most kind of you to invite me.

We are honored.

The Cartwright trial
is causing great excitement.

Indeed.

For me, alas, it is like eating
the same meal three times a day.

Excuse me.

Of course.

M. Poirot, this is Mary Gerrard,

whose late father
looked after the garden here.

She's just returned from Europe.

Mlle. Gerrard.

I'm very glad to meet you,
M. Poirot.

Canapé, madame?

Oh. I'll take the salmon,
thank you.

Mlle. Gerrard,
may I ask where in Europe?

Germany. I was staying
with a family near Freiburg.

Ah, the Black Forest.
It's beautiful country.

I think the National Socialists

are doing quite a fair job
over there.

I sometimes wish we had politicians like that here.

I think, monsieur, that you are
most fortunate you do not.

Do you?

Oh, it's much too pleasant
an occasion for European politics.

- Roddy, can I have a word?
- Excuse me.

Mademoiselle.

So, M. Poirot...

do you think my letter
is important?

I cannot yet give to you
an answer, Mlle. Carlisle,

but, naturally, I take everything to be important

until it proves otherwise...

even the strategies of chess
of my friend Dr. Lord.

Does he ever win?

No. But one time,
he came quite close.

No, no, no, he has a mind
truly wonderful for the game.

That is my aunt, M. Poirot.

She's too ill to join us, I'm afraid.

I realize it is much too soon

to say who may have written the letter,

but I know Dr. Lord has told
you about our household,

so do you have any suspicions
about who it refers to...

this... interloper?

There is no need
for me to suspect, mademoiselle.

The writer
has made it quite obvious.

How?

Alors, the phrase "white as snow"...
It is most odd, yes?

But certainly
it is used deliberately.

So tell to me, mademoiselle,

who was it
that had the little lamb

whose fleece
was white as snow?

Mary.

Oui.

Nurse!

Help me!

Mrs. Welman, are you all right?

Oh, dear. You're not yourself.

Now, don't you get agitated.

You've had another turn.
I'll call doctor.

Please... Lewis.

In need...
to see the photograph of Lewis.

Not this again.

Oh, please. I can't open
your private things.

I must get the doctor.

Mrs. Welman, you're ill.
I must send for the doctor now.

I must.

It's all right.
It's all right.

Don't excite yourself.

You want somebody to come?

...come here... Lawyer...

Your lawyer?
You want your lawyer to come?

...provision... Mary...

Provision.

You want to change something
in your will, Aunt Laura?

...Mary.

Related to Mary? Mary Gerrard?

Yes.

I'll call the lawyers,
and Seddon should be here directly.

Please don't worry yourself about it.

That's right.
Rest now. It will be done.

May I go in?

Oh, yes, of course.

The doctor is there.

I see.

Yes.

Well, thank you.
I'll meet him here tomorrow.

Goodbye.

Seddon can't be here
until tomorrow.

Is that all right?

Yes, I think so.

She's had another stroke,

but I'm sure she has
a little time yet.

I've seen some improvement
since last night.

Have you lost something, dear?

It's that sarcoma
in the village... Eliza Riken.

I was sure I put her tube of morphine
in here for tomorrow,

but somehow, it's gone.

The only place I've put
my bag down was in the corridor.

Why don't you look again, dear?

Nobody here would take it.

No, it's gone.

Now your work is done,
I thought you'd be singing, Poirot.

Oh, I am content to return
to London, mon ami,

but I do not like
the unfinished business.

Oh, the letter?

Oui.

Well, perhaps you wanted it
to be more than it was.

I promise you,
they have other things to think about now.

Yes?

Ordinary things.

Ah.

Even so, I return this letter with reluctance,

and only because
it is not my property.

Ask them to keep it safe,
if you please.

And keep me informed
of any developments.

I'm sure there will be none.

Of course.

Bon.

There was no sense
in hanging on to it.

Even your detective
failed to get anywhere.

But, Roddy,
he asked us to keep it safe.

No doubt
to cover his own failure.

He's gone now.

We have more important things
to think about.

Thank God the doctor said
she may come out of this.

She'll be too bloomy.
She wouldn't want that.

No.

It's just seeing her like this.

I'm so tired, Roddy.

I think I'll go to bed early.

What are you going to do?

Oh, I'll let you sleep.
You look all in.

I'll just play some billiards
or something before I go up.

Elinor?

Nurse Hopkins
is happy to stay tonight

and take over
from Nurse O'Brien,

but she would like a word.

Oh, thank you, Mary.

Are you off for home now?

Well, I'd really like to stay.

Of course.

If you want to stay close by,
you can use the room at the end.

My aunt would like that.

Thank you.

Good night.

Oh, but I don't...

I don't know.

Miss Carlisle?

Miss Carlisle?

Mrs. Welman has been taken very bad.

The doctor is called.

You must come at once.

I'm coming.

I'm very sorry.

Would it have been painful?

No, no. Absolutely not.

Sometimes you have
a sudden relapse like that.

It's very quick.

And in its way, it's a mercy.

You must take all the consolation
you can from that.

I'm so sorry, Elinor.

Thank God for it, I say.

I couldn't have borne
seeing her lingering on

in the state she was in tonight.

