The Crackpot of the Empire Father Brown

CHURCH BELL RINGS

Uncle Mirth, wait!

They're here to help you.

-Uncle Mirth. Please stop!

-They've got me!

-Don't hurt him.

Get off!

-How could you?

-I'm so sorry, but you need help.

Judas! I'll see you rot in hell for this!

Are you sure you can manage that?

I'm not completely useless.

Well, if you say so.

Father Brown...

It's from Uncle Mirth.

He's been released.

So he's finally regained his sanity.

And hopefully forgiven me.

He's invited me to his welcome home party.

Well, after last time, I'd stay well away.

He's absolutely barking.

Always insisting on people calling him Uncle Mirth.

Well, that's just his old stage name.

Sorry, Mrs McCarthy.

Not terribly hungry.

-What's the matter with you?

-Guilt.

About the part he played in having Uncle Mirth committed.

They were very close.

-Father Brown, you old bloodhound...

-Henry!

-How are you?

-Oh, touch of gout,

kidney stones, pickled liver, dodgy ticker.

But apart from that, a picture of health!

-Hello, hello, hello. Who's this?

-Lady Felicia Montague.

Uncle Mirth's brother.

Ah. I hope your sense of humour isn't as dark as his.

Well, I did write his signature song.

# I'm loony, hooky, kooky, loopy,

# I'm a crackpot

-BOTH:

-# Of the Empire! #

Marvellous. I always found his ventriloquist's dummy rather creepy.

Ooh! Me too.

Looks like we're going to the same party, Father.

Snap!

Yes...

Surely you're not going to the party?

Why not?

Well, after all that's happened...

it just wouldn't be right.

History.

The best brother won.

You chose me.

But Uncle Mirth may still be very fragile.

How many more times?

His name's Julius.

Sorry.

But since his breakdown, he hasn't seen us together.

You just want to rub his nose in it.

Well,

I won't be a part of it.

-Pack a bag.

-Mortimer...

It's not a request.

I want you with me.

We leave in ten minutes, darling.

Despite my initial doubts,

I think putting him in that place was what he needed.

He was completely burnt out.

Did you visit him often?

-Oh. Most days.

-Your other brother?

-Mortimer.

-Sir Mortimer now.

-Oh!

Never set foot in the place.

Uncle Mirth mentioned an older sister.

Left when we were children, abroad somewhere.

No, I was the only family to visit.

Oh, almost forgot.

A proper drink, Father?

A bit early, even for me.

Never too early.

Never too late.

Port is bottled poetry.

After my first visit, he wouldn't see me.

-Well, in the last few weeks, he did mention you.

-Did he?

Said he was sorry for upsetting you.

And that you did the right thing.

CLAXON

Sorry, honey, did I startle you?

You could've killed me.

It's Jacob, isn't it?

You interviewed me for Uncle Mirth's biography.

You're the radio producer.

So you're going to his party too?

Yeah.

Well, park your seat. I'll give you a ride.

So, how's the biography going?

I'm hoping to pick it up again now that he's out.

Don't hold your breath.

You do know his mother and sister both had...problems.

How did you know that?

Oh, men always tell me everything. Can't think why.

Sorry about the bare feet. Can't drive in heels.

-See you at the party, Father.

-Bye, Henry.

# I'm a crackpot of the Empire

# Mad as a hatter!

# I'm loony, hooky, kooky, loopy... #

Oh, hello again.

# I'm a crackpot of the Empire... #

Thank you so much(!)

HE LAUGHS

Help! Someone!

HE GASPS

Are you all right?

SHE SCREAMS

With all his millions, he buys a dump like this?

Last time I interviewed him,

he said he wanted to build a centre for music hall memorabilia.

Sorry, thought you needed a helping hand.

Maybe he'll finish it now he's back.

DISTANT, EXAGGERATED LAUGHING

-What's that?

-Uncle Mirth?

EXAGGERATED LAUGHING CONTINUES

In the pocket.

EXAGGERATED LAUGHING

Looks like Uncle Mirth's been playing a joke on us.

It's addressed to someone called Father Brown.

He was very jolly when he left.

Lady Felicia said he was holding his chest and struggling to breathe

when he collapsed.

Henry wasn't in the best of shape.

And a big drinker.

So, "Fat alcoholic dies of natural causes."

Nice!

And...simple.

Just the way I like it. Sergeant!

Father, are you all right?

Yes.

-Poor Henry.

-You're upset.

Now, maybe going to that party is not such a good idea.

I need to tell Uncle Mirth about his brother.

Well, if that's the case, I'm going with you. Moral support.

Thank you.

All the doors are locked. We can't get inside.

Oh, you stupid woman!

-My camera's in there.

-Sorry.

-Father Brown, my dear chap.

-Sir Mortimer.

-Good to see you.

Mrs McCarthy.

