Scarecrow and Mrs. King (1983–1987): Season 2, Episode 8 - Affair at Bromfield Hall - full transcript

After being accused of sleeping with a married English Baron while on a mission with Lee, Amanda stays at the Baron's mansion to dispel the rumours.

To AnaCord Electronics, Incorporated
S.A. Make it directly to Hattman.

Stats on micro-laser circuitry
encouraging but incomplete.

Need further readout on system
integrity. Forward all data soonest.

- Uh, make a copy for Duchow on that too.
- Yes, sir.

I'll need a transcript on the meeting with
Howland Warde by 5:00 this afternoon.

- Make reservations at the club at 6.
- Right-o.

Um, excuse me.
I'll be right with you.

Amanda, could I talk to you?

You're really doing
very well with this.

- I've been getting into it.
- Uh-huh. But look...

it's really not necessary
to write all this down.

Just trying to keep in
touch with my shorthand.

I haven't used it since I
learned it in high school.

Yeah, well, I'm really not saying
anything that's making any sense.

- Good.
- Heh.

I know you're very busy.

But do you think you could give me a few
more details about what we're doing here?

All right.

There has been a major breach in the
Anglo-American intelligence community.

I am here at the
invitation of MI5.

Now, as president of AnaCord
Electronics, I can meet with them openly.

- Looks like I'm just peddling technology.
- Right.

- That's why you're here.
- Right.

You're window dressing.

I'm window dressing?

- Uh-huh.
- Oh.

So look, I'm not gonna need
you for the rest of the day.

Why don't you go
sightseeing or something?

- Are you sure you're not gonna need me?
- Oh, absolutely.

Well, if you're not gonna need me, I
should probably go do some sightseeing.

Mm-hm. Try to
stay out of trouble.

Sightseeing? Oh.

Hardly any trouble sightseeing.


- Goodbye.
- Yes, sir.

Excuse me.

Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.
Did I step on your foot?

No, that's all right. A very
light step. Scarcely perceptible.

Oh. Busy spot.

Look, I think you'd see
a lot better over there.

- Excuse me.
- Thank you.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

I think... Here.

- Now, if you stand up here...
- Oh, yes.

Oh, go ahead.

- Better?
- Fine.

- American, aren't you?
- Mm-hm.

This is a bit off the
normal tourist route.

Oh, well, yes. You know, I love
the old cathedrals and the castles...

but this is like history coming to
life right in front of your very eyes.

Yes, I suppose it is. How on
earth did you find out about it?

Oh, well, a man outside my hotel told me
that there was a celebration here today...

and that the morris
dancers would be here.

I don't know what the
morris dancers are.

Well, I think they're a survival of
a primitive religious ceremonial.

I wish my wife was here. She
knows about these sort of things.

Can't imagine what she's doing.

You do love me, Geoffrey?

You're not paying
attention, darling.

That's a terrible
fault of yours.

I'm leaving him.

And now you're talking nonsense.

Why should I stay with a man
I don't love? And you're free.

And barely able
to support myself.

- What could I possibly offer you?
- Your love.

That's all I care about.

That's very dear
and very unrealistic.

I'm tired of sneaking about...

stealing moments.

Five years of moments.

I don't much like it either.
But it's what we have.

I'd like more, thank you.

In time, Gwyn.

I've some fairly good prospects.

Five years of prospects.


I'm sick to death of patience.

I seem to be sick to
death of everything but you.

Make it soon, Geoffrey.

Please make it soon.

Well, I really should be going.

- All right.
- Thank you.

I don't know how you do it.

I swear, I don't
know how you do it.

- I told you what happened.
- Yes, you told me.

I'm in the middle of the most
delicate investigation of my career.

- I know that.
- No, you don't know that.

In four days, a top-level
meeting is being held...

at which the new defense strategies
for the North Sea oil fields are laid out.

That's how much time I have to
find the leak in our intelligence.

And you, what do you do? You
end up in the middle of a sex scandal.

