The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes (1971–1973): Season 1, Episode 7 - Madame Sara - full transcript

In late Victorian London
lived many detectives

who were the rivals
of Sherlock Holmes.

By George, Vandeleur,
you've beaten me there.

Give up?

I can see what it seems to be,

but I'm dashed if I can see
why it should be what it seems.

And what does it seem to be?

Well, it's a mixture
of fine sand,

somewhere in the southwest --

Dartmoor, I should think!

Good, good.



And the dust --

produced
by a diamond-cutting machine.

Full marks.

Oh, no, no!

And this -- this was found in --

In Mr. Bellingham's
waistcoat pocket.

You cheated.

Well, I concealed
that bit of information.

I wanted to see
if you saw what I saw.

Well, that should be enough to
send Bellingham back to Dartmoor

for a fairish number of years.

Excuse me, sir,
a Mr. Selby to see you.

Yes, of course.
Show him in, Finch.

Thank you, sir.



The left-hand pocket, of course.

Now you're joking.

Not at all.

He keeps his watch
in his right-hand pocket --

very big watch, very tight fit,
no room for anything else.

Mr. Selby, sir.

How do you do?

Oh, forgive me.

Have I come to the wrong place?

I'd expected to find
a Mr. Werner.

You have indeed come
to the wrong place.

Mr. Werner has been
these last 10 years in heaven.

Oh,I--

However, Werner's inquiry agency
carries on business still,

under the aegis --

Good heavens.

I know you!
Jack Selby?

Yes.

Harrow, umpteen years ago!
You were my fag!

Dixon Druce!

- The same, or almost the same.
- God bless my soul.

May I introduce Eric Vandeleur,
friend, colleague,

and competitor, Inspector
Vandeleur of Scotland Yard.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

And I'm afraid goodbye.
Dixon, I'm off.

Must you?

Mr. Bellingham must be arrested,

and you, I suppose,
must earn a living.

Competitor in the sense
that we have competitions.

For example, he imagines that he
knows more about gunshot wounds

than I do,

and I think I know more
about poisons.

Poisons?

What kind of poisons?

Goodbye, Dixon.

Goodbye, old chap.

Once again, Mr. Selby.

He will offer you
a glass of sherry.

Take my advice.
Do not accept.

That was a joke?

Not at all.
He himself always refuses.

What?

I drink only manzanilla.

He prefers
that beastly amontillado.

So I have to send out
for amontillado.

Come into the consulting room.

Since you were looking
for Mr. Wemer,

I take it you do wish
to consult the agency.

I do.

Well, sit down.

Thank you.

You're a bachelor.

The agency is not matrimonial.

And you?

I was married three months ago
in Pare, on the Amazon.

Congratulations.
- Thank you.

Beatrice -- her name
was Beatrice Dallas --

-is a wonderful girl and...
- Extremely beautiful.

That goes without saying.

She's also very well off.

Renewed congratulations.

We must drink her health.

Did I hear you refuse
manzanilla?

Or do you trust me?

Of course.

I'm the happiest man on Earth,
except for one thing.

Nothing so commonplace
as a mother-in-law, surely.

No, they're both dead.

Her father was English.
Her mother is Spaniard.

They died before I met Beatrice.

And what was an old Harrovian
doing on the Amazon?

You ought to have been governing
the empire.

I've spent the last two years
in South America

collecting specimens and so on.

You must forgive
my lack of a decanter,

but Finch broke it a year ago.

I forgot to stop it
from his wages.

Try it.

Not too poisonous?

- Very good.
- Good.

To Mrs. Selby.

To Beatrice.

You were in South America?

Yes, well, I met Beatrice
and her elder sister, Edith --

Also beautiful?

Also very handsome.

Beauty is in the eye
of the husband.

The thing is...

The one thing.

...their uncle made
this extraordinary will.

You see, there's a half-brother,

much older
than Beatrice and Edith.

The girls have nothing to do
with him.

- A bad lot?
- I gather.

Anyway, this uncle --
a Brazilian --

left his money -- or at least
the annual income from it --

divided equally between
the two girls and the brother,

but not the capital.

That is to go --
the whole of it --

to whichever of the three
survives the other two --

an insane arrangement.

Perfectly insane.

But, I believe,
quite common in Brazil.

How much was the uncle worth?

Over two million sterling.

By Jove, what a sum.

Now, Beatrice is almost 21,

and then she is to receive
her income direct.

