Nicolas Le Floch (2008–2018): Season 6, Episode 1 - Le cadavre anglais - full transcript

"Only secrecy will guarantee
your safety."

The English Cadaver

"Only secrecy will guarantee
your safety."

Ladies, look at my instrument.

Copeau, you are too much!

The imminence of the conflict
doesn't seem to bother them.

To the contrary,

the idea of revenge
delights them.

A war against the English
is always popular.

Despite austerity, even the people

place their hopes in it.

But you,
as admiral of the fleet,

what do you think?

It will ruin the country,
and without Austrian support,

the outcome is doubtful.

I would add, the Americans
that we help

are nothing but English.


Monsieur the Marquis de Ranreuil.

Sorry, I don't dance.

I would like to examine

the flute with which
you want to run away.

- Goodbye.
- Madame...

- Let me go.
- Nicolas.

What are you doing?

Madame Cahuet de Villers
was about to leave

with a flute
that I would like to see.

- I will not permit you.
- Stop being the policeman.

No one has taken anything

I'm embarrassed.

As is my father.

I have no idea what
this is about,

but our records
tell of your exploits,

and I hope
to put an end to your intrigues.

Aimée. Admiral.

Don't I get a kiss?

There are many young men
who dream of replacing me.

I wouldn't want to
discourage them.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'll see you again soon,

either in the inn
or behind bars!

The Cardinal Dubois

visited all the watering holes

The Cardinal Dubois

visited all the water holes




I beg you.

You weren't robbed.

The King's police did well.

You smell of alcohol.

You're alive.
Someone else wasn't as lucky.

- Where?
- Over there.

- I saw some English.
- "Some English"?

- James Harris.
- The head of intelligence?

Here, at the foot of a cab.

- Sure?
- Yes.

A man of his importance
doesn't wander around at night.

Perhaps the motive
can be found over there.

The façade of the For-l'Evêque.

A dagger to the heart
and a rope next to the body.

A failed escape attempt.

With Harris
in the neighborhood, no.

Your escapee
cut through the bars,

without a trace of the very tool
that enabled him to do it.

How do you explain that,

We found nothing
or maybe someone took it.

Or the tool was given to him.

It's well known,
Monsieur de Mazicourt,

that you run
a second-rate establishment

where gamblers, pimps,
and actors are allowed.

Low-class prisoners.

The establishment is well known if
you rescind the term second-rate.

"The escape was discovered at dawn
by a watchman

"coming on duty.

"I was told, I was awakened.

"When I went out,
the police were at the site."

Can you confirm that?

That's all, yes.

There's no mention anywhere
of the identity of the prisoner.


You're testing our patience,

Why was the man being held?

There was a letter
with the royal seal

of which I was not authorized
to keep a copy.

Yet, the law requires it,
in order to advise the judge.

A letter from the king?

So it was a matter of importance.

Important enough to permit me
to bend penitentiary rules.

Who was providing for his care?

A young officer,
I'm not sure of his rank,

came to bring him
his provisions,

candles and personal affairs.

Does this button correspond
to the fuzzy memory

that you have of
this young officer's rank?

They held long consultations
of which I know nothing.

That's all I have to say.

There's no joy during festivities
this year: bad weather,

not enough laborers,

poverty is eroding the country...

no remedies in sight that are
better than the disease.

You asked for me,
Your Majesty?

I had a flute made
for my father-in-law,

the Emperor of Austria,

a confirmed music lover.

A prototype.

A flute in 3 pieces,
by Keller.

The gift was announced to him
by the embassy,

the gift was to celebrate
the signature

of the military pact
between Austria and France.

This alliance

must temper belligerent
passions from England,

with whom war
is imminent.

Because of the Americas,

where the Insurgents
defy England's power.

Do you have any idea

of the importance of this matter,


If it has a high market value,
the gift is above all

of immeasurable
symbolic importance.

The flute disappeared right here,

That's to say, no flute,
no agreement?


Truly a diplomatic disaster.

It will be a pretext for Austria
to remain neutral.

How can you be an ally

of a country unable to
protect its royal apartments?

The English are not yet
in my apartments, Sartine.

Our only hope is that
a person of dubious motives

seeks financial gain.

There's still time
to find the flute.

Do it quickly.

And remain as discrete as possible.

The flute is a real problem.

And please don't misunderstand,
I'm talking about the instrument.

As for the appendage,
everyone knows, alas, that...

that I still haven't produced
a male heir for France.

Have you tried
to make it sing,

by putting it in the mouth?

My head is exploding
like the buzz of Notre-Dame.

And your heart blames your head
for excessive drinking.

- You're not angry?
- And you?

Why am I honored
with your presence?

Problems with a flute
are troubling the king.

Oh, really?

No misunderstanding.

An instrument of major diplomatic
importance has been stolen.

Weren't you looking for a flute
under Cahuet's skirt?


Without your intervention,
I would have found it.

You know who took it.
Take it back.

From someone shielded by the queen,
who has hidden it?

I'll find it, Madame,
and you'll help me.

Me, play a police officer?
You're joking, Nicolas?

I'm not joking at all.

Are you already leaving, Nicolas?

Don't worry, Marquis,

he is not a suitor for my daughter.

In front of you

is the ensign of a ship,
Emmanuel de Rivoux,

a young officer
who ensures the liaison

between the admiralty and Minister
of the Navy, Monsieur de Sartine.

