[Charles] To whomsoever shall
be the future possessor
of this gem.
These lines are addressed
in mourning
before he or she shall assume
it's responsibility.
[dramatic music playing]
[Charles] It will be packed
in seven boxes
and deposited with my bankers.
[man speaking in foreign language]
[Charles] With instruction,
it is not to see the light again
until I have been dead 100 years.
To whomsoever shall
be the future possessor
of this gem.
Known as the Star of the Orient,
it is accursed and stained
with the blood and dishonour
of everyone who has ever owned it.
[music fades]
[theme music playing]
[theme music concludes]
[festive music playing]
- Who would like to do the honours?
- [gasps] Me.
[Sister Reginald] Well,
there's something about the advent,
they always brings out
the inner child.
No, not in my case.
My parents are both
committed atheists.
You didn't celebrate Christmas?
No, they made an exception
for the King's speech
which was considered
suitably secular.
Right, Sister Peter.
The stage is yours.
Drumroll, please.
- It's a holly leaf?
- Nah.
It's a turkey, I think.
No, it's the manger.
Readied in preparation
for the big night.
If that's a depeche of a manger,
then God help baby Jesus.
[chuckles]
[music concludes]
[music playing over radio]
What time is your train?
To play Santa Claus
and maintain my reputation
as favourite uncle.
I'll be back tonight, Mrs Clam.
Oh, and don't keep supper.
I'll grab a pie and a pint
in the pub.
Will the trains still be running
in the snow?
Oh, note to self, Dottie, to fetch
kerosene lamps from the allotment,
in case,
there's another power cut.
What's all this?
You never usually get a tree.
I confess to Mrs Clam
but I've never had a real one.
When it's just me and Dottie,
it hardly seems worth the bother,
but with you
and Sergeant Livingstone here
and him so far from his family,
well, we're going to pull out
all the stocks this year.
I'm making a cassava pie.
Except the greengrocer
didn't have cassavas.
So, I'm using parsnips.
I'm sure it's going
to be delicious, Miss Thimble.
Are you sure you wouldn't try
to spend this time
with your family?
As much as I love my sisters
and their husbands and six children
and eight dogs
or is it eight children,
six dogs?
Peace on earth, it ain't.
We're glad you'll be here
to keep us company.
The four of us are going
to have a very Merry Christmas.
- Mm-hmm.
- [chuckles]
[chuckles]
[chuckles] Oh, dear me,
that sounds all too familiar.
And brings to mind the time
- she went all... all the...
- [knock on door]
- You wanted me, Reverend Mother?
- It's your mother.
- [birds chirping]
- [bell tolling in distance]
Hello.
- I've broken my elbow.
- You mother has broken her elbow.
And before you ask,
your sister is playing
Nussknacker Anzucker
at the Royal Opera House.
Mrs Daly has insisted
on taking Christmas off. Typical.
And your father is incapable
of boiling an egg
- without burning the house down.
- [playful music playing]
[Malise] Oh, she's hardly better.
Do you remember the Chicken
Popeye Inferno?
Needs must, Malise.
Oh, we wouldn't dream
of asking you.
Erm, well I...
I need to ask Reverend Mother,
if she can spare me...
Oh, I'm sure
we can manage without her.
This is Bonham-Crane.
You leave it with me.
I'll make sure
she's on the next train.
[telephone dings]
Sounds hopeful.
Ow!
[group] ♪ Brightly shone the moon
That night
♪ Though the frost was cruel... ♪
[train screeches]
- [children giggling]
- Picture!
Worst weather conditions on record.
Thank you.
- [coins clink]
- [overlapping chatter]
- Running away from the convent?
- [exclaims] Very good.
No, mother's broken her elbows, so,
I'm needed at home.
Ah, Christmas with your parents,
that'd be nice.
- Hmm.
- [indistinct chatter]
[playful music playing]
Merry Christmas,
Mr and Mrs Scrooge.
Bah! And I cannot emphasise
this enough,
- Humbug!
- Humbug!
Anyway, where you off to?
Oxford. Dropping presents
for the family.
Well, how fortuitous.
We can share our journey
as far as there.
Oh, and I have a picnic.
- Courtesy of Sister Lawrence.
- Excellent. [grunts softly]
[low-spirited music playing]
After you, sister.
Goodbye.
I'm so... I'm sorry.
[music fades]
You have the Robertson
board meeting on the 28th.
I assume
you'd wanna be there in person.
Lunch with Lord Goldsworth
on the 30th
to discuss financing
for beneficiaries.
I prepared you a summary
of the key points.
And the Prime Minister
has asked you
for New Year's drinks and checkers.
Tell him no. Man's an idiot
who'll only tap me for donation.
Let's have you in the warm,
my darling.
You're too sweet, Ranulph.
What would I do without you?
[in Hindi]
[dramatic music playing]
[in English] Good afternoon,
Sir Swinton.
I am Fawcett, and it's my privilege
to wait on you
for the duration of your journey.
Henry Medwick, we spoke yesterday.
Can you show us where this
is going?
If you'd like to come this way?
[Débora] Coo-ey!
Sir Swinton, Débora Fitz D'Arcy,
I believe you are acquainted
with my cousin,
Lady Violet Windermere.
Lady Violet was so sorry
to hear about your accident.
You've been so brave, both of you.
- Her words, not mine.
- Thank you.
Please, excuse us.
I see you have
private accommodation
and would beg a favour.
First class is full
and the problem with second is,
one never knows
who one might end up sitting with.
Who is this woman?
That won't be possible today,
I'm afraid.
[mysterious music playing]
[Henry] You...
are required to verify delivery
of the item.
And I'll be needing a signature.
Oh.
It's magnificent.
I'll be happy never to set eyes
on the damn thing again.
The... museum has organised
a security escort
to meet you at Marylebone.
I must instruct you
to set a new combination
known only to yourself.
Please do not share this
with anyone,
including members of your family.
They're the last people
I'll share it with.
Then it only remains me to wish you
a safe journey.
Goodbye, Sir. And Merry Christmas.
And to you.
- [mysterious music playing]
- [locker dial clicking]
[music concludes]
- [guard whistles]
- [train whistle blowing]
[lively dramatic music playing]
[music concludes]
Stockings,
followed by morning carols,
then back home for sherry
and mince pies,
present opening,
lunch at one o'clock,
and three o'clock,
Her Majesty's speech
followed by tea and parlour games.
I'm very partial to charades.
[gasps, whimpers]
Well, I've no idea
what that's supposed to be.
How many syllables?
- Oh, my.
- [mysterious music playing]
Lord, have mercy.
Revert your eyes, Dottie.
He's definitely male.
[birds chirping]
[scoffs] Why have we stopped again?
I'm due at my cousin,
Lady Violet Windermere's.
She will be very inconvenienced
if I am late.
And where are you headed? Mr?
Harinder Ray.
London Airport. I'm flying home
to Bangalore on Christmas Day.
So, sadly, I'll be spending the day
in the air.
One would hardly expect you
to appreciate a Christian festival.
Actually, erm,
there are startling parallels
between the baby Krishna
and baby Jesus.
Isn't that right, Mr Ray?
God's born in human form,
endangered from birth
because of their divinity.
Hunted by murderous kings.
I am going to find a God
to ask how much longer
we will be stuck here.
[unsettling music playing]
Shortbread fingers, sir?
Is there a newspaper at least
to pass the damn time?
Bloody Denmark.
Bit of snow, the government goes
full on headless chicken.
