(music playing, crowd cheering)
(typewriter dings)
One word to anyone at all and we will hang.
Aafrin?
Hm?
Look at me.
However harsh this may seem, you have to remember,
in the end, our own happiness, our family's happiness...
It is nothing.
I know.
It has no value.
There can be no ties
you're not willing to cut.
I know.
Not your sister.
Not some sweetheart.
There's no one.
Sure?
No one at all?
I am here for you.
(chickens clucking)
(children laughing)
(men shout salute)
(whistle blows)
(keys clanging)
(shouting and laughing)
(whistle blows)
(women scream)
(keys clacking)
Run!
$3'
How are we, sir?
Would you leave us?
RALPH: Heart attack.
Christ.
Why throw an empty grenade at the Viceroy of India?
Do you have it?
Mm.
It's an old Mills Grenade.
They used them in the Great War.
Nothing in it.
Childish prank?
No, no.
Look at the timing.
Today in London, the mother of parliaments
is going to pass into law a government act
bringing historic reform to India.
New powers,
new responsibilities.
Whoever perpetrated this attack wants to make a splash.
They want to say to the world, "India rejects this bill".
"India wants freedom on her own terms
or not at all."
(mimics explosion)
RALPH: Who else knows about the grenade?
Very few of us.
Well, let's keep it that way.
RALPH: What about the boy who threw it?
RONNIE: Obligingly gave us the slip.
Oh, Christ.
RONNIE: Whoever did this, I swear to God we'll find him.
(birds chirping)
Here it is.
Cake for the king-- if he ever arrives, that is.
My goodness,
what a beauty!
Sham, candles!
Oh, where is she?
You will not believe it.
You're supposed to be helping.
The lady's come back.
What lady?
The one in the garden stealing all the flowers.
Not again!
Where are my slippers?
She can bring them all back.
But do you know what mummy said?
What if it's some local custom?
Fine, then let's all go
and steal from her garden. Sooni!
I'm sorry, baapi.
We cannot simply stand by
while some stranger empties the flowerbeds.
Quite right!
Shamshad, fetch my revolver.
Now, let's get you home.
(groans)
SARAH: We're off home in a few weeks.
My son Matthew,
he's back in England, you see,
in boarding school, for his education.
Ah, yes.
And another one on the way?
Yes, apparently.
Is that homemade?
Oh yeah, naturally.
(chuckles)
Would...
Would you care to try some?
Honestly, I thought you'd never ask!
SOONI: It's our pleasure.
Naturally.
SARAH: Ah!
BaapL
Oh, Aafrin!
Aafrin!
(laughing)
Look at you!
SHAMSHAD: So greasy and dark from the sun.
What about you, huh?
Shorter than ever.
DARIUS: Let battle commence!
When did you get to Simla?
Only now, this very hour.
Ma?
Where is she?
SOONI: Waiting all morning
at the railway station.
AAFRIN: Why?
To see you, nincompoop!
But I didn't... (sighs)
I didn't arrive by train.
And I can't stay for long.
Why didn't you tell us?
I should go.
Go, go.
Hello.
Hello!
SOONI: Wait, I'm coming with you.
SHAMSHAD: What about me?
(phone ringing faintly)
(bell rings)
I said don't touch!
(laughs)
Go on.
Put it on, go on.
(laughs)
Satisfied?
Shall we ring for tea?
(bell ringing) Sooni, stop it!
Don't take it off!
You need any assistance, sahib?
No, thank you, Manish.
SOONI: Tell me, uncle,
who else occupies this office?
No one but the sahib.
No one but the sahib!
Sooni, go!
I have to work.
I missed you!
Well, if that's how you show it,
I pity your husband, whoever he will be.
Oh, pardon me, your reverence!
I thought after two years in Bengal, you might be...
What?
Less of a stick in the mud.
You should have seen it, Sooni.
The way people are out there in the rice fields.
They're all thin as sticks.
Little children hungry,
with no hope except for more of the same.
And when the rains come down, whole villages washed away,
I thought...
Where is King and Empire for these lost souls?
Nowhere!
Not to be seen.
So why work for them?
Can you keep a secret?
Depends what it is.
In everything I do...
...I am your brother, and always will be.
What does that mean?
It means I missed you too.
I should think so.
Look at you, hm?
My pretty little sister!
Aafrin...
Aafrin!
