02x01 - Mystery at the Prospect Hotel

[bunniefuu]

[opening theme music playing]

[man] The future...

I see it coming.

A man is returning home.

A musician
of great talent and fortune.

But his enemies await.

He is in grave danger

In the shadows lurks...

...death.

[dog barking]

[George] The Riddle
of the Missing Monocle.

A Merle Monroe Mystery.

That's a lot of 'M's, Mum.
Who's Merle?

He's my new detective.

And don't get marmalade
on him, please.

Has he found
the missing monocle?

He has not.

And to be quite honest,
neither have I.

This is entirely without sense.

Your Great Uncle Horace
is inviting you to visit him

at The Prospect Hotel
on Cragstone Ridge.

Why doesn't that make sense?

I rather assumed your
Great Uncle Horace was still dead.

"There may be something of interest
to your daughter Georgina."

George.

He's dead.
You can't expect him to know that.

- She can't possibly go.
- Well, certainly not on her own, no.

I am here, you know.

Oh, Mum, Dad, please say yes.

Look, I love you,

but I'm dying of boredom
being stuck here with you all summer.

Oh. Charming.

You know what I mean.

I shall go with you.
This is odd.

I want to get to the bottom of it.

Hear that, Timmy?

Yeah! Adventure time, yeah!

No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not.

This is categorically not another
one of your preposterous escapades.

How can it be?
It's just me and Timmy.

Isn't it? Yeah.

And me.

And Dad.

And Mum.

I can write from there.

Big spooky hotel
in the middle of nowhere?

That's where I'll find my monocle.

Yeah!

[train chugging]

[train whistle blows]

That was whale fat.

Huh?

In the sandwich, on the train.

Highly likely. Rationing.

Eugh. It was yuk.

"Evacuation" does sound grim.

But we're here now,
so we have to make a go of it.

What does the letter say
happens next?

"Dear Sir, in light of
the aerial bombardment of London

your children have been selected
to join a party of 22 evacuees

leaving the capital this Friday.

The 09.10 from Paddington
delivers them to Cragstone Ridge,

whence they will be escorted
to the safety

"of the renowned Prospect Hotel."

- "Renowned" is good.
- We'll pretend it's a holiday.

No air raids, no sirens,
no horrible gas masks.

New friends.

Next week it's my birthday,

and the most important thing
about my birthday

is that we're together
with Mum and Dad

and we all sing
Green Grow the Rushes, O.

It's compulsory,
and now it's been cancelled,

and I miss them already and...

that man is staring at us.

Oh, no.

He's coming over. J-Julian...

Do I have the pleasure of beholding
the family Barnard, junior division?

Yeah. We're the Barnards.

Ah. Mr Vincent at your service.

How was the journey?

I trust they gave you
something tasty to eat.

They did. It was...

Tasty.

I'm so pleased.

Cases?

We can carry our cases, thank you.

This way.

Hello, old sport.

Stanley Crawford, insurance agent.

My card.

I believe we have
a common destination.

The Prospect Hotel?

Erm, yes.

What's it like?

Ruddy unsuitable place to dump
a pile of kids, if you ask me.

But, there's a w*r on.

Shall we?

[suspenseful music playing]

[d*ck] I've been reading up
about Cragstone Ridge.

It's surrounded by a marsh.

Local legend says
the place eats people.

[Anne] Great. A cursed hotel.

It just gets better and better.

[ominous music playing]

[Anne] I'm scared.

There are no ghosts
at the old Prospect.

What there is,
is buckets of bad blood.

Broken promises. Disappointments.

Betrayals.

Yeah, that's what a man really
should be allowed to insure against.

Betrayal.

[bell dings]

[clock chiming]

[door slams]

Cab Vee.

Playing tonight?

Ah!

Do I have the pleasure
of welcoming the Barnard family?

Yes. We... just met.

We most certainly did, and what
an unfettered delight it was.

I am Mr Vincent,
proprietor and your host.

Number 16.

Are the other children here already?

I don't think we're expecting
any other children.

Correction. We are.

One young man.

What?

Mr Vincent.

What is the meaning
of this disgusting proposition?

What did he say?

- Mummy...
- What?

Don't mumble, Angela.

It's so unattractive.

This hideous threat
of so-called popular music.

I have just returned from Brazil,

where the noise was insufferable.

And in this hotel,

- I demand peace and quiet.
- But...

Miss Clutterbuck.

The music is jazz.

It is thrilling and exub...

What?

- I didn't speak.
- Well, I heard you doing so.

Spit it out, child.

I was only going to say
that Cab Vee is Mr Vincent's son.

I call that an error of taste.

My son is celebrated
in America...

Ugh! America.

...as one of the finest...

How are we supposed
to pretend it's a holiday

when the people are so...

peculiar?

You see, that's something
about this letter

I don't understand...

The postmark.
It was posted here.

It should've come from Westminster.

'Scuse me. You've come from London,
haven't you?

Is it bad down there?
Bombs and that?

It's quite bad.

It said on the wireless
we lost 20 aircraft last week.

The whole situation's
extremely disturbing.

You poor things.

Now you're stuck
in this godforsaken place.

It's completely devastating.

I'm going to be here on my birthday.

I'm so sorry.

But look, there's a dance band
here tonight.

They really swing.

That's something, eh?

Can I ask you a question?

We were expecting things here
to be a bit...

different.

Is there anything
strange going on in the hotel?

No more than normal.

Well, of course,
there is the haruspex.

That's Latin, for...

fortune teller.

Bloke on the fourth floor
does tarot cards for the guests.

The staff aren't to go near him,
but I nipped in the other day.

I asked him about my future
in hospitality,

and all he talked about was death.

I asked for my money back,
but he got really shirty.

[Standing] I believe I asked for
The Times of London,

not the Cragstone Herald.

I'm so sorry, Mr Standing.
I must have misheard.

'Times'. 'Cragstone'.

You must have been working
quite hard to mishear.

But now you're better informed.

We should all be better informed.

Well, I mustn't be caught talking.

Being chummy with the guests
is sackable.