This model

is in the recent
naval riflemen units

Sartine has bestowed upon
the fleet.

He raises them like Prussians,
which guarantees

an obedience and loyalty
of stubborn barbarity

that we find in certain dogs.

The description betrays
little sympathy.

I'm just old-fashioned.

I don't appreciate those
who kill in cold blood

in the name of exact science.

In the king's name,
is it really homicide?

Is it true you came upon
an escapee

from For-l'Evêque?

News sometimes travels faster
than the facts, I see.

But it's true, a very troubling
escape, indeed.

The dead man,

held at gunpoint
for unclear reasons

and whose identity remains unknown,

seems, in flight, to have fallen

in a street where all the
street lights were out.

A dagger appears,
it stabs the man's heart,

while English extremists
abound in the streets.

And in the deceased's hand,

a button from a French navy
military tunic.

There you go, that's it.

It's important to emphasize

that the only witness to evoke
the presence of the English

and of James Harris

was found on site reeking
of alcohol.

That's enough, Pierre.

- You're being familiar.
- I wasn't drunk.


It would be nice,
before decay sets in,

to sketch
our anonymous victim,

and send it to those
who may have known him.


He painted Mrs. Bourdeau
at our wedding.

In Arranet's quarters,
I met a very curious bird.

Could you obtain information
on a certain Emmanuel de Rivoux,

ensign of a vessel,

and provide me with a report

Was this button missing
from his tunic?

No, but a button can be re-sewn,

and he could have
several jackets.

Leave nothing to chance.
He's one of Sartine's men.

The object was stolen 2 days ago
from the king's apartments.

"A piccolo flute from Keller."

It's worth its weight in gold.

Even more than that.

The French-Austrian alliance
against the English

depends on this instrument.

That's all? A flute?

Shouldn't the king take care
of his own?

He's been married 7 years.

- Pierre...
- 7 years and no child.

I had one per year
for 5 years running.

Not everyone is you.

Yet, it's not so difficult.

Let's get back to the flute.

It's in the hands of
Lady Cahuet de Villers.

She's looking to resell it.

Discretely circulate
the description of this flute

and make it be known to any fencers

that holding or reselling it
will lead to the gallows.

What need to mix little gifts
and treaties of military alliance

when the country
is on the cusp of war?

What a crazy affair!

How futile are adult affairs.

Am I right?


I've come to excuse myself.

But for what, my lady?

Last night,
my friend, the Marquis de Ranreuil,

was very indelicate.

I can't forgive him.

But as hostess,

I can only ask you
to forgive me.

No sooner said than done.

So are you angry
with this Ranreuil?

I'm over it, Madame.
This stupid story about a flute...

How dare he accuse
a friend of the queen?

Do you know that Copeau
borrowed it

as a joke
at the king's apartments?

He thought it to be a gift
to seal the alliance with Austria.

I hope that Copeau
put it back.

I think he did so.

He would be crazy to keep it.

- A little English tea?
- With pleasure.

While we still have some.

Why is your pretty face
familiar to me, Miss?

What do you want, young man?

You're very kind.

I'm just a little older,

and by calling you "young man,"
I'm still a man.

I won't forget it
if I live long enough.

I'm from the king's police force
and I'd like to ask you a favor.

"Policeman," "a favor"...

You have very strange manners.

Normally, the cops take everything
and leave nothing.

I think we're done for today.
You may go.

What kind of favor
may I do for you?

The portrait of an individual.

My good friend, Inspector Bourdeau

has a very nice portrait
that you did of his wife.

Why didn't you tell me sooner?

I could not refuse

the friend of my good friend,
Inspector Bourdeau.

We need a portrait
that's in no way flattering,

as real as possible,
so that we can

make an engraving and reproduce
multiple copies.

See you tomorrow.

Her name is La Freluche
and no one knows her origin.

Grace, innocence.

As if she came out of the blue.

The intruder was a policeman.

The Marquis de Ranreuil,
otherwise known as Nicolas le Floch.

Your little escapee was expected.

The French
killed the defector.

For sure.

The escape failed. Too bad.

If it was homicide,
it was because they knew.

And if they knew,

could it be that your cover
be exposed?

I don't think so.

The other night,
they saw only you.

In no way
should you be suspected.

Meaning what?

That whatever they know
or don't know,

it's imperative
to get rid of Nicolas Le Floch.

- Who is it?
- The police officer. He came.

He left soon after
with the painter.

And the girl?

She left.

Don't let him out of your sight.

He was stabbed in the heart,

in the shape of a cross,
with a dagger.

I know that, my friend.

Most of his bones are broken.

Your escapee died from his fall.

And yet,
they nailed him to the ground,

like a butterfly
to a cork.

The blow's force and determination

betrays a sentiment of hatred,
some fanatical rage.

There's evidence of passion.

Have you analyzed the rope?

- Not yet.
- Do it.

The resemblance is striking.

- You're a master.
- You flatter me.

How much do we owe you?

In exchange for payment,
I'll keep the charcoal sketch.

The sketches
are only sketches.

From a layman's point of view,
they are well done.

- May I?
- Of course.

Go and make copies of it.


- You can't eat paper.
- Thank you.

Beautifully combed wool.

Perhaps we could gather some
information from it.

Have it examined by an expert,
like your tailor, Vachon.

