All language subtitles for S01E07 Murder in Montparnasse

(QUIRKY MUSIC)

Get out here, you weasel!

Easy, Thommo, mate.

That's enough damage for one night.

I got all the dirt
on you, Chambers.

Give it a rest, would ya?
He's gone.

Happy now?

Gutless conniving bastard!

But you didn't have to
take a swing at him.

Come on, mate.
It's your shout.

(SINISTER MUSIC)

Well, that's it.
I'm skint now.

Stony-broke.

Thanks to you.
Oh, dry up, will ya?

Here's your ruddy pound back.

You'll get yours next pay. Now...

(MEN ARGUE)

Pack it in, you two.
Bloody hell.

You gotta cheat doing that,
that's for sure.

(TYRES SCREECH)

Thommo!

HEY! HEY!

Mate, you right?

Thommo!

Thommo!
It's alright.

(THEME MUSIC)

What can you tell us
about the vehicle?

Not much.

The lamps were shining
full in my face.

Something big and flash.

Did you see
the registration number?

So the three of you
stopped here before for a drink?

Yeah. So?

What about Thommo?
A few beers? More than that?

Shouldn't you be out there
finding whoever it was did this?

Tell us again exactly what happened
just before the accident.

That wasn't no accident.

We've heard Mr. Birmingham and
Mr. Cliff were having a disagreement.

Heard? From who?

From Cliff.

They had a few words, that's all.

Just words?
There might've been a bit of shoving.

Which left Mr. Birmingham in the path
of an oncoming vehicle?

You reckon Ronnie did this on purpose?
That car came straight at us!

(DOORBELL RINGS)

(SIGHS) Ma petite Phryne.

Veronique Sarcelle?

Have I changed that much?

Of course not.

Mr. Butler, café au lait s'il vous plaît.

BUTLER: Certainement.

What brings you
all the way to Melbourne?

To surprise you, ma chérie.
What else?

Can I take your scarf?
No, no, I'm fine.

What a surprise
after all these years.

Oh! I wanted to see
this part of the world.

Pierre always talked of
making the journey.

He wanted to paint in this light,
which I am still not accustomed to.

How long has it been?

Oh, nine years at least.

Good times, oui?

Interesting times.

Ah.

Surely you still have
some of his paintings.

I had to sell them all.

It broke my heart, but, oh, the bills!

You had to survive somehow.

It was never easy.

Even before.

But how happy we were.

You remember?

I remember the singing
and the dancing...

...and all those mad, bad parties.

(CHUCKLES) The war was over.

Paris was free.

We were intoxicated with life.

And Sarcelle,
he was inspired to paint.

He was like a demon
day and night.

And now it is lost.

At least I know
this one has a safe home.

Do you remember sitting for this?

(LAUGHS) I remember
too much wine for lunch.

“Don't move," Pierre kept saying.

“I'm not moving!”

BOTH: “It's the room.”

Pierre could not then sell a painting.

After he died,
everyone wanted a Sarcelle...

...when it was too late.

This was always one of my favourites.

But there was one I wanted even more.

It cannot be.
She was sold to a dealer.

A dealer commissioned by me.

Oh, ma petite Phryne.

This was the one you truly wanted.

Sarcelle would not part with it.

Oh, Pierre, mon amour,
how I miss you.

I'm sorry. I never thought
to see it again.

You know, this was his best work.

That's what he always said.
He would never sell it.

We will never know
what happened that terrible night.

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

(TRAIN CHUGS AWAY)

(WATCH RATTLES)

Ah.

Ahhh!
(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

(TRAIN BRAKES SQUEAL)

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Coffee is ready downstairs,
Miss Fisher.

Thank you, Mr. Butler.

If a French luncheon is in order,

I notice that the butcher's shop
has duck in the window.

That's very considerate,
but we will be dining out.

Very good, Miss.
Mr. Butler?

The painting in the parlour -
you know the one I mean -

could you please lift it down and wrap it?

Madam Sarcelle will be
taking it with her.

Of course.

Oh, Phryne, no.

