-Jolly good, Binks.
Jolly good.
[ Bird squawks ] What are you using?
Iron shaft.
Gracious.
Not sure I could ever get used to that.
-Well, one must move with the times, Williams.
-So I'm told.
-Oh.
Bad luck.
[ Bells tolling ] -I don't doubt it, madam.
I don't doubt it.
Yes.
Very fine, I'm sure.
Very fine.
The fact remains, however, that the museum is chiefly interested in topographical subjects, English topographical subjects at that.
And so your late mother's collection of pots... Delftware.
I do beg your pardon.
Delftware does, uh, does not come within my purview.
You take my point?
Mm.
No, no, I am sure they're very charming.
"Dear sir, we beg to call your attention to number 978 in our accompanying catalog, which we shall be glad to send on approval.
Yours faithfully, J.W.
Britnall."
Well, I'm afraid I really must be going now, madam.
978.
"Unknown.
Interesting mezzotint view of a manor house."
�2, 2 shilling.
Oh.
Pricey.
Oh [chuckles] no, that wasn't meant for you.
Terribly sorry, madam.
Well, don't hesitate to call us again if you come across anything that you think might be appropriate for us.
Not at all.
Any time.
Any time at all.
Yes.
Goodbye.
Yes, goodbye.
[ Sighs ] -Her again?
-Yes.
Means well, of course, but, uh, quite mad.
We have enough tat here as it is.
Speaking of which... -Oh?
-It's from this Lord Britnall.
He sends me things from time to time in which he thinks the museum might take an interest.
Brought my attention to a picture.
-�2, 2 shillings.
-Well, quite.
My thoughts exactly.
Doesn't look anything out of the ordinary, does it?
-Can't really say, what with my eyes.
I can't tell the difference between a tin of treacle and a bottle of Jeyes Fluid these days.
-Well, from what I can see, dear lady, it's -- it's nothing special.
Lord Britnall knows his stuff.
I know.
I'll drop him a line and get it on approval.
I wonder if there's anything else worth noting.
-Tea will get cold.
-Yes, thank you, I hadn't forgotten.
-Yes, but he played a Dunlop five, which was obviously suicidal.
Of course, with a Mashie all he had to fall back on, his goose was effectively cooked.
It was a bit of jam.
Tea?
-Well, ordinarily I would, old man, but, oh, it's a bit of a nip in here.
-Say no more.
-Is this for the museum?
-It's a bit of a puzzle actually.
Arrived this morning from old Britnall.
-Huh.
-Soda?
-Just a thread.
-I mean, you can see a dozen like it at any country pub.
It's a rather indifferent mezzotint.
And an indifferent mezzotint is the worst form of engraving known.
I'd pay 5 shillings for it.
But Britnall wants two guineas.
-Why?
-Well, that's the puzzle.
What the devil does he see in it?
It's pretty wretched.
There aren't even any figures in it to give it life.
-I think you're being a wee bit harsh, old man.
Moonlight seems rather good to me.
-Moonlight?
I don't recall there being any moon.
-I should have thought there were figures, or at least a figure just on the edge in front.
Look.
See?
-Oh, yes.
How odd that I never noticed that.
Mind you, the reproduction in the catalog was rather poor.
Yes, the moonlight is rather nicely caught, isn't it?
-Any idea where this place is?
-Further part of the puzzle... -Is it something Lee Hall?
Sussex?
Essex?
-Quite.
Ring any bells?
-No, I can't say it does.
Aren't your people from Essex?
-A long time back.
It all gets a bit murky.
I've been trying to do a bit of digging, as it happens.
I bicycle down at the weekends, but the trail has gone decidedly cold.
Oh, well.
An evening with my gazetteer beckons.
Thanks for the game.
I'll beat you yet.
Same time Thursday?
-Why not?
Cheerio.
-Mm-hmm.
[ Door opens ] [ Door closes ] [ Birds chirping ] Oh, I was expecting -- -My husband.
Yes.
Of course you were.
But Robert has a very full rota of parish visits.
So he tells me.