But for her to get the money,

this wretched half-brother
has to sign certain papers.

It's a formality --

Well, what's the matter?
Won't he sign, or what?

We can't find him.

No one can find him.

Jack, is that the only reason
you want me to find

this wretched
half-brother-in-law of yours?

I mean, if I myself were an
inheritor under a will like that

and I were a bad lot,

I should make confoundedly sure

that the other two died first,
wouldn't you?

Good afternoon, Mr. Druce.

How very nice of you to come.

Enchanted to meet you,
Mrs. Selby.

Jack has told me all about you.

You were his hero
when he was small.

I thrashed him
from time to time,

if that makes a man a hero.

Oh, poor Jack.

I also taught him how to make
tea and how to toast muffins.

Tea you shall have and muffins,
too, but not made by Jack.

He is no longer allowed
to do such things.

My main reason
for getting married.

Don't I know?

I have condemned him
to be idle and decorative.

It suits him,
but first I must find Edith.

She was closeted
with Madame Sara,

discussing their mysteries,

which are so mysterious
I hardly dared intrude.

Jack,
you will be useful for once.

You will entertain Mr. Druce
with manly conversation.

You were right.
You've done remarkably well.

Yes, haven't I?

Who is the mysterious
Madame Sara?

You'll meet her.

I'll be interested to know
what you make of her.

Aha.
The cablegrams.

Here they are.

"Watch over your wife
and her sister.

Above all, guard against danger
or poison."

And the others saying
pretty much the same thing.

And all signed "Amigo."

Spanish for "friend."

Does this suggest anyone to you?

No.

The first sent from Rio,

the second...from Lausanne,

the third from Berlin.

Does that suggest anything?

Not to me.

Why should your Spanish friend

travel from Brazil to Lausanne
and then Berlin?

Unless he is a rich man
suffering from a heart disease.

A what? Why?

The best head specialist
in the world lives in Lausanne,

the second-greatest in Berlin,

the third and fourth --
I am happy to say --

in London, and coming up fast.

I don't think I know any
rich men with heart diseases.

Well,
we must find your friend,

and when we do, we shall ask him
a very simple question.

But if he wanted to be found,
he would have signed his name.

I can guarantee to find
any man in England,

dead or alive,

within seven days.

Any man in Europe may take
a few days longer.

You mean that?

Werner's agency
has very good connections.

Well, I wish you'd find
their precious half-brother.

Henry Joachim Silva.

A good name for a bad lot.

Of course, I've said nothing
to Bea or to Edith.

Tea will be here in a moment.

Edith, you must meet Mr. Druce.

He is one of Jack's
oldest friends

and almost as good-looking.

Mr. Druce, Miss Edith Dallas.

How do you do?

How do you do?

Your sister is a flatterer,
but delightful.

A delightful child.

And will retain that quality
till the end of her life.

I pray that she may.

No, no, no, no, no!

We can't have tea
till Madame Sara is here.

Edith, what did you do with her?

She is coming.

Mr. Druce,
do you know Madame Sara?

Perhaps not.
You're a man.

Every woman in London knows her.

Every wealthy, vain woman.

Jack, that is unfair.

We are not vain, are we, Edith?

You are not.

And Madame Sara is our friend.

She came to Paré many times

and always stayed
at our house there.

We adore her, don't we, Edith?

She's wonderful.

Wonderful and...

Mysterious?

Oh, yes.

Mr. Druce,
do you think we are beautiful?

I think you are both
very beautiful.

And so we are,

but in a moment
you'll have no eyes for us,

only for Madame Sara.

Well, what did I tell you?

Sara is here.
Now we can all have tea.

Mr. Druce.

Madame.

I have always
wanted to meet you,

but how strange
to meet you here.

Was it really accidental?

I'm afraid I don't understand.

I know who you are, Mr. Druce.

Your business is finding out
the secrets

of people who wish them
to be secrets.

And yours, madame?

My business depends on
no one ever finding out.

So perhaps we are enemies.

I devoutly hope not.

I am making too much
of a mystery.

I have a little shop
in the Strand,

a perfumery shop,
called by my name.

And the composition
of your perfumes --

No one knows them but myself.

I should not dream
of even trying to find out.

And other things, too,
all sons of innocent secrets

that bring me in
gold of the realm.

I scour the whole world
for them.

Beatrice may have told you.
I have often been in Pare.

Yes.
No sugar.