I'm afraid neither of my brothers have made an appearance.

Unfortunately, I have bad news for you.

Your brother Henry died this morning.

A suspected heart attack.

-What?!

-I'm so sorry.

Damn fool!

I told him to stop drinking.

He's at the Kembleford cottage hospital.

Are you all right?

Fine.

I'm just glad you're here.

Father Brown. This is for you.

I found it over there.

Well, what is it?

It's a death certificate.

With my name on it.

Sir!

He must have picked these up this morning.

They should promote you to detective.

Bill, bill...

What's this?

A death certificate?

With Henry's name on it.

"Cause of death, poison."

Not looking so much like a heart attack anymore.

What? A death certificate?

Father, we should leave here immediately.

-Oh, don't be such a silly old woman.

-I beg your pardon?

I don't think you should speak to a lady like that.

Steady, tiger.

All I'm saying is that it's typical Julius,

playing jokes on his family and friends.

I'm not so sure.

He's always had a warped sense of humour.

He'll pop up in a minute.

Laughing at us all.

Father.

Do you really think it's from Uncle Mirth?

Why would he do this?

It's clear he's as mad as ever he was.

And he still bears you a grudge.

Remember...

I had to tell them where you were hiding.

When you had a breakdown,

I thought you might do something terrible to yourself.

Are you sure you want to stay?

Yes.

I owe it to Uncle Mirth...

..to try and help him.

-SIR MORTIMER:

-Another one!

Another one. What did I tell you?

My brother is as nutty as a fruitcake.

Where did you find it?

-I found it on the bottom step.

-Didn't you find the other one too?

What are you saying? That I'm somehow in on Uncle Mirth's joke?

No. Sorry.

That door's open.

I've had enough of playing silly beggars...

-Excuse me!

-Maybe we shouldn't go up...

Julius!

Are you up there?

Well, he's bound to be up here somewhere.

-He's not in there.

-He must be here somewhere.

Julius!

Come out, you bloody fool!

Always loved hide and seek. Something about dark corners.

Uncle Mirth?

His name's Julius.

If you ever need to chat about Henry...

Oh, thank you, Father.

If I'm honest, we were never close.

Perhaps he got a death certificate too.

Look, there's nothing sinister about all of this.

Julius once had an obituary printed in the paper,

telling everyone he'd died.

-I remember that.

-It's all about craving attention.

Creating an audience.

-JACOB:

-Over here!

It's been locked!

-Did you see anyone?

-No.

Why did you even try the door?

I just came round the corridor and saw it was closed.

So, you're accusing him now? What is it with you?

I'm just trying to make sense of it all.

Here, let me try.

It won't budge.

-There must be another way out.

-We need to search all the rooms.

This is looking less and less like an Uncle Mirth joke.

-I do not like this one little bit.

-No.

Father Brown, look.

And greetings to you, Mr Kafka.

Don't suppose you know the way out of here, do you?

One of Uncle Mirth's hilarious pranks, no doubt.

Do you know? I have always wondered how these things work.

Me too.

Ow!

-Are you all right?

-Oh, it's...it's nothing.

There are needles, just inside the opening.

Meant for me, no doubt.

I've been to the end of the corridor.

There's no second stairway.

So, how do you know my brother?

He agreed to be in a radio show I produced.

We became quite close.

Close?

Is that how you normally secure your bookings?

Actually, it is.

I've slept with so many men, I've lost count.

Dozens and dozens.

You see, I'm just not fussy.

But I wouldn't go near a pig like you.

-Do you miss him?

-What?

-Uncle Mirth.

-Why would you say that?

I did a lot of interviews with him.

-He always spoke about you.

-Did he?

The love of his life...

..who left him for his brother.

Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm...

-I'm always saying the wrong things.

-It's all right.

He was convinced you still loved him.

I just couldn't take any more, his moods.

One minute up, the next...

He was always close to breaking.

Why Sir Mortimer?

It won't be for much longer.

FOOTSTEPS

-Any luck?

-Ah, afraid not.

Looks like Uncle Mirth wants us to watch something.

Sir Mortimer, Eve...

What is it?

A film?

-This is becoming absurd.

-Shh!

# I'm a crackpot of the Empire

# Mad as a hatter

# I'm loony, hooky, loopy, kooky!

# I'm a crackpot of the Empire. #

Well, thank you for attending my welcome home party.

The only thought that kept me going in that madhouse

was the thought of taking my revenge on the people that put me in there.

My two brothers and my friend, Father Brown.

Mm!

I assume my brother Henry didn't make it this far.

Pathetic alcoholic, he was always going to be the easiest to kill.

A bottle of poison-laced port sent to him will doubtless do the trick.

My other brother, Sir Mortimer.

You will die from your own selfishness.

And Father Brown...

You will be killed by your own curiosity.

