01x06 - Such Devoted Sisters - Part Two

[bunniefuu]

Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke.
Tinkerty-tonk.

Who was he? Victor all met
him before an air raid. 41.

It is true. I switched the glasses.
He drank the poison meant for one of us.

Nafije and Ruhije. We'd be ever so
grateful if you'd just keep an eye on

them. This was the third attempt
on our life since we left New York.

The first thing you must do is arrest
that c*ck waiter and you must bring

in any others on the staff.
You have a reservation?

Uh, no. My wife does.
Your wife.

time for a little chat.
What does Jack know?

My wife and I have an arrangement and that
I knew his late father. Nothing more.

And should we trust you?
Well, I suppose you'll find out.

When the next assassin comes.

Hello again. Hello. Fizz for them, I presume.

Who is it? It's me.

Champagne.

We did not order champagne.

One more step and I’ll…

Well, let's all calm down, should we?.

Bloody hell, that hurts.
You okay?

You shut up, you bloody cop-out, you lunatic.
I thought you had the g*n. It

was a champagne bottle.
Oh god.

Am I going to die?
It's just a graze.

Luckily for you, your royal Highness,
this is a very, very regrettable

incident, Miss? Eadie Rattle.

Miss Eadie, we live under the constant
threat of assassination. The black

mantle of death hovers over us like the London fog.
Sometimes we make mistakes

out of fear. You must forgive us.
Oh, you shouldn't forgive them. You

should press charges.
Don't tell me what to do. Okay, I've had

enough of it. I've simply had enough of it.
We understand, dear.

Do you? Because I've just ended a shift
that started with a pass and ended with

me getting fired. Fired?

I’ve been handed my cards, haven't I?
What? Why? What for?

Because someone sabotaged
the boilers, tipped

linseed oil into them.
Yeah, but why would they think that

that's you? I have a motive.
Mr. Kind gave me a

mouthful for standing up to that b*stard.
Now I've been shot. Please

shot. What's that?

Morphine tartrate. I'm not going to have
you jabbing me like a bloody pin cushion.

It will ease your pain. I'll live.
And if you do think that I'm just going to hop

on the night bus and say, "Oh,
it must be beastly that your

country hates your guts and you're
forced to slum it out here in the Walsingham."

Well, think again, ladies. No wonder you're
so nervous around the working classes.

You damn well ought to be.

I'll have that morphine, now.

Ow. So, dear Rattle,
what do you suggest?

I'll stay here tonight
in the royal suite.

There are only two beds.
Then I'll have the biggest and I'll have

breakfast in it.
I think that's a very modest demand

considering the b*ll*ts in the wall.
I know the importance of the rules of

hospitality in your country.
I've been reading up on them.

That's right, Mr. Book. At home,
we are obliged to take in those who need shelter.

During the w*r, many British officers were
parachuted into our territory. None were betrayed.

I'll sleep on the sofa.

Right now which one of you is
lending me your toothbrush?

I'll get someone to come
and have a look at this.

It's good to see you, Jack.

We lost him.
We never really knew him. Of

course, it was impossible to predict
how he'd react, but I was hoping for

sympathy? Understanding.

That's just the way it is with some people.
They get down on a thing when

they don't know nothing about it.
Huckleberry Finn.

Top marks. You can sleep on the left.
I like that Eadie. She's sharp.

Sharp as her nibs.
The princess.

Busy day tomorrow.
Bliss has arrested Guzili.

Oh, it's a mistake.
So, I suspect I'll spend

the morning showing him why.
Clever clogs.

If the shoe fits.
Oh, it's the Dinaric Alps, by the way. Hey,

it's the Dinaric Alps, my
love, not the Carpathians.

As I said, clever clogs.

Book.

finished with that mag sergeant?
Bagged and labelled, sir. We'll return it

in due course. Take a seat.

Are you going to charge me?
Oh, there's plenty of time for that.