I have found things there --
not for perfumes --

from the natives of Brazil
that have done much to --

What shall I say? --
to improve my trade.

So, your trade is --

I make women young
and beautiful.

Aha.

Men, too, if they wish.

You have no need of me yet,
Mr. Druce,

but one day
you may find yourself

wanting to keep back the years.

In which case,
I shall certainly come to you.

I am glad.

You are your own
best advertisement.

Yes.

Perhaps.

But you must come to my shop
very soon.

As soon as you allow me.

Beatrice or Edith
will bring you.

Are they your clients,
as well as your friends?

Beatrice has very little need
of me yet.

Edith believes she has.

Poor girl.

I can help her face
and her form,

but I can do nothing
to improve her mind.

And it is there
that beauty lies...

beyond my power.

Do you know where we are?

From a side entrance,

in a room at the back
of Madame Sara's shop,

where she...
sells to private customers?

We are on the threshold
of a magician's cave.

We are about to enter the most
magical place in London.

Should I be afraid?

You have kept your promise.

Edith.

Madame Sara.

- Mr. Druce.
- Madame.

I had thought
that you might fail me.

Never.

Edith, you have seen everything
there is to see here.

You will not mind waiting
while I show Mr. Druce?

No, Madame Sara,
if you wish me to wait.

Thank you, Edith.

Mr. Druce, shall I admit you?

You are friend or enemy?

I do not know you
well enough yet.

Friend.

When the doors close, they lock
themselves automatically,

and only I can open them.

My room, Mr. Druce --

lighted, but not from the sky,

cool, but not from the wind,

closed when I wish it to be

or when my clients
wish to be private.

And what about your servants?

My helpers?
Yes, my servants.

The Arab has been with me
a number of years.

The Brazilian is new.

I do not know if I've
trained him well enough yet.

In the business
of beautification?

Yes.

To make a woman beautiful,

I must use cosmetics, perhaps,
drugs, perhaps?

Oh, yes,
there are innocent drugs,

if you can find them
and use them.

Read your history, Mr. Druce,

history which keeps
the recipes a secret.

Surgery, perhaps?

Oh, yes, I am a doctor.
I am also a surgeon.

Your eyes say,
"But are you a quack?"

Yes, perhaps.
I don't know.

I must apologize for my eyes.

Tell them I have every degree
they could wish for.

And as a dentist, too, I am
the best for beautiful women.

I can mend a tooth
without spoiling a smile.

Even little Beatrice
has been to me for that,

not to mention four countesses,
three duchesses.

Sara, I believe you.

I am glad I have become Sara.

"Madame"
is only my business name.

Sara...

I willingly believe
you can do anything.

Almost anything.

Dixon.

Later.

She sings divinely.

Mr. Druce.

Mr. Druce, she is --

Miss Dallas,
why are you afraid of her?

Afraid?

Why are you afraid of her?

Whatever else,
you are afraid of her.

Dixon --

I have had five days.

I have not yet found
your half-brother-in-law,

nor have I found "Amigo,"

but I shall find them, and soon.

- If more money would help --
- More money would not help.

Are you in love
with Madame Sara?

Yes...in a way.

Heaven help you.

I need someone or something
to help me.

Edith,
you must go to the country.

You must go out of London
as soon as you can.

Yes.

Selby and Beatrice
are going tomorrow.

Are you going with them?

Yes.

The best thing you can do,
my dear.

Congratulations on your singing.

Thank you.

You almost succeeded in
hypnotizing me...and Edith.

We must help to look
after Edith.

As best we can.

It is the end of the season.
Everyone is tired.

She's young.
She will be well again soon.

Let us hope.

Well, I know what I think it is.

You tell me --
what do you see there?

Oh, and do stop pacing about,
for God's sake.

Sorry.
No competition this morning.

Why not?

I cannot bring myself even
to look through a microscope

until I'm --

Till you receive a message

that Mr. and Mrs. Selby
and Miss Dallas

are safely off to Hampshire.

Exactly.

Well, they're not going
till this afternoon,

so you won't receive the message
this morning.

Just apply your eye to this,

and I'll tell you
what I take it to be.

- Excuse me, sir.
- Aha!

A message
by a special messenger, sir.

It's from Mr. Selby.

It's marked "urgent."

Have they gone already?

Bad news?

It concerns you, too.

- Me?
- You're Scotland Yard.

"My dear Druce,
come as fast as you can.

Edith is dead."

We had breakfast
about half past 9:00.