- [guard whistling]
- [bell tolling]
- [train whistle blowing]
- [birds chirping]
Oh, what the blazes.
[vocalises]
- Ta-da.
- Ugh!
[Sister Peter] What do you think?
Is something wrong,
Reverend Mother?
Grave news from our sisters
in Wadi Fira.
"It is wonderful to hear
of your plans
in place to Christmas.
We regret our tidings,
lack seasonal joy.
The crops and livestock
are ravaged by drought.
The nearest water hall now
a two mile walk.
"Yet we are determined to celebrate
the birth of our Saviour.
We pray the bells of St Vincent's
ring out clearer
for our Saviour, this year.
Enough food has been saved
to ensure all the children
will have a meal on Christmas Day".
The poor souls. I'll pray for them.
Compliments from Sister Lawrence.
She knows marzipan style
is a favourite of yours.
[groans]
[divine music playing]
[music fades]
Would someone care
to inform me what's happening?
The coupling snapped.
- Maybe it froze.
- Why didn't they stop?
- [Sister Boniface] Oh, hello.
- Where did you spring from?
Got off to stretch my legs.
Then the train started to leave.
What happened?
It appears we're stranded.
Not for long.
They'll soon realise,
there are a few carriages
short of a train.
And in the meantime,
are we to freeze to death?
There's no heating
or light in here.
Er, the Pullman has a generator.
We can move in there
while we wait for help.
Er, with Sir Swinton's permission.
Sir Swinton.
Oh, fine, just get on with it, man.
[pensive music playing]
[music fades]
And he was still wearing his socks.
He was stiff as a proverbial.
Oh!
[groans]
[pants] Apologies
for the whatnot.
Called me mid dress rehearsal.
We're all looking forward
to heckling your uglier sister.
Oh! No, you're not.
[group] Oh, yes, we are.
Why CC Lowsley dress like a woman?
It's pantomime, Sarge.
The dames played by a man
and the principal boys played
by a girl.
- Of course.
- So, what do we got?
Yeah, er, a male, 50s to 60s,
no obvious signs of any injury.
What did the police surgeon say?
The cause of death was hypothermia.
And he was...
naked?
It's known as paradoxical
undressing.
It's when the body temperature
falls too low,
it creates confusion
and a sensation of overheating,
leading the victim
to then removing their clothes.
They weren't at the allotments,
so, he must have removed them
somewhere else before going there
to find shelter.
Poor fellow, probably, a vagrant.
I hope this won't spoil plans
for Christmas.
I think not, erm,
at present, the death seems
rather unsuspicious, although,
we're yet to identify him.
Well, I must away.
The muse is calling.
- Merry Christmas, sir.
- I sincerely doubt it.
Mrs Lowsley's mother's
spending the holidays with us.
[laughs sarcastically]
- [thuds]
- [groans]
[groans]
Problem?
Er, letter from a supplier.
Bloody man's a professional
complainer. [exhales sharply]
Er, don't panic.
I... I...
I think there are some oil lamps.
If I can locate one,
I can check the fuse box.
[Sister Boniface] Oh, erm,
I always keep an emergency box
of matches to hand.
Erm, let me see.
Pen Kn*fe.
- Ball of string.
- [matches rustling]
I don't know what it is.
Oh, bingo.
[soft dramatic music playing]
Ah, the generator's tripped.
Nothing to worry about.
[Sir Swinton]
Nothing to worry about?
The train mysteriously decouples
leaving us stranded,
then the power goes out.
This is no coincidence.
You think it's an attempt to steal?
Do you mind me asking
what you're talking about?
What business is it of yours?
Detective Inspector Gillespie,
Great Slaughter Police.
- [inhales] Come with me.
- [mysterious music playing]
See, we're utterly paranoid.
- It's quite some security.
- It's a Ruby weighing 50 carats.
[Gillespie] Oh.
- [Sister Boniface] Intriguing.
- [music concludes]
A priceless Ruby vanishes
from a safety
which only Sir Swinton knew
the combination.
But could somebody have guessed it?
Tell me you didn't write it down.
Do you think I'm senile?
The thought is increasingly
starting to cross my mind.
Could anyone have entered
the Pullman
before the trains uncoupled?
Not without us seeing them.
Which means the thief
is amongst us.
I sincerely hope
that I am not under suspicion.
Lady Violet Windermere
is my cousin...
I don't care whether she
is the Queen Mother,
but I would like
to know where she sprang from?
What? I told you I got off
the train to stretch my legs.
I will be interviewing everyone
in due course, including Miss...
Cooper. Carol Cooper.
But how do we even know
that he is a policeman?
Any Tom, d*ck, or Harry could fake
a warrant card.
I may be able to offer
some reassurance on that score.
Along with credentials of my own.
Very nice piece by Norman.
I was going to show you,
but thought you might...
wouldn't, erm.
Anyway, here's your proof
in black and white.
- The orphans' Christmas party.
- [whimsical music playing]
You know there aren't many men
who can pull off a pair
of green tights.
As you may have deduced,
Sister Boniface is well known
to the police in her capacity
as the?
A vintner of St. Vincent's.
We're winemakers. And the police
are our most valued customers.
Your employer is chairman
of Usher industries
and his son works
for the company as well.
He holds a managerial position
in a subsidiary company.
Ranulph didn't inherit his father's
appetite for business.
He's always been too busy
chasing the ladies.
[chuckles]
I understand the company
is having some problems.
Oh, it's a temporary downturn.
Nothing we can't weather.
- We?
- I... I didn't mean...
I know the inner workings
of the company better than anyone,
having been with Sir Swinton
for 18 years.
I know what you're thinking
but his bark is worse
than his bite.
I've become very fond of him.
- Oh, is the jewel in short?
- For three million pounds.
But only until it arrives
at the British Museum.
Sir Swinton is gifting it to them
on permanent loan.
It's quite some bequest.
Sir Swinton
is a very generous man.
[mysterious music playing]
- How old are you, Carol?
- [music fades]
- Sixteen.
- [Gillespie] And, er,
why are you travelling to Cholsey?
To spend Christmas with my aunt.
Do you have an address?
Twenty Elversfield Avenue.
The ticket is only one way.
When are you planning to come back?
Well, with the snow and all, we...
we decided it be better to wait.
Thank you. That's all for now.
Fawcett.
Stanley Michael, 35, Nelson's Road,
Chipping Camden.
My credentials and letters
of authority, for your information.
I'd, er...
keep my eye on the Indian fellow
if I were you.
[mysterious music playing]
[music fades]
We bring bad tidings.
The bells have frozen.
There'll be no ringing out
on Christmas morning.
It's like the bloody w*r
all over again.
[Sister Peter] We know it's
your favourite part of the day.
- [wind whooshing]
- [divine music playing]
- Reverend Mother?
- [music fades]
God works in mysterious ways.
Thank you for informing me.
Is there anything else?
You're taking this much better
than we thought.
Exactly how did you think
I would take it?
Well, not like this.
[breathes deeply]
[crockery clinking]
Personal effects, Sarge.
One pair of socks.
They're clean.
And they look new. I...
I don't think
this man was a vagrant.
- And any luck finding his clothes?
- Er, no, no, not yet but...
it's pitch black out there.
We'll search again
when it's daylight.
Okay, I'm putting an inquiry out
for missing persons.
It's Christmas. We owe it
to his family to identify him.
Case of the unclad corpse.
Where's Sister Boniface
when you need her, eh?
[mysterious music playing]
- [exclaims]
- [music fades]
What are you playing at, Sister?
I deemed it prudent
to remain undercover.
