The Deadly Seal Father Brown

And on Thursday, I took the Lord's name in vain when I got a splinter.

I am sorry for this and all of my sins.

Ego te absolve a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii et...

One more thing.

By 11 in the morning tomorrow, Bishop Talbot will be shot dead.

How do you know this?

Oh, there you are, Father.

The bishop's office has just telephoned.

Bishop Talbot won't be coming to deliver the Corpus Christi homily tomorrow after all.

Would you believe it? He's off shooting birds.

Shooting?!

Bentley Duke has invited me to go shooting on his estate.

Bentley Duke? What, the theatrical impresario?

But, My Lord, you loathe the theatre.

Yeah, well, I do.

However, Duke has offered to fund

all the repairs to the tower at St George.

Ah...

Unexpected?

He has a house nearby.

Says he finds St George...

inspirational.

Well, I would love to use his ill-gotten gains for better use.

So, tomorrow, God willing, we shall seal the deal.

Will you be alone together?

No.

There'll be other heathens of the theatre world.

And dear Lady Felicia,

thank goodness.

My Lord, I wonder if you might rearrange your meeting with Mr Duke?

Why on earth should I do that?

I may not have told you before how much my congregation look forward to your homily on Corpus Christi.

Well, tell me now.

Well, for many of them,

it is simply the highlight of the church calendar.

Oh, I see.

Well, being stuck with your tedious witterings all year round,

I'm not surprised.

But that's still no reason for putting the whole future of St George in jeopardy.

But, My Lord, shooting?

It's like golf.

It livens up a good country walk.

Yes, but, with respect, My Lord,

golf does not involve the slaughter of God's creatures.

Controlling the bird population doesn't trouble the Vatican, Brown.

As you well know.

But, My Lord, why not meet Mr Duke after your homily at St Mary's?

Or at the theatre?

Are you all right, Brown?

Perfectly well.

In that case, get out of my way.

I have a course record to beat.

Bah! Eh?

I'm so thrilled you could join us, Bish.

I only hope I don't embarrass myself, Mr Duke.

Isn't life full of surprises?

I always assumed you devil dodgers disapproved of cold-blooded killing.

And then two of you sign up for this.

Two?

Your colleague.

I'm very grateful to you for organising this.

Grateful enough to tell me what you're up to?

As you know, I will always drop everything to support the bishop.

Mm-hm.

Well, it's my goddaughter Natasha you have to thank.

That's her, talking to Bentley Duke.

She got me on the list, too.

She seems to have Bentley wrapped round her finger.

So, why are you here?

To meet Bentley Duke. I loved acting.

I was in all the school productions.

So, you want to talk to him about the theatre?

No. I want a part in one of his productions.

-My Lord.

-What in the devil's name is the meaning of this?

Well...it's a peculiar quirk of fate.

Lady Felicia insisted I accompany her.

Didn't you, Lady Felicia?

If you do anything to jeopardise my discussion with Mr Duke,

I shall have you strung from the crypt at St George

with a shotgun up your...

-Darling Felicia!

-Oh!

Hello! I'm Natasha.

Father Brown.

I am indebted to you.

Don't be silly.

Any friend of my wonderful godmother is a friend of mine.

Natasha has the lead role in Room For Three? at Cheltenham Rep.

A new play?

Yes. It's rather naughty.

Then I shall be booking tickets immediately.

Felicia said you were fun!

Natasha, you unforgivable liar!

You told me you were bringing your godmother, not your sister!

Oh, Bentley!

Bentley Duke.

-Lady Felicia Montague.

-Delighted.

And you must be this spectacular girl's, what, grandfather?

Ah!

Father Brown.

I'm very grateful that you could accommodate me today.

What Natasha wants, Natasha gets.

I must say, though, your boss looked less than thrilled to see you.

Yes, I remind him of the paperwork left on his desk.

So, the Cotswolds have enticed you out of London?

When London bites, I come out to the country to lick my wounds.

Your murder weapon.

No. Thank you.

Oh...

Oh, dear.

Natasha, darling, I need you to check whether my barrel is straight enough.

The Lord Chamberlain, the theatre censor,

banned Bentley's last production from the West End.

Decided it was too racy. Bentley lost thousands.

Who's that?

Peter Redhill.

Oh, yes.

He acts, he directs and he's a bit of a dish.

-Isn't he married to a member of the royal family?

-Yes.

Which is why his affair with Natasha was the talk of the press.

Not the press I read, evidently.