You saw her tonight?

What?

Oh, yes, I, um...

I left the cards
and looked in briefly...

while the nurse was getting tea.

She was lying there,
breathing so hard.

I hated seeing her like that.

It's probably why I felt
so strange all evening.

I know I wasn't really myself.

No?

You should go to bed.

I won't come in and disturb you.

Not... Not tonight.

Good night, Roddy.

Extra!

Standard! Standard!

Got all the papers!

I'll have a Times,
if you please.

Certainly, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you very much.

The British library,
if you please.

Standard! Standard!

...her body to the ground.

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

In the sure and certain hope

of the resurrection
to eternal life.

Amen

- Amen.
- Amen.

You came back
just because of this?

It was quite sudden,

but I was probably unduly optimistic in my diagnosis.

Sometimes they change quickly.

She had another stroke.
It affected her very badly.

The letter... it was correct.

It said that she would die
after another stroke.

Well, yes, that's true,

but given the severity
of the first stroke,

it's hardly remarkable.

Poirot, I think
you may be overreacting.

There was no murder.

Please to be honest with me.

In your profession as a doctor,
this is your true opinion?

Yes, it is.

And I have to ask you
to honor it as a friend.

So you give to me no choice.

I don't want
to see people upset.

When will you go back?

I'm not going back.
I intend to stay a little.

And... perhaps
we can play some chess.

Well, now,
I'm nearly all done here.

What a terrible shame

they didn't offer
the village a cup of tea.

It's just not the same without it.

Maybe, but Miss Carlisle
didn't look good at all.

I doubt she had the strength.

Hmm. Strength enough to hear
the will, though, you notice.

The lawyer is down there
with her now,

and Mrs. Welman
would have made sure

there was refreshment
after a funeral.

You mark my words.

Oh, I meant to ask you, dear.

Did you find that tube
of morphine all right

when you went home?

No, I did not.

I don't understand it.

But there were some papers
and things I threw out,

so it may have been there.

Yes, that must have been it.

I wouldn't worry about it
any more if I were you, dear.

Well, time to say goodbye.

Again, I'm very sorry
for what happened,

Miss Carlisle, Mr. Winter.

I count it a great pity
she didn't summon me earlier.

Mr. Seddon,
it's perfectly obvious

she wanted to alter her will.

I mean,
that's clear to everyone.

She mentioned... Mary...
and she wanted to change it.

Miss Carlisle,
I can assure you of one thing.

You are wrong
in that assumption.

There could be no change
as such.

You see,
your aunt made no will.

What?

But that's extraordinary.

Not, I fear,

as extraordinary
as you might think, Mr. Winter.

People are often superstitious.

They think if they make a will, it means they'll die,

so they put it off.

Didn't you reason with her?

Frequently, and she said
all the usual things...

that she didn't intend to die just yet.

It's just human nature,
I'm afraid.

People will go on avoiding
a thing in their personal life

which is distasteful to them.

So the upshot is very simple.

Since your aunt died

with no bequests, no will,
no settlements or trusts,

everything,
including this house,

goes to her next of kin,

which, of course, is you...
her niece, Elinor Carlisle.

Everything?

Apart from death duties.

The estate
will still be substantial.

No, Elinor,
you should have it all.

I don't want you to think otherwise. It's your right.

But, Roddy, we said it didn't matter
who was left the money

since we were to be married...
do you remember?

Yes.

But... are we?

Well, that was the idea.

Of course,
if you've got other plans now...

Roddy, can't you be honest?

I'm sorry. I don't know
what's happened to me.

I do.

It's Mary, isn't it?

I saw you.

God, I...

Something happened
when I first arrived here,

when we were in the garden.

I don't know what.

Isn't it obvious?

Every time you look at her,
I see it in your face.

I didn't want to feel like this.

I was quite happy.

It's upset
all decent, reasonable things.

Love isn't reasonable.

You'd better take this back, Roddy.

Will she marry you?

I don't know.

Well, give it time.

Take the fortnight in France, clear your head.

If you still feel the same
after you're back,

then that's the time
to pursue it.

I didn't deserve you...
even as a friend.

Sometimes
it's all like a dream...

as if I might wake up
and find she wasn't there.

But she is there.

Damn you, Mary.

Ah, Mary. Sit down, please.

Thank you.

So, what are your plans now?

Do you intend to go away?

Not directly.
I still have to clear out

my parents' things
from the lodge house.

That'll take me a few days.

I've been putting it off
ever since I got back.

As you know, Mary,

my aunt always took
a great interest in you.

Yes, she was very kind.

You will be aware
that she made no will.

I have thought about
that last day a good deal,

and it seems to me
that if she had lived,

she would have wanted
to make several legacies.

Of course, I've made provision
for the servants,

but you don't quite
come into that class.

I'm sure she would have wanted
to make some contribution

for your future.

Therefore, I am arranging,
as soon as probate is granted,

to advance you £7,000.

That sum to be yours to do
with absolutely as you please.

Thank you.

It was quite a surprise
that she left no will,

but then, many people don't.

Yes, I only made one myself this year.

A will?

Oh, Nurse O'Brien thinks everyone should.

