Courtroom. David Beale is speaking to a panel of four men which includes Lawrence Gascoigne. David's wife Florence watches from the gallery.
David: I don't believe in w*r. I don't believe it solves anything. w*r is evil. It's irrational. And if history has taught us anything, it's that w*r only leads to more w*r, more k*lling, bigger armies. And you want me to join up? What you're asking me to do is to take a lesson in m*rder. That's really all it is. And I stand here today because that is a lesson I refuse to take.
Lawrence: Thank you very much, Mr Beale. Very eloquently put. I understand you have quite a reputation as a writer.
David: Yes.
Lawrence: Unfortunately, it is not your literary abilities that we are here to examine. If you came upon a child injured in an air raid, what would you do?
David: Sorry?
Lawrence: Well, it's a fairly simple question. You come upon a young girl injured in an air raid. Would you help her?
David: Yes. Of course.
Lawrence: Even though that could be construed as helping the w*r effort?
David: No, that's not the same thing.
Lawrence: Do you obey the blackout regulations?
David: Yes.
Lawrence: You have no moral objections?
David: No. Why, why should I?
Lawrence: Because you claim to object to the w*r. Although it would now seem that you object to only some aspects of it.
David: That's not true.
Lawrence: One moment, Mr Beale.
He turns to speak with the other men in low whispers.
Lawrence: We are not satisfied that there is a conscientious objection within the meaning of the act in this case.
David: Wait a minute.
Lawrence: Your application is therefore refused.
David: You haven't listened to a word I've said.
Lawrence: Mr Beale...
David: You'd made up your mind before I even arrived here. I mean, this is a travesty!
Lawrence: Will you be quiet?
David: No! I came here because I want to be heard!
Lawrence: That is enough!
David: I do not recognise the authority of this tribunal.
Lawrence: Restrain him.
David: This is exactly what I'm trying to say!
A pair of police officers step forward to restrain David.
Officer: Come on, you.
David: Even if a country is at w*r, an individual still has a right to choose!
Lawrence: Officers, will you please arrest this man?
Officer: Come on!
David struggles against them as they haul him away.
David: I have a right to be heard!
He's dragged to the ground.
Florence: David!
Police station. The officers haul a still-struggling David up to the front desk. Bill Ferris is on duty behind it.
Ferris: Who's this?
Officer: Conscientious objector, sir. Beale. Arrested for breach of the peace and causing an affray.
They bring him round and shove him up against the mesh that Ferris stands behind.
Ferris: A conchie, eh? Well, we have a special welcome for people like you.
Police cell. David is crouched naked in the corner while a group of police officers spray him with a hose.
Ferris: I had a brother wounded at Dunkirk! A lot of his mates didn't make it. Of course, if they was all like you, h*tler would already be here!
Laughter from the policeman.
Front desk. Florence Beale is waiting and turns as she sees Hugh Reid approaching.
Florence: I'd like to see my husband.
Hugh: Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs, um...?
Ferris is sitting at a typewriter behind the desk.
Ferris: Beale, sir.
Florence: You have him in your cells.
Hugh: Yes, I'm sure that's the case, but there are official visiting hours. Look, I'm just on my way home, or I'd take you down to see him myself, but he'll be all right. Why don't you come back in the morning?
Police station stairs. One of the officers who arrested Beale is bringing a meal tray down. As he arrives in front of the cell, he sees David Beale's naked legs dangling above the floor.
Officer 2: Bloody hell.
He drops the tray and turns away to run for help.
Officer 2: Sergeant! Sergeant Ferris!
Two other officers stand outside the cell looking up at the hanging Beale.
OPENING CREDITS
Outside Hastings Town Hall. Men are working on taking down signs and removing railings. Raymond Brooks' car is parked in front of the building. Sam and Foyle drive past it and stop nearby.
Foyle: This may take a while, Sam. Wait for me back at the station, hmm?
Sam: Right, sir.
Outside, Brooks is just getting out of his car as Lawrence Gascoigne walks past.
Brooks: Lawrence, I've got an exercise planned for the defence volunteers. We'll be doing it out here.
Lawrence: Well, keep it short.
Brooks leans over to speak to his driver.
Brooks: Wait for me here.
Lawrence is heading into the building as Foyle walks up.
Lawrence: Afternoon, Foyle.
Foyle: Afternoon.
They walk in together.
Town hall. Lawrence and Foyle are listing to Brooks speak.
Brooks: No, Mr Foyle. I'm sorry, but I don't agree. As I understand it, Hastings has been designated a nodal point, class A. Now, that means that we're expected to hold out for a full seven days in the event of a German invasion.
CAPTION: JUNE 1940
Foyle: Yes, that's right.
Brooks: All right. Now, I have 200 men under my command in the local defence volunteers. Are you saying I shouldn't let them know what's expected of them?
Foyle: No, Mr Brooks. I'm saying that, er, we needn't be too specific about what may or may not happen. We can prepare for the worst without painting too vivid a picture of it.
Brooks: Well, I'm sorry, but I disagree.
Foyle: Preventing panic is a large part of our job. The railway stations, t*nk traps, road signs coming down - people are obviously aware that something is happening.
Lawrence: But we don't have to lay it on the line. I agree with Foyle. It's also getting rather late, and I think we've covered everything exhaustively.
Brooks: Whatever you say.
He goes to leave.
Outside, a police officer is wearing a gas mask while a woman rolls bandages.
Policeman: Liven up! Come on! Lie down! Lie down, he'll be here in a minute. Have you done that now?
Brooks emerges from the building.
Brooks: All right. Let's see what you've got.
Inside, Lawrence and Foyle are walking down the stairs together.
Lawrence: Raymond Brooks is a good man, but he feels left out this time round. He was in France last time, won the DSO at Ypres. That's the trouble with these w*r heroes. They want to win this w*r, too.
Outside. Brooks is supervising the exercise. In front of his parked car, a nurse in a gas mask is leaning over a simulated casualty.
Brooks: Excellent work. Well done. Um, I think you'd better move.
His driver starts the car.
Lawrence and Foyle emerge from the building, where the exercise is still going on.
Foyle: Oh. What's going on here?
Lawrence: That's Brooks for you. Gas att*ck rehearsal. Well, I daresay I'll see you in court. Good day.
He walks off.
Police station front desk. Ferris is at the typewriter. Sam and Milner walk out from the back offices.
Sam: I say, Milner, how much longer do you think he's going to be?
Milner: I don't know, but I'm going home.
Sam: It's only an invasion committee. What have they got to talk about?
Milner: The invasion.
Sam: I wish the Germans would inv*de. Least I'd get some tea.
Foyle arrives, heading into the back.
Milner: Good evening, sir. I was just on my way home.
Foyle: That's fine, Milner. Good night.
He spots Sam.
Foyle: You're still here?
Sam: Er, You asked me to wait for you, sir.
Foyle: Oh, did I? I need something out of the office, and we'll be off.
They pass Hugh Reid in the corridor.
Hugh: Christopher, we still on for tomorrow?
Foyle: Yes, 11:30.
Hugh: Good.
Sam: Another committee?
Foyle: Golf.
Sam: Oh. Am I driving you home?
Foyle: Er, no. I can't bear the thought of cooking for myself again. I'm, er, going to go to Carlo's, just around the corner from me.
Sam: Oh, I've driven past there a couple of times. Er, I've often thought I might give it a try.
Foyle: Ah.
The two of them drive along a Hastings street.
Sam: Where I'm staying, the landlady doesn't allow cooking after six o'clock.
Foyle: Oh, doesn't she?
Sam: What is the time, sir?
Foyle: It's half past seven.
Sam: Is it really, sir?
Foyle looks amused.
They pull up outside Carlo's
Sam: Here we are.
Foyle: Come on.
He gets out of the car.
Sam: Thank you very much, sir. That's very kind of you.
She follows him out. As they enter the restaurant, the owner Carlo Lucciano looks up from behind the front desk.
Foyle: Carlo?
Carlo: Christopher. How are you?
They shake hands.
Foyle: I'm fine, thank you.
Carlo: It's good to see you.
Foyle: And you.
Carlo: Thank you. You're not eating alone tonight?
Foyle: Er, apparently not. No, this is my driver, Sam Stewart.
Sam: Hello.
Carlo: Hello. So they finally got you one, eh?
Foyle: Yeah, finally.
Carlo: Now, you look after him. He works too hard.
Foyle: Okay.
Carlo: What do you want to eat?
Foyle: I'll have the lasagne.
Carlo: Er, no, not the lasagne.
Foyle: Not the lasagne?
Carlo: No. Meat supplies aren't so good, and I know what went into it.
Foyle: Oh, right.
Carlo: I have some very nice pork arrostita with herbs and vegetables.
Foyle: Fine.
Sam: I'll have the same.
Carlo: Good choice. Er, I'll get Tony to bring some chianti. Excuse me. Er, follow me.
He takes them through to the tables in the back.
Woman: Carlo, ciao.
Carlo: Please, er, sit down.
Foyle: Thank you.
Carlo: I haven't seen, er, Andrew for quite a while. What have you done with him?
Foyle: I haven't done anything with him. He's with the RAF.
Carlo: A pilot?
Foyle: Training.
Carlo: Did he tell you?
Foyle: Well, no, not until after he'd joined.
Carlo: Hmm. Yeah, these young people. Where they are, what they're doing, they never tell you anything.
He claps Foyle on the shoulder on his way out of the room.
Sam: You must be very proud of him.
Foyle: Of Andrew? Yes.
Sam: I think it's jolly good that everyone does their bit.
Foyle: Yes, I do, too.
Sam: Where's he based?
Foyle: Scotland.
Sam: Oh. Poor him. I went to Edinburgh. Nearly d*ed of cold. My father took me on an ecumenical tour. All I remember is lots of drunken old men drinking too much whiskey and arguing about the Book of Revelations.
Tony Lucciano comes in with a jug of chianti
Tony: Buona sera, signor Foyle.
Foyle: Buona sera, Tony.
Tony: Que Bella signora!
He says something to Sam in Italian.
Sam: I'm sorry?
Tony starts pouring her a drink. Carlo arrives and flaps at him with a towel.
Carlo: Tony, what the hell do you think you're doing? Ignore him. It's the only Italian he speaks, and he uses it on all the girls.
Tony: Dad.
