Third Key, The (1956)

[bunniefuu]

[resounding gongs]

[suspenseful music]

[suspenseful music continues]

-[flips switch]

-Scotland Yard Information Room.

[suspenseful music]

[click]

-[flips switch]

-Scotland Yard Information Room.

[man 1] Burglars have entered the premises

of Stone and Company Long Acre Limited.

Telephone number is Kingsway 1-9-9-3.

Burglars have entered the premises

of Stone and Company Long Acre Limited.

-Telephone num--

-[shuts off]

-[man 2] I'm bringing three Q, sir.

-[man 3] Hello, three Q.

Hello, three Q, from MP.

[voice on radio]

Message from Information Room begins:

Long Acre.

Stone and Company Long Acre Limited.

Automatic alarm operating.

Suspect on premises.

[car approaching outside]

[car brakes]

No sign of anything inside, Skipper.

-Call the station, Fred.

-Right.

What's the trouble?

We're police officers.

Your alarm went off at the Yard.

Alarm?

There's nothing wrong here.

All clear at the back, Skipper.

You'd better come in

and see for yourselves.

[nightwatchman] This is

the only room fitted with an alarm.

Can't find anything wrong, Skipper.

You sure you didn't hear anything?

Not a sound. I just started my rounds

when you turned up.

All clear upstairs.

-I wonder what set it off.

-Short-circuit, perhaps.

Could be…

-Do you mind if I use your phone?

-Help yourself.

Fred, call Bow Street, will you?

-Now, what's your name?

-Clark. Leslie Clark.

-E on the end?

-No.

Where do you live?

He lives at 26 Matfield Street, WC2.

Yes. Leslie Clark. No E on the end.

Yes, that's correct.

No sign of break-in.

Apparently, short-circuit.

You want someone

sent along to reset the alarm.

There you are, gents. It's working again.

All ready for the next burglar

that comes along.

[laugh]

[repairman] Good night, all.

[Clark] Sorry you've been troubled.

No trouble. It's all on the night's work.

[car doors shut]

Dad! You haven't forgotten

about the air display tomorrow, have you?

-We'll get there early, won't we?

-We'll see the very first plane take off.

-Bye-bye, my dear.

-Bye-bye.

I say, Dad…

When are they gonna get

the g*ng that stuck up that cinema?

Give them time.

-Are you on that case?

-No.

He is! I bet he is!

He didn't look me in the eye.

I am not on that case.

Well, it's time they put you on!

Gosh! I wish

you'd been there when it happened!

-Tony.

-Yes?

The policeman who was there was k*lled.

I know he was.

I bet he wouldn't have been

if Dad had been there.

It's ages since you've had

a really decent case.

-You know, like Maltese Eddy!

-You are a horrible child!

Listen you! The days

when your father, trembling with fear…

[he laughs]

…mixed with the elements of

the underworld are past, I'm glad to say!

Today, he directs, controls,

and administers from an office chair.

-[she laughs]

-Bye, all.

Goodbye.

[adventurous music]

What about the flat swindler?

That's almost in the bag.

The report's ready

for the Director of Public Prosecutions.

-Let me see it before it goes off.

-Yes.

Well, what else have you got on the hob?

Plenty, though it's only simmering

at present.

You asked me

for a new detective, Sergeant.

To replace Beech.

That's one way of putting it.

I didn't want to lose Beech.

I just got him used to my ways.

You trained him so well, we promoted him.

I've found someone else for you.

Name of Ward.

-Yes, I saw it in orders.

-[phone rings]

He was at West End Central.

They think very highly of him.

Harris here.

What?

Right. I'll put Mr. Halliday onto it.

Safe in Long Acre, done last night.

Over 8,000 pounds in cash.

Though, there's something funny about it.

The alarm went off but the Q car

couldn't find anything wrong.

-What?

-A place called Stone and Company.

-Those feet are there already.

-Right, sir.

-Sorry, sir.

-Come in, Malcolm. We've finished.

You'll take Ward with you, no doubt.

He's in your office.

Very good, sir.

Oh, sorry, sir. My name's Ward.

You're quite comfortable.

I was just having a look at what's on,

to save you the trouble of telling me.

-I'm sorry--

-Alright.

Order a car, will you?

We've got a safe robbery in Long Acre.

Three eight, please.

-May I say, sir--

-[woman 1] Three eight.

Car for Superintendent Halliday,

please, at the back hall.

May you say what?

I was no end pleased

when I heard I'd been posted to you.

Were you?

Let's hope you'll still be

no end pleased in six months' time.

[he chuckles]

They've done that smash-and-grab raid

in Victoria at last.

That's been on and off like a prize fight.

Yes, sir. Two of them were brought in

this morning at Rochester Row.

Hm…

-There's lead jobs…

-Yes, Harley Street.

My first nab was a lead thief. Paddington.

-The whole back of his jacket--

-Alfie Ross comes out today!

That will cheer things up in Blackfriars.

I hope his wife's home to welcome him.

No, sir. She's inside for shoplifting.

Three months.

Caught last Friday.

I see this place has

a nightwatchman and a burglar alarm.

Like wearing a belt and braces too.

Yes. And they were still caught

with their trousers down.

You haven't told

the Reserve Room where we're going.

Never leave the office without doing that.

[cars honking]

Detective Superintendent Halliday

and Detective Sergeant Ward.

I'm Stone. This is Mr. Creasey.

How do you do, Mr. Stone?

-Mr., uh…

-Creasey, of the BBI.

-BBI?

-Bristol and Birmingham Insurance Company.

Your people seem to have been

at bit slow off the mark last night.

Sergeant Ward, check the times, will you?

-Morning, sir.

-Morning.

Well, what do you make of it?

Opened with a key, no doubt about it.

No scratches, no marks.

No sign of forcing the lock.

Furthermore,

it was locked again afterwards.

-What about prints?

-Several, by the look of it.

[Halliday] Hm… Glove marks.

How many keys to it are there?

-Two. I keep them both.

-Does anyone else use them?

The secretary, the cashier…

-Couple of clients.

-How long have they been with you?

Years. I know them inside out.

There's not one of them

got the nerve to do a thing like this.

Mr. Stone, I'd like your help.

Can you persuade your staff

to have their fingerprints taken?

-Entirely voluntary, of course.

-What's the good of that?

I told you we all go to the safe.

Our fingerprints are bound to be there.

Exactly. That's how

we can find the strange ones.

If there are any.

I follow.

Whatever Mr. Stone may think of his staff,

that safe was opened with a key.

-Really?

-Definitely. No sign of forcing.

What, not a whiff of igniting?

I'm afraid I don't find

this business funny.

What's the good of my installing

a magic burglar alarm

if it goes off and your chaps

get here too late to catch anybody?

Yes, my firm will want

that point cleared up.

I'll clear it up for you.

The time that elapsed between

the alarm going off and our car arriving

was one minute and 30 seconds.

Well, that doesn't seem possible.

-Can we be sure those figures are correct?

-We can.

It must have been a fast worker.

Confound it.

I got some black stuff on my shirt cuff.

Hope it'll wash off.

Well, if it doesn't, I'm sure

Mr. Creasey's firm will replace it.

My firm won't replace anything

until a few questions have been asked!

We don't pass over

8,000 pounds just like that

because somebody

holds his hand out for it!

If you don't pay up,

you'll find you're not the only one

who does the shouting.

Don't think I'm paying

a higher premium now.

Does that mean

there was more than usual in the safe?

Yes, it does. Trade's looking up.

I've had to adjust my insurance.

I see. How many people knew

the money was there?

Any one of my staff.

I didn't keep it a secret.

-The nightwatchman knew about it?

-Nightwatchman?

Yes. He let the police in

when the alarm went off.

