05x06 - The Chocolate Box

[bunniefuu]

[mysterious jazz music]

[music]

[thunder rumbling]

Can't you understand?

It's our future and Belgium's
future that I'm thinking of.

The Catholic Church has narrowed
your mind, Marianne,

just as it has my mother's.

But don't you see, Paul?

You keep asking me to choose
between you and my faith.

I can't believe what
you're saying, Marianne.

You mean fresh ideas
have no place in your mind?

My God,
we're into a new century,

but you are stuck in the last,
just like your damned clergy.

Attacking the church
won't help Belgium, Paul.

It'll turn
the people against you.

I don't att*ck it!

I want it to open its eyes.

And as my wife, the wife
of a government minister,

you should support me in that.

I married you for love, Paul,

not to advance
your political career.

Marianne, come back here!

Marianne!

[screams]

[gasps]

[eerie music]

[music]

[man speaking French
over loudspeaker]

Well, Poirot, how does it feel

being back in Brussels
again after so many years?

In the eye of my mind,
Chief Inspector,

I have never left.

Place is bound
to have changed, though.

Naturellement.

But we are not here
for the memory lane of Poirot,

mon ami, non?

We come for the paying
of the tributes

to your good self.

To be made
a Compagnon de la Branche d'Or,

it is the highest honor
my country can bestow.

Very kind of Belgium, yes.

But all I've done
over the years is my job.

Not at all, Chief Inspector.

Time and again, ever since
the Abercrombie forgery case,

you have helped
the Belgian police.

And my country, it is grateful.

Pity Emily couldn't come.

Still, I think she was right.

Brussels is a far cry
from Isleworth.

Her loss is my gain.

It is an honor to deputize
for Madame Japp.

Poirot.

Chantalier.

[both laughing]

Ah.

Mon dieu, 20 years,
and you look the same.

Is this fair, mon ami, eh?

- Oh.
- Oh, pardon.

You know the
Chief Inspector Japp, of course.

We work together often.

Congratulations
on your new appointment, sir,

Commissaire de Police.

However did you manage, sir,
when he went off to England?

He wasn't always so clever,
Chief Inspector.

You remember Paul Deroulard?

I remember
that it was not I

who made the mistakes
in that case.

It was everyone else.

The old modesty lives on.

Paul Deroulard d*ed
of natural causes, Hercule.

The verdict of the court
is there for all time.

Mm-hmm.

And it is wrong.

Tell you what.
I'm a disinterested party.

Let me be the judge of this.

It was just before the w*r,
Chief Inspector.

His death was reported
to the police in the-

Ah.

That was the first mistake.

The Deroulard case
began two years earlier,

when his wife Marianne fell
down the stairs to her death.

An accident, Poirot.

The Belgian philosopher
himself Georges Tabineau

once said to me-
he said, "Poirot,

there is no such thing
as an accident".

However, we shall let that pass.

On the night of his death,

Paul Deroulard
was entertaining some friends.

Seated around the table were
Virginie Mesnard.

Next to her, the distinguished
friend of Paul,

le Comte du St. Alard.

At the head of the table,

the mother to Paul,
Madame Deroulard,

and at her side,
her confidant and advisor,

an old family friend,
Gaston Beaujeu.

- It's a lovely wine.
- Good.

Virginie was
cousin to Marianne,

the dead wife of Paul.

That new language law, Paul,
what exactly does it say?

From now on,
all commands in the army

must be given in Flemish
as well as French.

All I pray is that you
and your friends in government

have no plans for the mass
to be said in Flemish, Paul.

Now I see it.

This law is just
the tip of the iceberg.

Your late wife
always said that one day

you'd get your claws
into the church.

Absurd.

Now, sit down, St. Alard, before
you make a fool of yourself.

The press knows you're against
the Catholic Church, Paul.

For your own sake,
I forbid you to say any more.

And given half the chance,

you'd appease
the Kaiser as well.

Then I suppose
we'd all be speaking German.

Another chocolate,
Monsieur Beaujeu?

After dinner,
it was left to Gaston Beaujeu,

in his customary role
as mediator,

to soothe the troubled waters.