As for concerns Monsieur de Rivoux,

the sailor is a soldier,
but a man too.

He's hanging around the goddaughter
of Lalande, the clockmaker,

a certain Agnès Guinguet.

Here's a little detail
that will make you happy.

"Promoted to the rank
of ship ensign

"at the personal discretion
of the Minister,

"Antoine, Raymond, Jean, Gualbert,

"Gabriel de Sartine"...

That's enough!

That's enough! That's enough!

A war is looming up before us!

A war, a real war.
Do you hear me?

Time is of the essence
and France needs a fleet!

And you, all the while,

you quibble, you mince words.

"My escapee" here,
"my escapee" there.

"Who murdered my escapee?"

Because you mince words.

Who is my escapee,

Are you still insisting?

How am I supposed to tell you?

Return the body, the watch

and personal effects!

He didn't have a watch.


There was no escapee, Nicolas.
There wasn't one.

Tell me who it was
and the motive for the killing.

- And perhaps I would consent...
- "Perhaps I would consent"?

Tell me I'm dreaming!

Tell me life is beauty,
that I've lost my mind!

I'm going to make it very clear.

I prohibit you, I forbid you,

I don't want you to go any further!

I don't care about
your police work.

I don't care about your duty...

Your police duties
are a crock of shit.

There was no murder
at For-l'Evêque.

There never has been.

You were dreaming, I was dreaming,
we were all dreaming.

It's over.

Monsieur, Minister of the Navy,

I happen to have a fine portrait,
which will soon be all over Paris.

A father, a mother, a neighbor,

someone will remember this man
and come tell us about him.

So, I will know.

And thus, I will continue.

That seems very nice.


A great artist.

Here's what I'm doing with...

your portrait.

Show out the gentleman.

His Majesty is waiting
for the return of his flute.

- Have you forgotten?
- Not at all.

Don't bother. I know my way.


Don't you understand?

It's a terrible war
that's coming,

with processions for the dead
and oceans of suffering.

One thing prevails
in our thoughts.

The state of the nation.

Did you hear?

The rascal will not be easy
to convince.

It'd be easier to convince the sun
to rise in the West.

What we have to do
is cover our tracks,

all our tracks.

Let's hope the notion of "tracks"

does not reach the ears
of the Marquis de Ranreuil.

Madame, he calls me careless
and frivolous.

Yet, if you only knew,
we were very young

when we married,
the King and I.

We were so young,
almost children.

We knew nothing about
the court life of France.

Who can claim to know anything
about court life?

Very early, I had to recognize
the cunning and duplicity of people,

the wickedness.

At home, I was not used to
human wickedness.

I was told that I should
mistrust you, like the pest.

It's nothing but jealousy.
You entertain me.

The subject is a bit indecent,

but the engravings are exquisite.

In particular...

Does His Majesty
talk to you about the war?

No. He doesn't want
to darken my thoughts.

I know he would like to
count on my father's support.

But all of that bores me.

You're right, Your Majesty.

I have a wonderful gift for you.

A very beautiful instrument
made by Keller in Strasbourg.

A flute?

But what would I do with it?
I play the harp.

Perhaps you could pawn it.

Knowing it comes from you,

no one would hesitate to pay
a handsome price,

and you could gamble at leisure.

I can take care of everything.

Pawn it? Why not?

What do I have to lose,

since I'm told
that I'm the queen.

Lady Cahuet will deny
she has the flute, but she has it,

given she can't get rid of it.

And if the Austrian ambassador,
who is coming, learns of the theft,

we will have lost a war
that has not yet begun.

This is over my head.
Excuse me if I don't get involved.

To get back
to serious matters,

do you know that at Vachon's,
a simple coat

costs more than a worker
makes in a lifetime?

We didn't invent the world.

Is this English fabric?

Yes. But we cannot
formally conclude

that the man was English.

Problems between our 2 countries
don't hinder commerce.

Money talks first.

Given Sartine's tone of voice,

and his determination
to tear up the drawing,

I'm sure he knows
the stranger.

He also seems extremely interested

in a watch
that the dead man was wearing.


his outcry seemed to result
from real sincerity.

He asked me not to persist
in our investigation.

In the higher interests of the realm,
I presume.

I find myself almost inclined
to give in.

The Marquis de Ranreuil
is looking under the armor.

Leave Ranreuil alone.
It's a war that is coming.

The state of the Nation. Nice excuse
for the world's powers.

Commissioner, you are requested
at the prison.

Are you crazy?

- Seize him.
- Leave me alone!

You, scram. Scram, I said.

Isn't it good policy
to conclude

it was a clever suicide?

All the sketches and copies of the
deceased have been seized,

on orders of the king.

Sartine lost no time.

Such an artist...

If someone's silencing witnesses,
there's reason to fear for his life.

He'd be here, in a pool of blood.

Perhaps they didn't find him.

I have doubts.
He had a model here.

We must find the lady
to whom this note is addressed.

Is there a name?

"My friend," "my love,"
"my sweet," and signed "SFP."

On the other hand,

this button and this cameo

point in the direction
of that naval officer,

Emmanuel de Rivoux.

Come in, my friend.

Can we make another portrait
of the deceased?

Alas, no.

Decay is making him
unrecognizable now.

I understand your disappointment.

I conducted
a new examination of the body.

A callus on the right hand
intrigued me.

