Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke. Tinkerty-tonk.
Who was he? Victor all met him before an air raid. 41.
It is true. I switched the glasses. He drank the poison meant for one of us.
Nafije and Ruhije. We'd be ever so grateful if you'd just keep an eye on
them. This was the third attempt on our life since we left New York.
The first thing you must do is arrest that cocktail waiter and you must bring
in any others on the staff. You have a reservation?
Uh, no. My wife does. Your wife.
time for a little chat. What does Jack know?
My wife and I have an arrangement and that I knew his late father. Nothing more.
And should we trust you? Well, I suppose you'll find out.
When the next assassin comes.
Hello again. Hello. Fizz for them, I presume.
Who is it? It's me.
Champagne.
We did not order champagne.
...
One more step and I’ll…
Well, let's all calm down, should we?.
...
Bloody hell, that hurts. You okay?
You shut up, you bloody cop-out, you lunatic. I thought you had the gun. It
was a champagne bottle. Oh god.
Am I going to die? It's just a graze.
Luckily for you, your royal Highness, this is a very, very regrettable
incident, Miss? Eadie Rattle.
Miss Eadie, we live under the constant threat of assassination. The black
mantle of death hovers over us like the London fog. Sometimes we make mistakes
out of fear. You must forgive us. Oh, you shouldn't forgive them. You
should press charges. Don't tell me what to do. Okay, I've had
enough of it. I've simply had enough of it. We understand, dear.
Do you? Because I've just ended a shift that started with a pass and ended with
me getting fired. Fired?
I’ve been handed my cards, haven't I? What? Why? What for?
Because someone sabotaged the boilers, tipped
linseed oil into them. Yeah, but why would they think that
that's you? I have a motive. Mr. Kind gave me a
mouthful for standing up to that bastard. Now I've been shot. Please
shot. What's that?
Morphine tartrate. I'm not going to have you jabbing me like a bloody pin cushion.
It will ease your pain. I'll live. And if you do think that I'm just going to hop
on the night bus and say, "Oh, it must be beastly that your
country hates your guts and you're forced to slum it out here in the Walsingham."
Well, think again, ladies. No wonder you're so nervous around the working classes.
You damn well ought to be.
I'll have that morphine, now.
Ow. So, dear Rattle, what do you suggest?
I'll stay here tonight in the royal suite.
There are only two beds. Then I'll have the biggest and I'll have
breakfast in it. I think that's a very modest demand
considering the bullets in the wall. I know the importance of the rules of
hospitality in your country. I've been reading up on them.
That's right, Mr. Book. At home, we are obliged to take in those who need shelter.
During the war, many British officers were parachuted into our territory. None were betrayed.
I'll sleep on the sofa.
Right now which one of you is lending me your toothbrush?
I'll get someone to come and have a look at this.
It's good to see you, Jack.
We lost him. We never really knew him. Of
course, it was impossible to predict how he'd react, but I was hoping for
sympathy? Understanding.
That's just the way it is with some people. They get down on a thing when
they don't know nothing about it. Huckleberry Finn.
Top marks. You can sleep on the left. I like that Eadie. She's sharp.
Sharp as her nibs. The princess.
Busy day tomorrow. Bliss has arrested Guzili.
Oh, it's a mistake. So, I suspect I'll spend
the morning showing him why. Clever clogs.
If the shoe fits. Oh, it's the Dinaric Alps, by the way. Hey,
it's the Dinaric Alps, my love, not the Carpathians.
As I said, clever clogs.
Book.
...
finished with that mag sergeant? Bagged and labelled, sir. We'll return it
in due course. Take a seat.
Are you going to charge me? Oh, there's plenty of time for that.
I've said it all already. It's in my
statement. Oh, just one thing before we start. Uh,
Mr. Book here will be joining us. He's a specialist.
Mr. Guzili, it's very important that you use this interview to tell us the truth.
Cuz if you don't, I can't be held accountable for the consequences.
We know about your affair with Eadie Rattle. She's given us a statement and
in doing so has given us a a possible motive, a reason for you to kill Captain Orr.
because he made a pass at Eadie. It must happen like three times a day.
What business are you in exactly? The antiquarian book business.
I've read the Kanun of Scutari. Have you?
I know it. Live by it. It was very important to my village.
Let's start then. If I said we were going to give you the
third degree, what would you expect? A kicking out by the bins.
Snake in the grass. What did you say?