Thank you.

You and St. Alard
have been friends too long

to fall out over politics.

He lives in the past.

A divided Belgium, Gaston,

Flemings to the North,
Walloons to the south,

that's our history,
not our future.

But if Germany att*cks,

where will he stand then?

In the front line, my friend,
have no fear.

He would
take them on single-handed.

At around midnight,
the guests departed.

Madame retired
to her nightly devotions,

and the Deroulard household
slept.

All except Paul,
a sl*ve to insomnia,

who returned to his study
in order to work.

Paul had a reputation for
his austerity and discipline.

He did, however, have two vices:

the pursuit of his career

and chocolates.

[muttering]

[clock chiming]

[gasping]

[gurgling]

My duties
as a junior police officer

involved my regular attendance
at the court of the coroner.

The death of Paul Deroulard
was treated

by all those concerned
as a matter of routine.

Indeed not, Your Honor.

Paul Deroulard...

Those giving evidence
saw no reason

to question the death of Paul,

and at first, neither did I.

Being the victim
of foul play...

The principal witness
in the case was my superior,

Superintendent Boucher.

Foul play
might have been the case?

Nothing whatsoever, monsieur.

We searched the house
and found nothing untoward.

You may step down.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I am more than satisfied

that Paul Deroulard's death,
though a tragedy, of course,

was due to heart failure,

And I give
my verdict accordingly.

That can't be right!

You have further evidence,
Mademoiselle Mesnard?

I tell you,
he can't just have d*ed.

Well, why do you
take everyone at their word?

I would advise you,
mademoiselle,

to guard your remarks
when addressing me.

Forgive her, monsieur,

but she is much affected
by the death.

We will look after her.

My colleague Chantalier and I

felt that the case was
being dismissed too readily.

And although
we were only there as observers,

we decided it was our duty

to raise the matter
with Superintendent Boucher.

Superintendent Boucher,

one moment, if you please.

Chantalier and myself,
we would be very happy

to investigate further
the Deroulard case.

What for, may I ask?

Oh, the outburst
of the young lady in court.

Can-can we ignore that?

And also, the victim,
he was a government minister.

That is precisely why you will
put it out of your mind, Poirot.

Superintendent-

The case is closed, gentlemen.

But it was
an invitation most unexpected

which ensured
that the case was not closed.

Ah, Hercule.

Henri,bonjour, ?a va?

Mmhmm.

Why have you
kept it a secret from me?

What are you talking about,
Henri?

The young lady
I spoke to you about,

she's at table five.

Ah.

Merci.

She asked for you specially.

By name?

By mustache.

Hercule Poirot?

At your service, mademoiselle.

Virginie Mesnard.

Mademoiselle Mesnard.

Would you take a seat, please?

Merci.

I was in court, mademoiselle,

when you expressed
a certain doubt

concerning the death
of Monsieur Paul Deroulard.

How can he have d*ed
of heart failure?

He was such a robust man.

And that is all upon which
you base your doubt,

his apparent good health?

And some feminine instinct,
monsieur.

You believe in such a thing?

Perhaps.

Why is it that you come to me?

A friend of mine is
a secretary at the local paper,

and the editor
mentions your name often.

"A spark in the otherwise dull
embers of the police force,"

he says.

Ah.

He is a man of perception.

[laughs]

Will you help me, monsieur?

Et bien, mademoiselle,
I have been told

that the case, it is closed.

[sighs]

But I am due some leave,

which I shall take.

A difficult smile to resist,
eh, Hercule?

Yes, indeed.

Oh, if you think
that the young lady

and not the case attracted me,
you do me a wrong, Claude.

Yet you still
wear the trinket she gave you.

What, this?

Bien s?r.

If you think that Poirot

could not see beyond
that smile most bewitching

and that her charm
was such that-

[scoffs]
- [laughs]

Toujours la femme,
Chief Inspector.

You have a phrase in English
which means the same?

Well, nothing as crisp
as yours, sir.

We just tend to say
something like,

"Mark my words,

there'll be a woman
at the bottom of it somewhere".

