Endeavour

[Thursday, Morse and Jakes are sitting in a pub having a drink when WPC Trewlove comes in to report the results of some enquiries she has been making]

DI Fred Thursday:
[to Jakes] You sickening for something? A new WPC and no off-colour remarks from you? We'll be sending out for iron tablets!

[first lines]

Dorothea Frazil:
Constable Morse, I loved your singing. Dorothea Frazil. Oxford Mail; we met briefly on the Tremlett case.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Oh, I remember you. Of course.

Dorothea Frazil:
It's a good angle; the singing detective. It's better than the one I've got presently.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I've no wish to see my name in the papers, Miss Frazil.

Dorothea Frazil:
Look, covering for the local arts correspondent's never going to win me the Pulitzer; just give me a quote. I'll see there's something in it for you.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Any such recompense would leave us both open to charges of bribery and corruption. If you'll excuse me. Good evening. Good luck on your story.

DI Fred Thursday:
[to Morse] One day I'll send you out for a routine inquiry and it'll turn out to be just that. But I won't hold my breath. You'd find something suspicious in a saint's sock drawer.

[last lines]

DC Endeavour Morse:
How do you do it? Leave it at the front door?

DI Fred Thursday:
'Cause I have to. Case like this will tear a heart right out of a man. Find something worth defending.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I thought I had! Found something.

DI Fred Thursday:
Music? I suppose music is as good as anything. Go home. Put your best record on. Loud as it'll play. And with every note, you remember: That's something the darkness couldn't take from you. [Thursday walk away, Morse emotionally looks at the view of Oxford and then leaves the rooftop]

Joan Thursday:
[to Morse] What happened to you, then?

DI Fred Thursday:
Not at tea, Joan, thank you.

Joan Thursday:
I was only asking.

DI Fred Thursday:
I know what you were only. There's one rule in this house...

Sam Thursday:
Where do we leave work?

Joan Thursday:
[sarcastically] On the hall stand, by the front door.

DI Fred Thursday:
Right.

Joan Thursday:
Hmph. What can we talk about, then? The weather?

Sam Thursday:
Yeah, "weather" you're too big for a spanking.

Joan Thursday:
I'd like to see you try.

Sam Thursday:
You wait till I'm back from the army.

DI Fred Thursday:
Word of advice, Morse: don't have children; they make you old before your time.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[entering the scene of the crime room] Doctor.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Morse.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Anything?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
By "anything" I presume you mean "anything suspicious". [Morse checks a Diary on the table points at written text "4pm Mr. Nimmo"] No obvious signs of violence. All I can tell you for now is that she died sometime between four and seven o' clock.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[unfolding a letter] I'd be grateful If you could get the teapot taken away for analysis.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
The teapot? People do die of natural causes Morse. You think someone bumped her off the inheritance?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[walking over to another table on which is the teapot next to two cups] I think the table is set for two and her guest hasn't touched their tea. [Morse takes the lid off the teapot and smells the contents] If that's the stuff chimps drink, I'm a Chinaman.

DI Fred Thursday:
[in a car with Morse, who's driving] What do you make to it? Mrs. Madison. Money?

DC Endeavour Morse:
With only a niece and nephew living, I'd expect they stand to inherit.

DI Fred Thursday:
What about your Mr. Nimmo?

DC Endeavour Morse:
No-one's seen him around his flat. But a neighbor said he had music blaring till all hours. Opera, by the sound of it. The entire lease of his lodgings is conducted through a solicitor. They're running down a cheque. Should be able to get a more reliable address from his bank.

DI Fred Thursday:
A weed, Dr. DeBryn said. Not likely to be something she'd have been cultivating, is it?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I wouldn't have thought so. There's something about the Datura I can't quite put my finger on.

DI Fred Thursday:
Well at least the Balfour case looks like it's going to run to form.

DC Endeavour Morse:
The builder? Has he confessed?

DI Fred Thursday:
Not yet. I'm letting him sweat for the minute. I'll have another go after lunch. Speaking of which...

[Thursday takes out his wrapped sandwiches]

DI Fred Thursday:
[interested] Now, let's see. What have I got to look forward to?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[as Thursday sniffs his sandwiches] Luncheon meat.

DI Fred Thursday:
[slightly annoyed] Remind me never to spend Christmas at your house.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Pending toxicological results, I consulted a colleague from the Botanic Gardens. He identified the leaves in the teapot as having come from Datura stramonium.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Datura?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
[taking out a large book and opening it] A weed. Also known as the Thorn Apple or Devil's Snare.

DI Fred Thursday:
Poisonous?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Oh highly toxic. The seed pods in particular. I took the liberty... [Dr. DeBryn turns the book around and shows Morse and Thursday a picture of the Datura] Been used for centuries by the Indians and Chinese as a treatment for Asthma. But the line between a medicinal and a lethal dose is very thin indeed. Contains atropine and scopolamine.

DI Fred Thursday:
The "truth" drug?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
That's right. Taken in an overdose, symptoms include severe hallucinations, seizures, all leading step by jolly step to blindness, coma and an eventual "how do you do" from St. Peter. If one goes in for that sort of thing.

DI Fred Thursday:
[as Bright is examining evidence Morse found] According to Morse, sir, this Lakme girl kills herself by eating leaves from the Datura plant. The same as was used to poison Grace Madison. Makes it two, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[after a pause] What makes two?

DI Fred Thursday:
Two deaths, sir, with a connection to opera. There was a phrase from... What is it?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Otello, sir. By Giuseppe Verdi.

