It's from Sutland Yard, two stories from the files of the London police.
Here is your narrator, Twy Brook.
How do you do? This is Twy Brook.
The secret of Sutland Yard that I'm going to tell you today is a closely guarded one.
I'd rather you didn't spread it around if you don't mind.
It seems that towards the end of the last century, the Yard had on its payroll an inspector called Suscovich,
whose devotion to his bank accounts exceeded his devotion to duty.
Let's talk about that thing.
Let me put to you a problem.
How does a parish waiter rise to the title of count, the rank of a barrister at law and the possession of 30,000 pounds?
All this was done by the man whose case book history I'm going to tell you today.
His name was Ori Ferrell, a waiter with ambitions.
Not the usual waiter's ambitions, the setting up of his own cafe.
As he served the customers, Ori's dreams soared far beyond the kitchens and the neat rows of tables.
Nature had bestowed on him certain gifts.
He was handsome, ingratiating, true.
He had a command of languages and, ah, a wonderful way with women.
He used his talents to the full, and he had luck on his side as well.
For instance, he was questioned by Inspector Dresch-Sivitz.
Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about him.
To achieve his ambitions, Ori used two methods, both requiring considerable courage.
Our story opens in the summer of 1867 in that most glamorous of European capitals, France.
At a corner table in one of the boulevard cafes there sits an Englishman with a purpose.
His name is William Cot and his purpose. Ah, we are just about to discover.
Oh, Garton, Garton, come in, monsieur.
At your service, sir.
Uh, Garton, if, uh, uh, the boulevard, uh, would prefer to speak his native tongue.
Oh, you speak English, eh?
Well, then perhaps you're the chap I'm looking for.
You never heard me by any chance?
That is right, sir. Only at your service.
I've been told you're the chap who can help me.
No, but I'd recommend, of course. You'll not find me stingy in it.
I'm here in Paris for a week. It's my first visit, isn't it?
Ah, yes, sir. You wish to be shown beside me?
Now, Henry, I've been told that you know Paris backwards and, uh, well, that's how I want to see it.
But I'm not quite there.
Oh, too subtle for you, I say.
Now, what I mean to say, none of this Eiffel Tower museum stuff for me, I want to see the places one hears about,
the corners of the city hidden from the general run of the tour.
I think I understand, monsieur. You wish to see why we call Paris the city of pleasure, eh?
Ah, yes.
Every kind of pleasure, eh, monsieur?
Oh, ah, ah, ah.
The pleasure of meeting Mr. Cotton was well satisfied with his guide,
who seemed to have an inexhaustible knowledge of the shadier parts of the capital.
For his part, all he was delighted with was his employer,
whom he found to be a wealthy bachelor with no inhibitions about tipping.
Imagine his further delight when, after a few days, the globe-scarphic Englishman,
after a few more permanent and rewarding forms of employment,
that of travelling companion and courier.
All he accepted was a lacrosse, and within a few days, the couple arrives at their first port of call, Constantinople.
This hotel seems quite up to date, Henry.
I expected the place to be century-dialed, eh, but it isn't.
No, indeed, monsieur, very pleasant.
I hope you find my services to your satisfaction, monsieur, on the voyage.
Oh, absolutely. I see no reason why the arrangement shouldn't work out perfectly.
Now, where are my gloves?
You are going out, monsieur, aren't you, Wayne?
What a point in wasting time, Henry.
Henry, you're coming with me. I hope to nose out the spots of interest.
Very well, monsieur. We are staying for some time here in Constantinople.
Well, more than a night, anyway.
I think I'd better carry all my money with me. You never know with me, Miss Farber.
Very well, monsieur, very well.
One should not leave anything valuable in strange hotels.
I will wait to keep it with you at all times.
It was in Constantinople that the tour came to an abrupt end.
Mr. William Cotton was never seen again in Constantinople or anywhere else.
Henri Torreau disappeared at the same time, but the captain, Count Henri de Tourbille,
who turned up in Scarborough, England later that year,
bore a resemblance, quite a remarkable resemblance, to the late Mr. Cotton's travelling companion.
True, Henri the Count was impeccably dressed.
He carried himself with an air, and he was wealthy,
as Henri the waiter had never been until Mr. Cotton disappeared.
The high society of Scarborough, that most fashionable 19th century resort,
was soon agog over the Count's lavish ways.
