one another.

Previously on "Grantchester"... She was 15 years old.

Abigail wasn't the devil.

We let her down.

You are complicit in her death.

Know your place, Sidney.

GEORDIE: Are you going to tell me how to do my job now?

SIDNEY: I won't let him hang.

I will not let that happen!

"Grantchester," tonight on Masterpiece Myst (thunder) (whimpers) (click) GEORDIE: He's young, he's fit.

CATHY: He's good-looking.

Easy... Well, I suppose he is.

So what's the catch, I hear you ask?

Well, I'll tell you: jazz.

It's a bloody racket.

But if you can put up with that, he's a keeper.

I don't care for modern music.

It's the devil's work, if you ask me.

How did you say you knew each other?

I was the barmaid at Geordie's old local, weren't I, Keatsy?

(laughing) And, of course, the drinking will have to stop.

I prefer a little bit of music hall myself, you know?

Max Miller, Marie Lloyd.

♪ And suppose it makes you fat ♪ ♪ Well, I don't worry about that ♪ ♪ 'Cause a little of what you fancy does you good!

♪ (laughs) WOMAN: I love jazz.

Have you heard of Sidney Bechet?

Sidney bloody Beckett!

WOMAN: A friend of mine's band is playing some of his pieces on Jesus Green tomorrow, if you'd like to join me.

I'm afraid I'm busy tomorrow.

GEORDIE: Busy?

Doing what?

He only works one day a week.

Maybe he didn't fancy her.

She was gorgeous!

I'd have been all over her.

Oh, would you now?

If I wasn't married.

Well, I don't think she'd have you.

Oh, that right?

(laughing) ♪ Because a bit of what you fancy does you good ♪ (laughing) God, I'm tired.

I love you.

I don't blame you.

(keys jangling) You came.

How are you?

I thought that everybody hated me.

Of course they don't, Gary.

You're awfully kind, but I wouldn't want the village thinking you're taking my side over theirs.

There are no sides, Mrs. Bell.

(honking) Sidney!

SIDNEY: Guy's changed.

(laughs) SIDNEY: I don't know where Geordie finds these women.

They're either drunks or nuns.

Imagine what they're saying about you!

(laughs) Well, I think it's wonderful that you're out there.

It is time you found someone for yourself.

Listen, there's a fair on Midsummer Common this weekend.

I thought we could go to the new Velasquez exhibition at the Fitz.

Sidney, Guy's only away for a couple of days.

I'm staying at home.

My father'll expect to see me at some point.

Bring him along.

You know how much he likes me.

MRS. MAGUIRE: Mr.

Chambers!

Inspector Keating on the telephone.

Hello, Mrs. Maguire!

Mrs. Hopkins.

I'll be in Cambridge later on.

We can meet for a coffee.

And maybe some Velasquez if it's not too late.

Mr.

Chambers!

Inspector Keating said it was urgent.

SIDNEY: My God, what's happened?

GEORDIE: The body's a mess.

I think he jumped.

So how can I help?

Valentine Lyall, 46.

SIDNEY: Suicide?

GEORDIE: Yeah, I think so.

I was hoping you might know him.

He was a fellow at Corpus Christi.

It's your old college, wasn't it?

It must've been after my time.

The porters say there's a staircase to the roof.

Then it's hand and foot if he went any higher.

He could've been night climbing.

We used to do it as students.

Maybe he fell?

Blood's dry.

Must've happened in the middle of the night.

So?

If I fell from there, I'd be screaming blue murder.

Sure one of this lot would've heard it sooner than that.

He didn't scream.

WOMAN: Val?

Val?!

Stop, wait!

Val?!

Mya!

I'm sorry.

This is my husband.

No.

Get off me!

Val?!

Just stop this.

I have a right to see him!

I'm not letting you see him!

It's all right!

(shouting in Burmese) Look, I'm sorry.

He's in no condition to be seen.

Do you understand?

I'm sorry.

MAN: We were drinking in the Maypole until around 10:00, and then we said goodbye on Sidney Street.

The first I heard anything was wrong was when Mya telephoned the college around 2:00 a.m. We were looking for him all night.

Val always told me if he was going to be late.

And he didn't say anything about going climbing?

No, but it was a clear night.

That's when you get the best views.