We'd like to be chummy with you.

I'm Dilys.

He's Julian.

[Julian] So, is that the famous marsh
that eats people?

[d*ck] Somewhere out there.

I wish George was here.

[d*ck] Mr Crawford. Mr Vincent.

That man on the stairs, Mr Standing.

Everyone's... weird.

Dilys wasn't weird.

She was a bit weird.

That's creepy.

[d*ck] And what kind of hotel hires
a full-time fortune teller

to live on their top floor?

They're all cranks and charlatans.

Hardly seems like
a good business model.

[d*ck and Julian continue
conversing indistinctly]

[click]

[suspenseful music playing]

[Julian] What is a haruspex, anyway?

[d*ck] Well, strictly speaking,

what a haruspex does
is drag out your entrails.

He'll be a fake, of course.
They always are.

[man 1] Y-You promised
you'd stand by me!

[man 2] Events overtook my promise.

Thieving from the guests
and legging it to America?

Are those the... the "events"
you have in mind?

Cab Vee.

Father, just watch the show tonight.

Then you'll understand
why I had to go.

You lost the right to understanding
a long time ago, son.

[scoffs] "Son"!

You lost the right to that and all.

[footfalls thudding]

Please, please, please, please...

Anne? What's happened?

- [dog barking]
- I just, I...

[barking continues]

[gasps] Oh, good God!

Canine! Angela! Interpose yourself.

Er, nice doggy.

- He likes you.
- Oh, good.

George!

Oh, my gosh!
What are you guys doing here?

The "young man" is you!

You'll never guess
what's in our room.

- There's a secret...
- How is this possible?

I don't know!
I mean, we got a letter, and then...

- A letter?
- Is Uncle Quentin with you?

And Mum. They're outside.
He's swearing at the truck.

He was going too fast
and he bashed into a tree.

But it doesn't matter,
cos here we all are together again!

Take me to Great Uncle Horace.

What?

You didn't get a letter
from Great Uncle Horace?

- Great Uncle Horace is dead.
- Definitely dead. 1919.

Squashed by an elephant
on the rampage.

This letter, George.

It's written on exactly the same
paper as our evacuation order.

[d*ck] Same smudging on the T's.

Same typewriter.

Both letters are fake.

Somebody's lied to us all.

Come on, speedy.

That tree was travelling
far too fast.

And it was on the wrong side
of the road...

There's a dog on the premises!

How appalling.

I don't believe it! [laughs]

What a wonderful surprise!

Mum, they have four beds
in their room, so we can share, yes?

[Anne] Oh, can we, Aunt Fanny?

I was wishing and wishing
that George could be here,

and here she is.

And it IS almost my birthday.

Thanks, Dad. Run.

[Quentin stammers]

[Quentin sighs]

Hola, jovenes.

One, two, three, four...

[dog barks]

...five.

Excellent.

He will see you now.

What? Who are you?

Who wants to see us?

The man who holds the future
in his hands.

She means the man
on the fourth floor.

The haruspex.

The fortune teller.

[dog barks]

[lights buzzing]

[d*ck] Electrical failures.
They have them here, too.

It's the w*r.
Nothing to worry about.

[suspenseful music playing]

[haruspex] You took your time.

But now that you're here...

...I shall explain you to yourselves.

Be seated.

[suspenseful music playing]

In this case, no need of cards.

You, George.

An only child, and lonely.

When separated from your cousins,

you feel you are only half a person.

That's completely ridiculous.

[haruspex] And yet completely true.

You, Anne.

Pathetically afraid of ghosts.

No, I'm not!

[haruspex] When you lie,
your nose goes puce.

d*ck.

A brain the size of Jupiter.

But there is only one thing
in life you really want to be.

- And what is that?
- [haruspex] Taller.

All right, that's enough.

[haruspex] Says Julian, who wonders
if and when he will ever kiss a girl?

How d'you know all this?

Come here, my dear.

A trifle warm in here, Gabriela.

My poor old head is getting itchy.

Hello, children.

Wentworth?

[dramatic music playing]

After our last...
little adventure together,

I withdrew to Paris.

There I happened upon Gabriela.

At the roulette table.

I lost just about
everything else, but...

...her I found.

I thought Paris was full of Nazis.

[Wentworth] They were
a disincentive to remain.

I returned to England, penniless,
and secured discreet employment

at this hotel, as a fortune teller.

You wrote those letters, didn't you?

One to our parents,
pretending to be the government.

One to George's,
pretending to be Horace.

To get us all to come here.

Why?

Muy inteligente, este chico.

What brings you here...

[suspenseful music playing]

...is m*rder.

This hotel is a foetid swamp
of resentment and lust for revenge.

We'd heard.

[Wentworth] Oh, you'd heard, had you?
Had you heard?

Well, you're now hearing
the correct version from me.

You saw the poster
for the singer, Cab Vee?

His real name is Charlie Vincent.

Son of the imbecile
who runs this pub.

Charlie was supposed
to take over managing the place,

but oh, no.

He bolted to New York and
became an international star.

Meanwhile, the hotel's
gone down the drain,

and his father blames him.

So why did Charlie come back?

To atone.

For what? Having some ambition?

Charlie distressed a great many
people when he fled the country.

People he simply abandoned.

Friends. Family.
At least one lover.

This is why he is destined
to be m*rder*d.

How could you possibly know that?

Because I had a vision.

[piano music playing]

There was nothing I could do.

[suspenseful music playing]

Death is coming.

It's inexorable.
It won't stop till it takes him.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

Someone in this hotel

is preparing to m*rder
Charlie Vincent.

He has had visions before.

[d*ck] Ever since he drank from
that fountain on Kirrin Island.

I have.

And the only people
who know them to be true

are gathered in this room.

Nobody in the world
can do this but you.

Do what?

The Nazis have our country
by the throat.

Choking us to death.

We cannot speak,
we cannot breathe.

But Charlie Vincent can sing.

His music is a fount of joy, hope,
inspiration for our country.

To lose him now would be catastrophic
to the morale of the nation.