Been associated with the police
has a tendency to make people
clam up, as I'm sure you are aware.
Well, no offence, Sister,
but you are a terrible liar.
None taken. It is rather contrary
to the job description.
But under the circumstances,
I'm sure I can improvise.
- So, what did you discover?
- Right.
Sir Swinton Usher,
Chairman of Usher Industries,
traveling with his son, Ranulph.
Bit of a disappointment
by all accounts.
His daughter-in-law, Abigail
and his secretary, Jean Smythe.
The steward, Fawcett,
he was hired
by the security company
in charge of transporting
the jewel.
And Hari Ray's passport
and plane ticket verify his story.
- What about young Carol?
- Hmm.
Something doesn't add up there.
- Oh, and sorry.
- Oh, sorry.
Usher Industries is
in financial trouble,
according to reports.
[suspenseful music playing]
Which begs the question...
Why would you donate
a jewel worth three million pounds
to a museum?
Damned if I did.
Damned if I didn't.
Oh, here we go.
I've never heard of it.
But then last year,
I received an unknown
correspondence about a bequest
from a great-great-uncle,
with me
as the next direct descendant
in line.
[lights flickering]
With it were two letters.
[mysterious music playing]
[Charles] "To whomsoever shall
be the future possessor
of this gem.
These lines are addressed
in mourning
before he or she shall assume
its responsibility.
Known as the Star of the Orient,
it is accursed
and stained with the blood
and dishonour
of everyone who has ever owned it.
My nephew, Colonel William Usher
of the Bengal Cavalry
won it in a card game
in a Bombay gambling den.
And for you, my darling. A gift.
[Charles]
After which he brought it home
and presented it to his wife.
It's magnificent.
[Charles] From that time,
misfortune att*cked him.
- [ominous music playing]
- [bell tolling]
[Charles]
The loss of his wife and child...
followed by a series
of financial setbacks.
[William sobbing]
[exhales, sniffs]
[Charles] All the while
plagued by unsettling visions
of a horned wraith.
Convinced the gem was responsible,
he sold it to a jeweller,
only for the buyer to return it,
claiming it was haunted
by an evil spirit.
- [screams]
- [g*nsh*t]
[sombre music playing]
[Charles] Two days later,
he committed su1c1de.
And the jewel passed
into the possession
of his brother, Julian.
Who himself, being convinced
of its malevolence,
casted into a river,
- Where it would never be found.
- [shouts]
[soft dramatic music playing]
[indistinct chatter]
[Charles] Weeks later,
while hosting a dinner...
Shortly after, the east wing
was razed to the ground in a fire,
claiming his life
and those of his family.
As his uncle, the jewel passed
into my reluctant possession.
Convinced it can neither be sold
nor disposed of,
without risk to my life
and those of my family,
I am having it exorcised.
After which, it will be packed
in seven boxes
and deposited with my bankers.
With instruction,
it is not to see the light again
until I have been dead 100 years."
[music concludes]
And in the other letter?
From William Usher to his brother.
A ghost story.
Worthy of Mrs James O'Collins.
Do you think I wasn't sceptical?
When Abigail asked to borrow
the jewel for some fancy party,
I agreed, little knowing
what would happen.
I'll thank you to keep my wife
out of your crackpot theories.
It was an accident.
Driving home after the party,
a stag ran in front of the car,
I lost control and hit a tree.
We were both nearly k*lled.
A head injury caused me
to lose my sight.
You say it was a stag?
The horned wraith.
- [scoffs] Ah, don't be ridiculous.
- [Sir Swinton] It's not ridiculous.
It's the first sensible word
she's uttered.
It was 300 pounds
of prime venison.
Not some ghoulie or ghosty
or long-legged beasty.
Belief in the supernatural
is integral to my culture.
[pensive music playing]
Thirty-two.
What is God if not
a supernatural entity.
I believe the perpetrator
to be far more human.
But there's nothing to be done now.
I suggest we will try
and get some rest
until help arrives.
[Mr Ray] Does anyone know
where we are?
[music fades]
♪ My gift is you ♪
If you're waiting
for Inspector Gillespie,
he didn't come home last night.
Maybe he decided to spend the night
at his sister's.
[sniffs] If that's the case,
he would have telephoned
and told us.
[reporter over radio]
This is the BBC news...
It's Christmas Eve.
There's a tree to decorate,
stockings to fill,
and well, he jolly well better
be back in time for Midnight Mass.
And I sincerely hope he isn't going
to wreck our Christmas plans
- for some fancy woman.
- Mrs Clam.
[reporter over radio]
...missing four carriages.
The spokesman for the railway said,
"We are making strenuous efforts
to find the missing passengers.
But a search operation
is severely hindered by the snow...
Wasn't that Sam's train?
[reporter over radio]
...it's only a matter of time.
Between Little Sockford
and Belbray.
Well, that's at least 30 miles.
Cross country.
And the snowploughs are unable
to get through.
So, with Gillespie AWOL,
that leaves you
in the driving seat.
[inhales sharply] So,
any luck identifying our John Doe?
No missing persons reports
of death filed locally
or by adjacent police forces.
- Post mortem report's in.
- Hmm. That was quick.
- Oh, it's not very long, sir.
- [Lowsley] Ah!
Death by hypothermia.
God. Such a relief.
My family were so worried
I'd be working over Christmas.
Look at this.
Do you see the marks
around the mouth?
[Peggy] They look like burns.
I have seen this before,
a kidnapping in Bermuda,
the victim was chloroformed.
I think our man was knocked out
then his clothes removed,
leaving him to freeze to death.
This is m*rder.
Splendid. [chuckles]
Well, for you.
First m*rder, flying solo.
Chance to cover yourself in glory.
I better telephone Mrs Lowsley,
tell her I won't be home
for dinner. [chuckles]
[hums]
- [door slams shut]
- My first m*rder case
and I can't even identify
the victim.
I'm hardly covering myself
in glory.
What do you think Sam would do
if he were here?
Well, there is a Christmas
wholesale on at the pub,
so, I reckon he'd be
in the spitfire.
Opening hours aren't until 11:00.
Oh, it's Christmas, Sarge.
And that is why Peggy,
you are the best WPC in the county.
Come on.
Search turned out nothing.
Hardly surprising
when we're looking
for something the size of a walnut.
And whoever had the ingenuity
to steal it,
certainly has the ingenuity
to conceal it.
We only have Sir Swinton's word
that it was stolen.
And a... a three million-pound
insurance claim
to give his company
a much needed cash injection.
Yes, but why go to the charade
of donating it to a museum?
I don't know.
And this story of a curse
is hard to swallow.
His fear seems genuine, although,
seemingly not shared by his son.
Hmm. He seemed more concerned
about his wife.
Maybe not that concerned
about his wife.
[grunts]
Problem?
Um, letter from a supplier.
Bloody man's
a professional complainer.
[Gillespie] Go on.
- Curiosity is a sin.
- Noted.
And it was only
an inadvertent glance.
- Do you remember what it said?
- [exhales]
"Darling soul,
still no reply to my last letter,
so, I'm blaming the filthy weather.
Something terrible has happened.
Ronald has been posted to Bogotá
in the new year.
I'd rather die. Say the word
and we can escape somewhere warm
and sunny and be anonymous.
I'm in agonies of despair
till you say yes.
Please write back.
Ever your devoted, Helena."
Well, that was the gist
of it anyway.
An inadvertent glance?
I have somewhat
of an eidetic memory.
Of course, you do.
