Father Brown

Ladies and gentlemen, Reverend Father, parents, guests and boys,

welcome to Kemble Martyrs' end-of-term fete.

I hope you are liberally partaking of the refreshments on offer.

Now, as you know, the school has a great tradition of producing

young men of note, honour and character.

Hear, hear!

Qualities which I know

will be on display today in all our young charges,

be they serving refreshments, competing,

or exhibiting dazzling displays of cricket.

And which will continue long after my imminent retirement.

Epitomised by the school motto - Tantum optimum satis!

Tantum optimum satis!

"Only your best will do."

And, on that note, let the games begin!

I'm sure the headmaster's grandson will shine.

According to Minnie Robins, he's a rising star in all things athletic.

Damned cat's in again. No business in my school.

Get someone to shoo it off. Of course, Headmaster.

Oh, look! An egg-and-spoon race. If you're game, Father...?

I'd be delighted to cheer you on.

But I think Mrs McCarthy may give you a run for your money.

I'll have you know I was a champion egg-and-spooner in my day.

Oh, really? In what century?

Ah!

Ah. Oh, sorry, Father. Did you want one?

Well, the meek will inherit the Earth,

so I suppose a macaroon on top is a bit much to ask.

How about one macaroon... and a handshake

in exchange for your discretion?

Ah. As long as the discretion works both ways.

And now, a classic off-drive.

Very good form, though!

Let's have one of your sweep shots please, Daniel.

Come on, bails on. Quick as you can.

Afternoon.

Some fur in my macaroon.

A sweep shot, ladies and gentlemen.

Bad luck.

Every batsman has an off day.

And a classic leg glance, please!

Well, that concludes the cricket demonstration.

Bad luck, Daniel.

Next up, the visitors' egg-and-spoon race.

A little more elbow room, if you don't mind.

You're trying to knock my egg off my spoon.

If you can't handle the heat, Mrs M, then get back to the kitchen. Oh!

Ready... Go!

Come on Mrs... Bunty!

Come on!

Mrs McCarthy adopted her superior gliding technique.

Deputy Headmaster, what are you doing here away from all the fun?

Chasing the infernal cat that keeps getting in from YOUR school, Deputy Headmistress.

No wonder you look hot and bothered.

Sheila...

Darling, why not talk to Sefton about the headship today?

It's perfect timing, if we want to start planning for a date.

And other little things.

It's hardly the time or place. Seize the day!

No... Sheila. No!

Father, what happened?

Come on, ladies and gents, let's clear a path, please.

Padre, how unusual to find you sniffing around a catastrophe.

I suppose you found the body?

Heavens preserve us, you're not actually saying that...

No. A serious head wound, but she's still breathing.

I found her, in the boiler room. Philip Hart, deputy headmaster.

And what were you doing in there?

Looking for a stray cat.

A cat? So, who is this girl?

I've certainly never seen her before. Sefton Scott, headmaster.

Inspector Mallory.

The girl's not from any boy's family.

"The girl" is May Lewis. And you are?

Sheila Barnett, deputy head of St Saviour's, next door.

May is one of our young ladies.

Who should never have been here in the first place!

Typical St Saviour's laxity. Laxity?

I suspect a simple accident.

Trespassing, Miss Lewis probably bashed her head on a pipe.

Inspector, I noticed a distinct scent in Miss Lewis' hair.

A smelly pipe, then. Thank you, Padre.

We'll get to the bottom of it once the area has been cleared.

Right you are, Sir. Ladies and gents, please.

She's in good hands.

Erm... How do you suppose she got here?

I don't know. She can be...

..wilful. Bit of a free spirit.

But she could have just been after the cat.

It's not the first time it's caused friction between the schools.

Do you think her room may provide a clue?

Yes.

But as St Saviour's is a school for young ladies,

no men are allowed in the dormitories.

Yes, of course

She said "young".

And she said "ladies".

Both ideally qualified.