I have my aunt in New Zealand, so I named her.

You've been so kind.

It was my aunt's wish.

Well, that's all, I think.

Thank you.

Oh, bonjour, Mlle. Gerrard.

Are you in a hurry?

Well, I've just heard
some good news,

and I'm on my way
to meet someone.

I am very pleased for you, mademoiselle.

Mademoiselle?

Is it your intention
to remain in the village?

I'm staying here for now.

Oh, yes, yes. Of course.

Pardon. I will not
detain you further.

Mademoiselle?

Please be careful as you go.

Of course.

That's a great piece of luck
for you, Mary.

It was good of Miss Carlisle
to do the right thing.

She didn't.

Well, she didn't look
very pleased about it.

Hardly surprising
after what happened

with you and Mr. Winter,
now, is it, dear?

Nurse!
That's hardly our business.

Sorry, but the whole village
must be talking about it.

I didn't lead him on.

Ah, but has he made you
an offer?

The truth is...

he's indicated.

Well, there you are, now.

Isn't that romantic?

Excuse me.

I do hope it's all right.

You wonder if it won't
hurt her in the end.

I know, and that family
at the house

has not always
been lucky in love.

Mlle. Carlisle,
you permit that I join you?

Oh, yes, of course.

I wish to speak to you
of your anonymous letter.

I do not yet know who wrote it.

Oh, the letter.

Oui.

So much has happened,
I had quite forgotten.

I am afraid, M. Poirot,
the letter is destroyed.

It doesn't matter
who sent it now.

We'll never know anyway.

Mlle. Carlisle,

it is no matter
if the letter is destroyed.

It is in here.

And I said I did not yet know.
I did not say "never."

So please
to extend to me the courtesy

of having some confidence
in my skills.

Oh, I'm sorry, M. Poirot.

The truth is,
I'm a little distracted.

I'm sure you've heard
that my engagement has ended.

I'm sure the whole village
is talking about it.

Yes, of course.
I was very sorry to hear it.

If you permit, mademoiselle,

I extend to you
my utmost sympathy.

I can understand
the ache of the heart.

It is a place very lonely.

Thank you.

It is certainly hard

when the accident
of another person's return,

of... another person's beauty...

suddenly destroys your life.

D'accord.

But then, a man
who is swayed by such things

is not likely to be constant,
is that not so?

That is not so.

It's only her.

Nobody else could have
changed him. Nobody.

Mary has destroyed everything.

And I can't help it, M. Poirot,

but I just wish...

I wish so much...

that she was dead.

Come on, Poirot. Drink it.

You see, it troubles you also, my dear doctor,

that the glass, it is poured,
it is perfect in every way,

and yet I choose not to drink.

I wait, and this troubles you.

What are you thinking?

About action
that is uncompleted.

Action that is suspended.

Like this.

Pouring without drinking.

And yet, surely, once it is poured,
it will be drunk, eh?

But, no.

And it is the same here
for crime.

It can be like this also.

You question me
for staying here.

But sometimes,
as in the case of your letter,

I see a pattern.

L...

see a color.

I sense in my heart
the inevitability.

And yet
what can I, Poirot, do?

Nothing.

For the glass
sits on the table, waiting,

waiting for someone to drink.

Me?

The cook and the maids
have taken a week

as you asked them,

but I don't require time off.

And you shouldn't be alone
in the house.

It's not right.

Mrs. Bishop,
I just want to go quietly

through my aunt's things.

I don't need anyone, you see.

I'm almost certainly
going to sell.

The other servants wondered
if that were the case.

Naturally, we had hoped...

Yes.

I had hoped, too.

Miss Carlisle,
what can I do for you?

I wanted some sandwich paste, Mr. Turner.

Of course.

Now, what would you like?

Salmon, crab and shrimp,
ham and tongue?

In spite of the names,

I always think
they taste rather alike.

In a way.

But, of course,
they're tasty... very tasty.

I'll get salmon.

Oh, and crab and shrimp.

People used to be rather afraid

of eating fish paste,
didn't they?

There have been cases
of ptomaine poisoning.

I can assure you, Miss Carlisle,
this is an excellent brand.

I've never had
a single complaint.

Oh, of course.
I didn't mean anything.

Thank you.

We'd best hurry, Mary.

Miss Carlisle is expecting us for lunch.

All right. That's the last
of the living room cleared.

What a tangle.

Have you come across
any old gardening gloves in there, Mary?

Hold on!

Hello?

Sorry.
Did I give you a fright?

I was just getting
my other apron.

Of course.

I'm making sandwiches.

I saw Mr. Winter in the village.
Is he back again so soon?

What?

No. Roddy's not here.

He's still abroad.

Well, it certainly looked
like him.

Maybe I'm wrong.

Yes.

I'm sorry. There seem to be
rather a lot of flies around.

The salmon is for you, Mary.
It's nearest.

Thank you.

Oh, I'm sorry.
The others are crab and shrimp.

Oh. Thank you.

I meant to get some coffee,
but I quite forgot in the end.

Well, if there's tea,
I can make some.

Oh, yes.
Not for me, but please.

♪ Polly, put the kettle on ♪

Remember, we used to sing
that when we were children?

