All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S11E06 (EN)

(theme music)

(unsettling music)

(door opening and closing)

♪♪♪

(men laughing)

(knocking)

(clanking)

(men talking indistinctly)

- Thank goodness you're here!

- Aaah, yes!

Our supply of victims
is running low.

- Tell me, Frye,
what is it that makes a man

rush back up a hill
he's fallen down

time and time again?

- Banerjee, I'm here to play.
Are you gonna let me in or not?

- No sense of humour
to be found here.

(sighing)

- Jarvis! You're out.

- Thanks for helping me, Jarvis.
- Bye, Jarvis.

- You've been replaced.

- You two ought to have learned
some manners by now.

- We are terribly unpopular
this evening, brother.

- Cheers, Jarvis.
We'll see you again

when "Papa" sends
your allowance.

- Damn darkies.
- Ugh!

- At least, we're not here
on scholarship.

- You know what?

One day, you boys are gonna get
exactly what you deserve.

- What did you say?

- Do you want the whole school
to hear you? Get back in there!

- Best let him go. Come on.

(indistinct chatter)

- Every time we move,
I think things will change.

They never do.
- This is unusual,

even for them.
(mechanical humming)

Hello?

- Can I help you?
- Yes, hello.

We were told to speak
to a Detective William Murdoch.

(mechanical humming stops)
- How may I be of assistance?

♪♪♪

- These are our sons,
Vik and Sunil.

They're missing.

- When did
your sons disappear?

- Their correspondence
ceased two weeks ago.

- Correspondence?

Do you not live in Toronto?
- I am an emissary

for the Raj,
posted in Ottawa.

- For the duration,
we placed our sons

at a boarding school,
Laird College.

- Laird College?
My wife would give my eyeteeth

to fix our boys
a spot up there.

- Two weeks missing,
and no one batted an eye.

The headmaster believed
we pulled them out of enrolment.

- Is it possible your sons
simply abandoned their studies?

- But they have nowhere to go.
We have no connections

in this country.
Something is wrong,

Detective.
- I understand your concern,

Mr. And Mrs. Banerjee.
We'll look into it.

- I'll see you out.
When I was in Afghanistan,

I fought alongside
some good Indian men.

I have a deep respect
for your part of the Empire.

- Perhaps I was
one of those men.

I fought that war as well.
- Ah, it was devilishly hot.

- Oh.
- Sand everywhere.

♪♪♪
- This withdrawal letter
found its way to my desk.

How was I to know
it was a forgery?

Tuesday the 14th.

- Aah... Aah! The same date

the parents stopped
receiving correspondence.

- It was likely written
by the Banerjee brothers

themselves.
- They were troublemakers then?

- Quite. For 25 years,

I've matriculated
both members of Parliament

and your run-of-the-mill
degenerates.

The Banerjee brothers
were the latter.

- Did you not find it suspicious
that they left behind all
of their belongings?

- It happens more often
than you'd expect

with the sons of diplomats.
Besides, I've been busy

interviewing professors for
our Department of Literature.

- I see.
Did the brothers associate

with any students
that we could interview?

- Yeah.

(indistinct chatter)
♪♪♪

- Hello, rabbit.
May I play with him?

- Her! No, you can't.

- Miss Clark!
Good afternoon.

Well, that's
an unusual encumbrance.

- I've just procured
my latest test subject.

- Oh, what's the experiment?
- Hormonal therapy.

She is barren, like yourself,
and I hope to synthesize

a medicine that may
help her conceive.

- A medicine?
And you say you're close.

- But not successful.
My experiment has reached

an impasse.
I will inform you

when I need a human subject.

- Perhaps I could assist you.

♪♪♪
(indistinct chatter)

- Frye, Moore, Jarvis.

Front and centre.

This is Detective Murdoch
and Inspector Brackenreid.

They have some questions for
you. Gentlemen, I have
business to attend to.

