DER BELGIER : HYPNOSE #krimihörspiel #retro #kopfkino KLAUS HÖHNE

Kopfkino at Hör mal zu. Thanks for your like. Hör mal zu presents The Belgian. A little man with a big combination fork. Ach, Sie versuchen es gar nicht, Mr. Poirot. Miss Lemont, ich bin absolut überzeugt, dass Sie beherrschen die Kunst der Hypnose. Und ich lehne das auch in keiner Weise ab. Aber bei einer Person, deren Charakter so gefestigt ist, deren Intellekt so brillant... Überlegen Sie einmal, wie nützlich Hypnose für Ihre Ermittlungen sein könnte. Na schön. Wenn Ihnen das gefällt, fahren Sie fort. Entspannen Sie sich. Entspannen Sie sich. Ihre Augenlider fühlen sich ganz schwer an. Sie schlafen nun ruhig ein. Was geht hier vor? Bitte, Captain Hastings. Oh, Verzeihung. Ich wollte nur wissen, wann Sie morgen früh zum Captain's Pokal in Abbots Cross aufbrechen wollen. Mr. Poirot hat nichts davon erwähnt. Natürlich habe ich es erwähnt, aber Sie haben es nicht eingetragen. Mr. Poirot, ich gebe mir die größte Mühe, behilflich zu sein. Miss LeMond, dafür bin ich Ihnen wirklich dankbar, aber ich brauche keine Hypnose. Ich benutze lieber meine kleinen grauen Zellen. Hastings, gut, dass Sie da sind. Ich dachte mir, wir starten heute einmal früh in den Tag. Was ist denn dieser Captain's Pokal? Nun, das ist ein Golfturnier. Es geht über zwei Tage. Ein Freund von mir, Charles Leverson, hat mich dazu eingeladen. Sind Sie nicht viel zu beschäftigt, um ein Golfturnier zu besuchen, Monsieur Poirot? Ja, in der Tat, Miss LeMond, aber das ist eine Einleitung, der ich nicht widerstehen konnte. Der Onkel von Monsieur Leverson ist Sir Ruben Estrell. Wir werden heute Abend mit ihm dinieren. Der Brief an die EG Farben muss heute noch raus. Ich habe nachgedacht, Ruben. Ich bin nicht sicher, ob das richtig ist. Für das Denken bin ich zuständig. Aber als dein Partner habe ich das Recht, meine Meinung zu äußern. Als mein Junior-Partner hast du das Recht, das zu tun, was ich sage. Victor, glaube nicht, dass du alle Freiheiten hast, nur weil du mein Bruder bist. Tja, was für ein Sorgstall, nicht wahr? Da haben Sie leider Gottes recht, Sir Ruben. Sagen Sie mir nicht, das war ein Versehen. Das ist Ihre verdammte Nachlässigkeit. Nein, Sir. Das war auch kein Versehen. Tja, sieht aus, als wären unsere Gegner nicht die schlechtesten, Charles. Ach, keine Sorge, lieber Freund. Ich habe tagelang geübt und außerdem kenne ich diese Greensky, meine besten Tasse. Das nenne ich Ingabe. Spielen Sie Golf, Mr. Poirot? C'est tout, Monsieur Leverson. Ich muss zugeben, mein Interesse gilt eher den schönen Künsten. Charles! Endlich bin ich da. Viel Glück. Danke, Lily. Miss Lily Margrave. Sie begleitet meine Tante. Darf ich vorstellen, das ist mein Partner, Captain Hastings. Hallo, Miss Margrave. Hallo, freut mich sehr. Und das ist Mr. Arthur Poirot. Enchanté, mademoiselle. Guten Tag, Monsieur Poirot. Als Charles mir erzählte, Sie würden mit uns essen, habe ich mich sehr gefreut. Ich habe Prefuses für dieses Wochenende eingeladen. Wir besprechen, was noch zu machen ist. Er wird bis zum Dinner bleiben. Wir haben doch schon längst Dinner-Gäste. Das kommt verdammt ungelegen. Ich hatte dir das angekündigt. Die Freunde von Charles kommen. Charles nimmt sich ein bisschen viel heraus. Verzeihung, Sir. Sir Ruben würde gern mit Ihnen sprechen. Er ist im Billardzimmer. Ich danke Ihnen, Parsons. Du wolltest mich sprechen, Onkel. Ja, und du weißt auch weswegen. Du hattest eine Woche Bedenkzeit. Ich habe intensiv darüber nachgedacht. Aber, naja, mich in den Dienst deiner Firma zu stellen, ist absolut nicht mein Lebensziel. Oh, oh. Und was genau wäre dann dein Lebensziel? Ehrlich gesagt, habe ich mir überlegt, ob ich nicht Golfprofi werden soll. Was? Golfprofi? So stellst du dir dein Berufsleben vor? Ja, darum bin ich richtig froh. Tja, sie muss sich geirrt haben. Sie ist nicht die Einzige, die manchmal ein Irrtum begeht, Miss