One day, mummy's going to be planning
your nice big Parsi wedding!
And who are you getting married to, huh?
Are you deaf?
Quoits, Mr...
What's his name?
Balasubramanian, memsahib.
Yeah-- quoits.
You take the disk, like so,
and you spin or toss the disk...
What, 11 yards, club secretary?
11, yes, on the nose, as demonstrated,
onto a sort of spike
standing proud of the field of play.
CYNTHIA: Now you may very well say,
"What on earth is the use of such a game?"
But we do like our pastimes here at the club, Mr... what?
Balasubramanian.
Yeah.
So if you wish to apply, which is your Christian right,
we set a high bar, which some do find challenging.
Please, drink up.
CYNTHIA: God knows he's paying for it.
Right, now, where are we?
I believe it's coats of arms.
Coat of arms.
Kaiser?
Now, I'll need the name, county of provenance,
and an extra mark for the family motto.
Mr. Whelan.
Oh, at last.
Would you, club secretary?
RONNIE: My pleasure.
Thank you.
CYNTHIA: Oh! Poor chap.
How does one have a small heart attack?
Start with a small heart, I suppose...
I'm having a new hat made for the opening.
Do you want to see it?
Cynthia, will you listen to me?
Ralph, do you know,
when I heard he'd been taken ill,
my first reaction was...
...if the Viceroy were to, you know, shuffle off
into the next life now, would it be so dreadful?
I am rather fond of him.
Oh, no, of course you are!
But then I thought, "He may still be breathing,
but he can't very well carry on, can he?"
Heart giving out every time a small child
plays an amusing practical joke.
That's not quite how I would put it.
Take my advice.
When old Willingdon finally comes to...
There's no one he trusts like you.
No one.
So you look him straight in the eye
and you tell him,
"So glad you're well, sir, but listen to me.
"Hot summer ahead of us, empire in the balance.
"It is the right thing,
it is the proper thing,
to go home.
Go home now."
Enjoy his retirement,
lucky Chap!
Cynthia, I'm not going to...
He will do as you tell him.
And meanwhile,
London scratches its sorry skull.
"Hm, who've we got on the ground?
Ralph Whelan!
Fit as a flea, India's in his bones!
Who better for a smooth transition?"
You make it sound like a coup.
Oh...
Well, don't say it didn't occur to you.
It has, hasn't it?
This is your chance, my darling.
Viceroy of India one year early.
Take it, take it, take it.
I'll think about it.
You do that.
Oh, there's someone I have to meet,
but I need to be, uh...
...discreet.
Oh?
And who might this someone be?
I can't say.
Dirty dog.
I've seen the pair of you.
Go on, give her a wave.
I shan't look.
Will that do?
Don't worry, I won't say a word.
Still, that poor wife of yours...
Come on.
Now, I want you to guard this with your life.
What's this?
I keep a little room.
Very discreet.
(sighs)
MAN: Hello, Brute!
I thought you were drawing a cat?
Oh, don't tell me.
He ran off, the little rascal!
Which way did he go? Right there!
Oh, really?
Well, keep those peepers peeled
and let's see if we can't hunt him down.
Excuse me.
My name is Dalal, sir.
Mr. Whelan asked for me to come at once.
Did he indeed?
He is still living here, sir.
Look, if this is about money...
WOMAN: Wait, I'll be back in a minute.
Ah!
Here she is.
Sorry, I wasn't tired.
Miss Whelan.
MAN: Oh, uh, not anymore.
Her name is Mrs. Havistock.
What brings you out to India, sir?
I landed a job with Imperial Bank,
prospects fair to middling.
I thought, "Why not?"
Alice and I met the day I arrived in Bombay.
Can you believe it?
That is fortuitous.
Yes.
A quick wedding, no fuss.
As long as you're both happy.
We are.
Yes.
Very.
I suppose you're new to Simla?
No, I was here three years ago.
Ah.
Married?
Not at present.
RALPH: There he is!
Dalal!
Sir.
RALPH: Let's try that again,
shall we?
Dalal.
Whelan.
That's more like it.
And Mrs. Whelan.
Congratulations to you both.
My congratulations on your latest promotion.
Where are we now?
Home Department.
I am Under-Secretary.
I see you've met Charlie,
my brother-in-law?
Oh, he certainly has.
Sahib?
What's this?
Oh, it came about an hour ago.