Th-that's not yours.

No, it isn't.

But how do you know whose it is?

Thank you.

Oh, what beautiful gardens!

Oh! Passiflora caerulea, I think.

Passion flower, yes. Lovely.

Oh... If you'll excuse me, I must update the head.

The girls'll point you to May's room.

Oh, come on, Mrs M, do keep up.

Or do I have to commandeer a wheelbarrow for you?

I doubt very much you'd know how to handle a wheelbarrow.

C-can't you r-read?

I was just admiring the flowers.

Why the gloomy face? It was only a silly race.

It's just there's barely anything personal here.

Poor girl. Stuck in a cold little room.

Passion In Paris.

Well, it looks like she found ways to liven things up.

Yes. Well, there's not much else to do when you're dumped in a place like this.

Until you're kicked out and dumped in another one.

Yes, well, I suppose we've all had our schoolgirl indiscretions.

Not you, surely, Mrs M?

Oh, yes, yes - even me.

What are you doing in there?

I am searching.

Have you found Narnia yet?

No, I have not found Narnia yet.

But I have found this.

A diary! Top marks, Mrs M!

What does this mean, do you think?

No, no, apparently the girl just wandered in.

Nothing to do with the running of the school, I assure you.

Now, boys, say goodbye and then help Mr Hart tidy up.

Father Brown. No pressing parish duties?

None more pressing than the serious injury of a young girl, no.

No, of course.

But, with your reputation, I would prefer not to cause

unnecessary alarm over a tragic accident.

I think she was attacked. By whom?

I'm not sure. But she was gathering snacks for two,

so she was meeting someone.

A Martyrs paramour, perhaps?

No, no, Father, you're mistaken.

Perhaps St Saviour's are happy to let their charges run around unsupervised...

We most certainly are not!

And we've had boys over our walls, too.

Not to mention all the stray cricket balls.

Father, we found something. May's secret diary.

We encourage our charges to behave as young ladies.

Guidance, apparently, they ignore. Absences here... Really!

It's a pattern of dots that repeats.

Every 28 days.

The lunar cycle, perhaps?

A cycle, yes. But this pattern is two weeks late, meaning...

May is probably...

- Pregnant. - Ah.

So, who do you think the father is, Father?

And what on Earth are we doing rummaging through cricketing... whatnots?

Linseed oil.

Freshly applied.

These stains are fresher still.

I'll take that, thank you, Padre.

The weapon used in the attack, I'd wager.

You thought it was an accident.

I just go where the evidence leads.

And it just so happens to have led me to "DG."

Daniel Gates.

The moral values we impart to our boys...

Are hardly unique to your school. ..are beyond reproach.

Is this your cricket bat? Yes.

Daniel Gates, I am arresting you on suspicion of attempted murder.

Grandfather!

I don't know her! There, you see?

Grandfather! Your grandad can follow on. This is outrageous!

Mr Scott... My grandson would never involve himself with such a girl,

risk his bright future, let alone commit such a crime.

No Martyrs boy would.

Your grandson's bat was plainly the weapon used in the attack.

And if she was pregnant,

then it's his future that would be ruined by the scandal.

Mind your head, son. I didn't do anything!

I didn't... I know.

You didn't have your own bat for your demonstration,

hence your lapses in timing. So, where was it?

I don't know.

It was supposed to be out ready with my other gear, but it wasn't there.

And young Miss Lewis, where were you expecting to find her?

I wasn't.

Daniel, if you want me to help you, you have to tell the truth in confidence.

We do not have much time.

We're courting.

Grandfather would have my guts for garters if he knew.

St Saviour's girls are out of bounds.

So, you used to meet her in the boiler room?

She'd leave me notes, but I didn't get one today

I had no idea she was pregnant.

But I would never hurt her. Never.

Do you think she'll be all right?

Like the Daniel of old, keep faith. The truth will set you free.

On your bike, Padre!

Just sheltering from the weather, Inspector.