All language subtitles for Murder.on.the.Home.Front.2013.1080p.BluRay.x265-RARBG

The term "autopsy"
actually derives

from the ancient Greek autopsia,
meaning to see for oneself.

Julius Caesar's proved it was
the second stab wound,

the one to the heart,
that killed him.

Making it highly unlikely he had
time to say "et tu, brute?"

Not that anybody really cares,
but there you are.

If it's useful, it's yours,
free gratis, as they say.

Want some pie?

I'll never finish it.

Man: All right, everyone!

Bloody Germans,
who invited them?

And these Anderson shelters
are so damp and smelly.

I live just around the corner.

Ships that pass in the night?

Man: Chop-chop!

Women and children first,
please!

Get down to the shelter
as soon as you can!

We'll leave them to it,
shall we?

I don't even know your name!

I'm Alex.

Jane.

What's that?

Oh, him?

That's just, um...

Alfred.

Where are you going?

There's a raid on!

I'll take my chances.

We got a bottle of beer
in the...

Cupboard.

Oi, get into the shelter

unless you want to get blown
to pieces.

J“ it's that man again,
yes, that man again j“

j" it's that Tommy handiey
in view! J'

Dr. Collins?

D.i. Freddy Wilkins.
I've been calling.

We've got a murder.

Boarding house in kennington.
Come on.

Hope I didn't interrupt
your evening.

Professor Stephens
wasn't available.

Not in the least... been hoping
for a decent murder.

Haven't got close
to a crime scene yet.

There's nothing natural about
this girl's death,

I can assure you.

Landlady's called Clayton.

It's the usual lot...
Shop girls,

servicemen, some theatricals.

Lodger by the name of ziegler
found the body.

Evening.

Yeah.

Woman: She's all yours.

Time of death would be
a good start.

The onset of rigor mortis
is variable,

so I can only give you a window
in which death occurred.

Professor Stephens always gives
a definite time.

Well, I'm not as experienced
as he is,

so my opinion will have to be
based on facts, not intuition.

Do we have a name?

Mary Williams.

Let's establish common approach.

Nobody should walk
across this floor.

It's all right, we don't mind
a little blood on our shoes.

I'm protecting the crime scene,
not your brogues.

And can I have
that sandwich bagged?

I need to examine it.

No need, sir.
That's mine, that is.

This is a crime scene,
not a Lyon's tea shop.

Brady, go and clear the stairs
or something, will you?

Okay, guv.

Right, you lot, down the stairs!

Come on, sir, that's the way.

Keep going, keep moving.
This is a crime scene.

Excuse me, miss.

Do you mind?
I just need to get to my room.

I need to change my stockings.

I'm sorry.

Look, they've laddered

right to the top.

Yeah, fine, uh, right.

Everybody else, down the stairs.
Thank you very much.

Collins: Rigor mortis
in the small muscles

of the right lowerjaw.

Elbow stiffening.

I'd say she's been dead between
four and six hours.

Don't touch that, please.

May have been used
to strangle her.

Woman: Don't upset yourself,
Mr. Ziegler.

It must have been awful
finding her like that.

I'll get you a cuppa.

It's always good to
calm your nerves.

Shh!

Shh!

Collins: Appears to be some
damage to the tongue.

Bloody Nora!

You are?

I live upstairs.

Mrs. Clayton,
who is this young lady?

Well, isn't she with you?

Right. Out. Go, get out of here.

Go on, get out.

Collect all trace evidence...

Makeup, hair brush, clothes,
pillow cases, everything.

Hang on, hang on.

Professor Stephens doesn't ask
for all these things.

Well, he should.

- Are you the pathologist?
- Yes.

Mind if I ask a few questions?
—yes.

My editor will give me
a bollicking

if I don't get a decent story.

One quote from you and I'm safe.

Sorry, you're not the only
one trying to make

a good impression.
—no, go on, please.

Most girls would have passed out
at the sight of that corpse.

You didn't bat an eyelid.

Always had
a strong constitution.

True crime, get it every week.

That's what I really want
to do —- write crime stories.

Guy's hospital,
quick as you like.

Get in, then.

We're a bit shorthanded.
Apparently there's a war on.

Can't say I noticed.

Well, it's the mortuary
assistant's wedding anniversary

- so you'll have to do.
- Do what?

- Your name again?
- Molly Cooper.

From the south London gazette.

Collins:
Trouble is, miss Cooper,

nobody really wants
to work in a morgue,

but, well, the war's given us

a unique opportunity to expand
our medical knowledge.

Horrible as it is.

You do have typing
and shorthand, don't you?

- Why?
- You'll need them.

Just a few questions.

The victim, what was the nature
of her injuries?

You can see for yourself.

Type up my notes as we go along.

Uh... use that.

Molly: Your notes?

- I'm here to...
- We haven't got all night.

But...

Right. Ready?

Mm-hmm.

Caucasian. Female.

Late 208, brunette.

Blue eyes.

No birthmarks on
the anterior aspect.

Small mole on the left shoulder.

There's a subcutaneous bruise
to the neck,

possibly caused by a thumb,
and a strange odor,

which I can't place.

Tongue.

Tongue.

Cross, resembling a swastika,

incised on the dorsal aspect.

Collins: There is a stamp...
Ink, the letter "" m, right hand.

- Been dancing then, has she?
- Excuse me?

The stamp, they do that
to prove you paid.

She must have been out
the west end,

masquerade, Morocco...
One of them.

Bleeding minimal.

Gravity's the only thing moving
the blood at this point.

Victim was well-accustomed
to sexual intercourse.

You can't talk about
the poor girl like that!

She has external signs
of venereal disease

and chronic liver damage.

Even so, she was out most nights
with freshly-painted nails

and traces of previous
dance hall stamps on her hand.

Mary Williams
was a good time girl.

A corpse can tell you a lot
if you know how to listen.

Night, then. Thanks for...

The interview.

I'll see you tomorrow morning,
9:00 sharp.

Syou will? Why?
El'm going to need an assistant

with good typing and shorthand

and no objection
to blood and guts,

and you fit the bill.

I've already got... a job.

Thanks.

I'll match your current wage
out of my own pocket.

Come on, miss Cooper.

I'm going to be at the heart of
every important investigation

in London,
you'll be there with me.

Can't think of a better
education for a crime writer.