Hercule,
it's the Comte du St. Alard.

Ah, Monsieur le Comte,
bonsoir.

Will you join us?

Have you come to interfere
in yet more business

that doesn't concern you,

to ruin a few more reputations?

As mayor of this city,
St. Alard,

your reputation
has never been better.

No thanks
to this meddling upstart,

I swore to myself, Poirot,

the next time I saw you,

no matter when it was,
the very next time, I would-

Monsieur le Comte.

If that's
the Belgian aristocracy,

it's about time
you had a revolution.

He was not entirely
unprovoked, Chief Inspector.

I was there, Poirot.
You didn't do anything.

But you were not there
all those years ago,mon ami,

when I gave him cause
to resent me.

This, um,
Compagnon de la Branche d'Or

they're awarding me, Poirot...

Ouiais?

I mean, what exactly
is a Branche d'Or?

It is a golden branch
of an olive tree, mon ami.

In Greek mythology,
he who carried it

became invincible.

Very useful in our line of work,
n'est-ce pas, Chief Inspector?

Do we know
who's presenting it yet?

By tradition, it must be
a fellow compagnon.

But who it will be
is yet undecided.

My wife wanted royalty,
of course,

but I'm not fussy.

Ah!

The Deroulard house.

It has changed very little.

The refusal
of Superintendent Boucher

to further investigate the death
had angered me.

So it was
that in the company of Virginie,

I began my own inquiries.

On arriving
at the Deroulard house,

I met for the first time
Madame Deroulard.

You must introduce
the young man, Virginie.

She doesn't bring home
many friends, Monsieur...

Hercule Poirot, madame.

I am a policeman.

I've seen too much
of the police lately,

Monsieur Poirot.

And all have believed
that your son,

he d*ed of heart failure,
madame?

I see the work of your hand
in this, Virginie.

Forgive me, madame,
but for Paul's sake,

I couldn't live with my doubts.

Perhaps I might be able
to put her mind at rest, madame,

when perhaps
I have seen the study

and spoken with your servants?

Who is this lady,
the wife of Monsieur Deroulard?

Yes.
Marianne, my cousin.

She d*ed two years ago,

an accident here in the house.

Paul never really got over it.

So he kept her in the desk?

Out of sight, out of mind,
perhaps?

Paul and his mother
had a permanent tussle.

I never really quite understood.

Paul would hide
the photograph in the drawer.

His mother
would bring it out again.

[knock at door]

Oh, Monsieur Beaujeu,

I'd like you to meet
Hercule Poirot.

Gaston is our neighbor.

Monsieur.

Monsieur.

I would urge you to be mindful
of Madame Deroulard's feelings.

She has lost her son.

I shall be discretion itself.

But if a crime
has been committed,

you will agree
that justice must be served.

Ah.

But these were made by a guest
at your table the other night,

le Comte du St. Alard.

Yes, he always
brings a box when he visits.

And the night
of the death of Paul Deroulard?

Yes, we had some
with our coffee.

What color
was the box at the table?

- I can't remember.
- Pink.

Are you certain, monsieur?

It was not of the two colors,

the pink and the green,
comme ?a?

Oh, how curious.
I wonder-

I just told you.

Both halves were pink.

Then, I suggest that there is
somewhere a second box.

One with a green lid

and a pink base.

If anyone knew the whereabouts
of the missing chocolate box,

it would be
the Deroulard servants.

Virginie took me to meet them.

This is Denise, the cook,
and Jeanette, the maid.

Mademoiselle.

Where is Francois, Denise?

I think he's taken
the afternoon off, mademoiselle.

The chocolate box comprising
the other two halves

had been removed by the
80-year-old butler, Francois.

That's the trouble
with going back over crimes.

The evidence gets lost.

I agree
that is usually the case,

but not this time,
Chief Inspector.

The servant Francois
had taken the box of chocolates

to give to a lady friend.

Over here, please,
Chief Inspector,

between these two pillars.

- If we must.
- Indeed we must.

I have promised
most faithfully to Madame Japp

to bring her back
the photographs.

Is this all right to take now?

That should do the trick,
Poirot.

