It's English.
Damn! He went too far.
Damn!
Good morning. Here to see Commander Howard.
Mr Foyle? The Commander sends his apologies.
He's still in a meeting. Take a seat.
Thank you.
We need a ship. I don't care what sort of ship.
How else am I to get my agents into Brittany?
Air drops would be more effective.
All the Special Duty flights are reserved by the Secret Intelligence Services.
We were here first. Why should we give any more flights,
any more fuel, any more men,
when, after seven months, you've nothing to show for it?
If you didn't block our operations, we would have made more progress.
My view of the Special Operations Executive has been clear from the start.
A bunch of upstarts and amateurs wasting valuable time and resources.
We are aware - Requests for ships,
planes, receiving stations and the rest of it are simply deplorable,
given the total lack of results. We've had results.
We made contact with the Polish Home Army. And lost it.
Your two agents have vanished. Who told you that?
Two agents lost in Poland,
another in Czechoslovakia.
You're spying on us. You have no right -
Gentlemen, please, this is going nowhere.
Commander Howard?
We have a French training ship that might fit the bill, sir.
A 60-foot yawl. She's lying idle in Portsmouth.
Send me the details and I'll pass them on.
Sir Giles?
One more mistake,
I'll prove they should have listened to me in the first place.
Christopher.
Come on up.
I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting.
Charles.
It's been a bloody day, departmental infighting. You wouldn't believe it.
It's hard to believe we're all on the same side.
How's Andrew?
He's very well, thank God.
I keep meaning to write to him, see him, drop him a fiver in the post.
I'm not much of an uncle.
The only one he's got.
Here.
I may be able to help you.
I've been putting the word out.
I may have something for you. Go on.
It would mean moving to Liverpool.
Go on.
Reporting to Admiral Sir Percy Noble.
He's a good man.
Popular. Clever.
Heading up this Western Approaches Command Centre on the docks.
He's got a huge intelligence operation up there.
And he'll see me?
With my recommendation. Thank you.
It couldn't be more important.
If we lose much more shipping, we'll all starve to death.
Well...I want to help.
I know, but there is one thing I...
I have to ask you this.
You're doing a bloody good job where you are.
Everyone speaks very highly of you.
Why are you still so determined to leave?
Andrew flies Spitfires.
I know the work you're doing here.
This morning, I arrest a man for speculating
in breach of the 1939 Prices Of Goods Act,
selling batteries at ten pence ha'penny a time.
I'd better speak to Sir Percy. Thank you.
Everything all right, sir?
I think so.
You're not really planning to leave?
Where did you get that from?
You can't leave the Force, sir.
I mean, what would I do without you?
You'll easily find another job. It wouldn't be the same.
You could take me with you, make me an honorary Wren.
Listen, nothing's been decided yet.
Just keep all this under your hat, you understand?
Mum's the word.
Morning. How are you? Well?
Fine. Thank you.
Good morning. Welcome to St Mary's.
Hello. How do you do?
Hello. Nice to see you. How are the family? Are they well?
Welcome one and all, both to the old...
I need to talk to you, but not now.
..and to those new faces who have recently come amongst us.
St Mary's is a very old church and a draughty one,
but we hope you feel at home.
We will start with our usual hymn.
It's been very nice to see you again.
I hope you'll soon be better.
See you soon.
Goodbye.
Hello, Captain.
Very good sermon. Nice of you to say so, Colonel.
Perhaps we'll see you again next Sunday.
We've had some news from France.
When? Last night.
Facteur?
He's dead.
What happened?
All that matters is we keep this to ourselves.
If Sir Giles hears so much as a - Yes, of course.
So, what are we going to do?
I have an idea.
You have too many ideas.
Do they know? Unfortunately, yes.
But they only know he was killed. Nothing more.
For the time being.
We have a snake in the grass. Sir Giles virtually boasted of it.
But which one of them is it? Maccoby? Nicholson? Dumont?
That's your job, Hilda. I have to know which one of them it is.
So, how much longer are you going to keep me here?
I don't know about you, Mr Fenner, but I've got all day.
Oh. Well, I've got a shop to run.
Yes, the shop on Alberry Street. It's getting to be well known.
I like to do my best by my customers.
That's certainly true. Batteries.
Razor blades. Spare parts for radios.
Even Thermos flasks. ONE flask. She had a special permit.
Providing you're willing to pay.
Look, what is this?
It's a penny here and tuppence there.
I mean, things come my way and I pass 'em on.
At a profit. Well, so who's counting?
Sergeant Milner, I'm surprised you haven't got something better to do.
I'm doing my job, Mr Fenner.
There are men losing their lives every day to keep supply lines open.
"A penny here"? "Tuppence there"? Is that all you think they're worth?
Put me up in front of the magistrate.
I shall get a £5 fine and be sent home again.
If that's what you want to do, then do it, but just don't waste my time.
Morning, sir. Sergeant. Anything?
Not really, sir. You haven't bought your raffle tickets.
How much are they? Tuppence. Proceeds to the WVS.
What do I win? This.
Quite a beauty. I'll have a bob's worth.
Very good. I'll make a note of it.
Sir.
Any luck? No, sir.
Until I can find out who's supplying him, there's not much I can do.
Right. Let him go.
Yes, sir.
Are you all right?
Yes, sir.
Could I have a smell?
What?
The onion. I haven't seen one since Christmas.
Mm!
That'll cost you a penny.
Get the door open.
Are you still here?
I thought you'd gone.
I've just dropped Mr Foyle home. I'm leaving the car here tonight.
Do you want to buy me a drink?
Wasn't working. So she's gone back to Wales.
It's all the war. You try and go on as normal and you just can't.
It's mucking us all up.
I don't know what will happen if it goes on much longer.
There's something else.
I'm thinking of leaving Hastings.
Oh, not you, too?
Who else?
Nobody.
Why do you want to leave?
A fresh start, I suppose.
Mr Foyle will be very disappointed in you.
Don't mention it to him. Not yet.
I won't. I wouldn't dream of it.
Do you know what you two need?
Something to take your mind off things.
A jolly good murder.
That'd do it.
Sir.
An explosion last night, sir. A warden got caught in the blast.
Is he all right? He's in hospital. Minor injuries.
Which is more than you can say for the man who was inside.
We haven't moved him. I'm afraid it isn't very pleasant.