A callus like those on workers
practicing a trade of precision.


- Gold?
- Gold filings.

Under his fingernails
and in the folds of his skin.

Your man was a watchmaker.

Excuse the intrusion,
Your Majesty.

I wish to address
the watchmaker.

Majesty, you are not obliged
to answer.

I have the body of a watchmaker,

English perhaps,
and it concerns me.

La Borde, help
the Marquis de Ranreuil

and show him what Sartine hides

in the habitual confusion
of his eloquent silence.

Go on, la Borde. Speak.

We are seated far
from indiscrete ears.

What do you know on the topic
of longitude?

I mean... in naval terms.

With latitude,
it's essential

so that the captain can determine
his position at sea with precision.

We've know about latitude
since the Phoenicians.

But calculating longitude
is the subject of a fierce rivalry

between us and the English.

Imagine the importance
of longitude

in the context of combat,
which is imminent.

To determine longitude
with precision,

you need watches
as precise as possible,

synchronized so that each vessel

is in the right position
at the same time.

To prepare for war
is often to win the war.

That's why a talented watchmaker

is a major issue
between belligerent nations.

You've got the big picture,

As for how to deal with it,
talk to Monsieur de Sartine.

What about the damn flute?
Time is of the essence.

Making progress, Your Majesty.
Have no doubt.

The Minister charged me
to keep you out.

You're stopping me from entering?

As a purely speculative matter,

if your master ordered you
to make someone disappear,

a painter of renown,

a young woman

or the warden of a prison,

what would you do?

I'll let you judge
the relevance of the question.

Perfect answer.

We serve the same master.
No hard feelings, Ensign.

I did hear some turmoil in the wings.

I asked for a naval project
made of cardboard.

Light, flexible,


easy to repair.

In addition, less costly
when one considers the price of wood.

but to make cardboard,

you need wood.

Ah, damn... yes.

I just saw the king.

His Majesty made the Count
de la Borde aware of the secret.

Oh, damn!

Light and flexible.

I know about
the question of longitude.

And so?

Stop, Commissioner.
You've got me surrounded.

What do you want now?

The name of the escapee.

His first and last names,
why he was incarcerated.

And if you know, the motive
and the author of his murder.

You'll get nothing!

I've promised myself to maintain
the greatest calm.

And it's costing me.

Stop, de Rivoux!


You'll get nothing.

Nothing at all.

Too bad.

Perhaps Admiral Arranet
can enlighten me.

I'll have the tunics
of his officers checked

to see if this button is missing.

Most likely,
it will have been replaced.

Or maybe not.

Where did you get this from?

The cold fingers of the murdered man,
whose identity

you are concealing from me.

Look among your men, too.

Who knows, perhaps someone forgot

to report a minor detail to you.

Look on the other side of the door.

I seem to recognize his face

on this medallion
found at Lavalée's studio.

A resemblance, isn't there?

For my sake,

how can a light, flexible
cardboard boat,

withstand the recoil
of cannon fire

without sinking?

Explain, de Rivoux!

I sent for you
because I've conducted research

on the sheets used for
the escapee's rope.


It proves they were soaked
in a solution of lye

which corroded the fibers.

It was inevitable
that it would break.

Killed twice in a manner of speaking.

By the fall and by the dagger.

Someone was upset
with our apprentice spy.

Or wanted him to remain silent.

What is Nicolas doing?

Are you a gambler,

Not in the least, Your Majesty.

My God!
How bored you must be!

I need your help.

Not long ago,
a person I know

offered me an object
of great value.

An object she suggested
that I pawn,

all, you understand, under
the greatest secrecy.

Do you believe in secrets,
Monsieur de Ranreuil?

I practice it
more often than I should,

bit I hardly believe in secrets.

It's no secret that I gamble.

I play and I lose.
I'm always coming up short.

A very pathetic queen,
aren't I?

No, Your Majesty.

You're a child thrown into
this hodgepodge of deceitful beings

that we call the court.

You are still young.

It's true there's a dark spot
in your eyes,

a streak of wisdom
beyond your years.

Perhaps it is because
you are are a police officer.

Let's talk straight.

Shortly after,
I was the victim of blackmail.

It's a serious matter.

Not that serious.

I'm being asked to lend money
for fraudulent transactions

aimed at gambling on
some influence peddling.

They've even offered me a share.


They king will find out and I
don't want to be disparaging to him.

The object is a flute.

A flute from Keller, in Strasbourg?

This flute
is intended for your father

to seal a treaty
of military alliance between Austria

and the French kingdom?

My father, my husband...
I could never admit it to them.

I'm asking you to put an end
to this, Marquis,

in utmost secrecy.

Is Monsieur de Fersen
still not here?

Send for him.
I'm tired of waiting. Go now!

If you'll excuse me...

Go, Marquis.
Do your best.


Kill him!

Couldn't we,
as men of the same standing,

a sort of peace of the braves?

"Peace of the Braves"...

While war is already rumbling
in the Americas.

You're out of the shadows, Harris.

France has not lost,
England has not won,

death is still death.


What death?


Don't tell me you know nothing about
the escapee from For-l'Evêque.

One can't help but see
the work of your services.

This is news to me,
Monsieur de Sartine.

You've just handed me a jewel.

I know nothing about this crime.

Neither I, nor my services
have a hand in this.


Who talked of crime?

The advantage is yours again.

