A... a lion?
In England.
It's Justice.
What?
The... the lion's name.
Justice.
It was in the evening paper, sir.
Escaped from the zoo this morning.
Justice.
I wonder if those poor souls would agree.
I suppose it's just one of life's cruel...
Pointless...
Unsolvable secrets.
I wouldn't mind one.
One? I count that number three.
Well, if they keep us waiting this long, what do you expect?
Well, look at the time.
Madame always appears six minutes before midnight.
Quite right, your Ladyship.
Why is that? Waiting for a pumpkin to arrive?
She feels that the doors to the other side
open only at midnight.
Well, as long as she keeps the doors
to the liquor cabinet open I'm not complaining.
Don't be vulgar. This is a shrine.
- Got a light? - Terribly sorry.
I'm a committed non-smoker.
As is young Master Bonpree.
No one seems to have a match in this place.
That's a rather nasty cough you have there.
I just want to get this over with and get back to my club.
Why then did you even bother to come?
Oh, no you don't.
I know how these spiritualists work.
Sending out their spies to fish for information.
How very vulgar.
I'm dreadfully sorry once again.
Edwin, please do behave.
And that goes for you too.
Snooping around like a shadow.
Oh, don't mind Jenkins. He's deaf as a post.
You're pulling my leg.
A deaf butler.
What, is there a blind cook to match?
In any case, why shouldn't her ladyship know
the reasons for your attendance?
She'd have to be a damned fine spy to know the answer.
To what?
To the question.
"What's the combination?"
The combination?
- To the safe. - What are you talking about?
Well you see, Edwin inherited his father's industrial empire.
The problem is that his secret papers
are locked in a safe that we can't open.
Oh, got to force it open.
Can't.
As the family solicitor I've advised against it.
The safe contains a special mechanism
by which any documents inside would be destroyed by us
should it be forced open.
My, must be some seriously dirty linen hidden inside.
Oh, yes. And that's all you're going to know.
That's more than I needed to know.
By the way, I've been meaning to ask.
Who's that doll over there?
I have no idea.
I hear she's American.
A Miss Daisy.
I loathe Americans. So vulgar.
Well, I hate to disappoint you,
but I'm one of those vulgars myself.
- An American? - As an apple pie.
I have to say, you hide it well.
Well, as they say, when in Rome.
And when in London.
Precisely.
London is getting flooded by Americans.
That, uh... that lady over there, Miss... Miss Mills,
I believe she's an American too.
An American she may very well be.
But the lady,
she's Madame Orlofsky's secretary.
- What a looker. - Miss Mills?
No, no, no, Miss Daisy. She will be mine tonight.
I predict that.
- Can you really? - Yeah, just... lookie here.
Yes, yes, yes.
I can predict it. Red means I will be a lover.
Black means she will be my mistress.
What about the zero?
Zero is marriage,
so very little threat of that happening.
There you go. Next time just consult me.
We should sit whilst we wait.
Oh, but we can't. Not yet.
Why not? It's almost midnight.
The Madame insists.
All twelve seats at the table must be taken.
And there are only four of us so far.
What are those things?
You'll see.
What on earth was that?
The doorbell for the deaf.
You don't say.
So, the butler really is deaf.
As stone.
Why doesn't she get one in proper working order?
Man has become part of the furniture.
I suspect there's more to their arrangements.
After all, the rest of him
appears to be perfectly serviceable.
I hope it's a busload of American tourists
so we can finally get this night started.
Oh, God. What are these?
Oh, good, honest, working people, I suppose.
Don't they know there's a tradesman's entrance?
Now, now, Madame.
Let's show a little bit of Christian tolerance, shall we?
I wish Madame Orlofsky would give separate hours
for lower costs.
I'm sure they're loaded with matches.
Ma'am.
So nice to see nice people here.
I guess we's all equal before sorrow, ain't we?
I feel the bond between us, I do.
Come along now, dear. No need to make a spectacle.
I thought I'd scream.
Couldn't you have took it on the chin?
Like a real trooper?
Just look at them.
Whatever miserable little prejudice
clouded their miserable lives?
Now we need to hear all about it.
Oh, Lord. What next?
More factory workers and scrubbing women?
This night might turn out fun after all.
Brandy. Quick, I'm frozen.
Well, man, don't just stand there. Take my coat.
What is the matter with you?
Get me that brandy.
What, are you deaf or something?
He is indeed deaf, my good sir.
A deaf butler. Well, I'll be damned.
What a welcome after two hours of drive through a shit storm.
Please.
I call a spade a spade, madam.
Want me to light that for you?
No.
Anyway, you can't stay.
- What? - This is a private gathering.
You must go. Mr. Arnheim, tell him.
- You see, sir... - Wait a minute, wait a minute.
I'd like to see you try.
I guarantee you all a knockout.
And you would be?
That's my business and nobody else's.
I'm just here for the table tapping.
The séance?
Call it a Sabbath, old gal. As long as I get some answers.
Wait now. I need my coat back.
There's something in my pocket I must have.
Oh, God damn, you're deaf. Right.
Look, my coat,
must have, bring, do you understand?
Bring back my coat.
I think we have a problem, sir.
- I think we do. - My coat...
- I'm on it. - ...back.
I heard you wanted a brandy, sir.
You heard right, lass.
Unlike that other chap.
I am Madam Orlofsky's secretary.
You see, our butler is unfortunately...
Deaf as a door nail, I hear.
However, you see, sir, we're fully booked tonight.