Yes, I do.

It is a pity, isn't it?

You can never go back.

Here we are.

There.

It's nice and strong.

There you are, Mary.

Thank you.

This was
very thoughtful of you,

Miss Carlisle.

It's a nuisance
to have to break off

and go into the village for lunch.

Mm.

Are you all right, Mary?

It's just the sandwich
was rather bitter.

I hope the paste was all right.

Mine was all right.

Will you have some more tea?

Are you sure you won't have
a cup, Miss Carlisle?

No, thank you.

Then I'll just go
and turn off the kettle.

I left it on in case we wanted to fill the pot up again.

Mary?

Yes?

Nothing.

Why, I thought
I saw a man outside.

Is there someone here?

No. Only Ted.

It wasn't him.

Ooh, it's quite hot in here.

Yes, it faces south.

I've tidied up the other plates.
Let me finish these.

Oh, thank you.

Did you prick yourself?

Oh, no.

Oh, it was the rose trellis.

It's quite a jungle.

I may have to ask Ted
to help us.

Are you all right,
Miss Carlisle?

You're not looking
quite the thing.

Oh, well, I...

I just want to get
all this clearing done.

Well, I'll be up
when I'm finished down here.

So, it's Nelly
and Mrs. Markinson for these,

and that poor creature
at Ivy Cottage

who's not quite all there could
have some of the night things.

This will be a godsend to them.

I think
I'll take them there myself

while Mary gets on at the lodge.

She's gone back there, has she?

Mary? No,
I left her in the library.

Well, that was ages ago.

What's she been doing?

Mary?

Why, she's fallen asleep.

Come on, my girl.

Wake up.

Mary?

Oh.

Mary!

I'll have to call Dr. Lord
this moment.

What's the matter?

The matter?

This girl is near death.

I think she's been poisoned.

You have heard?

That Elinor Carlisle
has been charged with murder? Yes.

There's something
I ought to tell you.

This way.

Ah, Poirot.
Have a look at this.

We found it yesterday,

just here where those sandwiches were made.

We can't find any more,
but it has been identified

as part of the label
for morphine.

They shared the tea,
so it must be the sandwiches.

Are you aware
that a phial of morphine

disappeared from this house?

What?

Oui. Dr. Lord here
just told me of it.

It was in the bag of the nurse.

I'm sure
the nurses will confirm it.

So, Miss Carlisle
had ample opportunity

to take it and use it.

And her motive is clear.

She was distraught that
her fiancé had abandoned her

for the deceased.

Of course,
there are some difficulties,

like the fact
they all ate the sandwiches.

It is scarcely a difficulty
if you read the statements.

Yes,
they all ate the sandwiches,

but the poison,
it only needed to be in one.

And the favorite
of Mary Gerrard,

as Elinor Carlisle herself testifies, it was the salmon.

Then that's how it was done.

Then there's
your anonymous letter, eh?

That doesn't really fit.

Why not?

Let us suppose that
Elinor Carlisle was most anxious

about the return
of Mary Gerrard,

for there is much talk
of her beauty.

And she knows that her fiancé
and Mary were close in the past

and that they were bound
to meet together here.

So Elinor Carlisle herself
writes the anonymous letter,

hoping to turn him against Mary.

She wishes him to think
that she is a girl...

out for what she can get.

But it does not work.
She loses him.

And so she is driven
to a crime far more desperate.

But how could she hope
to get away with it?

My dear doctor, I am describing a crime of passion!

Poirot.
Poirot, how could you do that?

How could you build
the case against Elinor Carlisle?

She's not a murderer.

How can you be so certain?

You saw her qualities.

Oui, and I also saw her pain.

She is not capable of it.

On the contrary,
she is more than capable.

That man in there
has no idea of the woman.

My dear doctor,

do you suppose I was advancing
the case to help him?

Given the facts that I see here,
any prosecuting counsel,

any idiot of a magistrate
will come to the conclusions

that I have just advanced like that.

And I think that it is fair
to say that you are partial.

I don't deny it.
But she didn't do this.

Please, I'm begging you,
help me find the truth.

My dear doctor,
you ask for my help,

but I do not think you
have been completely honest with me.

I still have my suspicions
about the death of Laura Welman,

and I am going to ask the police
to exhume her body.

And so I ask you again
to tell me truthfully...

what will they find?

I don't know.

But possibly morphine.

Mon dieu.
I do not understand you.

You told to me otherwise.

You made me hold back...
as a friend, you said.

Poirot, please.

I never dreamt of such a thing.

I thought
that it was probably natural,

but there was
another possibility.

I was aware that she might
have taken the drug herself.

You see,
she'd often talked of it.

I comprehend. You were playing
the merciful doctor, eh?

As I say, she talked of it.

Under such circumstances,

I didn't wish to cause a scandal
by insisting on an autopsy.

Therefore, I must insist

that you are now
completely honest with me.

You did not give her the drug
at her request?

I swear to you I didn't.

I told her myself
I have no wish to be hanged.

I wouldn't do it.

Very well.

All the same,
I wish you had told to me

you had the suspicions,
because if you are right,

it will be worse now
for Elinor Carlisle

than even I could have thought.

