The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1986–1988): Season 1, Episode 3 - The Second Stain - full transcript

One Tuesday morning in autumn
at precisely half past eight,

Sherlock Holmes received
a mysterious message

that two men of great public distinction
would be visiting Baker's Street

in their private capacity

and under circumstances
of complete secrecy.

Holmes, they're here.

In brief, Mr. Holmes.

A document has been stolen
from my private dispatch box

and when I discovered my loss,

which was at eight
o'clock this morning,

I at once informed
the Prime Minister.



It was at his suggestion
that we both come to you.

You have informed the police?

No sir, we have not done so,

nor is it possible
that we should do so.

To inform the police must,
in the long run, mean,

to inform the public.

And that is what we
particularly desire to avoid.

And why, sir?

Because the document in question
is of such immense importance

that its publication might very easily,
I might almost say probably,

lead to European complications
of the utmost moment.

Unless its recovery is attended
by the utmost secrecy,

then it may as well not
be recovered at all,

for all that is aimed at
by those who have taken it



is that its contents
should be generally known.

I understand.

Watson, do sit down.

Now, Mr. Trelawney Hope,

I'd be much obliged if you would
tell me the exact circumstances

under which this
document disappeared.

As Secretary of State
for European affairs,

I received the letter six days ago.

It was a letter from the foreign
potentate you understand.

It was of such importance
that I never left it in my safe,

but I have taken each
evening from my office,

back to my house in
Whitehall Terrace,

and kept it in my bedroom,
locked in my dispatch box.

And you are sure it
was there last night?

Yes, I'm quite
certain of that fact.

I actually opened the dispatch box
whilst I was dressing for dinner,

and I saw the letter inside.

It then remained upon
my bedside table.

Both my wife and I
are light sleepers

and are prepared to
swear that no one

could have entered the room during
the night. And yet this morning

the paper is gone.

What time did you dine?

Seven-thirty.

How long was it before
you went to bed?

My wife had gone to the theatre.
I had waited up for her, it was-

eleven-thirty before
we went our room.

So for four hours the dispatch box
had lain unguarded?

Mr. Holmes, no one is ever
permitted to enter that room

save the housemaid in the morning,
and my valet during the rest of the day.

They are both trusty servants

who have been with
us for many years.

Besides, neither of them could
have possibly known

that there was anything more
valuable than the ordinary

departmental papers in my box.

Surely your wife knew?

Mr. Holmes?

I have long known how high is
Mr. Hope's sense of public duty.

I am convinced that in the
case of this importance

it would rise superior to the
most intimate domestic ties.

You do me no more than
justice, Prime Minister.

Until this morning I have
never breathed one word

to my wife upon this matter.

Who is there in England, who did
know the existence of this letter?

Each member of the Cabinet
was informed of it yesterday

but the pledge of secrecy,
which attends every Cabinet meeting,

was increased by the solemn warning
given by the Prime Minister.

My God!

To think that within a few hours
I myself should have lost it.

Besides the members of the Cabinet
there are two, possibly three

departmental officials
who know of the letter.

No one else in England,
I assure you.

But abroad?

I believe that no one abroad
has seen the letter

except the man who wrote it. I am
well convinced that his ministers

that the usual official channels
have not been employed in this case.

Now, sir, I must ask you more
particularly what this document is

and why its disappearance should
have such momentous consequences?

Mr. Holmes, the envelope is a long,
thin one of pale blue color,

There's a seal of red wax
stamped with a crouching lion.

It is addressed in
large, bold handwriting...

Interesting and indeed essential
as these details are,

my inquiries must go more
to the root of things.

What was the letter?

That is a State secret
of the utmost importance,

which we cannot tell you,
nor do I see that it is necessary.

If by the powers which
you are said to possess

you can find such an
envelope as I describe

with its enclosure then you will
have deserved well of your country,

and earned any reward which it is
within our power to bestow.

Gentlemen,

you are two of the most
busy men in the country

and in my own small way I have
a good many calls upon me.

I regret exceedingly that I am
unable to help you in this matter,

and any continuation of this interview
would be a waste of time.

I am not accustomed,
Sir, to such things.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

we must accept your terms.
No doubt you are right,

and it is unreasonable
for us to expect you

to act unless you have
our full confidence.

I agree with you, Prime Minister.

Then I will tell you,
relying entirely upon your honor

and that of your
colleague, Dr. Watson.