From your little reporter friend.
Mr. Khan?
How odd.
MADELEINE: Ralph?
Somebody is trying to hurt us, Aafrin.
AAFRIN: My God.
RALPH: No, the pamphlet's all true.
May I, sir?
Yes, don't be afraid.
It's empty, thank Christ.
Not that the Viceroy knew it.
He must have had a wretched fright.
Worse than that: he had a heart attack.
What's the latest from the doctor?
No change.
Complete bed rest.
The fact is until now,
we've managed to keep this whole business
from seeing the light of day.
Naturally, that's the last thing the terrorists want.
We need to find the author of this scandal sheet.
Sir, I will do everything in my power.
Thank you.
Good.
They'll want to get this pamphlet
down to the plain,
so we'll need to stop the trucks.
I'll set up a checkpoint.
Would you issue an emergency notice
banning any distribution?
Right away.
On the usual grounds:
incitement to violence.
I'll head to the printers myself.
I can just as easily do that...
No, no, no need.
Good man.
What do we have here?
It's our new houseboy
from the mission school.
Adam-- the one you mentioned.
I had no idea he was starting so soon.
I hope you'll be very happy.
Thank you, sahib.
Aafrin... No.
There's no need to explain.
Now I can forget you.
It was nice to see you.
Your brother asked me to come.
Goodbye, Mrs...
What is it?
Havistock.
Yes, goodbye.
Come on, Muddle!
We're all waiting!
(upbeat music playing)
Enter the doomed Englishman!
What do we have here?
♫ I am the very model of a modern Major General ♫
♫ I've information vegetable, animal and mineral ♫
♫ I know the kings of England... ♫
No, no, no, this won't do.
♫ ...in order categorical ♫
How about "The Viceroy and Vicereine
are happy and rested in their beloved hills"?
You write that today.
Rebuff this nonsense.
And what about the grenade attack?
You'd trust some grubby scandal sheet
over the word of an Englishman?
Ah.
Googly.
Very nice.
Help me find our pamphleteer, will you?
Come on.
I got you your job,
I gave you that tie.
What more do you want?
My life is simple.
My needs are few.
That's right.
The village hermit
in his Savile Row suit.
The Viceroy has had a heart attack.
A heart attack? (laughs)
Where is the boy? Inside.
My God, what I would have given to see that!
AAFRIN: An old man is close to death and he's celebrating?
WOMAN: Aafrin, don't let him see your face!
If the Lat Sahib were dead, then I would celebrate.
Naresh...
And that little boy, he's a hero!
He throws a stone and brings down the giant!
We send a child to do our dirty work.
You think history will trumpet our name?
You think Krishna or Buddha will be lining up
to shake us all by the hand?
(Speaking Hindi indictinctly)
Aafrin, what are you...?
Aafrin!
(Speaking Hindi indisctinctly)
I hope your friend doesn't get us all killed!
What did you do that for?
We were going to send that boy in a day or two.
Kaira, something happened.
What did you do?
This.
They're going to interview
the fellows at the printing press.
Yes, but you spoke to the old ink wallah,
as agreed.
Yes, but as I was leaving...
I don't know how it happened.
There was another man, the owner of the place...
Please tell me he didn't see your face.
Aafrin!
Help me.
Parsi, come with me, "jaldi" (quickly)
You can help me dig!
He says he didn't deal with the man himself.
So who did?
Anyone?
Huh?
Silence.
Very good, very good.
You tell him he knows the laws
regarding seditious material as well as I do.
(Speaking Hindi) You do understand (the laws)...
Now, these printing wheels will stand idle
until you give me an answer.
Who gave you this document?
Somebody must have seen him.
Somebody took his money!
Please, "boliye"! (speak up!)
I may have seen
as the gentleman was leaving, sahib.
Young or old?
Young man, sahib.
Indian fellow.
What else?
A British suit, same like yours.
A young Indian man in a British suit.
Mr. Khan here?
No, he was not Muslim, sahib.
Hindu, naturally?
Not Hindu either?
You think, or you know?
I am thinking not Hindu, sahib.
How can you tell?
It is simply a feeling.
(panting)
Here.
Open it.
What do you think, Parsi?
I think you're out of your mind.
Out of my mind?
Very nice.
You know why I have this box?
Don't tell me.
My father.
He was a sepoy.
Blown to bits in the trenches of Ypres.
