02x03 - The Lost Mine

[bunniefuu]

Community Chest.

"You've won second prize
in a beauty contest.

Collect ?10."

Thank you very much, Hastings.

It would appear that skill

plays but a little part
in this game, huh?

It's all about skill --
what to buy and when...

where to put your property.

My name is Wu Ling.

Han Wu Ling.
I have a reservation.

Ah, yes.

Mr. Wu Ling, uh, Room 306.

You have a box
of matches, please?

Certainly, sir.

If you wouldn't mind, sir.

I will build a hotel
on Fenchurch Street.

You can't build a hotel
on a railway station.

Do not be absurd, Hastings.

There are plenty of hotels
at railway stations.

But... that's not in the rules.

Well, then, Hastings,
the rules are wrong!

Houses and hotels
cannot be mortgaged?

"All buildings at the site
must be sold back to the bank

before the property
can be mortgaged.

The bank will pay one-half
of what was paid for them."

That is insane, quite insane.

Oh, the signs had been
there in the markets for months.

A fool
could have seen it coming.

I'm not surprised
they went under.

Another tragedy
on the Serpentine?

Another su1c1de, Mr. Poirot.

The Imperial Trust collapse.

It's hardly
been out of the news.

Big investment company.

Promised its shareholders
100% dividend.

They took a straight nosedive.

A lot of folk have been
completely wiped out.

Well, if you put your head
in the mouth of a lion,

you cannot complain if one day
he bites it off, huh?

I say -- R.T. Zebs at 7 and 6.

Do you think I should switch now
or hold tight a little longer?

Well, my view is that they're --

I am off now to the bank.

I shall return at lunchtime.

Never made a speculative
investment in his life.

And I still have my head,
Hastings.

-Good morning.
-Good morning.

-Glad you could make it.
-Not at all.

Hello.
How's the boy?

-Well, good.
-Fine, thank you.

Have Mr. Wu Ling sent straight
up here when he arrives.

Thank you.

Oh, there's a gentleman
called 'round to see you, sir.

He's in the lounge.

Thank you.

Perhaps we should
telephone his hotel.

Right.

St. James Hotel.

-Can I have my key, please?
-Yes?

Mr. Wu Ling?

Thank you.

Yes, he was around here
a moment ago.

If you'd like to hold on,
I'll go and have a look.

-My bill, please.
-One moment, sir.

Sir.

-Bonjour.
-Sir.

My name is Poirot.

I would like to ascertain,
if you please,

the exact balance in my account.

Here is my number.

All right. Certainly, sir.
One moment, please.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Mais non!
C'est impossible!

How can I be ?50 overdrawn?

It is a point of principle
that I always keep my balance

at ?444, 4 shillings,
and 4 pence.

A point of principle.

I shall check it once more, sir.

It's all right, sir.
He's here.

Wilkins is bringing him up now.

Oh, well,
thank goodness for that.

No. I --
No, this isn't Mr. Wu Ling.

I'm most dreadfully sorry.

There's been a misunderstanding.

I do apologize.
It's our fault.

I've rechecked the figures, sir,
and it's a mistake.

-You're not overdrawn by ?50.
-Ah.

I'm afraid you're overdrawn
by ?60.

There's no doubt this time,
I'm afraid, sir. It's --

Mon Dieu!
This is an outrage!

I shall take this
to the highest level!

Do you hear me?

Nobody makes Poirot look a fool
where money is concerned!

?100.

?200.

?300.

?400.

?500.

?600.

Not your night tonight, old man.

Perhaps it is because I do not
huff and puff all over the dice

like the wheezing grandpas.

-Mr. Poirot?
-Yes?

You have a visitor.

A visitor?
At this hour?

It's Lord Pearson...
from your bank.

Lord Pearson?
My bank?

Ah!

My bank!

Mr. Poirot,
I-I can't apologize enough.

I am very pleased
to hear you say so personally.

Oh, uh, yes, uh, I realize it's
a little late, but you see --

Not at all, not at all,
Lord Pearson.

It is better late than never,
as you English say.

Please do take a seat, huh?

And may I offer you a drink?

Oh, dry sherry.
Thank you. You see --

Hastings, a little something
for you, my friend?