Carlo: Eh?
This is Sam Stewart, my driver.
Tony: I haven't seen you here before.
Sam: I haven't been here before.
Tony: Well, I'm Antonio. Everyone calls me Tony. You haven't ordered the lasagne?
Sam: No.
Tony: Good.
He heads back out. Foyle pours himself a drink.
Foyle: He was, um, born in Bermondsey, and he's never been out the country.
Sam giggles. Foyle raises his glass in a toast.
Foyle: Here's how.
They clink glasses.
Gascoigne house. Eleven-year-old evacuee Joe hurries down the grand staircase, carrying an exercise book. He sees Lawrence and his daughter Susan in the front room and dashes off in the opposite direction, into Lawrence's study. He opens his exercise book and starts going through the drawers of the desk. As he writes something in the book, Lawrence's wife Emily appears in the doorway.
Emily: What do you think you're doing? You know you're not allowed in here.
As Joe hastily moves away, his notebook catches a vase of flowers and sends it crashing to the floor.
Emily: Now look what you've done! Wretched boy!
Joe runs off through the lounge where the rest of the family are sitting.
Lawrence: Steady.
He passes Emily outside the room.
Emily: Don't run!
Joe ignores her and runs on to a door leading out into the grounds.
Emily: Oh!
Joe heads away across the gravel, running at a slight crouch.
Emily joins the others in the lounge.
Emily: That child is quite ungovernable.
Lawrence: What is it this time?
Emily: He was in your study, going through your desk.
Lawrence: Was he pilfering?
Susan: Daddy!
Emily: He's always poking and prying.
Lawrence: It was a foolish idea having him here in the first place.
Susan: Of course it was a foolish idea. It was my idea.
Lawrence: I know you acted for the best, but you have to agree, Joe's been a disaster from the very start.
Susan: No, I don't agree.
Lawrence: Table manners out of the zoo.
Susan: Well, you'll be glad to hear that he's going.
Lawrence: Is he?
Susan: His parents want him back. And it's not as if there've been any bombs in London.
Lawrence stands up to head over to the sideboard.
Lawrence: You didn't tell me the parents have been in touch.
Emily: Yes. They telephoned this morning.
Lawrence: Oh, that's good news.
Susan: It's the only thing this family has done to help the w*r effort, taking in an 11-year-old child, and you can't wait to see the back of him.
Emily: Your father has done a great deal to help the w*r effort.
Susan: Well done, Daddy. I'm going to find Joe.
She heads out of the room.
Carlo's. Carlo is just escorting Sam and Foyle out.
Carlo: Pleasure to meet you.
Sam: You, too, sir.
Carlo: Thank you. Eh, see you soon, Christopher.
He shake hands with Foyle again.
Foyle: I hope so.
Carlo: Ciao.
Foyle: Bye.
As they leave, Tony hurries after them, carrying some flowers.
Foyle and Sam head towards the car.
Sam: Thank you, sir.
Foyle: It's a pleasure.
Sam: Shall I run you home?
Tony opens the restaurant door behind them.
Tony: Miss Stewart. These are for you.
He gives her the flowers.
Sam: Thank you.
Tony: Look, I was wondering. This Friday...
Sam: What?
Tony: Would you like to come to the Palais? It's just I really want to go, but I've got no one to go with.
Sam: I'd love to. Er, I love dancing.
Tony: Would you?
Sam: Yes.
Tony: Well, that's great. Great.
He heads back into the restaurant.
Foyle: I'm going to walk home.
Gascoigne house. Susan walks through the house to Joe's room, where he's lying underneath the bed in his pyjamas, wrapped in a blanket.
Susan: Joe.
She ducks down to join him.
Susan: (What are you doing? Why aren't you in bed?)
Joe: Go away.
Susan: Joe, your father's coming for you. He's going to be here soon. He just thought you'd be safer here, that's all. Come on, Joe. Get into bed.
Joe: No. Not until you've gone.
Susan: All right. I'm going now. Sorry, Joe, I only wanted to help.
She leaves the room. Joe grabs his notebook and begins to write.
Night. Jack Winters approaches Carlo's and lets himself inside. He walks through into the back where Tony is sweeping the floor.
Jack: Tony.
Tony: Jack.
Jack laughs.
Tony: What are you doing here?
Jack: Don't worry. I haven't done a bunk. They let us all out. Everyone with three months or less to serve. Seems they need the Borstal for all those fifth columnists running around the country. Yeah, they're filling it with Jerries and Jews. Hey, can I stay here?
Tony: Um, I'll, I'll have to ask Dad.
Jack: Tony, you'd be-
Tony: I'm, I'm sure it'll be okay.
Jack: You're a real mate, you know that?
Tony: So, what are you going to do?
Jack: Well, I might start by paying a visit to that bastard judge. First offense, and he had me birched and thrown into that hellhole. I've been thinking about him a lot.
Tony: What'll you do to him?
Jack: I'll think of something. Can I have a drink?
Tony: Yeah. Yeah, of course, yeah.
Jack: And something to eat? I'm starved.
He sits down at a table.
Golf course. Hugh holds the flag while Foyle takes a putt.
Foyle: D'you know, the more I play this game, the worse I seem to get?
Hugh: Yes, it's probably your age.
Foyle: Thank you.
He takes another sh*t.
Foyle: Downhill putts. Go on forever. Least I managed to thrash Andrew the last time I played him.
His third sh*t finally goes in.
Foyle: Better.
Hugh: How is he?
Foyle: Well...
Hugh knocks his own ball in and retrieves Foyles to hand back to him.
Foyle: I haven't heard from him, so he obviously doesn't need any money.
The two of them walk across the golf course together.
Hugh: Actually, Christopher, there was an ulterior motive, inviting you out here.
Foyle: Well, there always is, Hugh.
Hugh: Yes. I wanted to talk to you about that man who d*ed in custody. I realise this probably isn't the place, but, um, well, I thought it better to do it outside the station.
Foyle: It was, um, su1c1de, wasn't it?
Hugh: Yes. Well, at least everything points to that. He hanged himself. Name of Beale. David Beale. Conscientious objector. He'd just had his application turned down, so I suppose that could have been the reason. Anyway, I've spoken to all the officers on duty that night, and they're all very unforthcoming.
He sets down his golf ball to take a sh*t at the next hole.
Hugh: They're backing one other up to the hilt.
Foyle: Probably means they're lying.
Hugh takes a sh*t.
Foyle: sh*t.
Hugh: Yes. Well, that's what I'm afraid of. But I don't want to push too hard, whereas, um, well, if you come in from the outside.
Foyle: See what I can do.
He takes his own sh*t, and looks disappointed.
Foyle: Hmm.
Hugh: Ah, sorry. Bad time to bring it up.
Foyle: Hmph.
A busy farm with lots of people at work. Theo Howard strides through and knocks on the door of one of the buildings.
Dining room, inside.
Theo: I came as soon as I heard.
Florence Beale is sitting at the table.
Florence: There's nothing you could have done, Theo. There was nothing any of us could do.
Theo: I'm so sorry. I should have been here.
Florence: You know what David was like.
She stands up and heads through into the kitchen.
Florence: How's the book going?
Theo: Who was the head of the tribunal?
Florence: Lawrence Gascoigne. Why do you want to know?
Theo: I'd like to meet him.
Florence: Why? It wouldn't do any good.
Theo: He kills David, and we do nothing? Because we're pacifists. That's what we do.
Florence: There's nothing we can do.
Theo: I wonder.
Foyle's office.
Foyle: David Beale, taken into custody a week ago.
Milner: Yes, I heard. He d*ed in his cell.
Foyle: Duty officer was a man called Ferris. There were at least three other men on that night. A few discreet enquiries. Keep it informal.
Milner: Sir.
Foyle: And a bit more about Beale himself, maybe? His wife, background, that sort of thing.
Milner: Right-o.
Foyle: Good. Thank you.
Gascoigne house, night. Joe lies on the floor under his bed, scribbling away at a drawing in his notebook.
Main bedroom. Lawrence sits up in bed and turns a lamp on.
Lawrence: There's somebody downstairs.
Emily (blearily): What time is it?
Lawrence: Erm, quarter past one. Oh, it's probably Joe again. Wait here.
He gets out of bed.
In his bedroom, Joe is still working on his drawing.
Staircase. The lights go on Lawrence and makes his way down.
Main bedroom. Emily sits up in bed, chilled, and wraps herself in the covers.
Joe's bedroom. He's still drawing. Then he hears the sound of glass smashing and moves to get up.
Main bedroom.
Emily: Lawrence?
Joe dashes out of his bedroom.
Staircase. Emily hurries down the stairs, followed by Susan. Joe watches from up above.
Emily: Lawrence?
Susan: Daddy, what is it? Daddy, what's going on?
They hurry to join Lawrence where he's standing in front of a big window, the curtains partially opened.
Lawrence: There was someone outside, and he threw something through the window.
He stoops to pick it up from the floor.
Emily: A note.
Lawrence opens it out to read, then shows it to the two women. There are words cut out from a newspaper pasted on.
Emily: "You, too, will receive justice"? Lawrence?
Joe is still watching from up above.
Gascoigne estate, day. Joe runs around the house to peer in through the window and see what's going on in the front room. Foyle is there along with Lawrence and Emily.
Lawrence: It's probably just nonsense, but Emily insisted.
Foyle: Get anything like this before?
Lawrence: Every judge gets threatened from time to time. Normally, it's just an outburst in the dock.
Emily: This is quite different.
Foyle: Well, it's odd in that it's, um, certainly a very considered thr*at, but if they really wanted to harm you, why are they telling you about it?
Lawrence: Quite. A brick through a window. Cut-out letters. It's really rather crude.
Foyle: And neither of you heard anything?
Emily: I was asleep. I suddenly woke up. I, I was shivering. It was terribly cold. I don't know why.
Foyle: Could this be, er, related to your work, do you think?
Lawrence: Not really. The last couple of months, I've been dealing with civil matters mainly. Requisitions, conscientious objectors, usual county court work.
Foyle: David Beale was one of yours, wasn't he?
Lawrence: Beale? Oh, yes. Of course, I can't comment on past cases.
Foyle: No, of course not. Right.
They all move to leave the room.
Foyle: Beautiful house, Mrs Gascoigne.