Well, if he was running away
with his mistress,
he'd need some cash.
And I have a feeling
that his father keeps him
on quite the tight rein.
Inspector. We have a problem.
The generator only has enough fuel
for a few hours.
We're on a railway line.
There must be a telephone
on the track,
someone we can call for help.
- Army man, Sir?
- Fusiliers.
Army catering call. Corporal.
Permission to accompany you?
There's no knowing
what you might encounter out there.
West it is.
It's a beautiful day.
Hmm. I feel snow coming.
Oh, yes, quite right.
There are snow clouds.
I think it's true what they say
about losing one sight
and the rest
of your senses compensating.
I hear more, smell more,
taste more.
Feel more.
- Steady on, there's a nun present.
- [giggles]
I'm quite unshockable.
Although, I confess, this jewel
theft has left me rather shaken.
[dubious music playing]
Have you a theory
as to how it was taken?
Well, it's obvious.
He must have written down
the combination or told someone
and then forgot.
My father's age is catching up
with him.
Why else would he believe
the ramblings of some
batty Victorian ancestor.
No doubt who was high on opium,
penning his fourth-rate
ghost story.
The accident didn't change
your mind.
The only thing cursed
was our marriage.
And the irony is, it took all this
to bring us back together.
Oh, isn't it wonderful
to see such a devoted couple?
And after all you've been through,
[hisses, groans]
Oh, you're cold, Mrs Usher.
May I escort you back?
[instrumental music playing]
[music fades]
[group singing]
Gentlemen.
Gentlemen!
[whistles]
We have a problem.
Hey, we're not here to read you
the riot act. Are we, Sarge?
Well, I'm assuming, Suzanne,
you have a permit
to be serving alcohol outside
of licensing hours.
- [Tom hesitates]
- Yes, yes.
Okay, look, look.
We need your help
identifying this man.
His body was found yesterday.
Do any of you recognise him?
[gibberish]
Did you see where he went, Tom?
[gibberish]
Oh, that's very helpful, Tom.
Wishing you all a happy Christmas.
- [Livingstone] What did he say?
- He went to Miss Thimble's cafe.
[lively chatter]
Oh, there's a turnout
for the books.
[glasses clink]
[group singing]
- [coughs]
- [chuckles]
[Fawcett]
I expect you have a theory
as to how the jewel was stolen.
I don't think it was spirited away
by some ghost
if that's what
you're talking about.
Ah, "There are more things
in heaven and earth,
Horatio, than are dreamt of
in your philosophy."
That's Shakespeare.
Pick up all sorts
in this profession.
I come from a long line
of silver servicemen
as we like to call ourselves.
My grandfather was a waiter
on the Titanic.
He d*ed a hero's death.
My father was a door man
at the Ritz.
And our son, Clive, has just become
an airline steward for BOAC.
His mother and I were bursting
with pride.
The first flying Fawcett.
Hallelujah!
- [exhales]
- [soft dramatic music playing]
[music fades]
Sisters!
I have something to impart.
Yesterday, I was visited
by the Holy Spirit.
[divine music playing]
The silencing of our bells
is no coincidence.
It is a sign of God's disapproval.
- [music concludes]
- [clock ticking]
That whilst we gorge on festivity,
our African sisters starve.
It's a sign, it's five degrees
below freezing.
Should we say a Mass for them?
We must do more than that.
I propose a seasonal fast
in solidarity.
Nothing but bread
and water should pass our lips.
You wanna cancel Christmas?
Well, I leave that
to your individual consciences.
However, we are
a democratic community here.
So, if anyone wishes to dissent...
[whimsical music playing]
Reverend Mother, it's...
it's only one day.
That's the attitude.
Sister Peter is an inspiration
to us all. Anyone else?
So, all this must come down.
This is a period of reflection
and not of celebration.
[divine music playing]
And Merry Christmas to you too.
[music fades]
It's snowing again.
We're one missing.
Has anyone seen Miss Fitz D'Arcy?
She said she was going for a walk.
I hope she hasn't gone too far.
It's getting worse out there.
[mysterious music playing]
What's there?
Miss Fitz D'Arcy.
Is it?
She's dead.
Uh, I need you to step away
from the body.
Is that blood?
Why is it that colour?
- Fetch Sister Boniface.
- Sister Boniface?
I... [exhales]
This woman obviously needs prayers.
All right.
[Fawcett]
But the cable had been cut.
And worse, then we found her body,
Miss Fitz D'Arcy.
m*rder*d.
So, we have a missing jewel,
a dead woman,
and the telephone lines are down.
- Is there any good news?
- Don't sh**t the messenger, sir.
- How did she die?
- [Fawcett] I don't know.
But there was something
unnatural about it.
Her... her body looked as, though,
somebody had laid it out and...
her... her blood was bright pink.
[mysterious music playing]
What are you doing?
[Jean] Someone will need to inform
her relatives.
There may be something in here.
An address book or...
It's from Lady Violet.
"Dear, cousin Débora.
I'm sorry to hear of your situation
and I'm able to offer you
the position of housekeeper
companion on a salary
of five pounds per month
plus board.
Please find enclosed
a second-class ticket."
Not so hoity-toity after all.
- Poor woman.
- Poor enough to resort to theft.
You're not suggesting that
Miss Fitz D'Arcy stole a jewel.
And if she's the thief,
then who k*lled her?
Who or what?
[spooky music playing]
[music fades]
[whimsical music playing]
[camera shutter clicking]
Nifty, isn't it?
The very latest
photographic technology.
Thought it might amuse my parents,
they're quite a tough audience.
Peel it apart, will you?
I only left you for a couple
of hours, now,
I've got a corpse
to add to our troubles.
Cause of death is a puncture wound
to the stomach.
She bled out.
Why is the blood pink?
[Sister Boniface] Extreme cold
causes the erythrocytes
to haemolyse,
causing the extreme change
in colour.
Care to have a s*ab
at the m*rder w*apon.
- Oh.
- [chuckles]
Too obvious?
It wasn't a Kn*fe.
There's an abrasion rim.
Radial tears.
I'd say we're looking for something
sharpish and cylindrical.
[Gillespie] Time of death?
[Sister Boniface]
Well, there's no rigor mortis
and the body still feels
somewhat warm.
Allowing for peripheral shutdown
due to blood loss
in the stream...
About 30 minutes.
Presenting a conundrum.
Because during that time,
everyone was on the train.
- Are you sure?
- [Sister Boniface] Quite sure.
How intriguing.
In addition to an impossible theft,
we now have an impossible m*rder.
[music builds up, fades]
Stabbed!
- By who?
- When?
Given the body was still warm,
I estimate,
within the last half hour.
[Mr Ray]
But we were all on the train.
Well, what about the blood?
He said it wasn't natural.
My father thinks Miss Fitz D'Arcy
stole the Jewel
and was slain
by an avenging genie.
There... there's a perfectly good
scientific explanation for that.
The extreme cold
causes the airy-dodytes
to molocularise.
Meaning the blood looks
salmon pink.
[mischievous music playing]
Well, that makes perfect sense.
Which brings me to the very
unsupernatural conclusion.
We have a stowaway.
- [mysterious music playing]
- [birds chirping]
[exclaims] Why have you got an axe?
Stand back!
Inspector! Inspector, we got him!
Stand back!
[Gillespie] Police!
You're surrounded.
There's no need
for anyone to get hurt.
Now, drop the w*apon.
What's your name?
- Nicholas Foster.
- Is that blood on his shirt?
No, I don't... I don't know
where it came from.
- It came from the dead woman.