- Good day, gentlemen.

Uh, do you recall

the last time you saw
the Banerjee brothers?

- It has been a while.

- Did their absence
not alarm you?

What was the nature
of your friendship?

- We studied together.
That's it.

- Can you think of any reason
why they may have fled?

- We haven't the slightest.

- Do you have any knowledge

of their whereabouts?
- No, sir.

(indistinct chatter)

- (man): That'd be great,
thank you.

(distant phone ringing)

- What are you doing here?

- I've been in
since morning.

- Yes, but what are you
doing here?

- I'm a policeman.
- You weren't

always a policeman. You simply
put on a uniform and converted

as it were?
- I suppose.

- Fairly young
to be withering

your brain over paperwork.
In fact,

it's dangerous. How do you
intend to make room for wisdom?

- I intend to do my job.

- Hmm.

♪♪♪

Where does a young man
grow such certainty?

(exasperated sigh)
- I'm not certain.

I'm just "here" as you call it.

- I see. So you are not certain

you want to be a policeman.

(exhaling)

- They know something.
- I never said they didn't.

But they won't be telling us.
- Sir, I'm certain

if we interviewed them
separately, they would
respond to questioning.

- You seem to forget
what it was like to be young.

- Sir, when I was young,

I was happy to aid the police
as an amateur detective.

- Course you did, Murdoch.

- John! A moment?

- Are you out of your mind?!
We have more experienced
constables!

- Yes, but none that
are young enough.
- What is the case?

- Two boys have gone missing
from their boarding school,

and none of the students
will speak to us.

- And you think
they'll talk to me?

- Yes, if you're a student.

- Murdoch, he's hardly gotten
his feet wet.

- I never will
if you keep coddling me.

- Sir?
- Oh, all right.

- Hello, everyone. I'm John.

- Congratulations.

(chuckling)
- I need a seat.

- Glad to see
you found the class.

You lot won't be sitting
on your heels any longer.

I found your new literature
professor.

- Headmaster.
- All yours.

- Hello, all.
I am Professor Colin Matthews.

Today, we are set to embark

on the most epic of journeys
to the most exotic of locales.

Our destination,

Ancient Egypt.

(fake snoring)
(young men chuckling)

Oh, very funny.
The brightest of a generation,

and that's the best
you've come up with?

Now, the vessel

upon which we are about
to embark on our journey

is a novel by the criminally
underappreciated author

George Crabtree.

It is... Curse of the Pharaohs.

- Can we please have
something else?

- Why? You're not fond
of the book?

- The opposite. It's great.

- Oh, really?
What's your favourite, uh...

What is it
that makes it so "great"?

(door sliding shut)

- An infertile rabbit
is a rare specimen,

but three seems most unlikely.
Wherever did you find them?

- An exhaustive search
of the local farms.

They were glad to be rid
of their fruitless does.

- And the cause
of infertility?

- Well, their reproductive
organs function, but they cannot

enter a state of heat.
It suggests hormone deficiency.

- And you have a medicinal
treatment to address this?

- Chasteberry has been used

in folk-infertility remedies
since Ancient Greece.

I aim to extract
its medicine,

much the same way
as Aspirin was from willow bark.

- What have you tried so far?

- Using the coca leaf
as model,

I've created a paste
of chasteberry, water

and solvent,
yet the paste keeps reacting

to any chemical I add
to purify it.

- Well, unlike coca leaf,

chasteberry contains sugar.

If we suspend it in alcohol,

we can synthesize
the plant's medicine

without the live material
interfering.

- Yeah. It's worth
a fair shot.

(indistinct chatter)
♪♪♪

(indistinct chatter)
- Hey, come on!

- Gentlemen, could I have
your attention please?

Vik and Sunil Banerjee
are still missing.

If anyone has any information

as to their whereabouts,
you better come see me

at Station House Number 4.
Thank you.

(bell tolling)
Oy, you there!