I must appeal to your
patriotism also,

for I cannot imagine a greater
misfortune for this country

than that this affair
should come out.

You may safely trust us.

The letter, then, is from
a certain foreign potentate

who has been ruffled by some-

recent colonial developments
of this country.

It is written hurriedly and upon
his own responsibility entirely.

At the same time, it is couched
in so unfortunate a manner

that its publication
would undoubtedly

lead to the most dangerous
feeling in this country.

There would be such ferment, sir,

that I do not hesitate
to say that within a week

of the publication of this letter

this country would be
involved in a great war.

And it is this letter, which may
well mean the expenditure of a-

thousand million pounds.

And the lives of
a hundred thousand men.

Have you informed the sender?

A cipher telegraph
has been dispatched.

Perhaps he desires the
publication of the letter.

No, Doctor, we have
strong reason to believe

that he already
understands that he has

acted in an indiscreet
and hotheaded manner.

It would be a far
greater blow to him

and his country than to us
if this letter were to come out.

If this is so, in who's interest is it
that the letter should come out?

Why should anyone desire
to steal it or publish it?

There, Doctor Watson,
you take me into the realms of

high international politics.

But if you consider
the European situation

you will have no difficulty
in perceiving the motive.

The whole of Europe
is an armed camp.

Great Britain holds the scales.

If Britain were driven into
war with one confederacy,

it would assure the
supremacy of the other,

whether they were joined
in the war or not.

So does the enemies
of this potentate

who want to secure and
publish this letter,

so as to make a breach
between his country and ours?

Yes, sir.

And to whom would the document be
sent if it fell into the wrong hands?

To any of the great
chancelleries of Europe.

It is probably speeding
its way thither

at the present instant
as fast as steam can take it.

It is your misfortune, my dear
fellow. No one can blame you.

There's no precaution
which you have neglected.

But now, Mr. Holmes, you are
in full possession of the facts.

What course do you recommend?

You think that if this document is
not recovered, there will be war?

I think it is very probable.

Then, sir, prepare for war.

That is a hard saying, Mr. Holmes.

Consider the facts. There seems
no doubt this document was taken

between half past seven
and half past eleven

yesterday evening,
so where can it be now?

No one has any reason to retain it,

It has been passed from
hand to hand rapidly

to those who need it
and who will pay well for it.

What chance do we have to
overtake it or even trace it?

It is beyond our reach.

What you say is perfectly
logical, Mr. Holmes.

I feel that the matter is
indeed out of our hands.

Meanwhile, Hope,

we cannot ignore all our other duties
on account of this one misfortune.

Should there be any
fresh developments

during the day we will
communicate with you

and you no doubt will let us know
the results of your own inquiries.

Thank you.

Telegraph!

Westminster Murder!

Westminster Murder!

Telegraph!

Westminster Murder!
Telegraph!

The situation is desperate,

but not hopeless.

There are only three men capable
of playing so bold a game

Oberstein, La Rothiere,
and Eduardo Lucas.

Even now, if we could be sure
which one of them has taken it,

it is just possible that it has
not passed out of their hands.

It's a question of money
with these fellows, isn't it?

Well, we have the British
Treasury behind us.

Oh, if it's on the market I'll buy it

if it means another
penny on the income tax.

Come in.

Excuse, Mr. Holmes.

Mrs. Hudson, what is it?

Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope.

Show her in

Has my husband been
here, Mr. Holmes?

Madam, yes he has been here.

Mr. Holmes, I implore you
not to tell him I came here.

Your ladyship puts me in
a very delicate position

I beg of you to sit down
and tell me what it is you desire

but I cannot make you any
unconditional promise.

Gentlemen, I will
speak frankly to you

in the hope that it will induce
you to speak frankly in return.

There is complete confidence
between my husband and myself

in all matters except one.
That one is politics.

On this his lips are sealed.
He tells me nothing.

Now, I am aware that
there was a most

deplorable occurrence
in our house last night.

I know that a paper has disappeared.
But because the matter is political

my husband refuses to take me
into his complete confidence.

Now it is essential, essential, I say,
that I should thoroughly understand it.

You are the only people
save these politicians,

who know the true facts,
at least I presume you do.

You presume correctly, madam.

I beg you then,

tell me exactly what has happened
and what it may lead to.

Tell me all, Mr. Holmes.