Outside, Joe hurries away from the window.
Emily (voiceover): Thank you. I was born here. It's been in my family for generations.
Lawrence (voiceover): It's a rambling place. In fact, we only use half of it.
Front hall.
Lawrence: Sometimes we talk about moving somewhere a bit more manageable.
Emily: Of course, I would never do that. This is my home. This is where I belong.
Outside, Joe hurries up a set of steps.
Sam is standing waiting by the car.
Joe: Who are you?
Sam: I'm Sam.
Joe: That's a man's name.
Sam: Well, it, it's short for Samantha. Who are you? And what are you doing?
Joe: Taking your number plate.
He peers into the car through the rolled-down window. Foyle approaches from behind him.
Sam: I'd watch out if I were you. There's a policeman standing behind you.
Joe turns around, sees Foyle and runs away.
Foyle: Who was that?
Sam: I don't know, but he's got our number.
She gets into the car.
The two of them are driving along.
Sam: Poison-pen letter?
Foyle: Well, not exactly. It wasn't written, was it? The words were cut out of magazines and newspapers.
Sam: Perhaps you could trace them, see which papers they came from. That might tell you something about the person who sent them.
Foyle: Well, that had occurred to me, you know.
She chuckles a little.
Sam: Sorry.
As the car drives onward, Peter Buckingham darts across the road behind it. He stops next to a tree to take a handwritten letter out of an envelope and look at it for a moment. Then he hurries on through the trees.
Foyle's office. Foyle enters, followed by Milner.
Milner: There were four officers on duty the night that Beale d*ed. I've talked to them all informally. They could all be involved, but I think William Ferris is the one you should see. The men are a bit in awe of him. And he has a brother, wounded at Dunkirk. I thought it might be relevant, Beale being a conscientious objector.
Foyle: Hmm, no, good point.
Milner: One other thing, sir. I spoke to the medical officer who examined Beale, and apparently his hair was wet and his clothes were damp, as if he'd showered and then got dressed in a hurry. And his shirt buttons were done up the wrong way.
Foyle: Get onto this, would you? Delivered by brick through the window of a judge called Lawrence Gascoigne last night.
He hands the note to Milner.
Milner: He was on Beale's tribunal.
Foyle: And if you don't know what to do with it, ask Sam.
Beale's cell. Foyle looks around. As he emerges from the cell, he sees the hose mounted on the wall outside. He touches the nozzle to see if it's wet.
Interview room. Ferris is sitting at the desk. Foyle enters.
Ferris: Permission to smoke, sir?
Foyle: Yeah, go ahead. You understand why I'm here?
Ferris: Look, sir, if it's about what happened, I had nothing to do with that. He came in, got into a funk, and he hanged himself.
Foyle: Why'd he do that, do you think?
Ferris: Maybe he was scared of the dark.
Foyle: Well, I can't put that in the report, you see, and that's what all this is about, reports. You see, a man dies in police custody, we've got to investigate, even a man like Beale. This is a waste of my time, it's a waste of your time, but-
Ferris: You don't like conchies?
Foyle sits down.
Foyle: I've got a lad in the RAF. I've got a sergeant who lost a leg at Trondheim.
Ferris: My brother was wounded at Dunkirk.
Foyle: Well, there you are, then. Is he all right?
Ferris: Can't wait to get back out again.
Foyle: Hmm.
Ferris: Look, you want to know what happened, off the record?
Foyle: See, off the record, I think I probably know. I just need a few details, fill in the blanks. For example, was it you who dressed him again after he was found?
Ferris: Yeah, it was me. How'd you know?
Foyle: It's quite difficult dressing a dead man. I mean, the buttons were done up wrong, and his hair was wet. Was that because, um, you sprayed him down with that hose?
Ferris: Look, sir, it was just a joke.
Foyle: Yeah, yeah. But your idea, though?
Ferris: Yeah, but I didn't know he was going to top himself.
Foyle: Not that it's any great loss.
Ferris: I'm with you on that one, sir. One dead conchie. Who cares?
Foyle: Yeah.
He starts writing.
Ferris: What are you going to put in your report?
Foyle: Well, I thought I'd start with your arrest for aggravated as*ault, which resulted in this man's su1c1de.
Ferris: What?
Foyle: And finish off with, er, your dismissal from the police force.
Gascoigne house. Susan hurries down the stairs. Checking around to see if she's being observed, she leaves the house.
Summerhouse. Peter Buckingham is pacing, waiting. He sighs.
Susan makes her way over to the summerhouse and lets herself in. Peter whirls around at the sound of the door.
Peter: So you got my note.
Susan: You shouldn't be here.
Peter: You mean I should have used the tradesman's entrance?
Susan: I told you what would happen if my father found you here again, and he did find you here. And now he's absolutely forbidden me to see you again.
Peter: He found me here because I can't bear not being with you.
Susan: And now we won't be able to see each other anymore.
Peter: Well, why do you listen to him? Your father's a bloody snob! Everything's changing.
Susan: I know that.
Peter: You told me you love me.
Susan: I do, but if he found you here again, there's no telling what he would do.
Peter: What have you got to lose? You don't need a house that's too big for you, a life that belongs to last century. You're not happy here.
Susan: Please, Peter-
Peter: I don't understand you. I would give everything, everything, just to be with you. Why can't you feel the same way?
He leaves the summerhouse. Outside, Joe is up a tree with his notebook. He watches Peter go and write something down.
Milner's office. He carefully removes one of the cut-out words from the note Foyle gave him and compares it against a newspaper. Then he writes something down.
Farm. Foyle and Sam drive up along a rough dirt track. They park and both get out. A man, Mr Szyszko, hails them as they approach.
Foyle: Morning. I'm looking for Mrs Beale?
Man: Ah.
He says something indistinct and points Foyle through a doorway. Sam lingers outside to watch another man sorting vegetables as Szyszko and Foyle head inside.
Schoolroom. Florence Beale is talking to a group of children who are doing some painting.
Florence: When you finish that, you just fold it over, and you have your butterfly.
Szyszko stops in front of the doorway and points Foyle through it.
Foyle: Mrs Beale?
Florence: Yes?
Foyle: Er, my name's Foyle. I'm a police officer. I wondered if I might have a word with you.
Florence: Go on. I don't think the children will mind, and Mr Szyszko doesn't speak any English.
Foyle: I'd like to speak to you about your husband.
Florence: Mr Szyszko.
She says something to him in Polish and he nods. Szyszko stays with the children while Florence heads out and Florence follows.
Foyle (voiceover): You certainly seem to have quite a community here.
Florence (voiceover): We've become quite a centre.
The two of them walk through the grounds outside together.
Florence: Full of refugees of one sort or another. Friends come with their children, pacifists. Mr Szyszko is Polish. You wanted to talk to me about my husband.
They stop in the entrance to a barn.
Foyle: Yes. I wanted you to know that I'm very sorry about what happened. It was wrong. I can promise you that the people involved will be punished, and if it's any consolation, nothing like this will happen again.
She raises her voice to call over Foyle's shoulder.
Florence: Theo? This is Mr Foyle. He's a policeman.
Theo is pitchforking hay in the back.
Florence: Theo was at Cambridge with David, and when we were married, he was our best man.
Theo: What is it this time?
Florence: Mr Foyle has come to apologise.
Foyle: You mean to assuage his guilt.
Foyle: I'm not here out of guilt, Mr Howard. I'm here because I feel it's the right thing to do.
Theo: David was a writer, you know? A promising one. He was published in Horizon. Eliot read his work and praised it. Then, I don't suppose you know much about poetry.
Foyle: I've read, er, "Ash Wednesday", "The Hollow Men."
Florence: David thought the world of him.
Theo: Why don't you investigate Lawrence Gascoigne?
Foyle: Why would I do that?
Theo: I've been looking at his record. He's presided over five tribunals in the last month. He dismissed four of the appeals, including David. But there was one, just one hearing, where he turned a strangely sympathetic ear. Stephen Brooks. He's now an official conscientious objector, a conchie. He's never been here. None of us have ever met him. And none of us ever will because now he's working in Dorset with the Forestry Commission, nicely out of harm's way.
Foyle: And?
Theo: Stephen's father is Raymond Brooks. I think you know him - rich, influential. Gascoigne certainly does. They club together.
Foyle: Well, whatever it is you're trying to suggest, there's, um- you don't have any evidence for.
Theo: What evidence do I need? David said from the start that Gascoigne was corrupt, and now David's dead, and you're here, trying to keep a lid on things.
Florence: Theo, that's not fair.
Foyle: "You, too, will receive justice"?
Theo: What does that mean?
Foyle: It was a note wrapped around the brick that went through Gascoigne's window last night. I don't suppose you know anything about that, do you?
Theo: No. But I'll tell you something, someone's got the right idea.
Sam and Foyle drive away from the farm. Florence watches them go.
Woman: Hey, Florence.
Farmhouse dining room.
Florence: You shouldn't have said that.
Theo: "Do not go into that dark place. Fear it. Fear the embrace that awaits you, for you must know it touches once and then will not let go."
Florence: David wrote that.
Theo: The w*r. All the hatred. I thought I could escape it with you, in this house.
Florence: You can. We have to stand by what we believe.
Milner's office. He continues working on the note. Once all the pasted words have been removed, he lifts the paper up. There's a transparent patch like a grease stain.
Foyle's office.
Milner: The individual words aren't going to tell us a great deal, but I've managed to identify a couple of them. Illustrated and the Daily Express. I'd say that's the work of someone not out of the top drawer.
Foyle: Or maybe they want us to think that. What's this?
He indicates the stain.
Milner: Machine oil, I think. And there are traces of it on some of the cuttings, too.
Foyle: That's a bit clumsy.
Milner: A brick through the window. It's not particularly subtle.
Foyle checks his watch.
Foyle: Right. Leave this with me, and you get off home, yeah?
Milner: Thank you, sir.
Street. Milner makes his way back home, walking with a cane.
Milner kitchen. Jane is taking something out of the oven.
Front hall. As Milner comes in, he sees a suitcase standing in the hall. He heads through into the kitchen.
Milner: Hello.
Jane: I didn't hear you come in.
He kisses her on the cheek.
Jane: Not now, Paul. Got the oven on and the table to lay. There's a beer in the cupboard if you want.