I've not seen you before.

You wouldn't be avoiding
the constabulary by any
chance, would you?

- You haven't seen me
because I'm new.

- You better start adding a sir
to the end of your sentences.

- Sod off, sir.

- What did you just say?

Stand up!
Come here!

Let's see if you've got the
nerve to repeat yourself now.

Good. Seems to me

like you've learnt your lesson.

(exclamations)
- (student): No way!

- Excuse me, gentlemen,

your colleague and I need
to have a little chat!

(students chattering
and laughing)

When I said you could
get rowdy, I didn't mean

punch me in the face.
- It had to look real!

- As long as the right people
saw it.

- Constable Crabtree
doesn't need to be here.
I have this in hand.

- Oh, is that right?
So what do you know so far?

- Not much.

- Here, take this.

Maybe it will loosen
a few tongues. And be careful.

- Huh.
- Good punch by the way.

- Gerald Jarvis. Proud son
of Gordon Jarvis, the barrister.

- John Simpson, son of Thomas
Simpson, the whisky brewer.

- You got gumption, punching
that inspector like that.

- I don't like
to be pushed.

- I'm just surprised
you're not in jail.

- He was satisfied
to rough me up.

(knocking on door)
♪♪♪

- It's for you.

(John chuckling)

It took me ages
to get my invitation.

- What do you mean?

"Be ready in 15 minutes.
Bring money."

What is this?

- It's an invitation
to the real school.

(indistinct chatter)

- Tell me once more,

how did you fall?

- I walked into a door.

- No, you didn't.
What happened?

- John hit me.
- What?!

- Margaret, calm down
if you want to go to dinner.

I have no problem
instructing the driver

to turn this carriage around.

- Fine.

(sighing)
Go on.

- He walloped me
in front of the Laird students

so that they would adopt him
into their group.

- Oh, Thomas! Boys of such class

won't stand
for such abhorrent behaviour!

They'll think him a vagrant.

Now, he won't make
any connections there.

- You do understand
he's not really a student?

He's a police officer on duty!

- I know that!

I just hope that perhaps
his time at Laird College

might change his thinking.

- You won't let
that go, will you?

It's not my decision

that he follows in my footsteps,
it's his!

- You could discourage him.
- I have.

It seems that he's as stubborn
as his mother.

- Oh!

♪♪♪
(indistinct chatter)

(John chuckling)

♪♪♪

- Welcome.
- What is this?

- Much better than our fathers'
clubs, I can assure you.

No trite conversations
over brandy

and no pretending
we have influence

over things half a world away.

But we do have cigars.

- Cheers.

Hahaha!

- Those cards,

they're from France.
- Then I wanna go to France.

Where did you get them?
- The Banerjee brothers.

Apparently, their parents
were posted there for a time.

- Should have
stayed there.

- How do I purchase cards
from them?

- You can't. They're gone
and good riddance.

- What happened to them?
- Disappeared.

Conveniently the same night
that they lost a hideous
amount to me.

- (Moore): Quit complaining,
I covered their losses.

- Yeah, and you're
the house now.

So who's really winning?

- (Moore): If you wanna play,
you need money.

- I have something
even better.

A break from whatever vinegar
you're brewing in the corner.

- Your father's whisky!
Capital!

- Stay away from me.
- Get away!

- I didn't believe there'd be
enough spores to kill
seven Egyptologists.

One, perhaps two.
But seven?

- Well, Simpson,

that's called taking
"artistic license." Class,

were none of you drawn in

by the-the-the rich atmosphere

of Ancient Egypt?
- Not really.

- But some of
the descriptive passages here:

"The sandy desert

broken only
by the mighty Nile."

You know, uh, the Sphinx,

the, uh... Ah, the pyramid!

"The great pyramids,
both triangular and huge."

- I've been to Egypt,

unlike you who clearly has never
left the continent.

The only thing of note
about Egypt

is that it's unpleasantly hot.