I am not in the middle of a sex
scandal. I don't even know that man.

That man happens to
be Lord Ralph Bromfield.

Not only a peer of the realm, he's
undersecretary at the Foreign Office.

I'm sorry. I didn't know
that. I don't know him.

Look, how can that
newspaper call me, uh...

His mistress?

Why are you whispering?
It's made every rag.

Didn't make The Times.

Oh. Something
to be grateful for?

At least it said that I was a secretary
to the president of AnaCord Electronics.

So it makes your
cover legitimate.

- What's that, the bright side?
- No. There isn't any bright side.

- Millions of people think I'm a...
- Bimbette?

That's not funny. That really isn't
funny. That's really not funny at all, Lee.

Now, suppose Mother
should read this.

The story could get
picked up in the States.

Mother could read it, or Philip and
Jamie. I'm not even there to explain.

It's not gonna make
the papers in the States.

- You don't know that.
- I do know that.

I called in a few favors.


- You did that for me?
- Yeah.

- Thank you.
- Forget about it, okay?

Come on. We'll grab a cup
of tea to settle your nerves.

Oh, no.

- Will you stop skulking?
- I'm not skulking.

- They recognized me.
- So? You don't know them.

I don't know Lord
Bromfield either.

Do you know what he
had to say about all this?

- "No comment."

- A good thing to do
in a situation like this.

Look, I've got you booked out
for tomorrow morning on TWA.

- You expect me to leave?
- It's known as cutting your losses.

With you out of the way,
this thing will blow over.

I cannot leave until Lord
Bromfield makes a public denial.

That's impossible, Mrs. King.

A denial would
inflame the situation.

I've never been involved
in a situation before.

Unfortunately, I have.

There is an element in our press
which can be described as sensationalist.

Where a scandal does not
exist, they invent. As in this case.

Why don't you just
tell them the truth?

They wouldn't believe me.

I'm afraid he's right.

It would be printed in a way that
made it sound like an out-and-out lie.

- Then they'd rehash the affair.
- There isn't any affair!

I know that.

Look, I spent a great deal of last year
in and around the Washington area.

Which is where you live.

But we never met.

Regrettably, no.

Unfortunately, I took those
trips unaccompanied by my wife.

The press feels that it is
possible that we could have met...

that an alliance could
have been formed.

I am terribly sorry, Mrs. King.

I realize that a woman's reputation
is as dear to her as it is to a politician.

Oh, no!

Oh, no. That's the same man
that took the picture before.


that should make tomorrow's
newspapers with a suitable caption.


Maybe Lee's right.

Maybe I should just go home.

But that would look like I was running
away and that would really look bad.

I may have a possible solution.

My wife and I have invited
some guests for the weekend.

If you were to join the party,
come to Bromfield Hall...

Yes. But what would Lady
Bromfield say about that?

Well, actually, it was her idea.
She's an eminently practical woman.

If you were to come, it might appear
that you were an old friend of the family.


Yeah. It could work.

In fact, it's not a bad idea.

Yeah. Go for the weekend.

The invitation includes
you, Mr. Stetson.

Well, thank you, but I do have
some business to attend to.

No, I think it's important,
you see, because

if the two of you
are seen together...

it might appear that you are
more than employer and secretary.


- But we aren't.
- Well, I... No.

I mean, we're not...

And neither are we, Mrs. King.

However, I'm sure that you're as
anxious to rectify this situation as I am.

Mr. Stetson is a very busy man.

How much business can
you do on a weekend?

I presume, sir, that you have some
concern for the reputation of Mrs. King.

Yes, it is of some concern.

Thank you.


Well, I shall see
you tomorrow then.

A weekend in the country
should put everything to rights.


Hey! You!

Give me that!

Hold on. You can't go mucking
about with that. That's private property.

Oh, yeah? Pal, this
is private property.

And this is a private face!

- You're gonna be sorry you did that, mate.
- Get the hell out of here.

Go on! Get the hell out!