- What?
[Fawcett] You nicked that Jewel.
She must have seen you.
So, you k*lled her.
[Ranulph]
What have you done with it?
I'm not a thief.
I didn't k*ll anyone.
Permission to b*at the truth
out of him, sir.
- No.
- Someone grab her.
Enough!
No one is getting beaten up.
Now, you come with me.
And you. And we'll
finish this off in private.
Erm, I expect you'll
be testing the stains
to confirm if it's blood.
Can you do that?
Yes. Right.
Perhaps,
I can bring you a clean shirt.
[whimsical music playing]
And what if they try
to make a run for it?
Where would they run to?
[eerie music plays, fades]
Don't you remember him coming
into the cafe?
I didn't recognise him
with his clothes off.
- You weren't looking at his face.
- [bell chiming]
So, he wasn't a vagrant then?
We're treating it
as a m*rder investigation.
But it's Christmas Eve.
We know. [exhales]
So, if there's anything
you remember
which can help identify him.
He had oxtail soup
and toad in the hole,
followed by Bakewell tart
and custard.
The bill was five shillings
and eight pence.
And he didn't leave a tip.
And this, the season of giving.
Then he had the cheek to ask
to use the telephone.
[scoffs]
I hope you gave him a short shrift.
I said it was out of order.
And I directed him
to the nearest telephone box.
- Bravo, Dottie.
- [chuckles]
What time was this?
Just as I was closing up,
at 5:30.
Thank you, Miss Thimble.
You've been very helpful.
I'll get on to
the telephone exchange, Sarge.
Thank you. [exhales]
Is there any word on the inspector?
I mean, surely,
they must have found them by now.
The snowploughs,
they're trying to get through.
I do hope you'll both be back
in time to decorate the tree.
I'm ever so sorry to disturb you.
I hope you don't mind.
[whimsical music playing]
[exhales]
Now,
let's see what we have here then.
[water burbling]
We planned to meet on the train.
Then get off just before Cholsey.
Can you tell me
why you were running away?
Why'd you think?
And you couldn't afford
the train ticket?
[Nick] I lost my job.
I'm an apprentice electrician.
Carol's dad called my boss
and said
I've been harassing his daughter.
Still doesn't explain
why you chose to elope
during the worst snowstorm
in living memory.
Or why you were going alone
to your aunt at Christmas
on a one-way ticket.
[footsteps approaching]
Right. Well, I tested this.
Erm,
according to your instructions,
and, erm, it's insoluble.
So, not blood.
Probably,
some kind of oil-based rust.
I told you.
I'm afraid that it only proves
that it's not blood.
As the only one without an alibi
at the time of the m*rder,
I've got no choice
but to detain you
until we can verify your stories.
It isn't us you should be accusing.
We heard the two of them talking.
[mysterious music playing]
[orchestral music playing]
The bells have thawed.
♪ Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la ♪
Ah, praise be to God.
Our bodies may fast,
but our souls are nourished.
About that,
some of us were thinking...
Could this be another sign
from the Holy Spirit?
You may be right.
Hallelujah.
So, Christmas is back on?
[Reverend Mother stammers]
I think what she meant was,
this may be a sign that God has
blessed our endeavours.
Is that not right, Sister Peter?
- Er... Yes, Reverend Mother.
- [Reverend Mother] Uh-huh.
[orchestral music concludes]
Tell everyone what you told me.
We were in the livestock car
when we overheard them talking.
- What are we gonna do?
- I don't know.
Well, as soon as we're rescued,
you know what will happen?
Well, then we should leave
before they get here.
Leave? We don't even know
where we are.
[Jean] You promised me.
[Ray] I broke no promises.
If Sir Swinton finds out
what I did,
do you think he'll ever forgive me?
Tell me honestly.
Did you take the jewel?
[suspenseful music playing]
- [exhales]
- Jean. After all this time...
You were part of the family.
It isn't what you think.
You don't wanna know what I think.
[clears throat]
If you will permit me to explain?
I am Prince Harinder
Jarasandha Ray.
Envoy to the Maharaja
of Kashaktar.
We believe the stone,
you know as the Star of the Orient,
is a holy relic of my nation.
Now, watch out.
He may have a w*apon.
The Eye of Shiva.
Bestower of peace and prosperity.
For centuries, it was guarded
in a sacred temple.
Then in 1863, the temple was looted
and the jewel plundered.
After that, we suffered
mutiny and famine,
world wars, and partition.
You believe the jewel
will restore your fortunes.
I believe in the power of the mind.
Those that doubt, fail.
While faith will bring success.
We've been scouring the world
for it ever since.
And are prepared to pay any price
for its return.
Including stealing it?
I am no thief. Merely an emissary.
We received word
the British Museum
had been offered a stone
matching its description.
And I was sent to negotiate
with Sir Swinton.
But he refused every overture.
Because it is not for sale.
- How much did he pay you?
- Nothing. It wasn't like that.
Miss Smythe
merely provided details
of your journey.
It was my last chance to intercede.
I'd hoped if you'd heard me out,
you would change your mind.
Why did you help him, Miss Smythe?
I'm not superstitious.
I've certainly never believed
in ghosts and curses.
But since that jewel appeared,
it felt like a pool of evil
descended on us.
[exhales] I thought you should hear
the facts
before you did something
you'd regret.
I don't employ you
to make decisions for me.
In fact, from here on in,
consider yourself unemployed,
and I shall make sure
you never work again.
[mysterious music playing]
[Sister Boniface]
And then it struck me,
The Tea-Leaf
by Edgar Alfred Jepson.
A locked-room mystery classic.
I'll put it on my reading list.
Death by icicle,
explaining why the body
was still warm when you found it.
The icicle staunched the wound
and when the heat
of her body melted it,
she bled out.
[exhales]
And here is home
to our m*rder w*apon. Look.
[mysterious music playing]
[birds chirping]
And mistletoe.
Which could have been dislodged
from the tree
when the m*rder*r snapped off
the icicle.
Well, that's strange.
[Gillespie] What is that?
I don't know.
Which is what makes it strange.
Of course, you realised
this puts back
the time of death
by approximately 30 minutes.
I'm gonna need an account
of all your movements.
What he's saying?
He's saying any
of us could have done it.
Who's the last person
to see Miss Fitz D'Arcy?
When she escorted me back
to the train
and then said she wanted
to take a walk.
Was there anybody else
on the train?
Swinton, but I... I think he was...
taking a nap.
- You're accusing me of snoring?
- [chuckles]
It's more of a whistle.
After about a half an hour
it had started snowing,
so, everybody came back
to the train.
Which is when we notice
Miss Fitz D'Arcy was missing.
We were about to send out
a search party.
When Fawcett returned
with the news.
I'm gonna need detailed
statements from all of you.
Does that mean I'm not
under arrest anymore?
Well, it doesn't mean you're
off the hook.
However,
given this new information,
you're no more under suspicion
than anyone else.
[mischievous music playing]
Any luck identifying yet?
No, the pattern has
a strange symmetry.
It's almost man-made.
How did you get on?
Well, Swinton and Abigail
were on the train.
But according to Abigail,
Swinton was asleep.
Well, he could have slipped out
without her knowing.
Hmm. Carol and Nick
were together which means nothing.
Are they Romeo and Juliet
or babyface Bonnie and Clyde.
But they were very swift
to point their finger
at Mr. Ray And Miss Smythe.
Who along with Ranulph
don't have alibis?
They all claim
to be milling around outside,
but none of them can vouch
for each other
during the crucial time.
