- Mayfield? - Sir George.
Show me.
- It better be good. - Too good for His Majesty government,
if you ask me.
You expect too much from the Defense Committee.
So, this is it at last, is it?
- The Mayfield Kestrel. - Until we can think of a better name.
Petroleum jelly, Hastings, that is the secret.
You rub it well in, and it will prevent the cracking, yes?
How do you work out cubic things?
- Comment? - The cubic thing, how do you work it out?
I mean, this ceiling is what? Ten feet up, yes?
- So, do you multiply ten ...? - Hastings.
I am trying to instruct you in the care of leather.
Something that will be of use to you in later life.
So will cubic equations. Supose I had to survey to something or someone?
You do not deceive me, Hastings.
You're having this eccentric thoughts because of this girl of yours, uh?
This student of architecture.
Well, we never seem to have anything to talk about.
I tried reading a book about Bernini.
She's very keen on Bernini. I couldn't understand it.
No, no. Women do not wish to talk about Bernini and cubic thingamies.
I don't know if she wants to talk about anything.
She is never in, when I call to see her.
I end up having tea with her mother everyday.
- How is it compared to the Messerschmitt 109? - More maneuverable.
Makes a rotative circle at 800 feet. The visibility is better too.
- Fuel injection? - No.
Pity. The Prime minister is very keen of fuel injection.
He's right, but we just haven't got a reliable system yet.
There's a lady who keeps telephoning, Mr. Poirot.
Sacré! What a terrible circumstance.
There's no need to be sarcastic, Mr. Poirot.
I was going to say that I didn't put her through to you, because she won't give her name.
I told her you won't take anonymous phone calls.
But I do. Sometimes, I think anonymous phone calls are the only ones worth taking.
But how will I know where to file her, if I won't get her name?
Life first, Miss Lemon. Filing, second.
Very well, then. Next time she calls, I'll let her talk to you.
And on your head own be it!
It's like a solid wall of lead, 2 feet square,
coming straight at you.
The main stringer must be tremendously strong,
to support the strength of g-forces of that turning circle.
And the recoil from the guns.
It's built in layers so that the whole thing acts like a giant spring,
and we're still improving on it, too.
But I cannot go on pouring my own money into the Kestrel forever.
You seem not to understand the position the Defense Commitee is in, Mayfield.
They like you. Most of them are 100% behind you.
But that Japanese business nearly brought the government down.
One more scandal like that...
There are no more scandals like that. You saying they don't trust me?
- It's not a question of trust. - Yes, it is.
Very well then, if they want me to prove to them that they can trust me,
that's what I'll do. - How do you mean? How do you do that?
I've invited Mrs. Vanderlyn on, for the weekend.
Mrs. Vanderlyn? Are you mad?
You've invited her down here?
And before the weekend is out, I promise you I'll have hooked her,
reeled her in and gaffed her.
How?
By using the plans of the Kestrel as a bait.
You idiot! You can't be using top secret documents like that!
This is madness!
Hercule Poirot's residence.
Yes...
What name is it, please?
Hold on one moment, please.
It's your anonymous caller again.
She's calling herself Miss Smith, this time, but it's her.
- Put her through, Miss Lemon. - Yes, Mr. Poirot.
Are you still there?
Mr. Poirot will speak to you now.
- Allo? - Mr. Poirot?
Yes, Miss Smith?
I need to meet with you. This is a national emergency.
No, no, I can't come there.
Somewhere where nobody will know us.
I'm sure that can be arranged, mademoiselle. Where do you suggest?
Mr. Poirot.
You are not Miss Smith.
- Yes, I am. - Where is your green carnation?
I wanted time to study you. Besides, green doesn't suit me.
I was carrying my Times.
These arrangements, once made, should be obeyed, Miss Smith.
This is so difficult!
- My husband... - Yes?
My husband has invited a woman to stay this weekend at our house.