Don't worry, sir. I'm staying outside.
The MO says he was a young man. There's not much more he can add.
Not much of him left.
It looks like a grenade, sir.
He must have been holding it right up to his head.
Incidentally, both doors were locked and the key was in his pocket.
The warden said he didn't see anybody else around.
It looks like it might have been suicide.
Anything else? Identity card? Ration book?
No, sir. Just this.
It was in the same pocket as the key.
It's gold. Plate?
Solid, I'd say.
There's an inscription on the inside.
WRM. Congratulations.
April 5th, 1938.
Congratulations on what?
A strange place to do away with yourself.
It's been closed for a while.
Sir.
Jack Fenner. Bang opposite.
That's his van, apparently.
Worth having another word with him.
Release the date and the initials on this to the press.
Say it was an accident. See if we get a response.
Yes, sir. I'll find out if it was bought locally.
Good idea.
You can see... it's signed and numbered.
Swiss?
Mm.
This is a very nice, gold pocket watch.
Keyless, gilt-bar movement.
Arabic numerals.
Expensive? Mm. Undoubtedly.
Ah!
I see it's been engraved.
1938?
That's strange.
Why is that, sir?
Well, I don't quite understand.
The watch has obviously been heavily used.
There are quite a few scratches.
It's been repeatedly taken in and out of the pocket.
Look here. You see?
It wears smooth after a time.
And another thing...
It needs a clean.
So, it's an old watch? That's what I mean.
It LOOKS like an old watch,
but this is a very recent model.
How recent?
A year?
I would certainly say it was made AFTER 1938.
An explosion in Alberry Street.
The police have removed the body of a man in his mid-twenties,
following what appears to have been a tragic accident.
A pocket watch was recovered from the scene with the initials WRM.
I thought he committed suicide.
Perhaps.
You can't believe anything you read in the papers these days.
If it's not the Ministry Of Information cutting things out, it's propaganda.
Won't you miss it, sir?
The Chronicle?
All this. Police work.
Naval intelligence is all just paperwork.
Yes.
Right. Thank you. On our way.
You see what I mean?
You never know what's round the corner in this job.
Enough. End of conversation. The subject's off limits. Thank you.
William Messinger. That's it. That's his name.
He had a gold watch. I saw him with it.
That's what made me think it must be William.
And is this it?
Yes.
Lovely, innit? Valuable, I'd have said.
So, what can you tell us about him, Mrs Thorndyke?
Well, not a lot, I'm afraid.
He only started renting a room here six months ago.
What was he doing in Hastings?
He didn't say.
He kept himself to himself, really.
I think his parents live in the town.
He certainly mentioned he had family here somewhere.
If, erm, he had a family, why would he need the room, do you think?
Ah, now, I can tell you that. Would you care to sit down?
No.
There was a young lady he was seeing.
A nice girl.
I imagine he didn't want to take her home.
Do you know her name?
Erm... Now...
Greenwood. That's it.
Marion Greenwood.
I only saw her two or three times.
How long have you lived in Hastings, Mrs Thorndyke?
Oh, a long time.
I lived here with my husband, Ernest.
He died last year.
He was only 63.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
Was he a Hastings man? Born and bred, yeah.
Was he at school here? Yes, yes.
Where was that, then?
What do you want to know that for?
I thought you wanted to know about Mr Messinger.
Yes. Would you mind if we took a look at his room?
Identity card. Money.
He seems to have left everything behind.
Sir.
Marion, my darling,
by the time you read this, I will have made my choice.
I told you I can't live without you.
Now you will know that I meant what I said.
This his handwriting?
Yes. It is.
How do you know?
He used to leave me notes.
You don't think suicide, do you?
Don't I? What do you think?
A man locks himself in a room with the key in his pocket,
blows himself up with a hand grenade,
he has a motive, he's just bust up with his girl,
and he leaves behind a suicide note in his own handwriting.
No, I don't think so, either.
So, you -
Hampstead.
You went ahead against my advice and without further consultation.
Remember, Miss Pierce, you may run this Section,
but I am Director Of Operations
and I don't need to ask permission from you.
You can't believe it'll work. Why not?
It's exactly what we were put in place to achieve.
If we win, we survive. If we lose, we don't deserve to.
You may already have a problem.
Have you seen this?
Yes.
You've been very unlucky.
The case is being investigated by Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle.
Do you know him? I met him last September.
He is not the provincial policeman you expected, Colonel Wintringham.
He won't leave this alone and he may even find his way to you.
I rather doubt it.
I'm telling you, he's dangerous.
This whole situation is dangerous. That's why I took the action I did.
Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle, Hastings Constabulary.
Forget him.
Speak to Fenner? No, sir. It's rather strange.
I went to his home and spoke to his wife. She thought he was with us.
Where's he gone, then?
I don't know, but he wasn't at home and he didn't open the shop.
Mr Foyle, sir. There's a young lady been waiting to see you.
Says her name is Marion Greenwood.
Right.
Your raffle tickets.
You're the policeman investigating the death...the explosion in...?
Yes. Come in.
Sit down.
Are you sure it's William?
Not exactly.
I'm afraid whoever it was has suffered rather extensive injuries.
Yes.
In fact, all we've got to go on is a watch.
A gold watch?
It's W... It's William's.
Do you know where he got it?
No. He always had it.
I think it was a birthday present.
We also found a letter addressed to you in the room he was renting.
Oh, God,
but this is so stupid.
He's telling me he killed himself because of me.
What... What am I meant to do?
Am I meant to feel guilty? Is that what he wanted?
It isn't fair.
It wasn't like that between us.
How did you meet?
Erm...
I was working in a bookshop.
Well, it was more of a book depository, if you know what I mean.
It's closed now.
The one on Alberry Street?
Yes.
We bumped into each other one lunchtime and just sort of clicked.
What was his job?
No idea. Erm...
He was in London a lot of the time. It was all very hush-hush.
Did you ever meet the family?
No.
No, his father is a major general or something.
Sir Giles Messinger.
They've got a mansion somewhere outside Hastings.
I was never allowed anywhere near.
Not good enough, I suppose.
So, what exactly were things like between you?
We were friends.
Well...
We were more than that.
We used to meet at the bookshop.
It was the only place we could get any privacy.
He had a key?
Mm. Yes. We both did.