What are you talking about?

There was no nightwatchman.

He's in the hospital!

There's no sign of forcible entry, sir.

He probably came in

during office hours and hid.

I checked the watchman's story.

He's in the Middlesex Hospital, appendix.

-Went in the day before yesterday.

-Genuine?

Not a doubt. Emergency operation.

It wasn't any of those people, sir.

Sure it wasn't me, Sergeant?

Or, uh… Mr. Creasey?

Ward, take Sergeant back

to the Yard and check records.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Stone, I believe your nightwatchman

went into hospital two days ago.

That's right.

-Did you report it to the police?

-No.

Why should I do it?

Several of us share this building.

Why couldn't Goldstein report it?

Or old Smith?

Anyhow, you didn't.

[intriguing music]

-Well?

-No.

Looked like my uncle Harry.

It probably was.

-No, nothing there.

-Well, that's your lot.

Let's see what we can find upstairs.

Criminal Record Office.

-Height?

-Under six feet, sir. About five feet ten.

Any peculiarity in his speech?

No, sir. No accent

you could notice at all.

-Any particular phrases or words he used?

-No, sir.

Hello, Tom.

They've given you a case at last.

That's right, Jim. I've come to ask you

to solve it for me, as usual.

[he chuckles] Well,

you've come to the right shop.

Any physical characteristic

of action or mood?

Nothing, sir.

All I can say is, he looked like

a nightwatchman and I thought he was one.

That's because he was just

where you expected a nightwatchman to be.

Nineteen.

Newsreel cameraman,

nickel-plate worker, nitrate miner,

Norwegian seaman, nursemaid…

No, we've never had

a nightwatchman before.

-He's struck a new note.

-Smart fellow.

-Alright, Sergeant, thank you.

-Get that description circulated.

Far be it from me

to criticise our splendid police,

but shouldn't that driver have known

the nightwatchman by sight?

No, we had bit of bad luck there.

The regular area car would have known him.

But they were away chasing Teddy boy,

so a Q car was sent instead.

Hm… That was very lucky for Chummy.

Found any old customers, Jack?

-A few possible, sir.

-Fine.

[indistinct chatter]

"Rickson?"

No.

Too clever, he wouldn't take

a chance like that. You agree?

I agree. Anyhow, he's too short.

What about Sandy Andy?

He's been known to do a safe.

Sandy Andy's inside, sir.

Went up in May for half a stretch.

Oh…

-Driver Frank.

-Old Mousy Driver…

He's getting past

this kind of job, isn't he?

Yes. Poor old chap

is crippled with arthritis.

Seems a shame

to keep his name in our cards.

That's all, sir.

Tom, I know you like me

to do your thinking for you,

so here's a suggestion.

Doesn't this look like an inside job?

-What about the phoney nightwatchman?

-Hm…

Maybe somebody's inside working with him,

who slipped him a key

for an hour or two to get a copy made.

He shouldn't be too hard for you to find.

He's bound to start

spending sooner or later.

-When do we get the fingerprint report?

-They'll try to get it this evening.

I hope he leaves

his name and address for you, Tom.

-This geezer's too clever for that.

-[he chuckles]

Well, Mr. Malcolm's given me

a few possibles. w*r boys.

The Shoreditch Ringer.

-Shall I take him on, sir?

-No, thank you. I'll handle him.

Very good, sir.

-Got any friends in the underworld?

-One or two.

Well, if I know the grapevine,

the news will be around already.

Uh, go on and talk to your friends.

See what the chat is about last night.

Right, sir.

Come and have some lunch first.

I usually have a sandwich and a pint

of beer around the corner. That suits you?

-As a matter of fact, I don't drink.

-Oh, dear!

Well, then, a lemonade?

-It's very nice of you sir, but…

-But you'd rather lunch on your own.

No, sir, not on my own.

And lunch once a week's about all

I see of her.

Oh…

Alright, well…

Some other time.

I'll see you when I get back.

[man 4] Have a light, mister?

-Evening, Slob.

-Hello, my boy.

I thought you were looking for me.

-Come about Stone, have you?

-You know anything?

Well, if I did,

I would have been on the job myself.

-That's worth a lot of lolly.

-That's right, Slob.

And there might be a lot of lolly.

I won't say there hasn't been talk today,

because that'd be a lie.

There has.

The general opinion favours an inside job.

How come?

Stands to reason.

Several characters have cased Stone,

but I've always turned it up

because the cupboard was bare.

Last night, it was full.

It's not lucky, though.

Who was the tip-off?

Oh, now you're rushing me, my boy.

It's no use trying to rush me.

Don't you worry.

If the tip-off's mother gave you my name--

Ta! Ta very much!

Yes, of course, there was a tip-off.

And it was someone who knew

the real nightwatchman was away.

-Stone, sir?

-Well, he's a favourite.

-Tomorrow, I want you to start looking--

-I've looked.

He's got a wife, three children,

and he runs a love nest in Balsham.

-That doesn't make him a crook.

-It costs money.

I dare say it does--

It's no new idea

to rob yourself and claim the insurance.

No, even in my limited experience,

I've come across that.

I didn't mean--

All I'm trying to say is that

even if Stone is in this,

and he probably is,

he's not the person

who actually opened the safe.

The bogus nightwatchman,

he's the man we've got to find.

Between us, we've dug up nothing

about him. You'll admit that, won't you?

-Yes, sir.

-Very well, then.

We can't do any more tonight.

Let's get home.

I can just catch the 9:48.

Tomorrow, I want you

to tackle everyone at Stone's.

Break them over, good and proper.

-Get young Cooper to give you a hand.

-Reserve Room, please.

[man 5] Reserve Room.

Superintendent Halliday

is leaving for home now.

-Do you have far to go, sir?

-Bromley. What about you?

I'm in the section house at Rochester Row.

Quite handy.

You've said it!

They drag us out at all hours.

They don't allow

a detective much private life, do they?

You ought to hear my girl on the subject.

You must bring her along,

meet my wife sometime.

-They'd agree about that.

-Thank you, sir. I'd like to.

On second thought,

you don't want to lose her,

it might be better

to wait until you're married.

Hello, darling.

Hello.

-I'll get your supper. I've had mine.

-Here!

Kiss a bit distant, colour a bit high,

trying not to be cross…

I know, supper's ruined.

-No.

-No?

Darling, if you could just ring up

when you're going to be late,

I wouldn't sit here wondering.

-Now, look here, Mary--

-Alright, skip it.

-Come on, there's steak and pudding.

-Oh, my! Is Tony in bed?

-Yes. He's asleep.

-No, I'm not!

[door slams]

That is because you're taking him

to the air display tomorrow.

Oh…

I'm afraid I've got some bad news for him.

-Tom, no! You can't do that.

-I must.

I say, Dad! How long will it take us

to get to Farnborough?

Are we going by coach?

I've got a timetable!

Look, Tony,

I'm afraid we're not going at all.

Oh, Dad…

I'm as sick about it as you are, but…

I'm on a new case

and I can't take the day off.

But I told Billy Jackson I'm going!

I've told everyone I'm going!

So have I, it's awful. Look.

-Shall we ask your mother to take you?

-She's no good.

She doesn't know anything

about aeroplanes.

Oh, well.

Look…

Don't you want to hear about my new case?

Is it a m*rder?

-No, I'm afraid not.

-Then, can't it wait?

Uh… No, it's very important.

-Stolen plans.

-Battleship or b*mber?

Spaceship!

-You're kidding?

-Am I?

You sure?

Left in a taxi? The plans, I mean.

No. They were stolen out of a safe,

in the Prime Minister's bedroom

at number 10 Downing Street.

How did they crack it? Was it a jigsaw?

No, it was a man with a key.