DI Fred Thursday:
Chalked on the door of the goods wagon where we found Evelyn Balfour. "One kiss more". His last words, Morse says.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
You mean Shakespeare's Othello? The blackamoor?

DI Fred Thursday:
That's him sir, yes.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Evelyn Balfour was strangled, sir, like Desdemona, Othello's wife. There was a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth embroidered with the initial D.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[gets up and walks across the room to his desk] I thought we had someone for the er... Balfour killing.

DI Fred Thursday:
All right, Morse. As you were.

[Morse leaves the room as Bright lights a cigarette]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced by anything Morse said] Opera? Good God! A man would have to be some sort of raving lunatic to go to such lengths.

DI Fred Thursday:
[as Bright sits at his desk] If he is a lunatic sir, I'd have to say he's a very clever one. If you've no objection, I'd like to second Morse from General Duties for the duration.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Is that necessary?

DI Fred Thursday:
Specialist knowledge sir - it comes with this sort of thing.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Very well. But for the duration of the inquiry only. I don't want him getting ideas.

DI Fred Thursday:
That's kind of what I'm counting on.

[Bright gives Thursday an unconvinced look]

DI Fred Thursday:
Sir.

[Thursday leaves the room]

DS Peter Jakes:
[in one of the open station rooms] Usual time in the morning is it?

DI Fred Thursday:
[putting his coat on] No, you're all right. Morse can fetch me.

[to Morse]

DI Fred Thursday:
You're off General Duties till further notice. 8.15 sharp. All right.

[Thursday leaves the room, Jakes follows and switches off the light]

DI Fred Thursday:
[putting on his coat whilst reading the anonymous clue] "Near by Libra Idol"?

DS Peter Jakes:
Libra is the Scales, sir. Justice maybe? The idol could be a statue by the Law Courts.

DI Fred Thursday:
[to Morse] Think you can crack it?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I can try.

DS Peter Jakes:
[not convinced] *Try*? You need to do more than *try*.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] All right Jakes. That'll do.

DS Peter Jakes:
[protesting] Meant to be the expert isn't he? Laughing-boy's pin-up...

DI Fred Thursday:
[more seriously] I said, that'll do.

DS Peter Jakes:
I'm thinking of the kiddie sir.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] Us turning on each other's going to help find her is it? Exactly what he wants.

DS Peter Jakes:
[hinting offensive joking] It's *Morse* these messages are meant for, sir. We all know that. He's seen his picture in the paper. One bloody misfit talking to another...

DI Fred Thursday:
[firmly] About your business Sergeant!

Dorothea Frazil:
[at the Police Station with Morse and Thursday] After you called, I spoke to my old editor, Sid Mears. He sent these.

[Frazil gives Morse a large envelope containing photos of a murder]

DC Endeavour Morse:
He knew the Miller case?

Dorothea Frazil:
[sits down and takes out a square-shaped base glass bottle] Perhaps. He remembered something similar around the end of '43. It stuck in his head.

[Frazil takes the glass top off the bottle and pours drinks for herself, Morse and Thursday]

Dorothea Frazil:
Only, the family name was Gull.

[Morse and Thursday examine the photos]

Dorothea Frazil:
They ran a coaching inn by Wolvercote. I say "they". It was just Mason Gull and his mother. Thing is, there was an American general billeted there. This was the build up to D-Day, don't forget. Anyway, this general had taken a bit of a shine to Mrs. Gull by all accounts, and that's what led to it.

[Thursday Frazil raise their glasses to each other]

Dorothea Frazil:
Sid and his photographer were amongst the first out to the inn and got those few snaps before the military police descended on the place and turfed them out. In the end, world came down from the War Office - at the very highest level - that the story was to be spiked.

DI Fred Thursday:
D-Day looming. "Dangerous talk costs lives", I suppose.

DC Endeavour Morse:
If his name was Gull, why would Doctor Cronyn know him as Keith Miller?

DI Fred Thursday:
Maybe they changed his name, buried him away in the country somewhere and forgot about him.

Dorothea Frazil:
In any event, Sid never came across a word on any subsequent committal or trial. The boy just disappeared.

[Morse and Thursday look at the photos again]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[realizing the connection after Dr. Cronyn's body is found] It's wasn't Debbie, it was Daniel. Daniel Cronyn. EGBD.

DI Fred Thursday:
Then we need to find whoever F is before the killer does.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[looking at the evidence with Thursday, Jakes and Bright at the Police Station] He played a record. Tosca.

DS Peter Jakes:
[nodding] Tosca?

DC Endeavour Morse:
It's a penny dreadful of a plot. Filled with murder torture and suicide.

DS Peter Jakes:
Right up his street then.

DC Endeavour Morse:
At the climax, the heroine, Floria Tosca hurls herself from the battlements of the Castel Sant'Angelo.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
In summation then, apart from the method by which he means to dispose of this fifth and final victim, we know neither the where, the when nor the *whom* of it.

DS Peter Jakes:
If the killer's sticking to Morse's EGBDF pattern sir, it's got to be someone who's name begins with an F.

[Morse thinks for a moment, then realizes who the killer is]

DC Endeavour Morse:
It's Cronyn.

DS Peter Jakes:
What is?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[walking towards a blackboard, which has the names MASON GULL and KEITH MILLER? written in chalk on it] The murderer. It's Cronyn.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced] I appreciate your work on this Morse, but I think you'll find...

DC Endeavour Morse:
Doctor Cronyn approached us, didn't he sir?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Yes, but...