Can you?

I won't be coming in
to work today,

or tomorrow for that matter.

I know it's short notice,

but I've decided to become
a land girl.

I'm off to the country. Bye!

Ah, you must be the new girl.

Charlie Maxton,
mortuary assistant.

Take this to the photography
department, would you?

Of course. What's in it?

Mary Williams' tongue.

Best not get too attached
to the stiffs, miss.

Hmm.

Ugh!

Just put it anwvhere you like.

And you are?

I'm Dr. Collins' new assistant.

Bit of advice —— don't wear
anything you Cherish to work.

Blood, innards,
the dread brains.

That's all I'm saying.

Use this,
then throw it in the bin.

Thanks.

What happened to her?

Husband bludgeoned her to death
with an axe handle

then claimed it was bomb damage.

How horrible!

Woman: Almost as horrible
as the decor.

What was she thinking?
And the saucepans were reeking.

It seems odd to Chuck people
injail for bad morals,

but not for being
physically dirty.

Give me a clean prostitute over
a dirty housewife any day.

Swine will probably get off

on the grounds his wife was a
filthy so-and-so with no taste.

I'm joking.
It helps in this job.

I hope they hang the bugger.

I'm issy, by the way.

I should buy you a drink
after work.

Be rude not to.

Man: "There are three waves
in an investigation.

"The first is the study
of the clues;

"the second is
the study of the crime;

the third wave is to study
the psyche."

Suspect's patterns of behavior

need to be taken into
consideration.

We need to share information
with other departments.

Psychology, for instance.
We can help each other.

Working with the police is
the way of securing convictions.

Too many mistakes
are still being made.

With all due respect.

Man: I fear the only mistake
I've made recently

is appointing you
to the teaching staff.

You're only here because the war
has taken our best men.

Nobody in this department
publishes an article

without my approval,
you remember that.

And smarten yourself up.
You look like a vagrant.

Charlie: That sounds like
professor Stephens, all right.

He likes to be cock of the walk.

You see, his opinion is taken
as being indisputable.

They say he can tell
the cause of death

just by smelling a corpse.

Ohh!

There's not much about killing
he doesn't know.

His evidence has sent many
a man to gallows, miss Cooper.

Collins:
The voice box fractured.

There was a blood clot
on the upper horn,

pressure applied to the throat
while the victim was alive.

Not the scarf, then?

No, manual. Scarf wouldn't have
caused a fracture.

The pressure was sustained,
blocking the upper ainivay,

causing the victim
to asphyxiate quickly.

Indentation of the thumb
indicates with the right hand.

Uh, lie on the floor, please.

Trauma to the left
abdominal flank

suggests somebody knelt on her,

using the left hand to carve
the swastika into her tongue.

Like so.

Thank you, miss Cooper.

Only one thing doesn't
make sense.

You wouldn't use a knife with
your weaker hand, would you?

Could be ambidextrous.

My cousin Alfred is.
He can write with both hands.

Thick as a plank, though.

Crimes like this aren't usually
committed in pairs,

so it's possible.

Exactly. Who's ever heard of
"Jack and Jill the ripper"?

Word is she had a different man
back every night.

The other tenants heard voices
coming from the kitchen,

but nobody actually saw
the man she was with.

He was in the kitchen?

I want to go back to miss
Clayton's boarding house now.

Why?

Locard's exchange principle,
the most important factor

in the development
of forensic science.

Exchange of evidence.

If the killer was in
that kitchen with her,

he'd have left a little piece
of himself behind.

Even a fiber from his coat may
help identify him.

I'd be happier with a witness.

This is much better than
a witness, inspector Wilkins.

Physical evidence
cannot perjure itself.

It cannot be wholly absent.
You, too, miss Cooper.

Quick as you like.

Looks like a 250—pounder,
what do you think?

Collins: Oh, bugger.

Freddy: That's wilfred ziegler,
the one who found the body.

Landlady said he was always
pestering the girls.

Mr. Ziegler...

Ziegler: Everything's gone!

Everything!

Can we have a word
about Mary Williams?

I warned her.

I told her,
“stop seeing those men.

They don't respect you."

She wouldn't listen.

These yours?

Ziegler: I collect them.
They're artistic.

Just out of interest, how did
you come by the name "ziegler"?

Ziegler: My father was German.

Hmm.

I was born here.

What do you make of that?

"I warned her"
is practically a confession.

I wouldn't say that.
Seems to me he liked her.

9! Wasn't asking you.
9! Wouldn'tjump to conclusions,

inspector, he's left—handed ——
It's unlikely he strangled her.

And if the killer was
ambidextrous like she said?

She's got a name, you know.

Well, I think we can assume
we found the kitchen,

though preserving the crime
scene might be a bit tricky.

Well, I think I know what
the "m" stands for.

"Metropol." —that makes sense.

It's a night club in town,
mostly a young crowd.

Mary Williams' last port
of call by the looks of it.

It's dated the night she died.

Molly: Why would he
incriminate himself?

Freddy: His name's ziegler,

and there was a swastika
carved on the tongue.

Lots of people with
German names,

it doesn't mean
they're fascists.

Collins: If he was, he'd have
been interned by now.

Freddy: I'm gonna
check out the metropol,

see what I can find.

Mind if I tag along?

Man: Ladies and gentlemen,
the metropol

is proud to present
Mr. Ken "snakehips" johnsonl

Got a light?

I don't want to ruin your night,

but have you ever seen
the lungs of a smoker?

Disgusting.

Swollen and black with tar.

A simple yes or no
would have been fine.

You don't happen to have
a light, do you?

Now, that's what I call
a gentleman.

Hello, darling.

Freddy: Bloody singles night,
apparently.

Nobody wants to come fonivard.

They're all worried their wives
or husbands

will know they've been out
painting the town red.

We don't even know if she met
the killer here.

I don't follow.

You want to know
what soap we use?

It has a very distinctive smell.

That's because it's scraps,

mixed into a bar, like
the government said we should.

Which kinds?

Woman: We use whatever we have.

Pilot and sunlight.

And to be honest, I add
a bit of coconut oil.

I like the smell.

Thank you.

The killer washed his hands
here, I'm positive.

Freddy: Brady.

- G uv?
- I want to see everyone

in the building who was here
last night... everyone.

Now.

Brady: Consider it done.