Milner: Thank you.
Jane: They've finished taking down the signposts, and the postman delivered a whole lot of these leaflets this morning.
She holds up a batch of leaflets to show him.
Milner: What do they say?
Jane continues to bustle about setting the table.
Jane: Hide your food. Hide your maps. Lock up your bicycles. Don't leave anything for the Germans. Makes you nervous to go out. Nothing is the same anymore.
Milner: I saw your case in the hall.
Jane: I thought I'd go away for a while.
Milner: Oh?
Jane: Kate's.
Milner: Wales?
Jane: Ever since Owen was called up, she's finding it hard to cope. It'll do me good to get away for a while.
Milner: What about me?
Jane: There's plenty of food in the pantry. I'll only be gone a couple of weeks. You don't mind, do you?
Milner: I suppose not. When are you leaving?
Jane: There's a train at eleven.
She sits down at the table, and Milner sits opposite her.
Milner: This is all very sudden.
Jane: Well, Kate needs me, and I don't want to hang around.
Milner: I'll miss you.
Jane: I'll write.
She starts to eat.
Police station staircase. Sam comes down the stairs. She's wearing a dress and has her hair down. Foyle spots her as he comes along the corridor.
Foyle: Sam?
Sam: Good evening, sir.
Foyle: Well, you're looking, er...
He smiles.
Sam: You, you said you didn't need me this evening, so I changed in the lavatory.
Foyle: Right.
Sam: I'm going to a dance.
Foyle: Oh, yes, with, um-
Sam: Tony.
Foyle: Mm.
Sam: To be honest, he's not really my type, but, er, I thought, in the circumstances, I didn't want to let him down.
Foyle: Well, you won't do that. Have a good time.
She nods and walks off. Foyle raises his eyebrows to himself as he turns away.
Foyle's office. He's still at work. He sits down to read a file on the tribunal of Stephen Brooks.
Dance hall. A live band is playing an instrumental tune while couples dance. Peter Buckingham sits at one of the tables. Sam and Tony are among the dancing couples.
Tony: You look great, out of uniform.
Sam: Thank you.
In the background, Jack Winters is just paying his fee to enter the hall.
Tony: So, have you been driving for him long, then, Mr Foyle?
Sam: Er, only a few months. Do you know him well?
Tony: Not really. Dad made the cake for his wedding, that's how they met.
Sam: That's nice.
The song comes to an end and Sam and Tony join the applause for the band. Peter Buckingham stands up from his table.
Tony: Do you want a drink?
Sam: Yes. Thank you.
He leads her off the dancefloor as a new song starts up. They sit down at one of the tables. There's a bit of an awkward silence.
Tony: Dad came over about twenty years ago. Used to run his own bakery.
Sam: Does he live over the restaurant?
Tony: Yeah. He gets up at five every morning to bake his own bread.
Sam laughs a little.
Sam: Sounds like his hours are even worse than mine.
Another lull in the conversation.
Sam: Have you ever been to Italy?
Tony: No. Dad's from Naples and one day I want to go. Maybe on my honeymoon. When, when I meet the right girl.
More silence.
Sam: You were going to get me a drink.
Tony: I'll be, I'll be right back.
He gets up.
Peter is standing on the dancefloor when he spots Susan Gascoigne coming in. He waves to her and she approaches him with a smile.
Peter: I was beginning to think you weren't coming.
Susan: I wasn't going to. I shouldn't really be here, but...
Peter: But what?
Susan: But I am. So will you dance with me?
They both laugh, and then begin to dance.
Jack Winters makes his way through the crowd and cuts in on a dancing couple.
Jack: Excuse me. Do you mind if I ask for a dance? Hey, sweetheart.
Peter and Susan are still dancing.
Peter: Relax.
Susan: I am.
Peter: No, you're not, you're scared.
Susan: You don't- you don't understand my father. Sometimes I wish...
Peter: What?
Susan: Nothing.
Tony brings a pair of pint classes over to Sam at the table.
Tony: There you go.
Sam: Thank you.
Jack: Excuse me, miss.
Jack breaks away from his dancing partner and walks up to Sam and Tony's table.
Jack: Hello, hello. What's going on here? You didn't tell me that you were seeing a lady.
Tony: Hello, Jack. This is Jack Winters. He's a mate of mine.
Jack: You've been keeping secrets, and a very pretty one. Do you mind if I join you?
Sam: As a matter of fact, I do. But thank you for asking.
She gets up and heads back to the dance floor.
Jack: So it's like that, then, is it?
Tony: Come on, Jack. Chuck it.
Jack: Yeah. See you later, Tony. We were going to meet up tonight, remember?
Tony: Quiet.
He rejoins Sam for another dance,
Tony: Er, I, I'm sorry about that.
Sam: Are you working tonight?
Tony: No, no, no. It's just Jack. Forget it.
Sam: All right.
The band break into a more upbeat tune and the couples keep dancing.
Gascoigne estate, night. A figure creeps through the grounds and into the summerhouse. Gloved hands wire the pin of a grenade to the doorhandle.
The next day. A phone is heard ringing inside the house.
Emily and Joe at the breakfast table in the conservatory. Joe is slurping tea from his mug.
Emily: There's no need to make that noise. Joe!
Susan is pouring tea nearby as Lawrence comes down the stairs to join them.
Emily: Who was it on the telephone?
Lawrence: He didn't say.
Emily: Well, what did he want?
Lawrence: He told me to go to the summerhouse.
Susan: What?
Lawrence: Said he'd left something for me in the summerhouse, and he rang off.
He sits down at the table, looking puzzled.
Emily: Isn't that rather strange?
Lawrence: Of course it's strange.
Susan: Well, aren't you going to see what it is?
Lawrence: Not now, no. I'm having breakfast.
Joe: I'll go.
Lawrence: No, you won't. Thank you, Joe.
Emily: Do as you're told. You're not to go in there.
Police station. Sam comes rushing in and hurries through the Foyle's office, knocking on the open door.
Sam: I'm sorry I'm late, sir.
Foyle: What happened?
Sam: I overslept.
Foyle: Good time?
Sam: Yes, I'm afraid I was out rather late last night. Won't happen again, sir.
Foyle: Cup of tea?
Sam: Mm-hmm.
Gascoigne estate. Joe sneaks through the grounds, running past the window where the others are having breakfast. He reaches the summerhouse and looks around to make sure he's not being watched. Then he turns the handle and opens the door. The pin is pulled from the grenade. Closing the door behind him, Joe just has time to see the grenade before the summerhouse explodes.
In the conservatory opposite, Susan sees the expl*si*n from the window.
Susan: Joe!
The Gascoignes hurry out towards the summerhouse.
Later. Joe's covered body is being taken out on a stretcher. Foyle and Sam are both inside the summerhouse.
Foyle: Why don't you go back to the car?
She nods and hurries away. Milner steps up and bends down to pick up the remains of the wire from the floor.
Milner: This was tied to the door handle. The grenade. Open the door and, er...
There's a moment of silence.
Milner: At least he wouldn't have felt anything.
Foyle: Well, some mercy in that, I suppose.
Milner: This was meant for Gascoigne.
Foyle turns to leave the summerhouse, and Milner follows him out.
Sam stands near the parked police cars, watching Joe's body be loaded into the ambulance. She's crying quietly.
Foyle (voiceover): Do all the family use the summer house?
Conservatory. Lawrence leads the way up the steps, Foyle and Milner following.
Lawrence: No, I had it built as a retreat. When I'm trying a particularly difficult case, I go there to think. I suppose that's why it was chosen.
Emily is waiting for them at the top of the stairs.
Emily: Joe should never have come into this house.
Lawrence: That's true. I was against it from the start.
Foyle: It's very commendable, taking in an evacuee, sir.
Lawrence: Well, it was a good idea in principle, but, ha, as it's turned out- oh, it's a horrible business. I feel personally responsible.
Milner: You mentioned that his father is coming today, sir.
Lawrence: Yes. His name is Pearson. Eric Pearson. Foyle, I don't suppose you could meet him? I don't think I can face it.
Foyle: Er, did Joe have his own room here?
Lawrence: Oh, yes.
Foyle: Would you mind if I saw it?
Emily: Why? This has nothing to do with Joe. It was Lawrence who was the target.
Foyle: Well, that's true, Mrs Gascoigne, but it was Joe who d*ed.
Lawrence: I'll take you there myself.
Foyle: Thank you.
Lawrence leads him and Milner up the stairs. Once they're gone, Emily starts to sob.
Upstairs landing.
Lawrence: This business of evacuees, thousands of children needlessly sent all over the country. It's been very badly handled.
Foyle: Better than doing nothing at all.
Joe's bedroom.
Lawrence: Joe had never slept in a bed before he came here. He thought sheets were for dead people. Oh, God, I wish he'd never come.
Foyle stoops down and picks up Joe's notebook from the floor beside the bed.
Foyle: Did he have any friends?
Lawrence: No, not that I know of. Oh, that's his exercise book. He carried it everywhere.
Foyle opens it and sees pages of annotated drawings.
Lawrence: He was eleven, but he had the level of a six-year-old.
Foyle shows him one of the drawings.
Foyle: I'd say that was you, wouldn't you? Mind if I keep this?
Lawrence: Of course. Whatever you want.
They head out of the room to go back downstairs.
Foyle: Would you make a list of trials and tribunals you've presided over?
Lawrence: Yes, of course.
Milner: And, sir, is there anyone you can think of who might want to hurt you?
Lawrence: No. Well...
Milner: Yes?
Lawrence: I did recently have a set-to with a man called Peter Buckingham. Oh, he wouldn't try anything like this.
Milner: A set-to?
Lawrence: Well, it's a very personal matter.
He stops at the house's front door.
Foyle: Well, a b*mb in a summer house is a rather personal statement, wouldn't you say?
Lawrence: Yes. Quite. Peter Buckingham was forcing his attentions on my daughter. He's a machine operator. He works at the factory.
Milner: Which factory?
Lawrence: Oh, it's next to the house on what used to be a farm. It's a plant, making munitions. Susan met this fellow in the village and began this- well, it was ridiculous. And in the end, I had to step in.
Foyle: Did he thr*aten you?
Lawrence: Not specifically.
Foyle: Could he have been the man on the phone?
Lawrence: I don't know.
