01x01 - The Secret Adversary - Part 1

[bunniefuu]

(Train whistles)

I wish we had a few francs for a porter.

Well, I'd help if I had a spare hand.

Bloody thing.

You won't say that when it makes our million.

No, I won't. I'll be chasing flying pigs.

What was that, dear?

Nothing, sweetheart.

Here we are. That wasn't so bad, was it?

(She groans)

Now, what do you think's less bumpy, by the window, or on the aisle?

It's an insect.

I don't mean to be funny, but it is basically an insect.

A very valuable insect.

And me?

You're my wife.

(The box buzzes)

(Guard blows whistle)

Careful!

Sorry, it's a bit precious.

Where are you going?

Calais.

Then London.

Like us!

Mm.

(Engines chunter)

Are you looking for someone?

No.

I wondered what the time was, that's all.

Sometimes this train leaves late.

It's ten past three.

Perfect, then.

Are you interested in bees?

Oh, don't, Tommy.

Why not? She might be, you never know.

My husband is an enthusiast.

And a businessman.

People don't really think about honey, just plaster it on their bread in the morning, but the biology that goes on behind it is...

Take a look.

(Slight buzzing)

That's a pedigree queen if ever I saw one.

She wants to get out.

Ah, it's just until I get her home.

I can't drag her along on a lead all day, now, can I?

No, I suppose not.

Plenty people don't know about queens.

For example... - Actually, I need to go to the buffet. Please excuse me.

Of course.

Something's up with that girl.

Did you see the look on her face?

Are there any sandwiches?

I thought I was followed onto the train.

And were you?

I don't know.

There was a man at Pigalle, and just now on the platform.

I can't do this.

I only said I could because I felt bad, and you said you were in danger.

Someone is trying to k*ll me, Jane.

All I'm asking is you carry a package to London.

Who are you looking for?

You're being very nosey today, Tuppence.

(Drink trickles out)

Steady your nerves if you have to.

I'll see you in London.

We'll go dancing.

Dominic.

For old times' sake.

Don't.

We had fun, didn't we?

(Jane, go.)

What about you?

Just go.

(Screaming)

Good grief, what was that?

Just the noise of the train, darling. Probably nothing.

Didn't sound like nothing.

What's going on?

(Clunks and bangs)

(Hammering on the door)

You read too many detective novels, do you know that?

Nonsense.

Well, you hear the slightest noise on a train and you think catastrophe, m*rder, mayhem.

You should read the paper more.

(g*nsh*t)

(Gasps)

(She shrieks)

(She groans)

Well, what about that girl, do you think she's coming back?

(Short blasts on whistle)

Tuppence!

At least we know her name.

Jane Finn.

(Bee buzzing)

(Rain splashes)

(Thunder rumbles)

(Faint buzzing)

Nothing.

Two weeks, and not a word of it in your beloved British press.

You have to let it go.

Something happened.

Why else were we moved onto a new train?

No explanation.

Leave it to the police, Tuppence.

I would if I thought the police were doing anything, if I thought they were the least bit interested.

And what did happen to that girl?

(Dog whines)

I'm sure she turned up somewhere sooner or later.

Maybe I should just phone that inspector again.

I wish you'd put your energy into our actual business.

Could you move over?

No. Watch Tiffin because she just...

I AM watching Tiffin.

Oh, Tommy, there isn't room. Ow!

(Doorbell rings)

(Tiffin barks at the door)

I do put my energy into our business.

I painted the signs.

And I put up the hives.

(Doorbell rings again, tiffin barks)

Would you answer the door?

Mum?

It'll be the postman with a pile of bills.

Dad?

(Doorbell rings)

Why can't you look on the bright side?

Might be an order.

Might be someone asking for a tonne of honey.

Oh, Tommy, it's too early for rampant optimism.

Rampant something would be nice.

(Letters rattle through the door)

What does it mean when the ink is red?

Have you packed your trunk?

Chin up.

Back soon.