I'm afraid you'll have to make do with me.
-Oh, well, that's no hardship.
Let me help you.
-No, no, not quite decrepit yet.
Oh.
And do not sorrow for the joy of the Lord is your strength.
Parish registers aplenty here.
Back to the flood, practically.
Not that there ever was such a thing.
I shall get in trouble again.
I fear your search will be a difficult one, Mr. Williams?
-Yes, alas, a very ordinary surname.
-Was there a particular reason for your search?
A particular ancestor, or do you simply like to dig?
-Well, there is a reason actually -- -I dig myself.
They're rather further back than even you were attempting.
-Oh.
-Paleontology, Mr. Williams.
It is my passion.
Alas, this district is rather barren in that respect.
Fragments of lobster, turtle shells.
The odd shark's tooth.
But it is not encouraged.
No, indeed.
My husband has views.
But in our old parish, oh, they tumbled from the cliffs like shiny little Easter eggs.
The ammonite, the belemnite.
But you haven't come all this way to hear a silly old sausage like myself pontificating about her hobbies.
-Well, we're all enthusiasts of one sort or another, are we not?
I am unmarried, without issue, and one must fill the idle hours somehow.
As I say, there is a point to my research.
Something of a family mystery.
-I'm all ears.
-Well, it's, um...
It's a little delicate.
You see, my great grandfather, Oswald, he had two surnames on his birth certificate.
Williams, of course.
And -- And another, Francis.
The suggestion being... -Oh, I see.
-Obviously, such a thing would have been hushed up.
-Oh, quite so, quite so.
-So, uh, assuming my great grandfather was...illegitimate, then the point of my search is to track down this Francis family.
-Hmm.
Francis.
Does a little more color than Williams.
But...
I will do my best to dig.
Some fossil hunting all of your own, eh, Mr. Williams?
-[ Laughs ] [ Piano music playing ] -All I'm saying is, it wouldn't be the end of the world.
-Women?
-Precisely.
Twist.
Twist.
Stick.
-I don't think that's very wise.
-Oh?
-This college has trundled on unperturbed through war and pestilence.
But this cuts to its very heart.
-What's that?
-Giving degrees to women.
Binks here thinks the college will crumble.
-I quite agree.
It stands to reason.
-Reason has precious little to do with it.
-What is the point in tradition if one is constantly changing things?
-Constantly?
What the devil has changed here in the past 500 years?
-The quality of the plum pudding has sharply declined.
Happily, the booze is still top notch.
May I, Williams?
-Of course.
Oh, by the way, Garwood, you've got an eye for a picture.
You might want to take a look at that.
-Oh, what is it?
-Take a look.
-[ Sighs ] A long-haired youth tried to flog me a bad oil the other day.
Claimed it was a Titian.
I said that unless the great man had had a palsy in middle age and had lost the ability to paint a woman's buttock, then I very much doubt it that... Where did you get this, Williams?
-Ah, from a dealer I know.
It's a curious little thing, isn't it?
It's pretty ghastly, but, uh, it's curious.
-Ghastly?
It's rather fine, Williams.
-Yes, I thought so, too.
-Yes, it has quite the feel of the romantic period, and the light is admirably managed, and the figure is rather grotesque.
It's very impressive.
-Ha!
-I say.
-5-card trick.
Beat that.
-Yes.
It's rather too grotesque.
-No, no, no, no, no.
Be sensible, Edward.
Bed, up the woodland hill.
[ Wind whistling ] Impossible.
Impossible.
[ Piano lid slams ] -Well, you are off form today.
-Sorry.
Sorry, Binks.
I didn't, um...
I didn't sleep well last night.
-You get anywhere with that picture of yours?
-What?
-Sussex or Essex, wasn't it?
-Yes, something like that.
-My game, I think.
-I want you to tell me exactly what you see in the picture.
Describe it, if you don't mind.
Rather minutely.
I'll tell you why afterwards.
-Well, um...
I have here a view of a country house.
English, I presume.
And by moonlight.
-Moonlight.
You're sure of that?
-Certainly.
