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THE HAMMER OF GOD and THE SINS OF PRINCE SARADIN FATHER BROWN MYSTERIES
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With prime the Father Brown stories by G.K. chesterton, We present the Hammer of God, adapted by John Scottney with Andrew Sachs as Father Brown. Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost with us all evermore. Amen. Who is it? Can I help you? Oh. Oh, I'm not just. Sorry, I didn't see you up there. I'll come down. I'm the rector here. Ber is my name. Wilfred Berdrick. How do you do, Mr. Yes, well, I must say, it is magnificent. Your rude loft, I mean, so few survived in England and the Roundheads were so strong in these parts that carving filigree work you call it. Yes, it is rather fine, yes. I often go out there to pray. To pray? Up there above the aisle. Well, you can look down on the whole church. And a building as noble as this one should glorify God in all its parts. Indeed, yes. I'm sorry I interrupted your devotion. No, no, I. I just finished saying evensong to myself alone as usual. Vespers, I prefer to call it. Oh, this is an old priory church, you know. And I. I like to keep the old monastic prayer today. All of them, surely. All prime turf Sex knowns. Vespers, complain I. Matins at midnight and. And laws? Oh, no, not laws. But then latterly, neither did the monks. 2:00 clock in the morning is a little inconvenient. We don't see many Romans in these parts, Father. Oh, Brown. I'm sorry. Father Brown. Well, I've been staying with my sister over at Bungay and as I had a week to spare, I thought I'd follow the old Pilgrim route to Our lady at Walsingham. Ah. I heard some of your people at revived the shrine, what, 10 years ago? Yes, yes. March 1897, actually, there can't be much left of the abbey. How does it go? Bitter. Bitter to behold, the grass to grow. Well, walls of Walsingham. So stately. Did it show? Indeed, yes, yes, yes. Your priory here wasn't the only one to be dismantled by, pardon me, the founder of the Anglican Church. It must have been quite a place to have a chapel like this. It's superb. Some people do say the tower is disproportionately tall. Oh, it was completely rebuilt in the 14th century. The monks made a fortune out of the wool trade, hence St Cuthbert's the shepherd's patron. Yes, yes, yes, but then my family did well out of it, too. Your family? My brother is the local squire. We go back a long way. Look, would you like me to show you around the church? Oh, very much. But tomorrow, if possible. I really ought to find somewhere to stay first. Oh, well, there's only the Blue Boar. It's simple but clean. And Thurston, the landlord's a good sort. Oh, good, good. There's a shortcut out of the west door, then through the blacksmith's yard, which immediately abuts on it. I'll show you. Oh, thank you so much. I hope you'll be comfortable here, Father. We don't have many visitors. It's a quiet village. Not much ever happens. Thank you, Mrs. Thurston. Thank you. I'm sure it will be perfect. The rector spoke very highly of me, Mr. Burdick. He's a good man. A little strange in his ways, but a good man. Not like his brother. Oh, his brother, the squire. Supper will be at half past seven, Father, if that suits you. Oh, yes, thank you so much. Thank you. A very good evening to you, Rector. Evening, Rector, I said. Well, Fred, not a word for your own brother. That's a. That's a bit unchristian for a parson, isn't it? No. Norman. What in heaven's name are you doing sitting outside the Blue Boar in the dark? Oh, I see. You're having your last drink on Tuesday night. Or your first drink on Wednesday morning. That midnight striking, was it? Well, that's a nice scholastic point, isn't it, Mr. Muffin? I'm surprised, Thurston, that you say drinking so late. Surprised, Wilfred? Why surprised? Since as head of our distinguished and ancient family, I own the damn deity like the rest of the whole stinking village. They will stay serving me as Long as I damn well please. Good night, Norman. Old enough to pray in your precious church? Yes. You're a strange one, Wilfred. Always praying in odd places and at odd times. Unless, of course, you're off to see Mrs. Barnes. What do you mean? Very convenient for you, that place being banged next door to the church, and the beauteous Mrs. Barnes being so accommodating. Don't sully me with your own filth, Norman. Well, if the parson won't go to comfort a lowly member of his flock, then, like the good landlord I am, I must watch sleeplessly over my people. I'm off to pay a call on Mrs. Barnes myself. Norman. Yes? Are you never afraid of thunderbolts? By this sudden interest in meteorology, dear friend, I mean, do you never think a God might strike you in the streets? You and your fairy tales. If you do not fear God, you have good reason to fear man. Barnes, the blacksmith, is the biggest and strongest man for 40 miles around. Half the village knows if you're liaison with his wife. He's away until late tomorrow morning. I'll be out of his wife's bed long before that. Still, kind of you to warn me. Where's that bottle? And if he comes back unexpectedly? Why do you think I'm wearying Father's old deer stalker? I don't know. Your taste in dress