(Dog barking)

Tiffin!

Tiffin!

Tiffin, get away from the hives!

(Tiffin whines)

Tiffin.

Tiffin, how many times have I told you?

Here you are, darling.

Thank you.

I found these... in the bin.

We need a steady income, Tommy.

I'm doing everything that the book says.

We were conned.

We went all the way to France for that queen.

There'll be honey, won't there, George?

Don't bring George into this.

He's going back to school.

Dad hasn't read the book.

The Bee Book.

He hasn't read it.

I HAVE read the book.

Course I've read the book!

Now, Tuppence, don't think I haven't read the book.

Thanks for the tip, darling.

(Motor idling)

Take care.

And write to us.

Every week.

Tell me when we get rich!

(Tommy chuckles)

Thank you, Roger. - Hello, Fraser. Which class are you in this year? - No trouble, Tommy.

Hold tight, boys.

Bye!

(Engine rumble fades away)

I can't believe you haven't read that book.

I told you!

I have. Every page.

You can't believe what George tells you.

(She sighs)

You need to get a job, Tommy.

(He sighs)

Uncle Carter is bound to have something, Tommy.

He's an Army man, and I'm sure he's looking for help.

Just remember, sit up straight, and don't interrupt him.

(Foghorns and seagulls cawing)

(Clock chimes delicately)

(Church bell tolls)

(She sighs)

(Typewriter clicks)

(She sighs, exasperated)

(Guard blows whistle)

(g*nsh*t and screams)

(Train whistles)

(Telephone rings)

'Send him in, please.'

Major Carter will see you now.

Radio: 'Morris again, from the pavilion end...'

(Cheering)

(Door opens)

'The umpire's not interested.'

(Applause crackles on radio)

'And Morris smiles, ruefully, and goes back to his mark. Thompson again, tosses one up... (Cheers) 'Oh, a good hit to the boundary!'

Oh, sublime!

(He chuckles)

The Aussies might try, but you can't b*at an Englishman with a cricket bat.

Are you following?

No, I...

Is something up?

I've changed departments.

Still army, but with a spin.

All of us on the third floor... we don't exist.

Do you know what that means?

Hush-hush?

Keeping the communists out. That's what it means.

Doing our damnedest to keep the dirty Reds over there.

They're calling it a "cold" w*r.

I-i-i-it's dangerous work, secretive.

Precise.

Honourable.

And yes, yes, at times... like poetry.

But damn it, Tommy, just about any endeavour you embark upon ends in disaster.

Think about school.

University? God.

And the w*r?!

Most men at least make it as far as the barracks.

My nephew gets off the train and is run over by a catering van.

It WAS going fast.

You're a stay-at-home man, you're a... slippers-and-paper man, hmmm?

I wish I could offer you a position, but I'm sorry.

The field... it's not for you.

Thank you.

I'll keep paying George's school fees, as long as you need.

Goodbye, Uncle.

Don't blame me.

Blame Stalin.

(Crows squawk)

Looking for number seven?

(Dogs bark)

(Laughter from within)

Come on, boys, time to make your minds up.

Place your bets, time is ticking.

(Clamour of people talking)

(Small dog yaps)

(It growls)

Any more bets?

Any more bets for the 12:30?

Place your bets.

This Paris mess is a disaster.

And it's going to be down to me to find a replacement. Don't tell me.

Brown's ringing in an hour.

Can I help you?

I'd like to put a shilling on the favourite for the... 12.30.

Catford or Cardiff?

Catford.

(They shout over the commentary)

Yep...

We've got a problem.

I don't know where she is. We can't find her.

How can I cover it up?

A replacement?!

I can't just click my fingers and find one.

Your dog just came in.

What?

Weren't you listening?

Your dog just came in.

Thank you.

You fancy a job?

It's a job, like any other.

Only it's a lot easier than most.

You... take a suitcase... get on a train, go to an address in Paris.

Paris?

Mmm!

Do you like foreign travel?

What do I do when I get there?