Bon.

Thank you.

Lady friend?

This Francois,
you said he was nearly 80.

Only an Englishman would see

the contradiction there,
mon ami.

I found them seated at a cafe,
playing chess,

eating what was left
of the chocolates.

And the fact
they were still alive

told you
their box wasn't poisoned.

Pr?cis?ment.

Merci, madame.

But this
is the same box of chocolates

that you handed around
on the night of our tragedy.

The same box.

But with a different lid,
n'est-ce pas?

I don't know.

Help yourself.

Ah,non, merci.

Tell me, monsieur,

have you ever
had any disagreements

with your employer?

Over what?

His easy ideas about religion,

his accommodation
of the Flemish language?

[laughs]

I am too old to quarrel
over trivial matters, monsieur.

And yet, there was an argument
over dinner, was there not,

between le Comte du St. Alard
and his host?

Check.

St. Alard att*cked my employer
for being a liberal.

And Madame Deroulard?

His mother,
she is also a liberal?

Sadly, no.

A good Catholic, monsieur,

devout like St. Alard.

Tell me, Francois,

does any of the household
use poisons?

I do battle with the rats
from time to time,

but not in the last
three months.

And does anyone
take the medications perhaps?

There are Madame's eye drops,

but would they be poisonous?

Your move.

Checkmate.

[laughs]

- Bonjour, H?l?ne.
- Monsieur.

Monsieur Ferraud,
s'il vous pla?t.

Merci.

C'est Monsieur Poirot.

Ah, Hercule.

Jean-Louis, bonjour, ?a va?

Tell me this minute,
what is between you

and this Virginie Mesnard?

Jean-Louis, your long nose
will be the death of you.

Your safety
is all that concerns me.

Thank you.

Jean-Louis, inside this envelope
are crumbs of chocolate.

I want you to tell me
by your analysis

exactly what they contain,

and whether or not
they contain poison.

Now, you're filling
a regular prescription

for Madame Deroulard?

For the eye drops?

- Atropine.
- Atropine?

Now, could this atropine
k*ll a man?

If drunk by the liter,
perhaps.

Ah, the death
of Monsieur Deroulard.

Oui,
and the servant Francois

brings to you this prescription
once a month?

That's right.

Although last week,
their neighbor brought it.

Gaston Beaujeu?

Yes.

He required
medication of his own.

I waited eagerly

for the results
of the analysis of Jean-Louis.

This was my first investigation
as a private detective.

But my good friend Chantalier
was about to remind me

that the day when Poirot
would rule his own destiny

was yet to come.

Hercule!

I've been
looking everywhere for you.

Why?
There is a problem?

I give you my word, Hercule,
he didn't hear it from me,

but Superintendent Boucher
wants to see you.

En voiture.

Will I need earplugs?

I've had
Madame Deroulard here.

She has friends in high places,
Poirot,

Xavier St. Alard, for one.

He's likely to be
the next mayor of Brussels

and, as such, could make
my life extremely difficult,

whereupon I will make yours
even more so.

And what exactly
have you found out, hmm?

Just so that we know.

It is my belief

that Monsieur Paul Deroulard
was poisoned,

and poisoned by a chocolate

made by the next mayor
of this city.

God in heaven, man.

You don't just
harass his friends.

You accuse him of m*rder.

I accuse no one...

Yet.

Tell us, what did Boucher say?

Oh, about my findings?

- He was impressed.
- Never.

I did not say
favorably impressed.

Hercule, for your own sake,

- you've got to drop this.
- Oh.

Please, Virginie,
make him see sense.

I hope I haven't made things
awkward for you.

Hercule?

Not at all.

Virginie...

Et bien, at 6:00,
I have coming to my apartment

a friend of mine
who is a chemist, eh?

He is going to tell me exactly
what those chocolates contain.

If you are finished,
would you

come and meet him?

Yes?
Bon.

This way.

Hercule.

Ouais?

I haven't told you
how grateful I am for your help.

Oh, it is nothing.

But, uh, perhaps...

Perhaps this will say it for me.

Virginie.

Thank you.

Oh.