I had copies made.
I know what you must be thinking, but it was all just a game, really.
I liked him, but I didn't love him.
Then I met someone else, who's...
And you told him?
He was terribly upset.
He couldn't live without me. He said that.
I didn't believe him.
I thought it was all just words. I never thought that he'd...
Who is Sir Giles Messinger, sir?
Big in Whitehall. Ministry For Economic Warfare.
Rumoured to be associated with Military Intelligence.
Like father like son, perhaps.
Both in the cloak-and-dagger business?
Quite possibly.
I'm very sorry to have had to be the one to break this to you, sir.
It can't be.
Are you sure there's no mistake? You...
You said there was a...problem of identification.
Yes, but a pocket watch was found on the body.
My son had no pocket watch,
not that I knew of.
With his initials and a date, 5th April, 1938.
That was his birthday.
His 21st.
Look, we can...
We can come back another time, if you'd rather?
No. No.
Let's get this over and done with.
Is this his handwriting?
Yes.
What is this?
It's a letter he seems to have written
to a young woman he was apparently seeing.
What was her name?
Marion.
Marion Greenwood.
He never mentioned her.
We never met.
He never brought her here.
When did you last see him?
Hm?
Oh, about two weeks ago.
He came for luncheon.
He was in a strange mood.
Excitable.
He never talked about any girl.
We didn't, er...
We didn't really see as much of him as we would have liked to.
We weren't close.
Particularly recently.
We both had our work.
What was it that he did?
I'm afraid I can't discuss that.
Giles. Classified, Anne. You know that.
I will, of course, report his death to his superiors.
It's fairly clear that it's got nothing to do with his work.
Can we be sure of that?
Well, you told me yourself.
It's all because of some girl.
Oh, I take it you have spoken to her?
Yes, sir.
Beggars belief.
Look, erm...
If you have nothing more to ask me, I'd prefer it if you left.
Yes, of course,
but your son's death isn't as clear to us,
as it seems to be to you and er...
I'm afraid there may be more to ask you.
They raised more questions than they answered.
They didn't know his girlfriend.
If they didn't give him the watch for his 21st, who did?
Mr Foyle!
I shouldn't be speaking to you, but there's something you should know.
William WAS here two weeks ago, as Giles said.
He was excitable, it's true, but it was more than that.
I thought he was afraid.
Of what? I don't know.
He and Giles talked about what they were doing. They never included me.
He was here with a young man, a Pole,
by the name of Jan Komorowski.
It was clear they were working together,
in a place called Hill House in Levenham.
I shouldn't know this. I heard them talking when I was in the kitchen.
Anne?
Levenham?
I can't tell you any more,
but, please, Mr Foyle, if something DID happen to William,
if things aren't as they seem, you will let me know?
What did you tell them? Nothing.
This was all my fault, you know.
No.
Yes. I was never a good father to him.
He was determined to spite me.
No, Giles.
Oh, God, poor William.
Yes, I drove him to it.
It's my fault.
It's good news, Christopher.
Completely unorthodox. Normally, they'd be looking inside the Navy,
but times are hard, beggars can't be choosers.
Thanks.
What I mean is, to hell with the protocol.
They need a first-class mind and it might as well be yours.
Well, Charles, thank you. I appreciate it.
There's something I want to ask you.
Go ahead. You're paying for lunch.
You might as well get your money's worth.
What can you tell me about Giles Messinger?
Sir Giles Messinger?
Not much. Not without getting shot.
He's SIS.
Secret Intelligence Service.
Very senior. Very influential.
He used to run Section D, but they took half his men away from him.
Since then, he's been like a wounded tiger,
mauling anyone who gets in his way.
A word of advice. Steer well clear of him.
A bit late for that. I was there this morning.
Why?
No. Don't tell me. I don't think I want to know.
But I'm serious, Christopher. Be careful.
You don't want to get on the wrong side of a man like Messinger,
not unless you want to spend the rest of your career on the beat.
Messinger was working with a man called Jan Komorowski in Levenham.
Levenham? In Hampshire? Which is where you and I are off to.
Well, that's where my uncle lives. He's the vicar at St Mary's.
The same as your father?
Yes. Quite a few vicars in the family. My grandfather was a bishop.
You carry on here, Milner.
Yes, sir. Get back to the landlady.
See how long she's really been living in Hastings
and find out where her husband went to school.
She doesn't want to tell us.
No, and she identified his watch without so much as glancing at it.
We still don't know where it's from.
Have another word with the girl, Marion Greenwood.
Has Fenner turned up yet? We're still looking.
Well, keep at it.
How long will you be gone, sir? A day or two.
I felt I should see you as soon as I heard the news.
I know you and I have had our differences, but this is a tragedy.
I can't tell you how sorry I am.
When did you last see our son?
Last week.
He'd been pulled out of an operation and he was disappointed.
I gave him a few days' leave to get over it. I assumed he'd come here.
We didn't see him.
We didn't even know he'd taken a room in Hastings.
He was a first-class member of my team, Lady Messinger.
You have all our condolences.
None of us could have seen this coming.
We had a policeman here this morning.
A man called Foyle.
Oh, yes?
He was implying there are some...
loose ends, concerning my son's death.
Loose ends?
He wasn't very specific,
but his whole approach suggested some sort of criminal investigation.
I'm afraid Mr Foyle is something of a troublemaker, sir.
He has quite a reputation for...
How can I put it?
..extending his authority into places where it has no right to be.
He seemed a very honest man to me.
I want you to know something, Colonel.
I don't need to tell you my views of your organisation.
If Churchill had listened, you'd never have had a chance.
Sir Giles, I - That my own son chose to defy me
and join you
is still a matter of profound disappointment.
But if I find that you were, in any way, responsible for his death,
if, in some way,
you drove him to take his own life...
..I will destroy you.
I want you to know that.
Yes, sir. I understand.
Now I'd ask you to leave.
Stand up!
Forward!
Come on!
So sit down.
Your name is Jan Komorowski. No.
You are a spy. No. My name is Fr...
No! No.
Don't lie to me.
Now we get the truth.
Pack it in!
Stop!
Again.
Under!
I think that went rather well, don't you?
Is Milner all right?
Sir?
Always in early. Last to leave. Seems very quiet. Anything the matter?
Not that I know of, sir.