I've said it all already.
It's in my

statement. Oh,
just one thing before we start. Uh,

Mr. Book here will be joining us.
He's a specialist.

Mr. Guzili, it's very important that you
use this interview to tell us the truth.

Cuz if you don't, I can't be held
accountable for the consequences.

We know about your affair with Eadie Rattle.
She's given us a statement and

in doing so has given us a a possible
motive, a reason for you to k*ll Captain Orr.

because he made a pass at Eadie.
It must happen like three times a day.

What business are you in exactly?
The antiquarian book business.

I've read the Kanun of Scutari.
Have you?

I know it. Live by it.
It was very important to my village.

Let's start then.
If I said we were going to give you the

third degree, what would you expect?
A kicking out by the bins.

Snake in the grass.
What did you say?

Forget the third degree. Snake in the grass.
Come on. I'm waiting.

Vodka? at last.

Creme de menthe. Lime juice. Uh, lemonade.
Where's my ice? It went in first.

Are you shaking this drink? Come on.
Come on, Mr. Guzili. This is

the Walsingham .
Are you shaking this drink?

I'm stirring it.
I'm stirring it. Attaboy.

Attaboy. I know that. French vermouth,
dry gin, grenadine, four dashes, shaken.

And what would you
put in a p*nsy?

Um, anisette?. No, no, no.
Mr. Guzili,

look, I'm still on probation.
I'm not an expert.

I'd say you're not,
but nor are you a m*rder*r.

Well, what what what makes you say that?
Because he left a dirty great

fingerprint on the upper part of one
of those glasses. And a good c*ck

waiter, as well as knowing how to mix a
third degree always handles a rock glass

lower down. You made the drink for the
captain, which is when you left your

fingerprint on his glass. But the drink was not deadly.
I'm sorry if this sounds

insulting, Mr. Guzili, but you have yet
to acquire the skill to poison anyone in

a crowded bar in plain sight,
particularly with just a few seconds

between the inciting incident and the crime.
But I'm sure you'll get there. In

fact, I'd go so far as to say you
were already a model employee.

You're going to write me
a reference now, are you?

Why not? How long have the
princesses been in the hotel?

Four days. And you'd already noticed they
always reject the first drink, so you

made it out of tap water. Yes.
Some employers would promote a

member of staff so
concerned about wastage.

Well, Mr. Guzili,
seems like you can uh go and collect

your things. Yeah. Uh our friend here
is, uh, checking out, Sergeant Morris.

Very good, sir.

Well, now what?
Anyone could have got that hydrochloric

acid into the drink.
And Guzili was too clumsy to have done

it. As I discovered
late last night, the.

Kanun of Scutari has very strict rules
about hospitality. It's taboo to harm

anyone you consider your guest.
Captain Orr was Guzili’s guest, strictly speaking,

and the Kanun is very strict.
Did it Did it tell you anything else

useful? Oh, yes.
Insult my wife in front of the

headman of the village and you owe me a sheep.
If my wife insults you, I owe you

five.

Well, I find it's usually best if just
people are just nice to each other.

You were not in the army, were you?
You know where I was.

Well, no matter.
Straighten your spine, perhaps.

At the palace, a line of soldiers would
salute us just on our way into breakfast.

Oh, look at you: how the mighty have fallen.
And back then, we weren't always looking

over our shoulders.
We were at home with our own people.

You boy, you must fetch the inspector.
Why? What's happened?

Another threatening letter.

They got you. No. No.

Well, you've done all right.
They ordered in. No less than I deserve.

Sure enough.
Balkan mix apparently. Nice.

See those little gold
rings at the end there?

I'm a Capstan man myself.
Weren't you supposed to bring me for

that Bovril?
Well, I thought you had everything you

needed here.

It's a bit rich for my blood.

So, where was Miss Eadie Rattle
when the m*rder took place?

Uh, having a Woodbine outside
according to a statement. Having already

administered the poison
meant for the princesses.

According to my intelligence sources,
she's a fully paid up party member.

Communist?
Red as Lenin's combinations.