So, if we can assume
that the jewel thief
and m*rder*r, one and the same,
and that Sir Swinton
is telling the truth
about not revealing
the combination...
- Then how did they steal the jewel?
- Exactly.
Find the thief
and we find the m*rder*r.
If you could assume
Sir Swinton's position,
entering combination.
If you tell me what we're doing.
Seeing if there's any way
he could have been observed.
- All right.
- [safe locker clicks]
[door creaks]
- [safe lockers clicks]
- [door creaks]
[exhales] Nothing to be seen here.
[birds chirping]
Well, there aren't
any footholds.
Hello.
What have we here?
Is it me or is there something
very strange about that woman?
What is it?
[Sister Boniface]
Looks like sawdust.
Thrown from the train,
and then stuck to the window frame.
The question is,
where did it come from?
Can you find out?
Might have slipped your mind,
but I'm without my usual
diagnostic kit.
[exhales]
I got a present for you.
Oh, what is it?
I can't tell you.
It'll ruin the surprise. Come on.
[exhales]
I say old chap,
any chance of a cupper?
Right you are sir.
But I'm afraid we are down
to our last half package
of shortbread fingers.
- [exhales]
- [Jean] Sir Swinton
needs food
to take his medication.
My health is no longer
any concern of yours.
I suppose we could
always burn down the train.
Er...
All right,
keep your trousers on, Fawcett.
- I was joking.
- [inhales sharply] Ow!
- What is it? What's wrong?
- I'm fine.
Forgive me,
but you don't look fine.
Could she have been poisoned?
- Is it the baby?
- It can't. It's too soon.
- I can't.
- It isn't due for two months.
It seems your baby has other ideas.
Ow.
[grunts]
- Oh! [chuckles]
- [chuckles]
I bought it for my niece.
She's only four,
but it's never too early to start.
[soft music playing]
Wrong one. [exhales]
Just what I wanted for Christmas.
- [chuckles]
- [chuckles]
Erm, we have a problem.
You poor things.
Why didn't you tell us?
That explains a lot.
They were sending me to a home
for unmarried mothers
to have the baby.
Hence the one-way ticket.
We would be married,
but she's only 16,
and needs her parent's permission.
He didn't want a brown baby
in the family.
[gasps] They could make me
throw it after it's born.
[lamp buzzes]
Er, that's the power
from the generator out.
Well, how long
before we freeze to death?
- Well...
- That's not gonna happen.
Help will arrive soon.
It's been 24 hours, surely,
they'd have found us by now.
- Hush!
- [bells ringing]
Listen. I'd recognise
these bells anywhere.
The troubles lead a backstroke.
And given the wind is blowing east,
that means St. Vincents is only
but a few miles southwest
to the crow flies.
We can't track cross country
for miles
when there's more snow coming.
It will be su1c1de.
- Ow! [gasps]
- [exhales sharply]
We could rig a signal.
Of course,
why didn't we think of that.
Should we run up a red flag?
No, the signal lights still on.
Maybe I could harness
the power from it.
The cable, there's cable
and the lights on the carriage.
Good idea. You two go with him.
Meanwhile, I'm going to walk
the track to see
if I can find another phone.
- I'll come with you, sir.
- All right.
[gasps] Ow!
[intense music playing]
- There, there.
- [gasps]
[telephone ringing]
Henry Medwick,
your goods logistics.
Good afternoon, DS Livingstone,
Great Slaughter Police.
I believe you received a phone call
from a public telephone box
at approximately 6:00 p.m.
The night before last.
Yes. Er, an employee checking
his travel details.
He was hired to accompany a cargo
to London.
A cargo?
Yeah, we provide security escorts
for the shipment of valuable goods.
I have some bad news.
We found the body last night
- and we believe it may be him.
- [telephone ringing]
- In Great Slaughter?
- Yes.
[chuckles]
But no, that is impossible.
I... I met him
on the train yesterday
when I accompanied the safe
to Gloucester Vale.
What was in the safe?
I suppose we'll have to wait
till next year.
[scoffs] Still, at least we know
what's behind it.
[clock ticking]
Sister Reginald. Look.
I've never seen that star
that bright.
Maybe Reverend Mother's right.
God sees our purpose
and has sent us a sign.
It's a miracle.
Is it hell as like.
Come on.
Morse code?
Well, I'm no expert
but even I know
what dot, dot, dot, dat...
[stammers]
I'll inform the authorities.
- [telephone statics]
- [Reverend Mother exhales]
God!
What can we do without help?
They may freeze to death.
Fetch food, thermoses,
and blankets.
Where are we going?
We will follow that star.
[mystical music playing]
Interesting.
Oh, I see.
Oh, dear.
[panting] There's a phone.
It's working.
[pensive music playing]
Agreeable as our acquaintance
has been,
it's time for you and I
to part company.
Sit.
There's no need for v*olence.
[Fawcett] Not as clearly
a need for some.
But you've been a pleasure
to serve, Inspector.
Er, which is why
I'm not going to k*ll you.
- [wind whooshing]
- [ethereal music playing]
It's getting worse.
[grunts]
How about marching song, eh?
- Keep our spirits up.
- Excellent idea, Sister Reginald.
♪ Onward, Christian soldiers
- ♪ Jingle bells, jingle bells...
- ♪ Marching as to w*r ♪
♪ ...Jingle all the way ♪
[all] ♪ Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!
♪ Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
[Sister Reginald chuckling]
[all] ♪ Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, hey! ♪
[telephone ringing]
A ruby worth three million pounds.
Wouldn't mind that
in my Christmas stocking.
So, our victim's name
is Stanley Fawcett.
He worked as a Pullman steward
for the security firm.
k*ller m*rder*d him
and took his place.
Yeah, but there's something
about this case
that I just can't put
my finger on.
I know what you mean, Sarge.
Do you know?
I think I've got it.
Do you remember in February
when we got the alert
from the Gloucester police
about the theft
of the Earlan Orton's painting.
Hmm. The Rembrandt.
- [telephone ringing]
- [indistinct chatter]
I think you might be
onto something, Peggy.
- Can you dig out that file for me?
- On it, Sarge.
Thank you.
[breathes heavily]
[pensive music playing]
All this time you had
three million pounds
under your hat.
You weren't supposed to wake up.
My error.
I should have hit you harder.
- Shame.
- [Fawcett] It is for you.
Now, I'm going to have to k*ll you.
[Gillespie] Wait.
- At least tell me how you stole it?
- I don't share trade secrets.
I think I can explain.
Once I'd worked it out,
it was clear
there was only one person
with the opportunity
to engineer it.
Put the g*n down, Sister.
I believe this is what's known
as a standoff.
Then while we wait,
the floor is yours.
The sawdust,
transpired to be oak veneer
on Pine with traces of varnish.
Matching that on the door,
I examined it, you see.
I found signs that the spyhole
had been unscrewed.
Then it was only a matter
of reversing it.
After gaining the combination,
it was a simple matter
to switch it back again.
Simple but ingenious.
Very good, Sister.
If you are even a nun.
Oh, assuredly so and have
no experience with firearms.
So, even though I would
be aiming at your leg
but chances of me missing
and hitting a vital organ
is statistically quite high.
Put it down
and she's not lying to you.
She's no thr*at to you,
you can let her go.
As someone who's career rests
on remaining incognito,
I beg to defer.
And now, regrettably,
I must k*ll you both.
- Ladies first.
- [gasps]
- No!
- [g*nsh*t]
[intense music playing]
[pants]
[Gillespie] For God's sake, Sister.