You just live, really.

You take a name that we give you.

And you go to a flat that we tell you.

And then you just live.

You just... turn the lights on in the evening.

You put things in the refrigerator.

You take things out of the refrigerator. You sleep on the bed.

You might send the odd letter, take the odd stroll.

But then six weeks later... you come home.

Easy.

What name do I take?

I don't know. Something common, something random.

Something that doesn't attract a lot of attention.

For instance, er...

Jane Finn.

That particular name?

For instance.

And... what if I prefer Susan?

Susan Smith, much more common.

Look.

I know a woman that's down on her luck when I see one.

You're not used to places like this.

People like me.

Take the job.

And live as Susan?

We'd prefer Jane.

Funny, I met a girl called Jane Finn.

On the train.

Now, isn't that odd?

Did you really?

She left her book in the carriage.

And in it, this.

I guess you know him, too?

All right, bitch.

(She thuds against the wall and gasps)

Who are you working for?

You're one of Rita's little mates, I'll bet.

What did she tell you?

Why are you covering up the disappearance of a girl?

You are in murk, the like of which you've not encountered in your short and protected life, Missus.

If this is blackmail...

I'll give you money... but you'd better forget we ever had this conversation.

Or that little hat of yours might not have a head to sit on.

(She shrieks)

Oi!

You dropped your glove.

Thank you.

What on earth took you so long?

Something terrible has happened.

Quickly!

Waterloo.

No, not there.

We need to shake him off first.

Who?

Him.

Who is he? What's going on?

Here, here.

Pull over!

Get out, Tommy, go on, go on!

Here we are. Keep the change.

Come on, Tommy!

What the hell are we doing?

Kiss me. - What, here?

Kiss me!

Come on.

Where did you learn all this?

John Buchan, Conan Doyle, Dorothy L Sayers.

Books.

And boarding school.

Dodging the housemistress.

Yes, madam?

Two whiskies, please.

Are you going to tell me what's going on?

Jane Finn, that's what's going on.

The missing girl, I knew there was more to it.

What's that?

Proof that I wasn't wrong.

There you go, madam.

And the means to buy a new hat.

(They both wince)

All you need to do is go in and make a bet.

Just see if you overhear anything.

And then what?

We'll go to the police, of course.

They'll listen then. The more evidence we have, the better.

Locked.

Now isn't that odd?

(Go on.)

Shhh!

(Commentary from the dog races)

(She shrieks)

OK, this is where we leave it.

We walk back to the police station, you tell them what you told me and we go back to our lives.

Aren't you just a little bit curious?

There's nothing here, Tuppence. Even if I was curious.

No, no. You're wrong. There's a man called Brown, and there is a woman called Rita.

He thought I worked for her.

This is London. There must be a million Browns or Ritas.

(Rustle of unfolding paper)

There's also this.

What is it? A shopping list?

It's a bill, in the name of Vandemeyer, for a Paris hotel.

Give me that.

Why, Mr Beresford, I do believe your pulse has quickened just a little.

Someone called Vandemeyer stayed at the Hotel du Marbre, Paris, the day before Jane disappeared.

Watch the table.

Don't you think that's significant?

Significant in what respect?

They are soup spoons, Tuppence.

We need dessert spoons.

And... why ask me to pretend to be a woman that's missing?

That doesn't make sense.

Onion.

Unless...

Unless they're setting a trap for someone.

Carrot.

But who?

That's the question.

Parsley.

That's chives, Tuppence.

Even you must know the difference.

Of course! I'm forgetting.

The g*n.

(Tiffin groans)

There was a g*nsh*t.

Can we try and keep our imagination under control for one evening?

I'm perfectly under control, but if he will invite himself round to dinner, the least he can do is listen.

(Doorbell rings)

(Tiffin barks)

Look. No. Wait, wait.

(Clock chimes)

(Bell rings again)

Who needs a stinking job?

Ah! This is for George.

Ah, thank you.

It'll need to be broken in. Hello!