So, what I want you to do, children,

is identify the would-be assassin.

And stop him.

Now I am exhausted.
Leave me. Go!

I must warn you, Thomas.

The father of the tall girl...

I believe he will interfere.

Mama writes a book.

Papa has nothing to occupy his mind.

Al contrario, Gabriela.

He has you.

Is Charlie really going to die?

That insurance man, Crawford,
he was going on about betrayal.

What about that old lady that went
to Brazil, Miss Clutterbuck?

She said the music was hideous.

- [man] No, you listen to me.
- Shush!

Cab Vee is a high-value commodity.

[man on phone] Lord Standing,
God damn it, be forceful already!

Hey, you keep your wig on.

You want forceful?
I can be forceful.

[man on phone] I want it not.

Well, consider me your executioner.

Julian, you should write a list.

Put Mr Standing at the top of it.

He called Charlie a commodity.

What's a commodity?

Step one, surely,
should be find Charlie.

He's the one
who's about to be m*rder*d.

- We have to warn him.
- Hang on.

Wentworth has visions, OK.

But he also lies through his teeth.

So how d'we know
which one he's doing now?

We don't.

[d*ck] So why are we
getting involved?

Because it's what we do.
We get involved.

If there's any chance at all

that we can stop someone
being k*lled, we have to try.

I've missed you, George.

[Julian] She's right, d*ck.

Even if it's a trap, we have to try.

OK. Timmy gets the casting vote.

[dog barks]

OK. 5-0 for investigation.

Let's find Charlie.

[bell dinging]

[Mr Vincent] Ah! Ah, ah!

Intemperate tintinabulation, sir.

I want to see your hotel register.

I want material proof of
my uncle's continued existence.

I'm afraid we don't keep
such records here, sir.

Our guests, we find,
are very jealous of their privacy.

The Prospect is above all discreet.

[door slams]

Ah, George!
Are you particularly busy?

Er... er, we're just
playing hide-and-seek.

Who's hiding? You're all here.

Advanced version.

What's up?

There's something rummy
going on in this establishment.

Uncle Horace is nowhere to be found,
and I need to know why.

I suggest we investigate this
together.

Professor Quentin Barnard.

Wow.

Creator of the legendary
Algebra Engine.

Integrator theorist.

Master logician.

You know that science governs all.

But I know
that science is governed...

by magic.

We have much to discuss, you and I.

- [George] Go, go, go, go!
- [dog barks]

[footfalls clattering]

We do?

Sorry, Mr Crawford.

We were looking for someone else.

Charlie. Cab Vee.

[Crawford] Oh, that's him,
punishing the piano.

But take my tip.

If Charlie Vincent shakes your hand,
count your fingers.

My card.

[suspenseful music playing]

[hissing]

D'you know we once had a warlock
speak at the Royal Society?

The students booed him
off the podium.

They threw wet blotting paper.
It was terribly disrespectful.

I wanted to hear what he had to say.

You are a man of imagination.

At last.

I had quite given up hope
of proper conversation here.

Hm.

Erm, allow me to furnish you
with an aperitif, Senora...?

Senorita, please. Gabriela.

Is this anybody's?

Not for you, sir.

That's Charlie's five o'clock.

It's resting.

So the ingredients can combine.

[Quentin] Good Lord.

Can I prepare you both
the house c*ck?

It's called Death Comes
For The Archbishop.

- Sounds heavenly.
- [Quentin] Marvellous.

Your present research, Professor.

What does it concern?

How do you plan
to astonish civilisation?

Well, I believe...

that it will one day be possible
to harness

the natural spontaneous energy
of the world around us.

Hm? Rather than rely on fossil fuels.

I mean, why rely on fossil fuels
when, look, even my jumper

is constantly generating electricity?

Your y... "yumper"?

Oh! Jumper.

Ah. But the magicians, you know,

they have been harnessing
the energy of creation

for thousands of years.

In fables. Not in life.

You scorn the wisdom
of the ancients?

[Mr Vincent] Two Deaths.

[Dilys] This for Charlie?

I wonder...

would you care to dine
with us this evening?

"Us"?

Myself, my daughter and my wife.

I should be delighted.

Hasta pronto, Professor.

[glasses clink]

[slow piano music playing]

# Blue again.

# It's you again.

# Here comes the same old fear.

# The saddest song I ever wrote.

# The one that you'll never hear. #

[piano music stops]

[upbeat jazz piano playing]

B-flat's on the blink, but you have
to work with what you've got.

[key thudding]

[Anne] I loved the song
you were playing when we came in.

The sad one.

That's the one that counts.

Can we come to the concert tonight?

Dilys said we should.

Dilys? Dilys recommends it,
you probably should, yeah.

But first, Charlie,
we've got some questions.

Serious questions.
You see...

You're going to be m*rder*d!

What?

[suspenseful music playing]

Your five o'clock, sir.

Anything else for you, sir?

No, thank you, Dilys.

Er, no, yes.

Some lemonade for these guys.

When I was little, there was an
old bloke who used to perform here.

A Delta bluesman from Chicago.

He'd drink martinis and play
at this piano and just for me.

That's how it all started.

Me and jazz.

My old man hated it.

He said it was
the music of the devil.

But I liked it.

I liked it so much,
I had to leave here,

go somewhere
where I could do it myself.

Now I've come back, just in time
to get myself topped, apparently.

Do you have any enemies, Charlie?

My departure from England
wasn't my finest hour.

I upset a lot of people.

Dunno if anybody'd want
to k*ll me, though.

Give me a slap, maybe.

[dog barks]

Manners, Timmy.

Quite right.

Cherries have no business
tasting of gin.

[dog barks]

[drink hissing]

Acid!
Or possibly extreme alkali.

I'm assuming your drink
doesn't usually do that?

Not usually, no.

[gasps]

You were meant to drink that!

- Who made that c*ck?
- M-Mr Vincent.

You brought it here.
You could have done anything to it.

- I did nothing but bring it.
- We should think this through.

Whoa. Guys.
Look, whatever's going on here,

it's extremely dangerous.

