The Scapegoat Page #3

- Let me help you get dressed.

- What?

No thank you.

I'm quite capable of dressing myself.

Please? I'll be quite all right.

- Shall I get you some coffee, then, sir?

- No.

I'm so sorry. That was um... That was very rude.

I just need to find my things.

I understand, sir.

- I'm sorry. Someone seems to have stolen my clothes.

- I made you one of my specials.

- Right, um... I think I should...

- Back in one, sir. Always the best way.

That's very good.

What is it... was it?

- Vodka mainly, sir. Just how you like it.

- Thank you.

You should get the landlord up here.

I need to sort this out.

Don't worry, sir. I've had a word,

and his discretion is assured.

Fine. I'll do it myself.

Ah, just the man. Look... The fellow

I met last night has run off with all my things.

- I can't find my wallet...

- Don't worry, sir.

You settled everything

very generously last night.

No, no.

The man who paid last night wasn't me.

- I mean, we swapped coats, but...

- Don't upset yourself, Mr Spence.

I'm... I'm not upset,

and I'm not Mr Spence.

- I'll just put your things in the car, Mr Spence.

- No!

Er... put them wherever you want.

They're not my things.

Wait here.

Look, I'm not who you think I am.

Look, you can ask me any question you want.

I wouldn't know the answer.

I don't even know who you are.

Don't...

My God...

That's a Silver Wraith.

That's incredible.

Four-speed transmission,

coachwork by Hooper. Am I right?

It's beautiful.

Are you intending to drive, sir?

- Could I?

- Of course.

If you want to.

Oh, my God! I'm...

I'm so sorry! I didn't...

Perhaps it would be better

if I drove, sir.

I'm... I did... I didn't see...

Oh, my Goodness! I'll...

I'll pay for the damage of course. I'm...

- All will be all right once we get you back, sir.

- I'm so sorry.

- We'll be home before you know it.

- Yes. Er...

I'm...

- Johnny! Johnny!

- Sorry?

I haven't got time to talk. It's the Williamson dinner at six.

One of us has to be there.

- What the devil's happened to the car, George?

- Entirely my fault, sir.

Well, it can come out of your wages.

Come on! I've got to go!

Would you please stop shouting?

It wasn't George's fault. It was mine.

I'll pay for the damage.

I haven't got time for this.

I'll take your bag upstairs, sir.

Thank you.

Daddy! You're back!

I've missed you so much!

I have terrible news.

Mrs Simpson is dead.

Mrs Simpson is dead?

That... that is terrible news.

- You don't look very upset.

- No, no, I am. I am.

I didn't even know she was ill.

Would you come up and see her

after my bath?

- You mean she's here?

- Of course.

I told Father McReady he couldn't bury her

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