Oh, fine.
Thank you.

This is a matter
of such vital concern to us all

that I don't think that I
or any of the bank's directors

will sleep easily in our beds
until it's been sorted out.

Well, I must admit that I had
not seen it in quite that light,

but, um, yes, Lord Pearson,
I have to agree with you.

It is certainly most vital.

Oh, you, uh...

You know about the disappearance
of Mr. Wu Ling, then?

M. Wu Ling?

Ah.

Hastings, be so kind as to
pour me a little brandy, hmm?

Do you have any idea
what this is, Mr. Poirot?

Some kind of mineral ore?

Not much to look at,

but smelt this down and burn off
the lead impurities,

and you're left holding a nugget
of top-grade 24-karat silver.

Indeed.

And this came from where?

About 200 miles inland
from Rangoon,

deep in the Burmese mountains.

There's an old mine.

The Chinese worked it
for 300 years, until 1878.

Then it collapsed,
became lost to view.

For half a century,
men have d*ed,

gone mad trying to find it again
to seize its riches.

So far it's eluded them all.

And this M. Ling, he has
some bearing on this lost mine?

It appears there's a map.

Of the mine's location?

It was handed down to Wu Ling
through his family.

This week he came here
to sell it to us.

Arrangements were made for him
to meet the board this morning

to discuss a price.

And he did not appear
as planned, huh?

Exactly.

And yet we know he arrived
off the boat at Southampton.

He got to the hotel all right,

and we know he left there
this morning around 10:00.

Since then -- I've checked --
he hasn't been seen or heard of.

Something's gone wrong,
Mr. Poirot.

I know something's gone wrong.

Hey, good time, Johnny?

Hey! Sailor!

Sailor Johnny.

I give you a good time.

Sailor, wait for me.

I'm nice girl.

I give you good time.

Come to my house.

Come to my house.
Come on, Johnny.

You like me.

I'm nice girl.

It's him, all right.

Han Wu Ling,
businessman from Rangoon.

That was the name in his wallet.

How can you be sure it is him,
Chief Inspector?

Burmese authorities
wired this photo over.

There was no sign of your map
on him, I'm afraid.

I see.

And he was stabbed in the back,
you say?

At least three times.

The wounds
were rather peculiar --

consistent with some sort
of curved Oriental Kn*fe

being used.

Ah, Lord Pearson.

I'm sorry to have called you
away from your engagement, sir.

But Mr. Poirot here says
you might be able to help us

with Mr. Ling's death.

You may rely on the Chief
Inspector Japp, Lord Pearson.

He is the soul of discretion.

How well did you know
this gentleman, sir?

Well, we've...
never actually met.

Of course, we'd corresponded
on a regular --

My God, I...

I just can't believe he's dead.

Do you suspect some kind
of Chinese ritual k*lling?

Let's just say we're in
treacherous waters here, Poirot,

very treacherous waters, indeed.

He seemed a quiet,
well-behaved sort of gentleman.

Oriental, of course.

I see.

And this room's
not been cleaned up

since the morning
he left the hotel?

Well, there's been a lot to do.

-We've been short of staff --
-No, no.

It is all the better
for the investigations

of the chief inspector.

Doesn't look hopeful.

Must have taken the map
with him.

There's nothing more
that I can --

Hello.

Hmm.

It's in Chinese, most of it.

Very sinister.

Ah, there's a name here
in English.

Charles Lester.

Business associate, maybe.

There's nothing else for us
in this room.

Come on, Poirot.

Uh, forgive me,
but, uh, did you not say

that upon the day
of his arrival,

M. Wu Ling asked you
for a box of matches?

Yes, to light his cigarette.

That is most curious...

as he already had a full box
in his suitcase.

Off you go.

Things are on the move, Poirot.

You've got a moment
to come and see

some modern police work
in action?

I think you'll find this
interesting, Poirot.

It's a good deal
more sophisticated

than anything they've got
on the continent.

This is where
it's all coordinated

with m*llitary precision.

The days of the bobby
on the bicycle

are long gone, I'm afraid.

My dear Japp,
this is truly most impressive.

Message understood.

Report as necessary.
Out.

What are they doing?