has always been bizarre, Norman, especially when you're drunk. Because underneath it is there the bassinet from the long gallery. That old helmet? Norman, you're absurd. On the contrary. Unlike you, my interest in things medieval is purely practical. If Barnes turns up and tries to bit me on the head, the last of the Birdricks is protected by the armor of his forefathers. And Mrs. Barnes, she can fend for herself. And so, Brother Wilfrid, good night. Go and pray, Parson, in some unlikely corner of your drafty church with its cold flint tower pointing at the moon. I've warmer work to do. Don't bother to pray for me. Oh, yes, Norman, there's a prayer for you. Cursed are the unmerciful. Fornicators and adulterers, covetous persons, idolaters, slanderers, drunkards and extortioners. Amen. So I thought I'd come early. It's such a beautiful morning, isn't it? And just to check that you really do celebrate prime, sure enough, shop at 6. Here you were, Mr. Berdrick. Berdrick. That's B, O, E, D, is it? It's a Saxon name, surely? Yes. Yes, you were one of the few Saxon families allowed to keep our lands by the conqueror. Oh, yes. It was said to be in recompense for my ancestor betraying her with the weight to the Normans. Ah, if so, it was an act, not uncharacteristically my family. My brother, I fear is. Yes, well, I won't bore you with family matters. Oh dear, oh dear. Who is that unfortunate creature? They call him Mad Joe. He's. Poor fellow. He's the blacksmith's brother. I've not seen him in here before. The. The blacksmith's wife is a member of my congregation. But the blacksmith himself is a staunch nonconformist. So is Joe, if he's anything. Family. Always has been. Right back to Puritan days. Would you excuse me, Father Brown? I must see if I can find out what he wants. Of course. I mustn't interfere with your pastoral duty. Besides, I must get back to breakfast. Joe. Joe, what is it? That's what I like to see. An ice cream plate, Father. Were they all right then, the floaters? Oh, yes, delicious. Mrs. Cuthberts, earlier, were you? The rectory? Seems to spend all his time there. When he's not praying, he's pottering about, fetching the woodwork or something. His brother, the Squire, say he care more about Gothic architecture than God. Oh, that reminds me. I must apologize to you for the Squire's behavior last night. He's got a coarse tongue on him, especially when he's in drink. And if you don't. Not at all. I felt sorry for you. Toast. Father, your marm needs all me. Come on in, that's open. Mavis, let me use your telephone, will you? I got a telephone. Headquarters. Am Street. Just. Oh, sorry. I didn't know you had company. Father Brown, this is Constable Barton. Wait. What is it? Water. What's happened? It's the Squire. What's he done this time? Nothing. No. Never will do nothing again. He's dead. Murdered by Simeon Barnes, the blacksmiths. He had it coming to him. I say that, but. You catch Simeon, did you? Oh, no, no, he's disappeared. He has but gives the cobbler he found the Squire in Simeon's yard. He'd obviously saving your presence. Reverend. Just spent the night with Simeon's missus. Couldn't be the first time, I reckon. The blacksmith bumped into the Squire this morning on his way home from wherever he'd been. He sees the Squire coming out of his house, puts two and two together, then on the spur of the moment, picks up a hammer and hits him. It was done with a hammer still lying there. It Is. And it was definitely the blacksmith who did it. Oh, no question, Reverend Squire. Skull is smashed to bits. Right gory mess it is. No one round here has got the strength to do that, save Simeon Barnes. And he's the man who had most reason for doing it. Right, stand back, please, folks. Inspector says no one's got to touch the body. Not as I reckon anybody will want too much status in. Oh, and Gibbs, he says you wasn't supposed to touch the ammon either. He should be here soony, Inspector. George Ruffin's got to meet him at the station with his kick. Why, Gibbs, you hurt? Leave it alone. They can't hang Simeon, you know, Constable. Crime of passion. That means an automatic acquittal. Isn't that true, Doctor? Mr. Gibbs, you're talking through your hat. That's France, if it's true anywhere. Has anyone told Will Alfred? Where is he? At terse 9 o'. Clock. He should be on his way up here towards the church. Well, I'll be. You're quite right. Here he is. Rector. Rector. Dr. Wesley. Father Brown. What has happened? What are all these people now? Oh, Isema. Oh, my God. Oh, God have mercy on his son. Come into the church, Wilfrid, Away from all these people. Well, I prayed for my brother soul and sought forgiveness for his many sins. Yes. Yes, sir, have I. And for all who commit sins. His head has. I had no idea. It must have been an incredible blow. I mean, even for a man as strong as Simeon Barnes. Simeon Byrne? Are they accusing the blacksmith? Oh, no, no, no. Not Henry. Could never have been him. Never. Why not? Why not? Why? Because he is nothing if not what they used to call a God fearing man. His is a harsh, imperious, unforgiving Christianity. But to him, the Ten Commandments are non law. He could never do this. What? Don't the Ten Commandments say Thou shalt not