DC Endeavour Morse:
[confident] He's the one who's had us running around looking for this Keith Miller.

DI Fred Thursday:
[shocked] But Morse!

DC Endeavour Morse:
[confident] It's a joke sir. A blind. Keith Miller doesn't exist sir.

[Morse writes I'M THE KILLER on the blackboard]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[confident] Rearrange the letters of his name and you get... "I'm the killer". He's been toying us us, right from the beginning. Posing as Doctor Cronyn.

[flashbacks of Doctor Cronyn are seen]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
So who is he really?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[pointing to the other name on the blackboard] Mason Gull, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[impressed] Good grief!

DI Fred Thursday:
[confident] Then who's body did we find in Cronyn's consulting rooms?

DS Peter Jakes:
[entering a room in Mason Gull's house] He's been here.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Yeah of course he has. This has been his bolt hole.

DI Fred Thursday:
[picks up a picture] Doctor Cronyn, I presume. The *real* Daniel Cronyn.

[Morse, Jakes and Thursday enter an upstairs room and see the drugs and surgical instruments neatly arranged on the tables]

DC Endeavour Morse:
He's kept him drugged on morphine. [Morse looks towards the windows] Far enough out so that nobody could hear his screams.

DS Peter Jakes:
Why not just kill him straightaway?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Because the body at the consulting rooms had to be fresh.

DI Fred Thursday:
[reading a document] The murder of Mrs. Gull was investigated by Detective Inspector Foxley of Oxford City Police. Two witnesses appeared for the prosecution - slaughterman Benjamin Nimmo, who dropped by the inn for a pint of ale and found the body of Mrs. Gull, and barmaid Gertrude Tate, who was there with her eight-year-old daughter Evelyn.

DS Peter Jakes:
What's the odds Mr. Balfour will confirm his wife's maiden name was Tate?

DI Fred Thursday:
[reads another document as Morse looks at a flyer detailing Philip Madison's recital] The case was heard by His Honour Mr. Justice Madison. Gull's been killing anyone connected with the trial.

DC Endeavour Morse:
He's going after Faye Madison. Now. F for Faye. She's the fifth victim. We need to get officers down to Alfredus College at once. That's why Gull played me Tosca over the telephone. Alfredus College is home to The Oxford Scholars Choral Association. The choir I sing with.

DS Peter Jakes:
So where does Tosca come in?

DC Endeavour Morse:
The Oxford Scholars Choral Association. We sometimes refer to it by acronym - TOSCA.

PC Jim Strange:
[untying Faye in a loft] Don't worry Ms. Madison. You're safe now.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[entering the loft] Where's Cronyn?

Faye Madison:
He told me not worry and went off.

DS Peter Jakes:
[appearing at the top of the ladder] You got her? She all right?

PC Jim Strange:
No harm.

DS Peter Jakes:
[looking around] Where's Inspector Thursday?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[realizing] Scarpia.

PC Jim Strange:
Morse?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[realizing] Oh... Ms. Madison isn't the final victim. This isn't Cronyn's plan. I've made a mistake.

DS Peter Jakes:
F! F for Faye, though!

DC Endeavour Morse:
It's not Faye. It's Fred. Fred Thursday.

[Thursday stands on one of the quad rooftops and Cronyn/Gull appears behind him]

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
Well, here's a how'd you do?

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] Where is she?

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
Oh quite safe. The proverbial sprat, and you the mackerel. How else do you imagine I got you up here. When it comes to a damsel in distress the boys in blue can always by relied upon to act predictably.

[Philip plays his recital on a piano in the main hall as Morse access a rooftop and edges his way along a narrow ledge to get to the roof Thursday and Cronyn/Gull are on]

DI Fred Thursday:
I thought it was Tosca goes off the roof?

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
In Act Three yes, but it's Act Two I've always had in mind. The death of Scarpia - the corrupt and venal Chief of Police - at Tosca's hand. [Cronyn/Gull takes out a knife] I'm afraid that parts are already cast. I've got nothing against you personally. You simply stand in place of the Detective Inspector whose lie's put me away.

DI Fred Thursday:
[realizing] Foxley.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
It should've been him up here with me today. But he died while I was... away.

DI Fred Thursday:
[prepared] Well, what are you waiting for.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
An audience. What else?

DI Fred Thursday:
Where does Morse fit into all this? Got to be about more than torment. You could've killed him at the Bodleian. Why didn't you?

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
Beethoven had his Schindler. Haydn his Griesinger. Every great artist needs a biographer. Someone to bear witness to his greatness and set it down for posterity. How does it feel... to be my crowning achievement? Five's a good number, don't you think? Nice and simple. Count 'em on one hand.

DI Fred Thursday:
You're going to keep this up, I wouldn't mind a draw on my pipe if it's all the same.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[as Cronyn/Gull is handed over to the other officers] All under control Thursday?

DI Fred Thursday:
[straightening his hat] More or less sir, yes.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
[as Thursday takes out his pipe] In lieu of a heart breakfast. By all means.

[Philip Madison continues playing his recital as Morse climbs onto the roof that Thursday and Cronyn/Gull are on]

DI Fred Thursday:
[lights his pipe and speaks with no fear] I've looked into the eyes of far worse than you. People who've committed *real* atrocities. And they were sane. Next to them, you're nothing more than a third-rate freak show! A bearded lady with glue running down her chin.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
[firmly] You won't goad me into recklessness Thursday. I'm serene. And I'll be remembered.