I'm here. I can keep you all showy, sir, but it's been much for more.
I'm particularly pleased, sir.
Very pleased to hear you say so, Eileen. I must say, Tony, I've been most successful.
Henri's quite a moving master here tonight.
Oh, he's in the bar as well.
And by the way, I just heard that Count in Constantinople,
I'm here. I've been wondering for, gosh, an hour, even,
the things I've heard of him. Oh, my God, I think.
I must say he has the house of only Count in Europe, all the important ones anyway.
I was certainly missing Alice in London, I can say so, but...
Oh, yes, truly. Master Mother, these Scarborough are praying
for him to look in the direction of their daughter.
Oh, look, he's coming this way. Oh, doesn't he look lovely?
Oh, you'll be of darling any to do, but of course.
Of course, of course. I must say he's a fine figure of an hour.
Oh, good fine. Such an hour. Oh, and that beard.
Is that your service, madame? Oh, I am.
Now, I'm to do. I'm looking upon the service.
Oh, how do you do? Great honor, you'll take.
I've been anxious to meet you, Count.
I'm hoping you'll be entertained a little swally.
I'm giving on Tuesday. Tuesday?
Ah, dear, great, I am so sorry.
I have already accepted an invitation for that day.
Oh, what a pity. Oh, but I know you're in great demand.
Everyone has seen most styles, and now, if you excuse me,
I hear them play the worst and I am engaged for these.
Not that you are to make me only a Brigham, Count.
If you're there, I am to dance, madame. Excuse me.
Using every trick known to him as a waiter, a man, and a Frenchman at that,
Olly was now bent on the concocts of Miss Henrietta Brigham,
a young lady who was due to inherit 30,000 pounds on the death of her widowed mother,
and that was when pounds were pounds.
Whether or not the Count was influenced by that fact,
he certainly made a dashing whore and a successful one.
My darling little wife, you have made me so happy.
Oh, wasn't it a wonderful wedding, and it's wonderful grad.
Everyone was most kind.
About that Henrietta, it is difficult to get her idea
in terms of transferring my money.
I was wondering, do you think your mother might be willing to make me a loan?
But I'm sure she'd be delighted if you might ask.
Good. I'll ask her right away.
Just a little trouble, you understand, over the transfer.
The truth of course was that the Count,
having used up all William Cotton's money and making a big splash of scarber,
is now fact-broken, till Mama Brigham was only too pleased to make her son-in-law a loan.
Once.
But when Henrietta, having spent the whole time on the honeymoon,
returned with a request for more,
he soon became aware of the trickiness of his decision.
His wife had no means of her own, and all requests had to be made to Mrs. Brigham.
Not only stained deafness on that occasion,
but after a few months, horror of horrors began hinting
that repayment of the first loan would be welcome.
Drastic action was obviously necessary, and in taking it on as a way over to show
that no one is more ruthless than a man trying to maintain a standard of living
to which he is not accustomed.
What will you offer, my dear?
It is today I pay your mother a visit, my darling, and pay her back the money.
There are two things, eh?
What money? Oh, the tremendous amount of money.
Yes. I had a letter yesterday asking me to loan.
Just you? Why, that's a light one, ah.
I must go now, Henrietta.
Give her my last one, eh?
So I'll be calling on her tomorrow, and I'll be bringing baby to see her.
Yes, yes, my dear, I will tell her.
But, Mr. LeFond, it is extraordinary that this woman herself has been excellent,
and has been remarkable.
But you understand, Doctor. Mrs. Brigham, she sent me in her letter.
Three pistol, I have a fear of burglars.
Well, I've got a gun with me, this gun that you see in her hand.
She anguished, examined it, and suddenly it go off.
And when I yield by her side, the allurgy is dead.
It's terrible accident, Doctor, it's terrible accident.
My poor wife, she has just had a baby, you know.
She will be so shocked to hear of this terrible accident.
Not only terrible, but curious, seeing as the bullet wound was in the back of Mrs. Brigham's head.
And then we have a nobleman's word for it, and the doctor has a nobleman's check for it.
So the certificate was signed without delay.
But after the purely formal request, Captain Gyard, interested by several suspicious letters from relatives of Mrs. Brigham,
sent one Inspector Duskovich to make some inquiries.