I did not come here...
But it belongs with you.

And it's what Pierre would've wanted.

You must understand.
I cannot pay you.

Which is just the way I want it.

How many times do you need
to hear the same bloody story?

The car headed straight for us.
That's all we know.

Look, we just need to finish
your statements, alright?

Excuse me.

Track down any witnesses?

The bloke from the bakery says

he saw a car parked out front
just before closing.

A blue Rolls.

Did you say 'Rolls'?

Do you know anyone
who owns a blue Rolls?

Hector-bloody-Chambers.

The bookie?

That slimy, double-crossing little toad!
First, he fleeces us, and then...

Then he tries to run you down.

Why?

We got the nod on a horse in the fourth
at Flemington yesterday.

On a fixed race, no doubt.

Don't know nothing about that.

So we all had a tipple. 50 to 1.

Bet a pound each with Chambers.

And the horse came in first?
By four lengths.

So we front Chambers
in the back bar.

When Thommo tried to get him
to cough up, he just laughed at us,

said he wouldn't pay out on a tip-off.

That's when there was
a bit of biff.

We told Thommo
Chambers wasn't worth it,

but it was too late.

He took a swing.
Birmingham hit Chambers?

MAN: Bert.

Oh, you blokes are a sight
for sore eyes.

Just been to see Thommo's missus
at the hospital.

And?

Not good.

Out of my road, Tarzan.

What now, sir?

We have a word
with Chambers, Constable,

before Bert and his mates do.

Trust me, Seth.

This nag's had so much rocket fuel
pumped into her

she could run to Sydney and back.

Yeah, no problem.

Hector Chambers?

Who wants to know?
Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

Bit early in the day
to be drinking, isn't it?

Pure health tonic.
Kicked the alcohol years ago.

Gives me gout.
No ill effects from smoking, though?

(COUGHS)

None at all.

Why don't you tell us
how your motor vehicle

came to be involved
in a hit-and-run last night?

Or you could tell me.

You had a dispute about a bet
with the victim.

I understand
he gave you that shiner.

I'm a well-to-do gentleman.

I got better things to do than run down
diggers for the sake of 150 quid.

So you admit they did
place bets with you?

I admit nothing.

Hmm.

Huh. Never seen that before.

It's a public bar, nothing to do with me,
so you can't charge me.

How about we charge you
with murder instead, hm?

Murder? What?

Birmingham and his colleagues
placed a bet,

but there was a dispute
when you refused to pay out.

Then he struck you a blow to the eye
and you retaliated by running him down.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hold your horses.

Now, the Police Association
club rooms must be in need

of, what, a couple of
new punching bags, yeah?

Some new table tennis
paddle sticks, yeah?

Add bribery to the charges.
Yes, sir.

Look, my Rolls was stolen!

How convenient.

I might even have
half an idea who stole it.

His name?

I'm bad with names.

Something, uh...foreign.

Describe him.

Foreign-looking.

Doesn't sound like
much of an alibi.

Sure you wanna stick to that story?

The foreigner stole my Rolls.

(BOTH GIGGLE)

(GASPS) Oh...

Mon Dieu.

C'est Café Anatole.

Re-created down to the last tiny detail
as Café Réplique.

For obvious reasons.

Mademoiselle Fisher.

It has been too long.

And who is your charming friend?

Anatole, c'est moi, Veronique.

Veronique?
Oui.

Sarcelle?
Oui.

Ma chérie,
I hardly recognised you.

You are well?
Oui, oui, of course.

And you?
Life is good.

An early luncheon
is highly in order.

Is that onion soup I smell?

Made fresh this morning.

With cognac?
Naturellement.

Oh, bon
Jean?

Soupe a l'oignon for two.

MAN: Yes, sir.
May I take your coat?

Oui.

Ah, merci, Jean.

Not your usual table,
Mademoiselle Fisher.

But Veronique will like
this one much better.

Regardez-vous.

The opening of Café Anatole a Paris.

VERONIQUE: Without you,
we would've starved.

Such a great artist.

I like to think I helped him
in some small way.