I was the first one down.
I started eating.

Eating what, Mr. Selby?

Porridge and cream, cold meats.

Which meats?

Ham, tongue.

And then Edith came in.

She said she was hungry.

So I asked her what she wanted.

She said kidneys, a sausage,
a scrambled egg,

and sol helped her.

And while I was giving it
to her, Beatrice came in.

And she had?

Well, Beatrice -- Beatrice
just had toast and honey.

And...anything else?
To drink?

We all had coffee.

The Brazilian thing, you know --
coffee with cream and sugar.

No servants present?

No, we always helped ourselves
at breakfast.

- But you helped Miss Dallas.
- Yes.

And she had kidney, sausage,
scrambled egg,

coffee, cream, toast?

Yes.

- Butter?
- Yes.

Anything else?

No, I don't think so.
I'm sure not.

I should like to see
the servants.

What?

The ones who cooked it
and brought it in.

But you can't possibly think --

They've been with my family
for years, all of them.

I should still like to see them,
Mr. Selby,

one at a time,
after I've seen your wife.

I'm afraid Beatrice isn't really
fit enough to be seen.

This has been a great shock
to her.

She and Edith were so close.

Because they were so close,

she's the very best person
to tell me

of Miss Dallas' frame of mind.

I can tell you that.

We had a reception here
last night and --

Thank you, Mr. Selby.

I should still like to hear it
from your wife.

I'll see you later.

Where are you going?

My dear Vandeleur, you will
call in your postmortem experts,

your forensic chemists.

They'll analyze
every single possible mouthful.

I hope you'll check
the results with me.

- Your men aren't always right.
- Where are you going?

There's someone
who might give a better clue

as to Edith's frame of mind.

Even if she is with a client,
even a very important client,

tell her I must see her now.

Tell her Edith Dallas is dead!

Madame Sara.

Tell Lady Prenning she must wait
for a time.

Edith dead?

Yes.

When? How?

This morning.

- Poison.
- No.

Do you know of any reason

why Miss Dallas should have
taken her own life?

I can't believe it.

No, nor can I.

She told me
that you terrified her.

Oh, yes.

She worshipped me and hated me.

With reason?

With Edith, it was never
a question of reason.

She lived by her emotions,
which were strong and secret.

You must understand this,
Mr. Druce.

Edith's mother
was a very beautiful woman,

very much courted.

Men died for the love of her.

Edith lived under her shadow.

When at last
the shadow was lifted,

Beatrice was already
a beautiful girl,

very much courted,

with a gift for attracting men
which Edith had not.

I begin to see.

A handsome young man named Selby
arrived in Para.

To Edith, he gave a polite bow.

To Beatrice, he gave his heart
and married her,

leaving Edith an old maid.

Hardly old.

Feeling old and unloved.

Why was she so terrified of you?

She believed
that I was a sorceress.

So, you helped her
with your...sorcery.

Yes.

What treatment
did you give her --

cosmetics
or your innocent drugs?

Mr. Druce, have you come
to the point at last?

I beg your pardon?

Do you wonder if perhaps
I poisoned poor Edith?

I have no reason to believe
anything but good of you.

Fetch me Miss Dallas' book.

I keep a book for each
of my clients, a record.

You will see that Edith
came to me a month ago

to have a tooth stopped
that she --

Sara,
I have no reason to believe --

I want you to be sure
you have no reason.

Sara, I assure you --

Thank you.

Take it, Mr. Druce.

I have no further need of it.

Thank you.

I shall go to Lady Prenning,

who by now is much too hot
and rather angry.

May I ask you two more questions
quickly?

Did you know
Henry Joachim Silva?

Yes.

A bad man?

A foolish man, a weak man,

a drinker, a gambler,
but not a poisoner.

In the first place,
he would not dare.

In the second place,
he would not know how.

What is the next question?

Will you dine with me?

I shall come to visit you
at your laboratory.

I should like to see that.

But dine?

Not until you have found out
what is to be found out.

I'm ashamed to say

that I've come to precisely
the same conclusions

as your amateur analysts
at Scotland Yard.

In other words,
you don't know, either.

Well, it is a toxic alkaloid.

It's -- It's very like hyoscine.

-It's not hyoscine.
-It's not hyoscine.

Hyoscine?

Scopolamine is obtained from any
number of solanaoeous plants,

such as henbane,
deadly nightshade --

Grand, old, English plants.