There's very little time
to finish.

What do you know
on the subject of rumors

concerning a certain flute
that was recently stolen?

Are your services
involved in this operation?

Not in that either.

But we're noting with interest
the reaction of Austria.

You said it yourself,
it's only rumors.

A malicious rumor just good enough
for gossip in our salons.

No winner, no loser.

It's a draw,
Mr. Head of the Information Bureau.

Not completely,
Mr. Keeper of Secrets.

I've just learned
that the King's commissioner,

Nicolas le Floch,
who was going to Arranet's residence,

has drowned.

When falling off his horse.

- Is he dead?
- I did what I could.

A parishioner found him
floating on his back nearby.

Leave me alone, please.

You're alive.

No thanks to you.


I forgive you.

You're alive.
Let's forget it.

What do you know about
a missing flute?

What do you know about
the escapee from For-l'Evêque?

After all...

The man was Saül François Peilly.

An English Protestant
from a Huguenot family.

He was spotted, approached and
enrolled by our services.

He was a skilled watchmaker.

We placed him with Lalande,

where longitude is being researched,

then we had him arrested.

We let him pass information

to the English services.

Which explains the presence
of James Harris.

The scoundrel!
He kept that from me.

- Kept it from you?
- Doesn't matter.

To keep nothing from you,
after his escape,

Peilly was to have been taken
by the English

to work with Harrington,
a specialist in watchmaking.

You would have had
a mole among the enemy.

And the watch
that the man was supposedly wearing?

A simple watch.

To make them believe
in the deficiency of our research.

Although quite twisted,

the conspiracy
was not without appeal.

Only, it didn't work.

And do you know why?

Because while

you endeavored
to plant your mole,

the enemy was one step ahead.

What trust do you have
in de Rivoux?

He was Peilly's desk officer,
his contact.

He didn't murder him.

The English swear
that they're not involved either.

They're after you instead.

Others were less lucky.

Mazicourt acted under your orders.

Are Lavalée and the young model dead?

The interests of the kingdom
sometimes require sacrifices.

In this matter of the watchmaker,
there's a murderer.

That's a matter for the police.

It's up to de Rivoux to find him.

He's a soldier.

I told you about the escapee.

What can you tell me
about the flute?

I promised secrecy to His Majesty.

I don't intend to waver.


I am Nicolas le Floch.

I am Agnès Guinguet,

the goddaughter of Mr.Lalande,

the court's watchmaker,
currently absent.

This is Armand Desplat,
a worker in the shop

and my godfather's associate.

I am an officer from Châtelet

and this is inspector Bourdeau.

Are you bearers
of bad news?

Why, Madame?

It's just that...

we are very worried.

Tell me.


My friend, Saül François Peilly,
works here,

but he's disappeared.

Could it be that...

this note was written by him?

Oh yes!

It's his handwriting.

Could it be to you
he is writing?

I would hope so.

Among his visitors
was there

a naval officer
by the name of Emmanuel de Rivoux?

I don't know, Commissioner.

A certain La Freluche,
who was a model?

A painter in pastels
called Lavalée?

My friend is from La Rochelle.

He hardly visits Paris.

I'm his only companion
in his moments of solitude.

May I keep this note?

No, Madame.

It's required for an inquiry
into a homicide.


Your friend is dead, Madame.

What an interesting visit.

- What did we see?
- Yes, what did we see?

Agnès was at ease in the role
of a worried lover.

For sure.

Armand Desplat was convincing
as the jealous lover.

And the man spying on us
at the street corner?

The spirited Emmanuel de Rivoux.

Handsome man.

No doubt one of the diabolical trio.

- An amorous rivalry?
- Why not?

If neither Sartine nor the English
eliminated him,

somebody had to have
killed this fellow.

But for the moment, Bourdeau,
you are in charge of a delicate task,

calling for tact and sensitivity.

This wily manner
of disguising things

does not bode well.

Le Floch is making progress.

He came to the boutique.

Big news.

Having failed to kill him,

the matter was hardly inevitable.

If the French are looking for
an assassin,

it's that he's not
among their ranks.

So who, then?

For you to find out.

What does he know about you?

No more
than what you've told him.

And the button from the tunic?

I've one missing
from a uniform,

but I'm not the only sailor.

And the medallion found at Lavalée's
in which you appear?

It's not me.

We have to eliminate le Floch.
I'll do it.

If he continues to make progress,
should we get rid of him?


Let's wait and see,
as our French friends say.

Le Floch is very capable
of leading us to the murderer.

He will lead us perhaps
to the mysterious killer.

Keep an eye on him, from a distance.

A kind of wait and see,
as our English friends say.

As for the rest, I suggest
you get rid of all traces

that may lead
to your identification.

What's the point

of this ridiculous arrest
made by your colleague?

Stay here, this concerns you.

Arresting me in front of my servants!

A little discrete word
and I would have come.

Unable to resell the flute,

La Cahuet had the intelligence
to implicate the queen.

If Her Majesty pawns the object,

it's easy to threaten her
with a scandal.

Telling the king
would mean betraying her.

- Do you understand?
- But who could?

Those who provide money
for the queen to play,

friends of La Cahuet,
who will benefit.

What can I do
that you can't?

You're a friend of La Cahuet.
Get close to her.

Find out where the flute is,
and tell me.

Inspector Bourdeau
will be your contact.