-Key…

-[door opens]

Supper's on. Say goodnight to Daddy, Tony.

-Now, lie down.

-Didn't anyone see him?

Yes, that's the funny thing.

Three policemen saw him,

and he didn't turn a hair.

He just showed them round

and let them out.

-Goodnight, Son.

-Goodnight, darling.

Oh, you are kidding!

You'll be sorry when he grows up

thinking crime is romantic.

Well, let's worry about that one

when it happens.

Tom, don't fill his head

with all these stories about crooks.

I don't! Oh… What, that just now?

I wanted to get

his mind off the air display.

Yes, but couldn't you have told him

something else?

What you're afraid of is

he'll grow up thinking policemen

are romantic. Isn't that it?

[chuckling] Well… yes!

I'm sorry I'm not a stockbroker

or member of Parliament.

I'm a policeman! I like being a policeman!

I know.

And I'd like one of you

in a safer job, that's all.

A test pilot, for instance?

That's the other job he fancies!

Mary, you said

you'd stop all this. Can't you?

Every time I'm a half an hour late,

you have me on a mortuary slab!

The first five years of our marriage,

that's where you very nearly were!

About twice a week!

When we married,

I was a keen, young detective sergeant

trying to make my way up the ladder

and provide for my family.

[laughing] Nonsense!

You just like taking chances,

you know you do.

Oh, not any more. Time marches on.

I've got a keen, young

detective sergeant under me now.

He's walking out with a sweet,

young thing, trying to get on.

It's his turn to take all the chances.

[footsteps downstairs]

I say, Dad! Had he got a beard?

[Mary] What are you doing out of bed?

Oh, please, Mum!

Had he, Dad?

The man who stole the plans

out of the Prime Minister's bedroom?

No. No beard, no false nose,

no mask, nothing.

Which means he was quite sure

we wouldn't recognise him!

Perhaps it was his first job

he's ever done!

-That's enough, Tony. Back to bed.

-He didn't act like a beginner.

Or perhaps he was super crook

who'd never been caught!

I know someone who's going to get caught!

-[she laughs]

-Good heavens!

-[she stops laughing]

-Thanks, Son!

Tom, what about your sweet?

-[he grunts]

-Tony, go back to bed at once!

Goodnight, Dad.

Goodnight.

Jim? Tom-- Tom Halliday.

Were you watching TV? No? Good.

Look, I've got a hunch. A real one.

Can we meet in CRO

in about an hour's time?

Well, that's no distance!

I've got to come from Bromley!

Right, thanks. Listen…

There are two things about Chummy:

one, he's no beginner,

and two, he knew

he wouldn't be recognised.

We'll start again from there, hm? Right.

Sorry, darling, I've got to go.

-At least have your coffee--

-No, thanks.

No coffee, no time. Don't wait up.

-I may be late.

-Don't worry, I won't.

[Halliday]

I've worked it out this way, Jim:

Chummy knew the safe had an alarm,

and he thought he could beat it.

-"Beat it?"

-Get away in time, I mean.

And don't forget, he had a key.

He probably allowed himself, what,

two minutes for the whole job.

The car turned up in a minute and a half.

Exactly, so he had to think fast.

He knew the nightwatchman was in hospital.

-Mmh…

-It was worth trying. He got away with it.

Well, he scores ten out of ten for nerve.

I think he's an old hand, but…

an old hand without any form,

or he wouldn't have shown his face.

Now, look. Supposing

he hadn't had an alarm to cope with,

suppose nobody had seen him

and he got clean away,

how would that have looked?

Like an ordinary inside job,

cashier or something.

But Chummy would still have done it.

So he would.

I think he's done it before.

But not in London, or I'd remember.

Only you can tell me

about the rest of the country.

If you think that out all by yourself…

Funnily enough,

it was something my boy said.

Ah, that explains a lot!

[he inhales deeply] Safe breaking.

Your man hid in the premises?

Oh, never mind that now.

Never mind the method of entry?

It's one of the commonest ways

a crook signs his name, that's all!

It's a good thing I'm running

this department, not you.

Just for the moment,

I'm only after safes opened

we don't know how by we don't know who.

"Unknown means" would be better English.

Unknown means…

"Wakefield, bank."

"Doncaster, cinema."

I remember that one!

I suspected the manager,

but they couldn't make it stick.

-"Liverpool, shipping office."

-"Wolverhampton."

"Warrington…"

Fourteen of them. Spread over two years.

Eleven of them in the North Midlands.

That supports my hunch, it's the same man!

No. Look at the means of entry.

Everything from skylights to tunnelling.

You can't say they look like inside jobs.

You're wrong. I've known them

go to any length to put us off the scent.

Chairs broken, windows left open,

a bit of striped jersey caught on a nail.

Look! These aren't all

the same line of business either.

Cinema, post office, factories,

a bank, a shipping office, two jewellers.

The jewellers is one thing,

he never strikes an empty safe.

He knows where to go for honey.

-I still think it's one man.

-Oh, Tom…

But what's the common factor?

There must be one,

he must have some trick.

He's got a darn good one,

he doesn't get nabbed!

[he chuckles]

You got anything filed under "magic"?

I've got something filed under "whisky."

I think you need it.

If they're not inside jobs,

what's the alternative?

You're asking me to believe in someone

who's found a way of picking the lock

of any make of safe you like to mention

without so much as making a scratch!

What made you say that?

-Say what?

-"Any make of safe I like to mention."

I don't know, I just…

What kind of safe is it, at Stone's?

-Rock.

-It's a pretty common make, but…

"5th of February 1954, Liverpool.

Make of safe…

Rock. Limited Chester."

"July, Wakefield. Make of safe: Rock."

"September, Wolverhampton: Rock."

"October, Warrington: Rock."

"Doncaster: Rock. Sheffield: Rock."

-Rock!

-Rock!

Rock!

[thrilling music]

Only two ways of opening these things:

force, you'll need a lot of that.

Or a key.

Quite. How many keys

are made for each safe?

As many as

the customer asks for, naturally.

And you keep close supervision

over your men while they cut the keys?

Mr. Halliday, we don't employ riff-raff.

Safe-making's a craftsman's job.

Most of my men have been here

all their working lives.

I know them all personally.

I'd vouch for any of them.

I'm sure you would, but even an honest man

can be caught by a determined criminal.

-Not one of my men.

-No, sir?

Supposing he's in some trouble.

The crook gets to know about it

and brings pressure to bear.

Blackmail. Your man falls for it.

One day, he takes the safe keys

out of the works, meets the crook,

the crook makes wax impressions of them,

and hands over the money.

Then, he makes his own keys

from the wax. It's simple.

I'm even more interested in

clearing this up than you are.

But you still don't convince me.

Well, here's what you asked for.

Thank you.

A complete list of our staff

during the last ten years.

Just a minute.

Yes…

Jeff's retired… So has he…

Don't even worry

about this man, he's dead.

-There you are.

-Thank you.

-There's one name missing from that list.

-Oh?

Mine.

I've been through our records,

they're all in the clear.

Haven't they any vices? What's the matter

with the people up here?

They have too much respect

for the police, sir.

[he chuckles]

We'll keep an eye on them all, of course.

But if there had been

anything crooked inside the factory,

I think someone would have been

spending it by now.

What about Blenkinsop?

He's got a nice house in Park Gate,

two girls at an expensive school,

takes the family abroad for holidays.

He's away on business

a good deal, of course,

but we've never heard a whisper about him.

-Besides, he's a JP.

-I've locked up one or two of them before.

-[he chuckles]

-When's the next train?

Chester couldn't dig up a thing.

What did CRO say?

Nothing against any of them.

It's no good banging

our heads against a brick wall.