What? So,
she might have wanted them dead

on behalf of the new
ruling class of Scutari.

Then there's the other
sister, of course.

Other sister? Oh, yes.
There are three of them,

Inspector. Three sisters.

The kingdom divided,
exiled monarchs, I wonder.

Anyway, Princess Senije went
over to the other side.

So, it could be her striking the blow for the
workers by assassinating the siblings.

This is where we should be
looking in my opinion. Shop.

Yes. He liked the ladies, didn't he,
Captain Orr?

It's not how I would have put it.
Still

at least we have his
home number now. No.

Yes. This must be his wife.
Sylvia. How d’you know?

She's the only one
without a star rating.

Yeah. Well, there's another
familiar name in there, too.

Oh, as you say, sir. Oh,

M. Barbarini. 2nd of May 1940.
Ascot race course. Four stars, passionate

Italians, crossed out,
but still legible.

What do you mean? Obvious, isn't it?
Captain Orr didn’t just

like the ladies. He was a bit q*eer.
What you mean?

He traveled, as it were, on the 38 bus and the 43.
He met that Italian barman

at the races and had relations.
It's all there in black and white.

Met at the races. Eh, Ascot racecourse.
There is entry after

entry. What motive?

Blackmail.
Obviously, Captain Orr threatened to expose Barbarini.

Captain Orr's a married man.
It's all a bit It's a bit farfetched.

You never know with married men, sir.
What's your great theory then?

That would be telling, Sergeant.
But speaking of Mrs. Orr, I do think

someone should talk to her soon.
I'll ask Trottie if I may.

Wives always know.
Whatever husbands think. Message from

that lad, Jack.
Sir, princesses are requesting another audience.

A Winston Churchill mask. No.

An Ora flying helmet. A piccalilli jar
filled entirely with toenail clippings.

Oh yeah.
It's not for the faint of heart.

The life of a chambermaid,
but my dad ran a pub in Bala, so

I've seen it all.
And what about the m*rder?

I know. I was outside.
You see, you can't pin Victor Orr on me.

I wasn't trying to. Honest.
Pity I wasn't there, though.

I would have liked to
see that one go down.

So, you were saying, you got out of the
clink and then you went to work in a

bookshop. Yeah.

For Mr. Book. Yeah.

And now you're working for
the Scutari royal family.

Not for much longer, I don't reckon.
I ain't much cop as a bodyguard.

Got anything by Marx? Hey,

in your bookshop, Das Kapital,

volume four.
Now you're talking.

So, why'd you leave?
I just don't think they're my sort of

people. No.

Takes all sorts, you know.
As I say, the things I've seen in the Walsingham .

Maybe it's time you expanded
your horizons a bit, sunshine.

Let me know if you fancy that
Bovril sometime. Yeah?

so-called princesses.
My gorge rises as I see you in the

newspaper. Your decadent bones
draped in Madame Debavier,

which will soon drip with your filthy blood.
Yes, I can see why you might feel

discomforted.
So, what will you do about it,

my dear lady?
You will address me by my proper title.

Uh, do forgive the inspector, your royal highness.
The policeman is often a blunt

tool rather than a diplomat.
Perhaps I might.

As I have said, this is the latest of
many, dripping with venom. Our enemies,

their legion. Can they not let us rest?
Is it not enough that we are forced to

drag our weary bones around the world like phantoms?
You speak of the Kanun,

of hospitality.
But what are we to make of yours? What

welcome do we receive in your famous London?
Wretched food, wretched cold, a

bodyguard who fails to guard.
And now this.

I'll do what I can given
my limited resources.

Yes, of course.
And we're terribly sorry.

Well,
if that's the best you can do.

Oh, Miss Rattle.
Yes, Mr. Kind.

I heard about the unfortunate incident.
That's one way of describing it. I'm

okay, but I think I might indulge myself
a bit more in the cream of society. As

I've been fired,
I can use the hotel as a guest instead.