Forget the third degree. Snake in the grass. Come on. I'm waiting.
Vodka? at last.
Creme de menthe. Lime juice. Uh, lemonade. Where's my ice? It went in first.
Are you shaking this drink? Come on. Come on, Mr. Guzili. This is
the Walsingham . Are you shaking this drink?
I'm stirring it. I'm stirring it. Attaboy.
Attaboy. I know that. French vermouth, dry gin, grenadine, four dashes, shaken.
And what would you put in a Pansy?
Um, anisette?. No, no, no. Mr. Guzili,
look, I'm still on probation. I'm not an expert.
I'd say you're not, but nor are you a murderer.
Well, what what what makes you say that? Because he left a dirty great
fingerprint on the upper part of one of those glasses. And a good cocktail
waiter, as well as knowing how to mix a third degree always handles a rock glass
lower down. You made the drink for the captain, which is when you left your
fingerprint on his glass. But the drink was not deadly. I'm sorry if this sounds
insulting, Mr. Guzili, but you have yet to acquire the skill to poison anyone in
a crowded bar in plain sight, particularly with just a few seconds
between the inciting incident and the crime. But I'm sure you'll get there. In
fact, I'd go so far as to say you were already a model employee.
You're going to write me a reference now, are you?
Why not? How long have the princesses been in the hotel?
Four days. And you'd already noticed they always reject the first drink, so you
made it out of tap water. Yes. Some employers would promote a
member of staff so concerned about wastage.
Well, Mr. Guzili, seems like you can uh go and collect
your things. Yeah. Uh our friend here is, uh, checking out, Sergeant Morris.
Very good, sir.
Well, now what? Anyone could have got that hydrochloric
acid into the drink. And Guzili was too clumsy to have done
it. As I discovered late last night, the.
Kanun of Scutari has very strict rules about hospitality. It's taboo to harm
anyone you consider your guest. Captain Orr was Guzili’s guest, strictly speaking,
and the Kanun is very strict. Did it Did it tell you anything else
useful? Oh, yes. Insult my wife in front of the
headman of the village and you owe me a sheep. If my wife insults you, I owe you
five.
Well, I find it's usually best if just people are just nice to each other.
You were not in the army, were you? You know where I was.
Well, no matter. Straighten your spine, perhaps.
At the palace, a line of soldiers would salute us just on our way into breakfast.
Oh, look at you: how the mighty have fallen. And back then, we weren't always looking
over our shoulders. We were at home with our own people.
You boy, you must fetch the inspector. Why? What's happened?
Another threatening letter.
They got you. No. No.
Well, you've done all right. They ordered in. No less than I deserve.
Sure enough. Balkan mix apparently. Nice.
See those little gold rings at the end there?
I'm a Capstan man myself. Weren't you supposed to bring me for
that Bovril? Well, I thought you had everything you
needed here.
It's a bit rich for my blood.
So, where was Miss Eadie Rattle when the murder took place?
Uh, having a Woodbine outside according to a statement. Having already
administered the poison meant for the princesses.
According to my intelligence sources, she's a fully paid up party member.
Communist? Red as Lenin's combinations.
What? So, she might have wanted them dead
on behalf of the new ruling class of Scutari.
Then there's the other sister, of course.
Other sister? Oh, yes. There are three of them,
Inspector. Three sisters.
The kingdom divided, exiled monarchs, I wonder.
Anyway, Princess Senije went over to the other side.
So, it could be her striking the blow for the workers by assassinating the siblings.
This is where we should be looking in my opinion. Shop.
Yes. He liked the ladies, didn't he, Captain Orr?
It's not how I would have put it. Still
at least we have his home number now. No.
Yes. This must be his wife. Sylvia. How d’you know?
She's the only one without a star rating.
Yeah. Well, there's another familiar name in there, too.
Oh, as you say, sir. Oh,
M. Barbarini. 2nd of May 1940. Ascot race course. Four stars, passionate
Italians, crossed out, but still legible.
What do you mean? Obvious, isn't it? Captain Orr didn’t just
like the ladies. He was a bit queer. What you mean?
He traveled, as it were, on the 38 bus and the 43. He met that Italian barman
at the races and had relations. It's all there in black and white.
Met at the races. Eh, Ascot racecourse. There is entry after
entry. What motive?
Blackmail. Obviously, Captain Orr threatened to expose Barbarini.
Captain Orr's a married man. It's all a bit It's a bit farfetched.