Margrave. Und das ist nicht das erste Mal, dass ich sie dabei ertappe, wie sie in meinen Papieren rumschnüffeln. Ich habe keine Ahnung, wovon Sie sprechen, Sir. Nein. Bitte lassen Sie meinen Arm los. Ich will, dass Sie dieses Haus verlassen, und zwar schon am Montagfrüh. Ihre Dienste werden in meinem Haus nicht mehr benötigt. Krieg, Poirot. Das habe ich immer gesagt. Ich meine, es wird Krieg geben. Bald ist es soweit. Meine Prognose wird sich erfüllen. Und wer wird unsere Gegner sein, Monsieur Ruben? Deutschland natürlich. Die rüsten auf und bedrohen ihre Nachbarn. Die beherrschen ganz Europa, bevor wir es merken. Wahrscheinlich fangen sie mit ihrem Land an, Belgien. Das wird schnell gehen. Sie mögen mir verzeihen, Sir Ruben, wenn ich diese Ansicht von Ihnen nicht so ganz teilen kann. Ich musste am eigenen Leib erfahren, die schrecklichen Zerstörungen im Krieg mit den Deutschen. Krieg ist nicht unbedingt ein schönes Geschäft. Aber es ist ein Geschäft. Krieg und Chemikalien gehen Hand in Handschuh. Es gibt bei weitem wichtigere Dinge als das Geschäftemachen. Es würde nicht nur die Wirtschaft davon profitieren. Denken Sie an die großen Fortschritte, die die Wissenschaft machen würde. Neue Treibstoffe und neue Legierungen. Sie wirkt Wunder für die Volkswirtschaft. Wissen Sie, wie viele Arbeitslose wir heutzutage haben? Mehr als eine Million. Mehr als eine Million Schnorrer, die von der Wohlfahrt leben. Krieg scheint mir eine ziemlich drastische Lösung zu sein. Ich denke, da hat Victor völlig recht. Das war mir klar, Nancy. Niemals den Tatsachen ins Auge sehen, nicht wahr? Du bist eine gute Schauspielerin. Können wir nicht über etwas Angenehmeres reden? Exquisit. Parfait. Oh, mon dieu. Eistings, das ist ohne Zweifel ein Werk von Auguste Clouet. Und Auguste Clouet ist einer der besten Bildauer in Liège. Faszinierend. Ah, magnifique. C'est incroyable. Ein Tindemann? Ein original Jules Tindemann? Die gesamte Sammlung ist wirklich umwerfend. Ach was? Ich hab sie auch unglaublich günstig bekommen. Ich hoffe, ich kann sie verkaufen. Aber mit Gewinn. Wie können Sie auf diese Wunderwerke verzichten? Verzichten? Ach, wenn Sie mich fragen, kann der Käufer den Plunder einschmelzen. Ja, ich denke, ich sollte nun etwas ruhen. Vielen Dank für diesen äußerst reizenden Abend, Lady Estrell. Gute Nacht, Mr. Trafuses. Das war's für heute passend. Vielen Dank, Lady Estrell. Verraten Sie mir, Monsieur Leverson, dafür, dass Ihre Onkel in den Adelsstand eroben wurde, muss er doch eine bestimmte herausragende Leistung erbracht haben. Er hat dafür bezahlt, wie für alles andere auch. Der Mann ist ein Monster. Ein Betrüger und ein Lügner. Ein Lügner, Mr. Poirot. Ich bin überrascht, dass es Lady Estrell mit ihm aushält. Ich arbeite nicht in seiner blöden Chemiefabrik. Das wird er schon sehen. Ein kräftiger Hieb auf den Kopf und es war vorbei. Da liegt die Mordwaffe. Wenn ich Sie etwas fragen dürfte, in welchem Zustand befand sich Mr. Leverson, als er Sie gestern Abend verließ? In einem Zustand höchst bedauerlicher Trunkenheit. Wieso, fragen Sie? Er war offensichtlich derjenige, der seinen Onkel als letzter lebend gesehen hat. Passend, der Butler hörte, wie sich Mr. Leverson heftig mit seinem Onkel gestritten hat. Er hörte leider nicht, worum es ging. Sie haben sicher Mr. Leverson bereits dazu befragt. Natürlich, Sir. Er gab zu, dass er Streit mit seinem Onkel hatte. Aber er sagte, Sie hätten sich später wieder versöhnt. Sagen Sie, Mr. Estrell, wann haben Sie Sir Rubens Arbeitszimmer gestern verlassen? Das war ungefähr um viertel nach elf. Wir haben noch ein paar geschäftliche Dinge besprochen. Verzeihen Sie bitte, Lady Estrell. Mr. Leverson's Schlafzimmertüre ist offensichtlich abgeschlossen. Wenn er im Affekt gehandelt hat, wird Charles nur wegen Totschlags angekündigt. Aber er hat's nicht getan, Victor. Oh, excusez-moi. Sie glauben es doch auch nicht, oder, Mr. Poirot? Was