Well, these doubts have been raised, can't I be sent as it were to, well, I can't say I like prying, sir, especially with a gentleman like you.
Tell me, Inspector, Duskovich is surely not an indecisive man.
Well, now you can't mention it, sir, it isn't. I got Russian blood in me as a matter of fact.
Interesting, my mother, she was Russian.
Is it a product, sir?
Yes, Inspector, just like Mrs. Brigham.
Very sorry to hear it, sir, very sorry.
Inspector Duskovich, I am certain your Commissioner of Police does not pay you sufficient money in your job.
I would like to help you if possible.
Please keep your voice down, sir.
No, sir, also sorry. I think we can come to an arrangement one day.
So I shall be saved having to answer questions about my mother-in-law, and you, Inspector, will be spared having to ask them.
Now then, where is my sister?
After a suitable interval, Inspector Duskovich reported to headquarters that there was no case, and the Commissioner of Police dropped the matter.
Oh, by the way, Duskovich wasn't long enough, but I still prefer you not to talk about it.
Back in Scarborough, however, Arnie was still trying to get his mother-in-law's studies out.
His countess had inherited it, all right, but was showing no desire to share it with him.
Many a time Arnie pressed her to put some of the money at least into his account, only to be given an occasional five-pound note for pocket money.
Remembering Mr. William Carson and Mrs. Brigham, we need not be surprised that Henrietta, countess to Turville, soon became seriously ill and died,
attended by the same doctor as had written the convenient death history for her mother.
But the count, who was bearing his grief with commendable fortitude, was destined to receive a far greater shock than the death of his wife.
My concern is very big, count.
Thank you. You are my wife's lawyer.
I had that privilege. I cannot tell you, count, to settle losses in such a short space of time you have my details.
You have the will that my wife left?
I have indeed.
Still, how goes the phrase, in the midst of life?
Well, dear, paper is for me to sign before my money comes to me. To your son, you mean, little child, sweet child.
To my son? What is this?
Your wife left the bulk of her fortune to your child, although you have a fairly large legacy.
And of course the money will come to you in the event of your son's death.
I say, count, where are you up to?
I said the wrong thing. I say, count, these papers.
Well, yes.
The Parisian waiter was by no means content with the legacy.
He meant to have the whole 30,000. Two lives that had stood in his way had been snuffed out.
Would there soon be another death in the Tourville family?
Well, when I get through high school, I try to get a job that takes 50 or 60 a week.
So I can get some wheels of my own.
And then again, I might try to get into some college somewhere.
Or I might just sort of hang around and see what happens.
Some people, when they approach the end of their high school days, just don't know what to do next.
And with all the possibilities open to young people nowadays, it's easy to understand why.
But here's some good advice.
If you'll be finishing high school soon, don't spend the next few years just marking time.
Put them to good use, preparing for the future.
One excellent way to do this is by joining the United States Air Force, America's aerospace team.
As an airman, you will learn a vital aerospace skill as you start a career in one of the world's most future-oriented organizations.
Ask any Air Force recruiter for the facts about the aerospace team. You can be part of it.
Orry, Cont sevdil, refused to be downhavied.
He bore without a murmur the deaths of his mother-in-law and his wife.
And when he realized that these deaths had come to him and not to himself, Orry never gave way to despair.
If at first you don't succeed, try again.
So Orry tied his hand at Asuka's.
I say, excuse me, it's the Count of Turville, isn't it?
I am the Count, yes.
Well, I'm from the Daily Chronicle.
This, um, Wazdor house, isn't it?
Er, wasn't it, Count?
That is right.
It's terrible, had it been.
Well, yes, well, you seem very calm about it, Count.
He is injured.
Heavily injured, yes.
Ah.
Well, wasn't there anyone inside when it caught fire?
Myself and my small son Charles, unfortunately, there is no way out for him.
What?
Do you mean to say he's trapped in there?
But do the father know?
There is no need.
The kennel kept him out and he's locked in.
But can't they find him?
Has everything possible been done?
Oh, look, look, there's a body over there.
I'll see if we can...
There is nothing he can do.
Don't give up hope, dearie.
Those men can do wonders.
Hmm, perhaps.
But the kennel saved the day.
Oh, the robin's been at the second cell.
He's tearing full.
Dear, I told you he wouldn't give up without trying.