You never know with married men, sir. What's your great theory then?
That would be telling, Sergeant. But speaking of Mrs. Orr, I do think
someone should talk to her soon. I'll ask Trottie if I may.
Wives always know. Whatever husbands think. Message from
that lad, Jack. Sir, princesses are requesting another audience.
A Winston Churchill mask. No.
An Ora flying helmet. A piccalilli jar filled entirely with toenail clippings.
Oh yeah. It's not for the faint of heart.
The life of a chambermaid, but my dad ran a pub in Bala, so
I've seen it all. And what about the murder?
I know. I was outside. You see, you can't pin Victor Orr on me.
I wasn't trying to. Honest. Pity I wasn't there, though.
I would have liked to see that one go down.
So, you were saying, you got out of the clink and then you went to work in a
bookshop. Yeah.
For Mr. Book. Yeah.
And now you're working for the Scutari royal family.
Not for much longer, I don't reckon. I ain't much cop as a bodyguard.
Got anything by Marx? Hey,
in your bookshop, Das Kapital,
volume four. Now you're talking.
So, why'd you leave? I just don't think they're my sort of
people. No.
Takes all sorts, you know. As I say, the things I've seen in the Walsingham .
Maybe it's time you expanded your horizons a bit, sunshine.
Let me know if you fancy that Bovril sometime. Yeah?
so-called princesses. My gorge rises as I see you in the
newspaper. Your decadent bones draped in Madame Debavier,
which will soon drip with your filthy blood. Yes, I can see why you might feel
discomforted. So, what will you do about it,
my dear lady? You will address me by my proper title.
Uh, do forgive the inspector, your royal highness. The policeman is often a blunt
tool rather than a diplomat. Perhaps I might.
As I have said, this is the latest of many, dripping with venom. Our enemies,
their legion. Can they not let us rest? Is it not enough that we are forced to
drag our weary bones around the world like phantoms? You speak of the Kanun,
of hospitality. But what are we to make of yours? What
welcome do we receive in your famous London? Wretched food, wretched cold, a
bodyguard who fails to guard. And now this.
I'll do what I can given my limited resources.
...
Yes, of course. And we're terribly sorry.
Well, if that's the best you can do.
Oh, Miss Rattle. Yes, Mr. Kind.
I heard about the unfortunate incident. That's one way of describing it. I'm
okay, but I think I might indulge myself a bit more in the cream of society. As
I've been fired, I can use the hotel as a guest instead.
Meaning? their royal highnesses. I'm to put
everything in their account. Well, don't spend too much.
What? Nothing. Um, Mr. Rattle.
Yes. Would you kindly come and see me after
you've indulged yourself? Okay, Mr. Kind.
Eadie, can we talk?
I do want to apologise for the quality of the service today. The heating is
off. The menu is cold. I'm deeply sorry,
Ismael. None of that is your fault. Yeah, I'm afraid it is. It was caused by
the three bottles of linseed oil that I stole from your cupboard.
But linseed oil is for polishing. I use it for my newel posts and my dados.
Yes, I know. But I poured it into the generator. I didn't poison Victor Orr, Eadie,
but I did poison the hotel. I was so angry with myself, with with
that man, with this place. So, I just thought I kill it.
I'm deeply sorry. I shall confess everything to Mr. Kind.
And you will not lose your job, Eadie.
Hah!
You? Me.
This isn't easy for me, as I'm sure you can imagine. Of course, you've just lost
your husband. That boat sailed a long time ago, Mrs. Book and you're not the
first of Victor's conquests to telephone.
If it makes it any easier, he didn't. Did what?
Conquer.
I used to come here all the time, you know,
to watch him with the latest model.
Madam,
you've read it? To see oneself here assessed like
livestock. Do you think he got what he deserved?
Well, not quite, but uh I mean, what a pig he was.
Do you know, I'd think better of him if it was a real diary? Something with a
bit of proper adulterous passion.
Don't worry, my dear. I don't really blame you. I mean, Victor had charm to
spare, in his day. And I grew used to his adventures.
Numb to them. So used to them, it became a sort of
hobby. That sound strange?
My marriage grew cold and my life grew cold.
I don't really think I felt anything since Dunkirk.
So, I'd come here where there was light and laughter
usually. Did you not worry that he, uh, might see
you?
Victor hadn't noticed me in years. There was no reason to think he'd start now.
