The Blue Cross Father Brown

FATHER BROWN LAUGHS

-WIRELESS: 'Hello.

-Tindall? Moriarty.

-'I've been calling you for hours.

-I was engaged.'

HE LAUGHS HARDER

'What happened? Did she leave you?

'I'd rather not discuss it over the telephone.'

'I'm glad I caught you. I'm planning to steal the Mona Lisa.

'I'll need an accomplice, and you were in the frame.'

HE LAUGHS

'The Mona Lisa? Isn't she guarded?

'Well, if that smile is anything to go by...

-'Where shall we meet?

-In Paris, of course!

'I shall loiter outside the Louvre.'

Anybody there?

Another break-in last night. Ashmolean Museum, I hear.

I assume you can vouch for your whereabouts?

Red Lion all evening.

Pub full of alibis, and a sore head to prove it.

Don't you worry, Sid. These crimes, out of your league.

Out of yours, too, by the sounds of it.

A rousing homily, Father.

Now, about next Tuesday's parish committee meeting...

Your message sounded urgent.

There have been some changes made to the Adoration rota, and...

We're just waiting for...

CAR HONKS

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it's the bishop.

Thank you, Benson.

This had better be important, Brown.

Good afternoon, Your Lord...Your Grace. An unexpected pleasure.

I'm due at a diocese lunch.

Perhaps somewhere private? Hm?

I imagine you've been busy, this recent spate of thefts.

Busy building a case.

I left it in here for safekeeping.

Do hurry up, Brown, the suspense is killing me.

The brazen impertinence of the thefts,

the modus operandi, points to a certain criminal.

Flambeau.

Wanted across Europe for the purloining of priceless artefacts.

-Where did you get this?

-It was left in the church yesterday evening.

-I assume he intended me to find it.

-You seem very sure of that.

This note was posted to the presbytery. An anonymous tip-off.

Are you seriously telling me that this Flambeau intended

to steal the Blue Cross?

Worth a bit, is it?

It belonged to St Gredifael, a Welsh abbot.

Aside from the material value of the cross,

its veneration as a holy relic makes it priceless.

-He could have taken it last night.

-That would have been too easy.

It seems our thief is setting us a challenge.

-I'm keeping this as evidence.

-This isn't a crime scene...

yet.

-If the cross is in jeopardy...

-We'll move it to Newbury Priory.

We'll say it coincides with the Eucharistic Congress.

I'm sure the parish could spare me for a few days.

I'm sure it could.

As custodian of the cross, it's my duty to protect...

I am not about to entrust our relic, or my reputation,

to the care of an absent-minded priest.

The cross will be chaperoned by the County Constabulary's finest.

-This afternoon.

-Today?

The sooner the better. Catch this crook on the back foot. Hm?

-Hm?

-Hm?

Only a heathen would steal a holy relic.

Who'd have thought it? Hey? The Flambeau paying us a visit!

He's a thief!

And a thief is just a man with no respect for property.

On the contrary, Mrs M. Thieves respect property.

They merely wish it to be their own.

Oh!

-Lunch.

-Oh, is that what you call it?

Well, those potatoes look to me as if they're ready for the last rites.

Who asked you, anyway? First time I tried to do English dinner.

So I've put the feelers out, no-one's heard a thing.

We don't even know what he looks like.

This is my dish.

Well, I'm telling you, if he puts his mind to it,

he's going to steal that cross.

Unless someone steals the initiative.

Just get out of my way.

CHURCH BELL CHIMES TWO O'CLOCK

Inspector Valentine, here to escort the Blue Cross to Newbury.

Father Brown already took it.

I think he catch five-past-two train.

I still don't like this.

Defenceless priest travelling alone.

What better way to flush out a thief?

-I'm assuming you do have a plan?

-God will provide one.

You'll have it by the end of the day.

Of course you can trust me, I'm a man of my word.

Three and six?! Daylight bleedin' robbery!

I'm on disability!

For God's sake. I'm going to miss the first race.

Why don't you watch your mouth?

The train isn't due for another two and a half minutes.

Excuse me, Father. Didn't see you there. Please, after you.

-Oh, no, no.

-I insist.

You really are taking the mick.

Excuse me.

Return to Newbury.

Some people was born with no manners.

London-bound, meself. Penny short.

-Huh!

-Ah.