So, you do not wish to talk?

I made a statement.

I have nothing else to say.

Mlle. Carlisle,

you are aware of how your silence,
it will be construed?

It is no matter.

It's such a shock,
I can tell you.

Now, you'll have some tea.

Merci.

Like I told the police,
M. Poirot,

Miss Carlisle was so strange,
very strange in her manner.

I'd thought it for days,

but that afternoon,
she was downright odd,

talking as if she didn't know what she was saying

and her eyes
so bright and queer.

And you said
that she looked guilty?

Oh, yes. She was trembling before and afterwards.

It was as if
she'd been caught out.

And those sandwiches
that she made...

did they look the same?

They were not
on different bread?

No, definitely not.
White bread.

Looked very much the same.

But Mary had the salmon,
and we had the crab.

And when I think of how
poor Mary was when we found her.

Ohh.

She was one of
the most beautiful girls

I ever saw, Mr. Poirot.

And not stuck-up,
as she could have been.

The old lady had taken
a tremendous fancy to her.

Surprising, perhaps.

Oh, that depends.

Might be quite natural,
in one way.

And surely
it does an elderly person good

to have a young face about.

I see.

And there's nothing else, eh?

Nothing else at all

that you can tell to me
about Mary Gerrard?

I don't know of anything.

No, Mary was not poisoned
before she came here.

How could she have walked
from the lodge?

No.

Without doubt,
Mary was poisoned in this room.

Both she and Nurse Hopkins shared the tea, so...

It must have been
the sandwiches.

But, Poirot, somebody could
easily have entered in here

and tampered with them.

There was a figure
in the garden out there.

Perhaps it was somebody
from Mary's past.

Or what is more likely...
someone we know.

I made a statement
to the police, Mr. Poirot.

I wasn't around this side
of the house at all that day.

I was up near the road.

Did you see a figure?

No.

But I did see a car.

It was, um, parked on the road
early in the afternoon.

And did you recognize the car?

No, I don't think so.

I think it was green.

I just can't believe...
anyone would do such a thing.

And certainly not Miss Carlisle.

Tell me, M. Horlick,

you were fond of Mary,
were you not?

Everyone knows that.

Wasn't the same when...
when she came back from abroad.

But did she have any enemies?

Not that I know.

She was always a bit different,
but... people liked her.

Then after she came back,
nobody knew her so well.

And why is that?

She was just changed.

Not stuck-u p, exactly.

Just, uh...
not one of us anymore.

Straight. Straight. Straight.

Gently, gently.

This is for Mary?

"But she is in her grave,
and oh, the difference to me."

Wordsworth. I read him much.

His poem expresses, perhaps, what you feel.

Yes.

I suppose it's widely known
what I feel,

if you have to bring it up.

Pardon, please.
Do forgive me, M. Winter.

There are certain things
one should not say,

but nevertheless, a detective, he is forced to say,

to ask about the feelings
of people.

Oh.

If it helps Elinor, Poirot,
ask all you want.

Merci.

You returned home early
from France, I believe.

You were seen here
on the day of the murder.

Yes, all right, I did come back.

I didn't want Elinor to know.

You see, I'd decided
to ask Mary to marry me.

And you saw her?

No. No, I didn't.

See, she wasn't expecting me,
so I decided to wait.

I certainly wasn't going to barge into Hunterbury.

I waited here,
close to Mary's lodgings.

And, of course, Mary...
she never came.

I saw an ambulance, police cars.

People were talking.
I overheard what they said.

I couldn't face anyone,

so I took a train back into town and waited for news.

Then I learned she was dead.
I felt like...

And you do not think
Elinor did this?

No, of course not.

The fact that
they dragged Elinor into this

makes it even more tragic.

So if she escapes the gallows,

you will reconsider
your engagement?

What do you think I am?

Of course not.

It is ended.

But I want her to be all right.
She's a very decent person.

Better than...

Than you?

Is that what you were going to say?

No doubt at all, Poirot.

Several ounces of morphine
were found in her body.

It was administered
on the day she died.

You're very kind, Mr. Poirot.

I am happy
to answer your questions.

Of course,
I heard about Mrs. Welman,

and what a terrible thing, too.

And you had no suspicions
at that time?

Not the least in the world.

So, tell to me, if you please,

did anyone else enter the room of Mme.
Welman that night,

other than Mlle. Carlisle?

I never left her side,

except when Miss Carlisle came in.

She was so bold and clever, that one.

So, why would she
have wanted to do it?

For the money... that's why.

She knew quite well
if she didn't do it,

every penny
would go to Mary Gerrard,

and that's the truth.

So, Mary Gerrard was a girl
who was scheming and clever?

No.

Oh, that's a terrible thing
to say.

Mrs. Welman adored her.

She was a very sweet girl.

But not one of us.

Pardon.

She was an only child, eh?

Is it possible, perhaps,
that she could have been adopted?

What?

No. Certainly not.

I must say,
this is a lovely cake.

She made a will,
is that correct?

Awful.
Awful to think of it now.

Nurse Hopkins and I advised her
it was a good thing to do.

We thought she should
since she had expectations.

I wish we'd never mentioned it now, I do.