DI Fred Thursday:
[as Morse reaches the section of the rooftop where Thursday and Cronyn/Gull are] A year or two. May be five. Comes to the annals of crime, you're nothing more than a footnote.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
That's where you're wrong. Ten years - less, maybe - they'll certify me cured. I fooled them once. I can do it again.

DI Fred Thursday:
[as Morse approaches] Timely, Morse. Timely. Watch your footing there, it's a bit slippy.

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
[tense] Here comes Spoletta! Right on cue! La commedia e finita!

[In English:
"Comedy and over!"]

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
[to Morse] Scarpia dies, you arrest me. That's how this ends.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Not if I rewrite it!

Dr. Daniel Cronyn:
Then you'd better be quick!

[Cronyn/Gull lunges at Thursday, who blocks his attack and Morse pushes Cronyn/Gull over, who pulls Thursday and Morse with him as Philip finishes his recital to an applauding audience. Thursday arrests Cronyn/Gull as other officers arrive on the rooftop]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[with a slight lisp] My name is Bright. Chief Superintendent Bright. Firstly, I would just like to express my gratitude to Detective Inspector Thursday for holding the fort so admirably pending my arrival. Secondly...

[Morse hurries in]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Secondly, you should be aware that I am putting this station on notice. I do not propose to speak ill of my predecessor, but where there are breaches of procedure of Spanish practices, you will find me a horse of a very different colour. That said, I want you to regard my appointment as a tabula rasa. A clean slate. You play fair by me, then I will play fair by you. Carry on.

[the officers chatter]

DS Peter Jakes:
Around and around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran.

[Morse gives Jakes a serious glance]

DS Peter Jakes:
What?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] Well, that's a bit cheap isn't it?

DS Peter Jakes:
[jokingly] He'd be right up your street, I suppose. Tabula wasa. My Aunt Flo.

DI Fred Thursday:
[standing behind Jakes] If you've no work, Jakes, some will be found for you.

DS Peter Jakes:
[respectfully] Sir.

DI Fred Thursday:
[entering his office, followed by Morse] Don't let them get a rise.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] It's nothing.

DI Fred Thursday:
[sitting at his desk] Insubordination's what it is. By proxy. You're my bagman. I know what's going round the canteen. Job should've gone to a detective sergeant. Well, it didn't. It went to you. You're here on merit. Not that you'd know. You might have found time to run an iron. That shirt looks as though you slept in it.

[Morse adjusts the lower section of his jacket]

DI Fred Thursday:
[cleaning his pipe] First impressions Morse.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[straightening his tie] Right.

[Morse goes up a staircase. A uniformed officer is standing at the top of it]

DC Endeavour Morse:
You're meant to be on the door.

PC Jim Strange:
Sorry. I just come off nights. It's playing havoc with my...

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] I think I can live without the details of your digestive timetable.

PC Jim Strange:
Who are you?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] I could have just wandered in for a bit of housebreaking.

PC Jim Strange:
[seriously] If you're gonna be like that, let's see some identification, matey. Sharpish.

[Morse goes further up the stairs and gives the officer his identification]

PC Jim Strange:
[looking at Morse's identification] Oh. *You're* Morse. Strange.

[Morse takes back his identification]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[pocketing his identification] What is?

PC Jim Strange:
I am. Me. My name. Jim Strange.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
I understand you've a detective constable acting as bagman.

DI Fred Thursday:
Morse, sir. Good man.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
They're all good men, Thursday, but the rank system is there for a purpose.

[Bright opens Morse's file]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Bagman is a detective sergeant's post.

DI Fred Thursday:
He's an exceptional officer, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[reading the file] Barely two weeks in uniform before being transferred to CID. Which, you may rely, means no-one knew what to do with him.

DI Fred Thursday:
Or his talents lay elsewhere.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
A grammar scholarship and a failed degree might impress some, but the truth of it is he lacks experience.

DI Fred Thursday:
I'm bringing him on.

[short pause]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
I'd as soon we didn't get off on the wrong foot, Thursday.

DI Fred Thursday:
Likewise, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
On your own recognisance.

[Bright closes Morse's file]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
And for a probationary period only. The first hint of a hullabaloo, he'll be returned to general duties.

DI Fred Thursday:
Sir.

[Thursday leaves the room]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[walking through the scene of the crime with DI Thursday] No wallet you say? Robbery then.

DI Fred Thursday:
Possibly, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
In any event, I think it best Sergeant Jakes assume management of the incident room for the duration.

DI Fred Thursday:
DC Morse is my bagman, sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Morse may remain as your driver and aide de camp, but a case such as this requires an office of experience or senior rank to coordinate the inquiry. [sees Morse examining a bicycle next to wall] You're giving primary consideration to this bicycle, I take it? Quite right.

DI Fred Thursday:
Sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
I recall a not dissimilar case in Freetown. The usual mammy-palaver. But the killer left his bicycle at the scene. You should be able to trace its owner from the frame number.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Really? In Oxford?

[Bright looks at Morse and Thursday quickly speaks up]

DI Fred Thursday:
What Morse means to say, sir, is that there's probably more cycles hereabouts than anywhere in the country. Bikes get lost, borrowed... stolen. Right?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Yes, sir. But if the registered owner isn't left-handed, then he's probably not our man.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Left-handed?

DI Fred Thursday:
As you'd have noticed, given the opportunity to examine it yourself, the front and rear brakes cables have been swapped over.

DC Endeavour Morse:
He'll also be an older man, and of limited means, possibly.

DS Peter Jakes:
[almost jokingly] How did you get to that, then?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Well, the bike's ancient. But well maintained. Which points to the thrift, I'd have thought. Taken together with evidence of absentmindedness...