I think it's better
if you don't get involved.

OK. We won't get involved.

A m*rder*r? At The Prospect?
[scoffs]

I have to say
I'm actually rather hurt

that you could suggest
such an uncouth thing.

We're not accusing you, sir.

We just want to know
what happened to the drink

after you made it.

Well... it rested.

As it should.

So that the ingredients can combine.

And then, erm...

it was delivered by Dilys.

It's not Dilys.

Julian, we can't just say that
just because she's, you know, pretty.

It's nothing to do with that.

If she is.

I really hadn't noticed.

Erm, it's simply that I happen
to believe she's innocent.

Well, I happen to be not so sure.

Both of you, please, stop arguing.

If you don't mind my saying,
you lot don't seem to have

a very clear idea
of what you're doing.

He's right. We need to be
more scientific about this.

We need professional advice.

Run that by me again?

Say... you have a bunch of people.

Mm-hm.

And you know
one of them's a m*rder*r.

How would you find out
who that person might be?

I mean, what would you look for?

What are you up to, George?

[George] Nothing.
We're just bored. It's a game.

The Holy Trinity of Detection.

One, means.

Did the suspect possess
the correct tools for the job?

Deadly acid.

[Fanny] Two, opportunity.

Was the suspect in the right place
at the right time?

And three, motive.
Now, this is crucial.

Did the suspect have a reason
to m*rder?

Now, that reason might be a secret
known only to them.

Sometimes not even to themselves.

What's the top motive
for m*rder?

Money. Sometimes love.

Sometimes both.

So, how do detectives find out
what people are really thinking?

The trick to detecting...

is getting people to tell you things
they don't want to tell you.

Ideally, without them knowing
that's what they're doing it.

Also, you need to be able to see
through walls, behind closed doors...

see the stuff that
people think is hidden safe.

And that's hard.

Does that help with your game?

What if I told you...

that in our room,
there's a hidden door

that leads to a secret passage

from which you can spy
into people's rooms

through painted people's eyeballs?

Who's first?

To do what?

Julian's first.

[click]

[Julian] Whoa!

Who's next?

[suspenseful music playing]

[George] Mr Vincent's office.
There's no-one there.

But someone was here.



What's that about?

[Miss Clutterbuck]
What d'you mean, "buffet"?

[Angela]
It's where one serves oneself.

I know what a buffet is, you ninny.

Doubtless one of Vincent's
dismal economies.

You can get the girl
to serve me.

Yes, Mummy.

You've done something
facetious to your hair.

Go and sort it out.

[both snickering quietly]

Sometimes, you know...

I'm quite overcome
by an irresistible desire

to annihilate every moron
on the face of the Earth.

Like God with the flood.

This... this urge to lay waste is in
the Clutterbuck blood, I think.

I know you have it.

[George] All right, let's look
at the suspects so far.

Him. The American. Standing.
He's under pressure.

He's agreed to do something
he doesn't want to do.

And he calls himself
"the executioner".

Singers are always mixed up
in the mob, the Mafia.

Standing's probably a hitman
sent to whack Charlie.

Whack?
Where d'you get all this stuff?

School.

What about Crawford?

He says Charlie betrayed him,

and that's obviously
driven him doolally.

Don't forget the Clutterbuck woman.
She hates everything.

Dogs, music, Brazil, this hotel,

even her own daughter.

[George] Dilys brought the drink.

[Julian] But Mr Vincent made it.

Time's running out.

Somebody tried to m*rder Charlie.

It happened right in front of us.

And it's gonna happen again
unless we do something about it.

Means. Motive. Opportunity.

What we have to do
is watch everybody.

Like hawks.

[telephone ringing]

[man grumbling over phone]

- Hello?
- [Quentin] George.

- Dad?
- Have you got anything formal?

Have I got anything formal?
Are you mad?

[Quentin] Yes, Mother says
she's packed you something.

I don't care if Mum packed...

[Quentin] Oh, this ruddy tie!

He's trying to tie up his tie
and speak at the same time.

- [Quentin] We're dressing for dinner.
- OK, OK.

- [Quentin] Downstairs in 20 minutes.
- OK!

[Quentin] OK? Don't be late.

OK.

Dinner in 20 minutes.

[clears throat] Evening, everyone.

This way, George.

One word,
and I'll smash your face in.

[indistinct conversations]

Hello again, old sport.

Could you get your dog
off the furniture, please?

Erm, sorry.

- Why is there no butter?
- We can't have butter, Mummy.

What? Says who?

Adolf Hitler.

Him and whose army?

His, Mummy.

Get that Hitler on the phone.

- What do you want?
- Do you mind if I join you?

Oh!

Brown shoes at dinner.

That's how it starts.

What next?

Men carrying parcels in public,
reversing in the waltz?

Oh, get about your business,
silly boy!

That's enough.

Miss Clutterbuck's too busy
being obnoxious to have the time

to go round k*lling people.

Back in a minute.

Dilys.

Can I ask you a question
about Charlie?

What was he like
before he was famous?

Mm, he was always famous,
in a way.

So talented.

Always bashing away at the piano.

Once I made a jelly,
and he sat down

and wrote a song about it,
straight off.

He must have really liked you.

No, love.

He liked the jelly.

Are you happy here?

Erm... reasonably.

Mr Vincent's
always been good to me.

As good as he can be...
given the circumstances.

Oh, thank you.

Ah! Senorita!

My daughter, George.

[Gabriela] Encantada.

And your wife?

Inspector Monroe has
decided the vicar dropped

the monocle in the font.

But my wife... not convinced.

Mum's book. She's busy.

Ah, the muse is a fickle mistress.

Where were we, Professor?

Well... well, erm...

I rather wanted you to explain
how magicians harness energy.

In fact, I demand it.

- You better rethink...
- [Gabriela] Esplendida.

There may have to be
a demonstration.

Dad, I have to go talk to Cab Vee.

B-Because he's famous.

But we're talking to the senorita.

I think, Professor,
it is an act of diplomacy.

Your daughter sees

that her pretty dress is
the same colour as mine.