He was always doing it.

(loud clattering) GIRL: Mom!

Tala, go to your room.

I'll be up in a moment.

I told her that her father died doing something he loved.

So he will come back happy.

You're Buddhists?

For us, death is not the end.

MAN: Vicar?

Yes, thanks.

(groans) Sorry, they're menthol filtered.

From London.

So you were one of his students?

No, I'm a linguist.

But I am at Corpus.

We were friends.

MYA: Val loved Kit.

He's part of the family.

Please.

Thank you.

What is it?

Lahpet.

You were in Burma?

Valentine too.

That's where we met.

Do you think it's possible Valentine could've taken his own life?

MYA: No.

No!

He was happy.

He was fine in the pub.

No note, anything like that?

I know this is a lot to take in.

We'll do everything we can to get to the bottom of this for you.

Do you mind if we go through his things?

You never talk about Burma.

Don't you think it's odd that a bloke could be so tidy, hmm?

There's no dirty underwear, no loose ends, like it's already been cleaned up.

I don't think she's hiding anything.

And Bartlett?

He cares about Lyall, all right.

Friends?

20 year age gap?

You could say the same thing about us.

What, 20 years?!

You wish.

Anyway, you're not my type.

Maybe he's just neat.

KIT: Nosebleeds.

Happens a lot with climbers.

The thinner air at altitude dries out your sinuses.

Can I help in any way?

Where did you go when you parted ways last night?

Back to college.

I had a drink with Doctor Raban, my Russian tutor.

Had some rather good vodka.

If it was suicide, maybe Lyall left a note in his study.

We should check.

MAN: Mr.

Chambers?

Hello, Frank.

What's the secret?

Secret, sir?

To eternal youth.

Oh, that would be the scotch, sir.

(laughs) If only.

Frank Archer, head porter.

This is Inspector Geordie Keating.

I take it this is about poor Mr. Lyall?

We'd like to see his room, please.

You'll need to speak to the master.

He'll be pleased to see you, sir.

I guess it hasn't changed much?

These places never do.

Inspector!

Chambers.

Sir.

Lyall never struck me as the suicidal type, but you can never tell.

He was a charming man, gifted professor of English.

Although sadly as fond of the bar as he was the bard.

You would've got on.

Sounds like it.

He could be immature, irresponsible.

I mean, this childish penchant for daredevilry with a family at home.

They must feel so abandoned.

All right, there's nothing here.

Think we can move on.

And what is your role here, anyway?

Has the clergy widened its remit?

Or are you just sticking your nose in where you shouldn't again?

What did you do, piss in his port?

Something like that.

No note, though?

Maybe he did just fall and he didn't scream because he banged his head on the way down.

Or passed out drunk.

Maybe.

(thud) Nowhere near.

So he must've come off the turret?

Exactly.

Go on then, Phil.

I'm not going up there.

The porters hire specialist cleaners.

They'll be here Monday.

GEORDIE: It's a nice view.

Not sure I'd risk my neck for it, though.

SIDNEY: I suppose it's tradition.

Pushing your limits, beating the night.

It's stupid, really, but it makes sense when you're young.

But he was 46, with a wife and child.

Ever heard of E.M. Forster?

Hmm?

Who's he play for?

He wrote A Room with a View.

MAN: I didn't realize looking out of one's window was a crime.

GEORDIE: It isn't.

But withholding evidence is.

I already told you, I didn't see anything.

The man who died had a wife and child.

They deserve to know the truth.

Nothing you say has to come back to you.

Does it?

No.

It was late, around midnight.

I didn't see any faces, all right?

I was working on my dissertation.

(laughing) (bicycle bell ringing) But I looked out to see two men climbing the chapel.

Maniacs.

But they stopped awhile.

Talking, I think.

Then, the next time I looked out...

He pushed him.

He must've been so scared.

Its odd Lyall didn't tell Bartlett if he was meeting someone else.

Well, let's check Bartlett was where he said he was before we start casting elsewhere.

(knocking) GEORDIE: Professor Raban?

Zakhodi.

MAN: A fascist and a papist.

To what do we owe the pleasure?

C of E, actually.

Please excuse Mr. Crompton.

He's going through a Marxist phase.

It's not a phase.

Which will wither away like his proletariat state.