Let no regard for my husband's
interest keep you silent,

for I assure you that his interests,
if he would only see it

would be best served by taking me
into his complete confidence.

What was this paper,
which was stolen?

Madam, what you ask me
is really impossible.

You must see that this is so.

If your husband thinks fit to keep
you in the dark over this matter,

is it for me, who has only learned
the true facts

under the pledge of professional
secrecy, to tell what he has withheld?

It is not fair to ask it.
It is he who you must ask,

I have asked him
I come to you as a last resort.

But without your telling
me anything definite

you may do me a great service
if you would enlighten me on one point.

What is it, madam?

Is my husband's political career
likely to suffer through this incident?

Well, let me say that if it is not put
right it may have a very unfortunate effect.

One more question, Mr. Holmes.

From an expression which
my husband dropped

in the first shock of the disaster

I understood that terrible
public consequences

might arise from the
loss this document.

If he said so, I cannot deny it.

Of what nature are they?

There again. You ask me
more than I can possibly answer.

Then I will waste no more
of your time.

I cannot blame you, Mr. Holmes,
for refusing to speak more freely,

and you on your side will not,
I am sure, think the worst of me

because I desire to share
my husband's anxieties,

even against his will.

Once more I beg.
You will say nothing of my visit.

I say,

what a really remarkable
and beautiful woman.

The fair sex is your department,
Watson. What did she really want?

Surely her own statement was clear

and her anxiety very natural.

Think of her appearance,
Watson, her manner,

her suppressed excitement,
her restlessness,

her tenacity in asking questions.

Remember she is the youngest
daughter of the Duke of Belminster

and comes of a cast that does
not likely show emotion.

She was certainly much moved.

And you observed, of course,

how she maneuvered to have
her back to the light.

She did not wish us to read
her expression too closely.

Yes, she choose that
chair in the whole room.

And yet the motives of
women are so inscrutable.

I mean, how could you build
on such a quicksand?

Their most trivial action
may mean volumes,

or their most extraordinary conduct

may depend upon a hairpin
or a curling tong.

Good morning, Watson.

You off, then?

Holmes, was one of the agents
you spoke of called Eduardo Lucas?

Yes.

Of Godolphin Street?

Yes.

You'll not see him.

Why not?

He was murdered in
his house last night.

Does it say murdered?

Murdered in Westminster.
Crime of a mysterious character.

Eduardo Lucas,
unmarried, thirty-four,

well known in society circles on
account of his charming personality.

Valet out for the evening.

They always are.

Elderly housekeeper sleeps at the
top of the house, heard nothing.

They never do.

Just before midnight
police constable, Barrett,

saw a door ajar, found Lucas
stabbed to the heart.

Ah, let me see.

Prussian dagger. Robbery does not
appear to be the motive.

Valuable collection untouched.
What do you make of this, Watson?

Well it's an...
it's an amazing coincidence.

Coincidence?

Here is one of the three men
whom we have named

as possible actors in this drama,

and he meets a violent end
during the very hours we know

that drama is enacted.

The odds are enormously
against it being a coincidence.

The two events are connected.
Must be connected.

It is for us to find the connection.

By now the police must know all.

No, not at all. They know all
they see at Godolphin Street.

They know, and shall know
nothing of Whitehall Terrace.

Only we know of both events, and
can trace the relation between them.

It is with the late Eduardo Lucas
that the solution to our problem lies.

But it is a capital mistake
to theorize in advance of the facts.

Do you stay here my good, Watson,
I will join you when I'm able.

Watson, they've arrested the valet.

Lestrade has been put
in charge of the case.

He's buzzing around
like a blue bottle.

I've got to know him rather well.
Would it help if I spoke to him?

No, no it would not.

This is a case where the law is as
dangerous to us as the criminals are.

We must be patient and wait.

Lucas murder case.
The Evening Standard.

Lucas murder case.
Suspect released.

Murder case.

Breakfast, Mr. Holmes.

No, no, no thank you,
Mrs. Hudson. I don't want any.

I don't know. You'll
fade away at this rate.

I say, Holmes,

they've found the murderer
or rather the murderess.

Indeed.

There's a wire from Paris.

Apparently Lucas was
leading a double life.

He had a Creole wife in France

where he called himself
Henri Fournaye.

The woman was reported
to the police yesterday

by her servants
she is quite insane,

a mania of a dangerous
and permanent form.