Fascinating...

WHISTLE

HOUNDS BARK

SHOTGUN FIRE

Got it!

LAUGHS RAUCOUSLY

-I've got some catching up to do.

-I wasn't aware it was a competition.

Closer.

Oh, dear...

So, Bishop Talbot, do you think adulterers should be treated like murderers?

I think marriage is sacred, Mr Redhill.

-Well, that is not quite the same thing.

-Peter...

You said in The Times, and I quote,

that "we should treat the ending of a marriage as seriously as the death of a person."

I did indeed.

And then you singled me out for destroying my marriage.

The newspapers singled you out when they put pictures of you

-cavorting with your mistress on their front pages!

-So, I am a murderer.

Well, don't we execute murderers in this country?

Go on, then. Shoot me!

Does the drinking help you with your aim, Mr Redhill?

Do you find being a righteous prig helps you sleep at night, Bishop?

Who's this, your lapdog?

Sober up you, fool.

There's only one fool here, Bentley.

Good work, Davies.

Thank you, My Lord.

WHISTLE

Drive over. Follow me.

Is the next drive far, Mr Duke?

Just over here.

Oh, pooh drops!

Is it entirely safe shooting here?

No. But as the London critics love to point out,

I do have something of a reckless streak.

Mr Duke... We should talk about the tower at St George.

-Privately.

-Oh, absolutely.

But, first, call of nature and all that.

Of course.

-Awful man.

-My Lord...

Oh, do run along, Brown!

Have you gone deaf, Brown?

My Lord, you need to leave now.

-Please.

-Have you gone utterly mad, Brown?

-Down!

-What on earth...?!

My Lord?

I've been shot.

Where is the pain?

No pain.

Just numbness...

Ah, Inspector Sullivan. Did anyone see the sniper?

No.

But the offending cartridge tells me it was someone in this shooting party.

Problem is, you were all separated at the time.

How long was the deceased in your service?

Who, Davies?

Five years. Ten, maybe.

It seems he had an altercation with Mr Redhill shortly before his death.

Yes.

Regular theatre-goer, was he?

Davies?

Never set foot in the theatre.

Right.

Inspector Sullivan...

Forgive me, surely the shot was meant for me?

You? I don't think so.

Father Brown said he saw the gun fired from over there,

along with this cartridge still smoking.

The gunman, or woman, would have to have been virtually blind

to have missed you by that margin.

Davies was the target.

No, but...

-Brown!

-My Lord?

Moments before the shot, Father Brown told me I had to leave.

He was certain I was in trouble. Weren't you, Brown?

Is this true, Brown?

Well?

I haven't got time for this.

Mr Redhill...

Where's your tongue, man?

Please, forgive me, My Lord.

CHURCH BELL TOLLS

He didn't set the world alight, my husband.

But he was a good man.

Honest.

Loyal.

God will hold your hand through this, Ethel.

Thank you, Father.

Can you manage, financially?

I've been prudent all my life.

Done extra work. Put money aside.

No, it's the loneliness I'm worried about.

Albert wasn't a talker.

But he did just sit and listen.

Landlord at the old Red Lion's going to miss him, an' all.

Albert was a teetotaller when I tied the knot for him and Ethel.

Well, that's marriage for you!

So, who's the killer, then?

Well, assuming it's a member of the shooting party,

I think we can eliminate Lady Felicia from the suspect list.

Not really her style.

Which means it must be one of "the theatre heathen".

You want to sit in on rehearsals?

Well, I wish to follow your lead, Mr Duke,

in building a bridge between the church and the theatre.

What bridge have I ever built with you lot?

By offering to fund the rebuilding of St George's.

Your boss was never going to see a penny.

-I got him on that shoot purely for sport.

-Sport?

To wind up Peter Redhill. Our very own lapsed Catholic boy.

Reminds me. I must ring your boss to tell him that, sadly, the deal's off.

Do you have a grudge against Bishop Talbot?

He peddles hypocrisy and lies. You all do.

While theatre is all about the truth.

We reflect reality.

You disguise and distort it.

Thank you for dropping by.

I was very sorry to hear about your recent West End show being closed.

Yes, I'm sure you were.

I read the script of A Rather Private Affair

and found it very enjoyable.

The scene where the priest confesses

his infatuation to the mother-in-law

was very amusing.

So, this is why the bishop calls you his "blackest sheep".

What would he say if he knew you were here with me now?

I imagine he would disapprove.

Strongly.

In fact...