Hello. Come in.

Come in.

Jane Finn?

You're sure he said that particular name?

I'm absolutely sure.

You couldn't have confused it with perhaps Janet or Julia?

Quite certain.

Well, er...

You need to forget all about it, put it... put it right out of your mind altogether.

Well, at least tell us what you suspect!

Abduction?

m*rder?

(Tommy sighs)

(Tiffin barks outside)

Thank you so much for dinner, it was....

No, no, I couldn't possibly. It's all...

It's all hush-hush, that's what it is.

That's a pity.

It's about to be rather more loud-loud. You tell him, Tommy.

We just put an advertisement in the paper.

You did what?

The Times.

Asking for any information regarding the disappearance of Jane Finn.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

(Telephone speaker crackles)

Tomorrow.

(Move.)

(You're on my toe.)

Well, how do you think I feel about it?

No. I trust them completely.

(Voice on other end squawks quietly)

If you think that's necessary.

(Owl hoots distantly)

Oh, for God's sake, say something.

You're making us feel like naughty schoolchildren.

Jane Finn was just an innocent girl, caught up in something rather sinister.

Look, if I explain, then there's no turning back, you have to be certain.

At this very moment... a top Soviet agent is here in Britain.

A political assassin, suspected of many killings.

(An assassin!)

I should sit down.

Do I need a pencil?

Sit down.

We don't know his identity.

No idea who the target is.

All we know is that he likes to call himself Mr Brown.

My department got a tip off that this Brown had been activated by Russia, and would be making his move in the next few weeks.

What do you mean, make his move?

Someone in British public life will be found dead.

Oh, my goodness. Tommy, are you listening to all of this?

The man sh*t on the train was Dominic Villiers.

He was a member of my department, working undercover in Europe.

Two weeks ago, he sent me a coded message saying he was coming back to London with a tape recording, which he thought might reveal Brown's identity.

It looks as though that message was intercepted, because poor Villiers was sh*t dead.

And the recording?

We're not sure.

Is this where Jane Finn comes in?

Yes. She was on the train with Villiers.

They met in Paris and, er...

Well, they became friends, it seems.

So the question is...

Did he pass the recording to Jane before he was k*lled?

(Clock ticking)

And if so, where is she now?

Do you know, Tommy?

You're rather good at this.

Not bad for a pipe-and-slippers man, eh?

Might Jane have hidden the recording before she disappeared?

Yes. That's all we can hope for.

Right. What we're going to do is this.

You've already put an advertisement in the paper, mentioning Jane's disappearance.

But we can't do anything about that, that's done.

But I want to know everything about anyone who answers.

What they say, how they look. Everything, understand? You work for me, now.

But you have to be careful.

This Brown is a-a-a pretty unpleasant character... and he's clever.

So your job is to observe, that's all.

If you feel you're in any danger, then you report to this telephone number.

3, 7, 9.

Say it now.

3, 7, 9.

3, 7, 9.

You memorise it.

And, if things get bad... there can be no police.

You're on your own.

And the code word is "200, all out".

If anyone uses that phrase, then... then they're safe.

Cricket.

What?

Oh, yes, yes.

This is a cold w*r we're fighting now.

Don't let me down.

(Owl hoots)

Well, how about that?

Reading books and doing this are quite different, Tuppence.

Nonsense.

It's just meeting a few people.

And what would you rather be doing?

Feeding the bees?

Walking the dog?

Making jam to send to George?

A secret assassin.

A missing girl.

A communist plot!

Don't you think we were born for this kind of thing?

(Glass clinks)

Two replies!

From Jane's uncle.

A Mr Hersheimmer.

He wants to meet at the Ritz.

The other is unsigned... and wants to meet us on Sidney Street.

Well, I can guess where we'll be going first.

But both meetings are today.

This morning! Oh, God, Tommy, drive like the wind.

Thank you for replying to our advertisement.

(Refined US accent): You're not what I expected.

Well...

(He chuckles)

Well...