Surveillance, Poirot.

-Unit 7 to Control.
-We're on the trail of a --

7 to Control. Over.

Excuse me.

Control to Unit 7.

Reading you loud and clear.

State your position.
Over.

Control to Unit 7.

Subject located
at Chowcat Sauna,

Rupert Street, 0900 hours.
Over.

Unit 7, stay with him
and keep us informed.

Over and out.

It might be a false lead
or it might not.

We've been making inquiries
around that boat Wu Ling was on.

Found out he was seen
in the company of this man.

Reginald Dyer.

Huh. Twice convicted
of currency fraud.

And a known associate

of several criminal syndicates
in Hong Kong.

Could be just the link
we're looking for.

If he is, we'll have him.

There he is.

Unit 7 to Control.

Subject sighted emerging
from Chowcat Sauna.

Hailing cab.

Entering vehicle.

I'm awaiting instructions.
Over.

Stay on his tail, Unit 7,
and report your itinerary.

Unit 8.

Come in, Unit 8.
This is Control.

Unit 8 to Control.
8 to Control. Over.

Unit 8,
subject heading towards city.

Proceed to rendezvous point.
Over.

Message understood. Out.

Unit 8 to Control.
8 to Control.

I can see them now.
We're on their tail. Over.

Unit 10. Unit 10.

Join cars 7 and 8.

We'll be one step ahead of him
this time, all right.

You know where he's going, then?

No, but I fancy I can guess,
Captain Hastings.

Chinatown.

Subjected has alighted
and paid off taxi.

Subject seems to be waiting
for someone.

Subject being joined by two
Orientals, one with a briefcase.

Subject now being handed
briefcase.

It's a probable pickup.

Cars 8 and 10...

...are you in position?
Over.

Car 8 to Control.
In position now, sir. Over.

Car 10 to Control.
10 to Control.

Moving into position.
Over.

Subject moving on.

Steady, lads.
Wait for it.

Control to units 7, 8, and 10.

Get him!

Reginald Dyer?

I must ask you to accompany me
to the police station.

And I must warn you
that anything you say

will be taken down and may be
used in evidence against you.

We've got him.

Jolly good.

Good work, sir!

Jolly good.

Splendid, sir.

So you reckon this Reggie Dyer
k*lled our Mr. Ling?

I'll know more
when I've questioned him.

Are you coming along, Poirot?

The name you discovered
in the notebook of M. Ling?

Charles Lester? We've tried him
twice this morning. He was out.

Well, it may be
of no worth, but --

Be my guest.

For the moment, I've got
more important fish to fry.

Well, Hastings,
while the chief inspector

is frying his important fish,

let us see
what we can catch, huh?

Wu Ling, Wu Ling.

The name is one I recall.

Yes. Rangoon.

Right.

We'd done one or two deals
together.

I guess he was just planning
to look me up.

It'd be a natural thing to do.

And that's why he had my name
written down in his book.

And yet he had not contacted you

since his arrival
here in London.

You guys coming in here, this is
the first I've heard of it.

Well, I thank you for your time,
monsieur,

and we will disturb you
no longer.

I really wish
I could be more help.

I mean, I know you're like

one of England's top gumshoes,
right?

I admire your work greatly.

Thank you.

Oh, you wrote this, Mr. Lester.

Take it. My compliments.
You a speculator, too?

Well, I, uh, dabble --
you know, gilts, consoles.

Hastings?

Thank you.
I'll study it with interest.

Right, and if you want
me to suggest a few schemes,

my number is right
on the back -- no obligation.

Good day, M. Lester.

So long, Hercule.

My dear fellow, I don't
know anything about a map.

All I did was have a couple
of drinks with the chap

on the boat back from Hong Kong.

Does that make me a m*rder*r?

I suppose you won this
on the Irish sweepstake.

You've got nothing on me, Japp.

Not a single shred of evidence
to keep me here a minute longer.

Listen, Dyer, I'm going to nail
your grubby little hide

if it takes from now until --

Mr. Dyer's solicitor, sir.

Don't worry, Mr. Dyer.
This won't take long.

Do you recognize anybody
in these photographs?

Hmm.

They're not very good quality,
are they?

