Murder Ahoy

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Miss Jane Marple, gentlemen.

- Oh, my dear Miss Marple.

- How do you do, Bishop?

- Now this is your chair.

- Thank you. I am indeed honored.

Cecil Ffolly Hardwicke.

Sir Geoffrey Bucknose.

- How do you do?

- Lord Rudkin.

Now, my fellow trustees.

Our annual meeting tonight

is at once

a sad and a joyous occasion.

Sad because of the recent demise

of Rear Admiral, Sir Hubert Marple.

Joyous because in his stead

we welcome his niece,

the granddaughter of our founder,

admiral of the fleet,

Sir Bertram Marple.

- Hear, hear. Now, Bishop...

- Please allow me a moment.

In Sir Bertram's own words,

the objective of this trust is

to put backbone into young jellyfish.

Hence his purchase of that famous old

wooden wall of England,

the Battledore, which has since

served as a training ship

for young hooligans who might

otherwise have gone to the devil.

Bishop, we all know this,

but I have something

of importance to say.

So have I.

Madam, on this night your heart

must be overflowing with pride

at the achievements of your family.

I can only say and

from the bottom of my heart, welcome.

- Oh, Bishop.

- Amen. Now...

Please, please, please.

Bishop, my fellow trustees.

I'm moved

with the warmth of your welcome.

My heart is indeed filled with pride.

Forgive me,

smoke does so get in one's eyes.

That's better.

Bishop, fellow trustees,

I am honored to be one of you.

Would you take your finger

out of my snuff box!

I beg your pardon.

How dreadful of me.

As I was about to say,

with our steady hands at the helm,

I'm confident

that the good ship Battledore

will continue to buffet

her way through storm and tempest,

providing a safe haven for those

who are in peril on the sea of life.

Thank you.

Gentlemen and lady,

to the first item on our agenda...

Hang the first item,

I insist on speaking.

Look here, Ffolly, why can't you

raise it under any other business?

There won't be any other business

unless what I have to say

is heard now and acted upon.

Well, it's most irregular,

but very well.

Ffolly! Ffolly!

Was he exciting himself

about something?

Well, yes, Dr. Crump.

He did seem to be a little...

Yes, I thought so.

The spirit was willing

but the heart was not.

I'll deal with the police routine,

they're just across the road.

Good night.

- Brisk young fellow.

- Poor Ffolly.

I wonder what he was going to say.

He'd just paid

a surprise visit to the Battledore.

He got back this very day

as a matter of fact.

I wonder if he was going

to fuss over the reception he got?

The captain, you know,

does not encourage visitors.

What a beautiful way

to be taken - unawares.

- Miss Pringle!

- Oh, I say, not her too.

She has merely fainted.

I have some smelling salts in my bag.

Miss Marple, quickly, if you please.

Thank you very much.

Curious.

Empty.

Well, that's it, Inspector.

I'll give you

the death certificate in the morning.

Thank you. Sorry about the old boy.

No need to be. A long life,

money, four wives, a quick death...

What more can you want?

I must go, I've got a baby waiting.

Good night.

Brisk sort of chap isn't he?

What? Bacon!

Is it absolutely necessary for you to

creep about like this?

It's because I saw you creeping about

that I am creeping about.

You don't know

what occurred up there.

I do. What I don't know is

why you're climbing out of windows?

Yes, well, that was because

the poor man's snuff has been stolen.

Snuff?

Not the snuff box, though that

is quite valuable, just the snuff.

Snuff... stolen?

- Quite, by an intruder.

- Miss Marple, what on earth...?

Someone was lurking

outside that window.

You mean a burglar?

What interest could

our proceedings have for a burglar?

In any case, what kind

of a burglar is it who steals snuff?

You must have had

rather a severe shock tonight.

Now come with me, and Sergeant Bacon

here will see you home in my car.

A good night's sleep

and you'll be your old self.

Are you implying that I am unhinged?

- No, of course not.

- Then what are you implying pray?

Well, just that

you're temporarily not yourself.

Chief Inspector,

I am always myself.

- Did you get it?

- Yes.

The chemist

did question sulphuric acid,

but when he knew it was for you...

Yes, yes, thank you.

Now I think we can proceed.

I must confess, I'm at a loss

to know what this is all about.

The doctor

said he died of a heart attack.

- He did.

- Then...

Patience, Jim. Patience!

- What is that?

- Ffolly Hardwicke's snuff.

I thought it was all stolen.

Due to a slight contretemps earlier

in the evening, I spilled some.

Fortunately, our thief overlooked it.

I see.

Now handkerchief to mouth

for my first experiment, Mr. Stringer.

- All clear, not cyanide.

- Cyanide?

First a little of the solution,

then we add the catalyst,

a few drops only.

Now we wait a moment.

- Not African boxwood.

- Eh?

Gonioma kamassi.

The sawdust contains

an alkaloid that resembles curare.

Pity. I had hopes of that.

Nil desperandum as

my old science mistress used to say,

we try and try again.

Now if this changes color...

- So that's what it was.

- Er, what?

- Strychnine.

- In his...

He was done away with

through his nose.

- Good heavens!

- Very original.

Very ingenious...

...or perhaps not so.

Propel me please, Jim.

Here we are. The Doom Box

by J. Plantaganet Corby.

Here it is. Now listen.

'... and so m'lord',

declared Sefton Harricott,

'Jacob Rushton

did indeed suffer a heart attack,

but it was induced by

a noxious substance in his snuff.'

- I'm beginning to...

- Wait.

'The murderer', continued

Harricott, 'made one error,

he didn't remove the incriminating

residue from the snuff box.'

A mistake our murderer

no doubt imagines he has not made.

Why should anyone

want to do such a thing?

That, Mr. Stringer, is the question.

Poor Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke

had just returned from our ship.

He had something important to say,

he never said it.

I wonder.

Yes!

That's where the motive must lie.

Mr. Stringer, there is something

going on aboard the Battledore.

Goodness!

Ah, there she is!

Magnificent!

A real bit of history.

Pity anything

so beautiful should hold the answer

to something as sordid as murder.

Here comes the long boat.

Well on time -

two minutes

to two bells on the dogwatch.

Is this wise? Shouldn't we have tried

to convince the Chief Inspector?

Policemen, Mr. Stringer -

particularly our friend,

Chief Inspector Craddock -

are only convinced by proven fact.

Once you're out there

on the water, it'll be so easy.

A marlinspike in the dark,

your body rolling in the scuppers,

a splash,

carried out on the ebb tide...

My dear Jim, calm yourself.

I'm sorry, but I must insist

on pointing out the dangers.

Are you going to help me

or are you not?

- Well, yes, of course.

- Thank you.

- Now you have your signal lamp?

- Yes, yes.

Be sure to book a room

overlooking the estuary.

- I suggest at that hotel.

- Yes.

- You understand?

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