- Only invited guests. - Fully booked?
What is this, the Savoy Hotel?
There was no mention of that in the Times.
In the Times?
Madam hasn't advertised for over a month.
A month, a year, who cares?
This joint's still open, ain't it?
This here says séances every midnight.
There are what, twelve seats at that table?
I drove all the way from London.
I'll be damned if I leave here before I get some answers.
Now look here, my good man.
Don't you good man me, brother.
You're talking to a middleweight boxing champion.
I was about to suggest that you join us.
Miss Mills, will you please take out the man's coat?
I say, you better have a brandy, too.
I'm fine.
Well, well, well. Well, well, well.
Renaissance tapestry...
Ronisch grand piano.
Hardly looks like a gypsy fortune teller's den at all.
Madam Orlofsky is no gypsy. She's Russian aristocracy.
Aren't they all?
I can assure you that everyone in the better society
has the fullest confidence in Madame Orlofsky.
Well, what's to say she hasn't just dressed you up
and paid you to say that to all her guests?
- Well, I would never. - But wait a minute.
I've been dealing with the Russians.
If she's really Rusky,
shouldn't she be called Orlovska or something?
Your coat, sir.
Wait a minute.
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
I don't, uh, think so, sir.
I never forget a face.
It'll come to me.
Well, then.
What do we know about this here Madame then, eh?
Is she the real deal
or is she just another fairground swindler?
Don't be vulgar. Madame is infallible.
I have consulted her for years.
And yet still single, eh?
How dare you?
Come now. Pretty girl like you.
They only have two questions.
Either how to find a lover or how to get rid of one.
If you insist on being vulgar,
I shall ignore you.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Madame Orlofsky is now ready to grant you an audience.
She's supposed to be the devil's bride?
She only comes out in the darkness.
Her eyes can't tolerate the light.
There's only seven people.
Eleven were supposed to come.
It's this awful weather, Madame. There were cancellations.
I must have twelve people at the table.
Go and fetch the cook and the driver.
I welcome you.
It's almost midnight.
Don't we know that?
Please, all of you...
choose a seat for the séance.
I will take the one seat that remains vacant.
See if I can get next to that Miss Daisy.
No, no, you don't. You won't be able to concentrate.
- Miss Lexington? - Telephoned.
Puncture. Won't make it.
Shit.
Sit.
You can leave when the midnight has chimed.
I know not your names or your questions to me.
Miss Mills handles all such formalities,
well, of course, with exception of her ladyship,
who has been a loyal devotee
to the spiritual movement for long.
And Mr. Arnheim, who is indeed my solicitor
and has a right to accompany his young ward, Mr. Bonpree.
And of course, my own staff
who is forced to stand in for the guests
that failed to arrive.
So pretty much everyone.
Not relevant.
It is the stars that told me
that each one of you
has to come exactly tonight.
Yes. I can feel it.
Tonight's the night.
Before the bell chimes twelve times...
Three secrets will be revealed at this table.
Yes, three secrets.
I'm a man.
All right, then.
Four secrets.
I can see them now.
They are grave secrets.
Hard to hear, but heard they must be.
We are ready, Madame.
Wait. What does she mean she's a man?
Hush.
We have more important things to discuss.
Shit. Such a waste.
But before these secrets are revealed,
there's one final test for you all.
A test?
I didn't come here to be tested.
I came here to test you.
Don't worry.
You have already performed the test.
You all have.
Now let's see if you passed it.
There is a goblet of wine
in front of every one of you.
Oh, that's more like it.
Pull the cloth away.
The spirits have led each of you to your star sign.
Scorpio.
Capricorn. True.
Virgo. True, as always.
I'll be damned.
Aries.
How could she know I'd be sitting here?
I know nothing. It's the spirits.
Well, I hate to piss on the fire,
but in my case, it's completely off.
What do you mean?
I mean, it says Libra
but what can one do when one's a Leo?
But the spirits of Madam are never wrong, are they?
Okay, I'm out of here, I knew this is a waste of time.
- Edwin, wait. - Well, if she can't get
this one right, why should I trust her?
Edwin, my boy, I don't know how to tell you this.
Tell me what?
- You are a Libra. - No, I'm not.
How could you even say that?
You're my godfather, for God's sake.
You're my parents best friend.
Yes, I was and I am.
And that's how I know.
Know what?
What's going on here?
Calm down.
This isn't easy for me. I...
It's been tormenting me ever since
your father passed on six months ago.
Oh, my condolences.
Oh, for God's sake. Just speak, Alfred.
The Bonprees were not your real parents.
What?
I'm sorry you had to find out like this.
I was waiting for the right time or place to tell you.
Of course they're my parents. I'm their heir.
Yes. The man who loved you and raised you as a son...
was not your real father.
Luckily you were too young to remember your mother.
So...
so I'm not Edwin Bonpree?
Of course you are. Only not from the start.
One secret has been revealed.
That was cruel of you, Madame Orlofsky.
Alfred, you can't leave it at that.
Tell me who my real parents are.
The Bonprees were unable to have children of their own,
but they were reluctant to adopt publicly
for fear of casting doubt on the legitimacy of their heir.
So, they went abroad for a short time,
ostensibly to give Mrs. Bonpree a rest cure.
And when they returned, it was with a child.
He looked a little older than a newborn,
but on your birth certificate
was stated October 3rd, as would seem appropriate.
Wait a minute.
Are we obliged to sit here and listen to the...