So the £7,000 goes to an aunt.
She has no other family here?

Just her mother's sister,
who's nursing out in New Zealand.

I've written to the old lady,

and what a terrible shock it will be, too.

So, will Miss Carlisle be hanged?

If she is found guilty.

Mrs. Welman,
whose money went to Elinor Carlisle,

was murdered by morphine.

Mary Gerrard, who came between
Elinor Carlisle and her fiancé,

was murdered by morphine.

And nobody in the world
had the slightest motive

to commit these murders
other than the accused.

No one had
the slightest opportunity

other than the accused.

And this vengeful woman,

who openly wished her victim
dead to more than one witness,

never expressed
the slightest remorse.

Gentlemen of the jury...

what is your verdict?

Guilty.

Elinor Carlisle...

you are sentenced to be taken hence to the prison

in which you were last confined

and, from there,
to a place of execution,

where you will be hanged
from the neck until dead.

And may the Lord have mercy
upon your soul.

M. Poirot?

Mademoiselle...

please be careful as you go.

Of course.

[ Gasps ]

I will admit I have not
been sleeping very well.

But last night...
finally, I sleep.

And I dream.

I dream...
I dream of the victim,

as she was at first,

on the street
outside of my hotel...

a girl so lovely,
the favorite of Mme. Welman,

a girl who is liked by everyone,
and yet she is still a mystery.

And then...

Then I wake up.

And I recall something.

What?

Oh.

It is a detail.

In fact, it is half a detail... 1/20 of a detail.

But, yes, my friend,
it worries me.

Something that the nurse Hopkins
said concerning Mary.

What about her?

Yes, what about her?
What is behind her?

You're not making sense.

And suddenly,
I see that there is something

that the good nurse Hopkins,
she does not wish me to know,

that she thinks
has no bearing on the crime.

But I believe that it may.

Surely, she would realize that.

No, my dear doctor.

Nurse Hopkins is a woman
of high intelligence,

within her limitations,

but her intellect
is hardly equal to that of mine.

She might not see it,
but Hercule Poirot... he would.

And suddenly, there raises
in my mind so many questions.

No, I was right before.

Something here is crooked.

But, Doctor, time is short.

There is something
I need from you.

It is a book.
How does it call itself?

A book which describes
the various medicines you prescribe?

A formulary?

Oui, c'est ça.
I must borrow it.

Merci.

When I visited you before,

I said it was... surprising

how Mme. Welman
favored Mary Gerrard.

You said it was only natural.

And I thought you were merely
talking about the friendship,

that it was natural.

And then
I think again of Mary,

and I hear that word again... "natural."

And I see that you used it... deliberately.

Oh, I know it.

And now you must tell to me why.

Nurse O'Brien
and I had both heard the old lady

crying out
about something in her past.

There was a man called Lewis.

But we both knew there was
much more to it than that.

And then I found this
in the lodge

after Mary had died.

It is Mme. Welman?

And the baby?

It's Mary Gerrard.

So Mary was the illegitimate
daughter of Mme. Welman.

It's a sad story,
as you'll see from the letter.

The man couldn't marry her.

He had his own family.

Sometime later, he was killed
on the western front.

The Gerrards had no children.

Mrs. Welman went to Scotland

and took Mrs. Gerrard with her,
where the baby was born.

Naturally, she paid for Mary's schooling

and told them
she would provide for her.

But she couldn't admit the truth.

She had to avoid the scandal.

But, at last,
Mary becomes clearer.

But what sadness.

"So, dear Mary,

for all these years,
I've had to keep this secret

from the girl I brought up,

and such a hardship
that has been."

Of course,
we had suspected as much.

Nurse intimated she knew.

But... what's the point
of it coming out now?

I was going to destroy these.

As I said before, Mr. Poirot,
let the dead rest in peace.

No.

Not when one
has to consider the living.

Mlle. Carlisle,
you would say nothing before,

but now I know a little more, and I want to help you.

I believe I can.

But you must answer
some questions about that day.

I beg of you.

Why? ls there any purpose?

Oh, yes, of course,
there's a purpose.

Please.

Now, just tell it to me
from the very beginning.

Firstly, why did you give
time off to the servants?

I was upset.

I wanted to be alone.

And when you made
the sandwiches,

did you see anyone outside?

No.

All right, then you went

to sort through some things
of your aunt.

Did you discover anything
that affected you

or any private matters concerning your aunt?

What?

No.

Then you took Mary and
Nurse Hopkins into the library,

where you gave to them
the sandwiches.

What was Mary doing
when you left her?

She was on the sofa.

She seemed normal.

Now...

Each detail, if you please.

I went down to the pantry.

Oui.

Nurse was there
doing the washing-up.

Mm-hmm.

She said she'd seen a man
in the garden.

I didn't see anything.

So what, then, did you talk of?

I don't know.

Oh, yes...
the rose trellis by the lodge.

She had a mark on her arm

where the thorn
had scratched her.

And then it all
came back to me... all of it.

How when we were children,

Roddy and I kept having
this quarrel

about... the War of the Roses.

He liked the white rose.

I said they weren't real,
because they didn't even smell.

I preferred red
because they were big and dark

and smelled like summer.