He's dying at the back way, slimy, what can't?
There's no way out for him.
Don't say that, dearie.
Don't say the mistake, dearie.
Oh, mon dieu, mon dieu, qu'est-ce qu'on peut faire?
Monsieur, you're preposterous.
It's marginal to get out the Mashup.
He'sgon
I always noticed something wrong with Oscar the
The company then had the gall to say that if he wanted to get any cash out of them, he better bring an action.
Now that was the last thing that Henry wanted.
So he found a willing relative to adopt his son, and he left Stavros, dropping his title as he went, and made his way to London.
London, August 5, 1871.
The Home Office has granted the request of Mr. Henry de Tourville for British citizenship.
Mr. de Tourville wishes it to be known that he is anglicising his name to Henry de Tourville.
London, 6th January, 1872.
Among those answering the call to the bar in the middle of the temple today was that well-known figure in London society, Henry de Tourville.
Mr. de Tourville explained to our representatives that he had no intention of practicing.
It is merely, he recorded, that I think it's good to have barricade law after my name.
Incidentally, it is whispered that Mr. de Tourville is thinking of giving his name to another.
We hope to be the first to announce him yet.
But the whispers were unfounded.
While he could afford to remain a bachelor, only de Tourville nearly flirted with the many women who found him to attract him.
But by 1875 his bank account was looking rather steamy and only realized it was time to stop striping and get down to business.
So Mrs. Madeleine Miller, a childless widow, age 45, income 7000 pounds a year, was asked, to her delight, to become Mrs. de Tourville.
Really, Madeleine, must we always have this charade you made with us, even on our honeymoon?
If he didn't make her long home, I'd feel so lost without her.
But, my dear, a man when he marries wishes to be alone with his wife.
I never feel, as you say, at home when she is always at our side.
Darling, here comes the bookerang.
Ah, Madame de Tourville and Mr. Alzault, good evening.
Good evening.
You are enjoying yourself here, sir? This beautiful country. Just right for the honeymoon, no?
No, yes, indeed.
You have, of course, visited Ferdinand Heuss?
I have a long time ago. I'm taking my wife tomorrow.
Yes, yes, tomorrow it will be a fine day for you.
I do so want to see the process. I hear it's very exciting and of you.
Oh, you shall be thrilled by the Ferdinand Heuss, Madame.
Looking forward to it enormously.
Ha, ha, ha. Honeymoon couples like it all this. It is very quiet up there on the cliff.
People can be alone, yes?
Yes, yes, I have been there once, I told you.
Of course. Now, if you would be so kind, excuse me.
I make arrangements for the picnic luncheon for you to take thee in the car.
And I'll stand by and tell her about tomorrow.
Oh, Madeline, I must tell you that the carriages tomorrow will only be big enough for you and me.
Nothing can be certain. You can get a bigger one. Sarah would so like to exert some.
But why, my darling, will it be so much nicer just you and me alone?
You and I, no one else, Madeline. You are all I want, just you and me, Madeline.
Dear love, when you say it like that, what can I answer but yes?
Next morning, Ari and Madeline set off to view the famous Ferdinand Heuss.
As their coach for past, the two of them stopped the carriage and informed the coachman that he and his wife would finish the journey on foot.
Nothing strange about that is a lovely day, and after giving them instructions, the coachman left and drove back alone.
The morning passed and the afternoon, and as the evening came tonight, the provider of the hotel and his wife became more and more anxious.
As the English, my lord, know that they are tougher at age, now it is already up and not after nine. They should have been here long ago.
Our first party should be sent to look for them.
Give them another five minutes, then...
We must go quickly. My wife, my Madeline, terrible accident. She was walking too near the edge. I told her not to go so near, but she would not listen and then...
Oh, it is too terrible. We must go quickly. I know exactly where it was that she fell.
Alain, I tell you, I am certain it was here.
Well, do not be anxious, sir. If you are down there, the men will find us.
Here they come now, excuse me.
Excuse me, Mr. de Turville. The men have found the body of your wife.
The dead?
Yes, dead.
Ah, I want you to look at the corpse.
Who draped back to the hotel?
Yes.
No, of course.
Where is this man?
This is Sergeant Magnus Fritz, of the local police. The body must stay where she is.
But why is that? Why must it stay here? Nonsense!
One of my men will watch it and stay there until the affair has been investigated.