Foyle: Right. I'm going to put two or three men outside here, Mr Gascoigne, if that's all right.
Lawrence: Is that necessary?
Foyle: Er, well, they missed this time. They may try again.
He leaves.
Emily is arranging flowers in another room.
Emily: I hate these people in here.
Lawrence: We don't really have a choice.
Emily: In my father's day, they'd never be allowed in the house.
Outside, Foyle's car is leaving.
Lawrence: Oh, that's exactly the point. In your father's day, they wouldn't have been allowed past the third footman. It was a different age, Emily. I wish you could see that.
Hastings train station. Foyle waits on the platform as the train arrives. Eric Pearson gets off and starts to walk along the platform.
Foyle: Excuse me. Mr Pearson?
Pearson: Yeah?
Foyle: I wonder if I might have a word with you.
Pearson: Who are you?
Foyle: Er, the name's Foyle. I'm a police officer.
Pearson: Why? What's the matter? Something wrong with Joe?
A room inside the railway station. Rain is pouring outside.
Pearson: You know, I never wanted Joe to leave London. I never wanted him to go. But they said it would be better for him. They said there'd be air raids and there weren't enough shelters. And, you know, Mr Foyle, even the missis said he'd be safer in the country. She said all the boys and girls were going. She said he'd be safe. And I took him to the station myself. And you've never seen so many kids. You could hardly see the platforms. And all luggage everywhere, mothers crying. Little boys and girls, all with those labels round their necks, you know, all being packed off.
Thunder rolls outside.
Pearson: But Joe... Joe didn't want to go. Joe held onto my leg. And in the end, they took him away, and they packed him off in a carriage with hundreds of them. And walking home... That was the strange thing, Mr Foyle, because the streets were empty. Nobody laughing, nobody crying, nobody shouting, nobody kicking a ball. I've never heard anything like it before in my life, Mr Foyle. It was a city with no kids, but I didn't mind. Because they said he'd be safe, and that's all that mattered to me. You know, he was safe. And for months and months, I've been sitting there in London, and not a single b*mb has fallen! And you're telling me now... That my son has been k*lled here, with strangers, because he just got in the way!
He takes a few gasping breaths.
Pearson: Now, where's this Gascoigne? I want to see him face to face. Where is he?
Foyle: Mr Pearson, there is nothing you can do here. You should go back.
Pearson: Yeah, no, no. No, Mr Foyle. I'm staying. And, er, I'm not leaving without my boy.
Foyle: Right. We'll find you a room. But there's no point in confronting him with this.
Pearson: I'm staying.
Farm. Theo strides through a pigpen. Florence comes riding up on her bicycle. She calls out as she stops next the buildings.
Florence: Theo!
Theo is working on screwing together a wooden frame as Florence comes hurrying up.
Florence: Theo. Where did you go last night?
Theo: What?
Florence: You went out. Where were you?
Theo: Why?
Florence: I've just come from the village, and they're saying that someone tried to k*ll Lawrence Gascoigne.
Theo: What are you talking about? Why are you asking me?
Florence: You know why.
Theo: Do I? Florence, for God's sake, we've marched together. We've been to meetings. All my life, like you and David, I've been against k*lling. Now are you telling me-?
Florence: I don't know. And after what you said... And you weren't here last night.
Theo: You said someone tried to k*ll Lawrence Gascoigne. Did they succeed?
Florence: No.
Theo: Shame.
Police station lobby. Tony is there, taking a few breaths to psych himself up. Sam comes through from the back.
Sam: Tony? What are you doing here?
Tony: Er, I had to see you again.
Sam: Not here.
Tony: I, I, I, I need to talk to you.
Sam: You're going to get me sh*t.
Tony: It's just... I had such a great night last night. And, and you enjoyed it, too?
Sam: It was fun.
Tony: Will you come out again tonight?
Sam: Well, I-
Tony: We, we can- we can go and have a drink, maybe. I, I really need to talk to you about something.
Sam: Is it about your friend?
Tony: No, no. It's nothing to do with that, but, um, it's important. Please?
Sam: All right. Well, I, I finish at six, so I'll meet you outside.
Tony: Six.
Sam: Now, go. Go on.
He leaves.
Foyle's office.
Foyle: Now we should put somebody inside Gascoigne's house, you know. Three men outside isn't enough.
Milner: Who do you have in mind?
Foyle: Well, um, having arrested four of our own men, we're a bit bloody short-staffed, aren't we?
Milner: I could do it, sir.
Foyle: Mm. Didn't like to ask. What about your wife?
Milner: Oh, she's had to go to her sister's in Wales.
Foyle: Right. Thank you.
There's a knock on the door.
Foyle: Yes?
Sam comes in.
Foyle: Sam, won't be a minute. Where have you put Pearson?
Sam: He's in the Crescent, sir.
Foyle: Good. And we must get round to these.
He taps a stack of papers on the desk as he goes over to get his coat.
Foyle: Do you recognise any of those names?
Milner takes a look.
Milner: No.
Sam: What are these?
Milner: Gascoigne's cases over the last six months.
Sam: Jack Winters. I know him. I met him at the dance last night.
Milner: Could be the same man. Gascoigne sent him down for burglary and as*ault. He was birched and given six months.
Sam: Oh, he didn't mention any of that.
Foyle: Well, he wouldn't, would he? You get over there. I'll make sure he knows.
Milner: Sir.
Foyle: Sam?
He heads out of the office, Sam following.
Sam and Foyle are driving along a rough dirt track.
Sam: Yes, he turned up at the dance. I can't say I took a great shine to him. To be honest, I think Tony's a little in awe of him.
Foyle: Did he say anything at all?
Sam: No, sir.
Foyle: Oh.
Sam: Sorry. Do you want me to ask Tony about him?
Foyle: No, better not.
There's a warning sign beside the road that reads 'No members of the public permitted beyond this point'. A soldier approaches their car.
Sam: Ah. I think this is as far as we can go.
Foyle: Looks like it.
Gascoigne house. Lawrence meets Milner at the front door.
Lawrence: Ah, sergeant. Now, I can't pretend I'm entirely happy with this situation, but I suppose needs must.
Milner: That's what Mr Foyle said, sir.
Lawrence: Are you armed?
Milner: Yes.
Lawrence: Well, try to think of yourself as a house guest while you're here. I don't know how long this is supposed to go on, but still. Oh, this is my daughter Susan.
She's sitting nearby.
Lawrence: Susan, this is Sergeant Milner.
Milner: Good day, miss.
She stands up.
Susan: Good afternoon.
Lawrence: Perhaps you could show him to his room.
Susan: Yes, of course. It's through here.
Factory grounds. A soldier opens the gate. The foreman, Hawkins, stands on the other side.
Hawkins: Can I help you?
Foyle: I hope so. Who are you?
Hawkins: I'm the foreman here, Hawkins.
Foyle: I'm a police officer. I'd like to speak to a Peter Buckingham who I understand works here.
Hawkins: Er, I'm afraid I can't allow you in.
Foyle: Why is that?
Hawkins: We work for the w*r Office. If you want to come in here, you'll have to talk to them.
Foyle: Right. Er, what is it you do here?
Hawkins: Produce munitions.
Foyle: Right. Er, is Peter Buckingham here?
Hawkins: You can talk to him if you like, but you can't go into the factory, and he can't discuss his work. Just wait here, and I'll get him.
Foyle: Right.
Later. Peter has arrived. They stand just inside the gates with Hawkins waiting nearby.
Peter: It seems you know everything. Not that it's any of your business, like. Well, I met Susan in the village. I didn't know who she was then. We began to see each other.
Foyle: Where did you see each other?
Peter: We went walking. In the fields and woods and that. But that wasn't enough for me, so I started coming to the house. There's this summerhouse that-
Foyle: Ah, you went there, did you?
Peter: Lots of times. Till we went there once too often, and her dad turned up. He saw us together, and that was it.
Foyle: Been back to the summer house?
Peter: No. No, er, I'm not seeing Susan anymore. Look. I never threatened Gascoigne. He threatened me. If he found me on his property again, it'd be the police, prison and God knows what. Now, is that all? I've got to get back to my work.
Foyle: Yes, of course. What is it you do?
Peter: I'm a machine operator.
Foyle: Oh, right. Well, thanks for your time. Very pleased to meet you.
He shakes hands with Peter.
Peter: Right.
Foyle heads back out, Hawkins closing the gates behind him. Foyle starts walking back to the car with Sam.
Foyle: It's a bit odd, isn't it?
Sam: What is, sir?
Foyle: A metalworker, machine operator- with clean hands?
Sam: Maybe he washed them.
Foyle: Hmm, maybe. They're supposed to be making munitions here.
Sam: Yes?
Foyle: Well, would you want to transport expl*sives along tracks like these? Look at them. And metalworking, hardening steel, you'd need furnaces, lots of heat, wouldn't you?
Sam: I suppose so.
Foyle: Well... There's no chimneys.
Sam turns to look back at the factory building as Foyle gets into the car.
Gascoigne estate. Milner stands just outside the door, surveying the surrounding landscape. Susan comes out of the house behind him.
Susan: Hello, Sergeant Milner.
Milner: Miss Gascoigne.
Susan Oh, please, you can call me Susan. Daddy doesn't like me smoking in the house. Actually, he doesn't like me smoking at all. You won't tell him, will you?
Milner: No. Course not.
She lights a cigarette.
Susan: I can't stop thinking about poor Joe.
Milner: Were you close to him?
Susan: I tried to be, but he hated being here. You could see it in his eyes. The Nazis were never the enemy as far as he was concerned. We were.
Milner: I'm sure that's not true.
Susan: I can understand it. Coming from the East End, this place must have seemed like another planet.
Milner: It's a big house.
Susan: We don't even use half of it. What's the point of having servant's quarters when you can hardly even afford servants?
Milner: It was good of you, taking in an evacuee.
Susan: Well, just for once, I was determined to have my own way. I went to the station, and there were all these children lined up, hundreds of them, all labelled with their suitcases. The good-looking ones went first, and then the strong ones who might be able to help around the house. Joe was one of the last, and I chose him because he reminded me of me.
She's starting to tear up.
Milner: Of you?
Susan: Left out. I had all sorts of ideas, like he might be like the little brother that I never had. But it didn't work out like that.
Lawrence (offscreen): Susan?