If all does not go to plan, well,

you will all fall to your death anyway.

This building has been condemned

and the ground will soon give way beneath you.

-We're all going to die!

-Shut up.

But it's true. We're trapped.

May I remind you that we all entered via a fire escape.

-So, there is another way out.

-He's right.

We need to slowly and calmly search again.

We've looked everywhere!

Will you just button it?

Check behind furniture for anything hidden.

I didn't want to believe it was him.

It will be all right, won't it, Father?

Of course.

Update on the dead bloke?

Lady Felicia said Henry's brother is throwing a party up at the old mill.

Goes by the name of Uncle Mirth.

Uncle Mirth? You having a laugh?

No, sir.

Sounds like some dodgy scout master.

Get the car.

Please?

I've found something!

Looks like a goods lift.

Well, there doesn't seem to be much room.

We'll have to go down one at a time.

Excuse me.

Why should you go first?

I'm not staying here a moment longer.

Sir Mortimer. Wait...

HE SCREAMS

LIFT CRASHES

No!

The cables must have been cut.

"You will die by your own selfishness."

Father, if this floor collapses,

we'll all end up like...

This place isn't condemned.

-Too solid.

-Oh.

SHE SOBS

I've said a prayer for him.

My tears aren't for Mortimer.

They're for Uncle Mirth.

It's all my fault he's doing this.

Leaving him caused his breakdown.

It unhinged him.

You are not to blame.

Perhaps the asylum pushed him over the edge.

SHATTERING GLASS

Mrs McCarthy, are you all right?

I don't know, I...I'm feeling most peculiar.

-What is it?

-I...I can't breathe.

-I think you've been poisoned.

-Huh?

Mrs McCarthy's collapsed!

-EVE:

-There's a door. Help me!

We need to find a telephone.

We must be in the cellar by now.

It's locked! Come on.

We will a find a way out, I promise.

Mrs McCarthy?

Up here! We're trapped.

Try that door.

Mrs McCarthy needs medical help, urgently!

Hang on!

It's locked, sir.

We've found a door to the cellars.

Can you get down there and open it from the other side?

-No, this one too.

-Out the way.

Come on!

Goodbye, Father.

HE SOBS

Thank you, Doctor.

Well?

See for yourself.

This is the worst cup of tea I've ever had.

You'll need to let the pot stand for at least two minutes before pouring.

The first death certificate was found over there.

Was it really necessary to bring us back?

Need to get a clear picture.

Now, what I don't understand is why you three were invited?

I mean, you weren't the intended victims.

Uncle Mirth was a showman. He always craved an audience.

And with me a producer and Jacob a writer,

he knew we'd tell his story to an even bigger audience.

It was Sir Mortimer who insisted I come.

Show me where you found the second one.

You said yesterday...

..about not being with Sir Mortimer for much longer.

Well, I...

I just meant that I was planning to leave him.

Surely you don't think I had anything to do with...?

Of course not.

I'm so pleased you're feeling better, Mrs M.

I'm absolutely fine. No need for all this fuss.

You were poisoned.

The needles in the dummy were doused in it.

Thank goodness the inspector got you here in time.

A repellent little man, to say the least.

But you can't fault what he did.

The poison was meant for me.

I'm so sorry.

Don't be silly, Father!

The inspector wants me back at the mill now.

But...let me cook lunch for you.

Oh! Lovely.

In the meantime, please try and get some rest.

I'll look after her, Father.

I'm not an invalid. I don't need looking after.

Now, you're not going to be a difficult patient, are you, Mrs M?

'My other brother, Sir Mortimer,

'you will die from your own selfishness.

'And Father Brown..'

You will be killed by your own curiosity.

'If all does not go to plan, well,

'you will all fall to your death anyway.'

You're not allowed up here.

'This building has been...'

-I thought you wanted to see me.

-Too late now.

Got what I needed from the others.

-Dusty cellar.

-So...

Any sign of Uncle Mirth?

Not that it's any of your business,

but that maniac is still on the loose.

That maniac might be an ill man.

Tell that to the twisted corpse of Sir Mortimer.

On the screen,

I thought I noticed Uncle Mirth flinch

when we heard that click.

A click?

Could have been anything - door, window, light switch...

Or a gun.

Perhaps he made his speech under duress...

YELLS: Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?

-No, I...

-Good.

Now get out of here before I arrest you for being a pain in the backside.

Well, I certainly would.

Oh, come on, don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind.

At a time like this, how can you even think about such things?

Wouldn't be the first time we've both liked the same man.

You mean Uncle Mirth?

So Mr Writer, fancy another ride?

Uh, no, thank you.

-The sergeant's giving me a lift.

-Jacob...

During your research for Uncle Mirth's biography,

did you discover what happened to his sister?

She was unhinged.

She died abroad last year.

Suspected suicide.

So...