Nothing I'd care to repeat.
Oh. I see.
We're nearly there, sir.
That's Old Parkin's farm.
I used to go scrumping there when I was visiting Uncle Aubrey.
Old Parkin once chased me for a quarter of a mile.
Around the orchard?
No. I was nowhere near the orchard. He used to chase me everywhere.
There's the church!
Samantha, my dear, what a treat.
It's been far too long. How are you?
Uncle Aubrey.
And you must be Mr Foyle.
Iain's told me all about you.
A pleasure. Mr Stewart.
Aubrey, please.
Come in and have a glass of wine. I make it myself.
Greengage. Particularly good, even though I say it myself.
Are you going to stay? Well...
No, no, I insist on it. There's plenty of room.
In any case, it's strange you should be here.
"Divine providence", one might almost say.
Come. Come in. Come in.
Samantha, take Mr Foyle's coat, would you?
Ah.
So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?
You know that place Hill House?
Ah. I had a feeling you were going to ask me about that.
Yes, it's less than a mile away.
It used to be a sanatorium, but it was requisitioned.
Who by? Oh, the military.
Ministry Of Information...propaganda.
Nobody really knows.
There you are.
We see quite a few of them in church, from time to time,
but it's best not to ask too many questions.
Nothing else you can tell us about the place?
Well, yes, there might be.
As a matter of fact, there is, yes. Look...
I suppose it's nothing worth investigating, but...
I've been growing increasingly uneasy about these new people.
The Hill House lot? Yes.
There was a rumour going around that the whole lot were German spies.
Some of them certainly behave that way.
One chap in particular. He's always loitering around the place.
And then...
There have been incidents.
A couple of nights ago, I was called out to a parishioner.
Mrs Richards. She's very elderly.
There you are. Thank you.
There you are, darling.
The caller claimed to be her son. He said she was dying.
So, of course, I set off at once.
Even though, God knows, it meant cycling six and a half miles,
in the dark, most of it uphill.
Cycling? Yes, yes.
We don't get petrol coupons for that sort of thing.
Cheers!
So, when I got there, it was a hoax.
Mrs Richards was already in bed when I arrived.
She was perfectly well.
Her son is in Africa.
So we had a cup of tea together and I cycled back home again.
How's the wine? It's erm -
Very...green.
Yes.
What else has happened, then?
Well, the next day, someone smashed a vase on one of the graves.
What makes it worse, the grave was only one or two days old.
Who died?
Oh, Jenny Harper's boy, Ted.
Ted Harper?
He was a young man, a builder. He fell off a roof and broke his neck.
Oh. I liked him.
That's... That's terrible.
And the vase?
Scattered over the grass in the graveyard.
A wanton act of vandalism.
You think all of this is connected to Hill House?
I don't know. It might be.
It's just that I have a feeling.
I may be quite wrong, but...
This sort of thing never happened before they arrived.
Well, I'm going up there later. I'll do my best to find out.
You're actually going to Hill House? Marvellous.
Mind you, I doubt they'll let you in.
What I don't understand, sir,
if William Messinger killed himself because of a girl in Hastings,
what makes you think it's connected to whatever's going on here?
I don't know yet. That's why we're here. Just curious.
Afternoon.
There's no entry here, sir, not without authorisation.
I'm a policeman, looking into the death of someone who worked here.
Who might that have been, then? William Messinger.
I don't know anyone by that name, sir.
Right. What about a Pole called Jan Komorowski?
No-one here by that name either, sir.
No?
Anyone who might be able to help me, more superior, less obstructive?
And what's your name, then?
Wait here.
It's him.
I told you he'd find us. I can't see how.
The Messingers. William's parents.
He saw them?
Sir Giles won't have said anything. Then how?
I told you. He's clever.
Maybe we can find out.
Maybe we should ask him.
You're not going to let him in? Why not?
You know, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
Well, I'm not sure he's either.
If we bring him in here, we can control him.
Official secrets and all that.
Outside, he's a loose cannon.
The agent working against us - Messinger's man? What about him?
Well, he may tell him that Foyle was here.
That's too bad.
More to the point, we still don't know who he is.
Maybe your Mr Foyle can help us.
James, if you'll take one piece of advice from me, it will be
NOT to invite him in. Advice rejected.
Send him up.
Oh. Mr Milner.
Mrs Thorndyke.
Come in. Thank you.
Are you going somewhere?
Yes. I have a sister in Slough. I'm going there for the weekend.
How can I help you, Mr Milner? I've told you everything I know.
A couple of questions.
Oh, yes? About your husband.
Ernest? What's he got to do with anything?
You didn't mention which school he went to.
What? Just for the record.
St Anthony's in the Hillborough Road.
Mr Milner, I have to say I don't understand this.
You're treating me like a common criminal.
I'm not treating you like a criminal,
but I would like to know why you're lying to me.
I beg your pardon?
There's no record of an Ernest Thorndyke ever having lived
or died in Hastings.
You said that you've lived here a long time.
This house was rented by a local solicitor's office ONE YEAR ago.
I didn't say I'd lived HERE a long time. You misunderstood me.
I've lived in Hastings 20 years.
That's what I meant.
How long do you plan to be away?
I told you. Two days.
Make sure it isn't any longer. I will need to speak to you again.
Mr Foyle.
Miss Pierce. What a surprise.
Not for me. I rather expected I'd see you again.
Did you?
Still with the same organisation, the Special Operations...?
Executive. Yes.
Are you based here?
This is one of many houses we use.
What do you do here, then?
Well, I'll tell you. With great reluctance.
You understand this information is classified?
No-one in the country knows who we are. No-one knows what we do.
We were created as a final resort, Mr Foyle.
The way things are going,
we may be all that stands between England and defeat.
We are, what you might call, the Department Of Dirty Tricks.
We're here to break all the rules of war as they were known.
We have only one aim.
To win.
Follow me.
The SOE was created last July
to coordinate subversion and sabotage against the enemy overseas.
The arts of ungentlemanly warfare. That's what we teach here.
William Messinger was one of your...agents?
One of our students. Yes.
The SOE has finishing schools across the country.
Oh, is that what you call them? Training centres.
We teach Morse, demolition,
resistance to interrogation.
Silent killings.
We deal in murder, as well, Mr Foyle.
You have to know how to make people work for you.