Your sob story for the rest of the night?
What about my secrets?
What am I paying for?
No one is obliged to pay anything.
Besides, you don't have any secrets.
Don't I now?
Your death wish is no secret.
It's written all over you in wet paint.
It smells and sticks to everyone who comes in contact with you.
- Is that so? - You drive fast cars
and speedboats and airplanes while drunk
and act like a daredevil laughing in the face of death.
But the truth is behind this mask,
- you're a coward. - Watch your words, Madame.
You're a coward who's flirting with suicide
to make others admire you.
If indeed you do have a secret
is that you're morbidly afraid of dying.
- Now listen here. - You play everything safe
even though you appear to take risks.
And you're afraid that someone will realize
that your stunning acts are just smoke and mirrors
and your death wish is just a vaudeville act
to make the ladies swoon.
Would a coward do this?
You know as well as I do
that this Russian roulette of yours
always lands on zero
because the only bullet in the cylinder
is an empty shell, like yourself.
Infallible, are you?
Would you be willing to bet your life on that?
Put that away.
No. Pull the trigger.
I dare you.
Pull it six times in a row.
Then we'll see the truth.
That's not all, is it?
Yes. I can feel it.
You're afraid of something else.
You're afraid that your charade
has attracted death's attention.
You've seen signs of it watching you. Waiting.
You have realized
that what began as a game is now a hunt.
And you're right.
You will not live to see the dawn.
What?
You heard me. You will die tonight.
But if you please, not in my house.
So I suggest you leave now.
- Leave? - Yes.
We're through with you. There's nothing more.
I... I... I die tonight?
Yes. One way or the other, that plays no role.
But since we have more important things to discuss here
Miss Mills will help you with your coat.
Let me take this for you, sir.
Wait a minute.
Now I recognize you.
Sir. Let me show you out.
You're...
- You're that... - Sir.
Sir, Madame needs to concentrate.
We shall talk outside.
- No! Wait a minute. - Sir. Sir.
What the hell is going on here?
- What is this? You're... - Sir.
Sir.
I'll see you in hell, Madame.
I'd be thankful for your generous
contribution if you would.
Good evening to you.
So, that was the... The third secret.
No.
So, how will he die? Will he crash his car?
Probably, the way he has been going.
But not tonight.
You mean he isn't going to die tonight?
Oh, dear, no.
From what I see, he unfortunately
still has many healthy years ahead of him.
So, why then did you tell him he would?
He was such an annoying and pompous man
and a solid nonbeliever.
I felt his presence was blocking my channels.
What was that?
A car backfiring.
Yes. Yes, my dear. Nothing to get excited about.
- But it sounded like... - No, it didn't, my dear.
Now, now, control yourself.
He's gone. Quite in pieces.
Suits him fine, might temper his arrogance for a little while.
Edwin, are you all right?
I... I'm...
News hasn't quite sunk in yet.
Please, we must concentrate.
It's almost midnight
and there's still a lot to be revealed.
Now, let's join our fingertips.
Yes, I can feel it.
The spirits are whispering to me.
They are whispering a word.
- Mother. - Oh.
It's me mother!
Uh, who?
Oh, my poor old mother. Taken from us so suddenly.
We didn't even have time to say goodbye.
Now she's calling me from the other side.
It's like I knew she would.
Oh, no, no.
There is no poor old mother anywhere.
I mean, your mother is in a happier place.
But there's a living mother right here at this table.
The mother of a young man.
This young man.
- You're not saying that... - I'm not saying anything
the spirits don't want me to say.
But on this night the stars have brought together
at this table the young man who was adopted
and the woman who gave him birth.
My mother is here?
In this room?
It was written something that could only have happened
at this hour, on this very night
during the great alignment.
- A miracle. - Madame Orlofsky.
You're not seriously suggesting that...
Don't look at me.
I've never been touched by a man.
Then who?
You're...
too old to be my mother.
And you're...
too young.
And you...
you're much too...
Yes, much too.
And you.
You need a shave.
Madam Orlofsky, how would any of these women
possibly be Edwin's mother?
But you yourself said you don't know
who the woman was.
Well, at the time in question the Bonprees were in Europe.
And I stayed behind in London to take care of family business.
I'd always assumed from remarks made at
that Edwin may have been the son of a Paris street girl.
- Alfred. - Sorry, Edwin.
That was indiscreet of me. Please forgive me.
Wait.
Paris.
You said Paris?
Yes, the family rented a villa in Maisons-Laffitte.
I'm seeing things.
It becomes clear to me.
It is the heat of summer.
Very, very hot.
It was 21 years ago, wasn't it?
Yes.
Edwin became of age just one month ago.
The child was bought for the sum
of 1000 francs.
How could you possibly know that?
I wired the money myself.
Then it's all cleared.
The nice English couple.
The cries of the baby boy
as he's wrenched from his mother's arms.
And the bitter tears of that mother
thinking she will never see her son again.
The tears I can still taste.
- But you don't mean... - You?
You are my mother?
I am.
But... you're what, 100 years old?
I'm 38.
Let me look at you, my poor son.
After all these years.
But how can this possibly be?
You must explain.
I knew something would happen tonight.
The stars are in a mystical alignment.
But to answer your question...
I was a young girl of 17,
fleeing the horrors of the revolution.
The Bolsheviks had taken everything,
had killed my family.
I fled to Paris, penniless,
waiting for my fiancé to join me.
And then I learned that he too has been murdered.
So I was there, poor, abandoned, with child.