Never mind about the quality.

Is this the man who came
for Mr. Ling or isn't it?

No.

No, it's definitely not him.
Definitely not.

Hmm.

Well, stands to reason,
I suppose.

Dyer's too cunning
to show himself.

He'd have an accomplice.

Excuse me.

This M. Wu Ling, he spoke
with the American accent, yes?

Um...

Yes, I believe he did,
now you come to mention it.

Oh.

Thank you.

Shall we go?

American accent?

The Americans always put the
month before the date, Hastings.

Ah.

Yes, they're
very backward people.

You know, if you'll excuse me,
I think I'll just pop back

and have another word
with that chap Lester.

One or two of his schemes
look quite interesting.

I must just -- Oh, damn.

Excuse me.
I think one of you dropped this.

-Oh, thank you.
-You're welcome.

Well, I'll be damned.

Something is the matter,
monsieur?

It's him.
No question about it.

This is the fellow
that called to see Mr. Ling.

I, uh...

I guess I panicked. Uh...

When I read about the m*rder,
you see...

This kind of thing, it's, uh,
not exactly good for business.

Right now it's not exactly
good for you.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay, this guy Ling...

uh, I lied about doing
some deals with him before.

The fact is, I'd never met him.

I never heard of him before
in my life.

Suddenly he just, uh,
calls up out of the blue

and tells me he's just arrived
in the country

and he, uh, has something
I might be interested in.

And so you go
to meet him at his hotel?

We have one drink, and then
we go off in a cab somewhere --

some Chinese dive.

Well, uh, halfway
through the meal,

he gets up to go use the phone
and, uh, he never comes back.

That's the last
I ever saw of him.

This Chinese dive -- They can
verify your story, I hope.

Well...

I-I-I can't be exactly sure
where it was.

The body of M. Ling was found
in an alley near to the docks.

No.

No, it was, uh...
nowhere near the docks.

I would have remembered.

You have to believe me.
I-I didn't k*ll the guy.

I mean, why would I
want to k*ll him?

Mr. Lester?

Uh, I, uh --

I have to go out now,
uh, Miss Boerum.

Uh, I can't say
when I'll be back.

Chinatown -- that's the key
to this puzzle.

When we get to the root of it,
we'll find it's the Tongs.

Ah, the Tongs, oui.

Do you know how many years I've
been after those vermin now?

Seven.

Seven long years.

And this time they're not
going to slip the leash.

You seem very sure
of your ground, Chief Inspector.

Well, it all fits, doesn't it?

Reggie Dyer meets Ling
on the boat,

finds out about the lost mine,

sells the information
to these Oriental devils,

who then carve him up
and make off with the map,

scuttling back to their evil
nests down in the east end.

Not sure about this chap Lester.

He's a strange piece of work.

What do you say, Poirot?

In my opinion,
there is but one solution --

to build a house on Whitechapel.

Eh?

Whitechapel?
That's ambitious stuff, Poirot.

Quite certain?

Quite certain,
thank you, Hastings.

Yes, indeed, Chief Inspector.

There are curious features
about this case.

Par exemple, the cigarette stubs
in the ashtray of M. Wu Ling.

Cigarette stubs?

The color of the ends.
You observed it, of course.

Then there is the mystery
of the matches in the suitcase.

Why does a man with a full box
of matches

ask for another
to light his cigarette?

Why does he?

Well, when we know that,

no doubt we will have
our solution.

No doubt.

Well, good night, gentlemen.

Good night, Chief Inspector.

Inscrutable folk, the Chinese.

Quite so, Hastings.

Quite so.

Oh, has Chief Inspector Japp
gone?

He has left just this second.

There's a phone call for him
from a Mrs. Lester.

She sounds quite hysterical.

I will take it in here,
Miss Lemon.

Hello?
Mme. Lester?

Ma--

Madame, please,
try to be calm, huh?

It is Hercule Poirot.

Yes.

You are certain?

Your husband left his office
this afternoon by taxi

and he has not returned?

Ah. And to where
has he taken this taxi?

I see.

Chinatown.

You're absolutely sure?

Oh, yes.
They're peaking now.

But I've heard a whisper
they may be riding for a fall.

Right.