Put it down.
- It is real, and it is loaded.
- [g*nsh*t]
[glass shatters]
A little help here
would be appreciated. [groans]
Intriguing.
So, Fawcett was our thief.
Begging the question,
who k*lled Miss Fitz D'Arcy,
given he has a cast iron alibi?
- [grunts]
- Oh, sorry.
[Peggy] Ten months ago,
a Rembrandt was stolen
from the Earlan Orton, by a man
masquerading as a restorer,
who was subsequently
found m*rder*d.
Believed to be the work
of Pontius Blake,
an international thief
and a master of disguise.
He's wanted by Interpol.
And you think he's on
this missing train with Gillespie?
[Peggy] Yes, sir.
The Rescue Services
still can't get through
to locate them. It's thirty miles.
So, we're looking
for a needle in the haystack.
In a blizzard.
Well...
- [wind whooshing]
- [sombre music playing]
[Sister Peter]
I don't think we can get there.
We've come too far
to go back again. So...
We're damned if we do
and we're damned if we don't.
[panting]
Often wondered how I'd go.
But I have to say,
freezing to death in a blizzard,
wasn't high on the list.
Quiet, Sister Reginald.
I think the time
for flippancy is over.
And the time for prayer begun.
Our Father...
[all] Who art in heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
[Reverend Mother]
Thy will be done...
[Sister Peter] Thy will be done...
[Reverend Mother]
On earth as it is in heaven.
[Sister Peter pants]
On earth as it is in heaven.
[all muttering]
[mystical music playing]
[Gillespie] It was Fawcett.
[Mr Ray] Fawcett isn't
who we thought, it seems.
And now, he's escaped
with the jewel.
It has a habit of making
its way back.
Sister Boniface, we need your help.
Her contractions
are getting closer together.
- I'm no expert, but...
- I'm on my way, Miss Smythe.
Erm, hot towels.
In the meantime,
keep that signal going.
[ethereal music playing]
[engine revving]
Ah...
- Is it an angel?
- [chuckles]
[man shouting indistinctly]
Oh!
[Sister Boniface]
Oh, yes. Look. Here's one.
Good.
[suspenseful music playing]
Strange.
Inspector, can I have a word?
Miss Fitz D'Arcy wasn't m*rder*d
because of the jewel.
It was an entirely
different motive.
What am I looking at?
I think it's a glove mark
where they rested their hand
on a tree trunk
while reaching for the icicle.
- Are you sure?
- Not at all.
The image was far too fuzzy.
But there is one way
of finding out.
Lights, please.
Up a bit.
Left a bit.
Down a smidgen. Stop.
Don't move.
Oh, yes.
The wood cells have changed
where the roots were invaded.
- [engine revving]
- [chuckles softly]
Ow! [whimpers]
- Sister Boniface.
- [Sister Boniface] Reverend Mother.
- Oh, it's a long story.
- Spare me.
It appears there's
a young woman in labour.
We have to get her
into a hospital.
How far apart
are the contractions?
[whimpers] About two minutes.
Oh, then you aren't going anywhere.
Unless you want to give birth
in the back of a tractor.
Er...
I predict baby will be with us
within the hour.
Why are you looking
at me like that?
I was trained in the midwifery.
So, er, chop chop.
Er, scissors, surgical scissors,
and sheets and the blankets.
- [Carol whimpers]
- Oh, and, er,
space enough for you to lie down.
And, er, this'll do.
[scoffs] Our baby is not being born
with the animals.
If it was good enough
for St. Joseph,
then it's good enough for you.
You found us.
Hey, thank, Tom.
He was out in the fields,
feeding the sheep.
[sheep bleating]
♪ Do, do, do, da, da, da
Do, do, do, da, da, da ♪
[chuckles] Nice one, Tom.
There's something
I need to show you.
[pensive music playing]
[Livingstone] We found him less
than a mile from here.
No signs of any injury.
He must have frozen.
Except for the expression
on his face.
It was like he was frightened
to death.
We found this...
clutched in his hands.
[chuckles softly]
[sighs] Sir Swinton.
Sir Swinton Usher.
I believe this is yours, sir.
No, I don't want it.
I'll fill you in later.
Button, could you please
gather everyone in the Pullman?
Sarge.
[exhales deeply]
Our error was assuming
Miss Fitz D'Arcy
had discovered our jewel thief
when in fact,
there's another imposter.
[mysterious music playing]
You have my word,
I did not touch her.
Don't look at me.
I'm looking at you, Mrs Usher.
Can you explain
what you were doing
at the crime scene?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
I have your glove here.
It's riddled
with mistletoe parasite.
From the tree
the m*rder w*apon came from.
How could you possibly know that?
I've been economical
with the truth.
Sister Boniface is our police
scientific advisor.
As well as being a nun.
Are you insane, man.
She's blind.
Then how can she explain this?
Tropicamide.
It's a pupil dilator used
in cycloplegic refractions.
When did you regain your sight,
Mrs Usher?
Three months ago.
When were you planning
on telling me?
[sighs] I knew
I couldn't hide it forever, but...
just a little while.
I didn't want to ruin it.
- Ruin what?
- [Abigail] Us.
For the first time in our marriage,
I had you all to myself.
Then Helena started writing,
asking you to get back to her.
[Ranulph] Oh, you read my letters.
Wasn't like you needed
to hide them from me.
Then Miss Fitz D'Arcy saw me.
[snoring]
[Ranulph snoring]
[gasps]
The next day she escorted me
back to the train
and suggested we take
a little walk,
so, we could talk in private.
I begged my soul to her.
Begged her to keep my secret,
so, I could tell you
in my own time,
once that woman was out
of our lives for good.
I sympathise, of course.
And naturally.
You may trust in my discretion.
I'm sure we can come to a mutually
beneficial arrangement.
Are you blackmailing me?
Nothing so vulgar.
Just a modest monthly stipend,
in return for services rendered.
- You're despicable.
- Easy for you to say.
You have a husband to cushion you.
Whereas I am obliged
to feather my own nest.
[exhales]
Perhaps, you need a moment
to think about it.
What choice did I have,
but to agree
to her sworded little blackmail.
Everything that happened after
was...
I could dream like I was outside
of my body watching it.
[eerie music playing]
I'm sure you've made
the right decision. [grunts]
- I'd never have left you, Abigail.
- [Abigail whimpers]
Blind or not.
Call it an epiphany,
but there's nothing like
a near death experience
to make one re-evaluate
one's priorities.
[exhales]
What you saying?
[Ranulph] Me, us.
I couldn't change
what had happened,
but I could be a better man.
And somewhat to my surprise
I discovered
being a better man suited me.
- [chuckles softly]
- [chuckles softly]
It's a lot less stressful for one.
Oh, we were happy Abigail.
[Abigail whimpers]
Abigail Usher, I'm arresting you
for the m*rder
of Débora Fitz D'Arcy.
You're not obliged to say anything,
but anything you do say
maybe written down
and given as evidence.
- Push.
- [Carol whimpers]
Oh, well-done.
- Perhaps, a little more effort...
- [Carol whimpers]
...next time.
Well, you kept that quiet.
I never had you down as a midwife.
I started my vocation
in a midwifery order
before I realised
it wasn't for me.
[Carol whimpers]
It's not the babies I minded
so much as the mother's...
[Carol whimpers]
...who always insisted on
making such a fuss.
Oh, I can't do it anymore.
I can't. I can't
Oh, it's only childbirth.