Chief Superintendent Bright:
What evidence?

DC Endeavour Morse:
He sometimes forgets to wear his bicycle clip, sir. There are scraps of material torn from his trousers in the gears. One a cavalry twill, the other's a linen. Both black. He wears a subfusc as a matter of habit.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[impatient] A don, then? Hm?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Perhaps, sir. But I think, given the limited means, we are looking for a man of the cloth.

DS Peter Jakes:
[almost laughing] A vicar shooting somebody in a lav?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
I hope you'll eliminate known criminals from your inquiries first, Thursday, before troubling any clergymen, what. Really Constable Morse, you should be on the halls.

DI Fred Thursday:
[sharing a drink with Morse in a pub] When it comes to a bird with a wing down you've got a blind spot a mile wide. It'll be your undoing.

DC Endeavour Morse:
There's a child in this being kept from its mother in case anybody hadn't noticed. If that's a blind spot, then so be it. Derek Clark's lying, sir. He's involved somehow. I know he is.

DI Fred Thursday:
[not convinced] Look, he might not have been entirely straight with us about this Margaret Bell girl, but at the time Monkford was being shot, Derek Clark was being trussed up and beaten senseless at the Post Office.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I don't know.

DI Fred Thursday:
[hinting disappointment] Well, I do. You're being returned to general duties for the present.

[long pause]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Where's this come from? Bright?

DI Fred Thursday:
[quiet but firm] *Mr.* Bright. No, it's my decision. Best you hear it from me. Six months' time, a year, get through your exams, we can look again.

DC Endeavour Morse:
And in the meantime?

DI Fred Thursday:
Learn your trade.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[disappointed] Thanks for the drink.

[Morse gets up and is about to leave, but turns around]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] I'm a good detective.

DI Fred Thursday:
And a poor policeman. No-one can teach you the first. Any fool can learn the second.

DI Fred Thursday:
[after catching Morse questioning Pamela, who is then arrested] Don't you ever stop? What's the matter with you? You've been returned to general duties. What are you about, coming round here?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I think Pamela was having an affair with her brother-in-law.

DI Fred Thursday:
[surprised] You do? Then I'm obliged. I was just going to question her in order to keep Mr. Bright happy. I couldn't think of a motive until now.

DC Endeavour Morse:
What motive?

DI Fred Thursday:
Crime of passion. Never mind it was her brother-in-law she was carrying on with.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[seriously] Well, by that token you should be talking to Mrs. Cartwright. If you're looking for a motive, why not speak to her? Jealousy.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] She doesn't have a conviction for assault and a history of mental instability.

[short pause]

DC Endeavour Morse:
When you search the flat, you're going to find a gun and some ammunition.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] I will, will I? What's that? Sir Edmund's missing revolver?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I'd have thought so.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] And just when were you thinking of mentioning that exactly if I'd have come round?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I need to tell you...

DI Fred Thursday:
[dangerously] Not this time. I don't want to hear it. I'm warning you Morse, for your own sake, stay out of this case. I mean it.

[Morse tries to speak but Thursday silences him]

DI Fred Thursday:
[dangerously] You come within a mile, I'll see you out of the nick so fast your feet won't touch the floor.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[entering the church with DI Thursday and DS Jakes] Perhaps you'd care to explain just what it is you're doing here.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I think I know who killed Cartwright and Monkford, sir.

DI Fred Thursday:
[seriously] Think or know?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[confident] Know.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced at all] What's this? More threadbare legerdemain?

DI Fred Thursday:
[partly convinced that Morse is on to something] Might as well hear him out sir.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
But we're about to charge Pamela Walters, aren't we?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[flashbacks show what Morse explains] Every Friday, Dr. Cartwright went to the East Cowley post office and had a postal order made out to the sum of 10 shillings. Every Monday, that order was cashed by Pamela Sloan.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Why would it matter if he was sending money to his sister-in-law?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Three years ago, Pamela Sloan attempted suicide. Frank Cartwright had been keeping an eye on her, since she moved to London. He found her in the nick of time. His own marriage failing, Cartwright understood Pamela's desperation all too well. Two lonely people in a big city far from home, they looked to one another for companionship, and comfort.

DI Fred Thursday:
[believing Morse] He got her pregnant.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I spoke to the National Registry first thing. There was a man called Gerald Walters who worked at ICI and he did die in a car crash but there was no whirlwind romance with Pamela Sloan. No marriage. For two years, they kept their affair secret. Pamela passed herself off as a young widow and collected Cartwright's weekly postal order. Eventually, someone realised Dr. Cartwright was sending money to a woman who was not his wife. They fired a shot into the dark and hit the bull's-eye. The sender threatened to reveal what he knew to Cartwright's wife and sought to turn it to their own advantage. Cartwright paid off the extortioner with a regular delivery of amphetamines.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
And the Reverend Monkford? How do you explain his involvement?

DC Endeavour Morse:
He came upon Dr. Cartwright's killer at the scene. Unfortunately, the murderer also recognised the Reverend Monkford.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced] You might find this compelling, Thursday, but so far it seems to me nothing but surmise and rank flummery. If he knew who the killer was, why didn't he just come forward?

DC Endeavour Morse:
And explain what he was doing cycling to a public convenience miles from his parish at 10 o'clock on a Summer's evening?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced] You can prove none of it.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Actually, sir, I believe I can.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[not convinced] What are you going to do? Produce some eye witness from thin air?