- Frye, if you're not careful,

you'll be cynical
your whole life.

- Who cares?
None of this matters.

- All right, class.
That's enough for today.

- All right, OK.
(somber music)

- Meet me tonight.

♪♪♪

(woman giggling)

- Forbidden fruit?

- Nina. I regret,
I'm not in the mood.

Too jaded by the state
of today's youth.

- What do you mind?
You don't have to teach.

- I know it's all a ruse,

but if I could just reach
this one student...

- If I could just reach
this one teacher...

- I mean, his grades
were excellent in the past.

I feel he's just
given up on himself.

I know there's passion in him,

he just... he needs
to discover it.

- Well, then charm him.

I once had a Star Room customer
who never paid me any attention.

- It's hardly the same.
- Sure it is.

I tried everything
to intrigue him.

I even changed my costume,
inspired by his profession.

- Nina, I don't know if I want
to hear any more of this.

- I assure you the effort
was worth it.

The customer was you.

(Nina chuckling)
♪♪♪

Hmmm...

- (Julia Ogden):
Well, this is disheartening.

- She was the only doe
to receive the chemical.

The medicine appears
to be poisonous.

- I see.

- Not to say
I'm giving up.

- No, of course not.

Thank you
for letting me know.

(sad music)
Well, I should get back to work.

♪♪♪

- Something on your mind, Julia?

- It's nothing.

Just a slow day
at the morgue.

- Good news for the living.

- Ah...

I've just been thinking about

how I rely on my work so much

for my sense of purpose.

- The satisfaction
of a job well done

is one of life's
greatest pleasures.

- Is it wrong to want more?

- No.

But I've never known you

to be one to wait
for change.

You always create it.

Perhaps I've said
the wrong thing.

- On the contrary.

You said just what needed
to be said.

(soft music)

♪♪♪

- Nothing.
- What exactly
are we looking for?

- The Banerjees made a still
from science equipment.

I got the sense that they spent
a lot of time in here.

(creaking)

(creaking again)

Is that blood?

Where would that
have come from?

- John, get a petri dish
and some glue.

And I need...

- Found them.
- Violet phosphorous.

- What are you doing?

- I am illuminating
the invisible.

Violet phosphorous

absorbs visible light

and translates it

into ultraviolet radiation.

At least, I think
that's how the Detective put it.

Get the lights.

♪♪♪

If there's blood,

this will reveal it.

- So much blood!
- May have been

the perpetrator stepped
in his own victim's blood.

Seems to lead this way.
♪♪♪

Seems to me

a body was brought
from over there,

to this wall,

and then dragged back

as far as...

(creaking)

♪♪♪

(screeching)

- This hasn't been
cleaned out in ages.

- This top layer is fresh,

but it's the middle of June.

Look at this.
- What is that?

- Bone.

♪♪♪

- Do you know
who's responsible?

- Not yet. We need you
to keep this quiet.

We don't want
to tip the murderer.
- You have my word.

The fewer people who know
about this, the better.

- Excellent improvisation with
the ultraviolet light, George.

Just when I think
no one is listening.

- Oh, it was nothing, sir.
- What have you found?

- It's impossible
to determine so far, sir,

until we sift
through all of the ashes.

- And the shoe print?
- Sir.

Average size, average style.
Could be anybody's.

- Walter Moore.
- I beg your pardon?

- Walter Moore, one of the boys;
I'm certain he's involved.

- (Brackenreid): Why?
- He's taken over

the Banerjee's gambling
business. "Follow the money,"

you always say that.
If it is his shoe,

would there still be
traces of blood?

- There very well could be.
But if you want be sure,

use this.

(indistinct chatter)

- I have a special assignment
for you today, lads.

It should be a real treat.
Life-changing even.

I would like you each
to write your own obituary.

- A rather morbid turn
to your lectures.