Non, Miss Smith, go no further.
Poirot does not handle this type of work.
No, no! You don't understand. This is a dangerous woman.
I know that a man as distinguished in his field as you are,
wouldn't handle sordid domestic cases.
There is much more at stake, here.
I see.
- My name is not really Miss Smith. - I am astounded.
My name is Mayfield. Lady Margaret Mayfield.
- And who is Lord Mayfield? - There isn't one.
I am only Mrs. Mayfield, really but my father was an Earl.
And who is this dangerous woman you talk about?
Mrs. Joanna Vanderlyn.
Mrs. Vanderlyn is rumoured to have pro-German sympathies.
There was a scandal two years ago, with the young marquis of Lowestoft.
He shot himself.
Ah, yes! I remember.
- Mrs. Vanderlyn was involved? - Yes.
It was thought that he passed on to her certain secret information.
- I did not know that. - It was kept hushed up as much as possible.
His regiment had been involved in testing the Galahad tank.
And you think that ...?
My husband is engaged in a lot of projects
that are crucial for the future of this country.
If an enemy should gain access...
Surely you do not suspect your husband of treason?
Of course not.
But the government has treated him very badly, ever since that Japanese business.
You must have read about it.
Even though his name was cleared, they still don't give him the backing he needs.
Bitterness may make him less careful than he should be.
Please, help me, Mr. Poirot. There is so much at stake for England.
- Good evening, Lady Carrington. - Hello, Dawson. Where is everybody?
In the lower terrace, Lady Carrington.
We can only put our trust in the League of Nations and pray for peace.
Isn't that a rather peculiar thing for an arms manufacturer to do, sir?
What did Beverly Nichols call you, sir? " Merchant of Death? "
Mr. Mayfield is an arms manufacturer, James
because this particular game can only be played from strength.
Quite right, Sir George.
Oh, sorry, Dad, didn't realize it was all a game.
Where has the vaguer Mrs. Vanderlyn gone to, I wonder.
I have no idea. Should've got by hours ago.
- You've met her before? - Once, I was a child.
- Please. - She's a daughter of H. K. Griffin,
man used to be American ambassador over here.
Apparently we all have to be very nice to the Americans these days,
ready if/when the war starts.
Ah! Mother's finally arrived.
All these exciting people. I wasn't warned there would be a route.
Isabel, I'm so glad you could come.
I'm just sorry I'm terribly late.
Will I be completely deterred if I'm not changed?
- You'll be the talk of Steeple Bumpstead. - Oh God, I wouldn't want that.
- Did you have a good travel, darling? - Lovely, George.
The A-11 is particularly enthralling in this time of year. Hello, Tommy.
- May I introduce Mr. Hercule Poirot. - How nice to meet you.
- Foreign, yes? - I...
You'll soon pick up our little ways.
Talking of which...
Oh!! How English!
How very, very English.
We've got some very American dry Martinis mixed, if you'd like one.
That would be wonderful.
The problem of the Foreign Office is very likely the protocol,
and if the PM of Timbuctu has precedence over the king of Ongo Bongo.
And very short on what Winnie describes as " intestinal fortitude".
I'm sure that's not true of your Foreign Secretary.
Good, I must bend before your superior knowledge, Mrs. Vanderlyn.
I'm sure you know Mr. Eden much better than us, humble souls, uh?
I wouldn't say that, but when I had lunch with him yesterday,
he was saying more or less the same as you
about the Foreign Office's passion for protocol.
No, thank you.
I refuse to let men waste their time drinking Port,
when there's bridge to be played.
You see what sort of a woman she is?
The sort of a woman she is,
does not make matters of national importance.
I do hope you're right,
Monsieur Poirot.
Actually, the whole European situation is a lot like a bridge game, at the moment.
On the one hand, we have the diminutive Führer
on the other hand signor Mussolini,
the bulfrog of the Pontine Marshes.