And I realized something.
Yes, I did.

There was no reason
to kill Mary...

because Roddy would never
have stayed with me.

When I went back...

When you went back,
Mary was dying.

You might as well ask me, then.

Did I intend
to kill Mary Gerrard?

No. No, mademoiselle.

Now, please, do forgive me.

I have very little time.

You have told to me
all that I need,

and there are some things
I still do not wish to know.

Ohh.

Ah, M. Horlick.
Enter, if you please.

I'm sorry, Mr. Poirot.

There is something
I need to say in private.

M. Horlick, you see
before you a miserable animal

who has been a triple imbecile.

I am 36 times an idiot.

Sir?

Forgive me, but I have discovered something

in a way that is most painful, hideously painful,

but very important.

Oh, pardon. Ça suffit.
No matter. Please, to sit.

And tell to me
what you wish to say.

It concerns Dr. Lord, sir.

If you do not agree,
I will go higher.

I wish you to take this matter
with the utmost seriousness.

I will do what I can, sir.

It will have to be tomorrow.

Very well.

Poirot, you realize we have

less than a day and a night.

Why did you ask me here?

Because I wanted...
to show you...

this.

The zephirine rose.

So?

Isn't that Mr. Winter?

What is going on?
What did Elinor say?

I will tell it to you.

She told me of a quarrel
a long time ago...

and how she and M. Winter
were on different sides.

And it made it very clear
to me, mon ami,

how she fell in love
a long time ago

with a man who could not
return her feeling.

And so, Doctor, I began
to see through all the lies

that have been told to me.

Who has lied to you?

Everyone.

Particularly you.

But, at last, the matter,
it is almost concluded,

for I have made a trap.

Shall we go back to the house?

I had the message from the inspector, Poirot,
but can you tell me what this is all about?

It strikes me as very unpleasant.
I never wanted to see this room again.

I'm not surprised.
What does that mean?

Gentlemen, please.

I have concluded that nothing
in this matter is what it seems.

Firstly, we have heard
that on the day of the murder,

there was seen
lurking in the garden

a man who was very tall and
who resembled you, M. Winter.

I told you, I never came here.

So would you be surprised

to learn of the will
of Mlle. Carlisle?

I established it last night that
it leaves everything to you.

I swear, I had no idea.

So perhaps you stood outside

and observed her
making the sandwiches

and thought
that they were for her.

Alors, if she died,
you would be a man very rich.

This is outrageous.

I told you,
I never came into the grounds.

However, if she was hanged...

you would be equally rich.

So, let us assume,
as did the trial,

that the murder,
it was successful.

It is easy to imagine,
you or another, being aware

that Elinor Carlisle intended
to invite Mary Gerrard here

and also to know
that the preference of Mary

was for the salmon paste.

Both of these things,
they were well-known.

Are you including me?

I include everyone.

Now, this person
has the phial of morphine,

and the chance, it comes.

And this is what he finds.

The sandwiches.

One of salmon paste,

the other two
of shrimp and crab.

Alors, our murderer
approaches the sandwiches.

At once, he observes that the color
and texture are identical.

So which one
is the salmon paste, eh?

No, there's no way on earth
he could distinguish by smell.

So what can this person do?

I am afraid that there is
only one thing he can do.

He tastes.

It was bad enough
the first time.

But then, suddenly,
I realized how stupid I had been!

Ah!

I, Hercule Poirot,
had followed my reasoning, yes,

but I had failed
to take into account

the madness
of the English palate.

For, gentlemen, what do we find?

We find that we are entering
into the realms of lunacy.

I do not care if our murderer had
the palate of a master chef.

He could never distinguish between these slurries.

It is a fact these sandwiches are
all but indistinguishable.

So I come to the conclusion.

I, Hercule Poirot, do not care
what was said at the trial.

This could never, ever be
the practical method of murder.

So Elinor Carlisle
did not poison the sandwich.

No, she did not.

Who did?

Nobody.

You say it was an accident?

No, no, no.
No, she was murdered,

but not
by these disgusting sandwiches.

I said just now that everyone had lied to me, eh?

For example, the man that
Nurse Hopkins saw outside here.

She was lying?

No, no, no.
Indeed, she was not.

And you know that, Dr. Lord,

because you are aware
of who it was.

It was you.

M. Horlick recognized your car

but did not want to say so
in front of you,

so last night, he came
to the hotel to tell it to me.

So here is yet another lie, eh?

But why?

Was it because you feared
for Elinor Carlisle?

Was it your heart
I could forgive

or something
much more sinister?

All right, all right, all right.

I would have done anything
to protect her.

I was just a fool
to think I could deceive you.

Oui. Either a fool
or something worse.

Please to remain.
I will return.

Do you believe in ghosts?

No, of course not.

I had a message to come here.

Oui.

As you know,
someone entered this room

on the last night
that Mme. Welman was alive...

And gave to her the morphine.

You told to the court you never
left the side of your patient

during that evening

except when Mlle. Carlisle
was present.

She was the accused,

so no person
could challenge you.

But it is a fact that M. Winter entered this room

when you were making the tea, and perhaps others.

Maybe I was out a few times.

That's no crime.