Ever so kind of you. Oi, 'scuse me. London, please.

Maybe we could share a compartment? A man with my frailties,

I'd feel safer travelling with a priest.

TRAIN WHISTLES

Mr Dawson. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Father.

In here.

Excuse me.

Terribly sorry.

Ain't this nice? Someone to pass the time with.

No room.

There's plenty of room.

I had you down as first class.

A parlance of poorer men will have to suffice.

A cripple, a ponce, a soldier and a priest...

..what a company we are.

CAR BELL RINGS

We'll head him off at the next station.

Turn that blinkin' bell off!

Nothing beats a day at the races.

Follow the horses, do you, Father?

I have to confess to the occasional flutter.

Is that what draws you to Newbury?

Alas, no. Ecclesiastical business.

The Somerset De Veys have racing in their blood.

-Will you permit me to give you a tip?

-Of course.

Filcher's Folly in the 3.45.

I'll check it out.

Watch me blooms!

Visiting a lady friend.

She runs a boarding house in Muswell Hill. Two weeks,

once a year - an arrangement that suits us both.

"By our deeds we are known."

The motto of the Gloucestershire Regiment.

-I'm impressed.

-I served in the Glosters in the Great War,

and before I realised my calling.

Korea, for me. Six-month tour of duty.

We sail tomorrow on the Santa Cruz.

A chaplain rarely sees real action.

Polio - stopped me fighting for King and Country...

..poliomyelitis, and a nervous disposition.

Must you? Plays havoc with me chest.

Interesting choice of reading.

The battle to land the big fish.

A parable of simple faith.

God always sends us where we are most needed.

Captain Flynn.

Father Brown.

POLICE: Don't let anyone leave the train. Allbright, take that end.

You take this end.

I might stretch my legs.

Will you excuse me?

-Well?

-No sign.

We're looking for a priest, Allbright.

Even you should be able to find him.

Ah, Inspector. I was just on my way down to see you.

I've a good mind to give you a caution.

I'd rather have a cup of tea. I believe now they use bags.

You were told to leave the cross with me.

Wouldn't it be best if we worked together?

You're obstructing my case!

Just been for a top-up.

On the contrary, I have been busy weighing up potential suspects.

-Calls himself Justin De Vey.

-Fancy.

Plays the country gent. Appearances can be deceptive.

-Clearly likes a drink.

-Threadbare collar. Cuffs are frayed.

So are his nerves, from the look of things.

Quite a temper. Particularly when goaded by Mr Dawson.

Devious type. Terrible limp.

So if he stole your relic, he wouldn't get far.

Assuming the limp is real.

Then there is our army chaplain, Captain Flynn.

Bound for Korea. Anxious soldier.

Maybe he's got cause to be.

We all have our crosses to bear. I'm sticking to you like glue.

Best pretend we don't know each other.

I think it's a bit late for that.

There you are. I was worried. Left alone with these two.

Not a civil word from either of them.

This compartment lacks the refinement for polite conversation.

-Now I've warned you.

-Terribly sorry, we're full up, old chap!

I'm getting off shortly.

Why don't you take my seat? I'll find a more amenable carriage.

One with some air in it.

I think you'll find that belongs to Father Brown.

So it does. Beg your pardon.

So you do know each other.

This gentleman is obviously a priest.

His name is clearly labelled on his suitcase.

The contents of your package are intriguing, Father Brown.

Perhaps we should all guess what's inside it, eh?

Perhaps you should mind your business?

< Next stop Newbury, five minutes to Newbury.

That's my stop.

Oh, come on, don't keep us all in suspense.

-Sit down.

-It's clearly a prize of considerable worth.

TRAIN WHINES AND CREAKS

I thought he was pulling a...

Stay here. And this time, do as you're told.

He could be concussed.

I think, perhaps, that one's mine.

Oh, sorry.

< Fire! The train is on fire!

I have reason to believe I may be in some danger.

Then we'd better get you off this train.

< No pushing, stay calm.

-All right, I confess, I'll come quietly.

-The priest?

-The priest? He went off with the chaplain.

-And the cross?

-What cross?

-Where is it?

-I've no idea, I swear, I've no idea!

HE COUGHS

This parcel contains a priceless holy relic.

It's Welsh gold, inlaid with sapphires.

Someone wants to steal it.