I mean, you're much too good looking.

(She giggles)

Private investigators are short and dumpy.

Wear sensible shoes.

Whereas, that hat...

(He chuckles, she giggles)

Sorry, have we already started?

This is my husband, Thomas Beresford.

Ah, I see.

Well, I just hope you two get further than the police did.

(The man coughs politely)

So you've been in contact with the police?

Sure.

But as far as the British police are concerned, Jane disappeared in France, so it's France's problem, and the French just don't want to know.

Private investigators are the only way to go, so when I saw your ad...

Is it now that you're supposed to ask me when did I last see my niece?

Ye... Yes. I was about to ask you that.

Two months ago.

She was studying languages at Cambridge.

She received a scholarship to go to Paris.

Her parents are deceased, so I agreed.

I even drove her to the ferry.

If I knew that was going to be the last time I saw her...

You British have a saying.

"Hindsight's a wonderful thing".

Do you have children?

Just one.

Sorry. Excuse me.

And him. [SHE CHUCKLES]

Thank you.

Any sugar?

Try Sweeterelle.

It's better for you.

What is it?

I like to think it's the future, in its modest way.

Could I just check on something?

You said you reported Jane missing straightaway, but the police say there's no record of that until she didn't turn up at Cambridge, last week.

That's ridiculous.

I spoke to an Inspector Brown nearly ten days ago, and told him the whole story.

Brown, you say?

I think that's it.

Is that relevant?

It could be.

Did you meet him in person?

No, we spoke on the phone.

Is there something wrong?

Sweeterelle!

It's delicious, isn't it?

We'll do what we can.

If you need money, just call. As you can see, I'm a rich man.

I just want Jane back.

There may be one or two expenses.

Anything.

Call me any time.

I didn't like him.

Really?

I thought he was...

What?

Charming.

Tuppence!

(She screams)

What the hell?

Oh, God!

(Horn beeps)

He could have k*lled you!

You don't think that was a warning, do you? From Brown?

Come on.

(She sighs)

Well, this is Sidney Street. What number did the letter say?

It didn't.

Are you Mrs Beresford?

Yes.

This is for you.

Wait a minute!

Where's he gone?

No name.

No marking.

Do you think whoever sent this was scared off as well?

Let me see that.

Smell.

(Siren passes)

Smells like an envelope.

I've a friend I met in the w*r. He works near here.

He should see this.

Whose imagination is running away with them, now?

If it was a b*mb, it would tick.

It does.

(Bell tolls)

Ah, ah, James. Patience.

Brace yourselves.

Here we go.

Three, two, one...

(School bell rings)

Ah.

Sorry, chaps. Run along.

All: Si-i-ir!

Sorry! Sorry.

You'll get over it, Daniel.

Go and run round a field or something. Go. Go, go, go.

Shoo! Shoo!

TOMMY!

(He chuckles)

Told you we'd meet again.

Aah!

How do you like this, huh?

All those years defusing bombs, and now, I get to blow things up.

The boys must love you.

I take a few risks, burn my eyebrows occasionally.

They seem to like that.

This is my wife, Tuppence.

Oh, pleased to meet you.

Hello.

We met in the hospital wing.

Oh!

Injured together.

You never forget that.

Were you hit by the catering van as well?

No.

I was in the front line.

But the catering van was no small beast, and driven by a maniac.

Tommy... Tommy was very brave.

I'm sure he was.

Could you take a look at this?

(Envelope ticks)

Hmm!

Tighten the other side, would you?

Oh, this damn hand.

(He sighs)

Good.

Oh, my goodness, Tommy, are you OK? I mean, that was quite a bang!

There's no need to be sarcastic, Tuppence.

Sarcastic? Never.

(Watch ticks loudly)

"To Jane, with all my love. Julius."

Did she have a watch when she went missing?

I can't remember.

Julius? Must be Uncle Julius, don't you think?

What about these?

What?

Well, we have a dark room here.

Tommy?

Would you...?

Dominic Villiers!