Well, this certainly didn't come
from any English plants,

nor from any plant
I've ever heard of.

A Brazilian plant, perhaps, from
the upper reaches of the Amazon.

Well,
that is perfectly possible,

but, Vandeleur, look --

this poison is so potent,
so violent,

that even the smallest dose

would cause
almost instant death.

Yes.

Miss Dallas died in --
How long?

10 to 12 minutes
after leaving the table.

She must have swallowed
that poison

only a moment or two

before she jumped up
and ran from the room...

She must have.

...while she was eating --
almost finishing her breakfast.

Yes.

Yet there was no trace of poison
in the remains of the breakfast.

None whatsoever.

Therefore --

Therefore the poison

was in a morsel of the food
she had already consumed,

in one single mouthful.

Well, how the devil
do you put poison

into a single mouthful
of sausage?

I don't know.

But Mr. Selby
selected the sausage.

What?

Mr. Selby, the naturalist...

who came back with specimens,
I think you said.

I don't believe it.

Because he's an old Harrovian?

The cook or the servants
could have --

Why should I suspect
the servants?

They didn't know
what she was going to eat.

10 or 12 dishes to choose from.

Some mornings she had haddock,
other mornings ptarmigan.

And they weren't even here
to help her choose.

And not a trace of poison
anywhere,

except in that
one single mouthful.

Perhaps I didn't do enough
to form his character.

All right.

Henry Joachim Silva
has the best possible motive.

Two lives stand between him

and the inheritance of a couple
of million sterling.

One has now been taken.

Yes, but --

But your fag at Harrow,
Jack Selby.

Oh, look at it, Druce.

Silva was a good deal older
than the girls.

Silva must be about 40.

So,
in the natural way of things,

the best chance of inheritance

lies between Miss Dallas
and Mrs. Selby.

And I've no doubt that Selby
knew that when he married her.

Of course Silva has
the best possible motive,

but how did he do it?

From afar?

He puts poison
into a single mouthful of food

in a house in Eaton Square?

I have the reports
from my associates.

Silva left Rio by boat

the day after the first
"Amigo" cable was sent.

He was at the Grand in Lausanne
the day the second was sent.

He was staying at the Adlon
in Berlin

the day the third was sent.

So,
Silva is "Amigo," the friend.

It looks like it.

If he sent those warnings...

They did not prevent
Edith's death.

...they seem to show
his innocence.

They help to prove his alibi.

- Not the same thing.
- No.

But where is Silva now?

Well, he's left Berlin
for God knows where.

The inquest should cause quite
a stir in the popular press.

We can make sure it does.

Mysterious death,
missing stepbrother.

"Continental papers
please copy."

That should bring him to light.
In the meantime...

After the inquest, Jack Selby is
taking his wife to the country.

If Mr. Selby is the murderer,

then Mrs. Selby is in no danger.

If he's not, she's in
very grave danger indeed.

We must assume the grave danger.

I'm withdrawing
the two policemen

I've had here till now

and placing two detectives
into your household.

Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Selby.
They'll be in plainclothes.

They'll simply act as servants.

As long as nothing can happen
to you without their knowledge,

you'll be safe.

I shall make sure that Beatrice
eats nothing and drinks nothing

without my tasting it first.

That is very courageous of you,
Mr. Selby.

Not at all.

Do you have a loaded revolver?

Yes. Why?

It did cross my mind

that if someone was trying to
kill both sisters,

they might not use
the same method twice.

I shall carry it.

Please do.

But you must find Henry.

Mrs. Selby, go to the country.
I'll do my best.

If he's really our friend,
then he knows something.

If he's not our friend --

I'm sorry.
I am trying.

Yes, Mr. Druce, I know.

If he is your friend,

I'm in hopes that by now
he may have read --

given he reads the newspapers
and --

Yes, come in.

Excuse me, sir.

A private messenger
from the Norfolk Hotel.

He asked you should have that
at once.

Tell the messenger to wait.

Yes, sir.

The master said,
"Can you please wait?"

You can call off the hunt.

Henry Silva is found.

Mr. Silva, Mr. Selby is here.

Gentlemen,
will you please come in?

Mr. Selby.

May I introduce my friends?

Mr. Druce.
Mr. Vandeleur.

How do you do, gentlemen?
Please do sit down.

I beg of you
not to tire yourself.

Sanchez, I must talk with them.

Gentlemen,
will you please sit down?

You understand,
I am Mr. Silva's physician.