Then we should wait for the police.

No, I'd rather keep going.

The priory is less than a mile away.

Then I'll come with you, a military escort.

-I couldn't ask you to get involved.

-We met on that train for a reason.

What about your posting?

God always sends us where we're needed most.

Perhaps we should cut across the fields?

Arrive at the priory as the pilgrims would have done.

Embroiled in a race-fixing scandal.

I owe a few gangsters some money.

Then we've probably done you a favour.

Take him in.

Valentine to Control. Relay an urgent message to all units.

Be on the lookout for two persons of interest,

a priest and an army chaplain,

headed in the direction of Newbury Priory.

He won't get far on foot. Not with all that gold to weigh him down.

The priory is just beyond those trees.

You clearly value this relic of yours.

The Blue Cross was revered for its miraculous healing powers.

Miracles are enigmas of theology.

Miracles are the foundations of our faith.

You must have doubts, questions.

When our certainties are shaken,

then our true mettle is revealed.

You must think me a cynic.

I find you troubled, perhaps in need of guidance.

-A war brings out the worst in men.

-And the best in men.

The challenges of a country parish seem less

when I remember the trenches.

Don't tell me you miss it?

Camaraderie, the companionship.

The thrilling sense of one's own mortality.

Choices you make can be lonely.

Would you like your handkerchief?

Call for backup.

I had my suspicions on the train.

Then it only seems fair that you should share them.

-The criminal is the artist.

-The detective merely the critic.

North-eastern France.

You might want to catch me before you try to place me.

The troop ship carrying the Glosters sails from Southampton.

I take a keen interest in my former regiment.

It would seem I was careless.

You sponsored reason to attack theology,

something a true cleric could never do, even an Anglican.

I hoped you might have presented more of a challenge.

-Deficient in reason, perhaps.

-A celibate simpleton.

< Father Brown?

The police are seeking to catch a crook.

-I wanted to save a soul.

-< Father Brown!

Only a man in search of redemption would have warned

the victim of his imminent crime.

POLICE WHISTLES

This game is beginning to bore me.

I presume you mean pass-the-parcel?

Well, I am still in possession of a holy relic,

and you are still holding a worthless doppelganger.

A troubled thief of religious artefacts.

There are easier ways to get closer to God than that.

The cross, Priest, or it is you who will be closer to God.

Father Brown!

Father!

You'd better pray we catch him.

-What do you call this?

-Only vehicle I could find at short notice.

I'm driving.

-Allez!

-What?

Quickly.

We'll never outrun them in this heap of scrap.

Too much baggage.

You're nicked, Dawson.

Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself.

So Flambeau and Dawson were working together?

Well, even the best of thieves can use an accomplice.

The lips were a little fuller.

You see, the moustache serves to fuddle the memory.

It's a clever trick, it draws attention from the rest of the face.

The man was in disguise.

At least we've got something to go on.

I'm a laughing stock at Scotland Yard!

It's all down to you and your blessed interfering.

-Developments, sir.

-We're busy.

They said on the desk you was tied up.

Geezer with the limp.

-Mr Dawson.

-Also known as Arnold Quip.

I knew I recognised his face. Small-time chiseller.

Plenty of form.

Knee-capped during the Blitz for crossing the Bemerton brothers.

He told me he'd had polio.

Perhaps if you'd remembered this before the crime took place.

I give him information and he throws it back in my face.

-It's time we talked to Quip.

-Sir.

Assuming he's finished with the police surgeon.

I'll need a statement. Might help to clear up your mess.

Double-crossed, Mr Quip.

Where's Flambeau?

You're the detective. You tell me.

Clean away with the loot.

Left you to take the rap.

You were keeping an eye on the place, caught on the hop...

..as Father Brown set off for the station.

Alerted to the change of plan

during his night-time visit to St Mary's, Flambeau made

a mental note of the dimensions of the cross.

His clue, delivered to the presbytery, had the desired effect -

contained panic, as the church

and the police colluded to move it to safety.

Flambeau ordered Quip to intercept me.

He made sure I stepped into the right compartment.

Father.

Clever that Captain Flynn was already on the train...

..so as to avoid immediate suspicion.

In here.

The first attempted switch was carefully rehearsed.

Mr Dawson was primed to replace my parcel with Flambeau's replica.