Milner: Here, quick.
He takes her cigarette. Lawrence appears in the doorway.
Lawrence: Ah, there you are.
Susan: We were just talking, Daddy.
Milner: I hope you don't mind my smoking, sir.
Lawrence: So long as you don't do it in the house. Come inside, Susan. Don't want you catching cold.
As Susan follows him in she mouths a thank you to Milner.
Carlo's. Foyle and Carlo are sitting at one of the tables.
Carlo: How many years you been coming here now?
Foyle: Too many.
Carlo: I still remember the first day you came, you and Mrs Foyle.
Foyle: Well, we weren't actually married then. And do you know... think that was the worst meal we ever had.
Carlo: The chef was sick.
Foyle: I'm surprised we ever came back, you know?
Carlo: And the world's not the same anymore. Mussolini. He and h*tler. He's crazy enough to declare w*r. It could happen any day now, and what then, eh? What happens to my family and me?
Foyle: Italy might still stay neutral.
Carlo: I don't think so. Everyone's afraid. You know, there's a restaurant called the Casa Alberta. They're changing their name to Le Chateau d'Or. Suddenly it's French. New name, new menu, same owner.
Foyle: You might have to do the same.
Carlo: And then there's Tony. Oh, he's a good boy. He works hard. But his heart, hmm? It's not in the business. I worry about him.
Foyle: The name, um, Jack winters mean anything to you?
Carlo: Yeah. That's a friend of his. Jack Winters. The two of them were at school together. I don't like him. He smiles, he's very charming, but he's no good.
Foyle: He was at Borstal.
Carlo: You think he's mixed up in something?
Foyle: Probably not.
Carlo: You'd tell me if Tony was getting himself involved.
Foyle: Well, the only thing, um, Tony's involved with at the moment, Carlo, is my driver.
Towpath. Tony and Sam, now in civilian dress, are walking beside the river.
Tony: Thanks for coming out again.
Sam: It's a pleasure.
Tony: You see, there's something I wanted to talk to you about.
Sam: Is it about Jack?
Tony: No. No, no. He's all right, Jack. I, I, I mean, I'm sorry about him turning up the other night. No, no. I wanted to talk about you and me.
Sam: Oh. Really?
Tony: Look, Sam. The thing is... I've joined up. Any day now, I'm going to be in uniform.
Sam: That's wonderful, Tony.
Tony: I'm not sure Dad's going to see it that way. But I can't spend the w*r as a waiter in a little restaurant.
Sam: When are you going to tell him?
Tony: I don't know. Soon. But the thing is... When I think about fighting and sh**ting and all the rest of it, I really get the heavies, you know? I'm scared. And the other thing is- look, I shouldn't be saying this. I've never really had a girlfriend, not a real one, and I wish... It would be easier if there was someone I could write to. Someone who could write to me. You know? I shouldn't ask. I, I hardly know you.
Sam: Course I'll write to you, Tony. I'll even send you cigarettes and socks if you like.
Tony: You'll be my girl back home?
Sam: Keep the home fires burning.
She gives him a brief kiss.
A grand office building. Foyle comes in and heads up the stairs.
Brooks (voiceover): Mr Foyle, how nice to see you.
A woman holds the door open to let Foyle into a large, spacious office.
Brooks: Do come in. Has somebody offered you a cup of tea?
Foyle: Er, not for me, thanks.
Brooks: That'll be all, then, Evelyn. Make sure we're not disturbed.
Evelyn: Yes, sir.
She leaves.
Brooks: Please, sit down.
Foyle takes a seat.
Foyle: You certainly have, um, extensive business interests, Mr Brooks.
Brooks: Well, I was lucky. My father owned tin mines. Now we make everything from tin cans to shell cases, and I think we're going to be making an awful lot more of those in the days to come.
Foyle: In your factories in Southampton?
Brooks: Yes, yes. That's right. Investigating me?
Foyle: Er, no, not at all. This is, er, something involving Lawrence Gascoigne. Um, you have a close association with him.
Brooks: Yes. We've been working together on the defence committee.
Foyle: But beyond that, you, er, you have other connections.
Brooks: What makes you say that?
Foyle gives a slight shrug.
Brooks: Yes, We see each other from time to time socially. I've been to his house.
Foyle: Just recently?
Brooks: Yeah. Confidential matter.
Foyle: To do with your son?
Brooks turns and paces away from him.
Foyle: Er, you have a son, Stephen, er, who's in Dorset, is that right?
Brooks: I prefer not to speak about Stephen. We're not on speaking terms. I'm not very proud of what I did, Mr Foyle, but, yes, I did go and see Lawrence Gascoigne, and I'm gonna tell you why. You may know that I, I fought in the w*r. I came out of it unscathed.
Foyle: And decorated?
Brooks: That, too. And when this second w*r came, I had every expectation that Stephen would do the same, but I was wrong. He told me he had no intention of fighting. He came out with some half-baked nonsense about peace and democracy and civilised values, as if he couldn't see that the Nazis were going to burn and plunder their way across Europe if someone didn't stand in their way. Well, we had a bitter argument. To be honest, we've hardly spoken since. Anyway, the next thing I heard was that Stephen was going up before a tribunal as a self-professed conscientious objector. And by coincidence, the judge was going to be Lawrence Gascoigne. So I decided to go and see him. I wanted to tell him what I believed and what I believe to this day. That Stephen was afraid to fight. That he was no more a conscientious objector than you or I. You may say that what I did was wrong. It was a matter of pride for me.
Foyle: And so what happened?
Brooks: Gascoigne barely heard me out. I'd hardly mentioned Stephen's name before the conversation was over. He was very angry that I'd gone there at all.
Foyle: And so were you surprised that your son's name was added to the register of conscientious objectors?
Brooks: No, I wasn't surprised. I suppose Gascoigne did what he had to do, but, er... I no longer have anything to do with Stephen. As far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a son.
Farm building. Theo opens a box and pulls out a revolver. He tucks it into his waistband.
Florence (offscreen): Theo?
Florence arrives at the doorway of the building where Theo is crouched.
Florence: Theo. What are you doing?
He stands up to leave.
Florence: Where are you going?
Theo: I'm sorry. I can't explain. There's something I have to do.
Florence: What?
Theo: Florence, forgive me. I'll be back soon.
He strides away. She looks back into the building he came from.
Foyle's office. Foyle is on the phone.
Foyle: It's just called the factory. I don't know anything more about it except they claim to have some link with the w*r Office.
Hugh Reid enters the room.
Foyle: I... Let me know. Thank you.
He hangs up the phone.
Foyle: Anything?
Hugh: No. But I do know that this man Peter Buckingham is no metalworker. He's a carpenter by trade.
Foyle: This is a notebook kept by the, um, boy that the Gascoignes took in, the evacuee. Fancies himself as a bit of a policeman, I think. This, what do you make of it?
He hands the book across to Hugh. Writing at the top of the page reads 'FAC RAY 345 PAY SOOO'.
Hugh: "Facray".
He shakes his head.
Foyle: Could he have meant "factory", do you think? The factory was next door, and it's shrouded in secrecy. The gates are bolted. Just the sort of thing he'd have been curious about.
Hugh: Well, what about these other words? "Pay sooo".
Foyle: Don't know. Could be anything.
Hugh: What, you think that the boy was the real target and not Gascoigne?
Foyle: I don't really see how he could have been. It was Gascoigne who got the phone call that told him to go to the summerhouse.
Hugh: Well, I suppose there's one way you'll find out. If someone has another go.
Gascoigne estate. Susan sits on the steps outside the house.
Susan: Are you really going to stand here keeping watch?
Milner: That's what I'm here for.
Susan: Do you have a g*n?
Milner: I feel like James Cagney with it shoved into my waistband.
He chuckles. Then he stiffens as he spots something in the underbrush, and raises a finger to his lips. Susan turns to follow his gaze.
Susan: What is it?
Milner: There's someone down there. Wait here.
A figure is lurking beneath the trees. Milner draws his g*n and starts down the steps. Susan leans out to watch. Milner arrives at the trees to see someone running away. A uniformed policeman comes running up.
Milner: Quick, this way. Go straight ahead. Through the woods.
Policeman: Roger.
He and another officer take off after the running man, whistles blowing. The man is revealed to be Theo, holding the g*n in his hand. He pants as he comes to a halt amid the trees.
Night. Susan is outside the house with a cigarette. She hides it quickly at the sound of the door. Milner emerges from the house.
Susan: (Oh. it's you.)
Milner: You shouldn't really be out here, Miss Gascoigne. He could come back.
Susan: Why, are you afraid I'll get sh*t?
Milner: Actually, you're breaking the blackout. Your cigarette.
She laughs.
Susan: I'll put it out.
She takes another drag, then stubs it out. They both go back inside to the lounge.
Susan: Can I ask you something? Are you married?
Milner: Yes.
Susan: Are you very much in love? Sorry. I shouldn't be asking these questions. It's... I've got nobody to turn to.
Milner: Miss Gascoigne-
Susan: There's somebody I've met, and he's asked me to marry him, and I want to. I love him. But my father won't hear of it. He won't even-
Milner: I'm on duty here.
Susan: How much does the world have to change before people like us can behave how we want to and not how we're expected to?
Milner: You shouldn't be talking to me like this.
Susan: It's just that you're the only person I've had to talk to.
She's starting to get upset.
Milner: It's all right.
He puts a comforting arm around her shoulders.
Susan: Why can't I marry the man I love? Why does my father have to stop me?
Milner: I'm sure he just wants what's best for you.
The door opens and Lawrence comes into the room.
Lawrence: What on Earth do you think you're doing?
Susan: Daddy, it, it's, it's not what you think.
Emily comes into the room after Lawrence.
Lawrence: Oh, take her to her room.
Emily: I beg your pardon?
Lawrence: You heard me. Take her upstairs.
Susan: He wasn't doing anything!
She huffs and st*lks out past Emily.
Emily: What?
Confused, she looks at Milner then moves after Milner.
Milner: Sir-
Lawrence: I want you out of my house!
Milner: Believe me, sir-
Lawrence: I saw what you were doing.
Milner: She was upset.
Lawrence: You will leave this instant.
Milner: No, sir. I'm here to protect you.
Lawrence: Get out!