You know that...
One-and-a-half million Indian soldiers
fighting a British war for nothing.
Where did you get it?
No, no, no!
The real question is,
what are we going to do with it?
What?
Look.
You see?
The Ogre's Castle!
It just sits there!
It has a quality of magic, no?
Naresh-da, you know that I am your friend and ally, yes?
And God knows I want the same freedom you do.
But this?
This is not the way!
No, it's the only way.
You think I'm going to just sit by and watch
while you blow this thing up?
No, you're not going to sit by.
You-- you are the trusted babu!
You are the key
to this whole action.
No.
This time, you work alone.
Don't say that, Parsi.
You want me to finish off your precious Baapi?
The war hero?
You come anywhere near my father and I'll...
What?!
I'll kill you!
(Spits)
(laughing)
See?
You do have it in you, Parsi!
(laughing)
Plenty of courage!
Plenty of pluck!
This is our great war, little brother.
We are going to kill that damn Viceroy.
We are going to blow them all up
until it is raining hands and feet.
Hands and bloody feet!
And your family?
They will be safe.
As long as you play your part.
Now help me bury this bomb.
ROSHANA: Does he seem different, would you say?
I should say so.
I mean, two years of hard work
in the heat and humidity of Bengal?
Of course he's different.
He's smoking now.
Really?
I smelled it on his collar.
He has gone,
and we are still the same.
Dalal!
Progress?
The pamphlets have been impounded, sir.
Only one batch made it past the checkpoint.
I fear it's on its way down to the plains.
We'll be ready for it in Delhi.
Sir, did you speak to the printer?
Yes.
And?
A young Indian man in a British suit.
Well, Simla has its fair share of those.
I dare say.
Myself included.
Dalal, your shoes.
Uh... yes.
My sister was showing me our new rose bed.
I'm no gardener, as you can imagine.
Parsi.
Sir?
Neither Hindu or Muslim.
Do you think people can tell what a man is at a glance--
Hindu, Mohammedan, and so on?
I suppose, if there's some outward sign.
Why do you ask?
My brother-in-law took you for a thief.
I don't care for him myself,
but perhaps he's right.
Perhaps you are a thief.
Or worse.
Hm?
Am I being accused of some crime, Whelan?
You tell me.
Hm?
Are you heading over to the office?
Yes.
Good.
"My arithmetic was satis."
Satis!
It's Latin.
It means my son is very clever.
He did jolly well, yes.
Go on.
"I scored another try..."
Bravo!
". "For third XV"
SARAH: XV?
Yes, "Chhota" (Little) Matthew?
15!
Progress!
Something's gone in at last!
Third 15 at rugger.
WOMAN: "But we lost the match."
Oh, never mind.
Yes, what?
Why is it third 15?
Well, there's a second and a first and so on.
They're very much of a muchness.
But third is generally regarded as top.
Here.
"Muggers says I'm going to have a topping scar
after the last game."
Oh dear, I hope not.
"Thank you for the woolly vest."
Yes.
"It is very good.
Your son, Matthew."
Auntie, we had that letter before.
Yes, and you're still as rusty as ever, misery guts.
Now, fetch the ball.
DOUGIE: Right here.
How long have you been there?
Roopah, you'll be Muggers.
Hup!
Go on, off you go!
Come!
Not many of them left now.
We said bye to Adam this morning.
Eight down, six to go.
They're not numbers, Sarah.
No.
And I'm sure you'll find good homes for them all.
I came back for you, remember?
Not every wife would have done the same
with that woman.
And now we've got this.
And I can't have it here.
I'm not going through all that again.
It's not safe.
So you said.
This is my school.
It's not easy, letting go.
Yes, I know.
But we'll go home.
We'll start again-- I'll help.
(faint voices)
(door opens)
I spoke to Her Royal Highness today.
Cynthia?
Mm.
And?
She says,
"Send him home."
The Viceroy.
She seems to think I could be in with a shot now,
a year ahead of time.
And what do you think?
Am I ready?
Of course you're ready.
No, but are they ready for me?
My kind.
Your What?
I'm ordinary.
I'm an ordinary man from a perfectly ordinary family
stuck out in the East.
How could I ever hope to reach the top?
The whole thing is risible.
It's a joke.
There is such a thing as merit.
Oh, that stuff will only get you so far in this world.
It's not going to be straightforward.