In the end, they will both need taking down a pig or two.
And what about the emperor Hirohito, sir? Will he need taking down a pig?
What did he say?
Has he said something nasty again? He's such a little snort, aren't you, darling?
Tommy is working too hard.
- He believes we're on the brink of war. - And he can stop it single-handed?
Something like that.
The truth is that he can do more than most people.
A little slam, I think.
- Congratulations, partner. - Aren't you going to give us our revenge?
No, George and I have work to do, I'm affraid.
The plans are ready for you, sir.
We'll join you in a minute. Come on, George. If you'll excuse us.
I will take a promenade in the garden before turning in.
It will clear my brain.
You might have done that before we played cards.
Madame is too agreable. Good night.
There you are, my friend.
Why can't I stay at the house? That's what I wanted to know.
First, Hastings, you were not invited.
- A pure oversight. - Second,
I need you to stay incognito, and very nearby.
- Incognito is gone, for a start. - Why is that?
The pub's so crowded I'm naving to share a room,
and you'll never guess who with.
- No, Hastings, I will not. - Japp.
With the Chief-Inspector Japp?
And the room has only got one bed.
I wonder why the Chief-Inspector is here?
You're not very sympathetic.
We all have our troubles, Hastings.
I would rather share a bed
with Chief-Inspector Japp and three of his sargents,
than to be partner of bridge with the Lady Carrington.
Yes, I've been hearing about her for the chauffeur.
Apparently Sir George is trying her to give up cards altogether.
Yes. Well, I am very pleased to hear it, mon ami.
She plays abominably.
No, but she loses a lot of money at it.
She's heavily indebted to money landers.
Really...
Hastings, try to find out for me, if you please,
who asked Japp to be here. That is most interesting.
- Good night, mother. - Good night, darling.
What do you think of this idea of detecting aircafts
by radio echoes?
It's doable. We put a certain amount of money into recept.
- How much money? - Not goin' to tell you that.
- Oh, hello! I just came in to fetch my bag. - Wouldn't mind to ask.
- Good night, again. - Good night.
Having that woman here was a mistake, Mayfield.
No matter what your intentions are. Do you no good.
Do me a great deal of good,
when I put her away for good into Holloway prison.
That's all nonsense. All this talk of catching her.
- What was that? - What?
Someone run accross the terrace, there.
I didn't see anything. Anyway, how do you intend to trap her?
I'm sure I saw something.
Why do politicians treat everyone else like idiots?
Probably because they made us vote for them in the first place.
I've laid everything out in the desk, sir.
- Will you want me anymore tonight? - No, we'll probaly be late.
You might as well turn in.
- I'll put these away in the safe. - Right.
- Good night, Mr. Mayfield, Sir George. - Just a minute.
You forgot the most important paper.
I don't think so, sir.
Sheet number three.
The mathematics from the aluminium stressing.
I put it on the top.
But it isn't here.
I do not understand. I put it here, I know it.
Then, you must have made a mistake. It must still be in the safe.
No, I put it there.
I looked for it particularly, and put it on the top.
You mean it already has gone?
- Who's been in this room? - No one at all.
Well, it cannot just have vanished into thin air. Someone must have taken it.
Can Poirot be of assistance?
Finding the lost property is something of a profession of mine.
- What is missing? - This is a matter of national security.
I think we should alert Inspector Japp.
Telephone him at the Three Crowns, would you, Mr. Carlile?
Where does that door lead?
- Voilà! - This wasn't meant to happen.
- But it was. You said... - Not like this.
She's turned the tables on us.
Oh my God, I knew it!
I knew it.
I told you not to play with fire. What am I gonna tell the PM?
Nothing for the moment. We mustn't panick.
I'm damned, if that woman will dare to get away with it.
Mr. Mayfield, forgive me, I do not wish to intrude into their secrets,
but, please, can you give me some idea what is on the paper?