DC Endeavour Morse:
As a matter of fact, sir, we do have a witness. The Reverend Monkford.

DS Peter Jakes:
[almost jokingly] Shall I send back to the station for a Ouiji board?

DI Fred Thursday:
[knowing Jakes' intention] All right Jakes.

DC Endeavour Morse:
He's left us a message. It's been staring us in the face all along.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
What message?

[Morse points at the Hymn board, which has the numbers 74, 17, 18 and 19 on it]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Hymn numbers?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Actually, sir, that's the last thing they are. The first time I saw it, I thought it odd to have 17, 18 and 19 following on like that. The last time I saw Monkford, he hinted to leave a message. Something that might speak for him. Even if he wrote down what he knew and hid it somewhere, it might be found. And someone did search the vicarage the night he was killed looking for exactly that. Fearful for his life and afraid the truth would die with him, Monkford concealed the killer's identity in the hymn numbers.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Concealed?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I've since found out that Monkford worked on ciphers during the war.

DI Fred Thursday:
You're saying these hymn numbers are some sort of code?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Exactly, sir. Only, I couldn't find the key until now. Actually, it was Strange who hit upon the answer.

[Strange looks surprised but says nothing]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Before taking the cloth, the Reverend Monkford read Chemistry at Beaufort College. You'll find a copy of the Periodic Table hanging in his home.

DI Fred Thursday:
Isn't that a list of the elements, Hydrogen, Carbon, Helium?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Yes, yes of course.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Strange, there's a blackboard there. Could you...? [Strange gets the board] Each element is assigned a symbol: Typically an abbreviation of its name together with a unique one or two-digit atomic number. Can you write these down as I call then off? [Strange cleans the board and writes the elements on the board as Morse calls them out] So, 74 gives us Tungsten. 17, Chlorine. 18, Argon. 19, Potassium. The elements spell out a name.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[looking at the first letters of the elements] T.C.A.P Tucap?

DC Endeavour Morse:
No, not quite, sir, but you're on the right lines.

[Morse walks over to the blackboard and Strange gives him the chalk]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Um, the chemical symbol for Tungsten isn't Tu as you might expect. It's W from the German Wolframite. And Potassium isn't P as you might expect but K after the Latin Kalium. Taken together they're Tungsten...

[close-ups of these four elements and their chemical symbols in the Periodic Table are seen as Morse writes the chemical symbol W]

DC Endeavour Morse:
...Chorine...

[Morse writes the chemical symbol CL on the blackboard]

DC Endeavour Morse:
...Argon...

[Morse writes the chemical symbol AR on the blackboard]

DC Endeavour Morse:
...and Potassium.

[Morse writes the chemical symbol K on the blackboard]

DC Endeavour Morse:
W-C-L-A-R-K. Wallace Clark.

[flashbacks of Wallace Clark committing the murders are seen with close-ups of the Periodic Table]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[almost speechless] Good grief.

DI Fred Thursday:
Derek's father.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
But there's nothing to say he even knew the vicar.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Ivy Clark, sir. Wallace's wife is buried in the churchyard. [Ivy's Clark's tombstone is seen] The next plot but one to Lady Daphne Sloan. Reverend Monkford performed the service.

PC Jim Strange:
[laughs] Bloody hell, matey. That's...

DI Fred Thursday:
[stunned and impressed] Elementary.

[last lines]

DI Fred Thursday:
[after seeing Morse see Pamela and her child safely onto a coach] I heard she was leaving town. It's a good thing you've done there Morse.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I hope so.

DI Fred Thursday:
Run you back to the station?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Thanks, but I've got to get to court. The gas meter committal.

DI Fred Thursday:
Oh, that's today is it?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Mm, this afternoon. I'm going to help Strange make sure the case papers are in order.

DI Fred Thursday:
[impressed] Police work. I'll see you back at the nick, then.

[Morse walks off up the road and Thursday walks away after starting to see that Morse will become a great superior sleuth in the future]

DI Fred Thursday:
[taking out his wrapped sandwiches] Right. What have we got today?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Monday: Cheese and pickle. Tuesday: Lunch meat...

DI Fred Thursday:
[surprised] Don't ruin it. Anticipation's half the fun.

[Thursday unwraps his sandwiches and looks at the filling]

DI Fred Thursday:
[delighted] Cheese and pickle! What do you know?

[in the pub, Jakes carries three glasses of beer to the table:
two pints of bitter for Morse and Thursday and a pint of lighter beer for himself]

DI Fred Thursday:
[to Jakes] What's that, then? *Lager* beer, is it?

[Jakes echoes the advertising slogan]

DS Peter Jakes:
Double Diamond. Works wonders.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[dryly] The wonder is anyone buys the stuff.

[first lines]

Henry Portmore:
At the Round Table there was one seat kept always vacant, reserved by Merlin for the knight destined to claim the Grail and heal the wounded land. The seat was named The Siege Perilous for should any other dare sit therein, it held only death.

DS Peter Jakes:
[entering council flats] Bloody place. Turns my guts. Bleach, sweat, boiled cabbage. And everything on tick. Neverneverland.

[last lines]

DI Gregson:
DC Morse?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Yes?

DI Gregson:
My name is Detective Inspector Gregson of Kidlington CID. Endeavour Morse, I am arresting you for the murder of Chief Constable Rupert Standish.

DC Endeavour Morse:
You're arresting me!

DI Gregson:
You do not have to say anything...

DC Endeavour Morse:
You're...

DI Gregson:
But anything you say will be taken down...

DC Endeavour Morse:
You've made a mistake.