glaube ich nicht, Lady Estrell? Dass Charles meinen Mann umgebracht hat. Ich weiß, ich weiß, dass die Fakten gegen ihn sprechen, aber ich sage Ihnen, Mr. Poirot, ich sage Ihnen, er ist unschuldig. Untergrund für Ihre Gewissheit, Lady Estrell? Intuition. Ah, yes. Die weibliche Intuition, also. Lady Estrell, wären Sie so freundlich und sagen mir die letzte Wille Ihres Ehemannes, also sein Vermögen, wem wollte er es vermachen? Zur Hälfte mir, zur Hälfte Victor. Und Mr. Leverson? Tja, seine Mutter, Rubens Schwester, wusste, dass er ein sprunghafter Mensch war. Also gab sie ihre Nachlassin Rubens Hände unter der Bedingung, dass er Charles angemessen vergütet. Er hat es ihr auf ihrem Totenbett versprochen. Hat er es eingehalten? Ja, bis zum gestrigen Tag. Mein Mann drohte damit, Charles kein Geld mehr zu geben, wenn er nicht endlich in der Firma anfängt. Ich verstehe. Sagen Sie, Lady Estrell, gestern Abend haben Sie Ihren Mann in die Arbeitszimmer aufgesucht. Worum ging es? Oh, da haben wir über eine Hausangestellte gesprochen. Sie hatten einen Streit? Er erhob völlig absurde Beschuldigungen gegen unsere Hausangestellte, Lily. Er hat gesagt, sie würde in seinen privaten Papieren herumsuchen und spionieren. Für mich ist sie fast so etwas wie eine Nichte. Charles ist ebenfalls sehr angetan von ihr. Und außerdem hatte sie hervorragende Referenzen. Ich weiß nicht, wie es so weit kommen konnte, Gladys. Polizisten und Detektive in jeder Ecke des Hauses. Ganz bestimmt kommt die Presse auch noch. Glauben Sie, ich komme mit Bild in die Zeitung, Mr. Parsons? Mr. Parsons, können wir uns kurz unterhalten? Gerne. Entschuldigen Sie uns, Mr. Parsons. Ich irrte, Sie waren gestern Nacht Zeuge einer Meinungsverschiedenheit zwischen Mr. Leverson und Sir Ruben. Ja, Sir. Mr. Leverson hat Sir Ruben angeschrien. Dann gab es ein dumpfes Geräusch und kurz darauf hat er gerufen, Mein Gott! Sind Sie daraufhin die Grund für diese Störung nachgegangen? Ja, Sir. Ich trat aus meinem Zimmer. Da vernahm ich Schritte auf der hinteren Treppe. Und dann hat Mr. Leverson gerufen, es ist alles in Ordnung. Und dann ging er davon, pfeifend, als wäre nichts gewesen. Au! Was machst du denn wieder, Gladys? Ich hab mich geschnitten, Sir. Da steckt ein Metallstück in der Tischplatte. Erlauben Sie, Mademoiselle. Voila. Ihre geschäftliche Besprechung mit Ihrem Bruder Sir Ruben, sie verlief freundschaftlich? Ja, wieso denn nicht? Weil ich bei die Abendessen eine gewisse Spannung bemerkte. Ja, na gut. Wir hatten eine Meinungsverschiedenheit. Also ein Streit? So würde ich es nicht nennen. Eine witzige Diskussion. Es ging um dieses Material. Wir haben einen synthetischen Gummi entwickelt. Astopren. Ein bemerkenswerter Stoff. Er besteht aus Öl. Unglaubliche Eigenschaften. Praktisch unverstörbar. Das Zeug verschleißt kaum. Ideal für Automobilreifen. Ruben hatte vor, die Lizenzrechte für die Produktion an die IG Farben zu verkaufen. Kennen Sie die? Oh ja, natürlich. Das ist der größte Chemieproduzent in Deutschland. Sie hatten dagegen Einwände? Das ist ja nun belanglos. Ich werde den Vertrag annullieren. Ich möchte herausfinden, wo Sie alle zum Zeitpunkt des Mordes waren. I was already asleep in bed. I went to my room shortly after you left. And left in the morning? Quite right. Before breakfast. You spoke during dinner about the scientific developments in Germany. Oh, indeed. Do you know the country? Actually, I have studied and worked in Germany for several years. You have many friends there. Oh, I keep in touch with my colleagues. Well, if you have no further questions... Thank you, Mr. Trefussis. I am very sorry to have disturbed you. Is that blood, Poirot? Yes, Aistings, but it is not mine. Gladys, the maid, cut herself at the tip of the knife which was on the table of Victor Estrell. Do you suspect him? I am certain that your friend Sir Charles is the murderer. Aistings, Lady Estrell is convinced