logic.
- Too emotional. Quite absurd.
- It's not their logical capacity I enjoy.
- Even a good woman's too much trouble.
- Come, Arthur, they do have their uses.
Edward's got the proper view
by not marrying at all.
Someone will catch him.
- I know one or two with their eye on him.
- No one will catch Edward.
God knows what a man may catch
in London if he's not married.
This thief on the train, Henry.
Was there a risk of him stealing the gold?
- None. Quite impossible.
- Nothing's impossible.
Utterly impossible. Two Chubb safes,
four keys separately guarded. Impossible.
- Still, I suppose it could be done.
- I can't imagine how.
A thief would have to get all four keys.
Two are locked away in the station.
One is in the hands of our president,
Mr Edgar Trent, who is utterly reliable.
I don't know where Mr Trent
keeps his key but I know of the fourth,
for I am myself entrusted with guarding it.
Damn it, Henry, when are you going to
tell us where you've hidden your key?
I keep it about my neck.
I wear it at all times.
Even when bathing?
Even while bathing.
It never leaves my person.
- Clever.
- Most ingenious.
So you see, to get all four keys -
quite impossible.
The Crimean gold and all the bank's
other transactions are entirely safe.
Thank God for that.
You may count on it, Edward. Count on it.
- Who do those men think you are?
- Edward Pierce. A sharp businessman.
A sharp businessman?
That covers a multitude of sins.
It does among that group.
And what's your business?
It's not really clear. I've made a great deal
of money in coal, in the north.
- Have you?
- Oh, yes, I have. I'm quite well-off.
Are you?
I think so.
I've... made something of myself.
Do they believe all that?
Among sharp businessmen
one doesn't ask too many questions.
Do they know of your interest
in the theatre?
An unmarried gentleman
must amuse himself.
- Must he?
- Oh, yes, he must.
Did they mention the train?
What did they say?
They all agreed that it was impossible.
Simply impossible.
You like that?
I can tell it excites you.
Are you all right?
Nice pull.
Not bad, if I do say so myself.
You look well.
Yes. How was the touch?
You saw it, didn't you?
Or was I so fast you couldn't see it?
I saw.
- Did you wire her?
- No, just my hands.
Hummingbirds.
- Thinking of a job, then?
- I may have one or two little things.
Those one or two little things...
Could they be crib jobs?
They could.
- Bit dicey, are they?
- Very dicey.
- Is it dipping or keys?
- Eys.
- Wax or a straightaway haul?
- Wax.
You didn't do the Berkeley Hills job,
did you?
Berkeley Hills? Shit job.
A shit job? Well, they're clean
with 2,000 guineas gone.
No. I was thinking of something bigger.
This wax. On the fly?
Then I'm your man.
- The fastest screwsman you'll ever see.
- So I heard.
- What's it to be, then?
- First we must case a square-rigged gent.
Good night.
Mr Edgar Trent,
president of the Huddleston
and Bradford Bank,
follows an inflexible routine,
departing the bank
at the end of each day promptly at 7 pm.
Mr Trent resides at
number seven Belgrave Square.
It's a mansion of 23 rooms,
not including servants' quarters.
His second wife, Emily,
is 30 years his junior,
and with her unmarried stepdaughter
she runs the household very strictly.
There are ten servants employed.
A coachman, a gardener, a doorman,
a butler, a cook and two upstairs maids.
All the servants are content
and can't be bribed.
- Dogs?
- Two. Terriers. Walks 'em twice a day.
Seven in the morning and 8.15 at night.
- Children?
- Five.
Three at home.
The youngest is a boy who sleepwalks.
Which creates a commotion.
No point in cracking a 23-room house
until we find out where the key is.
The person who knows
where that key is is Mr Trent.
Really?
He must have a weakness.
Gambling, drink. Women?
Well, hello.
No, no, no.
No respectable gentleman
is that respectable.
- He's a ratting gent.
-