Virginie, you should not have.

You see, some people
might have thought me mad.

Perhaps you did.

No.

But at least you gave me
the benefit of the doubt.

Merci beaucoup.

Please.

- Hercule.
- Ah.

Hercule,
it is exactly as we thought.

- Uh-huh?
- The crumbs you gave me-

- Yes?
- Oh.

Ah, pardon,
Jean-Louis Ferraud,

allow me to introduce you to
Mademoiselle Virginie Mesnard.

Enchant?.

Thank you so much for everything
you're doing to help me.

Diable.

Wait!

Wait, I am the police!

Wait!

Stop, you!

[breathing heavily]

Monsieur Beaujeu,
what's happening?

Explain yourself.

My heart, Poirot.

Pills.
The waistcoat pocket.

Do not worry, monsieur.

We will get you to a hospital.

What was he after
in your flat?

The envelope containing
the crumbs of chocolate.

Which weren't there anyway.

Had your chemist friend
done his analysis?

Oh, yes.

The crumbs contained
a substance called trinitrin.

It is taken
for the high blood pressure.

And Jean-Louis had made up
an urgent prescription

for Gaston Beaujeu
two days before the m*rder.

So you'd got him.

And what is more,
Chief Inspector,

the taste of those pills
is so vile,

that they were
made of chocolate.

Wait a minute.

Why did Chantalier say

that you'd made a pig's ear
of this one, then?

Because that is what
I allowed him to believe.

Perhaps the time has now come
to straighten the record.

Bonjour.

Poirot.

So this lot, they're all

Compagnon de la Branche d'Or,
are they?

Each and every one a hero.

Not what you'd call young,
are they?

Young at heart, perhaps.

Stand up.

[horn fanfare]

[music]

Bienvenu
Compagnon de la Branche d'Or.

[horn fanfare]

[music]

I did not know
that Gaston Beaujeu

had been made a Compagnon.

Oh, yes.

I look around this hall today,

and I see nothing but heroes.

Men who have made
great sacrifices.

Today we honor
an English policeman

for services
beyond the call of duty.

And as he joins
the ranks of the invincible few,

I proclaim James Harold Japp

a Compagnon de la Branche d'Or.

Vive Compagnon!

All: Vive le Compagnon.

[applause]

Good evening.

Nice to see you.

Ah, congratulations,
Chief Inspector.

It's an honor to be
one of your select company, sir.

Well, don't forget,
our reunion dinners

are quite something.

And you must tell Madame Japp
we expect her here next time.

[laughs]

Non, merci.
Ah.

Congratulations,
Chief Inspector Japp.

Ah, c'est tr?s ?l?gant.

Come, let us have some food.

I think it's "help yourself"
time, Poirot.

Oui.

Merci.

Not a bad chap, that Beaujeu,
once you start talking.

No, I am sure of it.

Yeah, but you had him down
as a suspect at one stage.

Well, even the good chaps

can sometimes k*ll their
fellow men, Chief Inspector.

I believe
Paul Deroulard was poisoned

with trinitrin.

Pills that you take
for high blood pressure.

Someone stole mine, Poirot.

From the house, from my coat;
I can't be sure.

I would like to think
that you're innocent, monsieur.

But you told to no one
that the pills were missing.

And then you
broke into my apartment,

presumably to steal
the crumbs of chocolate,

evidence which might
incriminate you.

I'm going to take you
into my confidence, Poirot,

which you
must promise to respect.

I give you my word, monsieur.

I work
for Belgian intelligence.

And my present job
is to find out

just who in the government
would collaborate with Germany,

if she wages w*r.

So Paul Deroulard
was not so much a friend

as a mine of information.

Unwittingly, yes.

Then let us hope
that for his indiscretions,

he did not pay with his life.

He tells me he is
a member of the secret service,

and then he makes me promise
to keep secret

this whole affair.

You see how he ties my hands?

En voiture.

How do I verify his story
without breaking the confidence?

Well, at least
he agrees with us

that Paul was m*rder*d.
Yes.

Whether or not by him
is another matter.

He had the means
but not the motive.

That is why we must dig deeper.