As chance would have it, exactly the moment De Vey chose

to light his pipe.

Must you? Plays havoc with me chest.

In retrospect, his annoyance was understandable.

Best-laid plans.

Left alone in the carriage, they reverted to plan B.

My arrival was somewhat unexpected.

But it gave you the opportunity to leave the compartment.

I think you'll find that belongs to Father Brown.

So it does.

Your botched attempt to cut and run was designed

to throw us off the scent.

De Vey's interest was an unwelcome distraction.

The contents of your package are intriguing, Father Brown.

In fact, it worked to Flambeau's advantage.

-Sit down.

-Well, it's clearly a prize of considerable worth.

At a prearranged time, Quip pulls the emergency cord.

The perfect diversion.

Another attempted switch in the ensuing chaos.

I think, perhaps, that one's mine.

With the cross still safely in my possession,

Flambeau had to get me off that train.

Fire! The train is on fire!

By then, I knew he was our thief.

And so you decided to abscond together?

He switched parcels as he helped me down from the train.

I swapped them back again as we walked to the priory.

He could have taken it earlier, the moment he got me alone. You see?

Believe me, Father, I'm trying to.

There was doubt. Somewhere, there was doubt.

What exactly am I charged with?

Aiding and abetting, evading arrest, that'll do for starters.

Come to appeal to my better judgment?

It would seem he made fools of us all.

That swindling frog will get what's coming to him. You'll see.

Move.

Piece of work.

I thought, perhaps, he might have given us a lead.

Ho-ho-ho, you're having a laugh, ain't ya?

There's honour amongst thieves, Father.

Flambeau and your cross, halfway back to the continent by now.

I'll be late for confessional.

I...

Sid.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been....

..too long since my last confession.

What is it that brings you here?

I accuse myself of the following transgressions.

Whatever you tell me remains between us.

I stole a bicycle. I was 14.

I was tired of walking everywhere. I took it home and hid it,

waited for someone to punish me.

I started to ride around the village,

brazenly cycling here and there.

How could I own a bicycle?

I came from nowhere, I had nothing.

There was no-one to take me in hand.

Soon enough, they knew my name,

a certain notoriety.

I was someone to live up to.

You have stolen something that belongs to God.

Every crime presents a challenge. Wouldn't you agree?

The prize has nothing on the game itself.

Thou shalt not steal.

I know, I know. I wanted beautiful things.

Thou shalt not covet.

They bring so much lightness into the dark.

We're rather suited, priest and thief.

Drawn into the dark. Driven towards sin.

Driven?

What will it take to stop me, Father?

A few prayers?

A dozen Hail Marys?

Assign me some penance, and perhaps I'll return it.

My soul for your relic.

I cannot absolve you unless you are truly sorry.

(Then we are back where we started.)

(I am lost to you.)

(And so is your cross.)

Oh!

Just the man I wanted to see.

Just been at the police station.

And I've been on the phone to the Cardinal Archbishop.

This time, Brown, you have gone too far.

I was acting for a higher authority.

You chose to disregard my clerical instruction,

inclined to pit your wits against this religious kleptomaniac.

Your actions have bought the clergy into disrepute.

Perhaps a period of penance.

I'm removing you from your parish, effective forthwith.

You've left me no choice.

Divine retribution.

So you keep telling us.

Heaven only knows what the Father was thinking.

We were just...discussing this terrible business.

I imagine I'm the talk of the parish.

-Fish.

-It isn't Friday.

-Doesn't really matter now.

Perhaps some tea.

They're letting Quip go.

Valentine claims he ain't got nothing on him.

What would I do without holy orders?

Better start packing.

You will do no such thing. I will go and talk to the bishop.

It's a bit late for that.

We have to do something! If Father leaves the parish...

You will be pensioned off.

-Oh, and what other priest is going to employ a Polish agnostic?

-Hey!

-Not to mention a charmless spiv.

-Hey, what have I done?

You should never have encouraged him.

I could have absolved him, got back the cross, a simple choice.

Yeah, well, nothing's ever simple where Flambeau's concerned.

You're right.

There must be something else.

There has to be something else!

(Then we are back where we started.)

(I am lost to you.)

(And so is your cross.)

To catch a thief, look to the cross.

-Saint Dismas.

-The Penitent thief,

condemned alongside Christ.

-Patron saint of criminals.