VERONIQUE: Poor Pierre.

But it is good.

The French police have reopened
the investigation into his death, oui?

Have they?

It was reported
in the French newspapers.

I have 'La Presse' posted to me.
I keep them all.

What prompted the reopening
of the investigation?

Now that his work is famous,
now they care.

You're here with the police?

No. I came only to see
my old friend, Phryne.

Have they found the Australians
who saw what happened?

The gendarmes,
they do not confide in me.

(BELL RINGS)

Excusez-moi.

Do you know what line of investigation
the police are pursuing?

Perhaps I could be of assistance.

That's right, you are now the detective.

If there's any way that I could help...

It is a thing of the past.

There's nothing the police can do
that will bring Pierre back.

Some things cannot be undone.

Voilà.
Ah.

Merci.

Aha, merci.

Voilà.
Merci.

Bon appétit.

Does Anatole still give the room
to the artists after closing?

Yes.

But it's not the same as it was.

VERONIQUE:
Ah, Pierre, mon amour.

PIERRE: Veronique, je t'aime.

MAN: I have the cognac.

Oh, Rene, we thought
you were not coming.

Mwah.

Mon ami.
Ah!

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

My new model.

Mademoiselle Phryne.

Do you approve of her?

RENE: What treasure is this?

Rene DuBois.

At your service, mademoiselle.

Quite lovely, isn't it?

Mm. Very.

The way her...
Hello.

Dot!
Hugh.

Uh...
Uh...

You said you wanted to go
to the pictures tonight.

What, tonight?

I...don't think I can.

Uh, it's your favourite,
'The Sheik'.

Oh...

But I have sewing and baking to do
for the fete.

Well, I thought ice-cream
at Kerby's

and then maybe a walk
along the pier afterwards.

I...I can't, Hugh.

I've got a headache.

I think I should just take a powder
and have a quiet night.

Alright, maybe tomorrow night, then.

Maybe.

I...I hope you feel better.

Thank you for the tea, Mr. Butler.
Mm.

What is it, Dorothy?

I was down at the church
helping to organise for the fete

and Father Grogan
made me go to confession.

Made you?

It's been a while.

He said he's tried
to be understanding

ever since I started working
for Miss Fisher,

like when I pretended to be
in the family way

to help catch Butcher George,

or...when I helped the Latvians
with the bank robbery.

You were taken hostage at the time.

But he says
he draws the line at...

What?

Kissing a Protestant.

He said I'm not to see Hugh again.

Oh, dear.

(BREATHES HARSHLY)

Thommo?

You right, mate?

(WEAKLY) Right as rain.

What?
He said, “Right as rain."

Sure you are.

(COUGHS)

I'll get you some water.

Come on.

Here, mate.

Nurse?

Nurse!

I'm sorry.

There's plenty of room.
You're more than welcome to stay.

Merci, non.

You have been
more than generous.

But I am tired.

Such a good lunch.

At least let me give you
a lift home.

Oh, the Seascape Hotel
is not so far from here.

The walk will do me good.

In Paris, I walk everywhere.

You'd tell me if there was
anything I could do to help you.

Of course.

And you will come back for dinner?
I look forward to that.

Ah, merci beaucoup.

You will never know
how much this means.

You were always
his favourite model.

You're beautiful
on the outside and the inside.

Au revoir.

Au revoir.

Ah, carrot?

Oui.

Parfait.

Voilà!

(PEOPLE APPLAUD)

Rene, you waste your talent.

This dadaism is just empty parody.

There can be no brave new world
if there is no brave new art.

Well, if this is the new art,

then I will happily remain
in the Dark Ages.

A dinosaur, that is you, mon ami.

(BOTH CHUCKLE)

It's a crime...

...wasting a beautiful body
like this black cat, huh,

on the likes of you.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

And you, Monsieur Rene...

...what would you do with my body?

(GENTLE MUSIC)

I think you were so brave, Miss,

to stand in a room full of men

with no clothes.

I didn't have two centimes
to rub together after the war.

My ambulance unit had been disbanded.