I don't know how closely you follow international events, Mr. Poirot,
but Germany has just announced that she has priority with England in the air.
- I understand. - What that means is that piece of paper
is be perhaps our only chance
of keeping our civilian population safe from aerial attack. Am I exaggerating?
- Not a jot. - So, it is a technical breakthrough, uh,
and what a considerable amount of money? - Oh! Money doesn't enter into it.
Well, it might with some people and in certain quarters.
- Traitors, you mean. - Indeed.
But anyone, me included,
could knock on the door on German embassy, and when I come out I could be a rich man,
if it had these papers? - Certainly.
Mr. Carlile, before I went for my walk in the garden,
you volunteered to get the papers ready in here?
- Yes. - And shortly after that,
everyone else went upstairs to prepare for bed?
I presume so, I don't know.
Yes, they did.
Mrs. Vanderlyn came down again.
- Indeed? - That's right. She'd forgotten her bag.
Ah! The old scene. Non, non, pardon, the old trick.
To return for something you say you have forgotten.
Quite.
Mr. Carlile,
after you had opened the safe and got out the papers,
did you leave the study again, even for a moment?
No, not for a second.
So, everyone else were upstairs, preparing for the bed,
except Mrs. Vanderlyn, who came down for her bag
and, yet, the plans are stolen.
Mr. Carlile,
do you still want to say you did not leave the study?
I don't know what this all is about, Poirot.
Carlile has been my confidential secretary for nine years.
He has access to all my private papers.
He could've mady a copy of that sheet any time he liked, with no one being aware.
Why would he need to stage a rather clumsy robbery?
Thank you, Mr. Mayfield. If Mr. Poirot has any suspicions,
I should like my belongings searched. - Non, non, Mr. Carlile, I cast no suspicions.
It is a small problem, merely.
But a problem that will agitate the little grey cells
most adequatly.
With Carlile on guard all the time, I don't see how anyone would enter that room.
Yes, it is no use run into conclusions, Mr. Mayfield.
It was from there that you saw Mrs. Vanderlyn in here?
A little further back, I think.
From where I was in the garden, I could see that the dining room was in darkness.
But it would've been quite possible for someone to use those doors
to get out on the terrace,
and from there into the study.
I told you I thought I saw something.
- Right, George. You did. - There. Across the lawn,
to a waiting car. It must miles away, by now.
No, no, no. The one way through the garden would have taken him directly past me.
- Ahh! What's going on? - Get back to bed, Reggie.
So, an interesting situation.
The only person who could possibly have stolen those most important papers,
is one of us.
Or Mrs. Vanderlyn.
Good night, Mr. Mayfield, Sir George, Poirot.
- What's all this about a theft? - A very important secret paper
has been stolen from my study, Chief-Inspector.
Right. Lads, fan out. Wittaker, take the north end of the house.
Dobson, the upstairs landing. Beales, the servants quarters .
It is not, perhaps, as simple as that, mon ami.
Whoever stole this paper, will not leave it lying around, where we will find it.
Leave this to the professionals, Poirot.
Missing documents are everyday occurrence to my lads.
- I'll bet. - And who might you be?
- His son. - Thought I told you to get to bed.
Sorry, Chief-Inspector. It's all perfectly simple.
- You see, we know who stole those papers. - Indeed?
- George, I don't think we should... - A guest in this house,
a Mrs. Vanderlyn. - Really?
- Well... - So, I suggest that we go sraight up there and...
Pardon me for asking, sir, but how precisely do we know this Mrs....
Vanderlyn.
' can't go into details now. Matter of national security.
- All you've got to do... - George, I don't know if this is a good idea.
Sorry, Mayfield. I know it's your house and all that sort of thing,
but it's my decision now. Come on, Japp.
- Mrs. Vanderlyn. - What is it?
This is Sir George Carrington. I have the police with me.
What do you want?
I'd like you to get dressed, Mrs. Vanderlyn, and accompany me to the local police station.