The man on the train.

Why have we been sent this?

Life as a teacher doesn't quite do it the way that my w*r work did.

If you've found yourself an adventure, then it would be unsporting of you not to share it.

I'm still perfectly capable.

Jane and Dominic Villiers.

Good grief.

What?

Look.

It's us.

They know all about us.

Right.

They probably know where we live.

Who we are.

Oh, God, Tommy, what if they get to George?

I don't know, Tuppence. I don't like it any more than you. - It's more than a warning.

Sending a motorcyclist is one thing, but this...

It's a command.

It's, "Back off or else."

Ow! Ow!

What did you do that for?

That car, did you notice it behind us before?

What car?

There.

I think I saw it when we left the school.

Oh, heck.

Don't jump to conclusions.

Oh, don't tell me.

Lots of cars that look like that probably drive around this neighbourhood all the time.

Don't do that!

Oh, Tommy, what have we got ourselves into?

You got us into it.

No, I didn't!

We need to do something.

Well, what?

Let's call Carter.

(Motor roars)

Well, you two wandered out of your depth!

If I had my doubts about the pair of you, turns out they were justified.

Where was my report? Where was my phone call?

Where was telling me what the hell you were doing?

We're terribly sorry.

Oh.

Oh, sorry?

As it happens, Tommy, Albert Pemberton still does the odd bit of work for us.

Did you think the British Government would lose an asset like that?

OK, we've, we, we, we've stuck him in a school, and he's got a piece of wood for an arm, but, um... he still has his uses.

You have no training.

You HAVE to remember that.

And very little common sense, it seems.

Be under no illusion.

Mr Brown is no small adversary.

If you were to get close to finding Jane Finn, then your lives would certainly be in danger.

Now, I understand you were sent a fob watch, which I will pass on to my technicians on the third floor.

Yes, Albert sent it to me.

Right.

Let's hope there are some fingerprints left on it.

Of course, Major.

There was nothing else in the envelope, just the watch?

Yes. I mean... No, just that.

Tuppence?

Absolutely.

Right.

Right. Well, let's get some cakes.

Albert didn't mention the photographs.

Neither did you.

Yes, but why keep it a secret from Carter?

It doesn't make sense.

If Albert is working for Carter, why not tell him the whole story?

Because I happen to think YOU have a better chance of finding Jane Finn than Carter and his team, but you need some help.

I let myself in, hope you don't mind.

(Clock ticking)

We're a team, now, the three of us.

Do we have any choice?

Not really.

Have you got anything to eat? Only, I'm starving.

Of course.

School dinners at that place are dreadful.

Clearly.

(His arm whirs)

Oh, yes, it moves.

I invented it myself.

One day, I'll take it off and show you.

That's very impressive.

The Reds these days are full of fancy gadgets.

Exploding pencils, umbrellas with poison in the tip.

Firstly...

I think you were bystanders in that photo.

Look at the background in all of the pictures.

There's the man with the birthmark.

The one who was chasing us.

Where?

There.

And there he is again.

So he was on the train.

There's something else.

Go on!

The woman he's with.

Exactly!

If you could just bring that photo here for me?

She's behind you on the platform, yes?

Yes.

She's communicating... with the man with the birthmark on the Champs Elysees.

And in the cafe...

In the cafe, there again.

Only this time... there is a monogram on her luggage, with the initials RV.

Rita.

They mentioned a Rita.

And the bill from the hotel?

Erm.

Er, Van der... erm...

Vandemeyer?

Vandemeyer.

Rita Vandemeyer? Could that be it?

Whoever sent this photo has given you a way into the g*ng.

This Rita could lead you to the missing girl.

Music: Madame Butterfly by Puccini Yes, I got what you sent.

Yes, it's all set.

I've got it hidden.

But what's an opera singer doing getting mixed up in all this?

I don't know.

Let's hope she hasn't already found someone.

Stop it!

Stop what?

It's just a wig and some make-up.