..he would be furious.

Would he, now?

It's lovely. But I think you can make her even more arch here.

Sorry to interrupt, Peter.

Our friend Father Brown's going to be popping in and out of rehearsals from time to time.

Hope that's all right.

What?

I promise I will be as quiet as the proverbial church mouse, Mr Redhill.

Aren't you having enough fun at my expense?

-Don't be so paranoid. I'm doing you a favour.

-A favour?

Your friend the bishop will be livid.

Almost as livid as you must have been when you missed him from five yards.

How dare you!

Right. Let's run that last sequence again.

You are a marvel, Father.

Lady Felicia! Don't tell me Bentley Duke's given you a part already?

-No. But he's very keen to see my passion.

-I'm sure he is.

So, I've offered to help out with some fundraising.

I've no need to ask why you're here.

Natasha's not involved, is she?

I think it is the work of a man.

Thank goodness for that.

Oh, gosh, I hope it wasn't Peter.

Where would you like to go from, Peter?

We've just left scene two and go to where...

So...

Room For Three?

Yes.

It's a frightfully funny play.

You see, Peter's character is unhappily married

to this awful woman.

And they go away to this hotel on a golfing holiday

where Peter meets Natasha, who's staying in the next room.

And then the two of them, well, you know...

-Get on?

-Exactly.

But, then, Peter hurts his back playing golf and is bedbound.

So then, it's all about doors opening and doors closing

and whether his wife will find out and catch them at it.

Take your time!

I heard every word. She's awful!

What it's really about is whether Peter and Natasha love each other

or if it's all just a bit of fun.

I see...

A most unfortunate sequence of events.

It all began with a watering can.

How dreadful!

Listen, we've got 43 minutes before she's back from lunch.

My wife is nothing if not a creature of habit.

Oh, darling!

You imagining your first performance, perchance?

I am.

Your goddaughter is a natural.

Isn't she?

It's so good to catch up.

We used to see so much of each other.

She'd come up nearly every holidays, until she was about 14.

She had a family in the area.

Oh? Who?

Just an uncle, actually.

Winston Grater.

Winston... Yes. Moved to Cirencester.

-You knew him?

-A regular at St Mary's.

I still get a Christmas card.

What?

Lady Felicia?

Well, you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to.

That man did vile...

vile things to her.

You understand?

She was just a girl.

It was so awful.

I mean, she did tell her parents. They didn't believe her.

Didn't believe who?

Inspector Sullivan.

I might have known you'd have wormed your way in here, Father.

Are you here to buy tickets for the performance, Inspector?

No. I have some more questions for Peter Redhill.

He's at lunch. And rehearsals don't begin again until half-past three.

Right.

Have you established a deeper link between Mr Redhill and the bishop?

If I have, rest assured, you'll be the last to hear, Father.

Because, if Mr Redhill wanted to kill anyone in the woods,

it would have been Bentley Duke.

Why is that?

Because the love of his life is now in Mr Duke's arms.

I'm sure that's no news to you, Inspector.

A sensible career move on her part, I'm sure.

Oh, Bishop Talbot is looking for you.

He's been insisting that he was the real target.

You jumping on him must have unhinged him.

It certainly would have unhinged me.

I was baffled by your behaviour in the woods.

But, suddenly, this morning I understood.

You heard in confessional that I was to be shot.

Am I right?

Well, the seal is...sacrosanct.

However, you were prepared to act according to what you heard.

And for that, of course, I am grateful.

But my would-be assassin is still at large.

And because Inspector Sullivan doesn't seem interested,

I'm sure the good Lord, in all His wisdom,

would forgive you if...

..you dropped a hint who it is.

Brown...

I couldn't help noticing that you have a collection

of stage play manuscripts.

Don't Kiss Me, I'm From Surrey.

This was banned for blasphemy.

-How did you get it?

-Brown, this is highly important.

Banned.

Banned.

Highly controversial.

Banned.

I had no idea, My Lord, that you had an interest in the theatre.

Oh, the Lord Chamberlain and I are old friends.

He sends me all the latest play texts.

May I ask why?

He values my opinion.

Now, look, could we get back to the matter in hand?

Who was it, Brown?

Would you mind if I borrowed Don't Kiss Me, I'm From Surrey?

I'm very keen to read it.

Would you mind?

Peter Redhill might well have had reason to kill the bishop.

But he's a crack shot. Even when drunk, he wouldn't have missed.

Bentley Duke, on the other hand, is so wayward,

he could have missed the bishop, even from that range.