Meaning? their royal highnesses.
I'm to put

everything in their account.
Well, don't spend too much.

What? Nothing.
Um, Mr. Rattle.

Yes. Would you kindly
come and see me after

you've indulged yourself?
Okay, Mr. Kind.

Eadie, can we talk?

I do want to apologise for the quality
of the service today. The heating is

off. The menu is cold.
I'm deeply sorry,

Ismael. None of that is your fault.
Yeah, I'm afraid it is. It was caused by

the three bottles of linseed oil
that I stole from your cupboard.

But linseed oil is for polishing.
I use it for my newel posts and my dados.

Yes, I know. But I poured it into the generator.
I didn't poison Victor Orr, Eadie,

but I did poison the hotel.
I was so angry with myself, with with

that man, with this place.
So, I just thought I k*ll it.

I'm deeply sorry.
I shall confess everything to Mr. Kind.

And you will not
lose your job, Eadie.

Hah!

You? Me.

This isn't easy for me, as I'm sure you can imagine.
Of course, you've just lost

your husband. That boat sailed a long time ago, Mrs.
Book and you're not the

first of Victor's
conquests to telephone.

If it makes it any easier, he didn't.
Did what?

Conquer.

I used to come here all the
time, you know,

to watch him with
the latest model.

Madam,

you've read it?
To see oneself here assessed like

livestock. Do you think
he got what he deserved?

Well, not quite, but uh I
mean, what a pig he was.

Do you know, I'd think better of him if
it was a real diary? Something with a

bit of proper
adulterous passion.

Don't worry, my dear. I don't really blame you.
I mean, Victor had charm to

spare, in his day.
And I grew used to his adventures.

Numb to them.
So used to them, it became a sort of

hobby. That sound strange?

My marriage grew cold
and my life grew cold.

I don't really think I felt
anything since Dunkirk.

So, I'd come here where
there was light and laughter

usually. Did you not
worry that he, uh, might see

you?

Victor hadn't noticed me in years.
There was no reason to think he'd start now.

Is that how you were able to..?

What? The poison.

I mean, you were there. You You handed me that cloth.
It would have been easy

for you to administer it.
I didn't k*ll my husband, Mrs. Book.

I pitied Victor. I didn't despise him.
Then who did?

How was his w*r?
He did his service in Caro and a stint

in the Balkans. The Balkans.

And before that, he was here.
The home front.

Whereabouts? Ascot.

Ah, it is you.
Would it be..? What does that say?

Death to parasites.

Thank you for coming.
Everything's off. Kippers, kidneys,

kedgeree, and the radiators.
They're definitely off. Oh,

there's a selection of cold meat.
Splendid. Well, two of those then,

please. Waiter, do make sure they're
properly cold. I abhor

Inconsistency. Sir,

the service it is appalling.
Well, call me Marie Antoinette, but I was expecting

the lavatories to flush.
Still, the heating did come on for half an hour.

That was nice.
You said it was urgent, Mr. Book.

In a way, yes.
Are you any closer?

Closer to finding out
who tried to m*rder us.

No one tried to m*rder you.
But the letters, the threats.

You sent those.

What? You're mad.
How dare you? Do sit down,

princess.
The very idea that I

I said sit down.
I may be more of a diplomat than the

inspector. But there's only so much of
this exhausting hauteur I can stand.

When did you start sending the letters?
Not right away. I

imagine for a
while it was real.

When we fled our country,
there were eyes everywhere. We feared to eat or

drink. We lived day by day,
shoved into stinking cellars, the holds of filthy

ships. But the threat was
real, Mr. Book. In

New York, we were feted.
They love royalty there, as you know, precisely

because they have none of their own.
We were invited to all the right parties,

met all the right people.
But there is nothing more tragic than

exile, Mr. Book.
And nothing more pathetic.

After a time, the invitations dried up,
the parade moved on, and I realised that

we had gone from being in danger
to something far, far worse.

We had become irrelevant.

What did the newly risen Scutari have
to fear from us? Why would they send

assassins halfway across the globe to
make away with us? Why would anyone

bother?
But there is glamour in death, in

danger.
And, so, I began to write all those

letters both to us and to the
authorities of whichever poor nation we

were imposing ourselves upon.
I pay a woman here a modest fee to skulk around

the hotel,
dropping them off now and then.

Some suspected your other
sister might be behind those.

She's dead, Mr. Book.
I saw her shot in the face.

The communists never
really trusted her.

And I will not lose
another sister.

But then there was an actual poisoning.
I didn't know what to think. Nafije

swapped the glasses as always.
And then that man, that captain lying dead at our

feet. My mind, it raced.
Had it all become real?

But what else could I do
but continue as planned?

It was very well done.
Thank you.

At last though, the impression of your
sister's pen nibs is very distinctive.

Indeed. Music nib.
Narrow down strokes, broad

cross strokes for
writing musical notation.

And she's composing those rather sad
and lovely little tunes of hers and the

references to your wardrobe, too.
Rather specific for a desperate communist

assassin?
I couldn't help myself.

So, does this mean then that…
Captain Orr was the intended victim?

So, I have to ask, Mr. Book in the
spirit of your British stories.

Whodunnit?
Well, that is the question, dear lady.

Sir.

Not normally a fan of this sort of
thing, redolent of the kind of thriller

one finds in W. H. Smith.
However, sometimes it really is best to

gather everyone together. Unity of place, and all that.
So, on the night of the

m*rder, Mr. Guzili here set up
a first round of two drinks.

Yes. Which is rejected by the princesses
and goes down the sink. Now we come to

the brouhaha and a new character enters our drama.
Captain Victor Orr, kindly

represented here by Mr. Kind.
In you come, Miss Rattle, tell us what happened

next. Well,
there's Captain Watsit soaked in

Taittinger, and he's telling me he has
some extra duties for me, which seem to

involve me going to his room and leaving
with some money. So I decline, of

course, and I'm looking over at Ismail.
I'm looking at him because, well, I

think he might help me out.
Do the decent.

And he doesn't.
What happens next, Eadie?

Well, I'm thinking, is the captain going to hit me?
So, I tell him where to

get off and then he says something.
I don't know, some threat or other. I

wasn't listening. And that's
when Jack here came to my rescue.

Then I went outside for a smoke.
Thank you, Miss Rattle. So, Mr. Guzili then

sets up two more glasses for a new round.
Four Walsingham sours in total.

Three good ones and one, as we shall
see, about to have an extra ingredient.

But when precisely did one of these
drinks get a dash of hydrochloric acid?

Princess Nefije, you tell us that you
switched two of these glasses around.

Which two? Like this, Mr. Book.
One of ours for one

of theirs. Very good.
But you're not drinking yet,

are you? Because you want to see someone
else drink first, which is only prudent,

only sensible when there are so many assassins about.
So, you have to wait a

little while longer until
the distraction is over.

And this is the Russian roulette
moment, now, is it?

This was not a casual m*rder.
It was very carefully thought through. Now, we

know the poison was not in Mr. Guzili’s shaker.
We know the Princess Nefije

deserves no reproaches. All your royal
highness did was switch one perfectly

safe and effective Walsingham for another.
In fact, I would suggest that

none of these drinks would have produced anything worse
than a hangover until the incident with the coins.

That was the
moment of opportunity for someone here

to poison one of these c*ck.
The one that he was clearly about to be picked up.

Yes, there was no mistake.
Captain Orr had to die. Why, though?

Do you remember the Arandora Star?
Not our finest hour. I fear

she was torpedoed by the Jerry.
At the start the w*r.

July 2nd, 1940.
There was a set-to on board, wasn't

there? A lot of internees
being sent to Australia.

Canada. Canada.
Fighting amongst themselves.

Well, that's what it said
in the Daily Express.

In Parliament, too,
Mr. Book doesn't mean it's true. Indeed.

And amongst the passengers,

your sister, Maria,

Barbarini, M.


So it was her captain all met at the races.

Well,
there was no racing during the w*r.

Quite of course
ascots where they put

the regulation 18b lot, wasn't it?
English Nazis, German anti-Nazis, ice

cream men, spaghetti house vendors,
waiters who'd once said something

vaguely complimentary about the cut of Il Duce's jib.
All put under barbed wire

an internment camp.
What was the case against the

Barbarinis, though?
My parents were born in Italy.

So someone here claimed I was a fascist,
marched me out during service, sent up north.

Nobody protested,
particularly the man who ran the bar

here in the Blitz.
And your sister?

In 1938, my father said, "Why not spend
the summer with your Italian aunt, go to"

a beach with them, to the Campo Solare,
build fires, get some fresh air.

They give you a nice little uniform like
the girl guides but Mussolini's girl guides.

Ah, so she brought the
uniform home as a souvenir.

It was enough for the men from 18b.
There it was in a wardrobe. So off she

went to escort.
She was in turn because of the uniform.

People do take them terribly seriously.
Well, it worked for Victor. When he was

in his sailor suit, people did what he said.
I mean, it was charm as well as

rank. Rank. Charm.
That's how he got Maria's name on the

list for Canada.
Perhaps it should be generous. Imagine

he was getting her out of the camp
to a new life away from the w*r.

He just wanted a troublesome lover
out the way before his wife found out.

That ship was a death trap.
I dream about that.

Those people pushing at the barricades,
the great wooden axes wrapped in barbed

wire and then the sea
coming in and drowning

them both. Both

Maria and the baby. His baby.

I knew his name, that was all,
but I couldn't find him. The Mess of the w*r had

turned everything upside down.
No one was in a great hurry to help out an

insignificant wop waiter.
Turned out I'd been serving him Walsingham .

Sours for months. Victor Orr, my old friend.
I I can't leave

you alone for 5 minutes, can I?
Who the bloody hell can't take a joke?

Let's have a couple of those.
What do you call them?

Walsingham Sours.
For the two ladies.

Heh, for their royal highnesses, you mean.
These are on me, ladies? The man who took away

my precious Maria,
my beloved sister.

So I did what had to be done.
I prepared ice. Special ice.

Oh. Oh dear. So embarrassing.
I do apologise.

Not at all. Look after the pennies and
the pounds will look after themselves.

What?

It was her birthday.
See, Maria's birthday would have been.

It seemed, uh, it seemed fitting.
Yes. Yes, it must have done.

And I took the precaution of
keeping some of the poisoned ice.

Tinkety-tonk. Wait, no.

Just ordinary ice.
Alas, I'm afraid I swapped it.

I'm so very, very sorry about your
sister, Signiore Babarini.

But m*rder is m*rder.

Marco Barbarini, I'm arresting you on a
charge of m*rder. You do not have to say

anything, but anything you do say may
be taken down and used against you in a

court of law.
Do you have anything to say?

Oh, by the way, Mr. Kind, the
linseed oil in the generators.

That was me too. Sorry.

I got that.
Mr. Kind, you wanted a word?

Oh, yes, Miss Rattle.
I was thinking about your position here.

Well, now I know that you were not
responsible for the incident with the

generators. Yes.

Well, your dismissal was
unnecessarily expeditious.

Yes. Yes.
And I wanted to say I would very

much like to offer that
position back to you.

Well, I accept.
That's all very satisfactory.

There's a ledger here, isn't there?
A ledger?

One with all the comings and goings of the staff.
Might I see my entry? It's

over there. Yes, of course.

Thank you.

There I am. Edith Rattle.
Reason for leaving?

Sabotage. Well,
better strike that from the record.

Thank you, Mr. Kind.
Now, Mr. Kind, I resign.

You resign? Yes, I resign.
Would you mind putting

that in there for me? You can't resign.
I believe I just did.

Up the workers.

Up the workers.

All this is quite correct.
Two more please

for those people.

Oh, missing the w*r, are you?
I don't know what the etiquette is.

Ooh, I think that's the
royal summons. Well,

for you, Mr. Book.
For the book. Oh, thank you.

What's that for?


No, I mean, what's it for?
Oh, our copy of the Kanun of Scutari. In our trade, it

pays to specialise.
It'll bounce.

Well, if it doesn't, I shall give it
to the Arandora Star Memorial Fund.

Please enjoy. Thank you.
What should we drink to?

To us. To the Barbarinis?

Yes. To Marco and Maria and

all the Barbarinis.
The lost and the defeated.

All the Barbarinis.
Those who bear the name and those who do not.

And let there be
no more drownings.

He got me the job. Mr. Book,

he arranged for you to take me on.
The princesses were looking for a

bodyguard. Gabriel asked if I could help.
So, you see, he was looking out

for you, despite your falling out.
You know him well.

We go a long way back.

Looking out for me or
manipulating me. Now,

why would you think of it like that?
He sought me out. Found me when I come out

of prison, set me up.
Nice job, nice home.

Yes. Why?

You'd have to ask him that.
I ain’t a monster. Mr. Kind. I'm grateful.

Of course I am. It's just It's a lot.
You know, they're set up.

The way they are, Mr. and Mrs.
Book the way he is.

It's hard for me to just accept it.
You have a moral objection?

Me?
Why do I have to moralise?

I think you've answered your own question.
Book is kind.

I mean, I know I'm kind. Edmund Kind.
But I once knew a girl called Joy and

she was anything but.
There's no sinister motive, Jack. They

want to help.
Why don't you let them?

With you in just one moment.
Hello again.

Oh, Mrs. Goodwin. Jean.

Jean. After more of the
same? the Pimpernel?

I'm not really sure. I I think I
fancy something a little different.

Your husband not with you? No.

The golf course?
No. The Garrick?

The divorce courts. Oh.

Oh. That play you gave
me, ‘A Doll's House’.

Most illuminating. Like you
suggested, it rather made me think.

Yes, I thought it might do.
Made me realise how narrow my horizons

had become. Or other how narrow
Gerald had made my horizons.

Love doesn't always last forever, alas. Never loved him. Awful man.

But that's all in the past now, or
in the hands of my solicitor, anyway.

So what can I do for you then, Jean?
What have you got on travel?

Travel? Lots of it.
Heaps of it. Exotic travel.

I think it's time I
saw a bit of the world.

I've got just the thing…

With you in just one
moment, sir.

Thanks.

I'll let you run on it.
Without tea, I am

unreconstituted dust.

It's hard to let go of the past,
Mr. Book, when you have so many questions

about it. Such as. Well, if it
wasn't for you and Trottie, I'd

be, well, I'd be sleeping
on the Embankment

but now I have a position if
it's still available.. The royal

highnesses let you go..? I quit.
Good for you. Yes, the job's still yours.

So, I've got a position.
Cozy little room above a bookshop on

Archangel Lane. I'm thinking,

why me?

Your father gave me this.
The last time I saw him, 1935,

the last time? He died

soon after

I couldn't face looking at this
book, not for years.

And then the w*r came and I was
busy, rather busy.

It's only a few months ago that I picked it up again.
Dared to pick it up. And I

found there was a little
more to it than I thought.

What you mean?

Oh, somewhere meek unconscious
dove that sitteth ranging golden hair

and glad to find thyself so fair.
Poor child

that waitest for thy love.
He's trying to tell me, you see, about

you, about the son
I never knew he had.

Must have been taken around
when you were conceived.

Felix.

Felix?

I never had his name.
Just that…

just that one picture.

Your father was a German.

German? Prussian,

in point of fact.

And what was he to you, Mr. Book?
What was Felix to me?

He was everything, Jack.

He was what the
w*r took away.

He was the whole damn world.

How did he die?

I don't know.

Shall we find out?