We'll have to go back

to Stone and Company. How did you--

But ten Rock Safes out of 14 jobs,

it can't be a coincidence!

-I'm not sure it is.

-Then why we're dropping them?

It was a real hunch!

We're not dropping them,

we're putting them on ice.

We followed a line, it led us nowhere.

So we'll try a new line.

Anyhow, whose hunch was it?

Now, then,

what have you raked up at Stone's?

They're all underpaid

and they all hate his guts,

but none of them have the brains

to pull a job like this.

Well, you could say they were too honest.

-Any more about Stone himself?

-Well, sir, did you notice his secretary?

The plain, middle-aged woman. Untidy hair.

The last one wasn't plain or middle-aged.

Stone's paying

the rent of her flat in Mayfair.

Hm, that is an expensive hobby of his!

Oh, there's Rusty Steele.

I sent him up at Kingston last year.

He's put on weight while he's been inside.

Right, keep after Stone.

I think he's in it somewhere.

Oh, the Deputy Commander would like

to see you. He'll stay until you get back.

Oh, dear…

"Sir, I regret to inform you

that I'm at a dead end!"

-I think I'll send you instead.

-[chuckling] Oh no, sir!

-It's you he's waiting for!

-[he scoffs]

You know, if Chummy thinks

he's pulled this one off,

he may try another.

That'd be just what the doctor ordered!

He may slip up next time,

however clever he is!

-Are you hoping he'll try it again?

-No, sir, not exactly hoping.

Ward, our job is to prevent crime,

not to hope for it.

-All the same. It'll be well worth it.

-Driver!

Don't listen to this man!

He's a thoroughly immoral young sergeant!

[driver laughs]

[quiet intriguing music]

[intriguing music continues]

[clock alarm rings]

[alarm continues]

Put the kettle on.

I'll get breakfast while you shave.

Righto.

Oh, sorry, dear.

I went to sleep again.

You timed it a treat. I'm just off.

Oh…

-Have you had enough to eat, though?

-I did.

You go on back to bed.

Hm, blow me down!

Someone's sown the buttons on!

Yes. And for the last time, see?

What do you do? Pull them off for fun?

[gentle music]

So long, love. Home by 12:30.

[suspenseful music]

[squeaking]

-Hey!

-[suspenseful music]

[shouting] Hey, stop!

Stop!

Pull over!

-Stop!

-[suspenseful music continues]

-[thud]

-[car clatters]

How much was there in this?

Over 6,000 pounds.

Two of our ships came in.

We were due to pay off their crews today.

The safe's always full on those occasions.

The thief obviously knew that.

You could easily find out about the ships.

Check in Lloyd's list.

Message from the Yard.

They want to know what make of safe it is.

What make?

Rock.

There's not a mark on it, not a scratch.

How many keys are there?

Only two.

The Managing Director usually has one,

and I have the other.

The Managing Director's in Australia.

So, I have them both at the moment.

Looks bad, doesn't it?

Cheer up, you're not in a quad yet.

Is this how they got in?

Yes. They came up the fire escape.

A message, sir. The hospital said

the man is regaining consciousness.

Right. Have someone at his bedside.

What was that about?

A chap knocked down

by a hit-and-run driver last night.

He was found just down the street.

-What time?

-Reported to us at 4:30 this morning.

That could have been done

any time during the night.

I'd like to see this man.

[intriguing music]

What's happened? Has he said anything?

He's been trying to speak, sir.

Said something about a car,

and trying to stop it, it sounded like.

I just picked up a word here and there.

He's very weak.

I'd like to ask him

a few questions, if I may.

Is he strong enough?

[doctor] Just about.

But you must stop when I tell you to.

I'm a police officer.

Can you hear me?

[vibrating noise]

[muffled] If you can understand

what I'm saying,

just nod.

Hm?

Did you see a man

coming from the Shipping Office?

Did you see him get into the car?

And then, the car started to move,

you tried to stop it

and it ran you down.

Was it a big car?

Saloon?

Now, the colour.

Was it light?

-[vibrating noise]

-[Halliday] Black?

[muffled] Blue?

[intriguing music]

Take your time.

[vibrating noise]

[muffled] It was a big, dark saloon car.

But you don't know what the colour was.

[Halliday] Now, try

to help me about the man.

Could you recognise him again?

Was he tall?

Fair?

Dark?

[vibrating noise]

You couldn't tell.

[vibrating noise]

Now, about his age. Was he young?

[Halliday] Your age?

My age?

Older than me?

[vibrating noise]

[growing muffled] Was he older than me?

[suspenseful music]

-[music stops]

-No more.

You stay with him.

Excuse me. How's my husband?

Please, tell me, doctor.

Is he gonna be alright?

I'm sorry, I'm not the doctor.

-But you've just been in there.

-I'm a police officer.

Oh…

Is he…?

No, no. I've just been talking to him.

[doctor] You can come in now.

Thank you.

[doors squeak close]

Get this circulated:

big, dark saloon, make unknown,

front will bear

marks of collision with the victim,

probably blood stains

and fragments of clothes.

Yes, sir.

What about the description of the man?

Useless.

If only that doctor had let me carry on.

-The man was dying!

-I know that.

He's a brave man,

he doesn't deserve to die.

Sorry.

You've got to learn to be less sensitive,

if you don't want to break your heart.

Will he die?

[Halliday] I'm afraid so.

-Then, we have a case of manslaughter?

-m*rder, sir.

Hm…

No witness has come forward.

I don't suppose there were any.

And if the man himself dies…

We have to prove that violence was done

to escape after committing a felony.

I think his answers

to my questions do that.

Well…

I should hate him

to get away with manslaughter.

-So would I.

-[knock on door]

Come in.

Sorry to interrupt you, sir.

Message from the hospital.

The man's dead.

He didn't speak again.

Thank you.

So, it's m*rder.

[suspenseful music]

See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

Come on, now, only two bob.

See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

-See the bunny run.

-[car honks]

Only two bob.

Come on, now.

See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

-Only two bob.

-Hello, Slob.

-See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

-What about Blackwall Road?

Look, I don't want to talk to you.

Here we are, lady!

See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

Only two bob.

-See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

-What about Blackwall Road?

I'll never have nothing

to do with things like that, so blow!

Come on, love, here you are!

See the bunny run, see the bunny jump.

Only two bob.

-Any luck?

-No, sir.

-They're scared.

-Yes.

They've all put the shutters up.

No one's talking.

This way.

Well, you got your wish anyhow:

he did it again.

I wish I'd never said it.

You said he might slip up this time.

He has.

He's made the biggest slip of all.

Come on. I bet you've missed your lunch.

[indistinct chatter]

Evening, Frank.

-Hello, Mr. Halliday.

-Got any ham sandwiches?

-I think so.

-Two, please. And a pint of bitter.

Oh, and a lemonade for my boy, here.

[gate shuts loudly]

Sorry, darling.

-I didn't want to wake you.

-Had any supper?

-Yes, thanks.

-I bet you haven't.

-Shall I make some tea?

-Not for me, darling. I'll have some beer.

There. I knew you'd be hungry.

-Ham, fresh-cut.

-Oh, but…

Wonderful!

What have I done to deserve you?

Had a bad day?

[sighing] Well…

I'm not sorry it's over.

Just for once, I know what you're doing.

The man they k*lled

in Blackwall Road, isn't it?

Darling, it says in the paper

that you're on that job!

Why do they have to do that?

I still mustn't ask any questions?

I wouldn't know the answers.

I wish I did.

Nice-looking boy.

It says he had a wife and a little baby.

Yeah…

What do they do now?

I saw her.

She's just a kid. She'll marry again.

I don't suppose

she's thinking about that just now.

She's not.

Any chance you'll find the man who did it?