Poor woman.

But listen to this.

The same woman was seen in the
neighborhood of Godolphin Street

on the night of the murder and later

made an emotional scene
at Charing Cross Station.

Now what do you think of that?

Oh, my dear Watson,
you are so long-suffering,

if I've told you nothing
over these last few days

it is because there
is nothing to tell.

Even now this report from Paris
doesn't help us much.

Well, surely it's final as
regards to Lucas' death.

The man's death
is a mere incident,

a trivial episode in comparison
with our real task,

which is to trace the document
and save a European catastrophe.

Now if the letter were loose,

no, it cannot be loose...

but if it isn't loose, where can it be?
Who has it? Why is it held back?

Look, if Lestrade found
it amongst Lucas' papers,

he's not such a fool
as to announce it.

He would inform the
chief commissioner.

The chief commissioner would
inform the Home Secretary

and he, in turn, the Prime Minister.
No it's not among Lucas' papers.

But why is it held back?

That is the question which beats
in my brain like a hammer.

Was it a mere coincidence that
Lucas should meet his death

on the night when the
letter disappeared?

Did it ever reach him?

Has this mad wife of his
taken it with her to Paris?

If so, is it in her house in Paris?

Shall I go to Paris?

That would alert the French Police.
Every man's hand is against us,

and yet,

the interest at stake are colossal.

Should I bring this to
a successful conclusion,

it will certainly represent
the crowning glory of my career.

Holmes, look!

Thank you.

There you go, gov.

Thank you.

Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson.

You've no doubt been
following the Lucas case?

Lucas? Lucas?

Ah yes, the name does
seem familiar to me.

Eduardo Lucas,

found murdered last Tuesday night
at his house in Godolphin Street.

Rather a distinguished gentleman.

Student of international politics and
a remarkable linguist, so they say.

I've been in charge of
the case, matter of fact.

Not an easy task by any means.

Some delicate problems,
you understand?

But to the aid of our French friends

I have been able to bring the case
to a satisfactory conclusion.

All the loose ends tied up. Oh, we've
got it, clear as if we'd seen it.

Congratulations, Lestrade.
Another feather in your cap.

Yes, indeed.

Oh, before you go, Mr. Holmes,
it's a mere trifle,

but the sort of thing
you take an interest in

queer, you know, what you
might call freakish.

It has nothing to do with the main fact,
can't have, on the face of it.

What is it, then?

Well if you gentlemen could come
down to Godolphin Street,

I think I could explain it
better on the spot.

For a few minutes perhaps.

Oh good, it's only
just around the corner.

Thank you Cabbie, keep the change.

Here it all is.

Now the woman must have
knocked on the door

after she saw the valet
had gone out.

Surprise visit no doubt,
Lucas let her in.

He couldn't keep her on the
street could he his own wife?

She started screaming
at him being French.

Excuse me.

Saying how'd she traced him

and reproaching him and so on.
Anyway they came in here

and one thing led to another

and with the daggers being so handy
the end came soon.

It didn't happen in an instant though

for these chairs were
swept over to the wall

and he had this one in his hand,
as if he did try to hold her off with it.

Yes, Lestrade, thank you.

Now, tell me about this trifle.

Well, you know in crimes of this sort,
we keep things in their position.

Nothing has moved. Officers
in charge day and night.

I'm always very
particular on that point.

Oh, yes, you're meticulous
in your investigations, Inspector.

Well, this morning we thought
we could tidy up a bit.

Post-mortem over, all the evidence
to hand, investigation complete.

However, this carpet.

As you can see it's not
been fastened down,

it's just been laid there.
Now we had occasion to raise it.

And we found...

Yes?

You'll never guess in a hundred years
what we did find, Mr. Holmes.

Now you see this stain?

Now a good deal of blood must have
soaked through, must it not?

Undoubtedly, it must.

Then you'll be surprised to hear

that there is no stain
on the woodwork to correspond.

No stain?

But there must be.

So you would say, fact remains.

There isn't.

But the underside is
as stained as the upper.

It must have left a mark.

Now I will show you
the explanation.

There is a second stain, but it does
not correspond with this one.

Doctor Watson, will you take
that side of the carpet?

Now we will move round in an
anti-clockwise direction.

What I want to know
is, Mr. Holmes,

who shifted the carpet and why?