Ooh, you look ritzy!

Sorry I'm late.

Bloody Nazis
bombed our crime scene.

I've had enough of this blitz,
haven't you?

It's completely ruining my
social life.

You know, they even setup
a make—shift morgue

at the back of my house.

As if I don't get enough of it
at work.

Of course, a bomb hits it
and there's arms and legs

and god knows what
all over my mother's azaleas.

Said she'll never eat
red meat again.

How are you settling in?
—so far, so good.

How will we ever find a husband
stinking of dead people?

I don't want a husband,
I want excitement.

In a morgue?

I want to be at every
crime scene, every autopsy,

every trial... I can get some
great ideas for stories.

I want to be a writer, you see.

Well, in the meantime,
we've been rationed long enough.

Let's live a little.

Madam, I'll be
two minutes, all right?

Freddy: Well, most seem to have
a convincing alibi.

Brady's gonna check them out,
but...

There are three that cannot
prove their whereabouts

for the time Mary Williams
was murdered.

Danny Hastings.
He owns the place.

Got a criminal record
from a few years back.

She was seen dancing with
that soldier...

Private Norman Beckett.

He claims to have gone on
to another club,

but he can't remember
what it was called.

And this chap,
our final suspect —...

Pawel rosanski.
Polish emigre, lives nearby.

Comes here most nights.

He left early and went home ——
Alone.

Studied at the university
in Warsaw.

Escaped through France and now
works in a munitions factory.

I had no choice, I had to leave.

They were killing
the intelligentsia.

And they will do the same here
when they invade.

I can assure you, Mr. Rosanski,
they will not find it

so easy to conquer britain
as they did Poland.

May I see your hands?

They don't look like you work
in a munitions factory.

I scrub them.

I'm not so used to the dirt,
to being a... robotnik.

What was your relationship
with the deceased?

My relationship?

I like to chat with
the customers.

I don't remember anybody
called Mary.

Freddy: And you were here,

asleep in the back room
all night?

Mm-hmm. My lodgings were hit so
this is home for the time being.

It is safer down here
than Churchill's bunker.

Do you mind if I ask...

Not that I'm being cheeky
or nothing -...

Why would I want to bump off
my own customers?

And you claim to have never
spoken to Mary Williams?

I spoke to a lot of girls.
What's so special about her?

And where did you go after you
left this other club?

Straight back to the barracks.

We can't all be in a reserved
occupation, can we?

Somebody's got to do
the fighting.

Did anyone see you come in?

They were fast asleep.

Now, if you don't mind,
I'm sorry this girl

got herself done in,
but I've got a drink out there.

So, what do you make
of that lot?

Rosanski wears his watch
on the left wrist.

Hastings has tar stains
on the right finger, so...

Both probably right—handed.

And Beckett?

Beckett's a cocky bugger.

Man: Can you type?

Woman: I'm a touch typist.

Man: That's just the type
I want.

If I dictate to you,
can you take it?

Bung up the keyholes with soap,
I'm working late tonight.

Tender my child, what speed?

Woman: You'd be surprised.

Collins: Her name
is Iris Radcliffe,

and she recently had a baby.

Eh?

Green ration book for
pregnant women

and nursing mothers only.

Good time?

Can't remember much about it.

What did mine do again?

Uh, gunner, I think.

Issy: Of course he was.

I always get a bit "khaki wacky“
with the hooch in me.

Could do without Freddy
being so grumpy.

My brain's gone awol.

That smell again.
The tongue's been mutilated.

The Nazi strangler.

Miss, I'd be grateful if you
kept your opinions to yourself.

It's talk like that will make
women hysterical

as soon as somebody looks
at them the wrong way.

People are jumpy enough
as it is.

Put that down!

If you have to pick
something up, use rubber gloves.

This is a crime scene,
not a bloody church fete.

Guv.

There you go.
Make yourself at home.

Ziegler: No!

What are you looking at?

Iris Radcliffe's tongue.

In the relative absence
of bleeding

andlack of any information,

I'd say the tongue
was out after death.

It was the same
with Mary Williams.

He must have come back
to cut the swastika.

How was the cafe de Paris
last night, busy?

Who says I was
at the cafe de Paris?

You were dancing
cheek-to—cheek somewhere.

You've got stubble rash and you
smell of chart house aftershave.

Lipstick on your neck, your own.
Someone was getting amorous.

Cafe de Paris seems the likely
spot as you haven't got a stamp

and it's one of the few places
that doesn't use them.

If you're so interested,
I'll take you along next time.

Well...

Two left feet.

Anyway, I'd prefer to have you
at your best in the morning.

And I'd prefer if you'd keep
your exchange principles

for the stiffs.

Look what I found
in the bandstand.

Jigger button
from a double-breasted suit.

Not only that... human hair,
dyed black, not the victim's.

Should be able to trace the dye.

Molly: So, if you match
this hair

to one of our suspects,
you've got your man.

Not quite. A hair's not as good
as a fingerprint,

but it could narrow things down.

So if Freddy finds a suspect
with a double-breasted suit

missing an inside button
who dyes his hair, then...

Charlie: Basement, everybody,
chop—chop!

Woman over P.A.: Could all
staff and patients

please make their way
to the shelter.

Have you noticed he wears the
same thing to work every day?

Charlie thinks it's the only one
he's got,

and look at the state of it ——
Hardly the swankiest.

Molly: When I die, I'm coming
back as a man.

- It is so much easier.
- —Isn't it?

I mean, it's not as if he isn't
attractive

or brilliant or anything, but...

Imagine the pillow talk.

Murder and mayhem...
Who'd really want that?

Really?

You don't wonder what affect
all that cutting up has

on the cutter upper?

This is Mr. Carver
of home intelligence.

And Mr. Granger,
one of his investigators.

He's interested in the double
murder you're working on.

Collins: Home intelligence?

We've been set up
by the ministry of information

to report
on the state of morale.

I see.

The public are nervous,
Dr. Collins.

They see
fifth columnists everywhere.

We'd like to make sure this case
doesn't get too much publicity

and comes to a conclusion
as quickly as possible.

Stephens: Inspector Wilkins
thinks he's got his man.

Half German, probably Nazi.

He leaves a swastika
on the victim's tongue.

The swastika isn't only a symbol
of Nazi Germany, of course,

it's widely used in hinduism,
buddhism.