You're gonna be real sorry,
mate. You know that? Real sorry.

Just a quiet weekend
in the country.

I'm so sorry about
that dreadful man.

I've no idea how he
came to be on the property.

Yes. Doesn't seem any
way of stopping these chaps.

I can think of a few. But,
unfortunately, they're all against the law.

Well, let's put it
behind us now.

Look, we've so looked
forward to having you here.


You've been as
nervous as a kitten.

I, however, have been
beside myself with anticipation.

Oh. Ralph, introduce
me to your friend.

Our friend, Margery.

How can that be, Gwyneth?

You've never seen
her before in your life.

Mrs. King, an old and very
trying friend of the family...

- Lady Witherspoon.
- How do you do?

Oh, you're much prettier
than your photograph.

But that's usually
the way, isn't it?

I've refused to have mine
taken for the past 20 years.

Yes, well, we didn't have
the luxury of a refusal.

Now go away, Ralph.

I want to hear all about your
affair from this young lady.

Lee, do something.

Now, don't tell me
you're going to deny it.

There is no affair, as
you know perfectly well.

The entire incident was
contrived. Probably to discredit me.

I simply went to see
the morris dancers.

And I received a telephone
call from the Hall...

saying that Gwyneth
wanted to see me there.

She knew nothing about it.

I don't know why you're
protesting so, Ralph.

This scandal's made you
interesting for the first time in years.

Would you care to meet
some of our other guests?

- Thank you.
- Put her in the green room, Gwyneth.

It's close to mine. We
can have a chat later.

- Lovely. Yes.
- Yes.

Excuse us, please.

Lady Bromfield, I hope you know that
your husband and I didn't have an affair.

Oh, Mrs. King, my husband and
I have been married for 12 years.

Our relationship is
based on mutual trust.

Geoffrey, I'd like you to meet
Mrs. King and Mr. Stetson.

Our very dear friend,
Geoffrey Douglas-Wood.

- Hello, Mr. Douglas-Wood.
- How do you do?


- And Errol Pridemore.
- AnaCord Electronics, isn't it?

- Yes.
- Yes, I believe we've met.

Oh, yes. Good to see you again.

Lady Bromfield, I'm sorry, but something
came up this morning back in London that...

You're leaving already?

Well, yeah. Just
for a few hours.


So if you'll excuse me.

Of course, Mr. Stetson.
I quite understand.

I should probably walk
with Mr. Stetson to the car.

- Excuse me.
- Gentlemen.

I don't know what to
say to these people.

Mr. Stetson!

Will you just stop
worrying? You'll be fine.


I don't mean to keep
you. I just wanted to say...

It's all right.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

If Mrs. King is with you,
she must be agency too.

Mr. Pridemore here is MI5.


We didn't have an opportunity for
more than introductions at the office.

Tragic, this business
about poor Ransome.

Excuse me.

What business
about poor Ransome?

Ransome was an MI5
agent that I was working with.

They found him on the
Thames embankment, murdered.

You didn't tell me that
anyone had been murdered.

- You didn't ask.
- No.

I just wanted
you to know that...

- Know what?
- Look, let's be honest, shall we?

We'd be much happier if that security
leak came from your side of the Atlantic...

but it hasn't.

I think everybody'd be a lot
happier if there were no leak at all.

Naturally, but there is one.

And what I'm trying to
say, rather clumsily...

is there's no resentment of your
part in the investigation on this side.

And I don't just
speak for myself.

Whoever it is, we want
him found and dealt with.

Yes. Well, thank you.

Well, Mrs. King, I must say, I
was surprised to see you here...

after that nasty business
in the newspapers.

You saw it too?

Everybody saw it, Amanda.

In any event, if you need my help, I
shall be here for the whole weekend.

I can't say why.
Gwyneth despises me.

But there you are.

Oh, and don't worry too much
about that business in the newspapers.

That sort of thing has
a way of blowing over.

Oh-ho. No.

It doesn't bother me.