His siblings are dead and he's missing.

You think it's some kind of vendetta against the family?

-Possibly.

-But you were named in the film footage, Father.

Mm...

Yes, I was.

Yes, sir, we've searched the surrounding areas.

But there's no sign of Uncle Mirth.

He's not going to stay around waiting to be caught, is he?

Let's search Kembleford and the surrounding area.

Yes, sir.

HE CLICKS HIS TONGUE

Ah!

Old, dusty.

New.

Uncle Mirth.

SNORING

Oh, yeah.

Oh! Outrageous.

SHE SNORES LOUDLY Ah!

-What was that?

-Nothing.

Just the gentle rumblings of a combine harvester.

You're looking a little flushed.

It's rather hot in here. Can we open the window?

Heavens above, look at the time. And where's Father Brown got to?

Well, he hasn't come back yet.

You know what he's like, he's probably sleuthing somewhere.

He said he was going to prepare the luncheon.

And he never misses a meal.

And now...now I'm hungry and worried.

You're safe now. I'll get you some help.

GUN CLICKS

I was wondering when you'd turn up.

You framed Uncle Mirth for his brothers' murders,

set up the sick jokes in keeping with his public pranks

and invited people to witness them.

But Uncle Mirth,

who is not as comical as you may think,

left a number of clues to your identity.

All right, I'll say what you want.

I'll need a drink first.

While your back was turned, he put a pin in the globe.

Ireland.

And the beverage he chose.

Irish stout.

I saw you hiding in the grounds, Father.

How did you know where he was?

Dusty cellar.

Dust, from the cellar.

Immured, walled in.

Nasty death, suffocation.

It's a ventilation shaft.

So...

Your pose as Uncle Mirth's biographer

was just a ploy to get information?

If you're not a writer...

..who are you?

Another crackpot of the Empire.

The Empire?

Ah, the family.

Is this all about inheritance?

Yep.

Did you put me in your will?

He...

he said he was indebted to you for helping him.

So with me and the brothers dead, you stood to inherit everything.

All right, it's time you were told the truth.

I'm your sister's son.

She married an Irish labourer,

but their father disowned her.

She was dead to him.

I... I didn't know...

Oh, and that makes it right?!

While you and your brothers lived like kings,

we were starving in some rat-infested slum.

But it's not their fault. Is it?

As Henry said,

they were children when their sister left.

This isn't about revenge!

I'm taking back what my mother...

What I was denied.

All my life, I have fantasised about killing them and inheriting it all.

Killing them?

Is the family fortune worth that much to you?

Fortune?

Oh, you've no idea, do you, Father?

They're worth millions.

It truly is an empire.

What would your mother think about all this?

I'm doing it for her!

She hung herself.

She's buried in a pauper's grave.

I couldn't even afford a headstone.

HE SOBS

I'm sorry.

Well, he's not in St Mary's.

I've looked everywhere I can think of.

-You should go back and rest.

-I am not going anywhere until I...

Inspector!

It's Father Brown, he hasn't come back from the mill.

Snooping around, no doubt...

He might be in danger.

Well, if he's not, he will be when I get my hands on him.

Goodfellow, come on.

She never got over what happened.

Years of depression, mental problems.

She was always begging me to take back what was rightfully hers.

I promised her!

And I can't let some priest ruin it.

But what have you done, Jacob?

Look at him.

He's your uncle.

I had to keep him alive until

all the other beneficiaries of the will were dead.

But you must know...

you won't get away with this?

Won't I?

"Crazy Uncle Mirth kills Father Brown as he said he would...

"..then kills himself."

That'll be good enough for the police.

Please. Don't do that.

This way.

-Please. Give me the gun.

-No!

I have to do this.

It's for my mother.

But if you pull the trigger and kill me,

then he'll kill you.

But if you give me the gun,

I'll persuade him to put his down.

I can't...

That's your only option to stay alive.

Do you want to die?

Uncle Mirth, please lower your gun.

COCKS GUN

Uncle Mirth, it is over.

Don't.

Please...

You know this is wrong.

No!

Ah!

-MALLORY:

-Padre...

What the...?

Um...

Inspector, would you mind taking this, please?

I believe it's loaded.

Thank you.

It's all right.

It'll be all right.

# I'm loony, loopy hooky, kooky!

# I'm a crackpot of the Empire! #

One of these days, you're going to get killed for real.

You're as mad as that lunatic in the hospital.

I just hope that Jacob hasn't pushed Uncle Mirth back into insanity.

LAUGHTER

Now, what did Inspector Mallory say to his belly button?

You're under a vest!

Looks sane enough to me, back to normal.

Crackpot of the Empire.

Now, what do you call a bishop when he sleepwalks?

A roamin' Catholic!

ALL LAUGH

Why is Father Brown laughing? Mass hysteria!

ALL LAUGH