We're investigating the death of your colleague.

I hear it was an accident.

So everyone seems keen to stress.

Can you tell me where you were around midnight last night?

I was here with a student of mine-- Kit Bartlett.

Any witnesses?

I'm sure the porters can confirm that.

We were going through his dissertation on the theme of duality in 19th century Russian literature.

Really is rather fascinating.

FRANK: Yes, sir.

Mr. Bartlett returned around half past 10:00, went straight to Professor Raban.

You're sure?

I can still remember Mr.

Chambers coming back at all hours.

Did Lyall have any disputes or enemies you knew of?

No, sir.

Mr. Lyall was very popular.

I'd like to have another look in his room.

Even though it's been cleaned up, there's got to be something out of place.

Like a fire in the middle of a hot spell?

(blows) SIDNEY: What do you think they are?

Something someone didn't want us to see.

Hey!

Who's that?

She was at the crime scene.

The chapel.

Excuse me!

I'm a police officer!

Don't walk away from me!

Split up.

We lose each other, meet back at the station.

Amanda?

Everything all right?

Absolutely.

How are you?

Uh...

I'm looking for a woman.

Anyone I know?

It's for a case.

Come with me.

Who are you?

(gunshot) You going to hit me too?

Leave this alone, old boy.

You're out of your depth.

(gasps) Perhaps Blue Hat was having an affair with Lyall and it was her husband that pushed him off the roof?

It's possible.

Margaret!

Have you seen Inspector Keating?

I thought he was with you.

He was, but I lost him.

We were looking for a woman.

Another one?

I'm sure he won't mind if you wait.

Margaret Ward, by the way.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Amanda Kendall.

Hopkins nee Kendall.

Pleasure.

(clears throat) Come in, why don't you?

Well, did you catch her?

Mrs. Hopkins.

Sorry, Geordie.

Sidney filled me in on the case.

Did he now?

No, I lost her.

How's your husband?

Oh, Guy's fine.

He's working in Edinburgh for a few days.

While the cat's away, eh?

The mouse will visit her father.

Indeed.

I hear you're playing cupid?

Trying, yeah, but he's a hard target and I'm running out of arrows, so...

If you can think of anyone?

Uh...

I'll take you out.

I'm free tomorrow night.

Um... Well, that's very charitable of you, but... We can't get a babysitter.

He doesn't need a chaperone, does he, Mrs. Hopkins?

No, of course not.

Excellent.

I'll book the same place he's been taking you.

See you then.

Inspector Keating, may I have a word with you?

In private?

The fact is, sometimes people need protecting from themselves.

Which is why I must ask you to stop investigating this case.

Lyall was in intelligence.

He was closing in on the identity of a man known only as "The Tsar," a high-ranking mole based in the university.

He's been passing our secrets to the Soviets for years.

We believe that's why they had Lyall killed.

I can't tell you any more without compromising our operation, but that's why you need to disentangle yourself without arousing further suspicion.

Not least in Chambers.

He's not a man to be trusted.

Sidney is one of the most trustworthy people I know.

Well, if that's what you believe, then you'll want to keep him alive.

This is a dangerous business.

This is a murder investigation for the Cambridgeshire Constabulary.

I've read your military record, Inspector.

You've suffered enough in the line of duty.

And, of course, you wouldn't want Esme, Ivy, Dora, or David to grow up without a father.

How do you know their names?

We know everything.

And so could the Soviets.

What was that about?

Oh, you know, keeping things discreet, the reputation of the college.

Well, I know what this is.

What?

We shouldn't be in here.

Nobody visits half these rooms.

I used to nap in here.

Oh, yeah.

You know, this could be nothing.

Nine three five... ...M-E-S.

Strange choice for an English Tutor.

Professor Raban.

Rory Crompton.

This is Lyall's handwriting.

"The Tsar"?

Lyall was some sort of British spy.

These are here for a reason, so...

Someone may need to reference them, so we need to put them back exactly where we found them.

Sidney!

There's always been rumors about this kind of thing, but after Burgess and Maclean... Keep your voice down.

Why?

Who are you gonna telephone?

I've got a friend at the Yard.

You should probably wait outside.

You've got visitors.

May I help you, gentlemen?