I must make sure that he does
not go beyond his resources.

Sanchez, Sanchez, please --

- For your own good, Mr. Silva.
- Please, Sanchez, please.

I have heard that Edith is dead.
Is this true?

Yes.

I am gum)'-

What?

I am as guilty as a man can be

who did not himself
do this deed.

Mr. Silva, please.

Gentlemen, let me explain.

You may have heard that I am
a great gambler, and it's true.

Gambling was a madness
with me...

until one night in Rio
I met a man called José Aranjo.

He, too, was a gambler.

But he was more skillful
than me.

Throughout one night,
we played alone,

and the stakes were high.

By morning, I had lost to him
nearly £200,000.

Now, gentlemen, I am a wealthy
man in point of income,

but I did not have such money.

Aranjo --
he knew my financial position.

So he said that he would gamble

on my inheriting
my uncle's fortune.

He made me sign a paper

which was witnessed
and attested by a lawyer

in which I promised
that if I inherited the fortune,

a half a million pounds
would go to José Aranjo.

You all say
that I was mad to do this,

but I did not honestly believe

that I would be
the one to survive

except by some
extraordinary accident.

It was a good bet.

For me a very good bet.

But then -- then I discovered
that Aranjo had left Rio.

And I began to learn things
about him

I had not known before.

I learned that he was
as cruel as he was clever,

that his parents
were half-Indian,

that he himself,
living in the jungle,

had learned from the Indians
wonderful secrets of poisoning.

Poisoning?!

Yes, secrets that are
not known here in the West.

Aranjo had disappeared,

but I now knew that I had placed
the lives of my two dear sisters

between this -- this evil man
and a fortune.

Did you send me the cablegrams?

Yes.

I did not have the courage
to sign my name.

I was ashamed to confess
the truth.

How is your heart, Mr. Silva?

I have a large aneurysm
of the heart.

You've been to Lausanne
and to Berlin, I believe?

Yes.

I have been to the best
specialists in the world,

but they can do nothing for me.

They tell me
I will not live one month.

Which means?

Which means that until I am
safely dead, Mr. Selby...

your wife is in mortal danger.

Madame Sara to see you, sir.

Show her in, Finch.

Thank you, sir.

Would you come this way, madame?

Sara,
how wonderful to see you here.

I promised to come.
It is a return visit.

Let me show you round,
as you did me.

So, this is where
you find things out.

Where I try.

What have you found out
about poor Edith?

Nothing, I'm afraid.

Nothing that you can tell me.

All we know for certain is we
cannot bring Edith back to life,

and we must make sure
that Beatrice goes on living.

Yes.

Jack and Beatrice are off
to the country this afternoon

in a closed compartment with the
blinds drawn, two detectives.

They're as safe
as we can make them,

for the time being, at least.

I've turned my mind
to another person.

Who?

You.

Show me things.

Let me look
through your microscope.

What would you like to see?

Anything.
You must choose.

Something that makes
a pretty pattern.

I am a woman.
Amuse me.

I must confess I've never
thought of my slides

from that point of view before,
but...

Yes,
I think this one will serve.

Do you know how to...

Oh, yes, very well.

Mr. Druce,
that is not at all pretty.

- Do you know what it is?
- A tiny drop of a solution.

Yes?

Of the poison
that killed poor Edith.

You knew.

No, no, I beg your pardon.

You're much cleverer than that.
You guessed.

Of course.

You guessed that that was what
I would choose to show you.

I guessed
that if I gave you the chance,

you would try to catch me
off my guard.

And that was why
you gave me the chance.

But you must understand
that I have no guard.

So you cannot catch me off it.

I shall never try again.

You must forgive me.
It was unworthy.

I have nothing to hide.

Tell me, did you find out
what was to be found out?

You are indeed highly qualified

in medicine, surgery, dentistry,
et cetera.

I told you.

Shall I tell you the dates

of your degrees and diplomas
from London, Paris, Rome --

Women do not care for dates.

No.

There's a conspiracy of silence
amongst women.

Edith or Beatrice
could have told you

the most significant date.

Which is?

I was a bridesmaid
at their mother's wedding.

I have always been the same.

I shall always be the same.

I have no fear of age.

That is why you fascinated Edith
and terrified her.

Yes.

Do I terrify you, Mr. Druce?

Madame Sara,
will you dine with me?

If you still wish.

I still wish.

You must not let Queen Victoria
hear you say that.