You know I would like to visit
the ch?teau of St. Alard, huh?

But there is a problem.

Monsieur le Comte
is always there.

There's one thing
he'll always venture out for.

What?

The opera.

Thank you.

Ah, Virginie.

Take care of her, monsieur.

[man singing operatically]

[music]

[man singing operatically]

[music]

[sighs]

[man singing operatically]

[music]

"Trinitrin, three times a day,
Monsieur Gaston Beaujeu".

Found in the pocket
of Xavier St. Alard.

Hercule, you're a genius.

- Maybe so.
- [laughs]

But to reopen the case,
Superintendent Boucher will need

a confession
from St. Alard himself.

Hercule, I'm not sure
you'd allow me to do this,

but St. Alard
holds me in high regard.

In fact, I...

You mean
he's in love with you?

Oh, please don't think I
return his affections, Hercule.

Far, far from it.

I believe you, Virginie.

Then why
don't I persuade him to talk?

Oh, no.

No, Virginie, this man,
he could be a m*rder*r.

If you were there...

Ah.

The audacity
of the plan of Virginie

appealed to me very much.

That night, Francois
had taken Madame Deroulard

to visit some friends.

The maid and the cook were
therefore free for the evening.

Virginie
had left the door

at the back of the house
unlocked.

And the trap,
it was ready to be sprung.

[dramatic music]

[music]

In spite of our differences,

Paul could be
such an amusing man.

That was thoughtless of me.

I haven't mentioned his death
since it happened,

and now is too early to do so.

Forgive me.

No, no, no.
Xavier, you misunderstand.

You see,

I can't help thinking that
his death was a just punishment.

Virginie.

I know the cause of his death
troubles you.

But he d*ed of heart failure,
Nothing else.

Some people do anything
for their faith, Xavier.

I admire that.

Suppose someone knew
that Paul had plans

to limit the church's power
in Belgium.

Would it be a sin to remove him?

To m*rder him?

Oh, but such people
would never be seen

as common murderers, though,

but as saviors.

Well, at least by the church,
don't you agree?

Virginie, you say all this
to comfort me, I know.

I had no right
to expect such understanding.

Least of all
from a member of his family.

What do you mean?

I'm the one responsible
for his death, Virginie.

You k*lled him?

As surely as if I had fired
a p*stol at his heart.

Monsieur Poirot!

What in God's name
are you doing here?

You break into
his private apartment.

Now, for most men,
that would be enough.

But not Poirot, oh, no.

Poirot then goes on to try
to trick him into a confession!

His last words,
Superintendent,

before the return
of Madame Deroulard, were,

"As surely as if I had fired
a p*stol at his heart".

Yes, Poirot, "As if".

As if, as if!

On the night
Paul Deroulard d*ed,

there was an argument
at the table.

St. Alard believes that argument

led to the seizure
that carried Paul off.

I believe that you yourself
should question him further.

I do not need your advice
on how to proceed, Poirot.

On the contrary, you need mine.

And you will begin
by visiting Madame Deroulard

and apologizing to her

for all the distress
you have caused.

Madame Deroulard.

I have come to apologize to you.

I should like you to stay,
Virginie.

So...

you think my son was m*rder*d.

I believe that your son
was poisoned, madame,

by Xavier St. Alard.

Poisoned?

Would St. Alard
use his own chocolates?

Are people so stupid?

Oh, yes,madame.

You would be surprised.

The stonemason,
he murders with his hammer,

the cutler with his Kn*fe,

the sweet-maker
with his soft centers.

I took some crumbs of chocolate
from this box, madame.

May I?

Thank you.

They contained
a substance called trinitrin,

a drug prescribed
to your neighbor Gaston Beaujeu.

And you questioned him?

Oui, madame,
and he told me that the pills,

they had been stolen.

And when I searched
the ch?teau of St. Alard,

I found there the pill bottle,
which was empty.

A finding is one thing.

Can you prove all this?

Tomorrow I have an appointment
with a minister of justice,

and...

he cannot argue
with the scientific analysis

of Jean-Louis Ferraud.

And all from one
little mistake.