I was on the chapel roof with Mr. Lyall last night.

I know how he died.

I ran into him on Kings Parade.

He asked me if I wanted to go climbing, and I said no at first.

Valentine was always trying to recruit students to his hijinks.

I told him it was irresponsible.

But he had this hip flask.

We sat on the backs, drinking, and he talked me round.

SIDNEY: And you climbed Kings Chapel?

Just like that?

Well, he'd done it before.

I just followed.

And what about the lip?

Each turret, it has a lip.

How did you get over it?

It was hard going, but we just pulled ourselves up.

And then what?

When we got to the top, I don't know what happened.

He was looking out over the edge and he must've slipped.

I tried to grab him, but I was too late.

The sound when he hit the ground was... SIDNEY: And why didn't you contact the police sooner?

I was scared.

We'd think that you'd pushed him?

I didn't!

Surely with your beliefs, killing an establishment figure like Lyall could be seen as a revolutionary act?

Mr. Crompton's beliefs barely stand the rigors of essay-writing, let alone murder.

What exactly are you doing here, Professor?

All right, that's enough!

You're letting them off the hook!

I ask the questions here, not you.

So why aren't you asking them?

If they're Russian spies, then we can't let them know we're onto them.

They must already know we're close, or they wouldn't have offered up a lie like that.

We don't know it's a lie.

From a distance, in the dark, it could've looked like he pushed him.

Come on, Geordie, there is no way Crompton climbed the chapel like that.

How do you know?

Because I've done it.

Without rope, two men need to work together.

The first man stands on the second man's shoulders to get over the lip and then pulls the other up.

They are trying to cover for someone-- Raban himself, the woman who we followed, whoever this Tsar is in the files?

All right!

But if that's the case, we can't just go blundering in.

So what do we do?

You need to leave it to me.

SIDNEY: We all experience doubt from time to time.

Doubt in ourselves, in God, in justice.

But we must have faith in ourselves, each other, God, and... (crying) ...and in institutions like the courts and the state to get things right.

See you soon, see you soon.

Good singing!

Sidney!

Let me.

Thank you, Harding.

Maybe you should think about going to another church.

There aren't any steps at Hardwick.

It's all right.

Leonard and I are happy to help you in and out.

Then we'll go to Hardwick.

I am sorry, Mr.

Chambers.

Could you take me home now, please?

Of course.

What about this Master Montgomery?

Do you think he's connected at all to the government?

Intelligence?

You don't get a job like that if you're not.

Why?

Oh... You've got a statement saying it was an accident.

That Lyall just fell from the tower.

You've a witness who was 200 yards away at night, and no one pushing for anything different.

Just write it up and move on.

We're busy enough without looking for work.

What time's your chuffer coming?

It's "chauffeur," Mrs. M. I told him to take his time.

Father's hosting rotary drinks this evening.

Are you not wearing a tie?

I've been in a dog collar all day.

Do you not think he needs a tie, Mr. Finch?

I have no idea what women want.

You look... ...perfect.

I'm not sure if I'm even gonna go.

Oh, yes you are.

You saw what happened this morning with the Redmonds.

The village need me.

They'll always need you, which is why you need a wife.

Help you shoulder the burden.

Mrs. Maguire's right.

Not that you need to marry Margaret.

I hear you're thinking of offering Phyllis Bell private communion.

You have more spies than the KGB, Mrs. M. (knocking) I'll go.

It's the victims the church should be helping.

Mrs. Bell is a victim.

As is Gary.

Just like the Redmonds.

LEONARD: Sidney!

This is a copy of Val's Will.

I was hoping you might help me with the funeral.

He wanted to be cremated.

Of course.

And I was wondering if you knew what was happening with the police investigation.

KIT: We understand Rory Crompton was up there?

That he's saying it was an accident?

It doesn't make sense.

Val never mentioned the boy.

Why climb with him?

I'm sure Inspector Keating is doing everything in his power to ascertain the truth.

Well, is he accepting Crompton's story or not?

Mya needs to know.

He brought Tala and me here just last week.

He said it was... How did he put it?

"Quintessential England."

In my religion, there is a place.

A perfect place, like your heaven.

Nirvana.

Nirvana.

We had that here.

Why would he throw it away?

So how come the other dates didn't work out?