We cannot dine at the same table.

She sacrifices herself.

[Quentin stammers]

How...?

Magic.

Hm.

[suspenseful music playing]

Mr Crawford.

You said
that Charlie betrayed you.

How?

I wrote his songs, that's how.

You're a musician?

Oh, yes.

Before I started selling insurance.

We collaborated
on his version of Jumpin' Jive.

I wrote Hop-Headed Woman...

...and Gasoline Gal.



You must have made a lot of money.

You'd expect so, wouldn't you?

So you're here to sort things out?

One way of putting it.

The main thing, sport, is
to look the snake right in the eyes.

D'you know what you do then?

Cut off its head.

We're not going to let that happen.

Are we not?

[sucks teeth] Oh, dear.
That's a nuisance.

Think again, Crawford.

Best we keep you
out of the way, then.

[George] D'you really have no idea
who might be trying to k*ll you?

[Charlie] Nope.

Anyway, whatever it is
that's heading my way,

maybe I deserve it.

Why won't you take this seriously?

Listen, I arrived in New York
with no money in my pocket,

no change of clothes,

no reputation except
the bad one I left at home.

Just a fistful of songs.

You know what happened then?

I became a star.

Point is, I can look after myself.

And I reckon you're the same.

No, you're not the same.

You're better.

You wouldn't leave anybody
in the lurch.

You wouldn't steal to get
yourself a ticket to America.

[both chuckle lightly]

You and your cousins...

Cousins?

You're the future.

If the world makes it
out of this w*r,

it's going to belong to you.

Your generation.

You have to make sure
you run it right.

What does Mr Standing want?

[Charlie chuckles]

You been spying on me, Miss?

Only a little.

[Charlie] Standing works
for Chessboard Records.

They're just disappointed
with some of the decisions

I've made recently, that's all.

Time to fire up Cab Vee.

[George] Is he someone different?

Very.

I couldn't go out onstage
as Charlie Vincent.

I'd just die.

[clanging]

Ladies and gentlemen!

For your exclusive entertainment,

Mr Cab Vee and his Bandits

will shortly be performing
in the ballroom!

Oh, hell on Earth!

Come on, chaps and chapesses.
You don't want to miss the opener.

It could be one of mine.

Mmm.

[jazz playing]

# Deboodledy-ack
deboodledy-ackasaki.

# Oh, rang-tang-da-da.

# Gonna tell ya 'bout
the jumpin' jive.

# Jim jam jump, jumpin' jive.

# Cab's gonna beat you
off this mellow jive.

# Beat it out on the mellow side. #

[trumpet solo]

Boy!

Oh, boy!

# Palomar, Shalimar, Swanee Shore.

# Let me dig that jive once more. #

Boy!

Oh, boy!

# Now can't ya hear
those hep cats call?

# Come on, boys,
let's have a ball.

# Makes you dig your jive
on the mellow side.

# The jim jam jump
on the solid jive.

# Makes you dig your jive
on the mellow side.

# Hep-hep!

# Hep-hep!

# The jim jam jump is
the solid jive.

# Makes you nine foot tall
when you're four foot five... #

Where's Julian?

[music building]

# The jim jam jumpin' jive... #

We've lost Julian.

I think I saw him going into the bar.

Good heavens!

I don't know how to make it stop.

If only we could get it on film.

We could blackmail him for decades.

- Let's go find your brother.
- Oh, yeah.

[dog barks]

Oh, hello!

- May I have the honour?
- Mm!

[dog barks]

[sniffing]

He was here, but...
Why would he just leave this?

- [thudding]
- Just a minute.

The music is wrong.

The drum bit doesn't fit.

[thudding continues]

That's not the drums.

[muffled shouts]

- [thud]
- [muffled] Help!

Crawford... he's got a knife!

He's going to k*ll Charlie.

[cheers and applause in distance]

[slow piano music playing]

# Blue again.

# It's you again.

# Here comes the same old fear. #

[piano music stops]

Thank you.
Thank you all very much.

We're gonna take a break from here.

- [woman] Aww!
- [applause]

[suspenseful music playing]

[Crawford] Ah.

[Crawford chuckling]

You've been avoiding me.

Why?

Why d'you think?

OK. This is exceptionally dangerous.

We're doing this
because it's dangerous.

[Crawford] I wrote those songs.

Me.

- Everything you have, you've stolen.
- No, no, no.

- You thieving dog!
- No.

- It's all mine!
- Crawford, calm down.

[scatting]

[both grunting]

Julian!

[grunting]

I don't need eyes to find you!

- Calm down.
- George!

[grunting]

We wrote those songs together,

then I bought you out,
fair and square.

It's not a crime
I was more successful.

Argh!

En garde, you little toerag!

Oh.

Oh, you got him.
[breathing heavily]

Well done.

- My card.
- [gasps]

[officer] Come on! Move!

Charlie. Charlie.

I'm OK, really.

They loved you, Charlie.
They loved you.

They loved Cab Vee.

You saved my life again. Thank you.

Second time you've done it.

Let's just hope there's not a third.

That's not the end of it?

Crawford told me he wanted to look
you in the eye when he k*lled you.

But whoever put the acid in your
drink didn't care about that.

They just wanted you dead.

So that means there's someone else.

The Bandits. Do you trust them?

With my life.

Charlie, you should go to your room
and lock the door.

As should you.

I don't know what's going on...

plus ca change...

but enough is enough!

First thing tomorrow, we're leaving.

All of us.

Assemble here in reception
at nine o'clock.

This place is simply too dangerous.

I suggest that, like Mr Vee here,
we all go to our rooms.

Now!

I'm gonna go tell Wentworth.

[Wentworth] You can't leave me.
I need you here.

You cannot let that tiresome man
obstruct our mission.

That tiresome man, Wentworth,
is my father.

I can't be held responsible for that.

George...

I'm distraught.
Look at me being distraught.

What do you mean "our" mission?
What do you contribute?

I contribute... Gabriela.

Hm. Time to crank her up a bit.

What are you really up to?