I was desperate.
Until a nice English couple approached me
and offered to take my son
and give him everything he could ever want in life.
My mother.
There. The secrets have been revealed.
Madame?
Take everyone to the station.
They can make the one o'clock train.
I need to talk to my son.
But... but Madame, we've not had our answers yet.
No, we haven't, have we, Liam?
What about my poor old mother?
I think you'd prefer to live without these answers.
But what's the meaning of this?
I now see your real motives.
They are illuminated by the darkness
of your black conscience.
Well, I never...
And your better never again, or you both will hang.
You mean these two?
Took the old woman for a ride?
And now, as she has come back to haunt their dreams,
they want me to make sure she stays in her grave.
Come now, Liam, I'm not staying another minute.
Wha... what about me?
Oh, my dear...
On the train you meet a dark and handsome stranger
who shall turn out to be the love of your life.
Finally.
And exact same goes for you.
I'm sorry.
It would seem the two of you belong together.
Right.
Well, beggars can't be choosers.
Come on, milady.
I'll make a man out of you yet.
I would see a doctor about that cough.
I need a drink.
I think you should be sober to hear what I have to say.
All of this has sobered me up just fine.
Very well.
I thank the spirits that led you to me...
before it's too late.
What do you mean too late?
My poor son.
Our reunion will be short lived.
I'm not long for this world.
Don't say that, Madame.
I haven't told you or in fact anyone
aside from my secretary and my butler.
But a year ago my physician gave me
no more than twelve months to live.
But, Madame, whatever's the matter with you?
A calling such as mine takes a toll on the health,
I'm afraid, I only have weeks left.
Oh. I'm devastated.
Can't you get a second opinion?
Excuse me.
Do you require anything else, Madame, before I depart?
Yes, my dear.
- Some paper and a pen. - Right away, Madame.
Wait. Why is she leaving?
Doesn't she sleep here?
Especially if your health is bad.
This is an evil house.
It's haunted by many restless spirits.
No one can bear to stay here but Jenkins.
He will drive Miss Mills home and then return.
And this house is haunted?
Only I am able to control the spirits.
Everyone else are driven mad
by the voices that seem to whisper right into your ear.
From the floorboards and from the walls.
Jenkins seem to be immune. As he's deaf.
But Madame.
Mother.
You can't be dying. Not now. Not just...
My dear, you absolutely must see my physician.
The way you cough,
I wouldn't want you to follow me anytime soon.
But you must know I die happy because I have found you.
Don't talk of death.
Not now when we've finally been reunited.
It is written.
But there's something I want to do first.
There's something I want you to have.
Oh. What is it?
All of this.
This shall be my legacy to you.
No. No, I can't... I can't accept that.
Don't be foolish.
Who else I would leave my earthly possessions to?
It's your late father's fortune, your birthright.
- Here you are, Madame. - Thank you, my dear.
Keep an eye on Jenkin's driving.
He speeds like a madman.
The night is full of dangers.
Yes, Madame.
See you in the morning. Gentlemen.
This paper, I give it to you, Mr. Arnheim.
You're good at drawing up last wills.
Here? Now?
Yes.
I have the feeling...
My heart will not survive this unexpected happiness.
I want everything to be taken care of.
So, write.
I, Zena Ivanova,
otherwise known as Madame Orlofsky,
being of sound mind hereby bequeath
all my earthly possessions
to my son who was taken from me at birth,
and thereafter raised under the name of Edwin Bonpree
and with whom I have now been reunited.
You will add the rest
of the necessary formalities yourself.
- Done. - So...
this is a legal document to prove that Edwin is my son
and will, as my only living relative,
inherit everything.
It will be once it's signed by the witnesses.
How many witnesses are needed?
Normally two.
But since the guests and the servants have left...
How thoughtless of me.
Can you be the witnesses?
- You and dear Edwin? - Anything for you, Mama.
Well, it is unusual
to have the beneficiary sign the will.
It would indeed confirm
that you acknowledge Madame Orlofsky as your mother.
And vice versa.
Fine by me.
All legal and indisputable.
I trust, Mr. Arnheim, that you are willing
to take this document into your safekeeping?
Yes, that would probably be wise.
But my dear,
I'm so overwhelmed by our reunion that I quite forgotten
that you came here for a reason of your own.
Oh.
No. It no longer seems so important.
But it is. Wait.
I'm sensing it.
It's about your father.
The man who died recently, making you his heir.
Oh, yes. No, there's something I needed to know.
We must resume our original positions.
We shall try to reach him.
Let's form a spirit triangle.
Picture him in your mind.
Picture the way he walks and talks to you.
Try to smell him, to sense his presence.
- I'm trying to. - So am I.
There is someone who is attempting to contact me.
The spirit of a dead man.
Is it my father?
Which one?
Yes, yes.
I can see him.
What... what was that?
Sorry, what was what?
I thought I...
Never mind.
Are you making contact with my father?
- With Mr. Bonpree? - Yes.
Yes. I can see a man.
A large, stout man. A master.
That must be him.
Ah, but he's angry.
He's not at peace.
Are you all right?
Oh, God. What's wrong with her, Alfred?
I believe she's gone into a trance.
Something doesn't seem right. Don't like it.
Whatever you do... Don't break the connection.
Edwin. Edwin.
Fuck! That's my father.
Oh, my God, it is.
You have betrayed me.
You have shamed me.
- I don't feel so well. - Keep your hands on the table.
Or else his spirit will never return to the grave.
Edwin.
I know what you have done.
I know
your shameful secret.
Oh, God. He knows. How can he?
You're a vile creature.
And from beyond the grave,
I will curse you.
What have you done?
Now his spirit will never leave you.
You will come with me tonight.
Tonight.
So?
It's done.
- He's dead. - Are you sure?
To be honest, I thought the poor bastard
would kick the bucket before he signed.
We only made it through by the skin of our teeth.
Not a moment too soon.
Did you pack that will?
It wouldn't look good for him to have signed it
on the very day of his demise.
Of course I did. I dated it a month prior.
Good.
You can come out now, Nathan.
Well played, my dear.
For a moment, I really did believe
you were seeing things.
At one point, I...
What?
I don't know.
I had a feeling we really had attracted death.
Well, I was so good, I fooled myself
into thinking we are haunted.
You have made blunders before,
but this takes the cake.
You admit a stranger in here tonight.
Are you an imbecile?
What was I supposed to do?
I expect you to care of him.
And the same goes to you.
This bloody Worseley could have ruined everything.
But you did need 12 guests.
Fortunately, I don't have to put up
with your incompetence much longer.
You have been handsomely paid, so,
farewell and I never want to hear from you again.
Not so fast, missy.
I think a little renegotiation is called for.
Who the hell do you think you are,
to talk to me in that manner?
Drop the act, sister. The performance is over.
It was me who saved your bony ass tonight.
I've been dying to ask you about that.
How did you pull it off? It was perfect.
I recognized Worseley the minute he walked in.
His picture was in the Police Gazette
a while back.
An ex-boxing champ, despicable snob,
caused the death of his wife
with his reckless driving
and he's acting suicidal ever since.
Spending his nights in the slammer.
When I went to fetch his coat,
I had Nathan inform Madame Orlofsky.
And of course, I went through his pockets.
He had a revolver. An empty one.
And he's sitting right there, at that exact spot.
Molly remembered from the article
that he was an Aries.
So, I put several Aries cups on the table,
as I had turned off the lights,
while you all were concentrated
on Madam's entrance.
Clara then led him to the right seat, too.
What about Worseley recognizing you?
Well, we have both been the featured stars
in the Police Gazette.
Aren't you worried about him
coming back and causing problems?
Oh, he won't be causing anything,
because he won't be going anywhere.
Wasn't that his car we heard backfiring?
That was no car.
You think he was the only one who had a revolver?
And, thanks to us, his car is now in the river.
As is the other car with the rest of the cast.
You don't mean...
Oh, don't be such a baby in the woods.
We Russians leave no witnesses behind.
Nathan fixed the limousine's brakes.
And I gave the driver a hefty dose of Baronel
in his bendy.
So we sure as hell are entitled
to an extra bonus for getting our hands dirty.
- Ain't we, honey? - That's right.
Of all the ingrates!
It was your cock-up
and I'm not going to pay for it.
Or maybe you want the coppers to receive a tip
where the two cars can be found in the river.
How about that for gratitude?
So, if you don't want your next starring role,
be under the gallows,
you walk away and forget
about any idea of blackmail.
Because if I go down,
you all will go down with me.
I would listen to her.
So, Nathan, I suggest you take
this greedy moll of yours out of my house
before I throw her out.
Come on, honey.
I can't stand the sight of this bitch a minute longer.
The kid was in worse condition
than I thought.
Usually it takes about half an hour
for ephedrine to kick in.
Then again, I slipped him a double dose.
I was hoping he would kick the bucket
when you're on your way back to London.
I've got to clean the mess.
Well, it's done now.
So, young master,
there's always a bonus for the customers,
that make me very, very rich.
That was secret number five.
Are you awake? I've been thinking.
Thinking?
About things we've been discussing lately.
Oh.
You mean money.
Don't make it sound so vulgar.
But I can't help thinking about money
when I'm all but ruined.
Don't exaggerate.
Your finances are perfectly fine.
You'll be able to live comfortably.
I'm not a washer woman...
whose dream is to live comfortably.
When I grew up, I had nothing.
And I promised myself I will get everything.
And I got it. I will not lose it.
Well, there's always more money to be married.
Have you any more
aged board members left on your list?
You snatched up three of them already.
Yes, you put me up with them fine.
That I did.
And then, put them in the ground
equally fine.
Now, Madame, we in the legal profession
would term such an insinuation slander.
You know perfectly well
that I had absolutely nothing to do
with the unfortunate demise of your last three husbands.
Of course not, my dear.
But I clearly remember my first wedding,
Don't you?
That would be your first London wedding,
after you'd run out of Continental husbands.
Remember me in my white lace dress,
wearing the wonderful emeralds good old Sir Mortimer gave me.
The ring, the necklace, the earring.
And the first thing you told me,
when we were dancing our first waltz.
Remember?
You said...
Madame, do you know
these stones can kill you without a trace.
♪ Descending from the skies above ♪
Such an innocent remark
could never be construed as legal advice.
I was merely alluding to the facts
of a previous case.
Wonderful detailed facts.
That emerald dust, when consumed,
will, within weeks, block one's respiratory tract
and lead to suffocation
and heart failure,
without leaving the slightest trace
in the body.
Such wonderful details of a perfect weapon,
told to a young woman,
who has married an ugly old industrialist
and received these weary weapons
as a wedding gift.
Pure coincidence.
So it's only fair that Mortimer got
at least part of his gift back.
Dissolved in his puddings.
It was worthy of an earring.
And what is the use of one earring to a lady?
Exactly. I felt it much better.
Suited Sir Lemuel, internally.
And poor Sir Ivan the Fourth Baronet.
I agree.
That was particularly sad case,
because I was rather fond of the beautiful pendant.
And now, only the ring remains.
Yes.
I kept it for a special occasion.
I'm sure, if you were to agree
to marry me,
that occasion would present itself.
Don't be daft, darling. I will never marry you.
You are just after my money.
Which is dwindling.
But if you would help me to get rich again,
I would split my fortune with you.
What fortune are we talking about?
Mm, the fortune
of about two million, I think.
That sounds suspiciously like the Bonpree estate.
Oh, Alfred, think of it.
Wouldn't it be gorgeous to have all this money?
Think of what we could do with it.
Now, you do remember me uttering the name Bonpree?
The only problem is, that neither you nor I
happen to bear that name.
Which grants access to that money.
But your ward does.
The last time I checked,
my ward was busy gambling, drinking and fighting
and not at all inclined to share
his good fortune with us.
Such an unwise behavior
for a boy with a heart condition.
You did say he has a heart condition, didn't you?
I'm not discussing private affairs
of my clients.
Well, I remember casually mentioning it
when you told me he's a spoiled brat,
who treats you like a dog.
Well...
one can't be too picky
about who pays one's bills.
So why not pay them with his money?
I'm sorry, where is this conversation heading?
If you're looking for a fourth husband,
I should warn you, that Edwin Bonpree
is not of the marrying age.
- He's just a kid. - And every kid needs a mother.
His mother died when he was two.
Mrs. Bonpree died, but not his birth mother.
I seem to have casually mentioned quite a few things.
You should never trust a woman
who gives you a wine glass filled to the brim.
I'll take note of that.
However...
that got me thinking.
What if you could get Master Bonpree
to attend a séance one night?
Absolutely out of the question.
He's morbidly afraid of all things supernatural.
And even if he weren't...
why on earth would he attend a séance?
I'm sure there's something he wants to know.
Perhaps something he'd like to ask
his dear departed father.
Well, there was something
about an unknown safe combination.
There you go!
He will come to contact his father
and ask for the combination.
But you can't give him the combination, can you?
Don't be so slow, darling.
Of course not.
Because when the séance is over,
he won't be needing the combination,
because he'll be dead.
Firstly... I don't know what to say, firstly.
How would any of us benefit from him dying here?
We wouldn't.
Unless, by that time,
he happened to have found his birth mother.
But I don't know where she is.
I had always just assumed that
it was the Bonpree gardener and his wife.
And they're both long dead.
Precisely.
But what if his mother was not the gardener's wife?
What if it was a young Russian noble woman
fallen on hard times.
What? You?
- You're not even a real Russian. - Who cares?
I could have had a child 21 years ago
and given him up for adoption.
Something which you, in your capacity
as his family's long serving solicitor,
could confirm.
So you just invite him over here
and then announce that you're his mother?
I haven't quite figured out the storyline yet.
Perhaps his father's spirit reveals the truth to him.
The spirit of...
It will be Nathan, of course.
He's very good at mimicking the voices
through the loudspeaker.
Edwin.
He should be.
He was an actor before he decided
that crime paid better than Shakespeare.
You'll coach him to speak like the late Mr. Bonpree.
Give me some dirt from Edwin's present life.
There must be something he desperately wants to hide.
Well...
come to think of it...
he is involved in a somewhat insalubrious affair.
That's my boy. Who with?
I bet it's a married woman.
- My lips are sealed. - So it's even worse.
I know. It's a married man.
The gardener? The driver?
I am not discussing this.
I'm not even sure that Nathan is a good enough actor
to convince Edwin
that he is the late Mr. Bonpree.
Nonsense.
He puts on a star performance every séance we have.
He pretends to be deaf,
Clara starts chatting people up.
People don't suspect Nathan,
and he picks up quite a lot.
Clara? Who is this Clara?
Another ex-convict in your rehabilitation program.
The posh one.
Right. The redhead.
Well, your little criminal prodigies
have come in handy.
Nathan has this American broad,
whom he used as a bait.
Hmm, right, Molly Jones.
A bad apple, that one.
But people trust her.
She acts as my secretary.
Even if we could pull it off,
and I'm not sure that we can,
do you really think that Edwin would just
sign over his fortune to you...
and then die for your convenience?
Of course not.
I am the one
who will sign my fortune over to him.
How? Why?
What else would a dying mother do
for her long lost son?
Oh, dying?
Oh, you have thought this through.
And if I were to name him
my sole surviving relative and heir...
Wouldn't that automatically make me,
as his mother, the sole beneficiary
in the case of his death?
You told me he has no surviving relatives either.
Well...
technically, you are correct.
But he himself would need to sign
a document to that effect.
You just get us in the same room together
and leave the rest to me.
I had time to train.
You just do the groundwork.
There's enough here to bring down a bull.
That ring is worth a fortune.
Just an investment
with guaranteed return.
Now, remember,
it must be ground into fine powder.
Puddings and soups are best
for incorporating the dust.
Well, eggnog is the best,
but I don't feel like waiting until Christmas.
This will make
five hefty doses.
In a week, he'll feel out of breath.
Then a cough will set in.
Normally, he might last a month,
or a month and a half, tops.
But if we were to add
this new wonder drug, ephedrine,
to speed things along...
- Ephedrine? - A stimulant.
To increase blood pressure and accelerate heart rate.
Very bad if you have respiratory problems.
And a ticky ticker, just like poor Sir Lemuel had.
Oh, Alfred, think of it.
You will be rich, free.
Your own master at last.
Well...
It does sound good on paper.
You just leave everything to me, honey.
A lady must have her secrets.
That was secret number five.
Oh, I need a drink.
Well, you've certainly earned one.
How long do you think before I actually get my money?
I mean, our money.
Oh, well, that might take some time.
After all, it is a colossal sum.
I'm thinking of Brazil
or Cuba.
I'm too delicate for this damp climate.
What about this house?
I'll sell it. Lock, stock, and barrel.
Can't stand this stuff. The old mausoleum.
Well, worked fine as a backdrop
for a good old spiritualist racket, though.
Hmm, well. I might buy it myself.
You?
You will be boating on the Riviera in a week.
Oh, no, it would raise suspicion
if we were both to disappear at the same time.
We must keep up appearances.
Well...
I suppose we better call the police.
Or would it look better
if we called the ambulance first?
To show we did everything in our power
to save him.
I suppose so,
but why are we still sitting here in the dark?
What was that?
What was what?
There is someone in the house.
Nonsense. You're just imagining things.
Didn't you hear that?
I heard nothing.
I'm sure I heard footsteps.
There, again.
- Who's there? - Oh, no. Calm down.
You're on edge.
There's no one here, but you and I.
If those scavengers think they can come back
to blackmail me.
- Alfred! - What's the matter, dear?
Don't tell me you didn't see that.
I can't see anything in this darkness.
Why don't you go turn on the light?
Oh, bloody hell.
I almost fainted holding my breath.
The wine must've gone down the wrong pipe.
Well?
Fried.
Certainly smells like it.
As she should have been years ago.
That was one hell of a job,
Molly and Nathan.
Got her just dessert, she did.
Only glad to lend a hand, Mr. Arnheim.
Our first loyalty is always to you, Governor.
I had no doubt about that.
And excellent work on that light switch.
I unscrewed the casing earlier
and when I turned off the lights...
I just sticked it off, nice and discreet.
I'll wire the money to your American account tomorrow.
Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Arnheim.
We are going to get married
and buy a little farm in Ohio.
Oh, that's the spirit.
But before you do, you need to call the police
and inform them of the tragedy we just witnessed.
The poor mother electrocuted in front of her loving son.
And all witnessed by the family solicitor.
It's what we call in legal parlance...
an act of God.
And you can't prosecute God, can you?
Right.
Time for the last performance.
Poor stupid Zena.
Always so intelligent and observant.
Unless blinded by the brilliance
of her own performance.
We should get that poison ring,
so we don't raise any more suspicions.
Such a clever device.
I think I'll keep this one in souvenir.
Always useful
when you have your hand over someone else's drink.
No wonder she didn't notice you swap our goblets.
I myself didn't even notice that.
You have nifty fingers.
In my profession you must.
Hmm. Oh.
She looks so naked without her ring.
Perhaps we should return this one to her.
Nope.
This one will buy me a Rolls-Royce.
An emerald green one.
So, mommy dearest...
was there something you didn't think of?
I've been thinking.
Thinking?
Maybe we should rob her.
Who?
That witch you've been eating on.
How much did you say she was worth, exactly?
What's it to you?
You just inherited two million.
Well, that's the thing.
It's all gone.
What do you mean, gone?
I've been having these gambling debts.
Gambling debts?
Yes, and if one doesn't honor one's gambling debts,
one is likely to get rubbed out.
So I honored them.
You had two million in gambling debts?
Don't be silly.
You know damn well most of that money
is tied up in the company.
I couldn't get a penny without the board's consent.
I barely had half a million in cash.
Your father has been dead for three months
and you have half a million
in gambling debts.
No, no, most of that debt was from before.
From my time at boarding school.
Edwin. I envy your education.
And one has to keep up appearances
to reassure those, whom one owes money to.
Spend a penny to save a penny, as they say.
After these chaps went out about my inheritance,
I was faced with a bit of an ultimatum.
I'll be damned.
I should be in charge of your finances.
I am your financial advisor, after all.
Yes, and I'm of age now.
Right you are. It's your duty.
So now, it is your duty
to get me out of this predicament.
Oh, no.
We need to eliminate your bad habits.
Starting with the most expensive ones.
Spending less isn't a solution,
it's a punishment.
I'm perfectly prepared to get rid of my gambling debts,
but my bad habits...
never.
Well, what is the solution?
I'll split the money with you.
What money?
Her money, of course.
Which you will receive after she's dead.
Because you will marry her.
We've been over this, Edwin.
She refuses to marry me.
How could anyone refuse you?
Well, she knows all men are after her money.
The funny thing is, she doesn't even know
how much she's worth.
Her hubbies died, before they had a chance
to give her a tour of their riches.
You mean the painting?
The stupid woman doesn't even realize
that she has an original Da Vinci
on her wall.
Besides, I... I wouldn't dare marry her.
She is a professional widow.
She's put three husbands in their graves and...
I taught her how to do it.
So we could rob the painting and she wouldn't even realize.
Can't you think any bigger than that?
She has more than just a painting.
She has stocks and bonds and properties.
And she knows absolutely nothing
about the market.
But aren't you her financial advisor too?
Couldn't you make some of these stocks and bonds disappear?
Edwin, you disappoint me.
Petty theft? No.
If we go after it...
we go after all of it.
Yes, that's my Alfred. Yes.
Yes, you've got it all figured out, haven't you?
I can see the cog turning in that pretty head of yours.
First, we have to do...
is make her...
go after your fortune.
- Isn't she already loaded? - Well, that's the thing.
I've managed to convince her that her stocks are falling.
She thinks her wealth is dwindling
and she can't bear the thought.
Go on.
But, you see...
I've told her about your immense inheritance
and she can't get it out of her head.
I also mentioned that you have...
An incurable heart condition, asthma,
and will probably die very soon.
That really piqued her interest.
I've also gone to great length about how much I hate you.
That you are...
A spoiled brat,
fit only for gambling, drinking and philandering.
A self-centered narcissist,
who always gets his way and who treats me like a dog.
It's only a matter of days
before she'll bring the subject up herself.
I've told her that you are...
Morbidly afraid of death and ghosts
and everything supernatural.
I can hear the wheels whirring in her little head.
She asked "who would your fortune go to if you died?"
And I told her you had...
No living relatives left in the world.
Then, last week, I made my move
and I told her... You were actually adopted
and that your real parents
were the Bonpree gardener and his wife.
I could almost taste her excitement.
I'm sure she would have
concocted a plan by now.
One that she is convinced is entirely her own.
And when's your next meeting with her?
In one hour.
I applaud you, good sir.
And toast you with champagne.
With the best.
So, Mommy dear,
you were wrong.
That was the fifth secret.
Oh, my God. Please.
There's been a terrible, horrible, horrible...
That is one hell of a performance.
By Jove, it is.
One should pay good money to watch that.
Oh, but we are.
- Or are we? - Whatever do you mean?
Nathan behind the wheel
is a disaster waiting to happen.
Leadfooted driver, speeding under the influence
on a notoriously dangerous cliff road.
In a car with no brakes, in a rainstorm.
I'd say there's a 50-50 chance that no paying is necessary.
Make that 60-40.
Without...
No, you didn't.
I did, just after I arrived.
- Oh, you're such a ruthless... - Villain?
State executor.
Sir, sir.
Be sure to drive safely now, sir.
Thank you, officer.
And, once again, my condolences to you, sir.
- Thank you, officer. - Thank you.
- Have an excellent evening. - Thank you, sir. Thank you.
You've been practicing that coughing so thoroughly,
it's become quite a habit with you, huh?
Oh, I don't know.
I feel the more I cough,
the more something's stuck in my throat.
I feel like shit.
I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.
Anyway...
that was fun.
Yeah, like an American movie.
Just arriving all Solomon serious.
Spiel's crying. Ha-ha!
Yes, me being interrogated in one room
and you in the other.
Yeah, well, fortunately, we all saw what happened.
- Nothing to lie about. - Hmm.
By the way, why did that police officer
offer you his condolences?
Oh, that.
I'm not sure.
Had something to do
with me being a lawyer, maybe.
Seems a bit over-ambitious to me.
Right. Did a good job.
It was an open and shut case.
Oh, indeed.
Flawless. Yeah.
Almost makes me want to write a crime novel about it.
Which you will never do.
Of course not, no.
With all this money, I'll never have to do
a single thing again in my life.
Never again.
Don't you... Don't you mean that "we"
will never have anything to do with our lives, Edwin?
Yes, well, I've been thinking.
Well... well, you've been doing that quite a lot lately.
Legally speaking, it's my money, yeah?
My mother left it to me.
Isn't that so?
Is there something you'd like to tell me?
I mean, I think most of that money
should belong to me.
It was basically my idea.
- Now was it? - Yeah.
Of course, you've been a great help to me.
But you're a family lawyer.
Isn't that what you're supposed to be?
A great help?
I... I... I put the idea in your head.
Now, you can't argue against that.
I suppose so.
I'm glad you can see things from my way, yes.
And you'll always have this position.
All this money, after all,
bonds and stocks have to be managed.
- It's a full time job. - I'm sure it is.
Yeah.
That sounds positively morbid, my dear boy.
Got a handkerchief?
Check the glove compartment.
Oh, shit. Blood.
Oh, you're just over excited.
There's nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't fix.
What?
What does this Cablegram mean?
Which one?
"Congratulations, old friend.
Kiss the blushing bride for me."
Didn't I tell you?
I... I got married on Monday.
You...
With?
Madame Orlofsky, of course.
It was the final condition
that I set for killing you.
Oh, don't look at me like that.
That was your idea, after all.
But why?
Because we all loved you, boy.
So... so you told the truth.
Nothing but the truth, my dear boy.
Nothing but the truth.
So, you see, officer, it was to be a...
A family reunion of sorts.
I met my wife while searching
for the birth mother of my ward.
He found his mother and I...
I found the love of my life.
And now...
this tragedy.
I hope the shock won't prove too violent for the young man.
He's not so Well, you know?
He has a bad heart, asthma.
To be honest, his mother and I were fearing
for the worst.
I feel such a responsibility for him now,
that I am, legally,
his last living relative left in the world.
"One emerald ring duplicate."
Is this the lost earring?
Impossible to tell the difference, isn't it?
So, this is the original...
and this is the copy and paste?
Ah. Perfect.
Just a small investment with a guaranteed return.
Oh, my heart.
I don't feel...
I don't feel so well.
Are you sure you changed the goblets?
Did I...
or did I not?
Did I...
or did I not?
That is my...
little secret.