A sex scandal.

Forget it, okay?
It's not your fault.

I mean, nobody who knows
you is gonna believe it.

You, in the middle
of a sex scandal?

All you need is one look
to know it's ridiculous.

- Why?
- Why what?

Why is it ridiculous?

Just because it isn't true
doesn't make it ridiculous.

Why are we having this
ridiculous conversation?

We're having this conversation because
you said it was ridiculous that I...

All right, all right, all right.

You're sleeping with
Lord Bromfield. How's that?

- Heh. Ridiculous.
- That's right. It's ridiculous.

So may I go to work now?

- Sure you don't need me to help?
- I'm sure I don't need you.

Oh, Amanda, look at this.
Take a look around you. Hmm?

This is hardly your usual
day in the country, right? Stay.

Relax. Make the most of it.

You're right.

It's very beautiful.

And it's big.


- Lee, are you all right?
- Yeah.

- Yeah, I'm fine.
- I'll get a doctor.

No, no, no. Amanda, I'm fine.

If that thing had hit you,
it would've killed you.


What the hell is
going on around here?

Looks like I'm not
going anywhere.

Well, you really
should be resting.

Amanda, I am not
Jamie. I am not Philip.

The doctor said you have a
very nasty bruise on that shoulder.

You see, she saves my life and
now she feels she's responsible for me.

- Quick thinking. Well done.
- Oh, thank you very much.

This is a very, very
interesting room, Mr. Bromfield.

It certainly is.

Ooh. That's a little

I would keep them away
from Philip and Jamie.

They're decorative now, but I daresay they
did their share of damage in their time.

You know, it is a great shame you didn't
actually see that photographer in the act.

We could have brought
charges against him.

Why are you so sure that
it was the photographer?

Well, who else could it be?

I checked him out. His
name is Ronald Compson.

By reports, he's a thoroughly bad lot.
He made threats against you, didn't he?

Yes, yes. But I still think
it's a little out of character.

Anyway, whoever it was must
have been inside the house.

- How would he have gotten inside?
- That wouldn't be difficult.

On a weekend, lots of
guests coming to and fro.

Oh, it was Compson. I'm
perfectly sure of that in my mind.

Well, I'm not.

- Would you care to elaborate on that?
- No, no. Not at the moment.

Are you sure that you want to go
to this wretched party, Mr. Stetson?

Oh, yes, yes. I'm
looking forward to it.

Oh, dear.

I hate large parties. Can't think why
Gwyneth insists upon having them.

Oh, I'm looking
forward to it too.

- Are you?
- Yes.

Oh, well, in that case, we shall spend
no more time in this dusty armory.

- But, sir...
- All right, mate, I'm expected.

Ralph, where have you
been? People are arriving.

- By the trainload, it would appear.
- I expect you to be gracious.

I shall be infinitely
gracious, and then I

shall sneak out and
have a cigar. Excuse me.

And he will.

In the midst of everything, he'll
be off by himself somewhere.

I'm so glad you feel
up to this, Mr. Stetson.

I considered canceling but, as
you see, it was quite impossible.

No, no, no. I'm feeling fine, Lady
Bromfield. Really. I was very lucky.

My dear, I've been looking
simply everywhere for you...

because I do want to
find out what happened.

I mean, how do you
come to be in that position?

Compson. Excuse me.

Do tell me. I'm sure it's time
you could tell me something.

It's Compson. I... Compson?

Who's Compson?

One of the pikes is missing.

Scotland Yard have
every wish to cooperate.

But a murder has been done.

Witnesses have attested to an altercation
between Mr. Stetson and the deceased.

Threats were exchanged.

Excuse me, sir, but you know
that Mr. Stetson didn't kill anyone.

- Amanda, it's all...
- Lee.

Sir, he didn't.

Mr. Stetson may have a
temper and he blows up...

but it blows over. And he's
not violent or irresponsible.

And I really think that it should go
on the record that he was angry...

because Mr. Compson published
the story and the photograph...

about Lord Bromfield and
myself, and it wasn't true.