I've done some... regrettable things.

[George] You don't say.

But what I have seen
in the future has changed me.

We are at the threshold
of a global cataclysm.

What an achievement
it would be if,

right here, right now,

we could stop Death in his tracks.

You're a terrible person.

Have you never wanted
to be wicked?

There.

That hesitation.
There's the proof.

You envy me my freedom.

The freedom to simply be bad...

...because one can.

You'd love it.

You have no idea what I'd love.

[ominous music playing]

[muffled sobs]

Anne?

Hey. Are you all right?

I was dreaming
about Mummy and Daddy.

Sorry.

Don't be sorry. I miss them, too.

What's going to happen, d*ck?

We can't stop the w*r
and we can't stop the k*ller

and we're supposed
to sing Green Grow the Rushes, O

all together on my birthday,

and the world's going so fast,

and everything's so awful now
and sad.

[indistinct voices in distance]

[man] Charlie, you got a minute?

Mr Vincent,
I've been trying to tell you.

The fact of the matter is

I haven't been paid for
three months.

Not a penny, and all my clothes
are falling apart and...

Mr Vincent, I just feel spent.

[Mr Vincent]
Can I show you something?

The cupboard...

...is empty.

[sighs]

It's over.

Nothing left, my dear.

When these guests settle up,
I shall give all the money to you.

And then, well...

...that will be the end
of the Prospect Hotel.

[Charlie] I know what I want to do
and what I have to do.

And if you were a man,
you'd know it too.

[Standing] You know what, pal?

It's a death wish.
You actually want to die.

Well, I hope you get
a kick out of it, brother,

cos it could be coming
sooner than you think.

Now, that was a threat.

Dad, we think there's somebody else
who's trying to k*ll Charlie.

I don't want to hear it.

Oh, come on, Dad.
This simply isn't fair.

George.
Call the Fairness Police.

I want everybody in the truck.

I'm going to fetch your mother.

Professor!

You have regarded
the perfection of the day?

Er, good morning.
Not as such, no.

The elements align superbly
for my demonstration.

You have not forgot?

The time has come for me to expose
the limits of your science.

Hm? I will take you to the place
where the ley lines meet.

Professor, vamos!

You gave your word.

You shouldn't go back
on your word, Dad.

- That wouldn't be tennis.
- Cricket.

Whatever.
Very bad example to us.

Quite so, George.

Science or sorcery?

Let us resolve, today.

Right. One hour.

And then we are going straight home,

and I'm going to be very strict
about it.

Senorita. Lead the way.

Standing's on another call.

[suspenseful music playing]

[Standing] And that is
what you want me to do?

[man on phone]
Now you're getting the idea.

Because the consequences
will be irreversible.

You understand that?

[man on phone] Do you understand
who pays your way?

Then I shall do it immediately.

- [dog barks]
- [George] Come on, quickly!

[knocking]

- [dog barks]
- Standing.

He's on his way to k*ll you.

He's the one
who put the acid in your drink,

and just now he was
on the telephone

to the American,
ordering him to do it now.

[knock on door]

- [dog barks]
- [door handle rattling]

[George] That must be him.

[Standing] Charlie? Open up.

What is it, Standing?

[Standing] You've got your w*r.

- [Julian] Charlie.
- [George] Don't do it!

[suspenseful music playing]

I explained you wouldn't budge,
and they said OK.

A few expletives first,
but in the end, OK.

So, you're free to go
and get yourself shot to pieces

for king and country,
you colossal dodo.

I've revised the contract
accordingly.

Could somebody please explain?

I came back to England because
I want to fight for my country.

My record label... him...
would prefer me not to.

They tripled my money.
Is that still the deal?

Mm-hm.

They want me to stay safe in America.

But if England falls,
even America won't be safe.

If the contract lets me fight,
I'll sign it.

The money will be arriving shortly.

In w*r-proof form.

[ominous music playing]

So... if it isn't Mr Standing,

or Crawford, or Charlie's dad...

then who put the acid
in Charlie's drink?

[knock on door]

[Charlie] Somebody's been busy
on the black market.

Maybe you shouldn't eat that.

[Charlie] Fans always send me gifts.
It's harmless.

[coughing]

[laughing]

That's not funny.

What about the, er, Lady of Spain?

Miss Haruspex? What's her story?

Or his, for that matter?

They're both a curried egg short
of the full picnic, if you ask me.

[dog barks]

He agrees, look.

[barking]

Stop! There's something wrong
with that fruit!

[dog barking, whimpering]

[Charlie] George, not absolutely
everybody in the world

is trying to k*ll me.

Sometimes people just want
to do nice things.

Well, she's not endemic
to the British Isles.

[gasping]

[shouting, whimpering]

[dog barks]

[whimpering]

d*ck, what the heck is that?

Whew.

Venom-wise, she's number one.

Super deadly.

A Wandering Spider from Brazil.

Brazil means Clutterbuck!

[dramatic music playing]

[Quentin] Are you sure
you know where you're going?

This a place
where the ley lines embrace.

Here I can demonstrate
the feeblyness of your science.

You say "feeblyness of science"?

Not often, senorita.

But the land knows I am about
to disclose its secrets.

Mirar!

It fights back.

It sends the fog to confound us.

No matter.

- Extract your compass.
- Ah? Oh yes...

It will fail you.

What you shall observe is
the energy of angels.

What I shall observe
will be elementary physics.

Good lord!

Good heavens.

Senorita?

Very well. Now...

Allowing for
barometric irregularity...

taking into account
the curvature of the Earth...

I say...

...this way.

Oh! Argh! Oh!

Blimey!

Eugh!

Senorita?

[suspenseful music playing]

Ah, George,
I'm looking for Dad.

Er, he went on a walk on the Ridge.

Without you? He'll get lost.

He went with
that wiggly Spanish lady

he was dancing with.

Well, he'll probably be
all right, then.

Where are you go...

Senorita.

Where's my husband?

Quentin.

What is "Quentin"?

[suspenseful music playing]

Lost any big spiders lately?

What gives you the right
to be so pert?

