The Belles of St. Trinian's Page #4

that if this school closes,

it'll be at least five years

before you see the light.

But, seriously, ladies,

I think we ought to attempt

to affect at least an appearance

of improvement this term.

I'm sure that if we all pull together,

we can manage

the odd school certificate.

You realise none of us

has been paid since Easter.

I know that. I know that.

- And, believe me, it's on my conscience.

- Well, get if off your conscience!

I have the greatest hopes of doing so.

Shortly.

We have several affluent pupils

this term,

including

the Sultan of Makyad's daughter.

He must be crazy to send her here.

Doubtless, doubtless,

but the point is we've got her

and it's not merely

what he's prepared to spend.

Goodness knows,

money appears to be no object.

He's given her 100 pocket money.

- How much?

- 100.

But it's what it may lead to

that is important.

I'm told that the Sultan

has at least 17 other daughters.

Well, of course, I don't want

to be too optimistic, ladies,

but I really think that the tide

has ceased to ebb and it's about to...

I understand your father gave you

100 pocket money, my dear.

That's a lot of cash to carry around here.

Most unwise. Almost fatal, in fact.

Now, if you give it to me,

I'll look after it for you.

Hurry. Come on. Cough up. Where is it?

What's it say?

Well, what do you know!

The old so-and-so!

Come on, girls. Off you go to bed.

No messing about!

Another bedtime, another term.

Oh, it's good to be back in harness again.

Oh, yes.

For some, just routine,

but for us, my dear Prudence,

the breath of life.

Listen.

Term has begun!

Come in.

Superintendent Kemp Bird

of the Barchester Constabulary, sir.

Ah, sit down, Superintendent.

It isn't often we have the pleasure

of entertaining the police here.

- Cigarette?

- Thank you.

I... I'm sorry

I wasn't more explicit in my letter.

Thank you.

It's... it's not the sort of thing

one can discuss on paper.

Oh, you intrigue me.

Well, it's about a girls' school

called... St Trinian's.

Pardon me.

Not at all.

You... you know all about it, I see.

You observe the abnormal size

of the "T" file.

What sort of line have you taken?

In the first place,

I sent one of my best men to inspect it.

- And what did he report?

- He never came back.

- I beg your pardon?

- Disappeared. Completely.

- What did you do, then?

- Send another man after him.

- Oh, and he bought him back?

- No, he disappeared, too.

You sent two inspectors

and never heard of either of them again?

- Not a word.

- But why didn't you inform the police?

It's hardly the sort of thing the Ministry

wants to draw attention to.

Besides, I knew they were all right.

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