Typical of my nation --
plodding, methodical.

Nonsense.

Powerful, great.

Unimaginative.

Nonsense. You are a creature
of instinct, like me.

I gather every piece
of information

which can possibly have
a bearing --

And you put it together
like a jigsaw puzzle.

More like --
like a play, a drama.

A five-act tragedy?

The only advantage
of being English.

We have a classical education
thrashed into us.

Learning is always painful.

I was crammed with Aristotle,
the "Poetics."

He says one should always prefer

that which is probable
but impossible

to that which is possible
but improbable.

Aristotle was a wise man.

I wish I could be 1X10
as wise about this case.

- The probability is clear.
- Crystal clear.

Someone is after
that mass of money.

Yes?

But the impossibility
is equally clear.

No probable person

could possibly have killed
Edith Dallas.

But you must prefer
that which is impossible.

Are you offering me advice
for the first time?

I'm simply agreeing with you.

You agree with me...
marvelously well.

Finch?

Finch!

Sir?

What the devil
are you doing undressed?

It's 4:00 in the morning, sir.

Sit down, man.

- Where, sir?
- Anywhere!

Finch, I'm going to talk to you.

Yes, sir.

You don't have to answer.
You don't have to say a thing.

You can throw in an "ooh" or
an "ahh" if you feel you must,

but the whole point
is I can't talk to nobody.

And I'm not quite mad enough yet
to talk to myself.

Now,
Edith Dallas died of poison.

Did she commit suicide?
No, I cannot believe it. Why?

Because I cannot conceive

that anyone would
voluntarily choose to die

in excruciating agony

immediately after consuming what
was, after all, for a lady,

an extremely hearty breakfast.

Now, the poison was so potent

it would have
an immediate effect.

Therefore
it must have been swallowed

while she was eating
that breakfast.

Yet there was no trace of poison
in the remains of the breakfast,

not in the other food.

Therefore
it must have been contained

in one single mouthful.

Yes.

Yes.
Yes, of course!

I mean, Jack Selby could have
put it there.

Yes, he could have -- what? --

injected it into one of
the kidneys or whatever

while he was standing
at the side table,

spooning the stuff
onto Edith's plate.

Yes, it is --
it is perfectly possible.

But it is improbable.

Why?

No, no, not because
Jack Selby's a friend,

but because the murderer must
necessarily have been cruel,

ruthless, cunning.

Now, if Selby had been that man,
wanting to poison Edith,

living in the same house
with her,

under no pressure,
no urgency --

only supposing, of course,

he had to kill Edith
before Beatrice --

then he surely would not have
chosen the one moment

when only he could have done it.

- No.
- No!

Cruel, ruthless, cunning.

Now, the description
seems to fit Señor José Aranjo,

but how could he have put
the poison there?

Well, it's quite simple.
He couldn't.

Perhaps he wasn't there at all.

Perhaps it wasn't even
in the breakfast.

No, perhaps it was somehow...

- Finch! I've got it!
- What, sir?

Take a telegram -- to Mr. Selby
at his country address.

"Prohibit all food
until I arrive. Stop.

Am coming down.
Signed, Druce."

- Have you got it?
- Yes, sir.

Now off you go.

Go immediately to the --
to -- to the telegraph office.

Then go to Paddington.

If there's no early-morning
express to Cronsmoor,

hire me a special train.

Then go to Mr. Vandeleur's house

and tell him what's happening
and ask him to join me.

Now, off you go.

- As I am, sir?
- As you are!

Damn it,
there's no time to lose!

Beatrice?

Beatrice!

- What has happened?
- Don't be alarmed.

You're going to be quite safe,
safe forever.

But the telegram.

You can trust him,
whatever he does.

Listen to me, Beatrice.

You went to Madame Sara's once
for treatment.

When was that?

About three weeks ago.

And what was it for?

One of my teeth ached.

Well, Sara is the most
marvelous dentist.

Edith had been to her
only the week before.

She examined my tooth
and said it needed stopping.

And so she did it?

She drilled the hole.
She was marvelous.

It didn't hurt at all.

And put the stopping in?

One of her assistants did that.

And the tooth has been
quite comfortable ever since?

Yes, quite.

Will you show me
which one it was?

This one.

This one here?
You're quite sure?

Yes, quite.

Would you mind
opening your mouth

just as wide as you possibly can

to let me have
a really good look at it?

There's no need to be alarmed,
Beatrice.

I'll explain the whole thing
to you afterwards.