- Not at all, Jarvis.
In fact, it will give you

cause to reflect on the things
that make life worth living.

I mean, we can sit around
reading about heroes
all you like,

or you can be the heroes.

The heroes in the stories
of your own lives.

- How would yours read, sir?
- I don't know, Mr. Moore,

I suppose it would go
something like, uh...

"Professor Colin Matthews is
survived by his beautiful wife

"and seven children.

"A virile gentleman
to say the least.

"His eulogy was delivered

"by his best friend, William

"Mmmm... Murphy.

"And he died

"the author
of Canada's universally praised,

"nay, lauded series,

The Secrets of Go Home Lake.

- Is that all?
(young men chuckling)

- If you imagine greater things
for yourself, Mr. Frye,

I implore you,

get to work.

Class...

♪♪♪

(indistinct chatter)

- Detective Watts,
are you occupied?

- In terms of police work, no.
- Are those--

- I borrowed these
from your desk.

- In the future, I would

appreciate it--
- You can't see out of them.

- They're meant
to see heat.

Eventually.
More work is required.

- Perhaps you might explain

why heat needs to be seen?
- I will,

on the way
to the storage shed.

- What's the task at hand?
- A messy one, I'm afraid.

♪♪♪

♪♪♪

- The dissection reveals
she was in heat

at time of death.
That's very unusual.

- But you were successful
in stimulating its hormones.

We should test
at a lower dosage.

- Even if it is safe for rabbits
it may not be for you.

- Well, I'm willing
to take the chance.

- You would put yourself
at risk for what?

The approval of your husband?
- It's not for his approval.

William very much wants a child,
and so do I.

♪♪♪

- Well, the other rabbits
aren't dead yet, Doctor.

I will inform you
when I have results.

- Thank you.

- What did you find?

- These bone
and tooth fragments...

but they're too damaged
to yield any information. You?

- Well, I found
these curious bits of metal.

- One of these teeth

has been hollowed out.

These must be amalgam fillings.

- Oh. Then we need to find out
if the boys had fillings.

Oh! Oh!

Detective, has it occurred
to you that we are, uh,

covered in human remains?

- Yes, it-it had, Detective,

but I'd hoped
to... keep it unspoken.

- Mm-hmm.
(Murdoch sighing)

- The new professor
is far too enthusiastic;

it's nearly indecent.
- Oh, he's all right.

Say, do you have
any of those postcards left?

- Only from my personal
collection. Why?

- I'll play you
for them.

If I lose, I'll trade you

my brand-new oxfords
for your ratty pair.

But if I win,
I get your collection.

- One draw only. Agreed?

- Deal.
♪♪♪

So why did you take over
the Banerjee club anyway?

- Why do anything?
For fun.

Draw or stay?

- Three please.

You must be happy they're gone.
No one seemed

to like the brothers.
- I had no quarrel with them.

- How about the rest?

- They didn't like them
because they were brown.

That's why they moved on.
- "Moved on"?

- Left this place.
They're cooking up

their next scheme as we speak.
- They are?

Draw or stay?
- I'm taking two.

Ready?

Flip.

- (sighing): Nothing.

- Four threes.

Can't beat a good player.

♪♪♪

♪♪♪

(indistinct chatter)

- Mr. Frye!
- What now?

- May I discuss
something with you?

You drew this caricature of me

in lieu
of your obituary assignment.

- You chased me to chastise me?

- Actually, I came to
commend you. It's quite good.

- I never asked your opinion.

- Also, I saw

some of the drawings you did
for the Laird Chronicle.

You gave them up.
- They bored me.

- Mr. Frye, why are you trying

at great lengths
to hide your talents?

- What do I need talent for?

Hmm? So I can write
the finest waybills

that my father's
shipping business has ever seen?

(George sighing)

- There's more to life
than just work.

You shouldn't turn your back--
- Just give it a rest, will you?

Professor Abrams
never meddled this much.

Is he ever coming back?