My family had no idea
where to send me money.

And it was exhilarating.

But you were all alone
in a foreign country.

Weren't you scared?

I don't think I was sensible enough
to be scared.

I'll let Mr. Butler know
he'll need to buy that duck after all.

BUTLER: Sorry to disturb you, Miss.

Mr. Johnson and Mr. Yates
would like a word.

What's this?

I've got another couple of quid too.

I wanna hire you,
same as anybody else would.

I suggested we call in
a professional.

My money's as good
as any toff's.

I'm at your service, Bert, and there is
no question of me charging you.

It would be my honour to help.

So you think this Hector Chambers
is responsible for your friend's death?

HUGH: The baker saw the Rolls
just after it collected Mr. Birmingham.

The driver then continued on
round the next corner,

drove on the wrong side
of the road...

Not a lot of crime out there today?
Ah, Miss Fisher.

I was wondering when Bert
would wheel in the heavy artillery.

Bert is naturally keen to see
some movement in this tragic matter.

And as 'movement' in copper speak
means 'slower than a wet week'...

Mr. Chambers claims
his car was stolen, Bert.

Stolen, my ar...

...Aunt Mary.

We're trying to re-create
the scene of a crime.

So I see.

Yours?
They're...it...my...

They're my...
It's my nephew's.

And if you could
please not touch...

(IMITATES CAR ENGINE)

Beep, beep.

(CONTINUES IMITATING
CAR ENGINE)

Looks like the driver's had
a few too many sherries.

Can't have been
Hector Chambers, then.

Why?

He doesn't drink.

His preferred vice is cheap cigars.

What are these?
HUGH: Collisions.

As I was saying, driver then clipped
the milk truck, drove over the bollard.

And drove off.
Must've done some damage.

And left a lot
of bloody evidence.

He's hit the milk truck here and then
continued over the bollard there.

The local constables
were all over this.

And they found the glass
from the broken headlamp?

It's all in the report.

So they noticed
the engine oil?

And if he's done his sump,
he wouldn't get far.

He could've
knocked the plug loose.

Wouldn't come out right away.

Up the street a bit maybe.
Just...

How far exactly
did these constables look?

Uh...

I'm...

Just...

Here's some more oil.

Not a lot left.

Sump'd be running dry by this time.

Can't be much further.
Engine would've seized up.

Just what we need —
an amateur detective on the job.

With us professionals?

CEC: Nothing.

Didn't bleeding vanish
off the face of the earth!

(SNIFFS)

I suspect not, Bert.

(METAL CLANGS, HAMMERING)

Should we add 'psychic powers'

to your already considerable list
of accomplishments?

No, just an exceptionally good
sense of smell.

You mentioned something
about cheap cigars.

Chambers.

Get back.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! I'd prefer you
not to let all of Fitzroy know we're here.

You got a better idea?
Yeah.

You two ladies stay here
with Miss Fisher.

She won't be going anywhere,
not in that skirt.

Keep your shirts on, gentlemen.

No need for anyone
to miss out on the fun.

(MAN WHISTLES TUNEFULLY)

Morning, sir.

Lovely car.

Had a bit of a bingle, did we?
Oh...

Where's Chambers?!
Whoa, whoa.

Give me that, you idiot.

Hector Chambers?

Never heard of him.
But you just happen to have his car.

Look, I come home from my shift,

there she was in the laneway
right outside my gate.

Only thing missing was
the wrapping paper and gift card.

Hey, I found her, right?
Not a word of lie.

Problem is this car was used
in a hit-and-run incident.

A man was killed.
Bloody hell.

Well, no wonder he scarpered.

Who, the driver?
Yeah.

Can you describe him?

So high, hat, jacket.

Is this the man?
No, don't look like him.

But the other bloke, though,
he was, um...

Uh. . .“foreign-looking"?

Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

Looks like Hector Chambers
was telling the truth.

Well, there's a turn-up for the books.

But let's do a thorough check
of the car.

For the church fete?

Father Grogan is determined
to make more money

than St. Christopher's this year.

Two more nut loafs.