-And undertakers.

Father?

"The prize has nothing on the game itself."

What exactly are we looking for?

The cross, Mrs McCarthy. Look to the cross.

Fought at Dunkirk. Never came home.

He even stole a name.

Captain Flynn.

We're missing something.

What else?

We sail tomorrow on the Santa Cruz.

Santa Cruz. Holy cross.

-Now where are we going?

-The library. Shipping notices.

If I know Quip, he'll be out after revenge, not to mention his 10%.

We keep him tailed. He'll lead us straight to Flambeau.

Oi-oi, look out.

Looks like someone else has had the same idea.

Right, I'll get on the back.

No point following Quip. I already know where he's heading.

SHIP'S HORN BLASTS

So this is the ship that Flambeau told you he was sailing on?

Flambeau and I have unfinished business.

-Wait for me by the van.

-Uh, no.

I need you to be a lookout.

And you need someone to watch your back.

You forget, I have God on my side.

Yeah, well, let's hope he pulls his weight this time.

The loss of faith is a terrible thing.

No-one is beyond redemption.

Is that what you say to your sinners?

I want to see you suffer. To see how far you've fallen.

First, you lost your cross.

Now, I have taken everything that's dear to you.

No-one can steal my faith.

The holy father, dispensing his pastoral care, all dressed in black.

Perhaps he's in mourning for the trenches?

I've seen the best and the worst of men.

Depravity even I could never sink to?

You could not even imagine.

My father was a soldier.

He fought for his country in the Great War.

Your paths may have crossed.

Ypres. Flanders.

Were you at Flanders, Father Brown?

I was in Flanders.

They shot him for desertion.

Firing squad.

I never knew him. I missed his moral guidance.

Whatever you have done, whatever has been done to you...

Do you think they prayed for my father's soul?

There were masses. Requiems for the fallen.

Even those who fell running away?

Deserters were punished.

It was never the church's place to intervene.

Then whose place was it? Hm?

I was 17.

I wasn't a priest. I was barely a man.

Your church could have stopped them.

Perhaps.

-Yes.

-The church you chose to serve,

your divine institution,

They could have stopped them from killing my father,

even if he was a coward.

They could have stopped me from this.

And you talk to me about guilt.

To come here alone was very brave.

Or very stupid.

Quip is being tailed by the police.

Quip is on his way here.

I gather he gave them the slip.

You can give him the viaticum before I give him the bullet.

For the love of God, just do as he tells you.

Such a Philistine. Absolve me now...

..or I send him to hell to wait for me.

HE SOBS

Without remorse, these are empty words.

God, the Father of mercies,

through the death and resurrection of His Son...

The short version.

Au nom du pere, say it!

Police!

WHISTLE BLOWS

WHISTLE BLOWS

Throw down your weapon. There's nowhere to run!

You'll never catch him alive.

Hold your fire!

You want to end this.

Glorious failure? How very English.

Step out of my line of sight, Father.

You could call it checkmate.

Echec et mat? That would make you the winner.

Your accent. Champagne-Ardenne.

But of course. Where else?

You want your cross?

Don't let him get away. Stop him!

No, stop.

GUNSHOTS

Enough!

We must have got him.

You'll find Mr Quip in the warehouse.

You need to see a doctor.

-I want divers out here now.

-Sir.

-And get me some more lights!

-Sir.

-Well caught.

-You know me, nifty fingers.

It's over, Father. Just let him go.

Au nom de Dieu, et du Fils et du Saint Esprit...

..I absolve you.

Ahem.

I was hoping I'd find you here.

I've been speaking to Cardinal Griffin.

High praise for your exploits in the retrieving of the holy relic.

He asked me to extend his personal thanks.

He did?

I explained to him that you were one of my most...

tenacious priests.

Our conversation yesterday...

..we'll say no more about it,

though any further lapses in the liturgy will not be tolerated.

Absolutely.

And do sort yourself out, Brown.

You look as if you've been in bar brawl.

French, these nylons. Bought them off a sailor.

Itchy stockings with big French holes in it.

Oh, well, this is the thanks I get? Ha!

Father, you have telegram. It's on the mirror.

A woman should buy her own hosiery,

unless, of course, she wants to look like a slattern.

Donec obvium iterum.

(Donec obvium iterum.)

Until we meet again.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd