Tomorrow?
You're certain?
No, you've done well.
It's time I paid a visit to an old friend.
Must I have a reason to visit?
Well, you've travelled thousands of miles.
It's not like you're popping in next-door for a cup of tea.
Oh, charming.
Well, if you don't want me here, I'll leave.
Well, you mightn't even see your niece.
We still don't know when Penelope's due back.
Well, that depends on how long I stay, doesn't it?
Everything in hand?
Yes. Oh, the flowers.
I'll telephone the florist. Well, ring them and tell them to hurry.
The Cardinal's going to be here in less than an hour.
I doubt we'll be excommunicated
for the lack of a few petunias, Mrs M.
I'm going.
Ah. Don't even think about it.
SNIFFLING
Hercule?
The Camembert is a little ripe. Sorry. Long journey.
What are you doing here?
I came to say goodbye. I'm leaving. For New York.
Permanently. I seek a new chapter.
And what is this title of this chapter?
"Flambeau's Clean Slate"?
You win. I intend to settle down,
grow old, and lead a blameless life.
You're renouncing crime?
In due course.
Ah.
There's one last treasure I simply must possess.
Then my collection is complete and I set sail for a new life.
And this treasure would be?
If I told you that, it would ruin the surprise.
All I can offer is a friendly warning.
The road you're on is going down and down.
And one day you'll find yourself in a hole from which,
despite your cunning,
you will be unable to escape.
Quit while you are ahead.
Father.
One moment.
Mrs McCarthy is flapping around like a grouse on the twelfth of August.
Have you been having a nibble during confession?
Cardinal Ratcliffe has been appointed Prefect of
the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signatura.
I'm not familiar with Vatican apparatus...
The Prefect's responsible
for justice and discipline within the Church.
Sounds ominous. Why come all the way to Kembleford?
I wish I knew.
You didn't tell me he was bringing a friend.
Do behave.
Welcome to Kembleford, Your Eminence.
You must be the famous Father Brown.
Your name is whispered in the corridors of the Palazzo
with unnerving regularity.
There must be many Father Browns in the church.
Yet, I suspect you're one of a kind.
May I present our parish secretary, Mrs McCarthy.
Your Eminence.
And...
Lady Felicia Montague. Patron of St Mary's.
And this is?
Ispettore Angelini of the Papal Carabinieri.
Your ladyship.
Angelini kindly agreed to accompany me... for security.
And what brings you to Kembleford, Your Eminence?
All in good time.
1485.
An unknown thief broke into the Lateran Treasury
and escaped with one of the most valuable artefacts in
the history of the Catholic Church.
I am surprised such a crime is not better known.
It was kept secret. The Holy See could not appear weak.
What exactly was stolen?
The Tiara of Saint Sylvester,
used in Papal coronations since the 13th century.
A three-tiered, golden crown encrusted with sapphires,
emeralds, pearls and finished with a ruby so large
it made Isabella I of Spain weep when she saw it.
Father?
Yes? Are you listening?
Please continue.
Recent correspondence has come to light suggesting that it was sold
to Sir William Brintley, a corrupt English nobleman.
Now, Sir William intended to give the tiara to Richard III...
"Intended"?
Sir William and Richard were both killed in 1485 at Bosworth Field,
before this devotion could be made.
We believe Sir William hid the tiara on his estate
before joining the king in battle.
We're aware of your particular talents.
Find the tiara.
Bring it to me.
It belongs in Rome.
So you intend to steal it?
To return it, Senora, to its rightful home.
Even if it were at Brintley castle,
it's been lost for nearly 500 years.
The castle has remained in private hands
and largely untouched.
Wherever the tiara was hidden,
God willing, perhaps it's still there.
So where exactly do we come in to all this?
Lady Cecily, the castle's owner, has seen her fortunes dwindle.
In order to make ends meet, her plan is to hire the castle out
for special occasions.
How would you like to help me plan a wedding?
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
One more time?
Patricia Lovelow. Patty to her friends.
Wealthy widow, soon to be remarried to Brent Cable,
American steel tycoon.
Are you sure this is a good idea?
I can play a convincing widow.
I simply have to imagine Monty being trampled by
a herd of elephants, then try not to look too pleased about it.
Your turn. I'm only participating
because the request came directly from the Vatican.
And because you get to look fabulous in my furs.
Mrs Gwendoline O'Shea. mother to Patty,
here to ensure that the reception venue is suitable.
Do I really have to be her mother?
Could I not be her cousin? Or...or a young aunt?
Too late.
Welcome to Brintley Castle, Mrs Lovelow.
Thank you. May I introduce my dear old mother, Mrs O'Shea?
No, no, please call me Gwendoline.
And our friend Father Brown.
I do hope you're going to like our humble abode.
A wedding reception is just what the old girl needs
to bring her back to life.
Oh, it is far lovelier than I had imagined.
Oh, come. Let me give you the grand tour.
What about our...?
Right.
Apologies for the lack of staff.
I've rather got used to fending for myself.
Obviously, for the big day, we'll have a full team.
I remember when my Neville proposed to me.
He took me on a Champagne picnic.
Off to fight in South Africa, you see.
Wanting to tie up the loose ends.
I told him, "Yes, so long as you don't get shot."
Sadly, he was never very good at following orders.
My condolences.
Ancient history, Father.
I'm sorry that on this occasion you won't get to meet the groom.
Sadly, Brent has been detained in America on business.
That's what you think.
Sorry?
Who says romance is dead.
Mr Cable.
Surprise.
He cut short his business trip just so he could be with you.
Darling. I've missed you.
I know I should be sealing the big deal,
but every second with you is worth a million bucks in the bank.
But I...
Mrs O'Shea, you're in the Evesham Suite.
Ooh.
Father Brown, you're in Warwick.
And the happy couple are in the Royal Suite.
I was a little surprised they're already sharing quarters,
but I understand things are different across the pond.
You're too kind. And may I say what a swell place you have here.
He's certainly a charmer.
I'll leave you to freshen up before supper.
How DARE you?
Is a man not allowed to kiss his fiancee?
What're you doing here? The same as us.
The tiara. Of course. Don't even think about denying it.
And you can wipe that smug smile off your face
because I am going downstairs now to telephone the police.
And blow your cover?
I've a better idea.
Let's work together to find the tiara.
I'll keep the ruby on top.
Everything else is returned to the Vatican.
Are you seriously suggesting stripping a holy relic for parts?
You need my help. I have an array of valuable skills.
These hands can work miracles.
And don't forget, the tiara has been hidden for half a millennium.
And it would do well to remain hidden for another half,
rather than you get your filthy, thieving mitts on it.
Father, these mean girls won't let me join in their game.
Tell them they must share.
Lady Felicia is right. The tiara is sacred.
Go, or we will alert the authorities.
But don't forget I've travelled from America
to see my beautiful fiance.
If I leave so soon, Lady Cecily will get suspicious.
How about I stay the night,
then tomorrow morning say I've been called away on urgent business?
I'll be gone before breakfast.
I suppose. Father.
Excellent. I believe we're in here, sugar-plum.
You must be tired after your long journey.
I know I am. How about I run us a bath?
She's saving herself for our wedding night.
I guess this means I'm bunking with you, Father.
Eight years ago we were producing 72%
of the world's steel.
Now we're losing share to Japan, India...
Darling, let's not discuss business over dinner.
Not that it's much of a dinner.
Sorry. Still learning this etiquette you Brits love so much.
That's quite all right, Mr Cable.
Tell me, how did you two meet?
I...I was waiting outside a railway station,
trying to get home.
He offered me a lift.
Couldn't leave a lady stranded?
In return, she invited me to an art exhibition.
An eventful evening, as I recall.
And the rest is history.
I nearly forgot.
I have something for you, my love.
It's my necklace.
It belonged to her father.
The family were forced to sell it at auction.
Luckily, I know the collector who bought it.
How very considerate of you.
CECILY: You've got a good one there, dear.
FATHER: Lady Cecily, I'm very keen to know about the castle's history.
CECILY: It's all in the archives.
In the library,
we have documents going back to Sir William Brintley himself.
Fascinating. Why don't we look together?
Tomorrow morning, after breakfast?
But, Mr Cable, did you not say you had to leave before first light?
So soon?
I'm sure an extra hour or two wouldn't hurt.
Do you have to smoke in bed?
It helps me relax.
You returned Lady Felicia's necklace. Why?
I found it lying about. It's not to my taste.
Seemed uncharacteristically selfless.
I told you, Father, I'm on the path of redemption.
By the way, where's the Cardinal
while you're here doing his dirty work?
In a hotel in Brintley.
Think you'll find it?
The tiara?
Sir William Brintley's will.
Isn't that why you were fishing for a peek at the family archives?
You believe he left a clue to the tiara's hiding-place.
Goodnight, Hercule.
CLATTERING
Bout of insomnia. Thought I'd stretch my legs.
You're off to look for the tiara, aren't you?
You couldn't resist the temptation.
You can hardly blame me.
Stealing things is always more fun with you around.
I get to watch you pretend you're not enjoying yourself.
Hercule. I'm going to investigate the archives.
Feel free to go back to bed.
Found it. The will?
Listen. It's addressed to Sir William's daughter.
"The King must have his crown.
"Should I fall in battle, from my ashes shill rise the knowledge he require."
From my ashes." Was his body burned?
In the will, he asked to be buried in the family crypt.
Ashes? A fireplace perhaps?
Look. This plan was drawn by a visiting 18th century clergyman.
According to these, there was a fireplace in the solar.
Sir William's private quarters.
Either your clergyman was fond of artistic embellishment
or it's been blocked up. I'll check upstairs.
Wait. The old solar is behind all this.
Here.
Allow me.
What will we tell Lady Cecily?
That I was teaching you an Irish jig and got carried away.
It's a boar.
The symbol of Richard III.
"The Golden Legend."
The book of saints.
One of the earliest texts printed in English. Caxton. 1483.
Must be worth a king's ransom.
At the very least, it will help us find one.
"Follow Saynt Sylvester's steps. The dragon guards the crown."
Dragon? What does it mean?
Don't move.
I told you you should leave.
Really? Now?
You've got some explaining to do, Father.
I'm so sorry that Brent had to rush off without saying goodbye.
Business is busy-ness.
Oh, your gardens, Lady Cecily, are truly delightful.
And the peacocks.
I'm sure our guests will be most appreciative.
I've had quite a lot of time on my hands the last few years.
May I ask a personal question?
Of course.
To have lived here alone for so long...
Was there never anyone else?
I put my heart back together again, bit by bit.
But I could never really give it to anyone again.
Not properly. I didn't dare. Here.
Make a wish.
For a marriage full of love and happiness.
A happy marriage.
Well, I must go and set preparations for lunch.
Feel free to Look around.
Oh, thank you.
Where has Father Brown got to?
His note said they were going to the village.
At least it looks like You Know Who has left.
Yes, and good riddance.
All right, out with it. Why have you really come back?
I missed you.
I missed Kembleford. I was homesick. Satisfied?
No. Has something happened with Monty?
Why, would you...?
Oh, fine. We had a row.
Hardly the first time, I know,
but this time it was rather fierce.
And prolonged.
I thought we'd benefit from being on separate continents for a while.
Is it really that bad?
I envy Lady Cecily.
For her, love is eternally perfect.
A champagne picnic on a summer's day, crystallised in time.
She'll never have to watch it fade.
Angelini searched your study.
He found this.
Hercule Flambeau is a troubled soul in search of redemption.
Wrong. He's a desecrator of holy relics.
A cancer eating away at the Church.
He must not be tolerated.
You planned this?
We came here to find the tiara and catch a thief.
Will Flambeau be taken to Rome to stand trial?
Flambeau's to be handed over to the authorities in Spain.
Spain?
Three years ago, he worked with an anti-government faction there,
stealing certain artefacts from Franco's personal collection.
If he was working for the resistance,
that will mean the death sentence.
That is out of our hands.
But... Concentrate on finding the tiara!
No.
No?
I will not be part of sending a man to his death.
You'd take the side of a degenerate thief
over your instructions from the highest authority?
You'll face excommunication for this.
Nevertheless, I will not locate the tiara
unless Flambeau receives a fair trial,
either here or in Rome.
Very well.
Let him rot in jail...
..if you find the tiara.
Where's Father Brown?
He's with the Cardinal.
He'll be back soon.
You really don't remember me, do you?
Don't take it personally.
I've had my share of encounters with the law.
Yet you always seem to escape. Unlike me.
Monte Carlo?
The war had just finished?
No?
Vincenzo? I thought you were dead.
Nearly.
I got thrown in Monaco's Maison d'Arret,
while you vanished with the House of Grimaldi's family jewels.
Adesso siamo insieme, un'altra volta.
I said I'd find you.
According to The Golden Legend, a dragon was terrorising Rome.
Saint Sylvester found the dragon's lair and bound its mouth.
Shall I ask Lady Cecily if she has a statue of a dragon?
Or a painting?
No. The less she knows about this the better.
We need to find it ourselves. Quickly.
I heard the police coming and hid. You'd have done the same.
You tipped them off and left me to take the blame.
If that's what you choose to believe,
let me make amends. I'll help you find the tiara.
I only ask for a small cut. Say 40%?
Make a deal with the man that left me for dead
and then slept with my wife?
In my defence, we both thought she'd just become a widow.
I was trying to cheer her up.
I'm really going to enjoy killing you, Hercule.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Hello?
One second.
Who are you...? I'm Mr Cable's personal assistant.
I'm here to collect some belongings he left behind.
What was that?
Look what you made me do.
Now I have to get some more rope.
Isn't that just typical?
There's me, turning the house upside-down
while you're just sat there reading.
Where is Lady Felicia?
Searching the garden, for all the good it'll do.
No sign of fire-breathing dragons anywhere.
Not even a lizard with halitosis.
Maybe you shouldn't be looking for the dragon.
Maybe we should be looking for the pit. What pit?
The dragon lived in a pit.
A cave on the outskirts of the city.
TAPPING
Did you hear that?
Reminds me of the Presbytery. Same awful racket our boiler makes.
That isn't a boiler.
That's a message.
Lady Cecily. Lady Cecily, can you hear me?
Angelini's an impostor. His real name is Vincenzo Gavagna.
Huh! What have you done?!
It was Angelini. He wants the tiara for himself.
Oh, and why should we believe you?
Because he's telling the truth.
The real Inspector Angelini
is somewhere at the bottom of the Tiber.
Excuse me, this woman needs a doctor.
No doctors.
Not until Father Brown brings me the tiara.
She could be dead by then.
Then he'd better hurry up. You have until sunset, Father.
After that, I'm going to shoot someone every hour
until you run out of friends.
And then I'm going to shoot you.
But we can't be certain the tiara's even here.
Have faith, Father.
And if I find the tiara, you'll let everyone go?
Except the Flambeau.
We have history.
Well?
I believe we are looking for a cave or a pit within the grounds.
Excellent.
I'm going to tie up your friends and then help you look.
Making sure you don't call the police, of course.
There was no splash!
Father, I think I know where the pit is.
Well, well. Follow his steps.
X marks the spot?
They're Roman numerals.
There's more.
12, 31.
It's a date.
31st of December.
New Year's Eve?
The feast of Saint Sylvester.
It appears we've found the entrance to the dragon's lair.
CLATTERING ECHO
Do you mind if I don't go down there?
I'm not very good with heights.
Got it?
Um-mm. Excellent. Pass it to me.
Mm?
Use your imagination.
Well, don't drop it, whatever you do.
Hurry up. I should never have come.
I wanted to teach Monty a lesson.
He probably hasn't even noticed I've gone.
Then the man's a fool. You don't get to have an opinion.
Got it.
Untie me.
But think of all the fun we could have.
Very well. But may I say
how much I've enjoyed our time in captivity together?
Just get on with it.
What now?
Saint Sylvester was instructed to walk 150 paces into the pit.
There he would find the dragon.
OK. Avanti.
One, two, three, four.
That's it? You're just running off and leaving us?
I'm going after Angelini.
Going after the tiara, more like.
My priority is rescuing Father Brown.
What about us?
There is a madman on the loose and Lady Cecily,
I think she may have broken her hip. We can't move her.
You stay here. Barricade the door. I'll go with Flambeau.
Can't get enough of me?I don't trust you not to steal the tiara
and then leave us. We'll come back for you when it's safe.
Well, do be careful.
Tell me you have a plan.
I'll improvise.Oh, good.
Well, while he's busy shooting you,
I'll bash him over the head with this.
What? I know you're unhappy.
You've been unhappy for a long time.
I saw it in your eyes the first day we met.
What business is that of yours?
Because we both know there's something between us.
I've had quite enough of your mockery.
Oh, I'm not mocking you. I'm deadly serious.
I bribed a servant of yours in Rhodesia
to let me know when you were returning to Kembleford.
What are you saying?
I'm not here for the tiara.
The treasure I came for is you.
148, 149, 150.
One dragon.
May I borrow your belt?
My belt?
Saint Sylvester bound the dragon's mouth.
"Non furtum facies".
"Do not steal."
Saint Sylvester took two lanterns into the pit...
And after he bound the dragon's mouth,
he knelt and offered a prayer to God.
Why not?
Abandon my entire life?
Move to New York with a man that I hardly know?
Well, what do you want to know?
I'll tell you anything. Just say yes.
You couldn't handle me.
Try me.
No. I can't simply leave my husband
and run off to the other side of the world.
Isn't that exactly what you've already done?
Only to return to Montague, my home.
So you'd sooner be like Lady Cecily and grow old
and lonely in your mansion wondering what might have been?
Well, right now, I'd sooner save Father Brown.
You stay here in case they come back.
Where are you going?To check the groundsman's shed for a shotgun.
And if you're lucky, I won't use it on you!
Ha!
Want to shoot me?
Go on, shoot me.
Do it.
Give me that.
I have no further use for you, Father.
So get on your knees.
I'm not a monster. I would not shoot a priest
so hopefully somebody is going to find you down here.
Perhaps in 500 years?
Arrivederci, Father.
Figlio, spirito santo.
I should've killed you the moment I saw you.
Isn't hindsight a wonderful thing? What did that achieve?
It stopped him escaping.Yes, but by trapping him down there
with Father Brown. It buys us time. Find a shotgun?
No.
I have a proposal.
Aren't you just full of them?
I'll lower another rope if you agree
to send up Father Brown with the tiara. And the gun.
I've a better idea. You drop the rope.
I keep the gun and the tiara.
And I don't shoot Father Brown in the head.
No deal, sorry.
Didn't you hear what he said? He won't shoot his hostage.
He knows we'd leave him down there. We'll have to wait him out.
What have you done?
You may not want to wait too long.
You called the police? I thought...
If they turn up, he'll get desperate.
Father Brown could get caught in the crossfire.
New offer. A straight swap. Me for Father Brown.
I'll lower a rope and climb down
if you let Father Brown and the others go.
Are you mad? He'll shoot you.
Exactly. I'm the one he wants dead.
It's the only way Father Brown walks free.
You'd sacrifice yourself to save him?
Why not? He's spent years trying to save me.
It's a deal.
But any tricks, I'll kill you both.
Will you help me look for another rope?
Mon dieu.
It appears Flambeau values your life higher than his own.
It is never too late to turn away from evil.
You gave your word. Let the priest climb up.
Then you can do as you wish.
On your way, Father. You won't want to see this.
A moment, please, before I go?
If you must. But be quick.
Father?
Do you truly repent your past?
I do.
Then kneel before God.
Father, forgive me. For I have sinned.
And yet you are here.
You warned me I'd find myself in a hole
from which there'd be no escape. Have faith.
Trust in the lord and you will find salvation.
Deinde ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris,
et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Enough. Go.
Amen.
Goodbye, Flambeau.
So this is it, huh? The great Hercule Flambeau.
Shot dead in a stinking pit.
You have any last words?
None spring to mind.
Looking for these?
Never trust a priest. Especially not that one.
That's a bit rich, coming from you.
You're in safe hands now, Lady Cecily.
You are a good woman, Mrs O'Shea.
No, I'm not.
And my name isn't O'Shea. It's McCarthy. Bridget McCarthy.
But who...? I can explain.
I'm glad someone can.
Inspector? Heard a police report of a priest stuck down a well.
I thought "If that's who I think it is,
I've got to see this for myself."
Is the Father still in need of assistance Mrs McCarthy?
No, he's not. That's a relief.
But there is someone you will want to speak to.
Regarding the murder of an Italian policeman
and the assault on Lady Cecily.
Might not be a wasted trip, after all.
Perhaps you should return it to the Cardinal.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Are you still going to America?
I'm leaving tomorrow.
Then this really is goodbye.
Thank you for rescuing me.
Thank you for taking the bullets out of his gun.
I was beginning to think I'd miscalculated how much I like you.
And if you really have changed,
then maybe we will meet again, beyond the pearly gates.
If you get to the bar first, mine's a large Scotch.
Could you give us a moment?
Shouldn't you be going?
You don't want the police to find you here.
Probably, yet I can't seem to tear myself away.
I'm a married woman.
Your respect for the sanctity of marriage
is one of the many things I love about you.
You don't love me. Don't I?
You say you wish to turn your back on crime.
But I'm just a prize.
A trophy to be taken from under the nose of another man.
That's not true.
Yes, it is.
You're wearing the necklace, I see.
Forgive me for not returning it sooner.
It was the only thing I had to remind me of you.
No.
POLICE SIREN
Last chance.
We could make each other very happy.
I wish that were true.
WHISTLE BLOWS
Send me a postcard.
Forgive my foolishness.
I should never have let that man deceive me.
Do not blame yourself.
Better to believe a liar than to doubt an honest man.
Trust me, he shall be dealt with.
Talking of which, I must return.
It's a long journey back to Rome.
The tiara?
It's from Flambeau.
Surely the Vatican has enough jewels hidden in its crypts?
All aboard!
Nonetheless, I meant what I said about a clean slate.
Though how well I'll learn to resist temptation, only time will tell.
POLICE SIRENS
NEW YORKER: Hot dogs! Get ya hot dogs here!
Madame. You dropped this.
Oh, gee, thanks.
No harm done.
Goodbye, old friend.
Or should I say au revoir?