Every chance.

Finish those and come on up.

You need some sleep.

Alright…

Go on, ask him!

-No, you!

-Alright.

How much, mister?

-What have you got there?

-Old fog lamp.

But this ain't old. Where'd you get it?

My uncle gave it to me.

-And who's he?

-He's a soldier.

Been on leave. Gone back to camp now.

What's his name?

Um, Robinson… John Robinson.

Now, don't tell fibs, Son.

Where'd you get it?

Hm?

Come on, your uncle

never gave you that, did he now?

Yes, he did.

No, he didn't.

-I found it.

-Found it? Pinched it, more like!

-Where, Sonny?

-On an old wreck, down at the dump.

This never came off no wreck.

It did, I tell you. Honest, it did!

But it's a new lamp!

What would a new lamp be doing on a wreck?

If it's not a wreck,

what's it doing on the dump?

-You liar!

-Just a minute.

-What sort of a car was it, Son?

-Ford. Ford Pilot.

[suspenseful music]

This is the one, sir.

Aha! Soon as Bates saw that,

it smelled to him of Blackwall Road.

-He's got a good nose.

-Good thing those kids came across it.

-It would have weathered in no time.

-Look here, sir.

[Halliday] We'll see if this matches

with the dead man's clothes.

This looks like blood.

I'll get the car taken away

as soon as I can.

Right.

-Well done, Bates.

-Thank you, sir.

[clicking]

[whirring]

-It's all yours, sir.

-Alright, boys.

Hello!

-What have we got there?

-Look, sir.

Ward!

Silver, by the look of it.

Dust for fingerprints.

-Where did you find that?

-Under the nearside seat, sir.

I've checked the registration number.

It's a Morris Minor.

It isn't, you know? It's a Ford Pilot.

-My! Hasn't it grown!

-[he snorts]

XMY 8-6-6.

Aha! KLX 7-7-4.

K…

L… KLX.

Here we are.

"KLX 7-7-4. Ford Pilot."

"Owner: Geoffrey Ames, Car Hire Limited."

"Reported stolen by a Mrs. Elliot,

78 Crispin Court, Chelsea, on the second."

-When was Stone done?

-On the 9th.

"Parked it outside Peter Jones,

where she did some shopping."

She left her powder compact in the car.

We found it.

Better let Chelsea know.

Ask them to send her up to identify it.

Yes, sir.

-You think it's the m*rder car?

-I'm certain of it.

The strand material from the radiator

matches the dead man's coat.

-And the blood groups are the same.

-There's no argument, then.

Doesn't tell us who drove it.

We know the car was stolen and disguised.

From the dates, we know that

it could have been used for both jobs.

And we know Chummy did both jobs.

Do we?

-Yes, sir.

-Prove it.

But if you're right about Rock Safes…

That only points to the same man.

We have no evidence to prove it,

none at all.

What do you think that was used for?

Cleaning the windscreen?

One grubby old newspaper…

Probably belonged

to the woman who hired the car.

Mrs., um… Elliot.

Dated the second.

-That's the day--

-That's the day the car was stolen!

That's the day the car was stolen.

So, it could have been Mrs. Elliot's

or it could have been Chummy's!

They're not teaching them

to write so well nowadays.

What do you make of that?

Could be "the grange."

Yes, I think you're right.

It was delivered

to a house called The Grange.

How many houses in England are called

"The Grange"? Please don't tell me.

Somebody's done the crossword.

I can't see Chummy

wasting time on crossword.

-More likely Mrs. Elliot.

-Yeah.

Well, we'll ask her

when she comes about her compact.

Wait a minute…

She doesn't live at The Grange,

she has a flat in Crispin Court!

Here, I've got a job for you.

Take this along to Fleet Street

and ask them where The Grange is.

"The Grange," eh?

That shouldn't be too difficult.

Our daily circulation is

under three million.

-Oh…

-Don't be discouraged.

Now, you see that?

All London editions are marked that way.

Not printed in London.

Printed in Manchester.

And these three dots

mean the second Welsh edition.

Bill! How big's the second Welsh?

-About 44,000.

-Narrowing it down, eh?

Now, you see this little break?

You must think it's careless printing.

It comes under the letter I in "daily."

That's the third letter. It was printed

on the number three machine.

Manchester will tell you

how many copies of the Welsh edition

number three printed that night.

Might not be more than 8,000.

Now…

You see that? We call it the "fudge item."

We note the time when we start to run it.

Now, we're getting somewhere.

All you have to do is to ask

Manchester to look up their records.

If they had a normal run that night,

they will tell you which wholesalers

were supplied with copies

of the second Welsh edition

printed by number three machine

from the time the fudge item was included.

Then, you ask the wholesalers

for a list of news agents they supply.

Go to the news agents,

show them the paper,

ask them which of them

wrote "The Grange" on the page! Got it?

Right. Go along

to the photographic department,

get them to make an enlargement of that.

Rush job, 50 prints. Oh, and Ward!

-Got a date with your girl tonight?

-Yes, I have, actually.

Or I had.

You had! You'll be in Manchester!

Second Welsh edition?

[woman 2] Daily Mail Circulation…

Anywhere in this area here.

Those pins represent our wholesalers.

I'll give you a list of them.

Then, all you have to do is to ask them

for a list of all the news agents--

Thanks, I know.

[plucky music]

That's not my writing.

Thank you.

Mrs. Elliot, sir.

Thank you. Would you come this way?

-Uh, sit down, won't you?

-Thank you.

I, uh… believe this is yours.

Yes, that's the one. Thank you so mu--

I'm afraid you can't have it back yet.

We may need it as an exhibit.

Oh, yes, I see.

I'm sorry to bring you up here

just to identify it, but…

I expect you know

the car that was stolen from you

was used to k*ll a man.

Yes, they told me at the police station

when I went to identify the car.

I saw the damage.

It upset me very much.

Well, no need to worry.

If it hadn't been your car,

it would have been someone else's.

-Was the man in much pain?

-No.

I'm glad.

I wonder if you'd do something for me.

You see, I'm very fond of that compact

and I never expected to see it again.

Would five pounds be a suitable amount?

But there's no question of a reward.

The police recovered the compact.

Oh, but I didn't mean it as a reward.

The man who was k*lled

left a widow, didn't he?

I see.

That's very kind of you, Mrs. Elliot.

I'll hand it on

to the appropriate quarter.

-They'll see she gets it.

-Thank you.

You know, it's funny.

I've read and heard an awful lot

about Scotland Yard, but…

I never expected to see inside it.

It's much the same as any other office.

A bit more Spartan than some, perhaps.

-Not many offices have such a lovely view.

-Oh, that! [he chuckles]

I'm afraid we take it for granted.

[chuckling] You're too busy to look at it.

-Most of the time.

-Oh, I mustn't keep you.

Unless… Is there anything else?

No, nothing more. We'll return

your compact to you as soon as we can.

Thank you.

Just a moment.

I must give you back your pass.

Otherwise they won't let you out

of the building.

[she chuckles]

-Thank you.

-Thank you.

Can you tell me

if Mr. Williams wrote that?

Yes, that's all Dad's writing.

-Whatever have you made a photo of it for?

-Never you mind that.

Are you certain it's his writing?

Of course, I am. I should know it.

Then, what's he written

"Grange" on it for?

We all know there's no house

called "Grange" in the district!

Grange?

Your eyes must be getting bad.

That's not "grange," that's "garage!"

Garage?

-Mr. Thomas.

-That's him. Whatever has he been up to?

I don't know. But I wanna use your phone.

Right, thank you.

Goodbye.

[woman 3] Number, please.

Bromley 6-7-6-1, please.

[phone rings]

Hello?

Oh, hello, Ward.