We've looked at patriotism,
religious and/or political motivation...
..personal sympathy, greed.
Please excuse us, Mr Maccoby. Do carry on.
I want to move on now to open and covert bribery,
but always remember the first lesson.
A man that can be bribed, by his very nature,
is untrustworthy.
Where do you get your instructors from?
From many places.
..the reason we do this is quite simple.
It's to kill him.
One shot may kill him, but make absolutely certain with two.
Good day, Miss Pierce.
Major Stafford.
Do carry on.
When you put one shot into a man,
it's rare that it drops him immediately.
His nervous system doesn't collapse for several seconds.
So two shots in quick succession is the answer.
Bang. Bang.
Major Eric Stafford is quite a remarkable man.
He was a policeman, like yourself. Was he?
Spent ten years with the Municipal Police in Shanghai.
William Messinger is the reason I'm here.
Let me introduce you to my commanding officer.
We were all shocked to hear of the death of poor William.
And by his own hand.
What a terrible waste.
He was bright, he was intelligent,
deeply committed to the SOE.
I can't think of any student more determined to succeed.
Strange he should have taken his own life, then?
There was another side to him.
He was immature.
He was passionate,
sometimes even foolhardy.
An unhappy love affair.
I agree with you.
It's a waste.
It may also have been that he was disappointed.
We were about to send him on a mission overseas.
Where was that?
That's not relevant.
William was keen to prove himself,
but, in the end, I decided he wasn't ready.
An agent from another station went in his place.
Maybe that's what threw him. Even so...
Killing himself like that?
I find it hard to believe.
Jan Komorowski,
I understand, is a friend of his. Is he here with you?
I'd be interested to know how you've come by that name.
"Not relevant."
He's from Warsaw. Fought with the Polish Resistance. Good man.
We have quite a few Poles here.
Also French, Canadian,
even one or two Germans.
Would you like to meet them?
Thank you.
Miss Pierce will be delighted to arrange it.
Samantha, what are you doing?
This is the vase from Ted Harper's grave. I'm fixing it.
Why?
I was thinking about the strange things that have been happening here
and I thought maybe I could help.
Ah, yes. You always did want to be a detective, didn't you?
Even when you were a little girl.
You were always reading those terrible books by Edgar Wallace.
Well, I am a detective now.
I've been with the police a year now.
Why the vase? Well, I have a theory.
It occurred to me that your hoax telephone caller
must have wanted to get you out of the way.
He must have been looking for something. Yes?
Something valuable. Like this vase, for example.
Maybe he tried to steal it
and he dropped it.
I'm trying to fix it, so I can figure out if it's worth anything.
It could be an antique. Yes. Of course.
The trouble is, it came from Woolworths.
Did it? Yes.
How do you know? Mrs Harper told me, Ted's mother.
Oh. I see.
Sorry.
Uncle Aubrey, you mentioned something about a loiterer,
a man in connection with a German spy.
Oh, I didn't exactly mean that. I noticed him around the church.
I don't think he's from Hill House.
He always seems to be watching from the side.
Well, what does he look like?
Well, he's as bald as a billiard ball, mid-forties, rather thin.
And he's from the village?
Well, I've seen him around quite a few times.
I don't suppose you know where?
No.
I do want to make one thing clear, Mr Foyle.
This house, these grounds, they come under my jurisdiction
and, while you're here, so do you.
What would that mean, exactly?
You don't ask my men about...
You will restrict your investigation to Messinger.
Before you leave, you'll report back directly to me. Is that clear?
Certainly is.
You'll join us for dinner, I hope.
Miss Pierce will have your things sent on.
Mr Milner!
Sergeant?
It's bad news, I'm afraid.
Mrs Thorndyke.
You lost her?
I had two of my men follow her, like you said, Sykes and Hodges.
They've got their heads screwed on the right way.
What happened? She went to the railway station.
Into the ladies' convenience. The one place they couldn't follow.
They waited outside, but she never came out.
They got the supervisor to take them in, but there was no-one there.
"The Lady Vanishes."
It was a bit like that. That's what they said.
No Ernest Thorndyke at St Anthony's, either.
Who's he? The husband? Deceased.
Did your men check which trains were leaving at that time?
There were two.
The main train to London.
And one heading west, calling at Brighton and Levenham.
Levenham?
I've got one bit of good news.
Your Mr Fenner has turned up again.
You want to know about crime?
What happened to me, that's a crime, an assault.
Can you tell me what happened, Mr Fenner?
Somebody hit me.
A customer?
From behind.
I didn't see who it was.
It was like a bloody tree coming down on the back of my neck.
Then I woke up in here.
Did you see anything at all?
Listen...
A car pulled up outside the bookshop and three men got out.
They were carrying something.
What?
A sack of potatoes? I don't know.
It was heavy. It took three of them to manage it.
They were carrying it into the bookshop?
Well, I didn't find out, did I? Because somebody crept up behind me.
The doctor said I was lucky not to have my neck broken.
Thank you, Mr Fenner.
'Ey! 'Ey, I hope you're going to do something about this.
I'm in pain, you know. I can hardly move.
Gentlemen!
Let me introduce you. Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle.
Jan Komorowski. Major Stafford. Jacques Dumont. Leo Maccoby.
We've already met.
Mark Nicholson.
Introduce yourselves.
Mr Foyle is here investigating the death of William Messinger.
He has my full authority in this matter.
Please. Thank you.
I'll leave you to it.
A glass of wine, Mr Foyle?
We're not used to company, or maybe you don't drink when you're on duty?
Don't be such a fool, Nicholson.
Cigarette? Thank you, sir, no.
Are you really here about Messinger?
Why else would I be?
They don't tell us the truth here.
As for Messinger, a waste of time.
You shouldn't say that.
All that work, that training and he wastes it by killing himself.
Did they tell you that?
Mr Komorowski, I was told that you and he were friends.
We're all friends.
Some more friendly than others.
Thank you.
There's a writer called Mark Nicholson.
Are you Mark Nicholson the writer?
You flatter me. In another life, I used to write crime stories.
Did you read them?
One or two.
You'd always guess the ending.
If you bothered to get that far. To hell with you, Stafford.
Anyway, there you are. I've given up murder and intrigue.
Traded it for the real thing.
I do not believe you are really a police officer.
If he's not a policeman, who is he?