So much the better.
Keep Willingdon in place to take the heat
if you screw up.
Stay close enough to reap the reward
if you succeed.
Anyway, you decide.
It's all a game, right?
You're turning into Cynthia.
Really?
See, she can't do that.
I wouldn't put it past her.
(laughing)
(knocking)
From Mr. Ronnie Keane, sahib.
Ah.
Thank you.
I have to go.
See you at the club.
(rain pouring, thunder rumbling)
Are you with us?
Sir?
Listen, I just wanted to thank you
for your help today.
Well, I did What I could.
Yes, you did.
Not every man I can trust.
You'd be surprised.
The disappointment.
Someone you believed in
and turned to.
Hm?
Someone you thought you knew.
Aafrin, can I share something with you in confidence?
Of course.
I've got him.
Really?
(laughs)
Oh, I'm this close.
That is good news.
Have you made an arrest?
Not yet.
Tonight.
You sure you're all right?
Perfectly.
The sooner you catch him,
the better.
See you up at the club.
We'll be expecting you.
So, what do you think?
Colorfull and jingoistic.
What's the latest on the Viceroy?
Still living, memsahib.
Half-baked terrorists.
I tell you, if you're going to do a job...
You see, I would leave nothing to chance.
Garrote him in his bath, boil up a bit of arsenic...
Yeah, that's it.
I'd make a nice little jelly out of it for him.
Plenty of sugar, dash of cinnamon...
Do you think this is a bit, I don't know, top-heavy?
Not if you remain very still.
Eh...
A lot to celebrate tonight.
As long as my Ralphie does as he's jolly well told.
Silly boy.
(lock creaking)
(chimes ringing)
Who knows I'm here?
Not a soul, I swear to God.
Now look, I know this can't be easy for you,
but we want to help with your situation.
Yes, you always do.
He's well?
Your son, Tahir?
He's alive.
How old is he now?
What do you want?
One question.
A man walked into the printer's.
This man as good as murdered
the Viceroy.
A young Indian man in a British suit.
And?
I want his name.
No.
Fair enough, fair enough.
To be honest, we think we may have the man responsible.
I just need you to confirm it.
I can't tell you.
It's all right.
You don't need to say a word.
I'm going to give you a name,
and if it's our man, you just leave.
Leave now.
Is that clear?
Name?
Aafrin Dalal.
(applause)
Now, everyone!
Regrettably, His Excellency the Viceroy has been delayed...
CROWD: Aw!
...on account of hay fever!
That's all!
The Vicereine's, not his!
"Achoo!"
(laughing)
So, without further ado,
I declare the new members' library open!
(applause)
(music playing)
Kaiser, scissors!
(camera flashbulb clicks)
No, wait, everybody, please.
Wait, wait!
(bird chirping)
(laughter)
Kaira.
I was seen!
Who saw you? The printer!
He came to my work, do you understand?
He came with bloody Ronnie Keane from Intelligence!
What did you tell them?
I said nothing. It's fine.
It's fine, then.
Are you joking?
Kaira, this is it.
This is the end of it.
I have to get out of here!
Aafrin, you have to carry on as if nothing has happened.
You can't give up.
You are one of them now.
It's too late.
Where is it? What?
I know you have it here somewhere, give it to me.
What is it, Aafrin?
Give it to me!
Aafrin!
That damned cyanide pill, where is it?!
If I'm to be arrested, I have to have something.
I have to be sure I can get out of this,
do you understand?
What are you going to do?
I have to go to the Club.
Why?
I'm expected.
Aafrin...
Aafrin, please promise you're not going to take this.
Please.
This one is from the widow of a Colonel Cardew.
Marriage proposal?
No, not quite.
But she has knitted you a lovely pair of socks.
Brava, Mrs. Cardew.
You know, my boy, I feel at a loss.
Sitting in that car, I wondered,
"Is it time for me to go?"
Sir, I'm glad you're well again.
But now this bill has finally passed into law,
we've got a hot summer ahead of us.
A defining season, if you like.
Yes?
I believe it would be the right thing--
the responsible thing-- for you to...
...stay firm.
(sighs)
This is your moment, sir.
This is your chance to make a dent in history.
It won't be easy, I grant you,
but it's within our grasp, sir.
Yes.
Show India that her future is safer in British hands.
And who better to accomplish that than you?
What a climax to your career.