commit adultery. We also say, thou shalt not kill. How did Mrs. Barnes take the Squire's death, Doctor? That was the rum thing. She was in tears. Not tears of grief, really. More hysterical. When she saw the corpse, she said, the devil. The devil. And then she muttered something I couldn't hear and then I swear she went as if to spit on the body. What do you think of my brother's injuries, Father Brown? His? Oh, I. Well, I don't know. I know very little about. Well, I hardly saw. But to tell you the truth, I was much more interested in the hammer. The hammer? Yes. Very small, didn't you think? And there's something else about it. I think so at least. The trouble is, I don't really know much about hammers, I'm afraid. Excuse me, gentlemen. Yes, Constable? Inspector stole from Ipswich. He's here. He'd like you all to come over to the Blue Ball. Wants to ask some questions. What's happening, Gibbs? Oh, I reckon he's barmy. That Inspector asked me if Squire had any enemies. Do better asking if he had any friends. There are. Father Brown. Yes, Inspector? I'd like to see you next, sir. He's through the back room. Oh, no, no, no, of course not. Would you mind so much, Rich? Father Brown? Yes, yes, fine. Shut the door, Constable. Sir. You know Constable Barton? Yes, yes, I. I just like to confirm, I do say. Oh, thank you. So confirm some times, yes. Now, according to my records, you pass through the blacksmith you yard coming from the church at approximately 6.45am I'd like to confirm that the body was not there at the time. Oh, no, no, it wasn't. I'm sure I'd have noticed it. Inspector, may I ask, what does Mr. Barnes look like? I don't rightly know, sir. What does he look like, Martin? Big fellow, sir. Red air, cut short. Oh, that is interesting. That's very interesting. Did you. Did you see him this morning, sir? This morning? No, no, not this morning. No, no, no. Through the window here. He's coming up the lane with two fellows I know from Bungay. That's him, sir. Quick, out the back way. Simeon, we'd like a word with you. What's going on here? I won't ask you, Mr. Barnes, whether you know anything about what has happened here. You're not bound to say. I hope you don't know and that you're able to prove it. But I must go through the proper form. Simeon Barnes, I arrest you in the name of His Majesty King Edward VII for the murder of Major Norman. Ethelred's just Birderich. Is Major Birderich Dad? Yes, I'm afraid he is. And he's damned. Why did this dog die? In his sense, aye. Moderate your language, Simeon. Moderate the Bible's language and I'll moderate mine. When did he die? He was alive at Midnight, dead before 8 this morning. God is good. Arrest me if you wish, Mr. Inspector. But there are two men standing here, good tradesmen of Bungay, who swear that they saw me from before midnight till daybreak. And along Arthur, in the committee room of our revival mission in Bungay, which sits all night with save souls, surpassed many others too. Saw me. Yes, I can vouch for Both these men from Bungay. Inspector John Boswell. Oh, morning, Father. Oh, good morning. John and Josiah Risby. I know you both, don't I? You do, sir. You do. Father Browning. What are you doing here? Sir? Josiah Risby. You know this handmaiden of the Scarlet Woman? Of course I do. Everyone in Bungay knows Father Brown, don't they, John? Shame on you, Josiah. And I thought you a Christian man, my dear fellow. I hope I've convinced you, Inspector. If you ask me, no fleshly power killed the major. He who in the stillness smokes the nakarib, he were slew the great beast. And high time too, say I. That agent is outside my jurisdiction. Mr. Barnes. You are not outsiders. See you to it. Misses Thurston. Your beer is as good as your cooking. Thank you, Father Wilfred. Here's your drink. Oh. Oh, thank you. Do you know, I can hardly believe it's so early. It's been a long morning and we're further from the solution than ever. Ah, Brother Brown. Yes? I've been thinking about what you said. You know. You know, the hammer being too small. Yes. Who would use a small hammer? I thought, with 10 large hammers lying about. Only the kind of person that can't lift a large hammer. Of course, a bold woman might commit 10 murders with a light hammer, but she couldn't kill a cockroach with a heavy one. And, I mean, why do people always assume that the only person who hates a wife's lover is her husband? Nine times out of 10, the person who most hates the wife's lover is the wife herself. And who knows what insolence and treachery the squire had shown her. No, Dr. Wesley, Mrs. Barnes could not have killed my brother. No woman ever born could have done it. You haven't grasped the whole of it. He was wearing an iron hat. The blow shattered it like broken glass. Well, I may be wrong. There are objections to everything, but I stick to the main point. No man but an idiot would pick up a little hammer if he could use a big hammer. What did you say? That was the word I was. That was the word I wanted. What did you say? I said no man but an idiot would. Exactly. No man but an idiot did. When I was in church this morning, a madman came in to pray. That poor Joe has been wrong all his life. God knows what he prayed. But it's not incredible to