This is a test. Oh.
It's true, there are always tests.
You meet a girl. She makes eyes to you. You feel lonely.
You want to talk with her. She asks you what you do, where you're from.
You tell her.
But she's an agent. The next thing you know, you're out.
Happens all the time.
Have you seen the bar? You'll find it unusually well stocked.
That, too, is a test. They watch how much you drink.
You can't do anything without somebody watching.
Oh, he's who he says he is. Mr Foyle and I know each other.
You know, I hoped I'd never see you again.
The feeling is entirely mutual.
This all sounds very intriguing.
Are you going to tell us what, er, passed between you?
You're a bloody nancy boy. Forget it.
So, Mr Foyle,
would you care to join us for dinner?
Oh, I wouldn't recommend it. The food here is disgusting.
Prefer the cuisine in Paris, do you?
Of course.
We'll have to see if we can drop you on Maxim's.
Without a parachute.
Don't worry about us, Mr Foyle.
We may seem like we hate each other, but we're a perfect team.
And I'm a monkey's uncle Don't bring relations into this.
Oh, I got a letter this morning from Admiral Francis.
He's finally come through on his promise. We've got a ship.
We can start thinking about Brittany.
I think we should wait.
Have you already forgotten Facteur? Of course not.
We killed him, you know.
If you'd only waited for the right information,
it never would have happened.
We had the transport. We had no choice.
We should have waited. The transport wouldn't wait.
I sometimes wonder how long you and I can carry on working together.
So do I.
Perhaps we should let London decide.
You never give up, do you, Mr Foyle?
A man blows himself up in Hastings and you follow the pieces here.
What are you doing here, Mason? They need me.
And it's Maccoby now. You can't change the man.
They really need a brothel owner? I was providing a service.
I never did anybody any harm. You put me away for seven years.
Well, you should still be in there.
They got me out. I know about people, you see.
I understand their weaknesses.
The Germans are the same as us.
You want to know their secrets? Wait until they're in bed.
The war's changed everything. I'm useful now. I do my bit.
You're the one who's redundant.
I'd watch my step, if I were you, Mr Foyle. You could get hurt here.
Or killed. There's hundreds of ways to kill a man and we know them all.
One of them used on William Messinger?
He killed himself. Nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with anyone.
Just one of those things.
Samantha! What are you doing down here?
How are you, Mr Cooper?
Getting by. I heard you were working with the police, over in Hastings.
I'm on an inquiry now. Uncle said you might have someone staying here.
No-one in at the moment.
Two more.
What name? We don't have a name.
I can give you a description, though.
He's a completely bald man, in his forties, rather thin.
He may have something to do with Hill House.
No. I've no-one in.
You could try Parkin's place.
Farmer Parkin?
He's got a lodger. Came about the same time as the rest of them.
He hasn't got much on top.
What are you after him for, then? I'm afraid it's hush-hush.
I'm sure old Parkin will be pleased to see you.
Always had a soft spot for you. Don't I know it.
Thanks.
Bye, Sam.
Name a card.
Any card.
The queen of spades.
Do anything else here, apart from card tricks?
Let me show you something.
A thrupenny piece.
Gone.
Well, if we can't beat the Germans, we can always entertain them.
The move is called "The French Drop".
See how the coin drops?
The right hand draws the eye.
Classic misdirection.
A bit like you and this business with William Messinger, perhaps.
What does that mean?
The only reason anyone would make a fuss is because of his father.
Was he the one who sent you?
Sir Giles Messinger.
I worked for him briefly at Section D, before I was recruited here.
That's the whole point, you see.
We've stolen his turf.
He feels undermined and now he'll do anything he can to see us shut down,
just to ease his own wounded vanity.
Did his son ever talk about him?
William...
didn't really get on with his father.
You can see why.
William kills himself because of some girl.
Sir Giles is using his death, trying to pin the blame on us.
I take it that's why you're here.
Ooh, well, I've told you why I'm here.
Then maybe I do you a disservice.
But I'll tell you one thing.
All this may just seem like party tricks to you.
Misdirection. Sleight of hand.
But think what would happen, if we can make the Germans think
there are 100 Spitfires in a field when, in fact, there are none.
Suppose we can make an advancing army look like an empty street.
Battery. Explosives. Timer.
Remember colour coding.
Blue, ten minutes.
Ten minutes are just about up.
Here comes the train.
Now, if we come across one of our German friends,
you can always offer him your pencil.
Mr Foyle? Can I have a word? Yeah.
Stand well back.
Why did you say that about William?
Is there any doubt about his suicide?
What do you think?
I don't know. He would have said something to me. I was his friend.
Did you meet his girlfriend?
No. He never spoke of a girl.
You met his parents.
His mother said he was in a state about something. Why was that?
He was excited about going to Rouen, in Northern France.
But, in the end, he didn't go. The Colonel said he wasn't ready.
At the last minute, he changed his mind.
If he killed himself, it was because of that,
not because of any girl.
Anyway, it would have made no difference.
Meaning?
They sent another person in his place,
someone from another station.
An agent called, erm, Facteur.
But I hear that the mission was not a success. The agent was killed.
You see what I am saying, Mr Foyle?
If William had not taken his life, he would still have died.
Maybe it was his time.
Morning.
Good morning, Mr Foyle.
Missing home? Whereabouts in France are you from?
Paris.
Oh, really? Which part?
Montparnasse. Do excuse me. I have a class in a minute.
Monsieur Dumont. The paper.
Thank you.
Did you... Did you know William Messinger?
I met him a few times, yes, but er...
I can't say that I knew him. Knew he was going to France?
I heard he had a mission, yes, but it was cancelled at the last second.
Was he angry about that? Angry? No.
He was... He was upset.
He thought he was ready, but, well, it seems he was not.
There's not much I can tell you. I really didn't know him so well.
Why did you...
throw your cap into the ring, so to speak?
I'm sorry, my "cap into the ring"?
To be a part of this.
Ah! Well, that's easy.
You ask any Frenchman what he believes, he will tell you the same.
To see Hitler and his Nazis
parading in the heart of Paris, it is disgusting.
Treading their filthy boots all over our culture, the Louvre,
Notre Dame, can you imagine?
And now Le Stade De Colombes.
I remember, Mr Foyle, when we beat you there at football,
maybe ten years ago.