of his innocence. I did not know that you have a lot of intuition. Tell me the truth, Charles. What did you lose? When I came back from the golf club, I went into his study. So, Mr. Estrell was already dead when you found him. But why did you run away then? Well, when the maid saw all the blood, I panicked. You see, I knew that you would not believe me. I mean, who would? Poirot, perhaps. You are tired. Very tired. Your eyelids are getting heavy. You are tired. You are falling asleep. This is completely absurd. Relax. You are falling into a deep sleep. Lady Estrell, you are falling into a deep sleep. You can hear me well. And you can answer my questions. I can hear you. And I can answer your questions. Am I asleep? Quite right. You had a little nap. And did I say anything? Not as much as I would have liked. On the evening of the tragedy, you went to bed like me, before Lady Estrell visited the study, right? Yes. But you left your room at some point. No. Were you in the study during the evening? No. Not at any time. How strange. My real name is Lily Naylor. Humphrey is my brother. And you, Monsieur Naylor, are a research student at the Imperial College? Yes. In polymer chemistry. The molecular forms of self-repeating ions. We are talking about synthetic rubber. In the previous case, yes. I managed to break through a chemical bond. It wasn't quite perfect, but almost. The problem was that investments would have been necessary to further develop the potential of the substance. So he cheated on me. But I couldn't prove it. And you, Mademoiselle Naylor, are all your references real? Oh, yes. Of course, sir. Monsieur Estwell, would you be so kind to tell us about Monsieur Naylor? I hear you and your brother rejected his offer. I wanted to talk Ruben out of it, but he said Naylor's results wouldn't be proven. Our lab took over the project. Well, I admit there were still some problems to solve. Let's go back to the night of the murder. Lady Estwell, when you were hypnotized, you gave it to someone who was behind the curtain. Not behind the curtain. Behind this curtain. Oh, my God! Stay calm, Madame. Captain Estings? Merci. Maybe you can tell us who was hiding behind the curtain, Monsieur Naylor. It wasn't me. I told you. After I met Lily in the garden, I went back to my hotel. Mesdames et messieurs, I studied psychology. And during this case, I didn't look for a man or a woman with such a temperament. Because such a temperament would be safer than Venti. No. I was looking for a person who had a lot of patience. It was you who were hiding behind the curtain. You murdered Monsieur Estwell. Monsieur Trefusis. Why should I have killed him? In the Astoprine file, I found a contract that had your signature on it. From this, it is clear that you were involved in the further development of Monsieur Naylor's invention. He was a conman. A liar. And a scoundrel. I think there are few people who are not of your opinion as far as Sir Ruben's character is concerned. Captain Estings. A hole in one, Captain Estings. A hole in one. Miss Lemont, Captain Estings That's enough, Porro. Listen up, presents The Belgian. A little man with a big combination fork. My friends, I hope you allow me to call you that. After all, I am the one who pays you every day. Ha, ha, ha, ha. In 1935, we sold more pastries than in the entire history of our house. Nevertheless, there are still some of you who are eternally dissatisfied who try to persuade you that you were not doing well. These are liars. And now, let us move on to more pleasant things. And I stand here before you today to open another modern department of our large company. I emphasize, this is a partnership. A partnership between the Fahri family and us, the ordinary people of the local community. Damn it. This is your chance. What? A purchase for life. Shoes that fit, hand-sewn and foot-sized. Marriages are fun with shoes