suppose that a lunatic would pray before killing a man. But why would he want to kill him? The motive of my brother was always cruelly teasing him. Perhaps he'd seen my brother with his brother's wife and felt he was defending the family honour in some way. By Jones, this is talking at. How do you. Don't you see? This is the only theory that answers both riddles. The little hammer and the big blow. The smith might have struck the big blow, but he would not have chosen the little hammer. His wife might have chosen the little hammer, but could not have struck the blow. A madman being mad might have chosen the first thing that came to hand. And as for the big blow, well, have you never heard, Doctor, that a maniac in his paroxysm may have the strength of 10? Of course, Joe could never be prosecuted. If ever a man could plead insanity, it's poor mad Joe. By golly, I believe you've got it. What do you think, Father Brown? Well, you know, I think I prefer Simeon Barnes idea that what was it? No fleshly power was involved. But I don't understand, Father. Surely, Father, it has to be the lunatic. Oh, look at the time. I'm. Oh, excuse me, gentlemen, I must go. I have to have to be in church. It's nearly the sixth hour. Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps when you finished your office I might come over and join you. Oh, yes, of course, of course. Father. What did he mean, the sixth hour? It's almost midday. Well, the monks started their day at six in the morning. Hence they called midday the sixth hour sext. It was their third office. So you see, Father, although to a great extent we escaped the ravages of the Puritans, I've had to contend with the ravages of time. Yes, we do done wonders, Mr. Berdrick. Mrs. Thurston told me you were a handy man, but that you're a carpenter. A craftsman. That's hard to tell which poppy heads are original, which ones are carved by you. Still, I suppose if a blacksmith can be a preacher, there's no reason why a clergyman shouldn't be a master carpenter. Well, I'm hardly the first. What? Oh, yes, indeed. I wonder, would it perhaps be possible to go up your famous tower? I'd like to see the view. As you wish. But be warned, it's a long haul. Oh, yes. Here. Oh, look at that. Might be a map of the world. Might get down there. Yes, yes, do come up here to pray too, Mr. Birdrick. Yes, frequently. It all looks so tranquil from here. The village, the rich, flat farmlands. You can sometimes see the sea. That's the smith's yard, isn't it? Immediately below, yes. You know, there's a kind of titan energy in medieval architecture. It always seems to be rushing away. Seen from below, this church springs up like a fountain of the stars. And from here, it's more like a cataract pouring into a voiceless pit. Be careful of looking so sharply down. It can be disturbing. Yes, yes, there's a monstrous disproportion from below. This huge stone griffin. Yes, it looks quite small and harmless from here. It's like a great dragon stalking the fields. You know, heights were made to be looked at, not looked from. Yes. One may fall, one's soul may fall. If one's body doesn't. I scarcely understand you. I think there's something rather dangerous about standing on these high places even to pray. Father? Yes? You don't believe Mad Joe did it, do you? No. It would explain the small hammer. Yes, but we know he didn't do it, don't we? Joe would have used a blacksmith's hammer, a hammer used to work metal. But the weapon was a hammer of another kind, one used for working wood. A carpenter's hammer. Father Brown. You know, there was a man once who began by worshipping with others kneeling on the floor before the altar, but who grew fond of high and lonely places to pray from. And in one of those dizzy places where the world seemed to turn under him like a wheel, his brain turned also and he came to fancy he was God. It must seem easy to judge the world from up here. To believe it is given to you to strike down the sinner you. Are you a devil? I am a man and therefore have all devils in my heart. From here it all looks so simple, doesn't it? Whether you come up here to pray or with a set of carpenter's tools to mend a wooden railing, to look down and see all men as insects. To see one particular poisonous insect. How do you understand all this? It's so simple, not just to judge, but to execute sentence. For you have at hand here one of the awful engines of nature. Gravitation. That mad and quickening rush by which all things of the earth fly back to her heart. The dreadful, unfleshly power of gravitation, whereby, if dropped from a great height, even a small hammer would strike as a lethal bullet. No. No. No. Come back. Come here. No. No. I will quite simply not allow you to jump. That door leads to hell. Now come down, down to earth with me. You're not yet far wrong, as assassins go. You would not allow the crime to be fixed on the smith or his wife. You tried to fix it on the imbecile who could not be punished. Come. Come away from these stone carved angels and devils. Come down, down into the world of men. And when we reach the floor of the nave, I will leave you there at ground level to make your own decision. And then go your own way, as free as the wind. I