And otherwise?

A prison cell.

The salons or a prison cell,
your choice.

- Any news of Lavalée?
- No.

- And his model?
- No.

We have to find her.

She knows de Rivoux well,
and who knows who else.

The wine is drinkable.

Shouldn't you take
a few days rest?

It's not as good as
wine from Irancy.

Oh, that's good!


- Madame!
- Oh, Monsieur!


You know
all the girls in Paris,

what do you know about Freluche?

- I'll teach you a lesson!
- Calm down.

Would you please excuse us?

The Freluche girl?

The most corrupt creature
still has somewhere in her being

a trace of original innocence.

I sense a touch of sarcasm,
aimed at me.

Why would I be sarcastic?

Speaking of souls is fitting
for a brothel keeper.

The Freluche girl, that was her:
grandeur, innocence...

She never marketed her charms,

nor anything, for that matter.

La Freluche emptied
the chamber pots.

As for gallantry,
she was worthless.

Is she in trouble?

I don't know yet.

Hurry up.

You're going to pay her!

That's enough!
Get out, please.


What a pity, Nicolas,

that you haven't consented
to play the role of protector

for me personally.

The word pimp
seems more appropriate.

Protector or pimp,
what does it matter?

Because of you, I've had to settle
for this lout.

Do you know where La Freluche
is living presently?

I can only give you
her last address.

But it's a neighborhood

you shouldn't visit at night

without an armed escort.



I place...

What do you know
about lady Cahuet de Villers?

A real pain,
scheming and corrupt.

She comes to bet and lose

at the pharaoh's table.

Like tonight, in fact.

I win!

No more bets.

Madame, I would like
to talk with you privately.

Decidedly, Monsieur,
you are very persistent.

Well, I'm listening to you.

- Please.
- Let go of me or I'll make a scene.

What would you like
to ask me about?

A stolen flute. You don't seem
to realize its importance.

The flute again?

It concerns a theft and
blackmail of the queen.

The last time it was seen,

it was with your former mistress,
Mademoiselle d'Arranet.

An excellent friend
who doesn't miss you.

Speak with her.

Would you be capable

of putting your interests
before the kingdom's?

Like everyone at Versailles.

It's a matter of war.

It wouldn't be the first,
nor the last.

And like every time,
the shrewdest get rich from it.

Enough! I don't have
and never did have this flute.


You fuck my mistress,
interfere with the games.

Who do you think you are?


Simon, come here.


La Freluche, my friend.

I'm not your friend.

The little bird flew away,
without paying her rent.

And here you are, foolishly.

You've come alone, without disguise.

God help you.

- Little Mama, I knew her.
- "Little Mama"?

The one you call "La Freluche".

Little Mama took care of us,

all those
who didn't have a mother.

One day, someone came for her
and she left.

- Who came?
- I don't know.

- Do you want to harm her?
- No.

I want to find her.

I'd appreciate your help.

Strange world,

strange times.

War, poverty
mixed with frivolity.

I owe my salvation
to a bunch of coins.

What happened to you?

I realized

how frightening it is
for a circle to close in on you.

In the case of our escapee,
we have 3 suspects.

The goddaughter of fantasy,

the jealous comedian,
and the soldier on guard

and mentor of the dead man,
Emmanuel de Rivoux.

Anyone close to the victim
is suspect.

We have 3 of them in
Lalande's workshop.


I want them to feel the heat,

maniac, harassed by flies.

It means showing our presence,
tightening the noose.

Warn Rabouine.

I want that to be in place,
from tonight.

I know where Little Mama is hiding.

Do you want to eat?

I have a daughter your age.

Is there something
you'd like?

Yes, Monsieur.

To be in heaven
with my mother and my sisters.

Up there,
they have something to eat every day

and neither death, nor suffering,
nor cold can bother them.


Take me. Let's go.

If you had consulted me

about longitude,
I would have gone on endlessly,

and you too, by the way.

France's fortune
is that Harrington

is stifled by his rival,
the Reverend Maskelyne.

A watch on the one hand, calculations
of lunar distances on the other.

Nothing about that is secret
or worth killing for.

As if you need a reason
to kill someone.

At last!
A word from your mouth, Mademoiselle.

I was afraid
that you were mute.

Is it true that
you worked for Paulet?

Yes, Monsieur.

Honesty requires me to say so.

I was a slut and emptied
chamber pots

Then a woman of standing
took me under her wing

and I found work as a model.

My benefactor...

Thank you, sir. I'm going to sleep.

Where did you get that?

This is why de Rivoux
spared you.

What has become of Lavalée?

I don't know.

Please, I don't know.

You're protecting a murderer.

It's not him.
He answers to the king's orders.


He's stalking an English spy.

Armand Desplat?

My benefactor told me
that he's a vulgar lout,

an animal in heat

who is consumed by love for her
without being paid in return.

Emmanuel has suspicions about him.

He pretends to love my protector
to get closer.

Your benefactor at Lalande?

Agnès Guinguet?

She's a real lady.



He promised to marry me.

And a young watchmaker,
Saül François Peilly.

To hell...

To hell, my dear lady...

- To hell...
- Go on, Madame, have pity.

It's hell...

Have you lost your mind, Desplat?

You could have been one of them.

The beggars. And then what?

They've come little by little.

They come, they go.

They were sticking to the windows
like flies.