Is that how you were able to..?
What? The poison.
I mean, you were there. You You handed me that cloth. It would have been easy
for you to administer it. I didn't kill my husband, Mrs. Book.
I pitied Victor. I didn't despise him. Then who did?
How was his war? He did his service in Caro and a stint
in the Balkans. The Balkans.
And before that, he was here. The home front.
Whereabouts? Ascot.
Ah, it is you. Would it be..? What does that say?
Death to parasites.
Thank you for coming. Everything's off. Kippers, kidneys,
kedgeree, and the radiators. They're definitely off. Oh,
there's a selection of cold meat. Splendid. Well, two of those then,
please. Waiter, do make sure they're properly cold. I abhor
Inconsistency. Sir,
the service it is appalling. Well, call me Marie Antoinette, but I was expecting
the lavatories to flush. Still, the heating did come on for half an hour.
That was nice. You said it was urgent, Mr. Book.
In a way, yes. Are you any closer?
Closer to finding out who tried to murder us.
No one tried to murder you. But the letters, the threats.
You sent those.
What? You're mad. How dare you? Do sit down,
princess. The very idea that I
I said sit down. I may be more of a diplomat than the
inspector. But there's only so much of this exhausting hauteur I can stand.
When did you start sending the letters? Not right away. I
imagine for a while it was real.
When we fled our country, there were eyes everywhere. We feared to eat or
drink. We lived day by day, shoved into stinking cellars, the holds of filthy
ships. But the threat was real, Mr. Book. In
New York, we were feted. They love royalty there, as you know, precisely
because they have none of their own. We were invited to all the right parties,
met all the right people. But there is nothing more tragic than
exile, Mr. Book. And nothing more pathetic.
After a time, the invitations dried up, the parade moved on, and I realised that
we had gone from being in danger to something far, far worse.
We had become irrelevant.
What did the newly risen Scutari have to fear from us? Why would they send
assassins halfway across the globe to make away with us? Why would anyone
bother? But there is glamour in death, in
danger. And, so, I began to write all those
letters both to us and to the authorities of whichever poor nation we
were imposing ourselves upon. I pay a woman here a modest fee to skulk around
the hotel, dropping them off now and then.
Some suspected your other sister might be behind those.
She's dead, Mr. Book. I saw her shot in the face.
The communists never really trusted her.
And I will not lose another sister.
But then there was an actual poisoning. I didn't know what to think. Nafije
swapped the glasses as always. And then that man, that captain lying dead at our
feet. My mind, it raced. Had it all become real?
But what else could I do but continue as planned?
It was very well done. Thank you.
At last though, the impression of your sister's pen nibs is very distinctive.
Indeed. Music nib. Narrow down strokes, broad
cross strokes for writing musical notation.
And she's composing those rather sad and lovely little tunes of hers and the
references to your wardrobe, too. Rather specific for a desperate communist
assassin? I couldn't help myself.
So, does this mean then that… Captain Orr was the intended victim?
So, I have to ask, Mr. Book in the spirit of your British stories.
Whodunnit? Well, that is the question, dear lady.
Sir.
Not normally a fan of this sort of thing, redolent of the kind of thriller
one finds in W. H. Smith. However, sometimes it really is best to
gather everyone together. Unity of place, and all that. So, on the night of the
murder, Mr. Guzili here set up a first round of two drinks.
Yes. Which is rejected by the princesses and goes down the sink. Now we come to
the brouhaha and a new character enters our drama. Captain Victor Orr, kindly
represented here by Mr. Kind. In you come, Miss Rattle, tell us what happened
next. Well, there's Captain Watsit soaked in
Taittinger, and he's telling me he has some extra duties for me, which seem to
involve me going to his room and leaving with some money. So I decline, of
course, and I'm looking over at Ismail. I'm looking at him because, well, I
think he might help me out. Do the decent.
And he doesn't. What happens next, Eadie?
Well, I'm thinking, is the captain going to hit me? So, I tell him where to
get off and then he says something. I don't know, some threat or other. I
wasn't listening. And that's when Jack here came to my rescue.
Then I went outside for a smoke. Thank you, Miss Rattle. So, Mr. Guzili then
sets up two more glasses for a new round. Four Walsingham sours in total.
Three good ones and one, as we shall see, about to have an extra ingredient.
But when precisely did one of these drinks get a dash of hydrochloric acid?
Princess Nefije, you tell us that you switched two of these glasses around.