It can be traced back to ancient
India, found in Roman mosaics.

But we're not at war with
the Roman empire, Dr. Collins.

Stephens: Your job is to support
the police,

not impose your own theories.

We need this man locked up.

He'll be executed, professor,
not just locked up.

Stephens: So?

We're just sending faulty goods
back to the manufacturer.

Surely you can find some proof

that this man ziegler was in
that girl's room that night.

Unfortunately,
the girl's boarding house

has been destroyed in a raid

so any transfer of evidence
has been lost.

Carver: Transfer of evidence?
Enlighten me?

Well, for example,
that cigarette butt

that your colleague,
Mr. Granger, stubbed out

could prove that he was here
this afternoon.

Fingerprints, I presume.

- —There may not be a clean print.
- Because it's his brand?

No, pall mail's common enough.

He means we might be able to
tell his blood group

from his saliva depending on
whether he was a secretor... no.

Not only that, professor, it
will have traces of hair tonic,

the same tonic that Mr. Granger
uses every morning.

It may just be enough
to sway a jury.

Hmm.

Keep me informed
of your progress.

If you don't mind.

Collins: Probable cause of death
is strangulation.

Small purple,
subcutaneous bruise

on the right side of the neck

and four small ones on the left

suggest a right-handed attacker.

Rigor mortis advanced; She died
within hours of Mary Williams.

Two in one night?

I take it ziegler hasn't
confessed.

Not yet. We're going to hold him
a little longer.

I'll need hair samples from him,
Beckett, Hastings, and, uh...

-Rosanski? —rosanski.

That won't be possible just yet.
Beckett's absent without leave.

Little bit suspicious,
don't you think?

I'll let you know
when we find him.

Oh, some of those papers
you wanted.

An innocent man
could hang for this.

Wouldn't be the first time.

I! Hear you knockin'
but you can't come in j'

j' I know you've been
drinkin' gin j'

j“ you've been cheatin' round
with other men j'

j' I'm busy
and you can't come in... j'

recognize any of them?

I don't see any sign
of rosanski.

But that's Hastings, I'm sure.

Follow me.

Try not to say too much, you'll
stick out like a sore thumb.

Man: Good evening.
What can I get you?

Gin and tonic, please.

Would you like one?

Don't mind if I do.

I haven't seen you here before.

First time.

You one of them women coppers,
then?

I take that as an insult.

My uncle Fred's in pentonville
for something he never done.

No offense.

It's just the old bill
have been all over the place

since that poor cow was done in.

You're forgiven.

I'm Molly.

That's Isobel.

I'm Danny.

Do you fancy a dance?

Charlie: Private Norman Beckett
to see you.

Found in an opium den in soho.

A regular, apparently.

Light, Charlie.

Greenish hue in the right
iliac fossa.

That would take at least two
days to appear.

He must have died
just after we questioned him.

Overdose?

It's rare to die
from smoking opium,

but if he's injected
a derivative,

which I think he has,
then it's possible.

Still think he's
our main suspect?

This doesn't mean
he didn't kill those women.

If nobody claims the body,
I'd like to keep it.

Uh, research into the effects
of drug addiction.

What are you smiling for?

I'm just wondering
what you're doing here.

We don't usually get
the best sorts, you know?

I can look after myself.

My aunt queenie's got
a punch like a docker.

Well, as your aunt queenie's
not here...

I'll have to walk you home.

Hastings: It's a bomber's moon,
and no mistake.

Still, you ought to carry
a torch when you're out.

The dilly ain't safe these days.

With troop ships in and out,
you've gotta watch.

They're using the blackout
to rape and murder

and there's nothing nobody
can do about it.

It's the taxis I'm
more worried about!

They're bloody lethal!

Hastings: To be honest, some
people are doing very nicely

outta this bleeding mess.

It's not a “bleeding mess, “
it's a war against fascism.

Well, my old man died
in the last one.

It didn't do me much good.

And all I was left with was
a whore of a mother.

That's no way to talk
about your mum.

You didn't know her.
She was from Malaya.

My old man met her when he went
to work in the tin mines.

Tiny little thing,
but what a temper.

Beat me black and blue, she did.

I can make the rest
of the way on my own.

Hastings: Are you sure?

Sorry, did n't mean
to go on like that.

It's all right.

Hastings: I was wondering,

think we could see
each other again?

It's ladies' night on Tuesday.

Drinks are half price.

Maybe.

But like I said,
I'm fine from here.

I'll see you, then.

Oh, you can tell
your friend Isobel

she can stop following us now.

Good night, ladies.

Man: Very nice, too, sweetheart,
thank you.

Man #2: Grab what you can.
We ain't got long.

Blimey, what the...

Come on! Quick!

Let's get out of here!

So, I've been thinking, guv,
somebody might have put her here

deliberately, hoping we'd think
she was killed in the raid.

I don't think so.

- See what else you can find.
- Right, guv.

Molly: I spoke
to Danny Hastings last night.

You what?

Wanted to get under his skin.

Like you said in your article,
three waves.

Third is the psyche.

That was irresponsible
and dangerous.

Well done.

His mother beat him
black and blue, apparently.

Freddy: Seen this, Dr. Collins?

This girl, I saw her the night
we were at the metropol.

- Swastika?
- Yes, and the lack of bleeding

suggests the tongue
was out after death.

The wound to the temple, though,
appears to be antemortem.

Our killer may have
some of that blood on him.

Time of death? Vaguely?

I'd say about 48 hours ago.

That's when we were
in Hyde park.

That's after Beckett died,
before we picked up ziegler.

Brady: Guv.

Collins:
When will you lot learn?

Put it down.
This is a crime scene, not —...

Yes, I know.

Freddy: It's not the victim's.

She's still got hers.
That could belong to our killer.

Collins: Specks of blood
on the visor.

Let's get it back to the lab...

Hopefully we'll find
some saliva on it.

If it matches ziegler's, that
will be the nail in his coffin.

Do you find it strange he keeps
dropping these cards about?

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Ayoung woman was attacked
around here last night.

Did you see anything?

Maybe.

But we can't talk here.

I was with a regular.

In the alleyway
behind the department store.

That's where we usually go,
and I saw he had stains

on his jacket, so I says to him,
"what's that, then?"

And he says a man came out
of the dark

with blood on his hands
and ran straight into him.