5-2. Yeah, I remember that. That hurt.
Well, no apologies.
Thank you for your time. My pleasure.
I hope it's not long before you see Paris Montparnasse play again.
Yes, I hope so, too.
I understand Giles Messinger wanted to close you down.
Someone's been speaking out of turn.
Recruiting his son would seem odd, on the face of it, now wouldn't it?
It was William who came to us.
He may have been trying to spite his father.
Why do you ask?
Just curious.
You know, it occurs to me you would fit in very well here.
I understand you're looking to do more for the war effort.
Where did you get that from?
Why end up penpushing for Sir Percy Noble when we can use you here?
I don't suppose you speak French?
I have a feeling I wouldn't get on with the people you employ here.
You mean, Leo Maccoby. I know him as Leo Mason.
You put him in prison. A waste of a good man.
Oh, you think so? He's a pimp. He was employing girls of 15.
A waste of a bad man, then.
Miss Cresswell. I wasn't expecting you so soon.
I'm early, sir.
Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle.
Miss Evelyn Cresswell. My secretary.
We've met.
No, sir. I don't think so.
Miss Cresswell, I have some letters ready to be typed.
Yes, sir.
And we must call you your driver.
Thank you.
Mr Milner! She's on the move.
Marion Greenwood? Took a taxi to Hastings station.
Waiting for the Brighton train. Same train as Mrs Thorndyke.
What time does it leave? In 20 minutes. A car's at the front.
I think I'm on to something. The bald man.
Don't tell me you've found him?
He's got a room at Farmer Parkin's place. I followed him this morning.
I think you should be very careful.
He didn't do anything dangerous.
He made a call from a telephone box in Beeches Lane and then went home.
He never came out again.
At least you know where he lives.
It's a start.
Did you say BEECHES Lane?
He couldn't have made a call. The telephone is broken.
I saw him. No, it's been down for weeks now.
Some soldiers cut through it on a training exercise.
I'm sure it hasn't been repaired.
Hm.
Maccoby? What are you doing in there?
Nothing. You shouldn't be in there.
Get lost, Stafford. I don't take orders from you.
He's got you rattled, hasn't he, Mr Foyle?
No.
Past catching up with you?
He's nothing to me.
Nothing.
Mr Foyle! I hear you're leaving us today.
That's right. Yeah.
I'm sorry we didn't get more of a chance to talk.
You erm...
You were a policeman, too, I believe.
Yeah, the Municipal Police, Shanghai.
A tough crowd, the Chinese, kill you as soon as look at you.
So, you know a lot about killing, then?
That's what we do here.
Enjoy it?
These people may seem mad to you.
When I first came here, that's how they seemed to me,
but 100 years from now,
people won't believe some of the things they came up with.
Hidden radios.
Exploding rats.
Perfect forgeries of letters and IDs.
Itching powder. It's true.
They're going to put it in the Nazis' underwear.
You can't blame them for trying.
Did you train William Messinger?
They've got a powder that can make a car's wheels lock.
They've invented that, too.
Sorry?
I'm not going to talk about poor William.
I was a policeman, you're a policeman,
but we're from different worlds.
The honest truth is you don't belong here.
I'd agree with that.
Leave us alone, Mr Foyle. Don't tar us all with the same brush.
Why did you invite him here?
I presume you're talking about Mr Foyle.
Apparently, the two of you had a run-in in the past.
He robbed me of seven years.
Four years. We got you out.
You shouldn't have had him here, asking questions about Messinger.
He's going to find you out. I have nothing to hide.
No? Well, tell me this.
Little William killed himself because of some girl?
That's what we heard.
But I knew him. He wasn't that sort.
He didn't like girls.
You know what I mean?
Maybe I should have a word with Foyle about that.
Maccoby, you - Or maybe...
We should just get rid of him.
Get him out of here. Permanently.
You think about that.
Good afternoon, sir!
I'm glad to see you.
I was worried they weren't going to let you out.
So was I.
So, what do they do here?
You wouldn't believe me, if I told you.
Are you going to? No.
Well, I won't ask, then.
Did you speak to Milner?
No, sir. I'm sorry. I've been rather busy.
Oh, yeah?
Trying to help my uncle work out what's been going on.
I may have found something.
It was hidden in a telephone box.
A letter with a map.
Someone must have left it there to be picked up and I took it.
And where is it now?
I've got it with me.
Sir, wasn't that - Marion Greenwood. Yes, it was.
Do you want me to turn round and go after her?
No. Keep going.
Do you know... There's something wrong.
Er, sir, it's...
Sir, the wheel.
I can't - What's going on?
I can't...
Oh.
Damn!
Are you all right?
Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.
Hm. We should get out.
Can you manage? Mm.
There you are.
Feeling any better? Much better. Thank you.
When did you get here, Milner?
Sergeant Milner arrived about half an hour before you.
I came down by train.
And I wasn't alone. I was following Marion Greenwood.
Do you know where she went?
She jumped in a taxi at the station. Guess where it took her.
Hill House?
Is this any help, sir?
Yes.
A map of Rouen.
Well, it seems it's a copy of a map of Rouen,
used by an agent, according to this letter.
10 10 40. That's a map reference.
Isn't it? Is it?
Did you see who left this?
I didn't see his face, but it wasn't the bald man.
All Hill House. That's what it all comes down to.
That and your church, sir.
Sorry?
The young builder who died.
Ted Harper.
I'm very sorry to have to do this, but I'm afraid, erm...
We're going to have to disturb the peace and quiet of your churchyard.
Poor Ted.
I christened him, you know.
I remember seeing him play hide-and-seek out here,
ducking behind the gravestones.
A couple of weeks ago, he came to see me.
He was going to marry his girl, Mary Thompson. Do you remember her?
She used to work at the village shop.
He was going to get married, start a family.
Then he has a stupid accident, falls off a roof and breaks his neck.
Sometimes, you really have to ask what he's thinking of up there.
Sir!
Mr Foyle, you haven't told me what you expect to find.
I don't expect we'll find anything.
You bloody bastard, Foyle. Damn you to hell for this!
Nice to see you again, Mr Mason. Bye.
Major Stafford. Mr Foyle.
"A powder that can make a car's wheels lock"?
Carborundum powder. That's the technical name for it.
You knew, didn't you?