I think he has a wager on it.

I thought gambling was a sin.

Well, I hope he appreciates
all your efforts —

sewing, baking —

especially given
his lack of understanding

about Hugh being a Protestant.

Father Grogan says
he's merely God's messenger.

But there must be something
you can do to convince him

that stepping out with a nice young man
like Hugh Collins isn't a sin.

What would Miss Fisher do?

She'd probably make a big donation,
or pull a gun on him.

Though I don't think
either of those things

would even budge my priest.

You're a woman with influence, Dorothy,
though you may not realise it.

How?

Well, you're crucial
to the success of the fete.

If, for some reason, you decided not
to fulfil your commitments to the church,

then I suspect you,

along with your handicrafts
and mending and baking,

would be sorely missed.

I would.

But isn't that...

...blackmail?

Oh, Miss Fisher
wouldn't see it like that.

It'd be...

...calling his bluff.

(CLEARS THROAT) Shall I keep
the confit de canard warm, Miss?

I'm sure it will be just as delicious
tomorrow, Mr. Butler.

But it does seem that Madam Sarcelle
will not be making an appearance.

Is that the Seascape Hotel?

I'd like to speak with
one of your guests,

a Madam Sarcelle.

S-A-R-C-E-L-L-E.

It's French.

Could you please check again?

You have no idea
where she might be staying?

No.

But wherever it is, I suspect
she's fallen on hard times.

Not gonna stay for another cocoa?

Got some nosing around to do...
since the coppers aren't up for much.

Chambers's story about his car
being stolen seems to hold water.

Isn't it possible that someone else
had something against your Thommo?

It was Chambers.

Dead cert.
Yeah.

If it wasn't him behind the wheel,
it was one of his cronies.

Thanks for the cocoa.

Thanks, Miss.

You think they're
wasting their time?

It doesn't add up, Dot.

A career criminal like Chambers
doesn't seem the type

to run over one of his punters
in a fit of pique.

There's some other angle to this.

(CLANGING THUD)

Stay here.

(MAN GRUNTS)

(BOTH GRUNT)

Ahhh!
Ugh!

Ugh! on!

PHRYNE: Mr. Butler, help!

(BREATHES SHARPLY)

He had a car parked in the lane.

I'll telephone the police.

No, Mr. Butler.
It can wait till morning.

But what if he returns?
He won't.

He got what he was after.

There's only one French-bound vessel
due to sail from Melbourne

in the next month,

and there's no Sarcelle
on the passenger list.

ROBINSON: Well, at least we know she
won't be leaving the country in a hurry.

I do know when this lady arrived
in Melbourne, if that's any help.

It was 10 days ago
on the 'Empress of Australia'.

Apparently, there was
a passenger named Sarcelle

who spent the entire voyage
in the sick bay.

She was travelling
with her husband.

Husband?

She never remarried.

ROBINSON: So we're
looking for an accomplice.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

(OMINOUS MUSIC CONTINUES)

Ron, open up!

(HAND SIZZLES)

Ronnie! Ronnie!

Ronnie, no!

There's nothing else that
you could've done, Bert.

(SIGHS) Thank God you're safe.

Ronnie's bed was on fire.

I did my best to get to him.

I could see him there.

Even at the last...

...he was waving me to get back.

But I couldn't help him.

(MURMURS)

So you finished the war in France?

BERT: Demobbed in Paris.

Took their bloody time
getting us home.

Not that I'm complaining.

There are worse cities to kill time.
CEC: Should've seen it.

Just wall-to-wall diggers.

Making more noise
than a flock of cockies at sunset.

Drunk cockies at that.
(BOTH CHUCKLE)

Ronnie was always the one
to drag us out sightseeing.

Eh?

Only sight you saw
was the bottom of a glass.

Used to come stumbling back
to the station at the crack of dawn.

PHRYNE: Station?

What station?

Don't know.

What was the name
of the one we left from?

(MEN SING) ♪ Mademoiselle
from Montparnasse, parlez-vous?

♪ Mademoiselle from Montparnasse,
parlez-vous?