This regular, what's his name?

My customers hear I'm bandying
names about, I'll lose trade.

Not to mention the old bill.

I can't go to prison, I wouldn't
last a week in there.

We'll keep you out of it,
I promise.

Well?

Well, I'm not a charity,
you know.

This is just for
information, right?

You sure you don't want...

Anything else?

Um, no,
information's fine, thanks.

He doesn't give a name.

He doesn't have to. He's famous.

Ronald Terry.

Now, he won't want people
to know that he's a queer.

He'd be finished playing
the hero then, wouldn't he?

My darling, don't cry.

It won't be forever.

I'll be back soon, I promise.

Dry your tears,
and remember, we're young!

We have the rest of our lives
ahead of us...

Good grief! I hope this isn't
a wild goose chase.

I wouldn't know, inspector,
that's your department.

Shh!

Not even this damned war!

Crowd: Hear, hear!

Dear heart!

These men have been in my eye
line through the entire scene!

What on earth
are they doing here?

Ohh!

Chorus: I britons never, never,
never shall be slaves! J“

You must understand, I didn't
come forward about what I saw

because there wasn't much
to tell.

Mr. Terry, importuning
means prison.

With all due respect,
you're protecting yourself.

The police aren't
interested in you,

are they, inspector?

Three young women
have been murdered.

The man you bumped into
may have killed them.

He could kill again.

You need to tell the police
what you saw.

If I give evidence,
my career will be over.

This man you saw,
what was he wearing?

Does this jog your memory?

Did he have a limp?
—I honestly can't remember.

Could you pick him out
of an identity parade?

I'm not sure.

Mr. Terry, you were seen in
the vicinity of the crime,

covered in the victim's blood!

You're not only a witness,
you're a possible suspect.

If it's not this man,
it must have been you.

I suggest you take another look.

Perhaps. It could be.

Collins: Do you have somewhere

I can examine thejacket
you were that night?

For this to work,
I need total darkness.

Turn the light out.

Freddy: How did you do that?

Collins: Luminol. Freddy: Eh?

Collins: Reacts with the iron
stored in red blood cells.

Freddy: Terry needs a bit of
laundry service, doesn't he?

Collins: Turn the light on.

Jigger button's still there.

But it's new,
sewn with a different thread.

Well, what do you know?

I could see what you were doing.

You intimidated him; He'd say
anything to save his own skin.

And at last we have a witness.

Who is a suspect, too.
You said it yourself.

I said what needed to be said.
I'm charging ziegler.

- You can't!
- I'm sorry?

Terry replaced the jigger button
on this suit.

He lost one, we found one.

If the blood on this is the same
as the victim's -...

No murders have been committed

since ziegler was taken
into custody.

If I release him,
he'll kill again.

And I can't live with that.

Freddy: Wilfred ziegler,
I'm charging you

with the murders
of Mary Williams,

Iris Radcliffe, and Wilma grey.

Do you wish to say anything
in answer to the charge?

You're not obliged
to say anything

unless you wish to do so,
but whatever you say...

Charlie?

Looters.

Someone must have left
a window open.

The gas mask, the one we found
at the bombed department store.

Sweet dreams.

Boss: You mean the kettle
won't boil?

Man: No, boss,
it won't come down!

Boss: Oh! Sit down and we will
work out the details

of this foul plot.

Yes, sir. —so, what's next?

I will Polish it offi a-hal

Oh, very funny.
Yes, that's right.

I finished him off!

Man: And there's no chance
of you being here tonight?

Man #2: Tonight or not tonight,
that is the question.

Man #1: There's no question
about it.

Well, if he's acting now,
he's bloody good.

Leave it. I need that towel.

Slight swelling to the right
side of the head.

Traces of stage makeup

in the right earlobe
and the upper right neck.

Wounds to the left
and right wrists

severing the arteries,

but there don't look to be
any hesitation marks.

Note that the front of
the victim's shoes are scuffed.

A man like Terry would never go
out with scuffed shoes.

And, uh, pall mall.

Could be useful.

Thank you, miss Cooper.

Well, dust the knife for prints.
You may be looking at murder.

You're not serious.

There's very little blood
around the sink.

If that's where he cut
his wrists, there should be.

Somebody knocked him out,

dragged him into that room
and cut his wrists.

You have to ask yourself
who and why.

The Nazi strangler because Terry
could identify him.

Apart from the fact that
the Nazi strangler

is in a cell under arrest.

Wilfred ziegler is not
the only suspect.

Hastings and rosanski do not
have proper alibis either.

Freddy: Dr. Collins,
this is pure speculation.

Terry killed himself.

I'm telling you,
we've got our man.

He was wonderful in “London
cavalcade, “ wasn't he?

My good lady wife always
wanted his autograph.

Could be tricky.

Charlie: What was that one with
flora Robson called again?

That gas mask hasn't turned up,
has it?

No, that wasn't it.
"Good queen Bess."

Marvelous, that was.

I'm talking about the gas mask
they found near Wilma grey,

the girl found
at the department store.

Oh, that.
No, definitely gone, miss Molly.

Blood patterns depend
on numerous factors.

The size of the knife,
the force used.

I'm aware of that,

but those aren't the only signs
of a suspicious death.

Because his shoes were scuffed?
Good morning.

I see nothing to suggest
he died anywhere

but in the theater
by his own hand.

Save your skills
for a more deserving victim.

I don't understand.

The man was a pervert.

As far as I'm concerned,
he got his just deserts.

What if this is linked
to the ziegler case?

Terry was a suspect.

Awitness, at the very least.

He could have been killed
to stop him giving evidence.

Look, our department has
bomb blast victims

piling up in the corridors.

Now, you do your job.

You deal with them.

Home, please, Robert.

Collins: As I thought,
Mr. Terry couldn't have done it.

Arthritis of the hands.

Limited use of the fingers.

Couldn't have strangled
a kitten.

Hastings smokes pall mall.
He gave me one in the metropol.

- You're very sure it's him.
- Aren't you?

And rosanski?

Hastings knows the girls that go
to the club, they'd trust him.

Dr. Collins, miss, uh...
My office now, please.

Issy: Not you, darling,
you can stay put.

It was only a matter of time
before the story leaked.

Was it? Why?

These women have family,
friends.

