The Belles of St. Trinian's Page #3

I'm surprised to hear the girls can write.

- The trouble is we've no direct evidence.

- Ah.

And that's where I really need your help.

I want to get someone

to work for me on the inside.

What makes you think he'll come back?

I thought we might get

a woman police officer

on the teaching staff for a few months.

If there are any vacancies.

There are always vacancies

at St Trinian's.

The significant thing is nothing

ever happens during the school holidays.

Oh, the school holidays.

Happy clays! I long for them!

Me, too.

I... I suppose you wouldn't care

to give me the name of your psychiatrist.

- I'd be delighted, old man.

- Oh, thanks very much.

Ah! Just as I thought. There we are.

That's what you're after, I fancy.

'Sergeant Gates to see you, sir.'

Send her in.

Come in.

- You sent for me?

- Yes.

I have

the most important assignment for you.

Oh, good-oh, Sammy!

How many times must I tell you

not to call me "Sammy" in the office?

Sorry, Sammy. Sorry.

Before you joined the police,

you taught in a girls' school.

Yes. I was a games mistress.

Quite. That's the reason

I've chosen you for this job.

I want you to go into a girls' school,

incognito, of course,

and see what's going on there.

It's not St Trinian's?

St Trinian's.

No, Sammy. No.

You of all people to send me there!

There are limits. I won't do it!

I shall regard a refusal

as a dereliction of duty.

I can't help it. It's not fair.

You're taking advantage of me.

Don't be ridiculous.

Yes, you are.

After all we've meant to each other.

It's. .. it's rotten!

Now, listen to me, Ruby.

I didn't mean to mention this,

but didn't I give you a promotion?

Didn't I take you off the beat?

I know! I know!

Then surely you can do

this one little thing in return.

But it's not a little thing.

It's... it's horrible!

Ruby, dear, please don't be so...

so un-policewomanly.

I can't help it.

It's a terrible place!

Why do you suppose

I want you to go there?

Don't you see that we must work together

to stamp out this... this canker?

But we shan't be together.

You'll be here and I'll be there.

We shan't even get

to the pictures together.

It won't be forever.

I wrote to the school on your behalf,

applying for the post of games mistress.

- You didn't!

- They've accepted you.

Who's Chloe Crawley?

That's you, dear.

I couldn't use your real name.

But "Chloe"? That' a terrible name!

And "Crawley".

They'll call me "Creepy Crawley".

Why couldn't you have thought

of something like "Mavis"?

- You don't look like a Mavis to me, clear.

- I hope I don't look like a Chloe either.

No, of course, you don't, dear.

To me, you'll always be just...

plain Ruby.

Don't you see, dear,

how much this means to us?

And you will do it? For both our sakes?

All right. I'll have to polish up

my hockey before I bully off.

What sort of record

have we got at hockey?

My dear, the trouble

has been to get a fixtures list,

owing to the spirit of defeatism

that even our little girls

seem to have instilled

into their opponents.

We have won practically every cup

in the county.

With the exception

of the Markham trophy.

We're playing Billstone Lane

for that shortly.

Not... not quite

the same class of school perhaps.

We'll never lay the spectre of juvenile

delinquency by cold-shouldering it.

Oh, careful.

School cups, I suppose.

Oh, yes, yes, yes. That's right.

They've... they've gone

to be "pawnished"... polished!

Quite a collection,

Miss Crawley, isn't it?

Sorry I can't show you the gym.

We're temporarily out of action.

- What are you doing, Euphemia?

- Nothing, Miss Fritton!

Who is that man?

Oh...

You know, I'm not absolutely sure.

It could be Harry.

A boot boy I engaged in 1940.

Of course, he was only 12

and didn't have any moustache then,

but, apart from that, I see no reason

why it shouldn't be Harry.

The fourth form are

amazingly advanced in their chemistry.

Shall we see what they're up to, hm?

Bessie, you will be careful

of that nitroglycerin, won't you, pet?

Yes, Miss Fritton.

I told you they're frightfully advanced.

Ah, there you are, Miss Wilson!

Well, great activity, as usual.

Oh, rather! But I haven't a clue

what they're making.

Really? Well... well, let's see, shall we?

Gangway! Would you mind?

Hold it steady, Molly!

Lower away!

Here it comes now!

This is... It's got something.

I don't quite know what,

but send a few bottles up to my room.

Whatever it is,

it'll do for the Old Girls' reunion.

Come along now, Miss Crawley.

You must tear yourself away.

We've lots more to see, you know.

Practical things like chemistry prove

such a natural outlet, I always think.

Oh, dear. Poor little Bessie.

I warned her to be careful

of that nitroglycerin.

I think perhaps leave that till you're

more used to our ways, Miss Crawley.

Geography.

...Rhone, Burgundy, Pouilly and Chablis.

Quite right, dear.

And now I want you to write down

the six best vintage years of champagne

since 1928.

- Bella, your dad wants you on the phone.

- OK.

Oh, I'll give your love to the old man.

Miss Crawley, I think that gives you

a fair picture of the school.

Quite.

Hi, Pop!

Hello, kid. How are you getting on

with the little princess?

'OK. Why?'

Just that it looks as if we might need

the little lady sooner than I expected.

You know the horse, Blue Prince,

that Benny and I have entered

for the Gold Cup?

Well, we've backed it to win the fortune.

Ah. Now let me tell you.

The Sultan's got a horse

he bought from France called Arab Boy,

entered in the same race.

You want the princess to take me to

the stables to find out the form. Is that it?

Yes, yes. But not so loud, Bella.

Arab Boy doesn't stand

an earthly on the book,

but, well,

we'd like to be on an absolute certainty

and they're running it

in a trial tomorrow morning.

- Well, what time?

- 'Nine o'clock I'm told.'

Nine.

Now, you know what we want. The time,

the distance and the weight he carries.

Well, you leave that to me.

I'll take a few of the gang along.

OK. OK.

OK. Don't worry, Pop.

We'll get the dough.

Jackie, what'll you give me

if I tell you what I've just heard?

- What have you heard?

- Something you'd like to know.

- What is it?

- No!

Let me go! Stop it! Let go of my arm!

- What is it now?

- Stop twisting my arm first, you pigs!

It's not fair! I make it my... Oh!

Come on! Spill it!

Well, you know Bella's dad's

got a horse in the Gold Cup?

We know!

He's told her to find out

the form of the horse

the Sultan's got in the same race.

- Arab Boy!

- They're running it in a trial tomorrow.

- What does that mean?

- I think we ought to know about it.

Yes! There may be a chance

to make some money.

Oh!

- Ready, John?

- Yes, sir.

Right-oh, then.

Well, it looks all right on paper,

but it doesn't mean much

unless we know the weight.

- Where do they put the weight?

- In the saddle, of course!

- Lumps of lead.

- How are we going to find that out?

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