to size. Send this card back and our representative will contact you. Shoes to size. That doesn't sound bad at all. A typewriter to size. That would be more important now. I'm looking for it. How? Since last Easter, I've been telling Mr. Porro that we need a new typewriter. Mr. Porro is not petty. He says it's economical. The typewriter comes from the landlord. He will know why he left it there. A blessing for us. Who is Benedikt Farley? No idea. Oh, Farley is Pasteten. Pasteten? Why? Dear sir, Mr. Benedikt Farley would like to ask you for advice. If possible, please come to the address mentioned above on Thursday at 9.30 a.m. in Klammern tomorrow. Your correspondent, Jugo Kornwörfi, secretary. Please bring this letter. Please repeat that, Hastings. Dear sir, Mr... No, no, no. Just the post-it. Please bring this letter. Why? What? Why, Hastings? Interesting lines. Really? I find them boring. Miss Lemmon says he makes pastetes. Makes pastetes? Hastings says Benedikt Farley makes pastetes as if you said Wagner only writes sixteenth notes. So the pastetes are good? No, terrible. But there are many of them. I find it a bit strange. Excuse me, sir, but I have to ask you for a letter. Pardon? Oh, yes. Yes. The one you asked for, sir. So, you are Hercule Poirot, yes? Monsieur. Take a seat. Sit down. You wanted a consultation, Monsieur Farley? I always dream the same dream. Night after night. I sit in my room next door. I sit at my desk and write. Right in front of me is a clock. I stare at it. I see the time. It is exactly twenty-eight minutes after twelve. It is always the same time. Do you understand? And when I see the time, Poirot, then I know I have to do it. Exactly twenty-eight minutes after twelve, I open the second drawer on the bottom right at my desk and take out a revolver from it. I load it and go over to the window. I shoot myself. I slowly lead the revolver to my lap and I shoot myself. I already consulted a specialist in the Harley Street. And what did the specialist say? Something completely grotesque. He said my life was so unbearable for me that he wanted to end it voluntarily. He is an idiot. Why should I kill myself? I am one of the richest men in the country. I have everything I can wish for. I am a very happy man. What role do you play here, Monsieur Farley? Maybe I should be killed, Mr. Poirot. Would it be possible in this way? Hypnosis, you mean? That's exactly what I want. Who do you suspect he wants to kill you, Monsieur? Nobody. Nobody at all. That means you can't imagine anyone. No, I can't. Show me the backdrop of the drama. The table, the clock, the revolver. You can't see what you don't already know in the room next door. But I would like to talk to you in private. That's not necessary. I just wanted to hear your opinion. How can I express an opinion with such insufficient facts? That would be all. You know the facts and can't derive anything from them. The matter would be done. Send me the bill for your consultation. I will not refuse. Wait. The letter. Give it back. The letter of your secretary? Yes. Excuse me a thousand times, Monsieur. What? I made a mistake. The letter I gave him was a letter from my landlord. This is your letter. Such mistakes should not happen to you. Au revoir, Monsieur. Make sure that these documents are only on Lidenhall Street until 13 o'clock. Move a little! Run! Excuse me, sir. Mr. Conway said that you would give us a moment of your precious time. What now? He said 12 o'clock. He did, he did. He is very busy. Let's sit down again. Just be quiet. I can't write like that, Mr. Poirot. I have not grown physically and mentally with this machine. But you have never complained. In the past six months, I have only complained. No. It's clear, Poirot. Does that mean you have allied with me? Not that. Well, don't I do my best to make you happy? I don't want to be happy here. I want a new