Carlo's. Tony is putting on his coat while Carlo counts the money in the till.
Carlo: You going out?
Tony: We're just about finished here, ain't we?
Carlo: Where are you going?
Tony: Just out.
Carlo: Antonio. Please, I worry about you.
Tony: Why?
Carlo: You're going to see Jack Winters, right?
Tony: Dad, when are you going to realise I'm not a little boy anymore? I can look after myself.
Carlo: The police know about him. He's trouble.
Tony: Dad, I need to talk to you about something. Now, I've made a decision.
Carlo: If it's to do with Jack Winters, I don't want to know.
Tony: I tell you what, doesn't matter. Don't wait up.
He walks away.
Gascoigne estate, night. A g*nsh*t is heard from inside the house.
Grounds. Two men run away from the house and into the trees, pursued by a trio of policemen.
Policeman: No-
One of them tackles one of the men to the ground. It's Tony.
Tony: I'm sorry!
Policeman 2: Let go!
Policeman 3: Hold it! Hold it!
Policeman: I got him. I got him. Come on.
Policeman 2: That's enough of that, all right?
Policeman 3: That's it. Hang on.
He restrains the other man against a tree. It's Jack Winters.
Gascoigne house, lounge. Lawrence lies dead on the floor, the ambulance officers just in the process of covering the body.
Milner: It looks as if he was the target, sir.
He and Foyle are standing by watching.
Foyle: Yes. Looks like it. There's no sign of any w*apon?
Milner: No.
Foyle: And all the doors were locked?
Milner: Yes.
Foyle: And all the windows were locked?
Milner: And nothing's been tampered with.
Foyle: Right.
Milner: I should have been here, sir.
Foyle: No, that's all right.
Milner: He completely misunderstood. I-
Foyle: No. I just wonder why, er, if he really thought his life was in danger, why he should choose to, um, lose his police bodyguard?
Emily and Susan enter the room. Emily sinks down to sit on the sofa.
Foyle: Mrs Gascoigne, what can you, um, tell me about last night?
She doesn't say anything.
Foyle: I mean, your, your husband and Susan had an argument, is that right?
Emily: Yes. He was very angry. He came downstairs. He wanted to be alone.
Foyle: And then what? Did you hear anything?
Emily: I heard a sh*t.
Foyle: D'you keep a g*n in the house, Mrs Gascoigne?
Susan: My father kept a g*n in the top drawer of his desk. He was worried about the invasion.
Foyle points towards the desk.
Susan: It's the top right-hand drawer.
Foyle: Top right-hand drawer?
He opens it, and then the other drawer.
Foyle: It's not here.
Foyle's office. He's sitting at his desk. there's a knock at the door.
Foyle: Yes?
Sam: Sir?
Foyle: Sam.
Sam: Is it true they've arrested Tony?
Foyle: And Jack Winters, yes.
She sits down opposite Foyle.
Sam: I really don't think he had anything to do with Gascoigne's death.
Foyle: Well, except that he was at the house when it happened.
Sam: I don't think he wanted to be there.
Foyle: He's responsible for his own actions.
Sam: I just think you ought to know that he's just joined up. He didn't want anyone to know. I just don't think he had it in him to hurt anyone, sir.
Police interview room. Tony sits behind the table.
Tony: I don't know what to say to you, Mr Foyle.
Foyle: What the hell did you think you were doing, Tony?
Tony: It was Jack's idea. Wanted to get his own back.
Foyle: By sh**ting him?
Tony: No. He was just going to break in, make a mess. I tried to talk him out of it, I swear.
Foyle: You're joining up, is that right?
Tony: Sam told you.
Foyle: Why haven't you told your dad?
Tony: I was going to, Mr Foyle, but after this... They won't have me, I don't suppose.
Foyle: They'll have you, Tony. You've not been arrested... yet. Tell your father.
He leaves the room.
Another interview room. Milner is interviewing Jack Winters.
Milner: You were caught in the grounds of Lawrence Gascoigne's house.
Jack: I didn't go anywhere near the house. I wasn't doing nothing wrong.
Milner: You were trespassing.
Jack: Trespassing? Ooh.
Milner: You were planning to break in.
Jack: Says you.
Milner: We found a bag and a crowbar.
Jack: Those were Tony's.
Milner: You still have two months of your sentence left to serve. Isn't that right? We can arrange for you to go back.
Jack: And what about Tony? He gets off scot-free because your boss knows his dad?
Police station lobby. Carlo hurries up as Foyle is coming out from the back.
Carlo: Christopher.
Foyle: Carlo.
Carlo: Please tell me it isn't true. You told me Tony wasn't involved, and now they tell me that he's mixed up in a m*rder. Where is he?
Foyle: He's downstairs. He's all right. Come in here.
Carlo: You've spoken to him?
Foyle: I've spoken to him. Of course I've spoken to him.
Carlo: He's not involved. You know that.
Foyle: Carlo, for heaven's sake, how long have I known him? Really. I'm going to tell you this, but believe me, he will tell you. You ought to know that he's joined up.
Carlo: He's done what?
Foyle: He's joined up, and he's not telling you because you're angry with him.
Carlo: This makes me proud of him, Christopher. In Italy, in Germany, we have to fight fascism.
Foyle sees Tony being escorted out from the back.
Foyle: Well, will you tell him that? He's free to go. Take him home.
Carlo: Thank you, Christopher.
Foyle: It's a pleasure.
Sam is standing by as Carlo rounds the corner and sees Tony. He spreads his arms and gives Tony a hug.
Foyle: Sam.
He beckons her away.
Sam and Foyle are driving along.
Sam: Are we going back to Gascoigne's place?
Foyle: No, we're not. Right here.
He points.
Sam: To the factory?
Foyle: Yes.
The car pulls up to the factory gates.
Hawkins stands in the gateway.
Hawkins: I'm sorry, Mr Foyle. I've already told you.
Foyle: Mr Hawkins, the w*r Office has disavowed any knowledge of you and this factory. You're not working for them, and you're not producing munitions here, either. An eleven-year-old child has d*ed, quite possibly as a result of what's going on here. Now, you either tell me what that is, or I arrest you for obstruction.
Hawkins: All right, Mr Foyle, but I'll be reporting back on this.
He looks towards the solider on gate duty.
Hawkins: Open the gate.
Foyle walks in after him. Sam gets back in the car to drive it inside before getting out to follow.
Inside the factory. The three of them walk through to a big open room.
Hawkins: Now maybe you'll understand why this place is off-limits. Those are my orders from the Ministry of Health.
Sam: But why?
Hawkins: They're preparing. They know what's coming. The Luftwaffe, the most powerful air force in the world.
Around the room, men are at work on building a large quantity of coffins.
Hawkins: Eh, here's been a few bombs down in the southeast, but that was just a taster. Soon they'll target London, and there's going to be more bodies than you can imagine. And they're going to need coffins. Someone has to make them.
Sam: Yeah. But...
Hawkins: Nobody's meant to know. They're worried about morale.
He chuckles.
Hawkins: And with good reason. Have you seen enough?
Foyle: Yes, thank you.
He and Sam leaves. The camera pans up to show the true scale of the coffin-making operation.
Brooks' office building. Foyle enters and heads up the stairs.
Brooks (voiceover): Nice to see you again, Mr Foyle. What can I do for you?
Brooks' office.
Foyle: I was wondering what, er, access the defence volunteers have to weapons.
Brooks: Getting any sort of w*apon is almost impossible.
Foyle: No r*fles? No grenades?
Brooks: Molotov cocktails is more the mark. At the moment, I have about one r*fle for every fifteen men in the unit. The situation's absurd. We're doing valuable work, defending vital installations. How we're supposed to do that without proper support is beyond me.
Foyle: Lawrence Gascoigne, um, ever visit the unit?
Brooks: Er, yes. Once. Gascoigne's dead. You were supposed to protect him.
Foyle: Well, I couldn't protect him, Mr Brooks, because he was lying to me in much the same way as you have been.
Brooks: What are you saying?
Foyle: I'm saying that you haven't been telling me the truth about your visit to Gascoigne, or, indeed, about your son.
Brooks: I thought I had.
Foyle: So did I. This, amongst other things, is a record of comings and goings and observations, um, by the eleven-year-old evacuee that the Gascoigne family took in. This, for example, is a note about my visit to the house. And, er, this is a note about my car registration number.
He shows Brooks the notebook, open to the page he was looking at before.
Foyle: And this over here is a note about your visit to the house. This word, for example, "facray". I thought it was probably a misspelling of the word "factory" because there was a factory, er, next door to the house.
Brooks: Isn't it?
Foyle: No. In fact, it's your car registration number, FAC 345. This is your name, and this here, in the same way that he got, er, his 'S's the wrong way round, he got his twos the wrong way round, and so, in fact, his twos look like 'S's, and this is, in fact, the amount, £2,000, that you paid to Gascoigne to make sure that your son wouldn't have to fight, which does, in fact, correspond with the amount that was withdrawn from your private account the day before you met. If you remember, the last time I was here and you told me that you weren't speaking to your son, but, in fact, you phoned his Dorset number from this number, er, a dozen times since then. £2,000, was it? That's an awful lot of money.
Brooks: I did bribe Gascoigne. I wasn't the first. Gascoigne lived way beyond his means, and word got around that, from time to time, he could be bought.
Foyle: I don't understand why.
Brooks: You have no idea. What I saw in the w*r. Passchendaele... was a stinking quagmire. I saw men step off the duckboards and drown in mud. I saw men... blown apart. What did we achieve? Here we are at w*r again, the same enemy. We achieved nothing. I wasn't going to let that happen to Stephen. I love him too much.
Foyle nods.
Train station ticket office. Theo is paying for a ticket. Florence stands beside him.
Ticker Seller: Thank you, sir.
Theo: Thank you for coming with me.
Florence: I still can't believe you're joining up.
Theo: Can you forgive me?
Florence: There's nothing to forgive. David and I never tried to force what we thought on anyone.
Theo: I know that.
The leave the office, heading down a set of stairs.
Florence: But I wish I understood.
The two of them re-emerge from the stairs on the other side of the platform.
Theo: I loved David, you know. He was so talented. He was funny. He was kind. He was my best friend. And the fact is that Lawrence Gascoigne k*lled him. I know he didn't tie the noose, but it came down to the same thing.