Lestrade, who was on duty
the day after the murder?

The day after?

MacPherson.
He's out there now.

Take my advice.
Examine him carefully

I'll get him.

Don't do it before us.
We'll wait here.

Tell him you know someone has
been here. Press him.

Tell him a full confession is
his only chance of forgiveness.

Do exactly as I tell you.

By George, if he knows
I'll have it out of him

Watson, quick, get the table!

Empty-

Holmes!

In here, Constable.

MacPherson. How's the family?

Very well, thank you sir.

Well, come on-out with it!

Let these gentlemen hear
of your inexcusable conduct.

Well, I meant no harm sir, I'm sure.
This young woman came to the door

answering an advertisement
about typewriting.

It was mistook, the house, she said.

While we got talking,
sir, you know how it is.

It's a bit lonely when you're
out there on duty all day.

What happened, MacPherson?

Well, sir, we got
talking about the crime.

She had read about it
in the paper, she said,

and wanted to see
where it was done.

So I saw no harm in letting her
have a wee peep.

She got just about in the door there,
spotted that mark in the carpet

and down she dropped on
the floor, and lay for dead.

And no wonder.

Go on, MacPherson.

Well, sir, I was away around
at the Ivy Plant for some brandy,

and by the time I had brought it back,
the young woman had...

well, she wasn't here anymore.
She had recovered and was off.

Ashamed of herself, as like as not
and dared not face me.

MacPherson,
did you move the carpet?

No, sir, I only straightened it out.

You see she had fell on it
and the polished floor being slippery.

Let that be a lesson to you, Constable,
that you can't deceive me.

No doubt that you thought your breach
of duty would never be discovered,

and yet a mere glance at that carpet
was enough to convince me

that someone had been
admitted to this room.

Lucky for you, my man,
that nothing's missing.

Otherwise you would find
yourself in Queer Street.

That will do.

Watson, what are we doing here?
We have work elsewhere.

Another feather in your cap, Lestrade.

Oh thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Good Lord, Mr. Holmes.

Have you solved it?

Hardly, Watson, hardly.

Two gentlemen wish to
speak to you, my lady.

They do not have an appointment.

Who are they, Bates?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes
and a Doctor Watson, my lady.

Very well.
You may show them in.

Very well, my lady.

Excuse me.

Mr. Holmes and Doctor
Watson, my lady.

Mr. Holmes.

This is surely most unfair
and ungenerous on your part.

I have desired, as I have explained,
to keep my visit to you a secret

and yet you compromise
me by coming here,

and so showing that there are
business relations between us.

Unfortunately, madam,
I have no possible alternative.

I've been commissioned to recover
an immensely important document.

I must ask you, therefore, to be kind
enough to place it in my hands.

You insult me, Mr. Holmes.

Do not ring, Lady Hilda.

If you work with me
I can arrange everything.

If you work against me,
I must expose you.

You're trying to frighten me.

It's not a very manly thing, Mr. Holmes,
to come here and browbeat a woman.

You say you have something to tell me.
Very well, I give you five minutes.

One is enough, Lady Hilda.

I know of your visit to Eduardo Lucas,
of your giving him this letter,

of your ingenious return to the room
on the evening after the murder,

and of the manner in which
you took this letter

from it's hiding place
under the carpet.

I have kept this because
I thought it might be useful

The policeman recognized you.

Once again, Mr. Holmes, I tell you
you're under some absurd illusion.

Oh, I am so sorry, Lady Hilda.
I have done my best,

but I feel that I'm in vain.

Is Mr. Trelawney Hope at home?

He'll be back at half past twelve, sir.

Then we have a quarter of an hour.

We will wait here.

Oh, spare me, Mr. Holmes.
Spare me.

For heaven's sake, don't tell him.

I love him so. I would not bring
one shadow on his life,

and this I know would
break his noble heart.

We have not an instant to lose.
Where is the letter?

Here it is. I wish to heaven
I'd never seen it.

And the dispatch box?

With my husband. Wherever
he goes he takes it with him.

We only have a few
minutes left. Now,

Lady Hilda, I'm going
far to screen you.

In return, you will spend the time

telling me frankly the real meaning
of this extraordinary affair.

It was on the afternoon of that day,
that terrible day.

The day Eduardo
Lucas was murdered?

Yes.

I was just going out
to pay some calls.

When a confidential
note arrived for me.