Mr. de Turville, the corpse of your wife certainly did not meet our assistance until this place came when we found it.
And there are other signs. I must report this affair to my superiors. An inquiry there must be.
The finding of this court of inquiry is that the deceased lady died through an accident and no responsibility whatever for it got touched to this worthy gentleman, a visitor to our country from England, who has this court's deep sympathy in his sad bereavement.
I am struck that he leaves this court as free man, that his passport may return to him without delay.
So for the third time, Orly went to collect the dividends from death.
Back in London, the ejector of Madeline's will, having heard his sad tale, stayed without hesitation to Turville the sum of nearly 40,000 pounds, Orly's biggest jackpot yet.
This most successful trickster settled down once more to his life of ease, but one evening several months after his return to England, he was interrupted as he was dressing for dinner.
And it is really most inconvenient for me to receive a visitor at this time, my dear sir. I am sorry to be inhospitable, but I am afraid you will have to receive me, Mr. de Turville.
I am Inspector Clark and I come from Scotland Yard. I want you to come with me now to Burstree.
Burstree? Scotland Yard? Inspector? What is this? Some matter of police?
I am sorry, I am just going out to dinner.
You never have to wait, sir. Some few days, perhaps. I hold a warmth, you are a risk.
The charge is that you murdered your wife in the Austrian Tirol on the 16th of July, 1876.
Oh, this is unethical nonsense! In the interest, I was abandoned.
Abandoned, sir?
Liberated, delivered, surrendered, as you say, except free. Free from all responsibility.
That was enough, dear Mr. de Turville. Mr. Burstree's majesty wants to see you now. You will be charged formally and counsel will be appointed for your defense.
How do you do, Mr. de Turville?
My name is Williams, Montague Williams QC at your service. I defend you.
But I have already been resented. In Austria, I am free.
Oh, don't you know then? The case is real, it is. Some of your late wife's...
My condolences, by the way, sir. Your wife's relative sent a detective over to Austria recently.
This detective looks into the facts of your wife's death and seems to think that she may have been pushed.
So the Austrian government wants you back to try you again.
But I am an Englishman.
That's it, sir. And that is the reason why they are to try you to see whether there is any prima facie case against you, enough to justify extradition.
And if I am sent to Austria and be tried me again and be fined guilty, I will be Austrian punishment.
They'll hang you, sir. They'll hang you.
Montague Williams QC, perhaps because he wasn't a woman, was not completely covered by Arnie.
In the London trial he wrote a description of his client in a letter to a friend.
The accused hair, moustache and other hirsute appendages are of a glossy blackness that is suggestive of a male-tricious application.
His manner in court is jaunty and he waved his wild hair to his friends in the fashion which I considered unbecoming.
His shirt front literally prisms me. I feel intuitively that there is something of a tad about him.
In spite of this, I naturally should defend him to the best of my ability. That is the evidence he's also.
G.O. San Diego.
The prisoner was slipping, his clothes were torn, his face and arms were bruised.
But he said he had immediately come to the hotel after the accident.
This woman was lying on the ground at the top of the precipice, not near the body.
She had not been stopped by the rocks while falling, there is three.
In the dirt near the corpse marks were found showing that it had along the ground been dragged after falling.
And in view of all these circumstances, my binder is a prima facie case against the prisoner.
In accordance, therefore, with the treaty of extradition with Austria, we must hereupon surrender to the Austrian Empire.
Captain G.R. sent Inspector Clark to all his last trial in Vienna.
He took with him the solid Mrs. Brigham and the evidence gathered by the insurance company,
gathering the fire in Sardar. Hundreds of deprocessions were read, dozens of witnesses heard.
Or he himself made a speech at the end of which the judge told him he talked too much.
Finally, Henri Perrault, alias Henri de Treville, was sentenced to death.
But Lady Luck gave him a last gift, and the sentence was commuted to life imprisonment.
Can't you have time for Henri to reflect that although serving things in the Paris Cafe has some drawbacks,
serving sentences at the Yenna prison has no advantages.
And by the way, do keep quiet about Inspector Druskovitz. That's one of the secrets Scotland Yard really likes to keep.
Well, that's all for now. I'll be back again soon to tell you some more of the secrets of Scotland Yard.
In the meantime, it is time for us saying goodbye and set me free.