01x07 - Madame Sara

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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 1 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 f*g!

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 g*nsh*t 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 d*ed 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 d*ed 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, dr*gs, perhaps?

Oh, yes, there are innocent dr*gs, 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: .

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 d*ed 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 dr*gs?

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 d*ed in -- How long?

1 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.

1 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 f*g at Harrow, Jack Selby.

Oh, look at it, Druce.

Silva was a good deal older than the girls.

Silva must be about 4 .

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 m*rder*r, 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 k*ll 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 £2 , .

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 k*lled 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 1X1 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 k*lled 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: 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 d*ed of poison.

Did she commit su1c1de?

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 m*rder*r 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 k*ll 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: 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 k*lled 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 d*ed -- 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 k*ll 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 dr*gs and your ointments can make a woman look young and well and radiant, you might also have dr*gs 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 dr*gs 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.