I was angry and Lord Bromfield
was angry, but we didn't kill him.

- Somebody did, madam.
- But it wasn't Mr. Stetson, sir.

- Amanda.
- Yes?

Keaton didn't say I killed
him. He said I had motive.

Which you've just confirmed.

Now, please, be quiet.

Thank you, Mr. Stetson.

Mr. Newhouse has told
me about your investigation.

We cannot have that compromised,
Keaton. There is too much at stake here.

Our man Ransome has
already paid with his life.

Granted. However, one cannot
ignore the fact of Mr. Compson's death.

For the moment you
can mark it as accidental.

A pike driven through the back
is hardly accidental, Mr. Stetson.

Yeah, but it wasn't meant for
Compson. I think it was meant for me.

For you? LEE: Yes.

We know that this sex
scandal incident was a setup.

I think it was designed to get me
to Bromfield Hall to eliminate me.

I hadn't realized we were
that close in our investigation.

Neither did I.

They couldn't terminate
the investigation,

so they tried to
terminate the investigator.

Lord Bromfield is undersecretary
at the Foreign Office.

As liaison with the intelligence
community he's privy to a great deal.

But why would Lord Bromfield
try to kill anyone at his own home?

I don't think he would.

Now, there is Errol
Pridemore, MI5.

And Geoffrey Douglas-Wood,
whoever the hell he is.

I've already run him. We've nothing on
him, except a very active social calendar.

Nothing on any of
the other guests either.


I think I can delay the Compson
inquiry 24 hours, if that would help.


- How do you propose to play this?
- I don't know.

I just know where the game is.

It's Bromfield Hall.

- You can't go back there.
- I have to. I'm running out of time.

I wish you wouldn't
put it that way.

The North Sea defense
strategy has taken months to plan.

If I don't plug that leak
before the meeting...

it's gonna end up where a lot of secret
information has, behind the Iron Curtain.

But someone at Bromfield
Hall is trying to kill you.

- Yeah, and I hope they try it again.
- Oh.

- Amanda, it's what I do.
- I know.

All right.

- I'll go with you.
- No.

- What do you mean, no?
- No.

No? I have to go.

Lee, I'm part of your cover.

If I don't go with you,
how will you explain it?

All right. Strictly as part of
my cover. Just background.

Right. Window dressing.

Come on. I didn't mean
that the way it sounded.

I know you didn't
mean it. I know.

- It's all right.
- Ha.

I think it's Lady Bromfield.

Lady Bromfield? She's not strong
enough to put the pike through the hedge.

No, I don't think she actually
did it. But I think she's behind it.

I just don't trust her.

I don't know what makes me ask
this, but why don't you trust her?

- It's a feeling.
- Oh, that solid?

Mm-hm. I don't think
she loves her husband.

She's been married to him for 12 years.
Stood by him through this whole scandal.

That's very nice. But I
don't think she loves him.

- Amanda, no.
- Lee.

There's just something about
the way that she looks at him.

Nothing in her face
when she looks at him.

She doesn't look
like she loves him.

There's nothing in her eyes.

They never touch. Have
you seen them hold hands?

Or have you ever seen him
put his arm around her? She...

You know, people who
care about each other...

you know, they wanna be
close to each other and...

And they... Uh...

She doesn't touch him.

- Uh... Uh... No, we...
- No. You know, you, uh...

- You have some fascinating theories.
- Well, they're...

Well, we can stay here
all day or we can go back.


Yeah, we better go.

Come on.

I'm filing for divorce.

- Gwyn.
- No, Geoffrey, I won't be dissuaded.

I should have done it the minute
that newspaper article came out.

Why I've allowed you to persuade me
into this absurd charade, I don't know.

Ralph can be a generous
man. He can also be vindictive.

Let him do his worst.

You're being emotional.

Well, love is an emotion.

And it's one I'm tired
of taking on the sly.