But why would Bentley Duke have wanted to kill the bishop?

Don't tell me you're stuck, Father.

I am.

Yes.

I am stuck.

Go back to the scene of the crime.

I do so regularly, in my mind.

And on every occasion I return empty-handed.

You know, some people say I have my head in the clouds.

I wouldn't dare comment on your personality.

Your calves, on the other hand...

Darling...!

There you are!

The scene of the crime...

-Of course!

-What?

Never has the phrase been more apt.

-It was a scene...

-Was it?

I was assigned a role.

My character was there to distract from what was really happening.

Inspector Sullivan was right.

Davies was the intended target.

-Sid...

-Mm-hm?

I need you to go to the pub.

Right. Any in particular?

Red Lion.

I need you to talk to Davies' old drinking chums.

Find out if it really was marriage that drove him to drink.

What about Lady F?

You have her blessing.

Oh...

It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it.

-You want protection?

-Yes.

I thought having someone covering your back, so to speak, was a perk of the job.

Inspector, this is a serious matter.

The person who tried to kill me in those woods will try again.

I am convinced.

Look, as I've already advised,

you shouldn't read anything into what Father Brown says or does.

This has nothing to do with Father Brown any more.

This morning, I received a phone call which has convinced me someone in those woods wanted me dead!

All right, it wasn't marriage that drove Davies to drink.

It was gambling debts.

Our little Davies was an active member

of the Kembleford underground horse-betting fraternity.

Which is not an easy thing to say on five pints of Stoat's Tipple, I can tell you that.

A week before he died,

Davies put a small fortune on a dead cert at Kempton.

But guess what? It fell at the first.

But here's the thing. Davies was completely skint.

Everybody knew it.

-So, where did he get the money for the bet?

-Ah-ha...

Your embroideries are wonderful.

It's just a hobby.

You should never play down your passions.

That was Albert's favourite.

I made that for our silver wedding anniversary.

-Have you ever considered selling any of these?

-No!

Who'd want any of those things?

Plenty of people.

And they'd pay a pretty penny, I'm sure.

I might buy one myself.

You don't say!

What am I saying, how rude of me? These are deeply personal.

And it's not as if you need the money, what with all your savings.

Well, if there's one that takes your fancy, Father,

I might be open to persuasion.

No, Ethel. I was wrong to suggest it.

The thing is...

..I do need the money.

Why? What happened?

Now, there's a man on a mission.

I recognised the bicycle. A visit of compassion?

One does what one can.

See, I had a shilling bet with Goodfellow that you were really here

because you'd found out about Davies stealing all Ethel's savings.

I bet another shilling that, having spoken to Ethel,

you'd head straight for Laceman's Sewing Factory to check her alibi.

Might she have sneaked into the woods, stolen a cartridge

and shot her husband?

Er-hum...

Let me save you a journey, Father.

12 women at the sewing factory gave me sworn statements

that Ethel never left her machine that morning.

She didn't do it.

I see.

Oh, if it's any consolation,

I've spent most of this investigation down a blind alley myself.

You see, I really thought Davies was the intended victim.

But now, thanks to your bishop, I'm back on track.

All right, Sergeant, now we've got our motive,

let's go and get our man.

We should be just in time for the final dress rehearsal.

Tally-ho!

Revenge? For what?

For Bishop Talbot wiping out a large chunk of your fortune.

Well, go on, then, Inspector.

I warn you, though, spotting holes in stories is how I made my fortune.

The Lord Chamberlain closed down your recent West End production,

A Rather Private Affair,

after just two performances.

It was sold out for five months

and you lost £10,000.

It must have been hilarious.

The show, I mean.

This isn't news, Inspector.

Bishop Talbot advises the Lord Chamberlain what plays to ban.

That's not news either, is it?

Well, it is, actually.

Well, all right, you probably only found that out

after you'd put your insider into the Lord Chamberlain's office.

I'd suggest you spend less time on farces

and study a thriller or two, Mr Duke.

Learn to cover your tracks.

Telephoning Bishop Talbot yesterday and mocking him,

that was a bit of a clue.

What is all this?

Your insider found out about Bishop Talbot

persuading the Lord Chamberlain to pull your show.

And that is why you wanted revenge.

You spun the lie about paying for St George

to lure Talbot into the woods.

And you would have killed him as planned,

had it not been for your terrible aim.

-This is absurd.

-Is it?

Look, all right...

I found out about that Bible-thumping idiot trying to shaft me.