will seal this with the seal of the confessional. Now I've said my last word. We present the sins of prince saradine. Adapted by john scottney with andrew sachs as father brown. Well, what's it to me, Father? Shall we look out for some waterside inn or moor by the riverbank and sleep in the boat? It's all sky north. Huge, wide skies in London. There the streets are ravines. Narrow, brick ravines. You know, when I was a boy, for hours I used to stare at this guy. Just stare? Yes, why not? Light beneath the stars. It's warm enough. First, Captain Falmo, what ship stores do you have aboard? Well, see for yourself. It's all by you, Father. In the stern, under the sleeping bags. Just a few necessities. Two bottles of claret and a bottle of brandy. In case we feel faint, presumably. Yes. And why did you invite me? In case you feel the cold hand of death in the night and need the consolation of the church. Ah, but you've not neglected to feed the mind a book. Oh, one book, my dear Flambo. What's this? Alice through the Looking Trust. Ah, do not scoff, Father Brown. As you can see, I. I am beginning to master your English language. But that book. By studying that book that way, I assure you I will come to fathom also the psychology of the English mind. Now, look over there. That backwater there. We shall spend the night, if you will just steer to Cork. Certainly, yes. Cork, Father. The other spring you pulled. Good. The eggs will be ready in a few minutes. Now, Flambeau, my friend, I ask you again. Why have you come to the Norfolk Broads? And why have you made such a point of asking me to come and join you? I came here partly because I need a few days holiday. And partly because my little boat, I felt, would not seem out of place in your little Norfolk rivers. And I like fishing. But also, have a look at this card, Father. Ah, yes, thank you. I had it for years. It somehow got to me in Paris three, four years ago. It intrigued me. In my criminal days, I received many strange communications. Declarations of love even. But this. This is different. That little card with the green ink. Dear Monsieur Flambeau, if you ever come to England, come and See me, I have met all the other great men of my time. Oh, well, that trick of yours of getting one detective to arrest the other was the most splendid scene in French history. How strange. Yes, but the strangest thing is the sender's name and address. Prince Saradine. Reid House, Reed Island, Norfolk. Prince? Well, there can't be many princes in these parts. Leaving aside Sandringham, of course. Yes. This Saradin I discovered, he was a Sicilian of high birth. But as a young man, he eloped with a noblewoman of equally high rank. A married woman, it seems. Her husband, Signor Antonelli, then committed suicide by flinging himself off a cliff near their home in Sicily. What a terrible, foolish thing to do. Well, there were suspicions. It may not have been suicide. Anyway, Saradin lived a brilliant and fashionable life in Vienna and Paris. Then suddenly, some years ago, he disappeared. And then I get this car. Father, why should he choose to live on a remote island in a Norfolk marten? It must be the last place anyone would expect to find. I ask you. A Sicilian nobleman. Perhaps that is the reason. I. I think. Yeah, I think the eggs are ready. What? Who's there? Who is it? Oh, it's you, Father Brown. What time is it? It's five o'. Clock. I'm afraid I'm not. I'm getting old. Can't see. I sleep in the open air as well as I used to. It's not yet light, at least not daylight. But you see that huge yellow moon? Well, since we are awake, we might as well push on. See how I am mastering your English idioms? What an eerie light. Everything seems threatening, out of proportion. It's like being in fairyland. Yes, yes. You know, the men who wrote those medieval ballads, they knew more about fairies than we do. It's not always nice things that happen in fairyland. You mean we should turn back? Oh, no, no, no. I didn't say it was wrong to enter fairyland, only that it could be dangerous. No, no, there's no one there. No, no, no. There's someone coming. What do you want? Is this the residence of Prince Saradin? You're Italian? No, I'm French. Now, look here, the Prince sent me this card. All right, we'll go ask Mr. Paul. Ah, the warm welcome you always get in the countryside. Ah, Monsieur Flambeau. How good of you to call. And this gentleman. Ah, this is my friend Father Brown. And you are Prince Ardin. No, I am merely the steward. Do please come in, gentlemen. Thank you. Yes, Father Brown. Oh, thank you so much. If you would Follow me to the salon. Yes, thank you. His Highness should be here any minute and would be distressed to have just missed any gentleman he invited. Yes, gentlemen, I will ask Mrs. Anthony to prepare you some cotton. Thank you. What a remarkable room, Mr. Paul. I am known as Mr. Pall, sir. Yes, the Prince has a great love of light. It was the large windows that attracted him to the house. And he himself had all the mirrors installed. It is possible to see almost all of the broad from wherever you're sitting. Ah, yes. You seem to have come from fairyland into looking glass land. I beg your pardon? Pardon? Oh, nothing. Ah, tell me, this