This police officer,
and now, the flies.

I'm lost, I'm telling you.

- What are you saying?
- I killed for you, Madame.


You did what?

I killed for you, Agnès.

You're never out of my sight.

I saw how it was
between Saül and you.

I got close to
the little Protestant.

I pretended to be his friend.

He was scared. He confided in me.

Go on.

- What did he confide?
- Everything.

His imminent arrest,
his escape, the English.

the damn sailor
prowling around you.

I helped him make a rope.

I dipped it in acid
used for engraving clocks.

I don't know what you're saying.

Come on, Agnès. You know everything.

Saül told me
that he confided in you.

Saül was a spy
and de Rivoux visited him.

But I'm more cunning than them.

Me, the watchmaker's assistant,
I'm more cunning.

One day, the sailor left his keys
in your suitor's bedroom.

It was easy to make a copy

and to steal a tunic
to get close to the victim.

You really murdered Saül?

I'm a criminal.

I stabbed him
because he'd broken my heart.

You were infatuated with a spy.

I saved you, Agnès.

I love you.

I would die 1,000 deaths for you,

but give yourself to me,
otherwise, I'm worthless.

I'll go turn myself in.


Thank you.

I hardly recognize you, my dear.

It would seem
the devil is chasing you.

The devil, indeed.

The little marquis
is all over me.

Therefore, the crime would be due
to a jealous lover?

These French and love...

Always love.

Desplat knows nothing about me.

Killing him would probably
raise eyebrows.

Of course.

Besides him, are there
any other witnesses likely...

to lead the police?


You're certain of that?

We can't take any risks,


Since I'm playing a policeman,
I went

to tell you
that I've found nothing.

But you weren't there or
at Monsieur de Noblecourt's.

Bourdeau thought about Semacgus,

your reputation, and here you are
in her wrinkled sheets.

Were you worried?

Don't deny the evidence.
Whose hair is this?

If I told you nothing happened
you wouldn't believe me.

Time is precious
and the flute is missing.

Your little flute story,
keep it for Paulet!

- I didn't cheat on you...
- Leave me alone!

You're bleeding.

You're bleeding...

A poorly closed wound
that I've had for a while.

Oh, excuse me. I thought...

What did you think?

A policeman came looking for me here.

I thought he was coming back.

- A police officer?
- Commissioner le Floch.


Last night.

- You spent the night with le Floch?
- Just slept. And then I fled.

Why you?

I don't really know.

He spoke about de Rivoux,
Desplat and you.

Would you betray me?

No, Madame. I've always
remained loyal to you,

even when it cost me to tell you
about Emmanuel.

You really love Rivoux.

And what do you know about me?

So little.

Sorry, my dear...

I'm upset to have let
Freluche get away.

That hardly seems like you.

And is it like you,
to slander a comrade?

A simple lie

and the Countess d'Arranet
would have torn my eyes out.

Excuse my intrusion, gentlemen.

But I have a strange little story
to tell you.

I don't understand much about it.

We're listening.
Please sit down.

Thank you.

You know Inspector Bourdeau.


Do you remember
Armand Desplat,

my godfather's associate?

I just learned that this man,

in love with me,
but not loved in return,

knew about my liaison with
my lover Saül François.

And de Rivoux?

Excuse me?

During our visit
to your shop,

you denied knowing de Rivoux.

Yet, it seems
he's been chasing you.

It seems to me you asked me
if he visited Saül.

I don't know.

The rest concerns my private life

and doesn't seem useful.

Pardon me. I didn't ask
the question properly.

You know de Rivoux?

Yes. In a very superficial way.

He's a client
who woos me when he drops in,

as a number of clients do.

We don't doubt, Madame.

You also denied knowing
Lavalée and La Freluche.

Very well.

I came to help the police,
but I prefer to leave.

I'm looking for the truth
and accuse you of nothing.


Only the disarray in which
your visit left me

may explain my confusing answers.

Naturally, I know Lavalée,
as does everyone.

Moreover, he's a client
of the House of Lalande.

As for La Freluche...

she's a young lady that
my affluence allows me to help.

The facts, please.

I'm certain that Armand Desplat
killed my lover.

You may leave.

Thank you.

Is that all?

And if, by vengeance or cowardliness,
he accused me of something?

My wisdom permits me
to keep things in perspective.

In the meantime, do nothing,
say nothing.

A very beautiful specimen.

Who doesn't object
to the presence of vermin

when they haunt her street.

Any good bourgeois
would have asked us to intervene.

Desplat seems to have panicked.

Of what would she be guilty?

She denounced the murderer
of her lover.


So how did things happen?

De Rivoux suspects Desplat
is an English spy,

and under cover of courting Agnès,

he ensures
that Desplat learns

of Saül François Peilly's escape.

Desplat forewarns the English
in order to retrieve the defector.

So there.
So you weren't drunk.

If Desplat is an English agent,
why kill Saül?

Well, in order to...

If Desplat is not
an English agent,

but only a rejected lover
who kills his rival,

who warns the English
about the escape?

The watch, Desplat.

Do you acknowledge a homicide

committed on the person of
Saül François Peilly?

Everything I did,
I did for love.


There were gold filings and
grease in the creases of her neck.

Lethal traces
of a small and bony hand,

almost feminine,
most determined.

I consulted
the list of accommodation.