The moon appears to be on the wane, if you wish for details.
-I do.
-And there are clouds in the sky.
-Alright.
Go on.
-Well, um, there's not much more left to say.
The house has one, two, three rows of windows, five in each row, except at the bottom where there's a porch instead of -- -What about figures?
-Figures?
-Yes.
-There aren't any.
-What?
-There are no figures.
-No.
There must be.
On the lawn in front of the house.
-Not a thing.
-You'll swear to it?
-Sir, are you -- -Swear to it.
-Yes, of course I will, if it's what you want.
-What else?
-What?
-Anything else about the picture?
-No, it's just an ordinary view of a front -- Oh.
Just a moment.
One of the windows on the ground floor, left of the door, it's -- It's open.
-Open.
He must have got in.
-What?
Who?
-When I first saw the mezzotint, it was just a view of the house.
No moonlight and no figures.
Bink's, my golfing partner, not a man prone to imaginings, wouldn't you say?
-I would.
-Well, he saw it first.
The alteration -- moonlight... and a figure where there'd been no figure.
I merely thought that I hadn't noticed these things on the first viewing.
But then last night... Well, you were there.
What was it Garwood said?
-That the figure was rather grotesque.
-Yes.
And then, just before I retired for the night, I saw it myself.
Uhh... A shape crawling over the lawn.
-And now?
-No figure and an open window.
By all that's reasonable, Nisbet, this is a rank impossibility.
And yet it is so.
I've jotted it all down.
Will you write out a description of the picture as you've just seen it and sign it?
-If it'll make you happy, but look here -- -Please, for me.
-Very well.
But I was going to say I can photograph it for you if you'd like.
-Oh.
-Would that be an idea?
-Well, certainly it would.
Then we'd have a proper record of the alterations.
-Right, then.
But look here, sir.
Are you sure you -- -I know what it looks like, Nisbet.
But it's the truth, I swear it.
The picture...changes.
-What is this, a trick?
-It's no trick.
-Is it, um, what do they call it?
A sympathetic ink.
-It's all true, Garwood.
-You're pulling my leg.
Nesbit, is he pulling my leg?
-I swear...it's true.
-Gracious.
What can it all mean?
-It looks very much to me as if we were assisting at the working out of some sort of tragedy.
A record of some long-forgotten mischief.
-Where is it now?
-In my office at the museum.
-Well, don't you think you should be watching it?
-No, I...
I don't think it works like that.
I rather imagine we're meant to see the whole thing.
You see, between the time that I saw it the other night and when I showed it to Nisbet, there was time for a lot of things to happen.
But the creature only got into the house.
-Creature?
-The figure then.
It could have quite easily got about its business in that time and, uh, gone back to wherever it came from.
But the fact of the window being open, I think, must mean that... that it's in there now.
So I feel quite easy about leaving it.
-Might we go and see the picture?
-I beg your pardon, sir.
I shouldn't have taken the liberty.
-Are you quite -- Oh, you've seen it?
-Yes.
-What do you make of it?
-Well, sir, of course, I know nothing about art and such.
And I don't set up my opinion against yours.
But it ain't the sort of thing I should hang where my kiddie could see it, sir.
-Oh.
-No, sir.
Well, if she were to catch sight of that...skeleton, whatever it is carrying off whatever it is, oh, she would be in a taking.
Will you be wanting anything more today, sir?
-Oh, no.
No, thank you, Mrs. Oder.
-Thank you, sir.
[ Door opens ] [ Door closes ] -Great God.
What is it?
What is that...thing?
-What is that...in his arms?
Is it... -A child.
[ Fire crackling ] [ Knock on door ] [ Knocking continues ] Wh--Who is it?
-It's me.
-Who?
-Who?
It's Binks, of course.
You gonna let a fella in?
-Yes.
Yes.
Of course.
-Beware of golfers bearing gifts.
-What?
-Say, old man, are you alright?
You look awfully peaky.
-Yes, I'm -- I'm alright.
What is it?
-Well, it's the solution to your little puzzle.
May I?
Maria's guide to Essex.