I wanted revenge. But shooting him?

Inspector, in my career, I've made real enemies, proper enemies,

men I have genuinely wanted dead.

Do you think I would risk the noose for a paper bag like the bishop?

Um, Lady Felicia...

Yes?

Er, Mrs McCarthy, Sid and I are about to take our seats.

Of course.

But Natasha's lost her scarf. It's complete chaos back here.

Why couldn't the Inspector have waited until after first night to have arrested Bentley?

-Can I help?

-Yes.

Ah! Found it!

ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen, act one beginners, please.

Miss Ferango, Mr Redhill...

Where have you been?

Oh, my goodness! I thought this was my door.

I'm so sorry!

It's quite all right. Connecting rooms, eh?

I'll...

Sorry. Can I just say, I think you have a smashing set of clubs.

LAUGHTER

Thank you.

Actually, my coach tells me I have a wonderful grip too.

I'm sure your all-round stroke play is excellent.

What's your handicap?

I have a weakness for chocolate. And married men.

I see...

Would you care for some Black Forest gateau? My wife made it.

LAUGHTER

APPLAUSE

Oh, poor Harry! Is the pain still unbearable?

I'm afraid so. Though there are moments when it's merely relentless.

LAUGHTER

Oh, darling...

Harry?

My wife! For the first time in her life, she's back early!

LAUGHTER

KNOCKING

Harry!

Go!

LAUGHTER

-The cleaner must have locked it!

-What?!

KNOCKING

Harry! Open the door!

KNOCKING

Madam, this is the hotel's rodent control squad.

We've had reports of rats in the room.

Please, bear with us.

Madame...?

She's gone!

Oh, darling...

You're a genius!

APPLAUSE

Well, cheers! Cheers!

Well done. Absolutely brilliant performance.

I particularly loved the first half.

Oh, thank you so much.

Convincing performance.

Thank you.

In the confessional, I mean.

Why did you kill Davies?

And why did you warn me of your plan?

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Father...

Peter wants us both to join him in the bar for a celebratory glass.

Or three.

I may be persuaded.

Oh, marvellous.

But, on the other hand...

..I may need to save my stamina.

-Early-morning mass.

-Shame.

Glowing reviews, I'm sure.

Er, the door was open.

Is hiding in a lady's dressing room normal behaviour for a priest?

You played a nun masquerading as a plantation owner.

Sure you were very good.

But there is another detail in the credits which interests me.

Temporary wardrobe mistress,

Ethel Davies.

I imagine that a leading lady

has to trust her wardrobe mistress absolutely.

After all, she makes you look the part.

And although she was with you for...

A few weeks?

..I imagine you got very close.

So close that you shared your deepest, darkest secrets.

Which is how you found out that she was also...

..cruelly betrayed by a man.

Natasha...

you killed Davies.

But I believe you acted out of empathy.

Can I trust you, Father?

Yes.

Can you take my confession here?

Yes.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It has been four days since my last confession.

My uncle...

..he took away from me everything I had...

..everything I believed.

Coming back, after all these years, I felt it all again.

The anger.

When Ethel told me what her husband had done...

..how he had not just stolen her money,

but every drop of love from her heart...

..I had to ease her pain.

But I have regretted it every minute since.

I thought it would help me...

..bury a demon.

I now have a new demon.

Why did you warn me of your plans?

I hoped you would throw the police off the scent.

By making it seem that the bishop was the target?

Yes.

But you knew that I could tell nobody about what you told me.

I believed you would find a way.

Oh, Father, I have been such a fool.

You can still gain God's forgiveness.

But He will only forgive if He knows that you are truly repentant.

I want this torment to end.

Then you must take responsibility for your crime.

I'll be hanged...

If you go to the police yourself,

then I believe the church will be lenient.

But if they come to you...

Natasha, you must do the right thing.

Peter's worried sick Natasha isn't going to be back for the matinee.

I fear she may be gone longer than that.

But Natasha doesn't have an understudy.

She never, ever misses a performance.

Father...

Inspector.

Natasha's just given us a sworn statement.

I see.

She claims that you told her who killed Davies.

Then she has fooled me a second time.

Is she right? That Bentley confessed to you?

Father Brown, is Bentley Duke the killer or not?

Right...

You leave me no alternative

but to continue this conversation at the station.

Get in the car, please.

WHISTLE

TANNOY: The train departing from platform two is the 12.50,

calling at all stations to Cirencester.