Good work. Where?

Never heard of it.

Find out where it is, how we get there,

what train we catch, and ring me back.

Tomorrow night? Not a hope!

Uh, tell her it's all my fault.

Where are you off to?

North Wales.

Some place that Ward can't pronounce.

Join the police and see Britain!

Oh, it won't be

for more than a day or two.

-How are you liking Sergeant Ward?

-Oh, he's alright.

He's a bit impulsive,

but he'll grow out of that.

Spends too much time

thinking about his girl.

That's another thing he'll grow out of

if he sees much of you!

Mary! Did you mean that?

I'll pack your bag.

[intriguing music]

Hang on, will you?

"The Grange," sir.

[whistling]

-Good afternoon.

-Good afternoon, gentlemen.

-Mr. Thomas?

-Yes. What can I do for you?

I'd like to ask a few questions.

Oh, yes, you're the police, aren't you?

Scotland Yard, isn't it?

-Yes.

-We've been expecting you all morning!

-Had a good journey, I hope?

-Yes, thank you.

Mr. Thomas, does anyone

around here own a Ford Pilot?

What's that to do with it?

Williams was saying

it was all about a newspaper.

Is that the one in your hand?

Mr. Thomas, does anyone

around here own a Ford Pilot?

-No.

-Thank you.

Uh, excuse my curiosity,

but why should you go

and photograph a newspaper?

-Here's the original. Is it yours?

-Yes, looks like it.

[he chuckles] How did you come

to think that word was "grange", I wonder.

This paper was found under the seat

of a Ford Pilot in London.

Have you any idea

how it could have got there?

Well, now! That's a question, isn't it?

Yes, Mr. Thomas! It is a question!

The first one I've managed to ask you!

-[Thomas] Oh, I'm sorry.

-He's as bad as you are!

We're trying to trace

the owner of the car.

And we think this newspaper may help.

Now, have you done

any work recently on a Ford Pilot?

No, not that I can remember.

-Well, perhaps you keep a day book?

-Oh, yes.

-Do you want to see it?

-Yes!

I'd like you to look up the second

of last month, the date of the newspaper.

[clattering]

Let's see now.

Uh…

-Ah! Here we are.

-Well?

"Exhaust gasket, Mr. Vaughan."

"New tubes for Mrs. Davis."

"Puncture mending."

"Took Mr. Brotherton to the junction."

"Knocking dent out of vicar's wing."

No, nothing like that.

Busy old day, though, wasn't it?

Not too busy for you

to have a go at the crossword.

Crossword? Not me.

Never touch them. [he chuckles]

-Got enough puzzles.

-Well, somebody did it.

[snapping fingers] Got it!

A customer of mine did that.

He started it in the car,

didn't have time to finish it.

-So I told him to keep the paper.

-What's the customer's name?

Now, I don't want

to get anybody into trouble.

Is he in some sort of scrape?

"Took Mr. Brotherton to the junction."

Is that him?

That's him.

Does he own a Ford Pilot?

He hasn't got a car at all.

That's why I took him to the junction.

How long has he lived in the village?

He came here about two years ago,

took a furnished place.

A retired gentleman.

-What kind of retired gentleman?

-He never said.

But I should judge,

a sort of engineer, uh…

-Precision worker.

-What makes you think that?

Well, he was very good at fixing things.

I know that because there was no

grandfather clock where he used to live.

Hadn't gone for donkey's years.

But he fixed it.

[laughing]

I remember it was the time

that Mrs. Thomas got locked in the privy.

[laughing]

She'd have been there now,

if Mr. Brotherton hadn't rescued her!

Good with locks too?

Magic!

Is he at home now?

[he chuckles] At home?

No, left on that day, not coming back.

-Where's he gone to live?

-I don't know. I didn't ask him.

I don't go around poking my nose

into other people's business.

Oh, um… Sorry,

nothing personal, you understand?

I've nearly finished.

Just describe Mr. Brotherton

to my sergeant here.

-How old would you say?

-Oh, about as old as he is.

-Hm, wish I'd retired so young.

-[he chuckles]

-Was he friendly?

-Yes, but not over-friendly, you know?

Sort of kept himself to himself,

you understand?

Used to go away

for a day or two now and again.

-Where to?

-Never said.

The day you drove him to the station,

what train did he catch?

-Nine fifty.

-Is that a London train?

[chuckling] Well, he has to, actually.

Do you think somebody

met him in a Ford Pilot?

There you go again, Mr. Thomas!

I thought we'd look through

this list of Blenkinsop's.

There were two chaps who retired.

-Neither of them was called Brotherton.

-That's too much to ask.

When did you say Mr. Brotherton turned up?

Two years ago.

Hm… Neither of them fit.

[Halliday] Blast…

Wait a minute.

Gilson!

-Oh, he's dead, sir.

-I know.

When did he die?

How do you get to Chester from here?

Chester? You found the paper in London.

Why do you want to go to Chester?

[engine starts]

Hey! Don't you want any petrol?

Gilson? He's dead.

I crossed his name off the list,

don't you remember?

Yes, sir. When did he die?

About a year after he left us.

-But when was this?

-Oh…

A couple of years ago? Yes, about that.

-We had a letter from his widow.

-A good locksmith?

Never had a better one.

I was sorry to lose him.

Quite young.

He retired because of his health.

Can you remember

where his widow wrote from?

Somewhere down your way.

Shepperton-on-Thames, I think.

If you kept the letter,

I'd like to see it.

It'll be on the office files.

I can look it up in the morning,

if you're really interested.

I am, sir. I've got

to get back to London tonight.

If I could bother you to phone it through.

I must say, Mr. Halliday,

I find it very difficult

to understand your line of enquiry.

Gilson died two years ago.

Yes, and for the last two years,

somebody's found it easy

to open your safes.

But how can it be Gilson? He's dead!

Which is the best alibi a man can have.

Oh…

Now, if you'd give me

a detailed description of Gilson.

[train rattling]

Sorry, sir.

There are no sleepers available.

What, not even one?

Not even one.

I'll call CRO in the morning

and see if they've got anything

under Gilson or Brotherton.

They won't have, but do it all the same.

Quite a boy, this Gilson!

Year after year,

he turns out keys for Blenkinsop Safes,

as honest as the day he was born.

Then, suddenly, he gets it.

A brand new idea.

And so simple.

An extra key for each safe.

He pops it in his pocket,

takes it home, ties a label on it,

saying where the safe is going.

Then, one fine day, when he's made

a nice big collection of keys…

In the company's time!

…he hands in his notice, retires

to Shepperton for a year, and then dies.

Comes to life again

in North Wales as Brotherton.

Takes out his keys

and starts opening up the safes.

[he scoffs]

Why didn't you and I think of it?

Make yourself comfortable.

The way he made it look as if all the jobs

were done by different people.

Until he came to London,

he never put a foot wrong.

Just so.

Can you imagine a man like that

being mug enough to k*ll?

No, I can't.

I think he's picked up bad company

since he came south.

When we get the man that drove that car…

Where are we?

Birmingham. We stop here for ten minutes.

Go and find some tea

and bring me back a cup.

-Actually, I thought I'd just, uh--

-Phone Jenny.

Oh, you spoil that girl, Sergeant.

You haven't seen her. She's worth

three shillings for three minutes.

-She's at the pictures with a soldier!

-[he chuckles]

-Ward!

-Sir?

Don't miss the train.

[phone ringing]

Hello? Yes, speaking.

Tom!

[inhaling] Tom, what's happened to you?

Darling, you frightened me!

Well, I thought you'd be pleased!

Yes, of course, I am. I'm awfully pleased.

It was very sweet of you--

Oh, Tom, are you there?

Darling! Mr. Simpson

called me today about Tony.

