The Sixth Secret

A lion?

in England?

This is Justice.

What?

The name of a lion. "Justice".

It was in the evening papers, sir.

Escaped from the zoo in the morning.

"Justice".

I wonder if these poor souls would agree...

Isn't it

one of life's cruel...

senseless...

of unsolvable mysteries.

THE SIXTH SECRET

Mart Sander's film

I'll take one then.

One? I think it's the third one.

What do you wonder if we are kept waiting here like this?

Look what time it is!

Madame never appears before midnight.

That's right, gracious.

Do not know why? Waiting for your pumpkin?

He says the doors to the afterlife open at midnight.

As long as the doors of the bar cabinet are open

I'm not complaining.

Don't be vulgar. This here is a shrine.

Would there be a fire?

Excuse me, gracious: a committed non-smoker!

As did young Mr. Bonpree.

Nobody here has matches!

It seems like a pretty bad cold.

I'm already waiting to get back to the club.

So why did you come at all?

Oh no, don't even try!

I know how these spiritualists work.

They send their spies to investigate. - How lame!

Forgive, O Merciful One! Edwin, please behave yourself.

And the same goes for you!

Spying around here like a shadow.

You don't have to worry about Jenkins.

He is deaf like Beethoven.

Are you kidding me?

Deaf butler?

Maybe the blind chef is also included in the set?

And anyway, why shouldn't the gracious lady know why you're here?

He would have to be a level spy to know the answer!

Answer to what?

To the question:

what is the code

The code? - Safe code.

What is it all about?

Edwin inherited his father's industrial empire,

but some necessary papers are in the safe which we cannot open.

Can't get rid of it somehow?

Can not. - As a family lawyer, I would not recommend it.

The safe has a special mechanism

- if you try to open it by force, the acid canister inside breaks

and destroys all content.

Heaven. There must be some dirty secrets.

Just look, and that's all you'll ever know!

It's more than I wanted to know.

By the way, I wanted to ask:

Who is that doll?

No idea.

American as far as I know.

Someone Miss Daisy.

I loathe Americans. So lame.

I wouldn't want to disappoint you, my love.

but I'm one of the "kids" myself.

American? - Just like that.

Well... At least you hide it well.

As the old saying goes - "When in Rome..."

And when you're in London!

Spot on.

London will soon be flooded with Americans.

And that lady - Miss Mills, isn't she?

He should be American too.

He may be American, of course, but

LADY... He is Madame Orlofsky's secretary.

Hot piece..! - Miss Mills?!

No no, that Miss Daisy.

It will soon belong to me.

Even I can predict that much.

Oh that you can.

Yes! Look!

I see, I see...

Red - I will be his lover.

Black - he will be mine.

So what is zero?

Zero is marriage. So very little risk.

Tell me when!

You're welcome!

Next time you can consult me ​​immediately.

Let's go and sit at the table.

Oh, but you can't. Not yet.

Why not? It's almost midnight.

Madame insists that all twelve seats be filled.

And now there are only four of us.

What are these things?

You will see.

What was that thing?

Door bell. For the deaf.

Don't mark.

So the waiter is really deaf?

Like a pack of oak.

Why don't we get ourselves some working specimens?

Jenkins is almost like furniture.

There are probably other reasons here.

Otherwise, it seems to be in excellent working order.

I hope there are busloads of American tourists

At least we could come to an agreement.

Lord. What are they?

Honest working people, I offer.

Don't they know how to use the servants' door?

But, gracious lady!

More Christian charity!

Madame Orlofsky could accept the lower classes on weekdays.

They definitely have all their pockets full of matches.

Merciful prova.

Fine people present and rest.

We're not all equal when it comes to worry, right?

I immediately feel a close connection between us, I really do!

Let's go, honey.

Let's not make a spectacle here.

I was afraid I was going to scream!

Fortunately, you endured. Like a real soldier.

Check them out.

Whatever trivial tragedy has befallen their insignificant lives,

now we all have to be a part of it.

Generosity. What next?

More factory workers and laundresses?

This is where the fun can start.

Brandy, fast. I'm stiff with cold.

Man, don't stare like that, take my coat!

What's wrong with you?

And bring that brand!

Are you deaf?!

Indeed he is, my lord.

Deaf doorman? Damn it.

Such a reception after two hours of being blown away in a passport storm.

Please..! - I don't talk through flowers, madam.

Would you like a fire?

No! Whatever. You can't stay here.

What?! - This is a private gathering

Go away. Mister Arnheim, tell him!

Look, my lord, things are like this... - Wait, wait!

Try it though!

I guarantee you a jaw-dropper!

And you are... - This is my business and no one else's.

I'm only interested in card placement. - Session!

Good or bad, sister, the main thing is that I get answers.

One moment.

I need my coat back for a while. I left something important in my pocket.

Oh shit, you're deaf. In other words:

my coat! Need! Bring - my - coat - back!

Understand? My - coat - back!

We have a problem, sir.

It seems so.

I'm working on it.

You asked for brandy, sir. - You heard that right, girl.

Not like this one here...

I am Madame Orlofsky's secretary.

Look, our servant...

I already know. Deaf as a stump spider.

But the thing is, sir, we have no vacancies today.

By invitation only. - There are no free seats?

Is this some sort of Savoy hotel?

There was not a word about it in the "Times"!

In the Times? But madame hasn't advertised there for months...

Months, years - whose business?

Is this hole still working?

See, it clearly says, "Sessions every midnight".

You have... at least a dozen places here?

I rushed here from London now!

Damn it, if I were to drive back here empty-handed!

Look, my lord...

Don't bother me, man!

You're talking to a middleweight boxing champion!

I wanted to say that of course you can join us.

Miss Mills, please take care of Mr.'s coat.

Hell, man, you'd need some brandy too.

Everything is all right.

Well, imagine the picture.

But look.

Renaissance tapestries.

Rönich grand piano.

Doesn't look much like a gypsy tent.

But Madame Orlofsky is not a gypsy.

He is a Russian aristocrat.

Like all of them.

I can assure you -

Madame Orlofsky is completely trusted by the best company.

And who says you are not on

his payroll to preach like that?

Well...!

But, wait, wait. I've done things with venkus.

Would she be Russian, wouldn't she be "Orlofskaya" or something?

Your coat, sir.

Wait wait. Haven't I seen you anywhere before?

I don't think so, sir.