crayon portrait of the two boys, Mr. Pearl, is one of them the Prince? Ah, yes, sir. With his brother, Captain Stephen. And this photograph, the man in fencing costume with a cup. It is the Prince as a young man? No, sir. Captain Stephen. I'm afraid the captain has been a great trial to his Highness. If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must make a telephone call. Oh, yes, of course. Well, fantastique. All this light. It's like a cathedral. No, my friend. In a cathedral the thrust is always vertical upwards to heaven. Here the long oblong windows and mirrors, the low eaves of the thatch. The thrust is down into the marshy earth. If this is a cathedral, it is a cathedral consecrated to the devil. Oh, I was speaking to His Highness. He is somewhat delayed, but he begs you to remain and asks if you will do him the honor of joining him for lunch. Oh, no. Would be delighted. Ah, very good, sir. Mrs. Anthony will bring your coffee in a moment. Let's have a look at that picture again. Oh, yes, yes. The Brothers Sardine. They look as alike as Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Yes, exactly so. Captain Stephen has been a great trial to his brother. I wonder which is the good brother and which the bad. Your coffee, gentlemen. Ah, you must be Mrs. Anthony. I didn't hear you come. Come in. Tell me, those windows there, they are what you call. You call them in English, French windows, no? Yes, sir. There is a catch. Ah, yes, I see, I see. Right then I think I will go and have my coffee in the garden. Will you join me, Father Brown? No, no. I'd like to have a look around the house, if I may, Mrs. Anthony. Oh, certainly, Father. Right then, I will see you later. Toodaloo, eh? Perhaps I will study my book by the river. Would you like to see the library, Father? The library? Oh, yes, yes, I am. Which one is the good brother, Mrs. Anthony? Here in the picture? It would be hard. It would Be mighty hard to say which is the good and which is the bad. Bad one, Father. Oh, yes. Oh, Father, it is so long, too long since I spoke to a priest, my child. Father, there isn't a good brother. Oh, there was evil enough in the captain taking the prince's money, but be assured, there was no goodness in the prince giving it. The captain's not the only man with something against him. Oh, blackmail. What is something? What is it? Oh, my. Please, please. Thank you, Father. That's better. There's a couple of savage mastiffs out there. Oh, I am so sorry, sir. I should have warned you. Take Tancred and Baldwin and chain them up while the gentlemen are here. Quite impressive dogs there. Oh, I'm extremely sorry, Monsieur Flambeau. Oh, your coat seems to be torn. I'll get you one of mine to wear. Mrs. Anthony will repair it later. I'll come with you. You see, Father, the dogs answer only to the man, and the man only to my. To Mr. Paul. Shall I take you to the library? Oh, how good of you. So here you are, Father. Tell me, what kind of books have you found? In the library of Looking Glass House are the titles all reversed, like they are in Carol's story? There are some very strange books here. And a lot on Sicily. What do you know about Sicily, Flandel? Well, I have come across the Honorata Societa. The Mafia, of course. Surely you don't think the prince is anywhere involved? Oh, no, no, no, no. But behind your honorable society lies something much older, much deeper. Yes, here it is. Storia della Sicilia. For 2,000 years, Flambo, you see, Sicily was ruled by five foreigners. Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Spaniards. Ah, yes, I thought so. And out of this foreign domination grew a strange and terrible code. The Omerta. Yes, I've heard of it. Yes. Here, I'll translate for you. Sicilian holds it not on dishonorable to have his rights and wrongs judged by the government. The state judged by the state. The state was always the agent of foreign rule. Instead, the Omerta is founded based on a cruel and simple duty. The overriding duty of personal revenge. And on the strict public silence of witnesses. Oh, yes. Above all, on the bonds of the family. Uniflambeau. These murdering feuds run for generations. And you think the prince has fled here to escape vengeance for something he did? Well, you told me yourself. You said he stole another man's wife and perhaps murdered the husband. And then his own brother started to blackmail him. The woman who calls herself Mrs. Anthony, she told Me as much. There you have it. Everything is explained. The bruiser of a servant. The savage dogs. They are guardians. But there are other things as well. Gentlemen, his highness is here. Mrs. Anthony, clear these dishes now. Very good, sir. Ancora di vesuvio, Signor Flombo. It goes well with cheese. Paul, be quick. Bring another two bottles. The best in yourself, sir. Senor Flombo, you are an amazing man. Your story intrigues me. But how does it finish? Well, the two detectives, each believing the other to be me, arrived at exactly the same time. They then tried to arrest each other and went off arguing, leaving me to go about my business in the jeweler's shop. Magnific. I do not know how it was I never met you in Paris. You certainly seem to have frequented the same kind of