I don't know.

Just incompatible, I suppose.

You don't think you overwhelmed them with charm and conversation?

I'm sorry.

It's all right.

I suppose I did launch myself at you.

No, it's not that.

Do you think Geordie's all right?

What do you mean?

This case, it feels like he's been hanging back.

You know what he's like normally: full steam ahead.

I'm just worried about him.

Have you tried asking him?

Well, of course.

I mean really asking.

I've got brothers.

I know you boys would rather play cards and joke about your privates than have a proper conversation.

Backgammon.

And I prefer to keep my privates private.

Pity.

(laughs) You know Inspector Keating better than I do, so if you think there's something wrong with him, then there probably is.

Well, go on then.

We're not getting anywhere with this on your mind, so you might as well go and see him.

What about you?

Just leave the wine.

Cathy said you're working late.

Guessed you'd be in here.

Margaret stand you up, then?

You can't blame her.

You dodged a bullet there, I reckon.

Backgammon?

Any news on the Lyall case?

Not yet.

Are you all right?

Of course I am.

Slapping Mya Lyall.

She was hysterical.

After letting Phil force Gary to drink that water.

Oh, that again?

Ducking this case?

I am not ducking anything!

What are you doing, then?

I had a visit from Mya.

She needs to know what's going on.

Her husband didn't even tell her he was a spy.

What are we supposed to do?

Our jobs.

I'm a clergyman, I'm supposed to give her comfort.

And you are a policeman.

Geordie, I... Montgomery told me to leave the case alone.

He knows Lyall was a spy.

He said the authorities were looking into it.

And why didn't you tell me?

He asked me not to.

For your own safety.

No, my safety's got nothing to do with it.

It is personal for him.

He's got a point.

They are spies, Soviets, reds under the bed.

This is bigger than us.

Fine.

Let's do our jobs.

Where are we going?

Back to the scene of the crime.

I don't know what else we're going to see at night.

GEORDIE: Nothing from down here.

Geordie?

That's far enough.

It's dark, you've been drinking.

Just like Lyall.

And look what happened to him.

Geordie!

Had you going there.

Give me your shoulder.

Ready?

One, two, three!

Give me your hand.

Ready?

One, two, three!

Geordie!

Use your feet, I can't hold you!

You sure you're all right?

"Beat the night," you said.

"Push your limits."

Geordie?

You were right.

There's no way Crompton climbed this, like he said.

So who did?

You've really got to know the person you do this with.

Really trust them.

Kit Bartlett?

Kit Bartlett.

(clock bell tolling) Frank?

Frank!

Police!

Open up.

We're here to speak to Kit Bartlett.

Do you have a warrant?

Why would he shelter a murder suspect?

What if he's the Russian mole, the Tsar?

Montgomery?

That's why he tried to shut the case down.

I only had his word.

No, I've known him for years.

You trust him?

Is there no way to check?

Oh, telephone the MOD?

Ask for a list of Russian spies in Cambridge?

So what do we do now?

We need to tie him to Bartlett.

How?

You don't do anything.

What are you talking about?

It's too dangerous.

He's the Master of a Cambridge college!

Working with who else, Sidney?

Bartlett?

Raban?

Crompton?

The woman?

No, if they wanted to hurt us, they've done so already.

She had a gun.

That's why I lost her.

Are you all right?

Oh, if you ask me that one more time... You've already been shot once, Geordie.

It's part of my job.

Not yours.

So you just need to let me do it.

Please.

I'm asking you as a friend.

You go home.

She's not here again, is she?

SIDNEY: Only until the chuffer comes!

AMANDA: Sorry, Mrs. Maguire.

So how was your dinner?

With Margaret.

I left early.

Really?

On her advice.

She's, uh... nice.

Well, that's wonderful.

That's Lyall's will.

He wrote it a month ago.

It's almost as if he knew he was in danger.

He felt threatened somehow.

Look, he even named Bartlett as executor.

He must really have trusted him.

So did I. I thought he was really upset, that he cared for Lyall and his family.

It'd be like me killing Geordie.

And why would you do that?

Well, I wouldn't, I'm just saying.

No, I know, but it might help to work out why, if you were him, what you'd have to want.

Amanda... Or believe.

You went to the same college.

You're friends with an older man.