Just sitting there in the college library, would you believe?
Large as life.
And I thought, "Well, maybe there's an answer to old William's problem."
Took me all of five minutes to find it.
There.
"Anninglee, 16.5 miles north of Colchester.
The church has been an interesting building of Norman date, but it was extensively classicized in the last century.
It contains the tomb of the family of Francis."
-Francis?
-Yes.
"Whose mansion, Anninglee Hall, a solid Queen Anne house stands immediately beyond the churchyard, in a park of about 80 acres.
The Francis family is now extinct, the last heir having disappeared mysteriously in infancy in the year of 1802.
The father, Mr. Arthur Francis, was locally known as a talented amateur engraver in Mezzotint.
After his son's disappearance, he lived in complete retirement at the hall and was found dead in his studio on the third anniversary of the disappearance, having just completed an engraving of the house, impressions of which are of considerable rarity."
There.
Something-lee hall in Essex or Sussex must be... -Anninglee Hall in Essex.
-Well, your picture, your mezzo-whatsit.
might be worth a bob or two.
Oh, is that it?
-No!
-So there you are.
Case closed.
There's no need to thank me.
Do you know?
I think you're right, Williams.
It's nothing very remarkable, after all, is it?
-Really?
As much as that?
Fascinating.
[ Knock on door ] Uh, I'm afraid I really must be going now, madame.
No, I don't think it counts as treasure trove.
No, not at all.
Well, goodbye.
Yes.
Goodbye.
-I trust this isn't an inconvenience.
I would have wired you, but as I knew I'd be in the area, I thought I might pop in.
-You're most welcome.
-Well, I happened to fall into conversation with a local lady, you see, who comes to deadhead the flowers.
A font of all knowledge and gossip going back who knows how long.
I mentioned the name Francis to see whether -- Well, it was all I could do to stop her talking.
It seems there was a Mr. Arthur Francis.
-Yes.
I've recently come into possession of some information regarding him.
-Oh.
Then my trip is wasted.
-Oh, no, no, not at all, dear lady.
Pray, tell me everything.
-Well, tragedy befell this Arthur Francis.
His only heir... -Disappeared, yes.
I-I do beg your pardon.
Was there some speculation as to what might have happened to the infant?
-Oh, well, old Mr. Francis was apparently always very much down on poachers, and one in particular he had it in for.
But Francis, they said, could never get at this fellow.
Gawdy, he was called.
What a name.
Gawdy.
Francis could never get at him because he always kept just on the right side of the law.
Until one night the keepers found him poaching in a wood just at the end of the estate.
Well, that was what Francis was waiting for.
And poor Gawdy was strung up in double quick time.
Buried on the north side of the church.
Of course, that's always the way.
Anyone who's been hanged or made away with themselves, they bury them that side.
Silly superstition, of course.
Like all of it.
Anyway, the idea was that some friend of Gawdy must have been planning to take hold of Francis's boy and, out of revenge, put an end to his line.
-Some friend?
-Yes.
Well, it could hardly have been Gawdy himself, could it?
But that is not my main point.
There's more.
-More?
-Oh, yes.
Arthur Francis was apparently something of a rake.
And the gossip is that he -- Well, he fathered a child with one of his servants, but he wasn't such an ogre that he didn't provide for the child.
He paid for a local family to raise it.
To raise him.
Can't you guess?
The family's name was Williams.
And the child's name... -Oswald.
-Indeed!
Your great grandfather.
[ Gasps ] It all fits.
Don't you see what this means?
You are the last of the Francis line.
Oh.
Isn't that splendid?
-Splendid.
[ Golf club hits ball ] -Well played.
Look at her go.
-I've been thinking about what Nisbet is proposing.
-Nisbet?
Oh, the -- the young fella.
Degrees for women, you mean?
-Yes.
I think he may be right.
-You do?
-Yes.
-Good Lord, Williams.
Someone slip something in your chota peg?
-One must look to the future, Binx, not the past.
[ Humming ] [ Clock ticking ] [ Breathing heavily ] -[ Soft growling ]
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