Florence: You went round to his house, didn't you? And you had a g*n.
Theo: Hadn't been touched since the last w*r. I don't even know if it works.
Florence: Did you find out?
Theo: No, of course not. I didn't get anywhere near. There were police all over the place. But it made me realise I wanted to k*ll him. I really did. Oh, I was in the grip of some sort of... some sort of madness. Hatred. I've never felt anything like it. It was totally overpowering. David used to talk about the w*r as a lesson in m*rder. He was right. I still believe in pacifism, Florence. That hasn't changed, but I'm as capable of k*lling as the next man. So I might as well use that capability and do my bit to save civilization. I can fight, so I should.
The train approaches the station.
Other platform. Pearson steps out from the ticket office. Foyle follows him through.
Foyle: I'm very pleased you've decided to go back, Mr Pearson.
Pearson: I don't want to be here.
Foyle: I understand.
Pearson: Thank you, Mr Foyle. I know you tried to do your best.
They head down the stairs together.
Opposite platform. Theo is about to board the train.
Theo: Well, I suppose this is goodbye. Will you write to me?
Florence: Of course I'll write to you, Theo. And I'll still be here when you come back.
Theo: I'm sorry.
Florence: Oh, don't. Just look after yourself.
They hug.
Behind them, Pearson and Foyle are coming up the steps.
Pearson: Joe used to send me picture postcards. I don't read too well. I come down a couple of times. Used to get a special rate on the railways. I used to take him out for tea. The, er, Gascoignes didn't want me up at the house. They, er, what is it they said? Would've been far too hard for Joe. Ha.
He boards the train. Foyle speaks to him through the open window.
Foyle: Joe knew you were coming?
Pearson: I telephoned him, yeah.
Foyle: Did he say anything?
Pearson: Well, he was pleased, you know. Said he had a lot to tell me.
The train whistle blows.
Foyle: I bet he did.
Pearson: Do you know who k*lled him, Mr Foyle?
Foyle: Yes.
Pearson: Yeah. God rot 'em, whoever it is, eh?
Foyle: Mmm.
The train pulls away.
Gascoigne house, lounge. Foyle and Milner stand facing a politely smiling Emily.
Foyle: Mrs Gascoigne. I'm here to arrest you for the m*rder of your husband.
Emily: Yes. Yes, yes. Er, have I time to pack a few things?
Foyle: You just need your coat.
Emily: I understand.
She walks out and they follow her.
Hallway. Susan comes down the staircase as a policeman is escorting her mother out.
Susan: Mr Milner, what's going on?
Milner: I'm sorry, Miss Gascoigne.
Emily, still composed, walks out to get in the police car.
Susan (offscreen): Where are you taking my mother?
Foyle (offscreen): Miss Gascoigne, I'm afraid I've got some rather bad news for you.
Lounge. Foyle sits opposite Susan and Peter Buckingham.
Foyle: See, Joe was about to return to his parents in London.
Flashback to Susan in Joe's bedroom.
Susan: Joe, your father's coming for you.
Foyle: And the timing just couldn't have been worse as far as your father was concerned because it was only a little while before that he'd discovered that Joe had either seen him or overheard him accepting a £2,000 bribe from a businessman.
Susan: And Joe was going to tell?
Foyle: If he had, er, your father would have lost everything. A judge taking bribes on that sort of scale. It wouldn't just have meant the end of his career. He'd most certainly have gone to jail.
Susan: What about the death threats?
Foyle: The death threats weren't real because your father made them himself.
Flashback to Lawrence pasting cut out words onto a sheet of paper.
Foyle (voiceover): To make it seem that he and not Joe was the intended victim.
Susan looks incredulous.
Foyle: The brick through the window.
Flashback to Lawrence throwing the brick through from outside.
Foyle: He threw it himself. And the note.
Intercut with a flashback to Emily reading the note.
Emily: "You, too, will receive justice"?
Foyle: He prepared that himself.
Emily: Lawrence?
Foyle: And he even went as far as trying to settle another score by implicating you.
Intercut with a flashback to Lawrence talking to Foyle and Milner.
Lawrence: I did recently have a set-to.
Foyle: The only person he mentioned was you.
Lawrence: Peter Buckingham was forcing his attentions on my daughter.
Foyle: So, in the letter...
He nods to Milner, who leans forward to pick up the cut-out words on the table in front of them.
Milner: He used cuttings from the kind of paper he imagined you read, and then he added a few smears of machine oil.
Foyle: Because he'd bought the story that you were a machine operator in a factory producing armaments, which wasn't, of course, the case, and the oil was...
Flashback to Milner examining the letter.
Foyle (voiceover): A detail too many.
Lounge.
Foyle: So I'm afraid it was your father who took the grenade from the defence volunteers.
Flashback to Lawrence setting the grenade trap.
Foyle (voiceover): It was your father who set up the device in the summerhouse.
Susan: I can't believe this.
Foyle: And it was your father who, the following morning, faked the telephone call.
Intercut with a flashback to the morning of the expl*si*n.
Lawrence: He said he'd left something for me in the summer house.
Joe: I'll go.
Foyle: The strange phone call...
Lawrence: He rang off.
Foyle: The secret parcel and telling Joe not to go into the summerhouse was, in fact, the very best way of making sure he did exactly that.
Flashback to Joe setting off the grenade and Susan seeing the expl*si*n.
Susan: Soe!
Foyle: So it seemed as if Joe had been k*lled accidentally, and your father thought his secret was safe.
Susan: I can't believe this. I can't believe my father could have done this.
Foyle: It's a very great deal for you to take in.
Susan: But my father was k*lled.
Foyle: Yes.
Susan is silent for a long moment, looking to Milner, then Foyle.
Susan: My mother.
Foyle: Yes.
Peter: How do you know?
Foyle: Well, because the house was locked.
Flashback to Lawrence's body being covered.
Foyle (voiceover): He was k*lled with his own g*n, and only he, you, and your mother knew it was there.
Lounge.
Foyle: And, er, it wasn't you.
Susan nods slowly to herself.
Susan: Some family.
Police interview room.
Emily: I knew that something was wrong.
Foyle and Milner stand opposite her.
Emily: That business with the brick through the window, for example.
Flashback to Lawrence throwing the brick, then Foyle questioning the Gascoignes about it.
Foyle: And neither of you heard anything?
Emily: Well, I, I was asleep. Er, I suddenly woke up. I, I was shivering. It was terribly cold. I don't know why.
Interview room.
Emily: Lawrence had opened the front door. He'd let in the cold air. That was what made me shiver. Do you see? He had to go outside in order to throw the brick.
Milner: Did you know all along?
Emily: No, I didn't know. That's when I confronted him. That's when he told me.
Flashback to Lawrence at his desk, drinking.
Lawrence: All right! I k*lled him!
Emily: Lawrence, no.
Lawrence: He was nothing. A guttersnipe! The little vermin should never have come here in the first place. Always snooping around, poking and prying. He threatened me, for heaven's sake!
Emily: What? He was a child.
Lawrence: He was here when Brooks came. He heard the whole thing.
Emily: You... k*lled a child.
Lawrence: We k*lled him, Emily!
He stands up forcefully.
Emily: No.
Lawrence: Keeping up appearances! That's the reason I needed the money in the first place. Ever since I married into your bloody family...
Emily: How dare you bring my family into this?
Lawrence: And moved into this bloody house, I've been scrimping and saving. Do you think I was going to let the whole pack of cards come crumbling down because of some East End brat?
Emily: I won't be part of this!
Lawrence: Well, you are part of it! You're the reason it happened!
Emily: No!
She strides towards his desk and opens the drawer.
Lawrence: What are you doing?
She pulls the g*n out from the drawer.
Emily: You, too, will receive justice!
She aims it at Lawrence.
Lawrence: What are you doing with that? Put it down!
She fires three times and he collapses to the floor. She pants for breath, looking down at him.
Interview room.
Emily: That moment, I think I hated him more than anyone. More than I'd hated anyone ever before. But I didn't k*ll him for that reason. I k*lled him because it was the right thing to do.
Foyle's office. He sits behind his desk with the office door open. Hugh Reid comes walking up.
Hugh: Burning the midnight oil?
Foyle: Case notes. What's the time?
Hugh: After ten. I heard about Emily Gascoigne. Nasty business.
Foyle: Evil times.
Hugh: And getting worse. You haven't heard the wireless?
Foyle: No.
Hugh: Italy's declared w*r. It was on the news. So now we really are up against it. There've been riots in London, apparently, fires in the East End. Goodnight.
Foyle: Goodnight.
Street outside Carlo's, night. An angry mob has formed, shouting and carrying flaming torches. People start smashing up the outside of the restaurant and breaking windows.
Woman: Get out!
One man lights a Molotov cocktail.
Man: Get away!
He runs up and hurls it through the front of the restaurant. As the downstairs of the restaurant bursts into flames, the crowd shout and wave their torches.
Next day. Sam and Foyle come driving up and get out of the car. Tony is sitting on a bench in front of the b*rned-out restaurant. Sam kneels beside him while Foyle inspects the damage.
Foyle: Where is he?
It's obvious now that Tony's been crying.
Tony: He's dead. We were both asleep. There was smoke and, and flames. The firemen got me out. Dad didn't make it.
Sam's starting to cry too. They're all silent for a moment.
Sam: I'm so sorry, Tony.
Tony stands up from the bench and walks over to stand beside Foyle in front of the restaurant.
Tony: What sort of a world is this, Mr Foyle?
Foyle just nods. Tony starts to walk away, and Sam calls after him.
Sam: Tony.
He walks off without looking back and Sam returns to Foyle.
Sam: I don't know what to say.
Foyle: Neither do I.
Sam turns to walk back to the car.
01x03 - A Lesson In m*rder
Moderator: nomadicwriter
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While WWII rages across the Channel, a police detective reluctantly remains on duty in his quiet English coastal town. The battle comes to Foyle in its own way as he probes w*r-related cases of m*rder, espionage, and treason. Mystery blends with history, moral complexity, and period atmosphere.
While WWII rages across the Channel, a police detective reluctantly remains on duty in his quiet English coastal town. The battle comes to Foyle in its own way as he probes w*r-related cases of m*rder, espionage, and treason. Mystery blends with history, moral complexity, and period atmosphere.