I dunno, maybe the fact that you keep
trying to k*ll Charlie Vincent?

The music was revolting,

but it doesn't quite deserve
the death penalty.

Then why plant
a Brazilian Wandering Spider

in his fruit bowl?

Are you following any of this?

You've just got back from Brazil.
You said so.

So it's obviously you.

Could I possibly have
a word with you people?

In private?

Children. Goodness.

Shouldn't be allowed out.

Nasty children. Don't like you.

We never went to Brazil.

She controls the money,
and there isn't any money.

We can't all up sticks
for New York, y'know.

I thought she was rich.

She pretends to be rich because
for her, that's good manners.

[Miss Clutterbuck] Angela!

Come here!

So, nobody's been to Brazil.

Well, that spider didn't just
walk here from South America.

Julian, please tell Mr Vincent

to gather everyone on the list
in the bar.

I know who the k*ller is.

[compass clicking]

Ha!

Iron! Iron! Ha!

Einstein, you can come out
from behind the sofa!

Professor Barnard, I presume?

Fanny! Oh, my darling!
I am so happy.

Do you see this rock?
It's full of iron.

It's a giant magnet.
It's not magic.

It's science.

OK.

I think in future
we might put you on a lead.

Ladies and gentlemen...

Eugh! Is there much more of this?

Someone in this room has tried
to k*ll Charlie Vincent,

aka Cab Vee,
and they have failed.

Twice.

We believe that
that person will try again.

Crawford isn't in this room.

Crawford doesn't count.
That was an act of madness.

The acid and the spider
were carefully planned.

So, first...

Mr Vincent. Your hotel is broke.

You blame Charlie
for refusing to take on

the burden of the business,

for "legging it" to America.

But you feel sorrow,
rather than anger.

You wouldn't k*ll your own son.

In fact, you helped save his life.

You are not the assassin.

Huh!

Next. Mr Standing.

Sent here to prevent
Charlie joining the Army,

not least by means of bribery.

Substantial bribery, old boy.

[d*ck] So, it's in your interest
to protect him.

You, also, are not the k*ller.

Is this tonight's entertainment?
[scoffs]

It's pretty slim.

Miss Clutterbuck.

You openly despise Charlie Vincent.

You loathe jazz music because
it represents freedom and joy.

You're a snob and a bully
and a deeply unpleasant person.

No offence.

Mmph!

But you, also, are not the m*rder*r.

All these people can be set aside.

For the person we seek

is even now determined
to close their hands

around the throat of Charlie Vincent.

Miss Angela.

Your arms are itchy.

The mosquitoes in Brazil
are very fierce.

But not as fierce as the Wandering
Spider you brought back.

I said we never went to Brazil.

[d*ck] You did say.

But that was a lie.

When Charlie Vincent
"upped sticks for New York",

he left behind a broken heart.

Yours.

For you and he were once romantically
connected, were you not?

You were in love.

And now you are jealous, vengeful,

and like those mosquitoes,
hungry for blood.

In short, you are a k*ller.

I'm sorry, but that's not right.

I was in love, yes,

but it wasn't with
Angela Clutterbuck.

Are we done?

Whilst I appreciate your efforts,
this is all too much.

Miss Angela.

What is it
that you're not telling us?

You fatuous child.

It's the simpering waitress.
She's the one.

She adored him.

They were "romantically connected"
for years.

Then he shoved off to New York
and she broke into a million pieces.

No one hates Cab
quite as vividly as she does.

Dilys. I'm talking about Dilys.

[slow piano music playing]

[door creaks]

[door closes]

[piano music stops]

I've just written the ending.

This B-flat at the top's gone dead,
so try not to hear that.

[piano music playing]

# So true again.

# No you again.

# The same from year to year.

[ominous music playing]

# Each day I wish my life away.

# Wishing that you were near. #

[piano music stops]

Leaving you here was
the biggest mistake of my life.

Every day
I've wanted to tell you that,

and every day I've failed,
even here.

So I guess I deserve what I deserve.

[gentle music playing]

Did you write that for me?

It's called A Sad Song For Dilys.

So I think I must have.

I behaved disgracefully to you.

And I'm very, very sorry.

[door bangs]

She's hypnotised him!

This is the vision.
He can't defend himself.

Wait.

Look and learn.

You. It was always you.

[music swells]

So it wasn't m*rder.
It was... that stuff?

Yuck.

Hey, detectives.

A guy usually gets to do this
in private.

But I guess you've got to
work with what you've got.

Dilys Shepherd, will you marry me?

Yes...

Yes, Charlie. I will, yes!

So... I'm so confused.

Dilys, you didn't come here
to m*rder Charlie?

I didn't know what I came for.

I just...
knew I had to be alone with him.

You dreamt it all wrong.

It wasn't a dream.
It was a vision.

You impetuous fools.

Death is bearing down on this man.
Here. Now!

Everyone who doesn't
want to get shot, move.

I'm the one
whose life you ruined, Charlie.

I'd been scrimping
and saving for years

to get away from my mother, the
ghastly toboggan-faced old hag.

Every time she left sixpence for
a tip, I'd go back and get it.

I'd pick up pennies in the street.

The collection plate comes round for
the offertory hymn, I'd take from it.

All I wanted was enough money
to get a ticket to anywhere.

To get away.

And you sneaked into my room
and you stole it, you...

sneaking sneak thief!

- Wait, wait, wait...
- [George] Just a minute.

I have an idea.

I don't know how much money
Charlie stole from you...

A lot.

£200.





So... so here's my vision
of the future.

Charlie pays the £203 back.

With interest. Now.

- Agreed?
- Of course. Yes.

Meanwhile, Charlie marries Dilys,

joins the army, beats up Hitler,

and writes hundreds
of fantastic songs

to inspire the whole country

and make everyone feel brilliant.

Except your mother, who will hate
every single minute of it.

So just stop this now, Angela.

You stop it!

I said it first.

She did, actually.

[sobbing]

Well done. Right decision.

But you might have to go
to prison for a little bit.