I see.

Yes, this one here.

Aah!

Aah! Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

Jack, get your wife's maid
to look after her

and come back here straightaway.

You must lie down for a time
now, darling.

But it's all over now.

And Dixon Druce
has saved your life.

A bad business.

If I am correct,
as I hope to heaven I am,

or I have spoiled Mrs. Selby's
beauty for nothing.

Right, then.

I will say this for Finch.

He's the one man in London

who could procure a guinea pig
at 5:00 in the morning.

- Dead?
- Dead.

Well...we have to pay
two calls now,

both at the same time.

Which to pay to which?

I think you know which.

Mr. Vandeleur, Mr. Selby.

Actually, Inspector Vandeleur
of Scotland Yard.

- Scotland Yard?
- Yes, Mr. Silva.

I didn't mention that
on my first visit.

Well, we've discovered
how Miss Dallas was killed

and how Mrs. Selby
came precious close to it.

Aranjo.

Well, we're doing our best to
locate Señor José Aranjo --

a common Brazilian name,
I believe.

Do you happen to have a copy

of that document
he got you to sign?

Oh, no.

Pity.
It might have helped us.

Never mind.

You've been kind enough
to tell us of your movements --

Lausanne and then Berlin
and then Ostend for a rest

and then here
after Miss Dallas' death.

Yes.

I've sent telegrams
to Dr. Magritte in Lausanne

and to Dr. Oesterreicher
in Berlin...

...asking them
if you did consult them

and, if so,
what the results were.

But why?

If Mrs. Selby had died --
and she very nearly did --

you would have returned
to Brazil

and collected £2 million.

It did cross my mind

that you might, thereafter,
have got well again.

I tell you I am a dying man.

Mr. Si Iva,
you must not excite yourself.

You are, yes,
but in view of the fact

that England has no agreement
with Brazil

for the extradition
of a Brazilian citizen,

I wonder if you'd mind very much

if I asked the two leading heart
specialists in this country

to have a look at you.

Mr. Selby, please.

Gentlemen, thank you.

Mr. Druce, it is always
delightful to see you,

but not now.

The Duchess of Flint
has an appointment.

The duchess can wait.
Send your men away.

You are brusque.

Yes.

Edith Dallas had a tooth stopped
here a month or so ago,

Beatrice the same
a week later.

Yes.

In both cases,
the drilling by you,

the stopping by your assistant.

I always let them do
the stoppings.

It is simple work, and I have
better things to do.

In both cases, poison
was inserted into the cavity

and held in by gutta-percha.

What?
That cannot be true.

Is it true?

The gutta-percha stopping

would be certain to come out
within a month,

probably while masticating food,

and then the poison would kill
in a very few minutes.

And who would connect the death

with a visit to the dentist
a month or so before?

So, I had thought of something
like it, but not this.

The assistant was a Brazilian
called De Flores.

Yes,
he was with me a few weeks only.

I dismissed him.

Where is he now?

He must be back in Brazil now.

Where he'd be safe
from British justice.

He was a very good dentist.

I dismissed him because,
rightly or wrongly,

I suspected that he was in
the pay of Aranjo.

José Aranjo, a very bad man.

José Aranjo may or may not exist,

but the person who undeniably
exists is Henry Joachim Silva.

Silva?
But what has he to do with this?

The thought struck me, Sara,

that since you, with your drugs
and your ointments

can make a woman look young
and well and radiant,

you might also have drugs
and ointments

to make a man look old and sick
and on the point of death --

that and the dentistry

for an overall fee
of a million sterling?

Is that a question?

If it is,
should it be asked by you

or by your friends
at Scotland Yard?

The police are outside,
waiting to see you.

I have nothing to fear
from the police.

Shall we go to them?

Sara.

I am innocent of any crime,

and all the great detectives
in the world

cannot prove otherwise.

May I put a thought
into your mind?

Innocent or guilty,

you will be arrested
on suspicion.

You will be held in custody

while the police pursue
their inquiries.

The inquiries may take
a long time.

The rules of custody are hard.

You will certainly
not be allowed access

to your habitual drugs
and ointments.

On the other hand,
if you were to help the police

by volunteering to give evidence
for the Crown...

I should hate to see you
suddenly old.

Thank you for the thought,
Mr. Druce.

I shall consider it.

I imagine we shall not dine
together again.

I regret it.

So do I.

Subtitles ripped & OCR'd
by marooned2