You aren't Sir Edmund Hillary
on the summit of Mount Everest
- [Carol whimpers, pants]
- Er...
Er, Carol,
I want you to stop pushing.
- What... Is... is something wrong?
- It will be...
if you don't do as you're told.
Now, the baby's head
is facing the wrong way.
So, I need to turn the baby round.
So...
[grunts]
Don't push, do not push.
Er...
Er, pant, pant as quick as you can.
[pants]
[pants]
Er, big... big breaths,
er, like you're...
like you're blowing out a candle.
[all pant]
Now, now, I want you to push
as hard as you can.
Hard.
- Push.
- [whimpers]
- [screams, whimpers]
- [Reverend Mother] Push, push.
- Push, push. Push, push.
- [Reverend Mother] Push, push.
- Push.
- [Reverend Mother] Push.
- [screeches]
- As hard as you can. Push.
- [sisters gasp]
- [pants]
[gasps, chuckles]
- [Reverend Mother chuckles]
- [Carol pants]
You have a beautiful daughter.
[chuckles] And I'm no expert,
but it looks like someone got
their dates wrong.
- It's quite a bouncer.
- [chuckles]
Is... is something wrong?
Why isn't she crying?
Oh, there'll be plenty
of time for that.
Later on. Don't you worry.
Jesus! She's dead, isn't she?
- [pants]
- [Reverend Mother grunts]
She's, er...
She's, er...
She's a naughty little baby.
It's what she is.
- [Carol pants]
- Oh, then Madam.
No trouble from you
or you'll have me to deal with.
[pants]
- [baby cries]
- [sighs]
[exhales] Sensible girl.
[all chuckle]
[baby coos]
[all exhale]
- [baby coos]
- [exhales]
[Carol chuckles, pants]
[Ranulph] I'm beginning
to think you were right.
[Mr Ray]
Maybe the damn thing is cursed.
Take it. It's yours.
You may name your price.
Keep your money.
It was never mine to begin with.
With the jewel,
I received William Usher's
su1c1de letter
to his brother, Julian
and his confession.
He and a fellow officer looted
the jewel from a temple
like common thieves.
His partner in crime
d*ed shortly after
and William brought the stone back
to England,
claiming he'd won it
in a card game.
His heirs were sworn
to secrecy for fear
- of ruining the family name.
- [dramatic music playing]
It isn't the jewel,
it's our family that is cursed
for the sins of the past.
Let's pray this brings
an end to it.
Thank you.
We will be needing the receipt.
Sorry.
Where would we be
without you, Jean?
Oh, well,
you better get on with it.
Right away, Sir Swinton.
[goat bleating]
[donkey snorts]
[divine music playing]
- [Mr Ray] Congratulations.
- [music fades]
[all] Congratulations.
Have you decided on a name?
We're gonna name her
after the Reverend Mother.
Oh, yes, erm, Adrienne.
Very pretty.
No. After her christened name.
[chuckles] Wagons roll.
We need to get you
somewhere warm and dry,
and a decent meal inside ya.
- Where are you taking me?
- I won't let them take our baby.
You... you have no job
and we have nowhere to live.
How are we supposed to stop them?
We'll have less
of the defeatist attitude.
Thank you.
Sister Reginald.
There's the old
Ground Keeper's Cottage.
It's bit worn and torn,
but nothing a lick
of paint won't fix.
And we have always work
for handyman around the place.
It will do 'til you get
your feet on the ground.
And a ring
on the young lady's finger.
But rest assured,
the little Hephzibah
is going nowhere.
- Oh.
- Charming.
And how wonderful
to have baby Hephzibah
for Christmas.
Well, don't hold your breath.
Christmas is cancelled.
Ain't that right, Reverend Mother?
[donkey grunts, brays]
A baby is born to us
this auspicious night.
How can God not want us all
to celebrate?
- [chuckles]
- [soft music playing]
What's wrong with you?
May I congratulate you
on a truly top job?
Two murders, a jewellery theft,
and the apprehension
of Interpol's most wanted
or be it dead rather than alive.
We brought Brandy.
For medicinal purposes.
Thank goodness, you're safely back
and in the nick of time.
- Listen.
- [bell tolling]
[all gasp]
It's Christmas Day.
- [chuckles]
- Happy Christmas.
Happy Christmas.
Of course, we have a prisoner
in custody
who we can't move
until the roads have cleared.
So, someone's going to
be playing guard duty.
Obviously, Gillespie can't,
I mean, just look at you.
You're in no fit state.
- I appreciate that, sir.
- Hmm.
- So?
- [Livingstone] I'll do it.
You know, Christmas is the time
for family and I believe
that Peggy and CC Lowsley
should be with theirs.
I'm really sorry,
Mrs Clam and Miss Thimble
for all the trouble
you have gone through.
Of course, it's only right
that they should be
with their families. [sniffs]
Oh, thanks, Sarge.
I'll bring you
some Christmas dinner.
My mum makes the best roast turkey
in Great Slaughter.
Er, no offence to Mrs Clam
or Mrs Lowsley intended.
No, none taken.
She maybe the queen of my heart
but no one could describe her
as the queen of the kitchen.
[hesitates]
I will hold fort.
But your wife.
She fortunately has got
her mother for company,
so, you can all drink, eat,
and be merry.
Consider it my Christmas present
to my...
to... to... to... to you all.
[group chuckles]
- [telephone rings]
- [bell tolling in distance]
- [Sister Boniface] Mother.
- Oh, it's you. It's her.
- Did you get lost?
- Did you get lost?
There's a very long story.
I'm very sorry
that I couldn't make it.
[Vivienne] Oh, well,
it don't matter,
your sister's concert was cancelled
because of the bad weather.
They're all here.
- Everything's tickety-boo.
- [chuckles] I have to go, darling.
We're playing Bach Sarabande
to the baby.
I'm almost certain
he's got perfect pitch.
[telephone dings]
[birds chirping]
[dings]
Merry Christmas, Mother.
[orchestral music playing]
Merry Christmas, sir.
Oh.
[chuckles]
Er, Reindeer.
[Livingstone]
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Erm...
- Bambi.
- Strip poker.
No, it's a play.
- Midsummer Night's Dream.
- Yes!
- [chuckles]
- [Gillespie] Your turn.
[Livingstone chuckles] Okay.
Okay, so, er... [sniffs]
- Film.
- Film.
No, no. It's... it's...
it's a play.
- Play. You can't talk.
- Play.
[all] One word.
- Two syllables.
- The Importance of Being Earnest.
- [group chuckles]
- [Mrs Clam] Dottie, really?
Top up, ladies.
Oh, I think we've had enough,
don't you, Dottie?
Chin-chin.
Oh, well,
I suppose it is Christmas.
- Merry Christmas.
- [laughs]
Merry Christmas.
[overlapping chatter]
Right, let's get a photo.
Everyone, shall we?
Everyone? Gather around. Sisters.
Gather around.
Everyone, see me. Sisters?
- And say, "Season's greetings."
- [camera shutter clicks]
[group] Season's greetings.
- Perfect.
- [music concludes]
[theme music playing]
[theme music concludes]
03x00 - The Star of the Orient
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Sister Boniface is a Catholic nun at St. Vincent's Convent in the fictional town of Great Slaughter in the Cotswolds who has a PhD in forensic science, allowing her to serve as a scientific adviser to the local police on investigations.
Sister Boniface is a Catholic nun at St. Vincent's Convent in the fictional town of Great Slaughter in the Cotswolds who has a PhD in forensic science, allowing her to serve as a scientific adviser to the local police on investigations.