SCENE 97

INT. DOWNTON ABBEY. KITCHEN. MORNING

Mrs Patmore comes walking into the kitchen ahead of the family's luncheon and finds Daisy standing there, brooding over a platter of freshly caught fish.

MRS PATMORE (impatiently): Are you waiting for those trouts to gut themselves?

DAISY (sarcastically): No, I'm waiting for them to gut each other.

Mrs Patmore halts and gives her assistant a searching look. Daisy toys with the knife on the wooden board in front of her.

MRS PATMORE: What's wrong with you?

DAISY: It's just something Mr Barrow said last night.

MRS PATMORE: You should know better by now than to pay attention to his chitchat.

DAISY: No, I reckon he had a point this time. (She suddenly puts the knife down with an angry clang.) I just wish you'd tell me your secret. And don't say that there is no secret, because I'm not an idiot. Or don't you trust me?

MRS PATMORE (innocently): Why wouldn't I trust you?

DAISY: Because even Andy is in on it, and he's only been here five minutes.

Mrs Patmore sighs, then glances over her shoulder to check that they're alone. They are.

MRS PATMORE (in a very different tone now, low but intent): Daisy, has it occurred to you that I haven't told you because I wanted to protect you?

DAISY (with a frown): Protect me?

MRS PATMORE: Yes! You're young, Daisy, and you're clever, with your studies and all, you're going places, you've got your whole life ahead of you… So don't jump down my throat because I didn't want to ruin all that for you.

DAISY: Ruin it? (She sounds deeply worried rather than angry now.) What's happened? Mrs Patmore! That sounds terrible!

Mrs Patmore shakes her head. To Daisy's astonishment, her eyes have filled with tears.

MRS PATMORE: Oh my girl, you have no idea.

SCENE 98

EXT. THIRSK. THE GOLDEN FLEECE HOTEL. MORNING

Poirot and Hastings exit the hotel together and turn to walk down the broad market street to their car.

HASTINGS: So you think the girl's telling the truth?

POIROT: Why the sudden doubts, Hastings? Only an hour ago, you were quite ready to believe the worst of Mr Barrow. Don't you feel vindicated now?

HASTINGS: It's just… Do you think she's a good witness? I thought it was odd, you know. She took Green his meals and did his room for four whole days, and yet when we asked her for a description, she could only give us the barest essentials. While she saw Barrow only for a minute or two, but she still came up with this whole list of completely accurate details about him.

POIROT: Well observed, Hastings. And what do you conclude from that?

HASTINGS: I don't want to think badly of her, but could she be in cahoots with Green? You know, kept the description deliberately vague so he can't be traced?

POIROT: To what end?
HASTINGS: Maybe she liked Green? Wanted to do him a favour?

POIROT: While she couldn't care less whether Mr Barrow gets caught or not, you mean?

HASTINGS (with a shrug): That's how I read it. (They have arrived at their car.) Anyway, what now?

POIROT: Now we go back to Downton Abbey.

HASTINGS: To confront Barrow?

POIROT: No. To have a few words with the chauffeur.

HASTINGS: With the chauffeur? Why's that?
POIROT: Because I need to know who in the household is able to drive a car.

HASTINGS: He could have come in a taxi.

Poirot gives Hastings a scathing look, then pulls open the passenger door and climbs in.

SCENE 99

INT. DOWNTON ABBEY. THE GREAT HALL. MORNING

Carson is on the phone, taking notes.

CARSON (into the phone): Yes, yes. I have it. Not at all, sir… Yes, as soon as he's back… Goodbye.

He hangs up the phone. Mrs Hughes walks past, carrying a laundry basket with fresh linen.

MRS HUGHES: Who was that?

CARSON: Mr Dawes, the headmaster of the school. Apparently Mr Poirot wanted to know about the recent local weather.

MRS HUGHES: What? How's that supposed to help?

CARSON (reproachfully): Aren't we taught that curiosity is a sin, Mrs Hughes?

MRS HUGHES: Well, I don't see how the weather could be to blame.

CARSON: To blame for what, exactly?

MRS HUGHES (with a wry chuckle): Mr Carson, you can forbid us to talk about it, but you can't keep us from wondering. Don't tell me that you aren't, too.

CARSON: I thought you were on my side in this!

MRS HUGHES: Well, I hope you're on mine.

She continues past him towards the dining room. He shakes his head, then pockets the note and goes about his own duties.