- Where did he go?
- Couldn't tell you.

He never said goodbye.

♪♪♪

- Vive la France!

(knock)

- I was wrong. There was nothing
on Moore's shoes. Not even dirt.

I was sure
it was him.

- Don't beat yourself up, John.
One piece of advice.

I'm sure Detective Murdoch
would say this

as would your father,
"In this line of work,

you're wrong
until you're right."

Come on.

- You have news, Inspector?
- There was a murder on campus--

- You're not saying--
- Let him finish, Padma.

- The victim had fillings

in the central incisor
and first molar.

Now, I have to ask
if either Vik

or Sunil had any such fillings?

- No, they didn't.

- So where are my sons,
Detective?!

- Sirs, I don't think the Ba...

Uh...

The... Come here!

- We'll be right back.
Excuse us.

- What is it, Crabtree?
- Sirs.

I've been filling a vacancy
in the Literature Department.

- We bloody well know that,
don't we?

- Yes. But why
is there a vacancy?

Sirs, look at
the last professor's agenda.

(unsettling music)
- He stopped writing
the same day

the boys disappeared.
- Not only that,

some of these illicit postcards
the boys have been selling
were in his possession.

- So he was
mixed up in their scheme.
- Well, I thought the same.

So I went by his rooming house.
Nobody's seen hide nor hair

of him, but none of his
possessions had been touched.

Sirs, what if
the Banerjee boys were not

the murdered? What if--
- The professor

found out what they doing
and threatened to expose them?

- Is everything
all right?

- The murder victim
may be a teacher.

- How terrible.

- Your sons may be
the killers.

- Sir, his dentist was able
to confirm it:

Professor Abrams
was indeed the victim.

- Any idea
where the brothers are?

- Tell him, John.
- Well, Walter Moore said

the brothers were "cooking up
a scheme as we speak."

At the time, I thought it was
a lie to cover up his guilt,

but now I think
he knows something.

- All right, but we've lost

a lot of time
on this case. Be swift.

- Sir.

(indistinct chatter)
(knocking on door)

♪♪♪

- That old bastard.

- Who's crossed John Simpson?

- The inspector I punched
wants me to investigate

the Banerjee brothers
in exchange for dropping

my assault charge.
- They care that much

about gambling?
- No.

These friends of yours
murdered a Professor Abrams.

The police are determined
to find them.

I don't envy
the Banerjees.

- Dear God.

- I can't believe
you ever associated with them.

- Take over for me.
I have something to attend to.

♪♪♪

- This one is in heat.

Point five percent
is the winning dosage.

- It worked! How wonderful!

Will you join me for
a libation to celebrate?!

- I do not partake
in the sorrows of drink.

- Well, I suppose
I'm on my own.

Let me know when you've
synthesized more of the hormone!

(door opening and closing)
- Let's put you back.

(men laughing)

- I followed Moore here.
This is his father's hotel.

I believe we'll find
the Banerjees here, sir.

- Let's get them then.
(indistinct chatter)

(woman laughing)
What's wrong?

- Should we wait
for some more Constables?

- Listen to me, son.

You and I are more than capable
of handling this. Come on.

Let's get a move on.

- I don't want your money!
Just get out!

- We can make
a better arrangement!

(loud knocking on door)
- Toronto Constabulary! Open up!

Stop right there
if you know what's good for you!

John, grab him!
- Simpson?

- It's Constable Brackenreid.
- My son!

- I didn't do anything. They
said the police were after them

for gambling. I didn't know
they were murderers!

- We didn't murder
Professor Abrams!
- Sunil, be quiet!

- His blood on your boot,

it will match the prints
of the murder scene.

- You... you have it wrong.
We were there,

but we didn't commit the murder.
We witnessed it.

- Tell us what happened.

- We went to the science lab to
get Frye the money we owed him.

(door closing)
(footsteps)

We heard two men come in,
so we hid.