Which two? Like this, Mr. Book. One of ours for one
of theirs. Very good. But you're not drinking yet,
are you? Because you want to see someone else drink first, which is only prudent,
only sensible when there are so many assassins about. So, you have to wait a
little while longer until the distraction is over.
And this is the Russian roulette moment, now, is it?
This was not a casual murder. It was very carefully thought through. Now, we
know the poison was not in Mr. Guzili’s shaker. We know the Princess Nefije
deserves no reproaches. All your royal highness did was switch one perfectly
safe and effective Walsingham for another. In fact, I would suggest that
none of these drinks would have produced anything worse than a hangover until the incident with the coins.
That was the moment of opportunity for someone here
to poison one of these cocktails. The one that he was clearly about to be picked up.
Yes, there was no mistake. Captain Orr had to die. Why, though?
Do you remember the Arandora Star? Not our finest hour. I fear
she was torpedoed by the Jerry. At the start the war.
July 2nd, 1940. There was a set-to on board, wasn't
there? A lot of internees being sent to Australia.
Canada. Canada. Fighting amongst themselves.
Well, that's what it said in the Daily Express.
In Parliament, too, Mr. Book doesn't mean it's true. Indeed.
And amongst the passengers,
your sister, Maria,
Barbarini, M. 12th January 1940, Ascot racecourse.
16th of January, Ascot racecourse 19. So it was her captain all met at the races.
Well, there was no racing during the war.
Quite of course ascots where they put
the regulation 18b lot, wasn't it? English Nazis, German anti-Nazis, ice
cream men, spaghetti house vendors, waiters who'd once said something
vaguely complimentary about the cut of Il Duce's jib. All put under barbed wire
an internment camp. What was the case against the
Barbarinis, though? My parents were born in Italy.
So someone here claimed I was a fascist, marched me out during service, sent up north.
Nobody protested, particularly the man who ran the bar
here in the Blitz. And your sister?
In 1938, my father said, "Why not spend the summer with your Italian aunt, go to"
a beach with them, to the Campo Solare, build fires, get some fresh air.
They give you a nice little uniform like the girl guides but Mussolini's girl guides.
Ah, so she brought the uniform home as a souvenir.
It was enough for the men from 18b. There it was in a wardrobe. So off she
went to escort. She was in turn because of the uniform.
People do take them terribly seriously. Well, it worked for Victor. When he was
in his sailor suit, people did what he said. I mean, it was charm as well as
rank. Rank. Charm. That's how he got Maria's name on the
list for Canada. Perhaps it should be generous. Imagine
he was getting her out of the camp to a new life away from the war.
He just wanted a troublesome lover out the way before his wife found out.
That ship was a death trap. I dream about that.
Those people pushing at the barricades, the great wooden axes wrapped in barbed
wire and then the sea coming in and drowning
them both. Both
Maria and the baby. His baby.
I knew his name, that was all, but I couldn't find him. The Mess of the war had
turned everything upside down. No one was in a great hurry to help out an
insignificant wop waiter. Turned out I'd been serving him Walsingham .
Sours for months. Victor Orr, my old friend. I I can't leave
you alone for 5 minutes, can I? Who the bloody hell can't take a joke?
Let's have a couple of those. What do you call them?
Walsingham Sours. For the two ladies.
Heh, for their royal highnesses, you mean. These are on me, ladies? The man who took away
my precious Maria, my beloved sister.
So I did what had to be done. I prepared ice. Special ice.
Oh. Oh dear. So embarrassing. I do apologise.
Not at all. Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.
What?
It was her birthday. See, Maria's birthday would have been.
It seemed, uh, it seemed fitting. Yes. Yes, it must have done.
And I took the precaution of keeping some of the poisoned ice.
Tinkety-tonk. Wait, no.
Just ordinary ice. Alas, I'm afraid I swapped it.
I'm so very, very sorry about your sister, Signiore Babarini.
But murder is murder.
Marco Barbarini, I'm arresting you on a charge of murder. You do not have to say
anything, but anything you do say may be taken down and used against you in a
court of law. Do you have anything to say?
Oh, by the way, Mr. Kind, the linseed oil in the generators.
That was me too. Sorry.
I got that. Mr. Kind, you wanted a word?
Oh, yes, Miss Rattle. I was thinking about your position here.
Well, now I know that you were not responsible for the incident with the
generators. Yes.