SCENE 100

EXT. DOWNTON ABBEY. STABLE YARD. MORNING

Hastings and Poirot arrive back at Downton Abbey. Hastings takes a neat turn through the gate into the stable yard and stops the car right in front of the coach house. Mr Stark, the Downton chauffeur, comes out, carrying an oil can. He quickly walks over and opens the door on the passenger side for Poirot. Hastings jumps out on the driver's side and joins the other two.

STARK (to Hastings): You needn't have taken the trouble, sir. Mr Molesley could have taken the car round from the front door in a jiffy. (To Poirot) Save you the walk.

POIROT: Not at all, Mr Stark. I'm told moderate exercise is beneficial, lest I go rusty. (He makes a move as if to climb out, but then abandons the attempt with a groan.) Ah, just a moment.

STARK: Very well, sir, take your time.

POIROT (conversationally): You've intrigued me, Mr Stark. Do all the manservants know how to drive?

STARK: Oh, no. Only Mr Molesley. He helps me out sometimes when we have to take larger parties to the station and such.

POIROT: Not Mr Carson?

STARK: No, sir. Mr Carson won't like me saying it, but he belongs in a different century. Cars are a mystery to him.

POIROT: What about Mr Barrow?

STARK (with a chuckle): Heavens, no. There's a story out there about how back in war, when Downton was a convalescent home, someone asked him to shift an ambulance in the drive to make room for the next one, and he nearly wrecked it.

POIROT: And the new young man from London?

STARK: Andy? He may know how to take the tube, but I doubt he's ever been behind a wheel.

HASTINGS: What about the family? Apart from Mr Branson, obviously, are there any motorists among them?

STARK: Well, not Lady Mary, obviously -

POIROT: No, quite understandable...

STARK: - but Lady Edith is a very competent driver.

HASTINGS (surprised): Lady Edith?

STARK: Yes. Legend has it that when there was a shortage of labour during the war, she drove tractors on the farms around here. And then...

He trails off, suddenly concerned that he's talking too much. With a gesture of his hand, Poirot invites him to continue.

STARK (awkwardly): Well, I shouldn't be saying this, but I get the impression that Mr Branson has been tutoring His Lordship how to drive lately. The gamekeepers have seen them at it out on the estate. But I couldn't be sure, and anyway, if His Lordship wants it to be a secret, then it's none of my business.

POIROT: Naturally. If I may ask one more question, Mr Stark - is there a log kept of who uses the cars, and when?

STARK: I'm afraid not, sir.

POIROT: So it would not be possible to tell whether a car had been taken on a particular day, by a particular person?

STARK: No. (He frowns, suddenly suspicious.) Why? What day did you have in mind?

POIROT (quickly): None at all. I was merely wondering how these things are organised on large estates. (With a smile) Who knows, one day the knowledge may even help me solve a case!

SCENE 101

EXT. DOWNTON ABBEY. THE GREAT HALL. MORNING

In the hall, Carson stands ready with his note in his hand when Poirot comes in, supported by Hastings and Molesley.

CARSON: Mr Dawes telephoned while you were out, sir. I've written down what he found.

POIROT: Thank you for your trouble, Mr Carson. (He takes the note and pockets it without looking at it.) Was there any mail for me, too?

CARSON: I'm afraid not, sir. Are you expecting any?

POIROT: Yes, a letter from London. Please let me know as soon as it arrives.

CARSON: Of course, sir.

Poirot, Hastings and Molesley move on towards the stairs, only to be accosted again a moment later by Mary, who has emerged from the library, smiling in welcome.

MARY: Oh, Mr Poirot, Captain Hastings! You're back! Won't you join us for luncheon? It'll be ready any minute now.

POIROT: Alas, Lady Mary, that is most kind of you, but our little excursion has tired me out. I'm afraid I'll have to lie down as soon as may be.

MARY: But I hope you were successful?

POIROT: Oh yes. We made a most enlightening discovery.

When Poirot doesn't elaborate, Mary turns to Hastings.

MARY: Then won't you eat with us at least, and tell us about your adventures?

Hastings opens his mouth to reply, but Poirot is quicker.

POIROT: I fear we must disappoint you again, Lady Mary. Captain Hastings will go back directly to Crawley House now to pack. He returns to London tomorrow.

It's hard to say who is more surprised at this news, Mary or Hastings himself, but Hastings recovers gallantly.

HASTINGS: Oh – yes. Erm, urgent business.

MARY: Nothing serious, I hope. But I'm sorry you're leaving so soon.

POIROT: It's just for the one day. He'll be back in no time.

Hastings looks rather relieved to hear that.

MARY (to Poirot): Then I hope you will take a proper rest tomorrow, after today's exertions?