Put yourself inside his head.

What would it take for you to kill Geordie?

Nothing.

Unless... What?

He asked me to.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ MAN: Hey, stop!

Sidney!

It's all right, Jimmy.

Is there a coroner's report for Valentine Lyall?

I really shouldn't.

It only came through this morning.

Is everything all right?

Where's Geordie?

He's just telephoned for assistance at the Rivercam Boat Club.

You can come in my patrol car if you don't tell Benson.

No, no, no cars, and no men in uniform.

Please, Phil, let me go alone.

Geordie'll understand.

♪ ♪ Kit Bartlett.

I'm arresting you for the murder of Valentine Lyall.

You're going to destroy everything.

Geordie!

What do you think you're doing?

Kit's one of us!

He killed Lyall, Sidney.

Lyall was in on it.

What?

It's all right!

We're all on the same side, aren't we?

Are we?

Lyall was ill.

Lung cancer.

He knew he was going to die, so the secret service decided to use it.

For what?

To get Bartlett in with the Russians.

They must've known Lyall was a British spy.

What better way for Kit to prove his loyalty to Russia than killing Lyall in public?

It was Lyall who cleaned up his home.

His room.

He left the files for the British agents to access.

That's why he didn't scream: because he wanted to die.

That's right, isn't it?

Very impressive, Mr.

Chambers.

It's a shame to think what you might've been.

And Rory Crompton?

That was the Soviets.

They put him up when they thought you were closing in on Bartlett.

You very nearly complicated everything.

Why didn't you just tell me?

You couldn't be trusted.

And this is your idea of the greater good, is it?

It was Lyall's idea, actually.

It's how he wanted to go.

At the hand of a friend.

Looking over the backs.

Fooling the enemy.

It's rather poetic, don't you think?

All I see is a man who lied to his wife and deprived his family of the time he had left.

And if you tell her the truth, you'll be putting them in as much danger as Bartlett.

They're coming, sir.

Any minute now, Bartlett will meet the Tsar.

That's what Lyall's death earned us and why I couldn't let you ruin it.

Comrade.

GEORDIE: The porter?

Get out.

All this time?

Get out!

Do as he says.

GEORDIE: You sly old dog.

All that grief because you were (no audio) Montgomery's daughter.

We were seeing each other for a couple of years.

He was angry because I broke up with her.

And why did you do that?

No, let me guess.

She wasn't your type?

She wasn't your type?

Maybe my type doesn't exist.

Or is already married?

Come on.

Let's go and give Lyall's wife some peace.

Why do you think he kept it from her?

The spying I understand, but the sickness?

He was protecting her.

That's what a husband does.

Or maybe he just couldn't face it himself.

It turns out the student, Rory Crompton, was the one that slipped.

Your husband tried to catch him, and that's how he fell.

Crompton was too ashamed to admit it at first.

I know it doesn't make things easier, but Valentine died a hero.

Thank you.

Thank you.

SIDNEY: Forgive us for the lies we tell to protect other people and those we tell to protect ourselves.

We are weak.

And the lies give us comfort.

But only the truth can set us free.

Amen.

I was at the back of the queue on Sunday.

There was none left.

Margaret.

I'm sorry for walking out on you at dinner.

I was hoping you'd let me make it up to you.

You're buying.

We should go out as a foursome.

Guy would love to meet her.

I'm sure he'll be very relieved.

Is there no pie for Amanda?

I thought she'd be gone by now.

Mrs. Maguire!

It's quite all right.

I probably should be getting back.

Mrs. Hopkins.

Guy.

SIDNEY: Hello, Guy.

I thought I'd travel home with you.

I took the train to your father's house, but the chauffeur told me he was picking you up from here.

He's outside now.

Yes.

It's been lovely seeing you.

You too.

And good luck with you-know-who.

Thanks.

Sidney, can I have a word?

Of course.

(groans) Stay away from my wife!

(groans) Next time on Masterpiece Mystery!

We were reliably informed you'd been murdered.

I did!

I killed him!

MAN: An afternoon away from the prying eyes of Grantchester.

We should make it a regular occurrence.

So what's her name?

The girl who has your heart?

Steer well clear, Amanda.

"Grantchester," next time on Masterpiece Mystery!

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Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org