Are you Monsieur Gustave of the... Yes, dammit. Confess. I'm innocent. Hmm? No, no.
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Serge? Serge? Serge!
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I saw him last night in secret. He made me take an oath on a Bible I wouldn't tell a soul.
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In the small hours of the evening of 19 October, an individual well-known to the house and staff, a Monsieur Gustave H, did arrive at the Desgoffe und Taxis residence in Lutz and entered by the rear service alley, alerting no one to his presence, and did then proceed by way of back stairs and servants' passage, to deliver himself into the private chambers of Madame D. There is no evidence to indicate whether this visit had been pre-arranged with her or not. The next morning Madame D was found dead by strychnine poisoning. Monsieur Gustave was not observed on the premises again until, of course, 24 hours later. The identity of his accusers is made clear in this notarized deposition. They include, essentially, all members of the extended family, but the key witness who actually ostensibly saw the alleged events appears to have fled the jurisdiction. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but he's being sought and pursued by the relevant authorities. Who is he?
Get me Monsieur Martin at the Ritz Imperial, please.
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Too much salt. Not enough pepper- Take over.
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Robin? Martin. Too much salt. So I've heard.
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Agatha! Agatha! Are you all right? I think so.
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Uh, that's a migratory visa with stage three worker status, darling.
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That fucking faggot! He's a concierge. What are you doing here? I've come to pay my respects to a great woman whom I loved. This man is an intruder in my home! It's not yours yet, Dmitri. Only when probate is granted, and the Deed of Entitlement... You're not getting Boy with Apple, you goddamn little fruit!
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I'm afraid that's me, darling.
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Who's Gustave H?
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I can't believe it. "...the younger..." What? "...which gave us both so much pleasure." The van Hoytl? Tax-free? Can she do that?
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"To my esteemed friend who comforted me in my later years "and brought sunshine into the life of an old woman "who thought that she would never be happy again. "Monsieur Gustave H, "I bequeath, bestow and devise, free of all taxation "and with full and absolute fiduciary entitlement, "the painting known as 'Boy with Apple... Wow! "...by Johannes van Hoytl..."
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...during which he presented Agatha with a porcelain pendant and five dozen individually tissue-wrapped white tulips in a box the size of a child's coffin. It's not right. I beg your pardon? Why is he sulking? She's my girlfriend. You can't just buy her things. I'm only interviewing this vision of loveliness on your behalf. Never be jealous in this life, Zero, not even for an instant. Is he flirting with you?
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Here. Thank you. It's a book. I see. Romantic Poetry, Volume One. Monsieur Gustave recommended it. I have a copy of my own as well. I ruined the surprise, I suppose. I'll go ahead and open it, anyway.
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We did not have 50 Klubecks between the two of us. No one knew, of course, but, then, who would have cared? We were each completely on our own in the world, and we were deeply in love.