machine. Poirot? Ah, Chief Inspector Jabb. My old friend. I am in Farley's apartment, Poirot. In Benedikt Farley's apartment. I would like to ask you to come here. I have heard a strange story. And I have never heard such nonsense. My father did not have time for fairy tales and such nonsense. Nevertheless, it is what he told me. Yes, he told it to me, too. It worried him very much. Well, I suspected metabolic disorders. I asked him to consult Dr. Stillingfleet. He did not. Mr. Poirot's words took him to Harley Street. Yes, he said it to a specialist. Did anyone of you know who the specialist was? I doubt that he consulted anyone at all. And did he never talk to you about the dream? No. With you, Mr. Conversey? No, he did not talk to me about it. I only wrote the letter to him according to his dictation. I had no idea what this consultation was about. I suspect it was about irregularities in the company. I see. Inspector Jabb. What happened before the death of Mr. Benedict Farley? Well, Mr. Farley wanted to receive three representatives of the workers. It was about proposals for the formation of a union. Crazy people. Yes, something like that. Shortly before 1 p.m., Mr. Conversey came out of his room and went to see Mr. Farley. He could not find him anywhere and thought the room was empty. Then he noticed a boot, something from Farley's desk. And what happened then? I ran out of the room and said to the butler, Call Dr. Stilling, quickly. He... Did it? And the time of death, doctor? I examined the body at 1 3.32 p.m. Farley had been dead for at least an hour. The death could have occurred at 12.28 p.m. As in the dream. Any fingerprints on the revolver? Only his own. And please, what about the revolver itself? Well, it was from his desk. Again, as he told you. Mrs. Farley has identified him. Thank you. One more thing, this is the only access to the room. Well, apart from the windows, I assume. Hard to imagine that someone climbed up here. Strange that Farley chose this room as his study. With regard to this white, bare wall out there. Perhaps this wall is somehow important. Do you mean psychologically? Perhaps. 28 minutes after 12, I open the second drawer at the bottom right of my desk, take a revolver from him, load it, then I go over to the window, and then... and then I shoot myself. I lead the revolver into my sleep and shoot myself. I should say there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of the prediction in the dream, Inspector. That is, we can assume that Benedict Farley committed suicide? Well, actually, there is no doubt about that. Except for one point. And that would be? The letter to you. Ah, I see. If Hercule Poirot is involved, it has to be a murder, right? Hello, Mr. Poirot. Would you like to try it? No, no, no. Thank you very much, Mademoiselle. Basically, Hercule Poirot is a peaceful person. But I would like to ask you a few questions. Go ahead. Did you know about your father's revolver in his desk? No. Where were you and your mother? Sorry, I mean your stepmother. Is that correct? Yes, Louise is my father's second wife. She is only eight years older than me. So, where were you both on Thursday night last week? Thursday? We were in the theater and watched T.A.M.S. And your father didn't want to accompany you? He never went to the theater. Wasn't he a sociable person? My father was not only unsociable, but also extremely unpleasant. That's a harsh criticism, Mademoiselle. I don't want to waste your time, Mr. Poirot. Because I know what you want from him. I live here because I have no money to live elsewhere. There is a man I want to marry. A poor man. My father made sure that he was unemployed. He wanted something better for me. So he settled for his inheritance. Do you keep your father's fortune? Yes. He left my stepmother, Louise, a quarter of a million, tax-free. Some others were also considered, but the lion's share