society. Indeed. And now, like me, he has given it all up for the quiet life. La vita serene. Here there is nothing to do but fish. You enjoy fishing, Senor Flambo? Oh, yes, very much. Then this afternoon I will show you where you will have the good sport. It is on the bank of the river, opposite this island. It is the wrong time of day, of course, but still there one generally has la bona fortuna. Will you join us, Father Brock? Not to fish? No, thank you. But perhaps I might borrow a book from your library and sit with you. By all means. Paul. Paul, where are you, man? Where is the wine I sent you for Supito soupyto? I have it here, sir. You were right about this being a good spot for fishing, your Highness. Si chemolto tranquilique. And there is good shooting, too. I was just reading about the aboundant fowls and fish in the Norfolk marshes. What is that? Oh, it's a book I found in your library, sir. Polly Albion by Michael Drayton, 1622. You have a serious taste in reading, Father Brown. And you also, Signor Flambeau. Oh, yes, I am particularly there. Indeed so. Monsieur Flambeau is one of our leading Lewis Carroll scholars. Lewis Carroll, I'm afraid. Ah, Father Brown is mocking me. Your Highness, I have been reading a nonsense book about a little girl who walks through a mirror and finds herself in a land where everything is the opposite of what it should be. Reversed. As in a looking glass. Everything reversed. Yes. Yes, that interests me very much. What do you think, Father Brown? Yes, I believe in doomsday. What do you mean, St. Paul? I mean that we here, we see through a glass, darkly. If you like. We're all on the wrong side of the looking glass. In a nonsense world, the things that happen here do not seem to make sense. They make sense somewhere else. Somewhere else, retribution will come to the real offender. Here, it often seems to fall on the wrong person. Yes. So the wrong person. It falls on the wrong person. Yes, I see the wrong person. What is that noise? It would appear you have visitors on the island Prince. Why? I can't see. I only have my reading glasses. It's a boat. Father Brown, there's a fellow standing up and two others rowing. They are landing on the island Prince. Were you expecting anyone? No, is probably nothing. Senor Flambo, may I borrow your boat? I have to find out what it is. Would you like us to go with you? No, there is no need. I will be back in a few minutes. All right. What's happening? Flambeau, I wish you'd give me a chance to get my glasses before you let the Prince have the boat. I don't see a thing. The young man is going up to the Prince. Did you see? Did you see that? No, I did not see it. That young fellow, he slapped the Prince's face. Now the two of them and the others are going into the house. Good heavens. What was it? He said it was Italian, but I couldn't hear. Well, I did hear. The young man simply asked the Prince's name and then introduced himself to the Princess Antonelli. Antonelli. Yes, of course, of course it would be. Look at that. Well, look, Father Flambeau. I cannot see without my glasses. It's Mr. Paul. Where is he going with our boat? Mr. Paul. Mr. Paul. He's going away from us. Mr. Paul. Mr. Paul. Stop. Stop. Mr. Pearl. Monsieur Pramvault, I cannot stop. I must get to the police station in the village. I must save my master. I must get to them. Well, let's hope he gets there in time. I wonder why he didn't just telephone. What? What? What's that sound? What? What is it, Flambo? I, I, I don't believe it. But they've come out of the house. The young man and the Prince. And they're fighting a duel with. With rapiers. Mr. De la Fe, You say? Mrs. Anthony, who gave us the coffee, she is really Mrs. Antonelli. The woman with whom the Prince eloped. Yes, the wife of old Antonelli, who went over the cliff in Sicily. And that young man over there fighting a duel with the prince. Who is he? That young man is Antonelli's son, come all the way from Sicily to avenge his father's death. But Mrs. Anthony, I mean, Mrs. Antonelli. How does a prince use her as a servant? The woman he robbed of her husband and her honor? That I do not understand. Exactly. There are many figures de court repers, prince. And also I do not understand why Mr. Paul is so long fetching the police. It only took us five minutes from the village this morning. Oh, my God. What? The passage. Ah, the young man, Father. He is a true master. And he is a youth. And such fire. But the Prince. The prince. He is a champion. Ah, he is tired. He is an old man. A champion. Of course. What a fool I've been. Ah, the prince. He's exhausted. He's pressing. Oh, it's over, I think. Yes, it went right through the heart. I'm sure of it. He must be dead, surely. The Prince is dead. No, no, the prince is not dead. That man is not the Prince. What on earth do you mean? That's what's been worrying me ever since you told the story of the two detectives arresting each other at lunchtime. So that man lying dead there. Our host did not know that anecdote. Yet when he wrote his invitation to you, the real prince referred specifically to the incident, didn't he? Call it the most splendid scene in French history. Then who is the man Antonelli just killed? A champion fencer. The