Well, your dismissal was unnecessarily expeditious.
Yes. Yes. And I wanted to say I would very
much like to offer that position back to you.
Well, I accept. That's all very satisfactory.
There's a ledger here, isn't there? A ledger?
One with all the comings and goings of the staff. Might I see my entry? It's
over there. Yes, of course.
Thank you.
There I am. Edith Rattle. Reason for leaving?
Sabotage. Well, better strike that from the record.
Thank you, Mr. Kind. Now, Mr. Kind, I resign.
You resign? Yes, I resign. Would you mind putting
that in there for me? You can't resign. I believe I just did.
Up the workers.
All this is quite correct. Two more please
for those people.
Oh, missing the war, are you? I don't know what the etiquette is.
Ooh, I think that's the royal summons. Well,
for you, Mr. Book. For the book. Oh, thank you.
What's that for? 100 guineas.
No, I mean, what's it for? Oh, our copy of the Kanun of Scutari. In our trade, it
pays to specialise. It'll bounce.
Well, if it doesn't, I shall give it to the Arandora Star Memorial Fund.
Please enjoy. Thank you. What should we drink to?
To us. To the Barbarinis?
Yes. To Marco and Maria and
all the Barbarinis. The lost and the defeated.
All the Barbarinis. Those who bear the name and those who do not.
And let there be no more drownings.
He got me the job. Mr. Book,
he arranged for you to take me on. The princesses were looking for a
bodyguard. Gabriel asked if I could help. So, you see, he was looking out
for you, despite your falling out. You know him well.
We go a long way back.
Looking out for me or manipulating me. Now,
why would you think of it like that? He sought me out. Found me when I come out
of prison, set me up. Nice job, nice home.
Yes. Why?
You'd have to ask him that. I ain’t a monster. Mr. Kind. I'm grateful.
Of course I am. It's just It's a lot. You know, they're set up.
The way they are, Mr. and Mrs. Book the way he is.
It's hard for me to just accept it. You have a moral objection?
Me? Why do I have to moralise?
I think you've answered your own question. Book is kind.
I mean, I know I'm kind. Edmund Kind. But I once knew a girl called Joy and
she was anything but. There's no sinister motive, Jack. They
want to help. Why don't you let them?
With you in just one moment. Hello again.
Oh, Mrs. Goodwin. Jean.
Jean. After more of the same? the Pimpernel?
I'm not really sure. I I think I fancy something a little different.
Your husband not with you? No.
The golf course? No. The Garrick?
The divorce courts. Oh.
Oh. That play you gave me, ‘A Doll's House’.
Most illuminating. Like you suggested, it rather made me think.
Yes, I thought it might do. Made me realise how narrow my horizons
had become. Or other how narrow Gerald had made my horizons.
Love doesn't always last forever, alas. Never loved him. Awful man.
But that's all in the past now, or in the hands of my solicitor, anyway.
So what can I do for you then, Jean? What have you got on travel?
Travel? Lots of it. Heaps of it. Exotic travel.
I think it's time I saw a bit of the world.
I've got just the thing…
With you in just one moment, sir.
Thanks.
I'll let you run on it. Without tea, I am
unreconstituted dust.
It's hard to let go of the past, Mr. Book, when you have so many questions
about it. Such as. Well, if it wasn't for you and Trottie, I'd
be, well, I'd be sleeping on the Embankment
but now I have a position if it's still available.. The royal
highnesses let you go..? I quit. Good for you. Yes, the job's still yours.
So, I've got a position. Cozy little room above a bookshop on
Archangel Lane. I'm thinking,
why me?
Your father gave me this. The last time I saw him, 1935,
the last time? He died
soon after
I couldn't face looking at this book, not for years.
And then the war came and I was busy, rather busy.
It's only a few months ago that I picked it up again. Dared to pick it up. And I
found there was a little more to it than I thought.
What you mean?
Oh, somewhere meek unconscious dove that sitteth ranging golden hair
and glad to find thyself so fair. Poor child
that waitest for thy love. He's trying to tell me, you see, about
you, about the son I never knew he had.
Must have been taken around when you were conceived.
Felix.
Felix?
I never had his name. Just that…
just that one picture.
Your father was a German.
German? Prussian,
in point of fact.
And what was he to you, Mr. Book? What was Felix to me?
He was everything, Jack.
He was what the war took away.
He was the whole damn world.
How did he die?
I don't know.
Shall we find out?
...