We're trying to find a missing girl, remember?

The recording that identifies Brown.

Well, it's just...

What?

Well, I'm not quite sure of the word.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

I should think it quite, erm...

Well, you know, any time you wanted to...

Stop it.

Sorry.

(Door shuts)

(She gasps)

That's him!

That's the man who offered me a job.

(Bike bell clinks)

What?!

Oh, for...

(She chuckles)

See!

Drawing pin in a tyre, works every time.

Another trick from a book?

At least I read my books, Tommy.

All right.

Well, wish me luck.

And me?

You were born to play the part.

Any time you want to play the part at home... - Tommy, stop it.

Sorry. [HE COUGHS]

Follow him Tommy. Stay close to him.

Music: Madame Butterfly by Puccini

(Bell rings)

Yes?

Kelly Lyon, Mrs Vandemeyer.

I saw downstairs you were looking for a maid?

Can you type?

Of course I can.

Only the last girl was too slow.

40 words a minute, or you're out on your ear.

And don't step on the carpet, it's original Persian.

Mind your feet.

Sorry!

My memoirs.

Well, don't look so astounded.

Principle Soprano, Royal Opera House, for seven seasons.

1932, 1933.

Right up until the w*r.

I sang Madame Butterfly in front of the King.

Paris, Berlin.

And now again, here.

In London.

You'd better get a pencil.

I want to get it ready.

So that, after my next performance...

Well, the world wakes up.

'Weary but resplendent, one evening, I emerged from my dressing room to find a rowdy group of German fans clamouring for my autograph.'

(Through headphones): '"Rita, Rita!" they called.

'They begged me to speak to them for a while. Of course, I was in an awful rush. I was due at a birthday party for an up-and-coming German politician, who shall remain nameless. But I have always made time for those with the good sense to adore me.'

(Mrs Vandemeyer warms up her voice in the next room)

(The tape squawks on, faintly)

(Dancer click-clacks)

Come on!

Oi!

(Buzzer rings)

What?

I'm here to meet the Spanish cousin.

Can I help you?

Ah. Just browsing.

What?

I'm here to meet the Spanish cousin.

(She gasps)

(The memoirs squeak on)

Mind you don't put your elbows on the table, I've just had it polished.

If you see a fly, get it with the swat.

Finished the chapter yet?

Ooh, er...

(Jazz playing, laughter and voices)

(Door slams)

(People laugh)

(Jazz playing on radio)

Oh!

Shhhh.

Shh.

Please, please. Let go of my jacket, please, please.

Thank you.

Hang on a minute.

You aren't Drennan, are you?

Drennan?

I'm right, aren't I?

They said you were some sort of big-wig.

No wonder you weren't into this.

I didn't offend you or anything, did I?

Oh, no, no. Of course not.

They're waiting upstairs.

(He clears his throat)

(Tuppence sighs and groans)

'I have always encouraged...'

(Door closes)

(Terse, muffled voices)

Don't talk to me like this!

I thought you would tell Brown!

Well, you tell Brown, eh?

Cos Brown is relying on you, so when you sing at that do...

I am trustworthy.

Everyone knows that I can do it.

I thought you said no-one was 'ere.

Just some girl doing some typing.

Hey!

(Women laughing)

OK? Get the money.

That's the most important thing.

'Ere, wait a minute, are you a member?

I said, are you a member?

This is a members only club.

Yes, I'm a member.

Well, I've never met you before.

Come 'ere!

Get Whittington.

I think we've got someone here who doesn't belong.

Hang on a minute.

Haven't we met before?

You're in a lot of trouble, aren't yer?

I can see some fun here.

Another locked door.

Another secret.

THOMAS AND TUPPENCE BERESFORD, WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME? I AM SAYING NO!

Plan B?

Absolutely.

(She shrieks)

I'm going to enjoy this.

'We led him to believe we were private investigators.'

'That was your idea.'

(She shrieks)

You're ingenious, you know that?

Where did you learn that trick?

Girl guides.