That is not your only lie.

When I asked you if Mary Gerrard
was adopted, you denied it.

Why did you not tell to me
the truth?

What? That?

But it has no bearing.

No bearing?

You suppose the fact
that Mary Gerrard

was the illegitimate daughter
of Mme. Welman

has no bearing on this?

Elinor Carlisle
only inherited the money

because she was the nearest
next of kin to Mme. Welman.

Now it emerges that she was not.

At that point, Mary Gerrard stood to inherit
£200,000.

Ah, so that's it.

It was another motive

for Miss Carlisle
to do away with her.

On the contrary.

It was no motive at all.

Such an action,
it would have been pointless,

since Mary Gerrard
had already made a will.

Was it you
who told her to do that?

We talked about it.

What are you saying, Mr. Poirot?

That someone
other than Elinor Carlisle

benefits from her death.

This came to me yesterday.

And then I began to think again about the
anonymous letter,

designed to breed the distrust

between Mary Gerrard
and Elinor Carlisle.

And suddenly, the light,
it began to dawn...

about, amongst other things,
New Zealand?

Excuse me.

Well, Mr. Poirot,
so long as you wanted me here,

I thought I'd make us
a cup of tea.

Oh, thank you.
You are most kind.

And now, perhaps,
you'll please tell me what this is about?

The truth is, Nurse Hopkins,

I brought you here
to talk to you about this rose.

It is a rose
on the trellis at the lodge.

You were pricked, I believe,
by its thorn?

Yes.

But, as you can
quite well regard,

the zephirine rose,
it has no thorn.

Well, then, it was a nail
from the trellis.

I thought it was a thorn.

Sharp enough, too.

Your tea.

Merci.

Quite so.

A mistake.

Tell me...

you have lived in New Zealand?

How would you discover that?

Mind you, it is known.

Is it?

The truth is, I have tried
to discover it myself,

but without any success.

Ahh.

It little matters.

But I did have
a little more success

in discovering your real name.

Your first name is Mary,
the same as Mary Gerrard.

And your surname is Reilly.

The same as her adoptive mother.

Poor Mary. She never guessed
who you really were, did she?

And that letter
that you showed me,

you never discovered it
here at the lodge.

No, it was a letter
you received.

At the time, I thought that
the wording was rather strange.

"And so, dear Mary,

I have had to keep this secret from
the girl I brought up."

So why would the writer address
her daughter directly as Mary

and then proceed to talk
about her in the third person?

Because it was not a mother
writing to her daughter at all.

No.

It was a mother
writing to her sister,

confessing the secret

of the true parentage
of her adopted daughter.

Oh, yes, it was your letter,
sent to you,

her aunt in New Zealand.

And this planted a temptation which grew.

What temptation?

The temptation
of a big inheritance,

and it was for that reason
that you came here.

You tried to stir up feelings against Mary

with your poison pen...
the anonymous letter.

You killed Mme. Welman,
knowing she had made no will.

You even tricked poor Mary
into making a will

in favor of her kind aunt
in New Zealand,

encouraged by the postcards
and presents,

which you arranged.

Oh, yes,
she was named after you.

And yet you killed her.

Later you would have released that sad letter,

ensuring that
the settlement would change

and, from a safe distance,
claim your money.

This is a strange sort
of fiction, Mr. Poirot.

But so long as you've finished your tea,
I'll wash up.

But I still worried
about the scrap of label

that they discovered here.

Most certainly
it said "morphine."

But there was one bit
that did not quite fit, eh?

The small

Why not the capital?

And eventually, I realized

that it was only part
of the name of the drug

that they discovered.

It was incomplete
and not one for morphine at all.

And I searched and searched.

And at last, I discovered a drug of great interest...

apomorphine.

An emetic.

Yes... an emetic, Mr. Poirot.

Apomorphine makes you vomit.

Swallow poison and inject that,

and you vomit quite enough
to expel the poison.

And so it was the tea.

You poisoned it.

You drank it with Mary.

And... a little while later...

Elinor Carlisle finds you

with a prick from the needle
in your arm,

standing over that basin
where you had been so sick.

And now I have to do it again.

The poison is safely washed up,

though, luckily,
I had much less than you.

Not morphine this time.

Something nastier.

But nobody will quite know
how it entered your system.

And there's no trace of it.

Oh, but, my dear lady...

...there is.

You see...

I hate,
and always have hated...

tea.

And here... is your emetic.

I removed it from your bag.

Give me that!

Come on, lads! Move it!

Come on!

Damn you!
You filthy little foreigner!

There was no way they
could have found out. None!

Poirot, come, now.
We have a car waiting.

We need to hurry.
There's no time to waste.

And Dr. Lord, also,
if you please.

I think you will be needed.

M. Winter.

This is for you.

It is from the lodge,
and it saved your life.

You have been acquitted.

[ Gasps ]

You are free to go.

But...

There is someone outside
who will explain everything,

amongst other things,
who it was who wrote to you your letter,

and it is to him
that you should give the thanks.

M. Poirot...

You know what I told you. I...

Mlle. Carlisle,
wanting a death is no crime.

Bon.

Now go.

May I take you home?

Yes.

SubRip: HighCode