POIROT: I wish I could, but tomorrow, I must go and see a doctor.

MARY: Has Dr Clarkson not been helpful?

POIROT: On the contrary, Lady Mary. Dr Clarkson has been of invaluable assistance to me in this troubling matter. But I'm afraid that it is a case for a specialist now.

MARY: Well then, I mustn't keep you. I'll tell Barrow to take your luncheon up to your room, shall I?

POIROT: That would be most welcome, Lady Mary. Thank you.

Mary moves away.

HASTINGS: Are you sure I shouldn't stay?

POIROT (with a smile): As always, I am touched by your concern, mon ami, but you need not worry about me. Mr Barrow has served me most assiduously for the past two days, and I'm sure he will continue to do so. Come and see me again tonight, so we can talk before you leave.

Reluctantly, Hastings hands his friend over to Molesley's care. They start their slow ascent of the stairs while Hastings turns and leaves the house, with Carson holding the door open for him.

SCENE 102

INT. DOWNTON ABBEY. KITCHEN. AFTERNOON
With luncheon cleared away, Mrs Patmore, Daisy, Molesley, Baxter, Bates and Andy are taking a tea break, sitting or standing around the central table with their cups in their hands.

MRS PATMORE: Do we know what letter from London he was talking about?

MOLESLEY: No, he didn't say.

BATES (in a worried tone): Well, if the papers are right, he's as thick as thieves with the officers at Scotland Yard.

BAXTER (in a private aside to Molesley): What did I tell you.

MRS PATMORE: What reason should Mr Poirot have to ask Scotland Yard to look up any of us, Mr Bates?
BATES: I couldn't tell you that, but I know what he'll find if he looks up Anna and me.

MOLESLEY: Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It may be something completely harmless.

The bell at the back door rings. Andy puts down his cup.

ANDY: That'll be the second post.

He walks off to fetch it in.

MOLESLEY (in a private aside to Baxter): You still have the poster, don't you?

BAXTER: On the wall of my room. To remind me of my sins.

She smiles wanly.

MOLESLEY: Good.

Unnoticed by the others, he takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. Andy returns, carrying a stack of letters, but just then Carson comes downstairs, too.

CARSON: Ah, the mail. Excellent.

He takes it from Andy and moves off in the direction of his pantry. The others look at Andy expectantly.

MOLESLEY: Well? Anything for Mr Poirot?

ANDY (blushing): Er, I – I couldn't see, there was no time.

MRS PATMORE (exasperated): Oh, you're hopeless!

Andy looks crestfallen. Daisy refills his cup and nudges him gently to take it back. Her smile revives his spirits a little.

SCENE 103

INT. CARSON'S PANTRY. AFTERNOON

Carson pushes the door to his pantry open and walks in, his eyes on the stack of mail in his hand as he sorts it. By the desk, Thomas straightens up with a start. Carson comes to an abrupt halt. Thomas quickly closes the thick binder he's been looking through.

CARSON (frowning massively): What are you doing, if I may ask?

Thomas drags up a creditable imitation of a deferent smile.

THOMAS: I'm sorry, Mr Carson, but it occurred to me that we may have forgotten to log Gertie's leave of absence correctly. I just wanted to check.

Carson snatches the binder out of Thomas' hands and replaces it on the shelf where it belongs.

CARSON: I did not forget. And you'd better make yourself useful and hand out these.

He hands over the mail for the servants.

THOMAS: If there's anything for Mr Poirot, I can –

CARSON: Yes, there is, and I am taking it up to him.

He picks up a salver from his desk, then makes a point of waiting for Thomas to walk out of the room before him, which Thomas has no choice but to do.

SCENE 104

INT. DOWNTON ABBEY. DOWNSTAIRS CORRIDOR. AFTERNOON

On his mail round, Thomas has managed to corner Daisy in the open door of the store room. He leans against the door jamb, blocking her way out, and talks to her in an urgent undertone.

THOMAS: Look, I'll be missed at tea if I'm not there, but while we're in the hall, you could easily pop in there and –

DAISY (firmly): No, I can't. I can't steal from Mr Carson, it's not right.

THOMAS: Not steal, borrow. And it's just a piece of paper. (He frowns.) Why are you being so pig-headed all of a sudden? Only yesterday, you'd have been over the moon to be asked to help out. Now's your chance, and you don't want it?

DAISY: No, I don't want it. I've thought about it, and I reckon Mr Carson's right. Mr Poirot's case is none of our business, and nothing good can come of it if we pretend that it is.

She ducks under his arm and walks back towards the kitchen, leaving him standing there, looking extremely frustrated.