Gwyneth, the time isn't right.

Will it ever be?

No, Geoffrey.

I want an answer.

Of course there'll
be a time for us.

Seems to me the ideal
time has come and gone.

Instead of naming Mrs. King correspondent,
I'm having her here for the weekend.

For which Ralph is
enormously grateful.

- She's a pleasant enough sort.
- Relentlessly pleasant.

This weekend, which you've
devised, for what reason I don't know...

has been sheer hell. And
now they're back again.

I'm to entertain them...

while that loathsome
photographer's not yet cold?

It's grotesque.

Gwyneth, a few days.

May I ask that?

A few days?

A few days?

Tell me, what do you
know about Geoffrey?


I'm afraid I know very
little about Geoffrey.

He's here as a
guest quite often.

Rather seems to be his
lot in life, being a guest.

Good family, of course.

Why do you ask?


If that's a reprimand,
it's lost on me.

We still haven't had
our little talk, my dear.

Lady Witherspoon, there really
isn't anything to talk about, honestly.

I went to see the
morris dancers...

and Lord Bromfield was there...

I tripped, and the
photographer took our picture.

- I'm sorry.
- How boring.

I was afraid it was
something like that.

Ralph's always had an eye for
the ladies but no follow-through.

Really? I thought he and Lady
Bromfield seem very happy.

- Oh, do they?
- Yeah.

I'm afraid I've never really
thought of them in those terms.

Although arranged marriages
generally are the best.

- Arranged?
- You see...

Gwyneth had an impeccable
bloodline but not a penny to her name.

But you see how
well it's worked out.

What about Errol Pridemore?
Is he a guest here often?

Well, he's usually here
when Geoffrey's here.

They seem close, but
not necessarily friends.

Ha-ha. I know that
sounds odd, but...

No, it doesn't
seem that odd at all.

In fact, it's starting
to make some sense.

Thank you very much,
Lady Witherspoon.

- See you later then.
- See you later, Lady Witherspoon.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

- She's very nice, isn't she?
- Uh-huh.

All right. Geoffrey Douglas-Wood
and Errol Pridemore...

- anything there?
- I'm going to find out.

- How?
- By going through their rooms.

- We can't do that.
- We're not going to. I am.

- Alone?
- That's the way I work, Amanda.

- No.
- No?

- No.
- No.

No. I'm not gonna
let you do it alone.

They've tried to kill you twice. If
they try again, I wanna be there.

- To do what? To do what?
- Uh... Scream?

Amanda, I appreciate
your concern, I really do.

But I've got a far more
important job for you.

- What?
- This is very important.

- Okay.
- Now, you remember she mentioned...

- Gwyneth and her impeccable bloodline?
- Yes.

I want you to trace it. I passed a bunch
of books on genealogy in the small library.

You should find everything
you need in there.


- I don't really understand what this...
- Trust me on this. Hmm?

Just do it.

- Okay.
- Good.

- Be careful.
- Oh, always.

All right. What's
so damned urgent?

You can actually ask that?
After what's happened?

First Ransome, out
of my own department.

All right, I can see
why that was necessary.

And I agreed to killing Stetson.

- But that photographer...
- That was an accident.

And it's generating a
full-scale investigation.

I don't know how you felt
under Keaton's questioning...

but I felt damned uncomfortable.

I'm sure you
handled yourself well.

When you approached me about
this, it had to do with money, not murder.

Why so squeamish?
You're trained for the job.

- Your accounts are healthy.
- I don't like it.

I don't much like it, either. It's a
question of what becomes necessary.

After the sale of the North Sea strategy
we should both be able to pack it in.

That should bring
more than all the rest.

How am I to get my
hands on that information...

with Stetson prying
into the department?

We stick to the original plan.

We eliminate
Stetson and Mrs. King.


I am not killing a woman.

An agent, Errol! She's
working with Stetson!

She's as much an agent as he is.

It would simplify matters
if it looked like an accident.

But in any event, they both die.

Are we in agreement, Errol?