photograph. Don't you remember the photograph? The man in fencing costume with a silver cup. Of course. Captain Stephen Saradin, The Prince's younger brother. The blackmailer. Then I am glad he's dead. Yes, Stephen was the blackmailer, but where is the victim? But now let us pray for Captain Stephen's soul, for he is in great need of our prayers. Well, thank you for your statement, Mr. Flambeau. Oh, and one other thing. Yes, Sergeant? We've got your boat, sir, safe and sound. If you'd like to collect it later. Well, if you'll excuse me, sir. Yes. Goodbye, Vigor. Oh, yes. Well, Father Brown, I've given my statement to the police as clearly and accurately as I can, but I still don't know what really happened. Well, I think both the Saradin brothers were evil. But one ugly day, the Captain got his hold on his elder brother, the Prince. I imagine he had somehow discovered the truth about the Sicilian affair and could prove that the Prince had murdered old Antonelli in the mountains. Aha. And so he raked in the hush money. Yes, as you say, until the Prince's splendid fortune began to look a little foolish. But, of course, the Prince had another burden. Some years ago, he learns that Antonelli's son has been trained in the savage Sicilian Code and lives only to avenge his murdered father. So the prince flees to this hidden away spot and lives in terror with his bully boys and his dogs and his mirrors and windows that give him an all round view of the broad. That is in effect, his moat. Of course. And then, quite recently, he has his inspiration. Come with me. I'll just show you something. What is it, Father? I see here through the French windows in the dining room, it's Mr. Paul. And what a banquet. But what has he got to celebrate? If only he'd been quicker getting the police, his master would be alive and young Antonelli wouldn't be charged with murder. What does he mean by it? Why don't you ask him? I will. I say, Mr. Pearl, would you please explain to me what Sir Floy have said? Some champagne? Oh, be my guest. Please. I owe you a great debt. How could you steal your master's supper? Monsieur Flambeau, like you, I have stolen a great many things in my life. This dinner. I did not steal the dinner. The house and the garden belong to me. You mean Prince Paul Saradin? Are those old? And now, if you will not join me for supper, perhaps you will be good enough to close the French windows as you leave. I am not as young as I was. And the evening breezes blow chill. Mon Dieu. Mon Dieu. Mon Dieu. You see? But. But what did he mean, he owes me a debt? Well, I guess that he got the idea from you, from the way you got the two detectives to arrest each other. Sometimes it's better to have two enemies than one. No doubt he sent Captain Stephen some money with a letter saying roughly. Oh, I'm cleaned out. I still have a little house in Norfolk with a decent cellar. If you want more from me, you must take that. I and Mrs. Antonelli will live here quietly as your servant. Well, what an offer to a younger brother who had always envied the heir. I see. And the brothers were always similar in appearance. So Paul shaved his his beard and then made sure young Antonelli learned his address. And he knew that eventually the captain would walk onto the young man's sword. Yes, but how did Paul. I suppose we must call him Prince Paul. How did he know young Antonelli would win the duel? Well, I. I don't think he expected a formal duel. That's not the usual way of these vendettas. So when he realized there was to be a duel, he fled in your boat before Antonelli could discover who he was. But it was far from hopeless. And so Stephen, who was A brilliant fencer and an adventurer, trusted to his luck and his fine fencing. But he was not to know how skilful young Antonelli would be. But he lost. And as soon as he saw it, Mr. Paul, who was no doubt conceited, concealed in the reeds opposite, went and informed the police. Yes, yes. You see, he knows that Antonelli will hold his tongue and be hanged. Well, he would not break the omerta and tell tales on his family in a court of law. Listen to that. He's laughing. What a horrible laugh. Just like his brothers. And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? O fraptious day. Kalu kale. He chortled in his joy. Oh, it's all a dream, Father. It must be a dream from which I am going to wake up in a moment. Indeed, perhaps it is. It's a nice philosophical point. Lewis Carroll was a philosopher by profession, you know. Just give me the book, would you? Yes. Here. Yes, thank you. Here at the end. Yes. Here. Let's consider who it was who dreamed it all. It must have been either me or the Red King. He was part of my dream. But then I was part of his dream. Yes, maybe we are all part of a king's dream, my friend. A king of Kings dream. In the sins of prince sardine by g.t. k. Chesterton, the part of father brown was played by andrew sachs flambeau. Olivier pierre, Mr. Paul garrard green, Mrs. Anthony june barry saradine. Roger hammond, italian and sergeant robin summers. Norfolk tufts, peter acre and robin summers. The sins of prince saradine was adapted by john scottney and directed a in bristol by alec reid. 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