Really, does he? As good as that?

Well, a scholarship

will make a lot of difference!

What does Tony say about it?

[he chuckles]

No, did he really?

Well, that's the spirit.

[whistle blows]

Look, Mary, let's tell him--

[train whistle blows]

[shouting] Mary! Good Lord!

[train rattles]

The Pear Tree Bungalow?

Oh, I know it well. Splendid property.

We've had it several times.

Two Park Avenue.

Mrs. Gilson's house?

Oh, some time back.

We sold it for her two years ago.

She didn't want to go on living there

after her husband's death.

He was drowned, you know? In Cornwall.

-Was he?

-Oh, yes. Terrible thing.

They were on holiday together,

he went for a swim before breakfast

and never came back.

-You know how dangerous that coast can be.

-I certainly do.

-I suppose they never found his body.

-I believe not.

Then, how was Mrs. Gilson able

to dispose of the house?

Hm?

Oh, fortunately,

the property was in her name

so there was no difficulty about that.

I see!

[footsteps]

Oh, good morning, madam.

I believe a Mrs. Gilson used to live here.

She did.

Well, I'm trying to get in touch

with her maid or daily help.

I'm afraid she works for me now.

She's got no time for anyone else.

[chuckling] I haven't come here

to steal her from you.

I'm a police officer.

I wonder, could you possibly tell me

where I might be likely to find her?

Certainly!

She's in my kitchen, doing my ironing.

-[Halliday] How long were you with them?

-Just a year.

The same as Davis, here.

Did they live well? Spend much money?

Not a bob, if they could help it.

"Open-handed"

is not the word for them. Come here.

You know, she never offered me

as much as one pear of that tree,

and it was loaded that year!

-You got the impression they were hard up.

-Or mean!

Mind you, they had expectations.

-Oh?

-Well, she hinted at it more than once.

But I never went into it.

Wasn't interested.

What was she like? Uh, good-looking?

You might have thought so.

And Mr. Gilson?

[chuckling] You'd never look at him twice!

-[quietly] Tea?

-Uh, not for me, thanks.

Was Mrs. Gilson very upset

when her husband was drowned?

Well, she did go to pieces at first.

What an awful morning I had with her.

Still, she pulled herself

together quick enough.

Sold up, packed, and was gone.

-Where'd she go to?

-Oh, she didn't deign to tell me.

Well, I'm very grateful to you,

Mrs. Stevens.

-Oh, not at all.

-And to you, ma'am.

Oh, what did say Mrs. Gilson had done?

He won't tell you that.

But I hope it's worth seven years!

[adventurous music]

[quiet chattering]

Found what you wanted, sir?

No. No luck.

If that's the right expression.

-Are you sure about the year?

-Quite sure.

Not so sure about the death.

But they have to be dead

before they can get in here!

Exactly.

Yes, I agree.

It all seems to point to Gilson.

-So you have two things to do.

-Yes, I know: Catch him and prove it.

Well, we will. And when we do,

he'll lead us to the k*ller.

Excuse me, sir.

The Assistant Commissioner--

Murray's informed them.

They'll be ready before he goes.

Thank you, sir.

Nothing to do with you, Halliday.

But all the same, we must get a move on.

I'm being asked questions.

-But who--

-Yes, I know.

-That's one of the things I'm here for.

-I wasn't going to say that.

Who's getting impatient? Stone?

Stone? No, we haven't heard

a cheep out of him.

No, it's the Assistant Commissioner

who's on my back.

-That's odd, about Stone.

-What's odd?

Well, that insurance fellow, Creasey, was

all set to make a big fuss about paying.

-Has he paid?

-I don't know.

If he has paid without further question,

it seems a bit out of character.

On the other hand,

if he hasn't paid, I'd expect

Stone to be raising his voice.

I soon dealt with Creasey.

Told him to pay upright,

gave him what for.

This stuff's the very devil to get off.

The lipstick?

The wife's.

How soon did Creasey give instructions

for the claim to be met?

Not too long after,

when I told him I'd move my business.

I know how to deal

with these noisy little twerps.

He asked you no odd questions?

What business is it his to ask questions?

I'm paying a higher premium.

You usually do.

Going with it pretty thoroughly.

Yeah, well, he didn't.

There wasn't another murmur out of him.

And, uh… what about you?

Have you finished asking questions?

Yes, thank you.

Did you think I'd rob

my own safe or something?

Oh, Mr. Stone, you mustn't go

putting ideas into my head!

By the way, did Creasey know

that the nightwatchman was in hospital?

Yes, I told him. He said not to worry,

I was still protected.

I knew all along

there must have been a tip-off.

Someone who knew

the safe was full that night.

And that the nightwatchman

was in hospital.

Everything seemed

to point to Stone himself.

But now, we find that Creasey met

the insurance claim without a murmur.

Why did he?

Because he knew Stone was on the level.

-[Halliday] He could only know that…

-If he, himself, was the tip-off!

That's it.

This information

was worth a lot to Gilson.

No use having a key if you don't know

when the safe will be worth opening.

I think they may continue the partnership.

Here's a list

of the Rock Safes in London now

that Gilson could have worked on

while he was with the firm.

-Twenty-eight of them.

-Twenty-eight?

Great Scott! What are you going to do?

Tell them to keep money under the bed?

[he scoffs]

I don't think it'll come to that.

But if any one of these safes was

full to bursting, and Creasey knew it,

he'd slip the news to Gilson.

I get it.

Well, Mr. Ogilvie?

Can't the Fraud Squad help us there?

Well, if I were Gilson,

I'd be interested in the Festival Hall.

They have a Rock Safe.

And on big nights,

there's a lot of money in it.

Sometimes, over 5,000 pounds.

[Ogilvie] Properly insured, of course.

Does Creasey handle the Hall's insurance?

He'd want the business, obviously.

-I think we may be lucky there.

-You'll need to be.

-This case is more than a safe robbery.

-I know that, sir.

Suppose Creasey does bite.

How do we know Gilson will?

We don't, but why shouldn't he?

He doesn't know he left

an old newspaper in that car.

And he doesn't know we found it.

[seagulls squawking]

Creasey? Yes, I know him.

He came to see me some time ago.

Asked if I could put any business his way.

-And did you?

-No. We use the Royal Sovereign.

Could you perhaps consider

using Creasey's instead, sir?

Thank you, I prefer things as they are.

I'm flattered, gentlemen, that you came

to me but I don't see that I can help you.

Sorry.

Hm…

What a pity

Creasey's already been to see you.

Otherwise, you could say you're willing

to give him business for a limited period.

There's no need to say that

you're fixed up with the Royal Sovereign.

Just tell him their terms

and let him undercut them.

That's how I'd handle it in your position.

And what is my position?

Have I any choice?

Well, sir, the police need your help.

I'd call it an opportunity

of doing a service to the public.

So, it's my duty.

I thought so. No choice.

Alright, gentlemen.

As soon as Creasey's been to see me,

I'll give you a ring.

Thank you, sir.

[phone rings]

-Superintendent Halliday.

-Ah.

The fish is biting.

Our friend's just left me.

I've given him the business for a month.

I told him that would apply only

on three or four special gala nights

during the month.

I've got the dates here.

Would you like them?

-[Halliday] Very much indeed.

-Friday, the fourth.

The eleventh and twenty-fifth.

Thank you very much, sir. Goodbye.

Creasey's fallen for it.

-Now, we're off!

-We hope.

Ever been to a gala night

at the Royal Festival Hall, Sergeant Ward?

-Gaiety, glamour, romance?

-No, never.

Well, very soon,

you will be going. Quite often.

-Will I?

-Mhm. We'll go together.

Make a nice change for you.

You can hold my hand instead of Jenny's.