I think you're right, Inspector.

I think Davies was the intended target.

According to Natasha, Bentley Duke confessed the murder to you.

And you sat on that while he roamed free and Ethel Davies grieved.

I had no idea Bentley Duke was a Catholic.

Your precious seal of the confessional is a disgrace!

Nothing more than a licence for criminals

to feel good about their crimes and escape justice!

And yet you think I broke the seal of the confessional...

..to Natasha?

So, you're calling Natasha a liar?

Bentley Duke could have gone back to the bishop and finished the job.

Would you have been happy having a second murder on your conscience?

Two murders...

Yes! That's it!

What is?

The two hands... It's a pact!

It's a way of disguising motive.

That's simple...

That's so, so clever.

12.50 to Cirencester...

Inspector, there's another murder about to be committed in an hour.

We need to stop it.

This won't work, Father.

If we take your fastest car...

I mean, distracting me with this nonsense.

But we need to leave now!

Sorry, sir. The Superintendent's on the telephone.

Sit down!

You're not going anywhere.

Lady Felicia, could your motorcar beat a railway train?

Let's find out.

Cirencester, please, Sid.

Can we stop here, please, Sid?

Thank you.

Ethel!

Leave me be, Father.

Ethel, I know about your pact with Natasha.

Father Brown?

Go back in the house, please, Winston.

-What's all this about?

-Just do as I say.

Go back into the house.

What in the devil's name is going on here?

Get inside. Before this woman kills you.

Let her try.

Ethel!

I'm a woman of my word, Father.

Natasha's done her bit for me.

Natasha?

You ruined that poor girl's life.

You wretched, evil man. You'll rot in hell!

Dear God...!

Ethel, I know how angry you must feel,

but two wrongs do not make a right.

I must not let her down.

Father, please...!

Revenge is mine.

I will repay, sayeth the Lord.

Be not overcome by evil...

..but overcome evil by good.

Oh, Natasha...

Forgive me!

I'm calling the police!

Well, if you think that's right.

She needs locking up!

Probably.

But then, we all do things we regret later...

..don't we...

..Winston?

HUMS

You know, some people say I have my head in the clouds.

Hmmmm....

Ethel has chosen not to kill your uncle

and has handed herself in.

How dare you interfere!

-Where are you going?

-To kill him myself!

Ethel cannot protect you for long.

She's not an actress.

So I can't afford to waste time talking to you.

The police will go to your uncle's. They will find you.

And then what?

Why did you tell me you were planning to kill Bishop Talbot?

Because you were my uncle's excuse.

God was forgiving him in that confessional box, through you.

That's what he told me.

You knew exactly what he was doing, yet you did nothing to help.

So I set you a trap.

Of course.

What would you do if you heard that your precious boss was in danger?

Answer?

Risk your life saving him, where you had abandoned me to evil.

You are the greatest hypocrite of them all, Father Brown.

I came this close to shooting you in those woods.

And to hide my hatred from you has been the greatest acting challenge of my life.

I understand.

You won't deny my uncle confessed to you?

I cannot say anything.

And you understand why.

He didn't confess.

Father, I will take your silence to mean that my uncle lied to me.

He did not tell you what he was doing.

You did not sit by while evil was committed.

Then I have misjudged you. I am sorry.

Good.

You can still receive God's forgiveness.

Do you want your uncle punished?

With all my heart.

Then go to the police and tell them everything.

Mr Duke...

Felicia. Peter.

-Good to have you back.

-Yes.

Pair of liars.

You'd much rather Natasha was here and I was rotting away in a cell.

Don't look so glum. I'm thrilled to be back!

Even if it is to close the show.

Mr Duke...

I wonder if you would consider me,

in Natasha's place?

Well, that's very sporting of you.

I mean, in the play.

Oh...

Really?

I know her lines. I know where she stands.

Well, yes, I'm a couple of years older than her,

but if you and Peter will just give me the chance

to show what I could do.

-Act one, scene four?

-Fine.

All right, when you're ready, my dear.

Is that...?

Must have been a tough decision for them.

Very difficult.

-Are you all right, Lady Felicia?

-No.

Brown!

The delightful Mrs McCarthy insisted I'd find you here.

Word?

Have they got the right person this time?

-The right person?

-Well, the actress. Is she my assassin?

Well, just nod. Or shake your head. Do something.

What do you want?

A new set of hymn books?

A television in the presbytery?

Tell me!

I would never be able to look you in the eye again, My Lord.

You confounded man!