is mine. You see, Mr. Poirot, I had reason to wish for my father's death. I also see, Mademoiselle, that you also inherited your father's intelligence. He had intelligence, but he only used it badly. He was without humanity. Any more questions? Yes. How bad was your father's eyesight? He saw almost nothing without the strong glasses. He always saw badly, even as a child. And with glasses? Oh, of course he could see quite well. Merci. In order, Constable. Tell Sergeant Bull that it will take longer. Yes, sir. Ah, Mrs. Farley. I have another question. Yes? Was your husband ever hypnotized? I don't think so. Was he interested in something like hypnosis? No. Ah, this terrible dream. It's horrible to have this terrible dream again and again, night after night. It's as if he had chased him to his death. Did you ever have the impression that your husband could have tried to kill himself? No. Well, sometimes he was kind of confused. Nonsense! Father was far too much of himself to think of suicide. You don't know everything, Joanna. At least I know that. Pardon, Madame Farley. How many glasses did your husband have and did he use them all? Glasses? Yes, yes. An important aspect. I don't know. Three, four. Ah, merci. Behind this wall are the nards. They were made for Mr. Farley's wealth. I think that's why he set up his office here. Merci. I think if this man could talk, he would have a lot to tell us. Yes. Monsieur Conversy. When I was here last Thursday evening, I wasn't allowed into Monsieur Farley's room. No. I had ordered Holmes to bring you here. Do you have an explanation for why? I never asked a question to Mr. Farley. Ah, no, no, no, no. Did the visitor always come to your office? Quite often. Especially visitors who had never been here before. I see. Thank you very much, Monsieur Conversy. I say suicide. He was alone in his room and was found with a revolver in his hand. And no one entered or left the room when it happened. What would you deduce from that, Chief Inspector? Well, that there is no other possibility, except suicide. On the contrary. It is a very unusual, and also extremely sophisticated murder. Sophisticated? How and who? It's too early for that, Chief Inspector. I'll give you the answer now. Oh, no. Well, let's give the little grey cells some time to do their job. Just be patient, Poirot. You've always been able to rely on them. Possibly they are already suffering from old age. A warning, the first victim of my life change. Because it was exhausting. Exhausting, Poirot? Exhausting is probably not the right word. Oh, she should have seen me when I was young. And I was young. Really? It's over, Hastings. Well, in the end we all get the bill. Yes, maybe. I'll have another herbal tea. This has to be done very quickly. At 12.15 the ovens are closed and sealed. At 12.30 we start the baking process. If that didn't work, Mr. Fahle was faster than the fire brigade on the phone. Did he come here regularly to check the factory? No, no. Not in the last six, seven years. At least not regularly. But he always knew if the baking process had started on time. In the office we always said, the boss is a clairvoyant, at least when it comes to filled pastries. Yes, of course it was just a little joke. After baking, which, if all goes well, takes about an hour and a half, the ovens are opened and the things are brought around the corner. That means to the dealers. I wondered what was so extraordinary about this case. Well, the dream, I mean. If we didn't have your word, Poirot, then... Exactly. The story of the dream was crucial. And something else plays a not unimportant role. The place where this dream was told to me. Mr. Benedict Fahle received me here in his secretary's room. And by no means did he want to allow me to take a single look in his own room next door. Why didn't he want that? I know. Because there was something in that room that