It was from Lucas asking me
to visit him urgently,

as he had important and private
information for my ears alone.

He had obtained, in some way,
a letter of mine, Mr. Holmes.

An indiscreet letter
written before my marriage.

Foolish letter.
Letter of an impulsive, loving girl.

I meant no harm, yet my husband
would have thought it criminal.

Had he read that letter

his confidence would have
been forever destroyed.

It's years since I wrote it. I thought
the whole matter was forgotten.

No doubt you remember
to content very well.

Very sprightly, I must say,
very sprightly.

You make a charming
correspondent.

What do you want with me, Mr. Lucas?
May I have my letter back please?

Of course, you may, Lady Hilda.

But this is a very valuable piece
of paper, would you not agree?

I'm sure if it was laid
before your husband,

he would hardly fail to
appreciate the content.

You're a blackmailer.

A businessman, Lady Hilda.

This is purely a business
transaction on my side.

I can assure you I wish no ill
to you or your husband.

How much money do you
want for that letter, Mr. Lucas?

Let's not speak of money, madam.
My business is not so simple as that.

Well, the matter is an easy one.

Every evening when your husband
returns from his ministry,

he brings with him
his private dispatch box.

Is that not so?

Yes.

When he comes home tonight
this box will contain

a long, blue envelope
sealed in red wax

with a crouching lion stamped on it.

Bring me that long, blue envelope
with its contents,

and I will return you this.

But my husband...

No harm will come to him
I can assure you.

Put yourselves in my position.
What was I to do?

Take your husband
into your confidence.

I could not, Doctor Watson,
I could not.

On the one side seemed certain ruin
on the other, terrible as it seemed

to take my husband's paper, in a matter
of politics, I could not understand it.

While in the matter of love and trust,
it was only too clear to me.

I did it, Mr. Holmes. I did it.

I invented a story about
going to the theatre.

The next morning I realized I'd only
exchanged one trouble for another.

I followed my husband to Baker Street
and then came to you myself

in order to understand
the full enormity of the offence.

I alone in the world knew
where the paper was hidden.

My whole mind was turned to
the one thought of getting it back.

What I did... Here he is now.

Any news, Mr. Holmes?
Any news?

I have some hopes.

This is a matter of politics, my dear.
We shall not be long.

The Prime Minister
is lunching with us.

May he share your hopes.
He has nerves of steel,

and yet I know that he's hardly
slept since this terrible event.

Mr. Holmes has some
news for us, sir.

What have you to report, Mr. Holmes?

Purely negative as yet.

I have made inquiries at every
point where it might be

and I'm sure there's no danger
to be apprehended.

That's not enough, Mr. Holmes.

We cannot live on this volcano.
We must have something definite.

I have high hopes of getting the letters
back. That is why I'm here.

The more I think of it
the more I am convinced

that the letter has
never left this house.

But why should anybody take it
in order to keep it in this house?

I'm not convinced that
anybody has taken it.

Mr. Holmes, this joking is very ill timed.
You have my assurance it was taken.

Have you examined the box carefully
since last Tuesday morning?

No not thoroughly. I did
not consider it necessary.

You could conceivably have
overlooked the letter.

That is impossible, sir,

I have known such things happening.
You have other papers in the box?

Yes, all my confidential papers.

It could have got mixed with them.

It was on the top.

The box could have been shaken.

I had everything out.

It's easily settled.
Let's go and look.

This is a farcical waste of time.

But still, if nothing else will satisfy
you, it shall be done.

Here all my confidential
papers as you can see.

It's a letter from Lord Merrow,
report from Sir Charles Hardy,

memorandum from Belgrade,

that's the one we were discussing
this morning, Prime Minister.

Note on the Russo-German
grain taxes, letter from Madrid,

note from Lord Flowers...

Yes, this is it.

And the letter is intact.

Remarkable.

This is inconceivable.
Impossible, Mr. Holmes.

Hilda.

How did you know it was here?

Because I knew it was nowhere else.

I cannot believe my eyes!

Hilda, we have found the letter

and I know it is difficult
for you to understand

but it is the most wonderful news.

It's quite extraordinary.

I went through every paper in here.
I checked and I rechecked...

It's incomprehensible that I should
have overlooked it in this manner.

Oh, gentlemen.

Come, there's more in this
than meets the eye.

Prime Minister, we, too, have
our diplomatic secrets.