I dare say Whitehall will look very gladly
on your own contribution.
Well, I'm hardly the issue here.
Oh, rot.
The sky's the limit, Whelan.
With your brain, your compassion...
You're sounding fit!
Oh, I'm rather worn out.
Do you think you can stand?
I shouldn't think so.
Why? Are we off?
If you can manage it.
Nothing like a show of strength
to put those doubters to the sword.
Steady as she goes.
♫ ...there wasn't any room for me to ride! ♫
♫ Oh, my old man said follow the van ♫
♫ And don't dilly-daily on the way ♫
♫ Off went the cart with me home packed in it... ♫
(faint singing)
♫ But I dillied and dallied, I dallied and I dillied ♫
♫ Lost the van and don't know where to roam... ♫
RALPH: That's right, sir.
Nearly there.
Yes, yes.
♫ ...can't find your way, can't find your way home! ♫
(applause)
Well done, Ronnie!
Thank you!
Oh, here he is!
("God Save the Queen" playing on piano)
(applause)
Your Excellency!
Such an honour.
You're well, I hope?
Ready for battle, Mrs. Coffin!
RALPH: Mr. Khan
of the Simla Times. Your Excellency.
A photograph, if you will.
(flashbulb clicks)
Thank you.
A toast, if I may,
to the evolving story of our two great nations
for many years to come.
Hear, hear.
(music playing)
Excuse me.
Well, as long as you know what you're doing.
You and the wife.
Don't be jealous.
You just don't get it.
What if this was your moment?
What if this was your chance?
You know, I actually don't want this.
Oh, not to worry.
Would you have it?
What?
Be a sport, go on.
I hate brandy.
Oh, go on, drink up,
or they'll think I'm terribly rude.
I don't...
Just drink.
Christ sake, Alice, go on.
Drink, drink, drink.
There we go.
There we go, down the hatch.
That's it.
Mummy!
Happy?
Percy!
Come here.
Here we go, atta boy!
Do you know what?
(sniffs)
I think Muddle's drunk again.
Aren't you, Muddle?
Let's pretend that We don't know her,
in case she's sick on our nice new shoes.
Aafrin?
Your mother's looking for you.
Come.
Baapi, wait.
If anything should happen tonight, I...
What is it, my boy?
Nothing.
Good.
Head held high, like so.
What are you two doing here?
Come on inside.
(music playing)
You met him in Bombay?
No.
He's Percy's father.
My same old, dear old husband
I married when I was 17 and stupid.
Everyone up here thought I was a widow,
so we put it about we only just met
when he first got out here.
It's all rubbish, but he loves to rake it up
just to remind me what a fool I am.
Now I know why you stopped writing to me.
I tried.
I tried writing.
I didn't know where to begin.
In your last letter, you said...
You promised you would wait for me.
I had no choice.
It was either go home or give up my son to the courts.
Anyway, you were off in Bengal, weren't you?
Doing such marvellous things, like men all do.
You have no idea what my life was.
Besides, I didn't wait for you either.
I have another life now.
So much the better.
Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Havistock.
I dreaded seeing you.
I mean, I wanted to, but I dreaded it.
I dreaded it.
That horribly disappointed look.
Yeah-- there it is.
Just like clockwork.
Shut up.
Oh, God.
What a waste.
What a mess.
What a muddle.
Stop it. Muddle!
Now just go to hell.
There he is.
Ah, just the man.
Aafrin.
Our mysterious Indian in a British suit.
The pamphleteer.
Now, there was a fellow at the printing press...
I won't bore you with the details.
For one awful moment,
he seemed to think that you were our man.
Really?
Yes.
Though he also identified...
...about a dozen other members of the administration!
I say we have a whip-round!
Buy the old bugger a pair of spectacles!
ROWNTREE: Right, tear the place apart.
Come on, hurry up, then!
Keep looking!
Hurry UP!
Thank God I received new intelligence.
Reliable intelligence.
You didn't half have us on our toes, old munshi!
You found the culprit?
Oh yes, we hope to smoke him out tonight.
ROWNTREE: Banerjee!
That's him!
(whistle blowing)
(shouting)
Memsahib...
(whispering)
...Miss Alice.
(Gunshot)
My old friend.
How could I ever have doubted you?
It's quite all right, sir.
No.
But we can put all this behind us, can we?
I hope so.
Well, butter wouldn't melt.