DI Gregson:
and can be used in evidence.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Some kind of a mistake.

DI Gregson:
Take him inside.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[as he is marched away] Get your hands off me. You've made a mistake. Take your hands off me. I'm innocent. I can't go; the boy's here.

DI Fred Thursday:
Funny, it will be twenty-eight years tomorrow since I joined the job. Twenty-eight years to the day, except in the war, of course. All this with the merger put me out of sorts, got me thinking less ahead than behind. I forgot for a minute, it's not about me. It's about them who turn to us for help in time of need: weak, defenseless, old young - especially the young.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Does that mean you've reconsidered?

DI Fred Thursday:
Win would never put up with me under her feet all day. Nah, I was born a copper... and I'll die one I expect.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Ensanguining the skies, how heavily it dies, into the West, away, past touch and sight and sound, not further to be found. How hopeless underground, falls the remorseful day.

DI Fred Thursday:
You know there's no cavalry coming, still time. I won't think the less.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[Shakes head]

DI Fred Thursday:
Till the end then?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Till the end.

[Strange has organised a double date which includes Thursday's daughter, Joan]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[to Strange] Where would you like your ashes scattered?

[Morse meets Max DeBryn, the pathologist, examining a body on a river bank]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Morning.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Not for this poor sod. You are whom?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Morse. Detective Constable. On attachment from Newtown. You're the, you're the pathologist, I presume.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
[jovially] Better hope so, hadn't you. Otherwise I'm making one hell of a mess of your scene of crime. Max DeBryn.

[DeBryn offers his hand for Morse to shake it, then withdraws it as Morse hesitates because he sees the blood on DeBryn's glove]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Is it a scene of crime? Initial reports suggested suicide.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Looks to be. Single entry wound on the right temple. Typical starburst gunpowder pattern on the skin surrounding the wound, together with contact scorching would suggest the weapon was discharged at point-blank range. As you can see.

[Morse looks away in disgust]

DC Endeavour Morse:
I'll take your word for it.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Squeamish, are we? You won't make much of a detective if you're not prepared to look death in the eye.

[Dorothea Frazil looks puzzled]

Dorothea Frazil:
What did you say your name was?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Morse. Why?

Dorothea Frazil:
Have we met?

DC Endeavour Morse:
I, I don't think so.

Dorothea Frazil:
Another life, then.

[Thursday and Morse are questioning Richard Lovell, a government minister, about wild parties such as the one where they suspect Mary Tremlett met her death]

DI Fred Thursday:
She'd be one of the young girls you'll have met at Teddy Samuels' parties. You attended one last Saturday at Wolvercote.

Richard Lovell:
[laughing nervously] I don't think so. Sounds *most* unsavoury. Dear, dear.

DC Endeavour Morse:
"Dear, dear"? A young girl's strangled and left naked in the woods, and all you can say is "dear, dear".

DI Fred Thursday:
Morse. Do you deny you were there, Minister?

Richard Lovell:
Naturally. And unless you have evidence to the contrary... I'm afraid this meeting is at an end.

[last lines]

DC Endeavour Morse:
I was thinking I might pack it all in. Pick up my degree.

DI Fred Thursday:
The world's long on academics, Morse, but woeful short of good detectives. Things as they are, I could use a permanent bagman. I mean... we did pretty well this time out. Give or take. I'd see you right, of course; make sure we get you through your sergeant's exam, eh? With the proper encouragement, who knows? What you got to ask is: where do you see yourself in twenty years?

[long pause as Morse looks in the rear-view mirror of Thursday's car. His reflection is replaced by an image of John Thaw as the older Inspector Morse]

DI Fred Thursday:
Morse? Endeavour!

[first lines]

BBC Announcer:
Good morning, everyone. It's six o'clock on Sunday morning and the BBC Light Programme is beginning another day's broadcasting.

DI Fred Thursday:
There's no overtime.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I realize that.

DI Fred Thursday:
So what is it? Brown-nosing or sucker for punishment? There's no other kind of bloody fool still in the office at this time of night.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Just us.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Finished?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
The hors d'oeuvres. Entr?e this afternoon three o'clock sharp.

DC Endeavour Morse:
You can give me your findings over the telephone, can't you?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
You know, there's a word for people like you, Morse.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Is there?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Necrophobic.

DC Endeavour Morse:
There's a word for people like you too, I imagine. Anglo-Saxon, though, rather than Greek.

[first lines]

Time Clerk:
Morning.

Percy Malleson:
Percy Malleson.

[Alice brings in a vase of flowers]

Johnny Broom:
Morning, Alice. How lovely you look today.

Alice Vexin:
Thank you, Johnny.

Henry Broom:
For Her Highness?

Alice Vexin:
For your wife.

Henry Broom:
Nora can't abide cut flowers.

Johnny Broom:
Or they her. Blooms wither at her passing. They say a scorpion stung her once... and died.

Nora Broom:
I do hope there are sandwiches. There's only so much obsequious insincerity I can take on an empty stomach.

PC Jim Strange:
Did I hear you say pictures? 'S all right for some. What're you going to see?

DC Endeavour Morse:
There's a new Bergman.

PC Jim Strange:
Oh, yeah? I thought she was cracking in Casablanca.

[Johnny Broom drives into the factory in a noisy E-Type Jaguar, hooting at people who get in his way]

Reg Tracepurcel:
There he goes - Turd of Turd Hall.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[satisfied] Her Royal Highness put everyone quite at their ease. A marvellous quality, don't you think?