A man like Leo Maccoby or Mason or whatever has no place here.
There's dirty tricks and dirty tricks,
but you have to decide how dirty you want to be.
Thank you, if you were trying to warn me.
I just wish you'd been less covert about it.
Now, how well do you know the area around Caen?
Not personally, but I have many friends I can reach.
Good.
Good morning.
I'm afraid this isn't a very good moment.
Not for you, perhaps. A perfectly good one for me.
What can I do for you?
You can start by apologising for wasting my time
and perhaps explain how you manage to achieve
the levels of incompetence you regularly do.
I think we'd like to hear you explain yourself.
Incompetent? How?
You are, firstly, responsible for the failure
of the organisation's recent operation in France.
Firstly? Really? How?
You sent an agent, who was killed,
as a result of being supplied with out-of-date information.
What is that? It's a map of Rouen and environs,
dated 10th October last year,
which gives no indication of current local occupied territory.
He was dropped in an area mined by the Germans.
And secondly?
Secondly,
even assuming you must know that there's a spy in your midst...
..allowing him to leak this sort of information
is peculiar, to say the least. A spy?
Well, apparently MI6, since he left the map and this letter,
which gives classified information pointing directly to MI6,
lying about in a disused phone box, presumably to be collected.
You're as bad as each other.
And would you feel able to go so far
as to reveal the identity of this spy?
Well, it's not part of my brief and, since you've wasted my time,
I don't see why I should help you with yours.
But, since you ask,
if I were you, I'd be looking for someone...
..posing as a Frenchman, with a passable accent,
who is an accomplished Times crossword solver
and yet claims not to understand basic English idioms
and who believes that Paris Montparnasse
is a football team and not a railway station.
You dropped these.
Well, that rather puts paid to it.
Amazed I was able to get away with it as long as I did.
Who are you?
You'll have to address any questions to my commanding officer.
Giles Messinger. Yes.
My apologies, Colonel, nothing personal.
Escort him to the security wing. Don't let him out of the building.
Excuse me. I'd like to have heard more, but I'm sure you understand.
Perfectly.
It would seem he doesn't know.
Doesn't know what, Mr Foyle?
As much as you think he might, Colonel.
And how much do you know?
More than him, apparently.
Well, he knows at least as much as we've talked about
and as much as anyone else here might know,
that the agent Facteur, who died as a result of the map,
was a replacement for William Messinger.
I know that Messinger wasn't replaced,
that Facteur,
French for "postman", everybody's messenger,
was, in fact, William Messinger,
who did not commit suicide in Hastings,
but died in France, in a German minefield.
Tell him.
No. If you don't, I will.
You're right, Mr Foyle.
We had a Special Duty flight,
but no up-to-date information about the area around Rouen.
All the same, Colonel Wintringham decided to go ahead.
We dropped him in a wood, near a village called St-Etienne.
He was killed almost at once, before even making contact with the French.
Sir Giles Messinger was waiting for us to make one last mistake
and we dropped his son in a minefield.
How were we going to tell him that?
Why send him in the first place, him of all people?
He wanted to go.
He persuaded me.
If he came back a hero, his father would change his opinion of us.
He'd have been neutralised.
A high-risk strategy, but it might have worked.
If he'd come back. I don't care about your squabbles.
Leaving aside the moral issue,
what I have to care about, not least because I'm paid to, is the law.
Nothing illegal.
Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing we can't justify.
Desecration of a grave. Illegal. Justify that.
If whoever you got to do this hadn't broken a vase,
nobody would even have known you'd been there.
The body you stole to substitute for Messinger
blown out of all recognition by a grenade. Justify that.
A whole history fabricated.
The watch.
That's what I mean. It LOOKS like an old watch,
but this is a very recent model.
The rented room.
The Hastings landlady who'd never lived in Hastings.
Yes.
Lovely, innit? Valuable, I'd have said.
He never went anywhere without it.
Miss Evelyn Cresswell. My secretary.
We've met.
No, sir. I don't think so.
Professional actress or just a versatile secretary?
She wasted police time.
The suicide letter? Forged.
Marion Greenwood works for you and perverted the course of justice.
And one of your men tried to kill me.
Illegal.
All morally unacceptable.
How would you like to justify it?
Necessities of war, Mr Foyle, in which there is no morality.
You fail to grasp this.
I don't like it any more than you do, but it's part of our existence.
It's what we're for.
Mr Foyle, may I plead with you?
Colonel Wintringham...
How can I put this?
He overreaches himself.
He will not survive in his position for long, that I promise you.
Nor, perhaps, will I.
But we don't matter.
This organisation does.
You may doubt many things, but not the courage of these people,
what they're prepared to do for their country.
It was a mad scheme. We should never have considered it.
But have we done any great harm?
The Messingers have a right to know how their son died.
It would make them happier to know he died as the result of a mistake?
They might like to remember him as a war hero rather than a suicide.
Well, tell them.
But not yet.
Wait until the war's over. Give us our chance.
We've been fighting this war using conventional methods
and we're losing, Mr Foyle.
But I swear to you, one day, we will make a difference.
I won't lie for you.
I'm not asking you to do that.
I'm asking you to wait before you reveal the truth.
Did you know they were coming?
I invited them. They've come to collect William's things.
Sir Giles!
Ah, Miss Pierce.
Ah, Mr Foyle. What are you doing here?
I was just leaving, sir.
When you...visited my house,
you led me to believe there were certain circumstances
surrounding my son's death. That's right.
Is it true? Have you found something?
It seems I was misinformed.
You haven't heard the last of this, Foyle.
It seems to me you've grossly exceeded
the limits of your authority.
Percy Noble at the Admiralty was speaking to me about you.
You may put any idea of joining the service out of your mind.
You know, you can't really leave.
What do you mean?
Hastings.
What will we do without you?
I don't know.
We're a team, aren't we?
"All for one and one for all" or whatever.
Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.
Where did you get it?
I won the raffle.
Mr Rivers? Mm-hm.
I thought we'd have half each.
What a corker!
You are a dream.
Thanks.
So, you won't be leaving the police force, after all.
It seems so.
I'm very glad to have met you, Mr Foyle. Good luck.
Thank you.
Let's go. It's a long way back.
Goodbye, Uncle Aubrey.
Goodbye, Samantha. Take care. See you at Easter.