♪ Mademoiselle from Mont... ♪

Mont...

Montparnasse?

♪ From Montparnasse... ♪
Oh!

(WHISTLE BLOWS
IN THE DISTANCE)

BERT: He dropped a painting.

We handed it in.

I thought it was next to the article
about repairs to the Eiffel Tower, but...

Ah, voila.

PHRYNE: “French police
have reopened the case

“into the death
of well-known artist Pierre Sarcelle

“nearly 10 years after
he was pushed under a train...

“..at Montparnasse Station
in January 1919."

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

Ahhh!

(TRAIN BRAKES SQUEAL)

(MEN SING) ♪ Parlez-vous... ♪

“It is believed his killer was attempting
to steal Sarcelle's last painting...

(WHISTLE BLOWS
IN THE DISTANCE)

...“'Woman with Peignoir'."

It must be him.

Who else would kill for that painting?

PIERRE: Arch your neck,
if you please.

Good.

Good. Good.

Good. Good.

Let's go!
VERONIQUE: Oh, Rene.

RENE: On y va!
Oh...

I told you I was working tonight.

And I told you no more. C'est finis!

Rene, are you mad?!

Rene, please, no trouble.

I'm coming.

You are the only one
who understands me.

Mon chat noire.

“The police are making
every effort to assist,

“to find three Australian soldiers

“who may be able to assist
with the inquiries."

PHRYNE: They're looking for
Bert and his friends.

Rene got to two of them first.

Rene?

Rene DuBois?

To silence the men
who saw him kill Pierre.

Yes, Miss.

Uh, sir, it's Miss Fisher
on the telephone.

Please explain to her that I'm...
She said it's an emergency.

She thinks Bert is in danger.

Miss Fisher?

Wait. Please slow down.

And did the barman at the Flora
say where Bert was heading?

I'll be right there.

Six, seven, eight...

To Ronnie.
To Ronnie.

GIRL: ..14, 15, 16, 17...

Thank heavens.

...31, 32...

Bert!

(GIRL SCREAMS)

Oh!

(WHISTLE BLOWS
IN THE DISTANCE)

You're not going anywhere.

I'm not about to be frightened off
by some Froggy with a peashooter.

But you are about to lay low for a while,
well out of harm's way.

For me, Bert.

Please.
CEC: I'll keep an eye on him, Miss.

Suppose the cab
could do with a wash.

Thank you, Bert.

I appreciate it.

Miss.

Thank you very much.
Goodbye. (HANGS UP)

Turns out the French authorities
did send a letter to the army.

It sat on a second lieutenant's desk
for a month,

then moved to a major's desk,
then finally to a brigadier's.

The wheels of international justice
turn slowly.

I suspect Bert would've been contacted
before the century was out.

(MUMBLES INDISTINCTLY)

I'm afraid my French
isn't quite what it should be.

Bert and his mates were
at Montparnasse Station

when Rene pushed Pierre Sarcelle
under a train.

Now Rene is here to make sure
no-one speaks with the gendarme.

So he comes to the other end
of the earth to track down the witnesses,

then steal a painting or two
while he's here?

Rene is an opportunist.

Any other ideas
as to how we track him down?

Apart from Veronique...

...I have no idea who else
he might be in contact with.

There is one person
we know he had dealings with.

How did DuBois
get in contact with you?

The traditional way.
He came up to me, started talking.

What did he want?
And you are?

I'm the woman who'll make you suffer
and suffer dearly

if you don't start talking.

We're dearly not one,
but two suspicious deaths.

Nothing to do with me.

I can smell an accessory
to murder charge in the wind.

Look, he must've seen
Birmingham clock me, OK?

He sidled over and he bought me a drink
and he told me how I should get even.

Then he offered me £500.

For?

To knock 'em off.

What, the three of them?

Mm.

Thought he was having me on.

But he didn't seem the joking sort.

So, what did you say?

I told him I'd, uh...
I'd have to think about it.

£500 don't seem like a lot
for a hanging offence.

You thought
you could get the price up?

I was stalling him.