Francois told me.

To do with chocolate boxes,
I believe.

Oui, madame.

Having taken a few
of the chocolates from one box,

poisoned them, and then
put them back into another box,

the m*rder*r
replaced the lid incorrectly.

The green lid on the pink box.

Such details are always
at the heart of a case, madame.

You said the green lid
to the pink box.

Quite so.

Madame Deroulard,

in order that the wrong person
does not go to the guillotine,

I beg of you,
tell me once again.

What is the color of the lid,

and what is
the color of the box?

My eyesight
is not what is was, monsieur.

Your prescription
for eye drops

should have told me of the great
burden you carried.

For it was you,
Madame Deroulard,

who k*lled your son.

Despite your failing eyesight,

you added
the liquid trinitrin

from Beaujeu's pills
to a sweet filling.

You then put this mixture
into the chocolates

from the study of Paul.

You replaced the glac? fruit

to conceal
the lethal concoction within.

Having poisoned the chocolates
which were to k*ll him,

you then made
your only mistake...

The wrong lid

to the wrong box.

Having used
the pills of Beaujeu,

you then placed the pill bottle,
which was empty,

into the coat pocket
of le Comte du St. Alard.

Why, madame?

To get it away from the house?

Don't worry.

I wouldn't let him die
for my crime,

much as I dislike the man.

Well, why, madame?

Why k*ll your own son?

Because of what he was doing
to our country, Virginie,

and our church.

I pray, monsieur,
that no woman in the world

need ever choose again

between love of God

and the love of her child.

But to take a life
is a mortal sin, madame.

How can a woman of such
conviction so deny her faith?

Paul was a m*rder*r, monsieur.

She did not die
from an accident.

[thunder booming]

Can't you understand?

It's our future
and Belgium's future

that I'm thinking of.

I married you for love, Paul,

not to advance
your political career.

Marianne, come back here!

Marianne!

[screams]

[gasps]

He knew I had seen him do it,

but we never spoke of it.

Each of us afraid to admit

he was capable
of doing such a thing.

Ah, so instead, you taunt him
by displaying the photograph.

Before I d*ed,
I had to see justice done.

My doctors tell me

I have no more than
six months left in this world.

Will the truth wait six months,
monsieur?

Perhaps longer, madame.

No, you must tell it.

Tell all, when I've gone.

Why didn't you?

Why leave it till now?

And why
did Virginie say nothing?

She and I agreed
that it would be my decision.

Paul Deroulard,
he was a m*rder*r.

His mother acted for the greater
good of the country.

I admired her sacrifice,
her...

moral courage.

Who does anything these days
for the greater good?

At least I understand
why St. Alard bears a grudge,

you trying to trap him
like that.

Did you never
make your peace with him?

Well, had I told him
the reason why I suspected-

- Monsieur.
- Hmm?

Ah, merci.

Non.

Had I told him
the reason why I suspected him,

that I found the bottle
of trinitrin in his coat pocket,

he might then have asked me
who put it there.

Madame Deroulard.

I could not risk
his curiosity.

I wrote to him, of course,
apologizing for my behavior,

which was foolhardy,
irresponsible.

And no doubt he agrees with that
to this very day.

Claude, would you
sit there, please?

Chief Inspector?

One of those things we have
to live with in our profession.

Oui, bien s?r.

Ah!

- Jean-Louis.
- Hercule.

Oh,mon ami.

[laughs]

To see you
is to be young again.

I have thought about you often
down the years.

Oh,moi aussi, moi aussi.

Ah, mon ami, mon ami.

Hercule, Hercule, I would
like you to meet my two sons.

Your two so-

This is Henri.

Henri.

And this brave fellow
is Hercule.

Hercule?

You are indeed fortunate
to have such fine sons.

Henri, he has
a look of someone, yes?

Though, perhaps I am wrong.

No, I am right.
Hercule also.

There is a definite resemblance
to someone I know.

My wife, perhaps?

Virginie.

Hello, Hercule.

Bon soir...

Madame Ferraud.

I was just saying
to Jean-Louis

that he was always

the most fortunate of men.