So sell the --

Miss Lemon?

Not one telephone call
this morning?

No.

This letter came second post.

Thank you.

So, what about the United Gold?

Well, that's
a pretty solid blue chip.

In fact, you could do
a lot worse than convert --

This is intolerable.

My check
to the telephone company --

It has been returned
by the bank.

They are threatening
to cut us off.

Miss Lemon, get me the chairman
of the telephone company

on the phone this instant.

I just do not understand it,
Hastings.

My financial affairs have always
been beyond reproach.

?444, 4 shillings, and 4 pence.

It is a point of principle,
and now this?

Is my name to be dragged
through the mud?

Good morning.
Is Mr. Poirot in?

Yes, uh, it's Mrs...

Lester.
Mrs. Charles Lester.

Car 1 to Control.
Car 1 to Control.

Proceeding to Chinatown district

to interview a Mr. Ho, known
associate of Reginald Dyer.

-Hey?
-Mm-hmm.

Afternoon, gents.

Sorry to break up the fun,

but there's one or two questions
we'd like to ask you.

We know Reggie Dyer's
a friend of yours.

We know you've done business
with him.

So let me put it this way,
Mr. Ho.

You will be wanting your license
for this place renewed?

Okay. Okay.

I'll tell you what I know
about Mr. Dyer.

I just want him back,
Mr. Poirot.

He's not an evil man.

I just wish I knew
what was going on.

All I ask, madame,
is that you tell me the truth

no matter how bad it may seem
for your husband.

Well...

he's been a changed man
for some months now.

Such different moods.

One moment so calm and relaxed,
and then suddenly --

Oh, God, if you could see him!

And then... yesterday morning,

I was going through
the wardrobe, and I found...

Yes, madame,
what is it that you found?

His dark-blue suit.

The trousers were damp
at the bottom, caked with dirt.

And then...

...this fell out of his jacket.

The passport of M. Wu Ling.

You said the truth, Mr. Poirot.

Yes, madame.

Come on, lads.

'Round the back.

Police.

Come on.

You wish to play,
Chief Inspector?

No, thank you.

Over here, sir.

Excuse me.

What's this?

What did our friend across
the road tell us, Jameson?

"The red eye," I think he said.

It's just a cellar, sir.

Storage facilities.

Really?

Oh, blimey.

What is it, sir?

Opium, Sergeant.

Passport to paradise.

Chow Feng, how's business?

Hello, Reggie.

Well, now, Reggie.

This is what I'd call
being caught in the act.

Look.

There's been some mistake.

Brought back one or two
holiday souvenirs

from the Far East, I see.

You're gonna need more
than a clever d*ck lawyer

to save your skin this time,
my boy.

Sir.

Don't we know him?

Yes.

His name's Lester.

It would appear
from this telegram

that Dyer has now been arrested
for the smuggling of opium,

and Lester also has been found
in the den.

That wraps it up, then.

Lester's already
lied to us once,

and what his wife told us
confirms it.

He m*rder*d Ling
and stole the map.

Case closed.

Yes.

?450, if you please, Hastings.

Of course, he's still
in a deep coma.

They will not be able to
question him for several hours.

Thank you.

Just one good throw --
That's all I need.

Ah.

A double.

Chance.

"Go to jail."

Wonderful.

You are right, Hastings.
It is indeed wonderful.

Suddenly the whole thing
has become perfectly clear.

Bien.

Where are we going now?

Officer.

Mr. Poirot?

Mr. Poirot!

Ah, Lord Pearson.

You have received my message.

Of course.

I came as soon as I could.
What's happened?

There have been one
or two developments, sir,

which I think you may be able
to help us with.

For certain, anything I can.

Do we have him at last?

Do we have the k*ller?

Oh, yes.

We have the k*ller, mon ami.

This man
is Mr. Charles Lester,

former business contact
of Wu Ling

and part-time opium addict.

A couple of hours ago,
we searched his office,

and we came up with this map,

which I'm sure you'll be able
to identify for us

as the map
to the lost silver mine.

Well, my Chinese isn't
very good, Chief Inspector,

but, uh, whatever this is,
it isn't the map to the mine.

It's more like some page
from an atlas or something.