They both die.


- Don't close it!
- Mrs. King, what on earth is the matter?

The doorknob turns
but the door won't open.

- It's perfectly all right.
- No, it's not all right.

- They're gonna murder Mr. Stetson.
- Murder?

I don't have time to explain.

- I just have to get out.
- One moment.

Look, it's an ancestor's idea of a joke.
It's a spring device here. Handel's Works.

Thank you very much.

Where do Mr. Douglas-Wood
and Mr. Pridemore stay?

- First floor. First room to the right.
- You better show me. You better show me.

- Amanda...
- I was in the library and I heard them.

They're gonna kill us and steal the
plans for the North Sea defense strategy.

- Who?
- Pridemore and Douglas-Wood.

They're in it together. I was
reading the book on genealogy...

I just sent you there to
get you out of my hair.

You did what?

What on earth is going on? I demand
an explanation, one way or the other.

- Where are they? Still here?
- I think so.

All right, you did real,
real well, Amanda.

Stay out of this. Let
me wrap it up, okay?


Gentlemen, certain serious
allegations have been made.

Now, what is all this about
North Sea defense strategy?

I demand an explanation!


Oh, Gwyneth.

- Stay out of this.
- Stay out of it?

- What are you gonna do if you catch them?
- Right.

That way.

- Call Keaton.
- Call him?

Hey! What are you
doing? You can't... Stop!

Stop! What's going on?

- What's going on?
- Excuse me.

- He just took it and went.
- What's going on here? Come on.

All right.


I got you.

An absolutely unforgettable weekend.
I can't thank you enough for asking me.

- I'm glad you enjoyed it, Margery.
- Oh, I did.

Police inspectors, Scotland
Yard, MI5. Marvelous.

- Did you try the scones?
- Oh, no. I...

Pity. They were superb.

But to see Geoffrey and that dreadful
Pridemore fellow being led off...

virtually in chains, well,
that was rather high drama.

- You'll never equal it.
- I don't intend to try.

Now, goodbye, my
dear. So nice to know you.

- Goodbye, Mr. Stetson. Bye.
- Goodbye.

- Bye, Ralph dear. Bye.
- Goodbye.

Goodbye. Be good. Oh, my Lord.

I do wish Margery
wouldn't prattle on so.

This is extremely
distressing for Gwyneth.

I know. Lord Bromfield, if
there were any other way...

No. There wasn't. There wasn't.

I'm delighted that the whole wretched
business has been finally settled.

You're to be
commended, Mr. Stetson.

- You too, Mrs. King.
- Oh, I didn't do anything.

Oh, well...

Well, I did stop that urn from
falling on Mr. Stetson's head.


And I did overhear the
conversation in the library.

Yeah. You were good.

No, but you were better.

You suspected Mr. Douglas-Wood
and Mr. Pridemore. I thought it was...

someone else.

To betray the security of one's
country for a handful of silver.

I find that incomprehensible.

To think that we nursed him in
the bosom of the family, as it were.

- You didn't know.
- No.

What do you think of Majorca?

- Majorca?
- Hmm.

Yes. For a holiday.

I think that might be
what Gwyneth needs.

I think perhaps I'll
ask her. Excuse me.

He's a very understanding man.

- He's in love.
- Mm.

You notice that? Didn't know
you noticed things like that.

You're trained to notice things, but I
didn't know you noticed things like that.

I noticed.

Bromfield's contacts were
very, very important to Geoffrey.

He was obviously using Gwyneth.

- Cold.
- But practical.

- Hope they throw the book at him.
- They will.

We won't have to testify,
will we? I don't wanna stay.

- We could have our picture in the paper...
- Amanda.

Mother and Jamie... Hmm?

I will take care of this
through MI5, believe me.

You don't have
anything to worry about.

Okay? This will be a security
operation from here on out.

No press. No publicity. Heh.

I... Well?

It's better than nothing.

- Goodbye, Mrs. King.
- Goodbye.