DI Fred Thursday:
[interested] She spoke to you then, sir?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[delighted] Oh yes. Protocol dictates of course that one has to wait for Her Royal Highness to speak to one first, of course.

[telephone rings]

DS Peter Jakes:
Morse, phone.

[Morse goes to answer the phone]

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[satisfied] "Have you come far?" she said. Just like that. Regular, familiar as you please. "Have you come far?"

DC Endeavour Morse:
[answering the phone] CID. Morse.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[repeating what Her Royal Highness said] "Have you come far?"

DI Fred Thursday:
[interested] What did you say?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[delighted] That I hadn't.

DI Fred Thursday:
One of the memoirs, sir?

Chief Superintendent Bright:
[delighted] Yes I think we can all take pride that everything went off without the slightest hitch.

DC Endeavour Morse:
[hangs up and enters the room] That was British Imperial, sir. A body's been found at the factory. Looks like murder.

[last lines]

DC Endeavour Morse:
[exits the factory and meets DI Thursday after the killer is arrested] You want me to run you back?

DI Fred Thursday:
[after a short pause] Go on then.

[they approach the car]

DI Fred Thursday:
Are you doing anything tonight?

DC Endeavour Morse:
[simply] No.

DI Fred Thursday:
I was after a cod and and two penn'oth. Glad of the company if you'd like to join me.

DC Endeavour Morse:
What? No sandwiches?

DI Fred Thursday:
[surprised] On a Saturday? Talk sense!

[factory workers go back inside the factory as Morse and Thursday get in the car and drive away down a street lined with red, blue and white coloured triangular flags]

[Two porters wheel a washing machine onto the shop floor]

Roy Huggins:
Mr Highbank. Where d'you want this Colston?

Charles Highbank:
Window number four, please, Mr Huggins. Walk this way.

[Highbank walks off, strutting effeminately, hand on hip]

Roy Huggins:
[to his mate] If I could walk that way, I wouldn't need the talcum powder.

[first lines]

Rufus Haldane:
The Greeks called it 'apeiros'. Anaximander of Miletus termed it 'apeiron'. But we generally take it to mean the same thing, which is to say... endless.

DI Fred Thursday:
[unwrapping his sandwiches] Let's see what we shall see.

DC Endeavour Morse:
You'll see ham and tomato. [Thursday finds that combination] Thursday.

DI Fred Thursday:
A policeman's lot is not a happy one, I'm told, but the lot of a policeman's wife hardly gets a mention. But while I've been out, running around, nabbing villains and uh generally playing silly buggers, the real brains of the outfit has made a house a home, rasised two children - our children - seen 'em off to school each morning, clean and smart, and somehow, even with all that to do, there's always been a hot meal for me when I get home. Twenty-five years ago I got the best bit of luck any man ever had. The toast is: my Win.

[last lines]

Luisa Armstrong:
[voiceover of her note to Thursday as Morse reads, then burns it] You should know it was not Ugo betrayed us all those years ago. They said this to spare Francesca. I should have died at the villa Casa Rianca. I have lived with my sin, hidden it from the world. And then I saw you again. I just want to be at peace. Every life holds one great love, one name to hold on to at the end, one face to take into the dark. It was always too late. A number of the garde knew and forgive her. We were young. There was the war. Amore mio.

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Multiple catastrophic injuries, to you, to be going on with. Chapter and verse once I've had a rummage.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Nothing suspicious?

Dr. Max DeBryn:
Only you.

Val Todd:
"Show business", not "show friendship".

[Copley-Barnes is describing the priceless Saxon exhibits which have been stolen from his college, and belittles DS Jakes who doesn't know what he is talking about]

Dr. Matthew Copley-Barnes:
[patronisingly] Strangely enough, I can't imagine that a working knowledge of the Historia Ecclesiastica looms large in the Hendon curriculum.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I can't imagine it would do us very much good if it did.

Dr. Matthew Copley-Barnes:
I beg your pardon.

DC Endeavour Morse:
The Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum, to give it its full title, appeared 335 years before the events with which this exhibition is concerned took place. Venerable the Bede may have been, but not clairvoyant.

[Copley-Barnes looks first gobsmacked and then annoyed that he has met someone who knows even more than himself]

[first lines]

Diana Day:
It gives me great pleasure to launch Berridges' Spring into Summer fashion collection.

Joan Thursday:
You've lost weight! What've they been feeding you out at Whitney?

DC Endeavour Morse:
Mockery and humiliation, mostly.

Monica:
When your friend brought you home the other night, I didn't see a coward; just a man beat up too often and for too long maybe. You're not yellow; you're just blue.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I was wrong, spectacularly so. Worse still, I was disrespectful to you, to Inspector Thursday and to Sergeant Jakes and for that I apologize unreservedly.

Chief Superintendent Bright:
Uh, you, you were not not yourself.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Thank you for saying so, sir, but I suspect the truth is I was myself all to much.

[last lines]

DI Fred Thursday:
Copley-Barnes gave me an earful. Said he'd remember *you*.

DC Endeavour Morse:
Vainglorious fool like that? Doubt it. Too self-obsessed by half. I can't help feeling like I've missed something.

DI Fred Thursday:
You have. Your round. And it wouldn't be the first time. You don't want to let a little tripe-hound like Todd bother you.

DC Endeavour Morse:
I'm not.

DI Fred Thursday:
Good. Right. [unwraps sandwich]

DC Endeavour Morse:
Luncheon meat.

Morse:
" I didn't know you spoke Italian." Thursday: There's more under my hat than nits"