And your secretary was until
recently a journalist.

You still have friends
in the press, miss Cooper?

I do, but I haven't spoken
to them about this.

The last thing
the home secretary wants to do

is gag the press,
but it may well come to that.

I'm sure miss Cooper wouldn't
damage the investigation.

Stephens: Perhaps it would
be better

if miss Cooper were to find
employment elsewhere.

Collins: Absolutely not.

I couldn't find anyone
as good as her.

It's not a request, Collins.

I'll decide who works
in my department, not you.

Well, if she goes, so do I.

It's not my intention
to have anyone sacked.

I quite simply want to know
how this got into the press

and to make sure that
any further details do not.

You ready to confess,
Mr. Ziegler?

Confess?

I didn't kill anyone.

We have evidence
that says you did.

One of those postcards
you like to collect

was found near the second
victim, and the third.

And to be honest, the judge
isn't gonna like

that German name of yours
one little bit.

He's gonna hang you.

But if you save us
the bother of a trial,

that will go in your favor.

You'll get a nice, cozy cell
for the rest of your life.

Plenty of room for postcards.

Life or death.

You choose.

Ziegler just confessed.

If they go ahead with this,
I'll have to provide

reasonable doubt
for the defense.

What defense? He's admitted it.

I could have sworn
it was Hastings.

Doctor, how can I help you?

Mr. Hastings.

Ronald Terry, the actor,

he's been found dead
in suspicious circumstances.

And what's that old pansy's
death got to do with me?

You knew him well, then?

You'd be surprised what
you learn

about the great and the good
in my business.

He could have identified the man
who killed those women.

Are you trying to say I killed
those girls as well?

No.

But just to eliminate you
from the investigation...

I would like to take a sample

from underneath
your fingernails.

You keep this up,
and you're liable to upset me.

Never mind.

This will do.

You really are a tonic,
Dr. Collins.

Thanks.

As much as I've enjoyed
our chat,

I think you should stop making
these accusations about me.

More for your sake than mine.

I think people might think
you were a bit crackers.

Collins: Is that your father?

Mm-hmm.

The lady with him...

She looks Asian.

Hastings: Yeah, that's
my mother.

She's very beautiful.

Skin deep, as they say.

My mother was the same.

Didn't spare the rod, either.

Leaves a great deal
of anger, doesn't it?

I'm not sure what you're
talking about.

Ernie will show you out.

Hello. Can I help?

Get them!

Stay where you are!

Bloody hell.

What happened?
The house fall on you?

Bruising to the lower abdomen
and rib cage.

Left side of the jaw swollen,
loose tooth, nothing serious.

I hope for your sake we don't
have an air raid right now.

Collins: Ah, just in time.

I want something taken down.

I have traces of skin and hair
from the finger nails

from one of the attackers.

Blue substance on the nose.

Chalk.

And one piece of lining
from an overcoat.

Silk. Orangey, bluey brown.

Don't know what color that is.

Manufacturer should be traced.

I've seen some of the corpses
looking better than you.

Have these.
You can't go home like that.

Belonged to the gent
in fridge 3.

Hit by a tram.

Just a little bit of blood
on the collar, that's all.

Where were you when all
this happened, anyway?

I paid a visit to Hastings.

Without me?

Just thought I'd ask him
a few questions,

put him on the spot,
see how he'd react.

That was a bit irresponsible
and dangerous.

Well done.

Considering he was playing
billiards at the time

and the powder on my face
is cue chalk,

I'd say I touched a nerve.

Oh, better be off.

See you tomorrow.

Cafe de Paris again?

Uh...

No.

Issy's taking me to a new club,
but don't worry.

I'll be tucked up in bed
by 10:00.

Oh.

Molly: Good night!

Here, mind that picture
of misery.

Now, there will be
another train up tomorrow.

Sounds like a cava.

Well, it's time some of them
are hung up.

I can name three for a start.

Sit down and take
a load off yer gun.

Yeah thanks boss,
but what I want to say is

he's a great guy...

Ahh!

Ha, ha, ha.

And who will be the next victim
of the demon blatherer?

You look like you need a drink.

Issy gave me the recipe
for a homemade dry Martini.

Issy would know.

To be honest, it's not strictly
a dry Martini.

It's absinthe, rum,
and paregoric.

Does the job.

I'll bet it does.

All work and no play.

It's not good for you.

Cin-cin.

I saw a file on your desk,

about people that
have been hanged.

Do you know any of them?

- No.
- That's a relief.

I thought your old man was
crippen or something like that.

I'm...

Studying cases in which
there was reasonable doubt

and they still hanged.

I imagine what I'd do
differently.

Is all the evidence tested,
anything missed?

If we have the science,
the knowledge

to eliminate mistakes,
there's no excuse not to.

The guilty don't have to escape

and the innocent don't have
to die in their place.

I'll drink to that.

Woman: All staff and patients
please make their way

to the shelter in the basement.

Come on, then.

Hurry up!

Yecch!

I don't understand, where does
Hastings get the nerve

to beat up a home office
pathologist?

Technically, it could have been
one of his minions.

But either way, he thinks
he's above the law.

There are villains in the
east end who never get collared.

You know why?
Because they're informants.

That was close.

Whether or not he's an informant

is something I doubt
we'll ever know.

My mate Billy
dabbles in the black market.

He'll know what the talk is.

Really?

Dabbles?

Well, he's more sort of up to
his eyes in it, to be honest.

Billy: Danny Hastings?

You gotta watch yourself, Molly.

You don't want to get involved
with him.

Molly: I just want to know
what you've heard.

Billy: Nothing good. He keeps
the coppers off his back

by dropping everyone else in it.
Do you mind?

He's not averse to slipping them
a few Bob when he has to.

The man has not got a single
scruple to his name.

Man: Watch out!

Watch it, Stan!

Those ciggies managed to fall

off the back of that lorry
without breaking!

If Hastings wasn't friends
with Jack spot,

he'd be dead by now.

Jack spot the gangster?

Thick as thieves, they are.

They got carte blanche
in the east end.

That's French, by the way,
for doing whatever you want.

- Violent?
- He can be when he needs to.

What about a girlfriend?

Not that I've heard; He's not
the pipe and slippers type.

I'd stay well clear
of Danny Hastings.

He's a dangerous man.

Collins: Careful.

She looks like she was
in the water quite some time.