He said he had
a valuable piece of art to sell.

If I helped him move it on,
I'd get a piece of the pie.

I said I'd get back to him
if I was interested.

How?

He gave me the card
for some hotel he was staying at.

He said he'd be there
for the rest of the week.

Here it is.

The Seascape Hotel.

Veronique was there
the whole time,

but under the name of DuBois.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Open the door!
Rene, ouvrir la porte!

Right.
No, wait, wait!

I can hear someone.
Out of the way.

Veronique!

Oh, mon Dieu.

(COUGHS)

What has he done to you?

I am so ashamed.

After Pierre died, I was so lost.

And Rene...

...at first, was...

Charm itself.

For a short while, oui.

Now he has taken his bags
and left me for dead.

No need to explain.

Do you know where he is?

No.

Rene killed Pierre.

No.

And now he is here
to kill the witnesses.

And you...

...you are not safe, either.

What did I ever do to Rene?

You broke his heart.

And for that, he want to kill you.

You are mine.
You understand? Mine!

Not Sarcelle's!

Or anybody's.

Mine.

Body...

...mind...

...and soul.

(GASPS)

You are not afraid?

He's the one
who ought to be afraid.

ROBINSON: Miss Fisher's come up with
a plan to get you out of the cells.

Gonna post bail?

Better than that.
CHAMBERS: I'm all ears.

I want you
to get word to DuBois.

Tell him you know someone
who can sell that painting.

Why would I do that?

I thought you wanted
some fresh air, Hector.

But it's easy enough to keep you
locked up indefinitely.

Tell him you'll meet him
at Café Réplique this afternoon at 3pm.

So I'm the sacrificial goat
in all of this, eh?

Huh? Is that it?

And a charming little goat you are too.

ANATOLE: For monsieur,
escargot avec garlic butter.

Bon appétit.

To think I managed to avoid snails
the entire time I was posted in France.

Mm.

Not bad.

Like buttered pieces
of India rubber.

(CORK POPS)

(GASPS)

The room is full of police.

You couldn't be more safe.

Just what we need.

ROBINSON: Who invited the comrades?
PHRYNE: They must've followed us.

They're going to ruin everything.
Phryne, no.

DuBois could be here any minute.
Here, sit here.

I'll keep an eye out for him.

Monsieur?

I don't feel I have your full attention,
Miss Fisher.

Eyes front. Phryne?

Phryne?

Long time no see.

This is from
Thommo and Ronnie.

Bert, no!

Police, out of the way!

(GASPS)

RENE: My Phryne...

...it has been too long, non?

Ahh!

No!

Drop it, monsieur.

(GUN CLATTERS TO THE FLOOR)

Ugh!

Stay back, Jack!

You would not shoot me.

I'm not afraid of you.

(VERONIQUE GASPS)

(GASPS)

Oh!

Oh...

ROBINSON: You alright?

I believe I am.

How was church, Dorothy?

Wonderful.
And the headache?

Gone completely.

Clothing, crafts, cakes...

...all delivered?

After I had a chat with Father Grogan.
Was it a profitable chat?

I told him I was thinking of converting.

Very nice, Dorothy.

And what did Father Grogan
say to that?

Well, he says I think I should
bide my time with my Protestant.

“Perhaps he will follow God's
shining beacon to the Catholic Church."

(LAUGHS) Wonderful news.

And where will you be
biding your time tonight?

Hugh's taking me to the pictures.

Oh!

You should take this along with you.

Miss Fisher wanted
Constable Collins to have it...

...for his nephew.

(CHUCKLES)

This is certainly
a well-travelled work of art.

A little like me.

Thank you for helping to retrieve it.

You're blushing.

I'm a grown man, Miss Fisher.

I'm not likely to blush
at the sight of a little bare flesh.

That's what surprises me,
Detective Inspector.

In fact...

...lately...

...you're full of surprises.

It's all part of the job.

I have to get back to the station.

Excuse me.

Goodnight, then.

Goodnight.

(GENTLE MUSIC PLAYS)

(MAN SINGS IN FRENCH)