Murder Ahoy Page #4

---

- Yes, you do, sir.

- What the...?

The man you're looking for.

I know where he is.

So all you need to do is lie low

and allow the hunt to continue.

That'll keep the Inspector out

of mischief and give me a free hand.

- But surely a combined operation...

- No, don't you see?

If the real killer thinks

the police are looking for you,

he'll be lulled

into a sense of false security.

Oh, but I...

Very well, Miss Marple, I'll do it.

Stout fellow.

I suppose it was the nefarious

activities of the wretched Compton

and his misguided lads

that Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke found out.

Let's say it was that.

So Compton silenced Ffolly Hardwicke.

Yes.

Then who killed Compton?

- Well...

- His accomplice perhaps?

- Did he have an accomplice?

- Yes.

The person who intruded into

Compton's cabin during my intrusion

obviously knew

about the sea chest and its contents.

I see.

I wonder what it was that he or she

wanted out of that chest?

Could it have been the loot

from a previous robbery?

By Jove, Miss Marple, yes!

The classic situation -

thieves fall out.

Yes.

I see it. Compton murdered Ffolly

Hardwicke to procure his silence.

Compton's accomplice murdered him

to procure the loot.

Two murderers!

No.

No?

No, there's something wrong there.

I feel it in my bones.

I have it.

- Eh?

- What was bothering me.

Oh!

Compton's accomplice would have

chosen a more discreet way

of disposing of his partner in crime.

Yes, a sharp blow on the head,

a quick heave over the side,

body carried out on the ebb tide,

perhaps never to be recovered.

Precisely.

To run a man through

and then suspend him for all to see

and from the traditional gibbet

for mutineers and traitors.

No, Jim.

This suggests a different mind

from that of the common criminal,

a mind that could conceive

of something so diabolical

as to poison a man

with his own snuff.

- You don't mean?

- Yes.

I strongly suspect

there is only one murderer,

that he killed

Ffolly Hardwicke and Compton

from a motive

that we don't yet know of...

...a motive of his own.

By Jove, I believe you're right.

What could that motive be?

A moment, Mr. Stringer.

I found this envelope

in Compton's sea chest

and it had been steamed open.

Why should Compton wish to intercept

a communication to the Trustees?

On the back, these figures,

some sort of calculation,

probably by Compton,

but see here the number 33.

You will recall

Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke's preoccupation

with just that number - 33.

Mr. Stringer, you must return

to Milchester at once.

Go and see the Secretary

of the Trust, Miss Pringle,

and ask her what kind

of communication from the ship

would be likely to be contained

in an unusual envelope of this sort.

Miss Marple, the police!

I thought you said I was to lie low.

Well, use the back stairs.

Turn up your collar and pull down

your cap. Goodbye. Good luck.

The Chief Constable and I

have read your statement.

We can't believe it,

but we've read it.

There is no further point in my stay.

Just a minute.

I could charge you for withholding

information, conspiracy,

aiding and abetting a fugitive

from justice and I expect many more.

- Why don't you?

- If I had my way...

Anyhow, the Chief thinks that some

good has come from your meddling.

- Meddling?

- Meddling.

May I ask what line

you intend to pursue?

Compton was killed by his accomplice.

I thought you would think that.

- Glib.

- Glib?

- Thought you would want to see this.

- Thank you.

Thank you very much.

We now know who that accomplice is.

Oh.

There have been six major robberies

in this neighborhood

in as many weeks - jewelry mostly.

A social event preceded each robbery.

All the guest lists included

the name of Sub-Lieutenant Humbert.

I see. Are you going to arrest him?

I'll pull Humbert in, confront him

with those junior safe-breakers,

but that will be just a formality.

I take it you are disregarding

the possibility

that Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke

died any other than a natural death?

Snuffed out

by strychnine in his snuff?

You've got far too much imagination.

Just as well, since I seem

to need enough for both of us.

The way lies before you.

I suggest you take it,

collect Mr. Stringer

and go home to Milchester.

The way lies before you,

Chief Inspector.

I suggest you take it.

Lock yourself up for the night

and do some good hard thinking.

Of course.

Craddock, how much longer

do we have to sit here?

We'll wait for the doctor's report,

Captain.

Just... just...

Do you know what day it is?

- Wednesday.

- Wednesday.

It's Trafalgar Day!

We've got our annual hornpipe display

tonight at the Quay Hotel.

- You'll have to cancel it, sir.

- Cancel it!

That'll break a tradition!

- I'm sorry.

- You're sorry?

It's the death of Nelson!

I can't ignore the death of Nelson!

I can't ignore

some rather more recent deaths.

It's all very upsetting.

- Have you any snakes on board?

- Snakes?

What is he talking about?

I thought as much.

It's most peculiar.

She was poisoned through a puncture

in her finger - curare possibly -

popular with South American pygmies.

They use the blowpipe, right into the

system. They've gone in a jiffy.

Most extraordinary.

Never seen anything like it.

I'd like to discuss it, but I can't.

Where's my bag? Oh, you've got it.

Yes, I've got a baby due.

It might even be twins or triplets.

Good morning.

- That chap really is brisk.

- It's all life and death with him.

Snakes...

Pygmies...

Blowpipes...

It's her, you know.

The ancient mariner

had nothing on her.

- Are you all right?

- All right?

No, I am not all right.

- Get that woman off this ship!

- What woman?

Miss Marple, you fool!

Since she came aboard, two

of my staff have been slaughtered,

Humbert's been slapped in jail

and four of my lads have been accused

of housebreaking!

Apart from that,

the ship's stuffed with this!

What do you call it? Loot!

Look at it.

Craddock, my friend.

My dear Inspector friend.

I don't care how you do it,

but get her off.

I mean, trump up some charge

if you like.

I'm sure you're very good at that.

You see, she's a jinx.

She's a Jonah.

She's blowing an ill wind!

Where is the dear man?

He must be back by now.

The captain thinks

you've got the evil eye.

He wants me to get rid of you.

I'm sure he does.

- Well, may I come in?

- If you wish.

Now I suppose you intend

to release Sub-Lieutenant Humbert?

I'm not so sure.

I admit the girl

must have been the accomplice

who took the loot

from Compton's cabin,

but I think Humbert's mixed up in it.

He is.

He's one

of the Rutherfordshire Humberts.

As such, acceptable socially

at all the big houses in the country,

which explains his presence

at the functions you spoke of,

which preceded each robbery.

I... suppose it would.

- I presume he went with the girl?

- Yes.

You know, it may be

she made up to him deliberately

in order to gain entre

into these houses so as to,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes