Bookish

So, can you use a gun?

Well, I prefer fists.

Who will I be fighting?

Our enemies.

Have you ever been to prison?

Why d'you ask?

The terms you're willing to take.

What did you do?

[Sighs] My pals saw something in a shop window they wanted.

So, I drove into it.

It's called a smash... Smash-and-grab, yes.

I know, I do read the papers.

Says here you've recently worked for a film actor.

Yes.

As his bodyguard?

Amongst other things.

But before that, in this... bookshop?

Ruhije: Why did you leave there?

I didn't care for it.

And you're happy with this... this arrangement?

Well Book has his life, I have mine.

It works.

I'm amazed more people don't do it.

I knew him... your father.

I knew him before the war.

You knew him?

Well... Jack?

Er, this is I can't I... I can't.

Jack, where are you going?

Nafije: But your previous employer trusted you?

Yes.

Despite your history?

Because of it... perhaps.

And should we... trust you?

Well I suppose you'll find out, when the next assassin comes.

[Coin clinking] [Motor whirring] Nora.

I never did it.

Never did what?

Made shillings out of ice and put them in the meter.

What's all this corrosion then?

That's rust.

Yes, it is.

Cold, isn't it?

We could burn a few... No, we couldn't.

Not even a Georgette Heyers?

No!

Really, Nora, for someone so new to the pleasures of reading, you're fast becoming a terrible snob.

What is it?

[Sighs] Feels quiet without him.

God bless the Walsingham and all who sail in her.

[Chuckles] Ugh... Oh, God.

Can you just... Ooh!

Oh, bloody hell.

[Crash] Ooh!

Do forgive me, my dear, I seem to be in a state of advanced refreshment.

Oh, I had noticed, Victor.

Just stay... stay there.

I'll fetch a cloth.

Waitress: Cigarette, Sir?

Dunhill or Capstan?

Waitress: Sir?

[Whispering] Can we talk?

Jack: Thank you.

Thank you, Sir.

[General chatter] Here, it's for him.

Oh.

Thank you.

Please enjoy.

Not enough lemon juice.

Too much ice.

And, I did not like the way you... shook it.

Too violent.

Mhm.

Ruhije: Huh.

Of course.

Excuse me.

They think I'm too violent.

[Dumping drinks] It's a violent art.

It's a good thing I didn't waste any gin on them then.

You're a quick learner.

[General chatter] [Phone ringing] [Chuckles] I'm glad you've fallen on your feet.

I had no idea you'd be here.

We haven't seen you in weeks.

How are you?

Look, I haven't got long.

What d'you want?

Oh, Jack.

This is silly.

We miss you.

We both hoped you'd found a safe berth in Archangel Lane.

A home.

Book and me, well, our arrangement is unusual, I know, but as I said to you when we first met... 'Love is where it falls'.

Mm.

And how does my father fit in to all of that?

Hm?

One of Mr Book's little dalliances, was he?

Well, Book needs to talk to you about your father properly.

[Scoffs] Look, our marriage protects us both.

Don't we have the right to be happy?

Happy?

What, galivanting off into the night, him with God-knows-who, and you... Victor: Trottie!

Get me that cloth, damn it!

Is that the latest, is it?

Fellow with the moustache.

He's Captain Orr.

I knew him before the war.

Oh.

Dreamboat of the officers' mess, was he?

Mm.

Something like that.

Listing slightly now, though, eh?

Victor: Trottie!

[Scoffs] You don't half pick 'em.

Mrs Book.

Well, we'd better not keep him waiting.

'scuse me.

[Sighs] Victor: Oh, come to my room and help me dry off.

I'm wet, woman!

Give me the damn cloth.

Come on.

Get your ruddy hands off me!

I won't have it.

For shame.

Oh, dear, Sir.

Oh, you've had a right mishap.

Victor: Who's this?

Jack: Wet trousers are against the dress code, you know.

This is the Walsingham.

So, why don't you go back to your room, take the wet pants off and have a little lay down?

I have never been so insulted.

I'm sure you have been.

Fella like you.

Ah, Victor Orr, my old friend.

I can't leave you alone for 5 minutes, can I?

Victor: The bloody girl can't take a joke.

Trottie: Sit down.

Er, can we have a couple of those?

What... what do you call them?

Walsingham Sours.

For the two ladies.

For their royal highnesses, you mean.

[Chuckles] These are on me, ladies.

And may I say, you are looking superbly Balkan tonight.

I salute the House of Scutari.

[Chuckles] Whichever Commissar lives in it now.

Take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you when you get dethroned by the Reds.

Ruhije: Oooh!

Victor: Oh!

Oh, dear.

Allow me.

So embarrassing, I do apologise.

Not at all.

Not at all.

Look after the pennies, and the pounds will look after themselves, what.

[Chuckles] [Sighs] Now then.

I er, had a bit of luck on the horses.

You, er, you know Ascot?

Very well, Sir.

How was the going?

Oh, er, good to firm.

Hm.

After this, shall we, er... [Clicks tongue] Mm, normally my favourite ellipsis, but I just think we should call it a night now, Victor.

Oh, Trottie.

You're no fun anymore.

It's amazing how different things can look without the benefit of the blackout.

Man in back: How you doin'?

Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke.

Tinkety-tonk.

[Chuckles] [Coughing and choking] Victor!

[Choking] [Gasps and shrieks from crowd] [Change rattling] [Sighing] This is a Deutschmark.

Yes.

This... is Chinese.

Oh.

And this... is a button.

It's a very nice button.

Nora, have you been taking shillings from this tin?

No.

Remind me, what's the price of a green Penguin crime novel?

A shilling.

A shilling.

Ah.

That's better.

[Groans] [Coin rattling] [Clanks and buzzing] Ah, success.

[Sighs] [Creaking, bang] [Sighs] Ah!

Oh, it's you.

You ready to commit an affray, Miss?

No, Sergeant, she was just, erm, browsing.

I hate to seem inquisitive, but why are you here?

There's a chap been killed at the Walsingham.

Poisoned.

Dead in a pile of pound notes on the floor of the River Bar.

Oh, that's just our sort of thing.

Don't get too excited.

The Inspector wants a book.

Er, G Book, esq.

There's some foreign royalty involved, it seems.

He says, er, 'Do you have anything on the Balkan Rules of Revenge, specifically the Kanun of Scutari?'

How too, too ridiculously obscure.

Do you have it?

Almost certainly.

Mm.

And, er, 504, he says.

504?

Room With A View, hm.

It's alright for some, I suppose.

Mrs Book's already checked in.

Why?

Oh, er, she's one of the suspects.

Trouble in paradise, is there, Sir?

[Tutting] [Bell over door jangling] Ho-ho, what a beauty.

Yes.

Might be one of those clues.

We like those.

D'you mind?

Yes.

[Cork popping] Do people really say, 'What's your poison?'

when... when they're at the bar?

No idea.

I don't get out much.

What d'you mean?

Look, we're at the Walsingham.

So's he.

Oh, yeah, let's, er, let's get him somewhere more private, yeah.

Not the main entrance, please, Inspector.

I'm sorry we can't be more discreet.

May I suggest the service corridor?

Ah, yes.

Yes.

Thank you, Mr Kind.

Oh, nothing to stop you reopening the bar tomorrow, I think.

[Elevator dings] [Straining] Thank you.

Good evening, Sir.

Evening.

You have a reservation?

No, my wife has.

Your wife?

Mrs Book.

Have you seen her?

I'm afraid she may be distressed.

Trottie: Oh, Book.

Oh.

504, Freddie.

Er, no, I'll keep this one, thank you.

What's happened, darling?

What's this about a corpse?

Why have I been scouring my stacks for books on Balkan blood feuds?

[Sighs] I'm not proud of myself.

There was champagne.

A day at the races, Riddle-me-Ree in the 2.30, cocktails, more cocktails, and then... Trottie, we live our own lives.

That was always the deal.

Self-flagellation is never helpful, and not nearly as much fun as someone doing it to you.

Who was he?

Victor.

Orr.

Or...?

With two Rs.

Naval captain, married.

I'd met him before, in an air raid, '41.

He, er, made a pass at me in... in... Where?

Please don't make me say the F word.

Foyles.

Yes.

Oh, Trottie.

I just fancied a good time.

Well, there's nothing wrong with that.

But he turned out to be the most awful bore.

Where is he now?

In the morgue.

Ah.

One last night on the tiles.

And there's something else.

Bliss: Book.

Thank God you're here.

You ready?

Book: For what?

To interview royalty.

It's a little irregular, isn't it?

Righto.

They terrify me.

I'm not... not going in there alone.

Haven't you taken their fingerprints?

I got Morris to do that.

I may be a coward, but I'm not a fool.

I have our primary text, the Kanun of Scutari.

Oh, yeah.

Looks expensive.

Trottie: Will it pay for our suite, Inspector?

Oh, the late captain had taken care of that, Mrs Book.

You're in the room next to the princesses.

Oh, what are they like?

Oh, they're glamorous in a sort of disappointed and stateless kind of way.

Perhaps it's time I kept a closer eye on them, and an ear too.

I shall use one of those little glasses they keep by the sink.

So, will this help us find who done it?

It's a book of customary laws for remote mountain communities without a magistrate or justice.

The village elders consult the text and then tell you how much raki to provide for your daughter's wedding, what to do if your bees escape and build a nest on your neighbour's land, that sort of thing.

Huh.

And, who you're allowed to kill if somebody killed your cousin.

Ah.

Huh-huh-huh.

And what language did you think it was going to be in?

Well, we've three native speakers on the premises, but they're all suspects.

Who's the third?

Oh, he's a rather good-looking cocktail waiter.

Well, don't fret too much, the dutiful Teutonic scholar did publish a translation of it into German.

Ah, well, you... you certainly speak the German.

In his sleep, sometimes.

So, where is this translation?

Nora's looking for it now.

Must be somewhere in the Law section, or Social Science, or Etiquette.

Or propping open a door.

You said there was something else.

Yes.

These princesses have been giving gainful employment to one of the capital's dispossessed.

Oh, yes... I know.

Trottie: And there he is.

I'll, er, turn down the bedspread.

Sergeant Morris will be along soon to take a statement.

Yes, of course.

I... I'd be grateful, Mrs Book, if you didn't leave the hotel.

It's perfectly alright, Inspector.

You have to do your duty.

[Door closes] Here to see their royal highnesses.

[Sighs] [Tapping on door] Princess: Enter.

[Dog whining] Oh, Dog.

[Whining] Where is it?

Green, straight-grained, Morocco-bound folio with a lot of academic monographs bound inside.

Slightly foxed, according to the catalogue.

[Sighs] You're no help.

[Whining] 'Der Kanun des Scutari'.

Ooh, what would I do without you?

[Clock chiming] [Muffled voices speaking] [Loud knocking] Time for a little chat, Mrs Book.

[Sighs] Pouffe.

I... I beg your pardon?

I apologise for it.

[Furniture creaking] But we have sunk so low.

Remember the great banqueting table, Ruhije?

Hm?

Chairs made with birch, as silvery as the snow on the mountain tops.

Upholstered with damask so soft... Oh, we've been in more awkward situations than this, haven't we, Inspector?

That we have, Book.

Ruhije: So, which is the policeman?

You?

Or this... Book?

Well, he's taking notes for me.

Helping with the... Er, Pitman's shorthand, so useful.

[Chuckles] Tall and red-headed.

Like the poppies of our homeland.

I realise that this will be very difficult for you... your r-r-royal highnesses, er, but if there's any detail you can recall, however small, it may help us discover who killed Captain Orr.

That is easy, I killed him.

Sorry... you did what?

It is true.

I switched the glasses.

He drank the poison meant for one of us.

We have a routine, my sister and I, to cause a distraction.

Victor: I salute the House of Scutari.

Whichever commissar lives in there now.

Take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you if you get dethroned by the Reds.

Nafije: Ooh!

Victor: Oh.

Oh, dear.

Ruhije: So embarrassing, I do apologise.

Victor: Not at all.

Not at all.

Look after the pennies, and the pounds will look after themselves, what.

Ruhije: It is a habit.

A necessary precaution.

Like this.

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

There was a steward on the Berengaria, 'Can I turn over your room, madam?'

So transparent.

And that Salvation Army woman outside the opera, shaking her tin box.

Huh.

She denied everything, of course.

Who d'you think is trying to kill you?

The Communists, of course.

[In Albanian] Of course!

Erm, but they already have your palaces, your estates.

Our summerhouse on the Adriatic.

There is a lake there.

When the rising sun touches it, it is like the blush.

In the spring, our country was proclaimed the People's Republic.

They want what's the expression 'a big finish'.

Huh.

Huh.

Hence the bodyguard.

And how are you finding him?

As he failed to prevent an attempt on our lives, I would say he has not covered himself in glory.

Don't the Communists also have your other sister?

We do not speak of her.

Senije, yes?

The youngest.

She renounced her title.

We do not speak of her.

Red scum.

She betrayed her birthright, her country, her family.

[Whimpers] Take it.

Thank you.

[Nafije blowing her nose] Of course, if this does turn out to be the case, then your switching of the drinks will not be without consequence.

We are used to being pilloried.

We will take whatever comes to us.

Right.

Right.

[Clears throat] Now then, in your statement, you said something about this murder being written about in the Kanun of Scutari.

What does that mean?

It means that a killing like this follows certain customary principles.

It means the first thing you must do is arrest the cocktail waiter.

Ismail Guzili.

'Guzili'.

Gu... Gu... Guzi... Guzili.

Gu... Guzili.

Why?

He's from the mountains.

These people know the rules of revenge.

They are obsessed with them.

You must arrest him.

And you must bring in any others on the staff.

Other moun... mountain men?

Yes.

Yes.

Well, thank you so much.

This has b... this has been most helpful.

So you will do as we say?

No.

I will not.

[Scoffs] Why?

Because, Princess, I am not your subject.

And in this country, a man is innocent until proven guilty.

Whatever altitude he was born at.

You know, sometimes, Inspector, you make me proud to be from the gutter.

Book: Never really thought of myself as a Republican.

Bliss: Well it's the war, Book, changed us all.

Bliss: I never really thought of myself as a Jew.

D'you ever come here during the Blitz?

They had to let you in if there was a raid on, even without a tie.

We used to come down to the lower bar.

Was known as the 'Fruit Cellar'.

That was quite the mixed grill.

Maid: Housekeeping.

Can I change your towels?

[Sighs] [Crying] Hm.

You did nothing.

You're supposed to be my boyfriend, and you did nothing.

Eadie, what do you expect me to do?

Nothing.

[Sighs] Was he the one from this morning?

Yeah.

Came at me in a silk dressing gown, with everything pointing north.

His name is Captain Victor Orr.

Not anymore.

They already gave me a warning.

What?

Yeah, apparently shouting at lecherous customers isn't the Walsingham way.

I'll speak to Mr Kind.

It was Mr Kind who gave me the warning.

One more black mark, and I'm out on my arse.

[Slam] I hate this place.

You know... I was doing okay here.

At least, I thought I was.

What's the bloody point?

Eadie, I... I'm sorry.

You know, my dad was right about you, Ismail.

And I should've listened to him.

Leave me alone.

What?

[Scoffs] [Thud] 'I should've listened'' [Exhales loudly] [Tuts] [Loud thuds] [Thud] Morris: Ah.

Careful, Officer, my friend borrows these jazz mags from the matre d. Oh, you can't shock me, Sir.

I've been to the Windmill Theatre and seen those gents with the newspapers on their laps.

And brought a few into the station.

Been jazzing with this one, Sir?

No, no, that lot put me right off.

Oh, you hate your royal family, do you?

They're not my royal family.

They've been nobody's royal family since 1940.

Ever since they left us with that chap.

Hey, Marco, what was his name?

Mussolini, mate.

I knew you'd know, mate.

Righto, Sir.

Confiscating this as evidence.

You enjoy this, don't you?

It's just work, Sir.

Keep your temper.

Eh?

Suppose they usually take all that aggression out on the ice cubes.

[Door slams] Book, for Mr Book.

Oh.

It's the Kanun of Scutari.

It's Albanian.

[Dog whines] Mrs Book's out of the picture.

You can't be certain, though, Sir.

I've read her statement, and I'm satisfied it's nothing to do with her.

But, Sir... I'm satisfied, Morris.

Clear?

Mm.

So, you think it was one of us.

Book: I don't think anything, yet... Signor Barberini.

Guzili: Okay, well, I've narrowed it down to two.

A royal member of the House of Scutari.

Nafije or Ruhije.

Righto.

Method?

Poison.

Something slipped into the cocktail glass after he tried it on with Eadie Rattle.

That's the chambermaid, yes?

So, where was she when Captain Orr coughed his last?

Gone already.

Book: Motive?

Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Captain Victor Orr?

Guzili: Are you kidding?

That Captain was always here with different women.

Usually in the same room, 504.

Really?

Mm.

City view.

Noiseless bedsprings.

Duchess rate for favourite patrons.

And that Captain has been coming here for years.

Usually once a week.

Without a squeak.

You're very well-informed.

No secrets at the Walsingham, Sir.

We see all the dirty linen.

Cos we have to clean it.

Some might say, Mr Gaz... Guzili, that it's the duty of a grand hotel to make sure that the private left of a guest remains private.

And some might say, Inspector, that in a grand hotel, people are usually at it like cod in a bucket.

So it's a crime of passion, then.

Barberini: No.

I reckon the Captain was something in Intelligence.

During the war.

How do you know that?

Barberini: They're a type.

Friendly, but tell you nothing.

With a drink, they'll always have what the other person's having.

So, er, why would the princesses want to kill a British spy?

Because British Intelligence handed over Scutari to the communist partizans.

And the Captain recognised the princesses.

Book, flashback: Who are they?

Should I know them?

Balkans.

Same to you.

'D': Mm.

Nafije and Ruhije.

Princesses of the Royal House of Scutari.

Deposed by the Communists, and now drifting around the world like flotsam.

Very glamorous flotsam.

Wasn't there a scandal, they did a flit, and the bullion from the National Bank somehow found its way into their hat boxes?

Something of the sort.

And...?

They're drifting our way.

Your way, to be precise.

Oh, I see.

In the market for a set of dictionaries, are they?

They're staying at the Walsingham, just down the road from you.

And, er, there have been letters.

Threats.

Vicious ones.

You should speak to the Post Office then.

We'd be ever so grateful if you just... kept an eye on them.

I told you... I'm just a bookseller.

And I tol... I reminded you that we helped find young Jack.

It wasn't easy.

Eadie: Oh, it's you.

It's me.

Ta for... you know.

Ah, don't mention it.

Nn.

So, does it happen a lot then, does it?

Comes with the job, doesn't it?

'Can I do your nails, Sir?'

[Both laugh] Wouldn't have killed him for it, though.

Somebody did.

Yeah.

So... which side are you on?

Sorry?

Which side are you on?

Well, what are the options?

Well, there's the management in this hotel who treat their staff like muck and give a girl a mouthful just for standing up for herself.

Right.

Then there's the workers.

Okay, well, the workers, then.

Nice to hear your expression of solidarity, brother.

But it's deeds, not words, that count.

Don't you think?

Right.

So, why don't you go down there, to that taxi stand, get me a nice cup of Bovril?

I can't.

Maybe later.

I've gotta get back.

To their Royal bloody Highnesses.

'fraid so.

How does it feel, working for those parasites?

Is that what they are?

Well, what would you call them?

Sad... I suppose.

Yeah.

A bit sad.

Well, speaking for myself, I'd line them up... shoot the buggers.

[General chatter] [Woman speaking in distance] I can say a proper hello to you now, Edmund Kind.

Good evening.

'More than kind', I used to say.

Well, that's too kind.

[Chuckles] They closed it, you know, the lower bar.

The Fruit Cellar.

Oh, what a shame.

Yes, for redecoration.

Though when the work will actually start, I don't know.

Seems they prefer it mothballed, the management.

You mean it's all still there, the mural and everything?

Oh, yes.

Well, we could take a look.

If you'd like.

Well, I should really be getting back upstairs.

Of course.

I suppose a... a little peep wouldn't hurt.

Kind: Now, the question is... will the lights work?

Don't remember there being any.

We never turned them on.

Blackout, I suppose.

No, no, they're just terribly unflattering.

[Chuckles] Oh, yes, you're right.

Let's turn them off.

Just a soupcon.

If these walls could talk.

Kim Strang is dead, did you hear?

Kim Strang.

He used to keep his Max Factor in a gas mask box.

Well, he'd been in Egypt, hadn't he?

Had to keep that tan up.

What happened to him?

He walked into the sea at Shoreham, I'm sorry to say.

Somebody had his letters.

Dreadful, really.

Just dreadful.

And you're very married, I see.

Very, very married.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

And thanks for your help with the, erm, other matter.

Not at all.

What does Jack know?

That my wife and I have an arrangement, that I knew his late father.

Nothing more?

He found that difficult enough to take, ran out on us that very night.

Mm.

Floated here.

Where he is gainfully employed, thanks to you.

And able to keep an eye on the other bodies floating around, the regal Scutari ones.

Why do you need to keep an eye on those?

It's possible they were the intended victims.

Not the Captain?

It's a working hypothesis.

Are you with the police now, Gabriel?

You always were a dark horse.

It makes up a substantial part of my charm.

Christ, isn't that dangerous?

I mean, one false step... I am all too well aware of that, Edmund.

Although I do have a special letter from Churchill.

Still, you probably shouldn't be found in a dimly-lit basement bar, with... A terribly handsome old friend?

Well, perhaps not.

[Lights buzzing] Trouble with the grid?

Well, the Walsingham isn't connected to the grid.

It has its own oil-powered generators.

They bring it in by the barrel.

Everything depends on it, even the plumbing.

And what's a grand hotel without power and hot running water?

Well, I suppose it's just a big building full of people who are rather cold and rather hungry, and very, very rich.

I should get back.

Me too.

[Phone ringing] [Typewriter clacking] No big surprises on the poison front, Inspector.

The deadly glass contained boring old hydrochloric acid.

Oh, we can't all be virtuosos.

Virtuosi.

Well, the... the thumb print, enough for an arrest?

Enough for a hanging, maybe.

Okay, thank you.

Bye.

Where's Eadie Rattle?

Oh, erm, I'll check.

Very good.

Sir.

[Exhales] [Knocking] Did the blessed Sergeant get everything they required from you, dear?

Well I took him through it in exhausting detail.

Where did you get to?

I've been talking to the staff.

Oh, yes, very nice of you.

The ones who served you cocktails tonight.

Well, it was really only the younger one.

Guzili?

Trottie: If you say so.

Apparently, he poured a whole round down the sink, ice and fruit and all.

Could he have tampered with the second round?

Yes.

Nobody was looking because of the brouhaha.

Brouhaha.

Yes, one of the princesses dropped her reticule.

There was loose change all over the floor.

Yes, I've heard about that.

And after the brouhaha?

Well, I dragged Victor back to the bar, he made a toast, and then there was the furore.

A brouhaha, and then a furore.

It was very confusing.

Oh, and, er, there was a woman.

A woman?

I've just remembered, she handed me a cloth.

Like Saint Veronica on the Road to Calvary.

To mop up Victor Orr's trousers.

There was something about the look she gave me.

Poor Victor.

People were recoiling in pure horror.

It was burning his neck out, Book.

You could hear the crackle.

Book: I'm sorry you had a beastly time.

[Trottie sighs] I just wanted to get stinko and wake up somewhere with clean sheets and three-egg omelettes.

I wanted... something.

So, I wanted him.

I do love you, Mrs Book.

Ditto.

Book.

Yes?

We never really talk.

Talk?

About... the arrangement.

What's to talk about?

Well, to see that all's well, that we're both okay.

All is well.

Look, you left a light on for me.

Mm.

I could've been making love in this.

[Creaking] [Thuds] Trottie: In the dark.

Has anyone told Victor Orr's wife?

It's not like she was expecting him to come home.

D'you know who she is?

I don't really know who he was.

Still, I suppose he did get us a night here.

Isn't it marvellous?

Mm.

No clouds tonight.

Nowhere for the stars to hide.

We never really had a proper honeymoon, did we?

Bit of a diary clash.

The Luftwaffe had their hearts set on Eastbourne too.

The beach was very pebbly anyway.

And covered in barbed wire.

Does it worry you, though?

Disappoint you?

What?

The absence of landmarks, declarations, grand gestures.

Oh, no, Book.

In fact, I'm gonna make one now.

Oh, yes?

Let's order a bloody huge bottle of champagne.

[Trottie sighs] [Dialling] [Train whistle blows] [Man speaking German] I've got our papers, stamped and signed.

Tickets too.

Can't you do anything discreetly, my love?

We have five minutes till it leaves, platform 6.

We can be in Paris for breakfast.

There are no Nazis in Paris, but there are croissants, so it's all going to be fine.

[Train braking] I can't come with you, Book.

For the same reason that you must leave.

[Speaking German] Er... [Replies in German] [Train announcer speaking German] Oh, and I must return this to you, my... my... my dear fellow.

I love a good book.

A beautiful book.

And how easy it is to... to picture myself on some winter evening, in the country, lying with this particular book.

It moves me so much.

But... but I'm afraid I cannot keep it.

I know its frailties.

And some books get burned, you know.

And I should not like to be responsible for the loss of this one.

Because it is so dear to me... that I know it by heart.

'Henceforth, wherever thou may'st roam, My blessing, like a line of light...' 'Is on the waters day and night...' 'And like a beacon guards thee home'.

[Train announcer speaking German] [Speaking German] [Speaking German] [Speaking German] [Train whistle blowing] [Steam hissing] [Clock ticking] [Electricity buzzing and sputtering] [Thuds] Mr Kind.

I'm doing the rounds, explaining about the situation.

Be so good as to move around a little less silently, to rouse a suspicion.

Forgive me, your royal highness.

It's my training, you see.

Ruhije: It's mine too.

[Thuds and rumbling] An engineer is investigating.

I do apologise for any inconvenience.

We are accustomed to hardship.

What are you carrying?

Show me.

This is the Kanun, the Kanun of Scutari.

Why do you have this?

I'm taking it to Mr Book.

In the next room.

He's helping the police.

This is most interesting.

Continue.

Well, he's a sort of expert witness, and he's staying here with his wife, who I believe... I meant, continue on your way.

Goodnight.

Huh.

[Knocking] Oh, I thought you were a bottle of How dispiriting.

A book for Mr Book.

What is it, dear?

It's that book you wanted.

Oh, very good.

The lights are on the blink up here.

An engineer is investigating.

I do apologise for any inconvenience.

[Thuds] Is there anything more I can do for you?

Well, tracking down our champagne would be nice.

Of course.

Extraordinary man.

Smells nice, though.

Gardenia.

Capital, just what we need.

They're taking their time with that champagne, aren't they?

I think they're having trouble below.

[Straining] With the generators.

You don't need champagne, do you, Book?

Well... Just anything with footnotes.

And a bibliography.

And maybe an erratum slip.

[Chuckles] [Lights buzzing] [Book groans] I used to love this place, you know.

In the war, the rooms were cheap, 35 shillings a night.

Well, the ones nearest the V2s anyway.

Always plenty of life down in the bar.

Bit too much, sometimes.

Now the Walsingham is listing.

Like an old ship.

Hm.

Well, I'd like to smash a bottle against it.

[Chuckles] [Trottie sighs] [Train sounds] [Thuds, buzzing] Book: Let me tell the story of an old lady fair, standing sentinel across the years in the city's bonny square.

Let me tell the story of the journey down to hell, with the dear, delipidated Walsingham Hotel.

[Door opening] Book: Some came to stay, to rest, to play.

Some came to labour every day.

Some came to sound the passing bell, of the dear old Walsingham Hotel.

Book: But who killed Captain Victor Orr?

Princess, waiter, maid, or more?

Who came to sound the final bell for the dear, old Walsingham Hotel?

Well, then.

That's that.

[Bang] What was that?

[Gunshot, scream] Jack: Eadie!

Eadie.

You okay?

[Ruhije speaking Albanian] One more step, and I'll... [Gunshot]