Always has to be
the centre of attention, hmph!

Relax.
Your property's undamaged.

It's your property I'm thinking of.
[whistles]

I said we made your money w*r-proof.

You're being paid -
open up - in gold.

Three beautiful babies.

What'll you do with them?

Simple division.

One for my father,
to rescue the Prospect

and pay the staff what they're owed.

One to be held in a fund for Angela,
for pinching her savings.

And one for Dilys,
because I love her.

Mr Vincent, will you kindly secure
this case in the hotel safe?

My pleasure, sir.

Thank you. Oh! [groans]

Charlie?

Can you find it in your heart...
to forgive me?

My dear son?

[laughs]

Oh, I'll just... Yeah.

Safe. Yeah.

Listen, all.

Now might be the time to tell you

that this afternoon, your
Uncle Quentin had a telegram.

"Flap on.
Presence required abroad.

Any chance our lot stay
Kirrin immediate future?

Gillian. Jack."

Oh, that's fantastic!

How can you be happy?

I mean, Kirrin, that's wonderful,
but Mum and Dad

are heading into danger,
on my birthday.

Chin up, sis.

We have to be brave about stuff
when we can.

It's our w*r effort.

Like the whale fat.

There's something bugging me.

Do you remember the numbers
on the wall?


What about them?

I think I know what they mean.

[dramatic music playing]

[Julian] Hat off in the house,
Wentworth.

[switch clicks]

And you, Gabriela, not your colour.

Children. I'm busy.

All lies.
Everything you said. Lies.

You've been spying on this room
since the day you got here.

You've known for a long time
how to open that safe.

But you had to wait.

Because you knew
the gold was on its way.

The money will be arriving shortly,
in w*r-proof form.

That meant Charlie
had to stay alive, yes...

but only long enough for
him to sign the new contract.

You didn't care
about his life at all.

Look.
All this is just a little...

taking things
from other people's lives

to improve your own, you know.

I really thought
you'd become a good person.

Oh, spare me
the moral flagellation.

I'm not used to being poor.
I don't like it.

Neither does she.

We can't all be riff-raff.

Is this all you are, Wentworth?

Another sneak thief?

No, my dear.

I'm also your teacher.

And this particular lesson...
is concluded.

[dramatic music playing]

[dog barks]

[indistinct shouting]

- [George] Timmy!
- [dog barks]

Augh! My ankle!

Thomas!

Sorry, my dear, but...

I really need this gold.

[grunts]

[shouting]

That way. Into the marsh.

- [Julian] Wentworth!
- [George] Wentworth, stop!

Wentworth! That's a marsh!
It's dangerous! You have to stop!

[Wentworth] Damn!

[George] Wentworth!

[Anne] He's stuck!

[Wentworth grunting]

He's sinking!

Children, I don't wish to be rude,

because, inexplicably,
I've grown rather fond of you, but...

What did you say?

You're sinking.

[groaning]

We have to get him out of there.

Wentworth. Grab hold of me.

Drop the bag and take my hand.

Grab my hand.

Wentworth, please!

Oh! Ah!

Look. Wentworth.

I know you said you wanted
to stop Death in his tracks.

I know you were lying.

But I'm not, Wentworth.
I want you to live.

Ah! Augh!

Save me, children! Save me!

Pull!

[Wentworth] Augh! Pull!

Timmy, this has to be
all five of us, OK?

Pull away! Pull away!

[growling]

Nobody's going to die today!

Nobody.

[all shout]

[gasping]

The truth is, estimado...

I've never greatly enjoyed
being with you.

[Wentworth sighs]

I don't like being with me either.

But it's something
we both have to put up with.

There's no "have to", Thomas,

because there's no "we both".

Hasta manana.

Your Spanish, like everything
else, is inadequate.

You mean adios.

[dog barks]

[grunting]

- [Anne] Come on!
- [George] Pull, Timmy! Pull!

- Good boy!
- [d*ck] You've got this, Julian.

[Anne] Pull, Julian!

- [metal clatters]
- [d*ck] Yes! That's it!

[George] Yes! You've got it!

[Anne] Oh, we did it!
We got the gold.

[George] Good boy, Timmy!

It's OK.

You do look a bit like a panda,

but there's always something
nice to look forward to.

Tomorrow's my birthday!

[Fanny] Finished.

Detective Monroe finally tracked down

the m*rder victim's
missing monocle...

in a spooky old hotel.

But where, exactly?
Three guesses.

Julian?

Behind a painting with fake eyes?

Oh, I like it!

No. George?

In a sulphuric acid martini,
dissolving?

Very stylish.

No. One more guess. d*ck?

In the piano.

Good grief.
How did you know that?

It's trapped under the B-flat.

That's why the note can't sound.

Richard Barnard.

If I were wearing a hat,
I would sweep it off to you.

I may even put one on
just for the purpose.

What's the matter with Anne?

[Julian] Oh...

There's this thing we do at home,
on her birthday.

It's so silly. We sing this song.

Green Grow.

Mum and Dad
sing the question bit,

and we sing the answer bit.

But...

I think she's just a bit sad
that we can't all be together.

Look.

We have a tradition
in this household

where you get to open
one present before the cake.

I get to choose.

Anne? This one.

Came this afternoon.

- Gramophone, please.
- Mm-hm.

It's a record!

May I?

[blows]

[Gillian] Is it recording?
Oh, right.

It's Mummy!

[dog barks]

[Gillian] Hello, my darlings.

I'm here with Daddy
in a recording studio.

[Jack] Hello, Team B.

And Daddy!

[Gillian] And this is our birthday
present to Anne.

I've asked Aunt Fanny to
hand this over at the right moment.

Right. Are you ready?

[laughing]

[Gillian and Jack]
# I'll sing you one, o! #

[Jack] We can't hear you.

# Green grow the rushes-o.

[Gillian and Jack]
# What is your one, o?

# One is one, and all alone,
and evermore shall be so!

[Gillian and Jack]
# I'll sing you two, o!

-# Green grow the rushes-o! #
-[laughter]

[closing theme music playing]