Miss Marple: The Moving Finger

Excuse me!

Sorry to bother you. We're trying to find The Furze.

The Furze.

Good heavens! Could you be Ms. Barton's new tenants?

Right. - How exciting!

Gerry Burton. My sister, Joanna.

Well, I never. Maud Calthrop.

My husband's Vicar here.

He'll be expecting to see you in church on Sunday.

Everyone will. They're all dying to meet you.

Lord. Suppose we disappoint them?

I'm quite sure you won't.

Now, let me tell you.

The Furze, straight through the village,

about half a mile, turn left and there you are.

How very nice to see you both!

And welcome to The Furze.

Thank you. - Thanks.

Beatrice!

- Thank you very much. - Shall I?

Come along, girl! Go get them bags out of the car.

I do hope you'll both be happy here. I'm so fond of it.

Well, after all, I've lived here all my life.

You get used to things, don't you?

Dear! I can't help feeling we're driving you out.

But you mustn't! It's the war, taxation.

The cost of everything nowadays. The upkeep.

I simply had to do something.

Besides, it won't be forever.

Now, Partridge is staying on to look after you.

She's a cook, housekeeper and a treasure.

And then, there's Beatrice. She's the maid and all that.

Not very experienced, but willing.

A gardener, Cleat, who comes in twice a week,

has a strange wife, but you don't need to see much of her.

Do forgive me, Mr. Burton, but were you hurt during the war?

No, no. Not a scratch actually, no.

That was a test flight for a new jet.

Both engines blew at 30,000.

Then the ejector gear malfunctioned.

I managed to bring her down all right,

but I hit the deck pretty hard.

Pretty lucky, I suppose.

Yes, I... I see.

He's trying to tell you, Ms. Barton,

that he crashed his plane.

Good heavens! I'm sorry.

You'll have to let Owen Griffith, our nice doctor, take care of you.

I believe the hospital has already been in touch with him.

Good. He's Welsh, of course.

But the Welsh are so clever, aren't they?

And Partridge is an excellent cook.

She'll help you build up your strength.

No, no. Never in this house.

I'm sorry.

No. You mustn't be.

It's just that...

Well, smoking never occurred to me.

Don't worry. I'll see he has lots of ashtrays.

It's so silly of me.

It all comes of never having a man about the place.

The last one was my eldest sister's beau

and he didn't last long.

Mother took exception. - To his smoking?

To his accent.

"Wasn't quite a gentleman," she said.

I thought he was rather nice. Jolly.

Dephne fretted, but, as Mother told her,

you never know with men.

Know what, Ms. Barton?

Another cup of tea, my dear?

Thanks so much.

Mr. Burton, do forgive me if I don't offer you something stronger.

Men prefer that, don't they?

I remember my father did,

but Mother took exception to that, too.

Didn't approve, wouldn't allow it in the house.

Poor Father.

And poor Mother.

But she was an invalid, you see.

She always managed to have her own way.

The peace of God be with you

and remain with you always.

Amen. - Amen.

Good morning. Mr. and Mrs. Cleat.

I'm glad you could make it this time.

Vicar, what a simply splendid sermon! Did Maud choose the text?

She must have. - She did not.

St. Paul, wasn't it, "Let brotherly love continue"?

Had... Had you our newcomers in mind?

Indeed. Should you encourage it?

Not sure I know what you're getting at.

Paul goes on to say, doesn't he,

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers,

"for thereby some have entertained angels unawares?"

How delicious!

Somewhat mutilated, the male angel, perhaps.

But the girl, she's quite a sensation, wouldn't you say?

I trust not.!

Guy, I don't think you've met Squadron Leader Burton,

and his sister, have you?

No, delighted to see you here.

Thank you, Padre. - Thank you.

This is a near neighbor of yours, Mr. Pye.

Never believe a word he tells you.

He spends his whole time laughing at the rest of us.

Dear lady, how unfair, unkind, untrue.

Despite the malicious Maud,

you'll come and take a sherry with me at Priory Lodge, won't you?

We'd love to.

Look at her makin' up to that old Mr. Pye!

Yeah, painted up to the eyeballs, too.

And in church.

And soon. Promise?

Promise.

Dear.

Symmington brood cometh. I must away.

Squadron Leader, you're on parade. - Right.

Ms. Burton, you are an event!

Sleepy, old Lymston's going to love you!

Bye-bye. Bye. - Bye.

Now, boys, run ahead with Elsie, will you? We shan't be long.

Here, off we go, then.

Elsie, Elsie, I'm terribly hungry.

You're just greedy.

Elsie, my shoelace.

Maud, you said absolutely nothing about my sermon.

Does that mean you have no complaints?

Much better, dear, and still a trifle long, perhaps.

I didn't see anyone asleep.

You're wearing the wrong specs, Guy.

Your reading glasses. - But they're so stiff.

Come on, Robert.

Dozing, I fear, many of them.

- Come on. - Good heavens!

Let's go and have some lunch. Shall we?

See you lunchtime.

Megan!

Just look at that girl's stockings.

A large potato in each heel.

What a graceless child.

Yes, Guy, the sermon was wonderful,

but still a little long winded.

- Good morning. - Mr. Symmington!

How nice to see you again.

And Mrs. Symmington? - How do you do?

Gerry, Mr. Symmington is Ms. Barton's solicitor.

How do you do? - How do you do?

And there's still something Gerry has to sign, isn't there?

There's no hurry.

Next time you're in the High Street, just drop in.

Right. I will do.

Edward, we'd better be moving.

The boys will be starving.

Righty-ho.

Well, it's nice to have you both here.

See you again, soon. Guy, Maud.

Edward.

Gerry.

You know something?

I have a feeling that Lymston's doing you a power of good.

That was supposed to be the general idea, wasn't it?

It was.

So?

Well, remembering all those pretty nurses at the hospital

who fussed and fretted

and soothed your fevered brow for months on end

and to what purpose?

Well, apart from their job had they a purpose?

Whatever. You remained totally indifferent.

But 10 days in Lymston and, um...

What the hell are you talking about?

Church last Sunday.

The Symmingtons' nurse governess.

Don't think I didn't notice.

You're getting better, my darling brother.

You do talk the most awful rubbish.

Mind you, the talent isn't exactly thick on the ground.

And say, I had to choose between her and Partridge.

Thank you very much.

Had you thought about lunch, Miss?

Gosh, I hadn't.

You think about it for me, will you, Partridge?

Well, if that's what you want, Miss.

There. They'll cheer you up, letters from abandoned lovers.

Two of them are bills, Gerry.

Well, can't win 'em all.

What the devil's this? - You tell me.

My God!

It's one of those...

What are they called... Poison pen letters!

It's filthy, absolutely disgusting!

No! Do let's see!

No, no, Jo. I'm not sure you'd want to.

But I do! Please.

All right.

Are they always like this?

Well, how in hell should I know?

Well, what shall we do?

Simple.