I shouldn't have seen. What? I'll get to that. When Mr. Benedict Fahle asked me to return his letter to him, I accidentally handed him a letter from my landlord to me. With one look, he should have realized that it wasn't his letter. Didn't he have his glasses on? Oh, yes, he had them on. And why didn't Mr. Benedict Fahle recognize the difference between these completely different letters? I found myself, Mesami, in the company of a man who could normally see, but had excessive glass pressure. And excessive glasses turn a normal-looking person into a blind man. Isn't that right, Doctor? Well, if they're really excessive glasses, they are. Eh bien. Why wasn't I allowed to go into Mr. Fahle's room that evening? Why not? What was there to see that I wasn't allowed to see at all? Madame et Monsieur. Shall I enlighten you? I wish you did. Voila. What was in Mr. Benedict Fahle's room, and what Mr. Benedict Fahle didn't allow me to see, was... Mr. Benedict Fahle. Yesterday afternoon, there were three witnesses who claimed that no one went into Mr. Benedict Fahle's room or came out of it. Mr. Cornworth, he was in his room next door. And just before 12.28, he got ready. You see, Mr. Cornworth, he knows something. Something that very few people know. He knows that Mr. Benedict Fahle, after all these years, still personally, day by day, controls the functioning of his factory and monitors his employees. We can understand that. How can this King of Pastries monitor his employees without ever leaving the house? Very simple. You see, this unappetizing delicacy is first smoked for an hour before it is baked. The exhaust valves of the huge ovens, which may not even be behind this wall by chance, are briefly tested before the ovens are shipped. Well, if you open these windows and lean out, you can easily be convinced of this fact. And now, I ask you to go to these windows, lean out and look to the right. Mr. Cornworth, you start. Oh, that's nonsense. Maybe. But for my sake. Merci. Alors, viens, viens, viens, Madame Fahle. Oh, for my sake. Now you can already see the steam that is released by the lock and the valves at the eastern end of the building. Nice and good, but what does that tell us? Mr. Cornworth, you shoot him and Fahle falls to the ground. You know, witnesses are excluded from the face of the bare wall. Lies. Ridiculous lies. Well, it just sounds like it was all very far-fetched. Mr. Tremlitt and the other two see Mr. Cornworth go to Mr. Fahle's office and finally come out again with the news of Mr. Fahle's suicide. What they, of course, do not see is how Mr. Cornworth pushes the revolver into Mr. Fahle's hand. Nonsense. It was Mr. Cornworth who wrote me the letter. Mr. Cornworth also gave the instructions for the butler. And he knew. He went into his private rooms, put on a mask there, and then pretended to be Benedikt Fahle. But there were two people who committed this fraud. Mr. Cornworth is one, and the other, Madame Fahle. They are insane. After a while, there would have been a happy ending. A quarter of a million pounds and two hearts intimately bound. Stop him! Well done, monsieur. This is Herbert. Actually, I'm here to burn through with you. Maybe you're happy to hear that this is now superfluous. Why? We could still burn through, if you want. Yes. What should I do with him? Now I'll take care of him. Can I help you, sir? Thank you. Can I take this from you? No, no, no, no. Merci, Hastings. I'm sure I can do the last five steps. Oh, Mr. Poirot, I'll help you. Oh, no, no, no, no, Miss Lemmon. This is for you. Oh, Mr. Poirot, that's not necessary. No, no, don't talk nonsense, Miss Lemmon. Hastings, a knife, please. Merci. There are two reasons why I will never become a millionaire. What reasons? The first one. Never in my life would I have made such a stupid pastete. And the second one. I have too much understanding for my co-workers. Viva!