MRS FORBES   Another day.
Wormold smiles faintly then comes down the passage to his room.
Nothing from Kuala Lumpur.
Wormold pauses over this and then is about to go into his cheerless room when he turns.

WORMOLD   Mrs Forbes. Your information was correct. You’ll be happy to know an arrest was made and charges are being preferred.
Mrs Forbes comes back into the kitchen looking anything but happy.

EXT. NUTTALL’S BUTCHER’S SHOP, REAR. NIGHT.

A police car pulls up in the alley. The engine and lights cut out and it sits in the dark.

INT. NUTTALL’S SHOP. NIGHT.

Nuttall is standing waiting, his coat on over his butcher’s coat. Ernest, his ancient boy, is sitting on the counter, smoking. There is a knock at the back door. Ernest answers it and Inspector Noble and PC Penny come in, PC Penny bearing the pork in a blanket.

NUTTALL   I’m waiting.

INSPECTOR NOBLE   He’s just this minute gone.
PC Penny uncovers the green pork.

NUTTALL   Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. No, no, no, no.

ERNEST   No, no.

NUTTALL   I’ve told you. I want it prior to the painting.

INSPECTOR NOBLE   You don’t know what he’s like. He’s a demon.
Nuttall examines the pork more closely.

NUTTALL   It’s dogmeat is this.

ERNEST   Dogmeat is that.

PC PENNY   We did try.

INSPECTOR NOBLE   We did.
Nuttall grudgingly cuts them some chops, one for PC Penny, two for Inspector Noble, then even more grudgingly adding a third to Inspector Noble’s, before ushering them out of the back door, which he locks.

ERNEST   Dogmeat is that.

NUTTALL   Dogmeat be buggered. Get your coat off.
Ernest struggles out of his coat.
Bath. (Puts a zinc bath down.) Bucket.
Ernest hands him a bucket.
Bleach. (Wallops in a lot of bleach.)
Now then. Get scrubbing.

INT. ALLARDYCES’ DINING ROOM. NIGHT.

A lavish meal at which Mr and Mrs Allardyce, Dr Swaby and Lockwood are present.

MRS ALLARDYCE   How’s your steak?

LOCKWOOD   Just right.
An indeterminate noise halts all cutlery but Dr Swaby’s. Can he have farted?

MRS ALLARDYCE   (breaking their pause) More sprouts, Dr Swaby?

INT. CHILVERS’ DINING ROOM. NIGHT.

Joyce, Gilbert and Mother are eating a sparse meal of luncheon meat, lettuce and one tomato. They eat in silence, Gilbert and Mother heartily, Joyce daintily.

GILBERT   I saw another verruca today. Gone the wrong way again. They will hack at them with razor blades.

JOYCE   Don’t bring feet to the table, Gilbert. And there’s crumbs cascading onto this carpet.

GILBERT   You have to wait until they come to a head. Then it’s a piece of cake.
Joyce gives up any attempt to eat.
Still, Mrs Roach’s ingrowing toenail seems to have turned the corner. Thanked me profusely. Gave me a macaroon.

JOYCE   (passionately) A macaroon! A macaroon! We’re better than this, Gilbert.