I knew there was a catch in it.

Put two men onto Creasey.

-See he's tailed day and night.

-Right, sir.

[intriguing music]

[music fades into grand orchestral music]

[indistinct chattering]

Not our lucky night.

Give him another hour.

[intriguing music]

It's like a railway timetable.

Same old routine, day after day.

I don't have to tail him,

I could lead him!

-Who's he phoning?

-The office, I expect.

He won't be back until after lunch.

What's today? Tuesday?

We'll be going to the George & Vulture.

So long. I'll go first

to make sure of a seat.

[intriguing music continues]

[Halliday] If only we could smoke.

It doesn't worry me, I don't.

[Halliday] Smug Sergeant!

[intriguing music continues]

[intriguing music continues]

[indistinct chattering]

Now, sir, I'm sorry

to have kept you waiting.

Oh, I'm, uh… just looking around.

[intriguing music continues]

[intriguing music continues]

Seventy-eight, Crispin Court?

But that's where Mrs. Elliot lives,

the woman the car was stolen from.

-That's right. I think she's Mrs. Gilson.

-What?

Fair, rather striking-looking.

Very sure of herself.

Yes. But she reported the car stolen.

The story checked.

[he scoffs] Even found her compact.

Yes, that's the one thing

that doesn't fit.

Or does it?

-Uh, go on. Go on talking.

-The rest's alright.

Look, sir, they had to have a car.

He comes from Wales by train,

she meets him at Euston in the hire car.

They head for Chelsea.

Somewhere on the way, she drops him off,

drives on alone to Peter Jones

and leaves the car outside.

He pinches it, takes it to a crook garage

that gives it a new look--

Or does it himself, more likely.

He's a craftsman.

In a lock-up or somewhere.

Anyway, she goes to the police, reports

the car's stolen, and Bob's your uncle.

Chummy's got his car,

and Mrs. Chummy's in the clear.

Very neat.

Then, he has to go and spoil it all

by bringing a newspaper with him,

cleaning the windscreen with it,

and stuffing it under the seat.

It's lucky they never think of everything.

But that compact!

Why did she leave it in the car?

It could only draw attention to her.

That's just the point.

There was always a chance that,

if something went wrong,

Chummy would have to abandon that car.

Sure enough, he did, and we found it.

What happens then?

He's disguised the car,

we see through that

and trace it back to Mrs. Elliot.

We check the statement she made

when she lost the car and find it correct.

She even reported a compact is missing.

And there it is.

And two dumb detectives say

her story fits,

she's in the clear and on the level.

Oh…

Never mind. We'll learn.

Now, there's another lady

I'd like you to meet.

Let's see if we can date her up

for tomorrow.

She's the devil of a time!

Why not throw a smoke b*mb

through her window to get her out?

-Suppose it isn't Mrs. Gilson?

-[she scoffs]

I wish you'd tell me what she's done.

I'm not sure myself yet.

-Will it be in the News of the World?

-Mhm, if I'm right.

[she sighs happily]

Oho! The dressed-up madam!

She must have come in to our expectations.

Yes, sir! That's the woman

Creasey was talking to.

You're sure it's Mrs. Gilson?

Positive! That's her, alright!

[Mrs. Stevens] Front and back.

She's living alone,

doesn't have many visitors.

The porter's never seen her husband,

didn't know she had one.

You'd better bring her in for questioning.

I don't want to do that.

The minute they know we're on to them,

Gilson will skedaddle.

-And leave you holding the woman.

-We can't risk losing Gilson.

You might talk her

into telling us where he is.

That woman was tough enough to hand me

five quid for the dead man's wife.

She wouldn't be broken

by any questions I could ask her.

No, when we collect Gilson,

we'll pull her in too.

If we collect him.

Tomorrow's the last big night

of Creasey's month.

It's likely to be the biggest haul.

Creasey knows that.

Tomorrow night is also the last chance

you have of your plan working.

I realise that.

I hope it works, Halliday.

Thank you, sir.

Oh…

-Is that your latest weapon?

-[he chuckles]

Tomorrow is my kid's birthday.

[g*n clicks]

[children shouting]

Please, Dad, will you come

and do your card trick now?

Sorry, I've got to go back to work.

-Oh, Tom!

-Oh, you haven't! Not on my birthday!

Well, Scotland Yard

can't close down for your birthday.

Are you on to something?

Are you gonna catch someone on the job?

I'm going back to finish the office work

I left to come to your party.

And after that,

the Finals of the Inter-divisional Boxing.

-I don't believe it!

-Tony!

I don't believe it!

He didn't look me in the eye.

He's your son, you deal with him.

Don't wait up, I'm sure to be late.

Go on. Go and join your guests.

-[children playing]

-Goodbye, all.

[all together] Goodbye!

[toy g*n clicks]

What sort of g*n has your dad got?

Is it a Colt?

-English police don't carry g*ns.

-Oh, why not?

They don't need them!

Besides, if they did,

every crook would pack a Roth.

My dad says you get a lot of trigger-happy

yobs sh**ting down civilians.

Then, how did he arrest Maltese Eddy?

He had a g*n, hadn't he?

Of course he had!

He shot a policeman only the week before.

-Lemonade!

-Ooh!

-Wait, wait, wait!

-Mum!

I bet Dad's on a job. Don't you?

That didn't sound right about the boxing.

-[suspenseful music]

-Here, you take these.

Hand them. Peter, help him.

See that everybody gets one.

He's picked a good night.

No need to break in.

I hope he won't let you down.

The squad are keeping

all their cars out of sight.

If he gets one peep at our boys,

he'll be off like a flash.

But if they should get a glimpse of him…

-You'll let him by.

-That's right. Thanks.

I want to take him

with the key in his hand.

And where will you be?

Right by the safe.

Staying for the fireworks?

[exploding and fizzing outside]

[fireworks whizzing]

[crowd shouts in amazement]

[whizzing continues]

[fizzing]

[creaking]

[creaking]

[door closes quietly]

[briefcase clicks]

[key clicks]

-Who the devil are you?

-We're police officers.

Oh, thank goodness, I…

thought you were burglars.

My name's Simpson,

I'm the Assistant Manager here.

I thought you might be the nightwatchman.

Nightwatchman?

-I'm afraid I don't understand.

-Never mind.

Go ahead, Sergeant.

We'll talk about Stone and Company later,

and the Blackwall Shipping Office.

All clear, sir.

I'm arresting you

for breaking into this office

and stealing the content of that safe.

You're not obliged to say anything,

but anything you say

may be given in evidence.

[bell chimes]

[car engine starts]

[footsteps]

Alright, hang on. I'll get a car.

[he grunts]

-[car revs]

-[tyres squeal]

[car revs]

[tyres squeal]

After him!

[Ward] Go around the other way!

Cut them off!

-[car revs]

-[tyres squeal]

[suspenseful music]

[tyres squeal]

[tyres squeal]

[suspenseful music intensifies]

-[she grunts]

-You've used that trick once too often!

[Ward] Take her away.

Are you alright, sir?

[faintly] Yeah.

-I'll live, I think.

-Nothing broken?

[he pants]

Yes.

A promise I made

to let other people take the risks!

The woman?

She very nearly got you!

Well, if she had, I…

suppose she'd have sent my wife a fiver!

Oh, she ought to pay more

for a superintendent!

[he pants]

[car brakes]

Now, remember,

not a word about crooks or safes.

-Or you'll be back on the beat.

-That's okay, sir. It was a bus.

-What number?

-Number nine, in Piccadilly.

Right.

By the way, sir,

were you on a pedestrian crossing?

Right in the middle of it!

-What was I doing?

-You?

Directing the traffic, I should think.

[intriguing music]

[orchestra music]