On his arrival in Paris,

Guinguet stayed
in an establishment

where lodging was funded by
the English Embassy.

- At the Hotel Morillon?
- Exactly.

I checked,
the bitch hasn't reappeared.

- She's being watched.
- Good.

She'll come back.

She doesn't know what we know.

She's still playing her cards.

You're right, Nicolas.

Yes, but too late,
and that doesn't make it right.

I want you at Versailles
tomorrow, at dawn.

"At Versailles"?

What you're going to do,

Ranreuil could not do without
triggering a scandal at the court.

There was a spy.

But far from being part of
a grand story of espionage,

the crime was in fact a story
of jealous lovers.

A lover, a mistress,
an angry assassin.

An unremarkable police matter,

just enough to inspire
the theater.

And yet...

Is it the triviality of the affair
or something more intimate

that justifies your despondency?

I deplore the very cruel, and

undoubtedly, useless death

of an innocent.

Brutally strangled.

A certain Freluche.

What's the matter?
Stand up, Monsieur.

You were looking for an English spy.

Well, it's a woman.

Agnès Guinguet,
so-called goddaughter of Lalande

and mistress of the poor Peilly.

She strung you along,

You betrayed me, you snake!

She had no choice.
She's my witness.

She betrayed no one, knowing
nothing of the flute's whereabouts.


It belonged to the Baron's

I've the same one at the castle.

No! Oh no!

No! Not the porcelain figurine!

Despicable thug,

taking it out on art,
the foundation of civilization!

I forbid you!

You can forbid, Madame.

Nothing is off limits to me.
The statue means nothing to me.

I'm not of your world. I don't

give a damn about your foundation.

Mademoiselle, do something.

I was given the mission
of finding this flute.

Wherever it is,
I will search for it.

And if you tire of my goodwill,
we'll go to the police station

where you'll be tortured
at the stake.

Do you know what the stake is?

Yes, Monsieur.
Well, I...

I've seen engravings of it in
a work about exotic...


Very well. Then choose.

The flute or the stake.

You killed her! Why?

How could you, Agnès?

Indeed, how could I have?

I loved her.

Do you hear? I loved her.

Me, too.

The beauty told me
all about you.

You're lying.

We loved with a love that
blossomed in the flesh.

We were to marry.

You, marry, Monsieur le Myosotis?

That's too much!

Is that
all that she promised you?

It's only me.

The life of this woman
is in your hands.

Pull the trigger,

Go ahead!

- In the name of the law!
- What law?

The law of God is above
the law of man.

Doesn't the Bible say
"eye for eye, tooth for tooth"?

I loved her. I loved her!

The commissioner, too, spent
the night with the young lady.

Better inspector than musician.

- Bravo for your success.
- Thank you.

Now I'm waiting
for justice to be done.

Nothing will be done.

How so?
There's lèse-majesté.

The Countess d'Arranet
will testify.

The flute never left
the king's apartments.

The rumor circulating was false.

The Austrian ambassador
cannot use this pretext

to turn down the alliance.

Thanks to you, Bourdeau.

No, I'm not a monster.

Some were saved
by their art with the sword.

Others by art with the brush.

Master Lavalée hardly suffered
from his stay in London.

Did you, Lavalée?

Indeed. But all my canvases,

my life's work, my posterity
has been reduced to ashes.

That's enough.

I couldn't resist the urge
to have my portrait done.

Come here, Nicolas.

That's nice.

On my desk.

You'll find a letter.

A brief sent to me from
Mr. James Harris.

Several of our agents are held
in terrible conditions

in a London prison.

He will oversee with goodwill

the release of one of our spies
against the release of your lady spy.

I know.

Justice will take care of the rest.

And I wouldn't dream of interfering
in your police inquiry.


Delivering her to the English
would avoid a public trial

which could reveal
some very nasty stuff.

You wanted her dead, no?

And the agreement with Austria?

It will happen or not.

Austria has problems
with the Prussians.

But our war with the English
is unavoidable.

It's for this day, at midnight.

There. I'm finished.

James Harris was informed
of your capture.

You will be released.

Do you know what he does to agents
who have failed?

You practice a very cruel
and dangerous game,

of which you know the rules.

If I stay here, I could
inform on the English...

Do you know where we are?

This is the last residence of poor
unfortunate Saül François Peilly.

From here, he took his last flight.

I have no trust in you, Madame.

I don't know what lies
the next pack of lies will bring.

Undoubtedly, you were trained
abroad. Whatever.

You owe me something.

Something very dear.

I owe you nothing.

You owe me the life
of the poor Freluche.

So, you too were smitten by her.

You disappoint me greatly,

I have the task of organizing

the conditions of your escape.

You're going to escape.

The bars are still sawed off.

You only have to
take the same route.

I've refused better, Madame.

I won't escape.

I want a fair trial,
here, in my country.

If you're still here at dawn,

tomorrow, before noon,
you'll be before the firing squad.

You don't have the right.

In times of war,

an armed spy who is captured
is shot forthwith.

That's a fact,
but we're not at war.

It's midnight, Madame.

War with England
was just declared.

We are reconciled
in front of everybody.

Are we?

We talked about
your behavior.

Everything always ends by working
itself out.

The proof.

Come see.

Excuse me.

You seem a little sad, Nicolas.

Is it the effect
of this damn war?

No. It's just that
the champagne is warm.

Subtitles: Eclair Media