- What are you talking about? - If you just get dressed, ma'am.
Damned if I will! What for?
Some papers have been stolen from Mr. Mayfield's study, Mrs Vanderlyn.
- And? - If you could just get dressed, Mrs. Vanderlyn.
Did tou plan this, Mr. Mayfield?
I'll get dressed.
You join us at the station, Mr. Mayfield?
Must be here! Must be.
Where did she hid it, Mr. Poirot? You're used to this sort of thing.
She's got it with her. That's what is is! They'll find it when they search her.
Let's imagine you're a woman, Poirot.
- By all means, Sir George. If that will help you. - Right.
You're a woman, you're in a strange household. You steal some papers.
Where would you hide them?
Sir George, there is one thing in all this that I do not understand.
- Continue. - I demonstrated, quite conclusively, I think,
that of of all the people in the house, only you, Mr. Mayfield,
Mr. Carlile and myself, could possibly have stolen those papers, yes?
- Right. - And yet, you go on talking,
as if Mrs. Vanderlyn was without doubt the criminal.
What? Oh, yes.
That sort of thing is all very good, but it's completely theory, isn't it?
We're practical folk here, Poirot.
Yes.
Nothing, sir.
- It's not in her room. - She hasn't got it on her, either.
- This is a disaster, Mayfield. - She must have hidden it somewhere,
to collect it later. - The "froggy" thinks she didn't do it.
The "froggy" knows she didn't do it.
Anywhere you see the dust was moved, let me know.
Just one sheet of paper we're looking for, remember? It can be anywhere.
It's covered there.
Poirot, my dear fellow, I promise you I never heard anything like it.
Do you know those boots he wears? Bang! And the other one? Crash!
- When he finally gets into bed, it's worse. - Worse?
He talks in his sleep. " Now I've caught you, young fellow, me lad. "
" Japp of the Yard strikes again! "
I thought I'd go mad.
Everytime I manage to drop off,
he started dhouting: " Stand back, lads. He's got a blancmange! "
Some of the things he was saying would make a cat laugh.
I can't take much any more of it, Poirot.
I've been through three days of a true Hell.
Where is he now?
Gone back up to the house.
By the way, I found out who asked him down. It was Sir George.
- Not Monsieur Mayfield? - Apparently not.
Bon, just as I thought.
- What happened about Mrs. Vanderlyn? - She is leaving this morning in a great huff.
In fact, the whole house is quite deserted.
Lady Carrington and Reggie left after breakfast.
- Hastings, I want to ask you something. - Ask away.
Last night at dinner, one of the guests said something to Mr. Mayfield,
about Japan. What is it about Japan, Hastings?
Well, this is a few years years back,
when the Japs decided to invade Manchuria.
The press got hold of something about Mayfield's company supplying them artillery,
they were bombing Shangai with.
Turns out eventually that the press had got hold of the wrong end of the stick, as per usual.
But by that time, there'd been questions in parliament and God knows what,
and a lot of the mud stuck.
- Hastings, I must go back to the house. - Give me half a second and I'll drive you.
I wanted to change the plugs this morning. I thought I'd do it up there.
No, no. I need to walk,
and to think.
Mrs. Vanderlyn.
- You left this. - Thank you.
Dixon!
Post this for her, will you? She'd only forget.
- Yes, she's definitely running ridge. - Yeah, let's have a look at the carb.
Hastings...
No more tinkering, we are going to follow Mrs. Vanderlyn.
But I've got the plugs out. I will take me an hour to get them back.
Oh, no! Mon Dieu.
Viens, Hastings. Allons-y!
I'm assuming they're heading for the London road.
There, look!
We must not let them see us, Hastings.
- We get to move on, John? - Yes, ma'am.
- Damn! - What is it?
- They should have turned left on the A-11. - Why is that, Hastings?
Because that's the road to London. Where are they going, then?