(door opening)

(grunting and punching)
There was a fight.

We couldn't help him.

- (Murdoch): Did you see
who it was?

- We did not.
- You witnessed a murder,

but you never saw
a bloody thing?
- We were hiding!

- Did you hear
what they were arguing about?

- No.

It happened so fast
and they never spoke.

- What a load of bollocks!

- Why did you not simply
report it to the police?

- Somehow, we didn't think you'd
believe two Indian brothers who
ran an illegal gambling club.

- Maji! Papaji!

- Vik! Sunil!
- We didn't do anything,

I swear.
- Not another word, Sunil.

You will not speak
to our sons again

without our lawyer present.
- Lawyer or not,

the evidence is strong enough
without a confession.

♪♪♪

- You're leaving?

- I'm finished here.

- You were too sincere
for this place anyway.

- And what's your issue
with sincerity, Frye?

- I told you, none of this
makes any difference.

- I know you think
your father has your whole life

mapped out for you,
but if you turn your back

on your talents now, if you fail
to complete assignments,

if you fail to graduate,
you may never--

- "Fail to graduate"?
That's rich.

- You don't think I'll give
you a failing grade?
- It doesn't matter.

There are no consequences
for those who can afford it.

- What do you mean by that?

- Professor Abrams
tried to fail me,

but look, I'm still here.
Where is he?

♪♪♪

(drawer sliding open)

♪♪♪

♪♪♪
- Sir!

(knocking twice)

It wasn't them.

- Bring him in, George.

(door opening)
- Detective.

I'm relieved
you caught the murderers.

Laird College
can move on.

Shall I write my statement
or is testimony enough?

- Perhaps you should be
writing your confession.

- I beg your pardon?

- You murdered
Professor Abrams.

- (laughing):
Why would I do that?

- To protect Laird graduates
who are now in board rooms,

law firms, even Parliament

whose reputations
were built on your business

of selling flawless records
to the wealthy.

- How do you know that?

- Mr. Frye's report card,

complete with your signature

A flawless record.
One of many.

- He is an excellent student.

- Hardly.

Mr. Frye received
this failing grade

from Professor Abrams,

and yet your report
doesn't account for it at all.

Professor Abrams
threatened your income,

so you killed him.

- You have no evidence.
- On the contrary.

You left two key pieces
of evidence that night.

They both saw you.
- Impossible.

- They were hiding
in the very room.

- Well, then they couldn't have
seen me, it was too dark.

If that's what they told you,
they're lying!

- You're right.
They didn't identify you.

I did.

But how did you know
the room was dark?

You realise that amounts
to a confession?

- Well...

then there's nothing left
to say.

- I couldn't agree more.

Thank you, gentlemen.

♪♪♪

- Not just any policeman.
A published one.

- You're George Crabtree?
- See? All this time,

you've been in the presence of
one of your favourite authors.

- Wouldn't go that far.

Here.

It's my stab at
your obituary assignment.

♪♪♪

I drew my life
as an illustrator.

- Frye, this is excellent.

You know, if Curse of the Lost
Pharaohs ever goes into reprint,

which it is sure to,
perhaps you could draw

some of the scenes for it.
- All right.

But I don't work for free.

- So where are your boys?

- Assuring their mother
there will be no more trouble.

- Do you think that's true?
- Haha! I very much doubt that.

You saved my sons;

I'm in your debt.

- I had help.

- You must be proud of him.
- Yes, I am.

I'd be a lot prouder of him
if he wasn't a policeman.

He's capable
of so much more.

- That may be,
but don't forget

it's his path,
Inspector Brackenreid.

Let the Empire shape itself.
Good day, sir.

- Good day.
- (John): Take care of yourself.

I think I lost a friend.
- You're a policeman now, son;

that's gonna happen
quite a lot. Right then,

- Let's get back to work.
- Yes, sir.

♪♪♪

(theme music)

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