An atlas?

Well, it looks like you
don't have a shred of evidence

to keep me here, Inspector.

Am I correct?

In which case,
I take it I'm free to go?

I think not, monsieur.

If you did not k*ll M. Wu Ling,

perhaps you can explain...

how your wife came to find this
in your jacket pocket?

I don't have any idea.

Look, I-I didn't k*ll this --

Of course he k*lled him!

There's your evidence right
there -- Wu Ling's passport.

But I did not say it was
the passport of M. Wu Ling,

my friend, so how could you
possibly have known?

Well, God damn it!
I can see what it is from here!

Indeed, but this is not
a passport, no.

It is a set of rules
for the game of Monopoly.

But you just...

Lord Pearson...

I'm afraid you're under arrest
for m*rder.

You set this whole thing up.

Brought me here
to identify the map.

But you already
have the map, mon ami.

You stole it from M. Wu Ling
on the very day of his arrival

when you had him brutally k*lled
by your Chinese thugs.

Oh, yes.

Lord Pearson
knows Chinatown well.

He himself likes to gamble
here in the Red Dragon,

where M. Lester is also
the frequent visitor

to the casino's opium dens.

Each night you satisfy
your passion for gambling,

Lord Pearson,
as each night M. Lester

satisfies his craving
for the drug.

Here, amidst the smoke and sweat
of the Red Dragon,

dark dreams are dreamed and dark
thoughts become the reality.

The weakness of the other man
begins to fascinate you.

And one evening when you
have gambled and lost

even more heavily than usual,

you see how to make use of it.

You devise a plan to frame
M. Lester for the crime.

First, you arrange
for one of your accomplices

to pose as M. Wu Ling
and check in at his hotel.

My name is Wu Ling.

Han Wu Ling.

I have a reservation.

In order to match M. Wu Ling,

he has to blacken the teeth,

and, of course,
the color comes off

on the end of the cigarettes.

You have a box of matches,
please?

He asks for a box of matches

because, of course, he does not
know that he already has one.

Remember,
it was not his suitcase.

The name and address
of M. Lester

is then carefully planted
into the notebook of M. Wu Ling

for the police to find later.

The next day, M. Lester
is summoned to the hotel,

believing it to be
the business meeting,

and knowing his weakness
for opium,

the accomplice lures him
to the Red Dragon.

Hopelessly drugged,
the poor M. Lester

is dumped beside the body
of M. Wu Ling...

...where you place
into his pocket

the passport of the victim.

He comes to.

He sees the body.

And what is he to think?

That he has committed m*rder
under the influence of the drug.

You see, my friend, you made
one little error early on,

which alerted my suspicion.

You told the security guard
at the bank,

"No, this is not M. Wu Ling."

No, this isn't Mr. Wu Ling.

An interesting statement,
n'est-ce pas?

From someone who claimed never
to have met him in his life.

Well, we've never actually met.

But it is not only here
in the Red Dragon

that you like to gamble,
Lord Pearson.

Also, I understand,
on the stock exchange, yes?

The collapse
of the Imperial Trust

must have hit you very hard.

And the sale of the map

would have more than compensated
for your losses.

Lord Pearson.

Good morning.

Good morning, Miss Lemon.

You're in the high spirits
today.

Yes. My shares are up
another 9 1/2 points.

-Isn't it wonderful?
-Ah.

I thought
I advised you to sell yesterday.

I know, but Mr. Poirot
advised me to wait.

Well, lunch is on.

Thank you very much, Miss Lemon.

Oh, Mr. Poirot.

I say...

Yes, Miss Lemon, the tables,

they have been turned around,
have they not?

No, no, this envelope.

This is the check
from Lord Avebury

for the naval secrets case.

This should have gone
into your account 10 days ago.

Miss Lemon,
you're in the right.

Ah! This is the reason
I am overdrawn.

I think I better
pop down to the bank

with this right away, don't you?

So, the bank's figures
were right after all, were they?

Usually are, I'm afraid.

Incroyable.

And to think, all this time...

Ah! Rent, Hastings.

?2,000, if you please.

Thank you.

You know, mon ami...

about this game,
you were right all the time.

It is the skill that counts
in the end.