Get the map out of the pocket bag.
Hold tight.
We're on that road here.
No. They mean anything to you?
No.
Perhaps where they're going it's not on the main road.
Look at the villages along the side of the road.
No.
A fellow I knew in the front had a place in Trocking.
Right next door to the German ambassador's country house.
- Hastings... - My God.
- Can we get there before them? - We can have a good damn try!
- Where it is?! - I don't know.
It was in the salvo in the hall. Dawson put it there.
Seems just have disappeared.
God! Can nothing go right?
Good God, Poirot.
Yes, Hastings. We have seen enough. Come, my friend.
I wouldn't have thought of it hidden it there, sir.
- You got any better suggestion, constable? - No, sir.
Poirot!
You have to trust me, Margaret.
I do trust you, Tommy.
- Everything you worked for is at stake, though. - It'll be all right.
Who is it?
Bonjour.
What do you want, Mr. Poirot?
I have come back to say that the plans were safely delivered.
- Delivered? - To the German ambassador.
I'm sure that Herr von Eckendorrf was very pleased.
- Tommy, what are we are going to do? - Also, Lady Margaret,
I found this, from one of your guests
seems it needed to be posted. - Give me that.
I do not want to read it.
The address is probably of a ciggaret shop or a news-agent, Mr. Mayfield?
From where you can collect at your leisure? - No need to go into that, Mr.Poirot.
Let the sleeping dogs lie.
No, no, Mr. Mayfield. Between the husband and the wife there should be no "sleepy dogs".
I do not wish to read a letter of one of my guests.
Really?
Suppose I tell you that this was written by Mrs. Vanderlyn?
And that I guarantee that you would not understand a word of it?
- They are in Chinese. - Japanese.
But Tom's signature at the bottom.
This is the the one piece of evidence that ties your husband to the selling of arms to Japan.
Somehow, it had fallen into the hands of the Germans.
These were the two pieces of paper that Mrs. Vanderlyn was using to blackmail him.
She said, however, she'd exchange them for the plans of the Kestrel.
Tom...
If you were seen to handle those to Mrs. Vanderlyn,
you would be ruined, anyway.
So, it had to look as if somebody had stolen them,
and altough he tried to convince us that he saw this mysterious figure on the terrace,
it was Mr. Mayfield himself who stole those plans. It was the safest way.
And they were securely in his pocket
throughout the whole farce of Mrs. Vanderlyn arrest.
And you keep saying everything will be alright.
It will, darling. You...
Let me pass. Had enough of this, Mayfield.
What's going on? I've been kept totally in the dark.
Non, non, non! Sir George,
- The Germans have got the missing papers. - What?
And you, Mr. Carlile, I imagine you know this, as well as anyone.
The German High-command has now plans of our new fighter,
on which they'll have to waste six months of concentrated effort,
before they realize that they were sold a pup.
Pup? Pup? What's a pup?
A little dog, Sir George.
Little dog? Oh, a pup!
Oh, sold a pup!
The plans were doctored.
The maths doesn't make any sense. But it will take them a long work to find that out.
Good God, you cunning old devil.
Tommy!
Tommy, darling.
It "goes against the grain" to let the Vanderlyn woman let go free.
She will pay eventually, mon ami.
For the moment, let her enjoy what she thinks is her triumph.
If you ask me, it just shows the dangers of meeting anonymous women at the zoo.
- In you get, Japp. - Lady Margaret got what she wanted, anyway.
Her and Mayfield are all "lovey-dovey" again.
It must be depressing for you, when this sort of thing happens, hey, Poirot?
What sort of thing?
Well, everything working out for the best,
some married couple ready for a second honeymoon,
or orphan children reunited with their parents...
Yes, it is hard.
But we must put on it the brave face, uh?
And not allow cheerfulness to keep breaking through.
Drive on, Hastings.
Translation & resync by titta for Addic7ed.com