- Come on.
- Thank you.

Collins: There's no swastika
cut in the tongue.

Freddy: She was probably drunk
and fell in.

Let's get her back to the morgue
and find out, shall we?

She was at the metropol,
inspector Wilkins.

Photograph the hand stamp,
please.

Listen, the commissioner gave me
a right earful this morning.

He wants the ziegler
case closed... now.

What's the big rush?

Suppose you know Danny Hastings
has coppers on his payroll?

That's a serious allegation,
be careful what you say.

Somebody could be
protecting him.

We don't protect killers because
they give us information.

Just promise
you'll look into it.

What bleedin' cheek.

Bruising on the neck is exactly
the same as the other killing.

Looks like a strangling.

I'll know more when I get
the voice box out.

And no swastika?

No.

That could be deliberate, so we
think it's a different killer

and ziegler takes the blame
for the first three murders.

Maybe.

What is this?

Tongue.

If we eliminate rosanski
as a suspect,

and you make a strong case
that this is the same killer,

the police will have no choice
but to look at Hastings.

Maybe even release ziegler.

You've got a devious streak,
miss Cooper.

I like that in a woman.

There's nobody in there.

What are you doing?

How did you do that?

Tricks of the trade.

What trade is that, exactly?

It's a big place

for somebody who works
in a munitions factory.

Looks like Mr. Rosanski can't
afford the furniture.

Can we go? I'm not cutout
to be a housebreaker.

Molly: What do you make of this?

Some sort of sequence.

A code, maybe?

What's a clerk
in a munition's factory

doing studying code?

Do you think he's a spy?

Carver: Far from it.

The truth is, he's a brilliant
young mathematician.

One of the few from
the biuro szyfrow in Poland

who survived.

He has the potential to crack
the German military codes.

If we do that, we can stop
the invasion.

This information, of course,
is classified.

We're protecting him
from the Germans.

If they find him,
they'll kill him.

We've had a breach of security

which is why he's based
at his flat and not station x.

I hoped he wouldn't get
dragged in,

but he appears to be a fan
of snakehips Johnson?

Well, I understand now why you
did n't want the story

leaked to the press,
but he's still a suspect.

He's watched night and day.

Rest assured, Collins,
he hasn't killed anyone.

He's not your man.

Polski?

Me?

No. I'm just...

Looking something up
for a friend.

Rosanski: I come to read
the old Polish magazines.

It reminds me of home.

Uh, would you like if!
Bought you a drink?

No, thanks.

I have money,
I can spend it on you.

If I want a drink,
I'll buy it myself, thanks.

Perhaps I'll see you here
again, yes?

Molly: I went to check
the international papers,

see if rosanski's name popped up
in any cases back home.

It didn't —— but there he was,
pining for the old country.

Collins: Forget rosanski,
he's being watched

closely by home intelligence...
We have a bigger problem.

Freddy: I thought there
might be truth in what

you said about Hastings so I
raised it with my superiors.

He's been taken off the case.
D.S. Brady is in charge.

I don't know what's going on.

I couldn't get the men I needed
to find that gas mask.

Then I was given a backlog
of old cases.

I get the feeling they
don't want me

looking into this matter
too closely.

Collins: Hang on.

If Terry slit his own wrists,
the wounds would be

left to right and right
to left —— they're not.

The change in depth
of the incision

tells us which way
the blade traveled.

They're both right to left.
Somebody else did it.

Miss Jenkins?

Can I help you?

We're investigating the death
of Mr. Terry.

Can we have a quick word?

You were here on Tuesday
evening, weren't you?

I usually work late
mending the costumes.

Anything strange? Did anyone
visit Mr. Terry's dressing room?

I worked with Mr. Terry
for 15 years.

He was a lovely man.

He had nothing to be
ashamed about, nothing.

I agree with you. We both do.

Tell us, what happened
that night?

What did you see?

He drank, you see.

I think it gave him confidence.

That night he'd had more than
usual to drink.

He couldn't stand up.

Two men had to help him back
to his dressing room.

What time was this exactly?

Oh, just after midnight,
I'd say.

I should have checked on him.

But I thought I'd leave him
to sleep it off.

Collins: Two men, Brady.
The strangler was rightehanded,

but whoever carved
those swastikas was left-handed.

We're not looking
at an ambidextrous killer...

Two men working together.

The same men that killed Terry
killed those girls?

We can't rule it out.

You should know, ziegler's going
to be charged

under the new treachery act.

Giving assistance to the enemy.
He'll hang in a matter of days.

Collins: Well... keep us posted.

I'll try, but treachery cases
are held in camera, no press.

I better go.

See you tomorrow, guv.

- Everything pointed to ziegler.
- No, it didn't.

You should have listened to me.

You know, when I was a reporter,

I had to cover some
awful stories.

A bus full of children being
evacuated was hit.

An entire street of kids gone.

The whole area knew what
had happened

but it never made the paper.

The government covered it up.

And...?

I'm just saying,
you can't always trust them.

Well, I'm going this way.

Got your torch?
It will be dark soon.

Yeah.

Well, I'll see you tomorrow,
then.

And...

Change your suit.

Poor bloke needs
to get buried in that.

Charlie, get me the towel
from Terry's dressing room.

I don't know why I didn't
think of this before, but...

If there are traces of Terry's
blood on that towel,

it cold mean the killer used it

after he slit Terry's wrists
to wipe his hands.

If we can find fibers of
that towel on Hastings' clothes,

we can prove he was
in that dressing room.

And we may have enough
for a conviction

and save ziegler from the noose.

Molly: Anything?

Collins: Blood.

And I'll bet you a shilling
it's Terry's.

We need to get into the metropol

and find something Hastings
might have been wearing.

Like his coat.

Do I have to remind you
he's already had you beaten up?

Next time,
he might just kill you.

Which would be a shame

as I'm getting to quite like
the pair of you.

Woman on radio:
Can I do 'em now, sir?

Man on radio: Go away Mrs. Mop,
can't you see I'm dressing?

Come back when I'm covered.

Woman on radio: Can't I darn
your dickeys, sir?

What on earth?

Wait!

Hello?

Hello?

Boss. Out here.

Sorry.

Any luck?

No, no luck.

No saliva traces, nothing.

You'd better have
a look at this.

Warden: Good evening.

I really hope you
get pierrepoint.

He'll hang you nice and quick.

Some of them,
they get the weights wrong

and rip your head right off.

You ready for your last supper?

Ziegler: No! That's not...
That's not right!

You're lying!

They said they wouldn't hang me!
They promised!

Warden: Pipe down.
Ziegler: I didn't do anything!

Wait, we do have something
on the strap, though.

Atiny trace of...

Ear wax.

Charlie: Oh? Collins: Pure gold.

I didn't know ear wax
was that valuable.

Gray wax, and your man has
Asian blood, like Hastings.

Amber, and he's African
or Caucasian, like ziegler.

Helps us pinpoint
our killer, Charlie.

Who'd have thought it?

Amber.

Definitely African or Caucasian.

Charlie: Oh, blimey!

Here we go again.

There's something else in it.

Hastings: Molly!

Charlie: Sounds like
a heavy one tonight.

We should get down the shelter!

An innocent man may hang,
Charlie.

I need to get this wax
tested now.

You man the fort.

Hello?

Detective Freddy Wilkins!

Man: Detective Lewis?

Wilkins!

Sir.

- Hello?
- Freddyl

Molly, where are you?

The metropol!
I think he's after me, Freddy!

Who is?

I can't hear you? Who?

Molly? Molly,
get yourself somewhere safe.

Now! Do you hear me? Now!

Fancy a drink?

I need you to look at some
ear wax, bit of an emergency.

- You're not serious.
- Very serious.

I know a basementjoint that
stays open during the raids.

The, uh, metropol.
Have you heard of it?

Walls are three feet thick.
It's safer than a shelter.

Oi! Mind if I have my coat back?

I don't usually like girls
who steal from me,

but I'll let you off this time.

Truth is, Molly,
I've taken a shine to you.

Come on, I'd rather die
with a drink in my hand.

Would n't you? Molly!

Molly, wait!

Collins: Well?

You're right, there are
the usual traces of dead skin,

but I'll need to do
some further tests to confirm...

Well, go on then,
quick as you like.

Officer: Go down!

Hastings: Molly!

Hastings: Molly!

Officer: Go straight down
to the platform!

Officer: Quickly! Quickly!
Quickly!

Everybody,
straight down to the platform!

Tests confirm high levels
of potassium nitrate,

which is a major component
of gunpowder.

It would seem that the ear wax
belonged to a man...

Who worked in
a munitions factory .. Rosanski.

Officer: Quickly!

Officer: That's it,
keep coming round!

Hello, again.

Hello.

Inspector Wilkins called, wanted
to know if Molly had turned up.

Said she called from outside
the metropol,

said something about
being followed.

Collins: Thanks, Charlie.
Get down to the shelter now!

I'm staying here
in case they call back!

Freddy: She's got to be
around here somewhere.

Search the whole place.

Ugh!

This will be packed to
suffocation.

Follow me, I know a place.

We'll be saferthere.

Keep looking.

This way, we're nearly there.

I'm glad I had the chance
to speak with you again.

Uh...

After what happened
at the library,

I thought you didn't like me.

Molly: I hadn't given it
much thought, to be honest.

Rosanski: No?

But you work for the home office
pathologist, don't you?

How do you know what I do?

You! Where is Molly Cooper?
—never heard of her.

You know who I'm talking about!
—wilkins, leave him!

We got it wrong, it's rosanski!

The pole? I just seen him

going down the tube station
after your girl.

Freddy: Come on, let's go!

In some ways...

I admire them, the Nazis.

They believe that human sympathy
perpetuates only the mediocre.

Makes them strong.

Capable of anything.

I respect their ability to rise
above ordinary morality.

People who can do that
are inherently superior.

You see...

We only pretend
to care about others

because we are told that
is the human condition, but...

It's not.

We take pleasure in pain.

I'm not sure I follow,
Mr. Rosanski.

Well, think I'll go back.

I'm not sure I like
the company here.

No.

Aaaah!

Uggh! Arrgh!

Freddy: Miss Cooper?

Girl in a red jacket,
has anybody seen her?

Woman: She went that way.

Rosanski: Molly!

Help!

Can anyone hear me?!

Freddy: Miss Cooper!

Miss Cooper!

Molly?

Molly!

Molly: Help!

Collins: Molly!

No! No!

No!

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Molly.

Arrgh!

I thought you...

You were supposed to be
saving me?

Freddy: We'll need your
statements as soon as possible.

And ziegler?

The charges will be dropped
when I see your evidence.

But rosanski didn't act alone,
did he?

Somebody else carved
the swastika.

Carver: We're taking rosanski
into custody

by order of the home secretary.

This is now a matter
for military intelligence.

I don't think you understand,
Mr. Carver.

Rosanski is the killer.

Ziegler killed those women
and he's going to hang for it.

Do as they ask.

You knew.

You've been protecting him
all along.

Without him, we may lose
the war in the air.

If that happens,
invasion is imminent.

- But why didn't you stop him?
- We tried.

Put him under house arrest,

but he kept on slipping
through the net.

Carver:
We gave you another chance.

Do you realize what you've done?
What is wrong with you, man?!

Left hand.

The swastika.

You.

I did what I had to do.

And what about those women?

Don't their lives count
for anything?

Miss Cooper, this man could save
thousands of lives,

including yours.

It's all in there.

And your proof is what?

Atrace of ear wax found
in a gas mask,

belonging to who, exactly?

An innocent man
is going to hang.

It's a German who collects
dirty postcards.

Better men than him are being
sacrificed every day.

I'll go to the press.

Presenter: This is
the BBC home service.

Here's the news.

Wilfred ziegler,
the man responsible

for the murders of three women
is to be hanged

at 8:00 this morning
in pentonville prison.

Time to go.

Ziegler: You made a mistake!

No!

Granger: Mr. Ziegler!

It appears to be your lucky day.

I see.

Ziegler?

He's to be interned
on the Isle of Man

for the duration of the war.

Beyond that, they won't say.

Well, you saved his life.

Have you been
to the Isle of Man?

We should go to
the cafe de Paris tonight

and celebrate.

Two left feet, remember?

Well, let's put that to rights.

Molly: Side...

Side...

Ouch. —sorry.

Slow, turn.

Quick, quick, slow.

Collins: Oops.

It's all right.
You can't be good at everything.