All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S14E01.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV.srt - eng(2)

I'm so excited for Victoria Day.

The city just comes alive.

You said the same thing
about Easter.

Well, the city comes alive
at Easter, too.

Is there nothing about holidays
that excites you?

Well, there is one thing.

You come alive.

Moving pictures.

When are they going
to give up on that?

- Nobody likes them.
- I quite like the pictures.

I once saw one with creatures
from Mars.

Ooh.

Oh, I hear there's gonna be
vaudeville tonight.

Acts from all over.

Now, that sounds alright.

- Nomi?
- How lovely.

Certainly.

Thomas, isn't that
that Inspector?

The one whose wife
has the glass eye?

Ah, I think so.

They were so charming.
We should go say hello.

Not right now, Margaret.

Why not?

I owe the inspector
a few dollars.

Ah, excuse me, ladies.

I need to have a word
with Murdoch.

Sir, you're just in time.
I have an announcement.

Spit it out then, Higgins.

Ruth is with child!

Oh.
Congratulations, Henry.

Ah, procreation.

The human race is nothing
if not relentless.

That's marvelous.

I didn't think you had it
in you, Higgins.

Congratulations.

That's terrific,
Henry.

But shouldn't cigars
and celebrations wait

till the actual birth?

I mean, not just
at the announcement

of something still months away?

Who cares! We'll have cigars
and celebrate every day.

To Hieronymous Higgins-Newsome!

No, no,
it's all wrong.

Where did we find you
wet-brains?

Were you grown on a dirt farm?

George, that's...

Obie Stratford!

A-ha, some fans of vaud, I see.

I hope you'll all be
at the show tonight.

I've got acts coming in
from all over,

not to mention yours truly.

Ah, look at this lovely lady.

I tell you, the way ladies dress
in the big cities these days,

whoo-wee.

I tell you, if styles
keep advancing

I hope I live five years longer.

Is that meant to be funny?

I believe the joke lies
in the incongruence

- of the lasciviousness.
Just enjoy it.

Obie Stratford is the
biggest star in vaudeville.

That's right.

And tonight, all the biggest
stars will be gathered here.

But none will shine as bright
as Obie Stratford!

Oh, what in God's name?!

My God. He's dead.

It would appear he fell
out of that fourth-story window.

Fell or jumped.

Perhaps he wasn't a fan
of vaudeville.

Like yourself.

He was a vaudevillian,
I'd wager.

This is the hotel where
I'm putting up all the acts.

So, you know him?

No.

Comics are a depressed lot.

You put enough of us
in the same place,

one of us is bound
to jump out a window.

Detective, I think your line of
questioning may need adjustment.

Oh? What have you, Miss Hart?

The man was dead before he fell.

Cause of death?

I can't be certain yet.

But the presence of petechiae

and what appears to be
a metallic contact burn

suggests electrocution.

Curious.

I feel awful.

I know in my head
I'm glad for Higgins

but when he told us, I felt bad.

He has something you hope to
also have someday in your life.

A moment of jealousy
is perfectly normal, George.

Did you feel the same?

- No.
- Honestly?

Do you know me as a man
prone to fabrications?

I believe this is it.

Suicide note.

"I can't take it anymore.
Goodbye."

Written in block letters.

The bathtub is empty but
the mirror is still fogged,

and there's wet towels
on the floor.

This lamp is broken.

So the man had a bath,
either pulled the lamp in,

or it fell in somehow.

Either way, he died
of electrocution,

cleaned things up,
and jumped out the window.

Not likely.

Was there any identification?

I can tell you the man's name.
Kenny McClusky.

How did you know him?

I'm staying at the hotel.
I met him last night.

Absolute riot.

The only amusing man in the city
other than yours truly.

And you are?

I'm the funniest man
in the world.

Charlie Chaplin.

What happened to
the poor sucker?

Who wants to know?

Arthur Carmichael.

Charmed.

Carmichael.

I knew your father.

Really?

Sad business, that.

I can't say I cared for him.

Nor did I.

You're that city coroner,
aren't you?

I've heard of you.

Good for you.

The coroner's office does not
release any information

on pending cases to the public.

McClusky was just off
the train from Detroit.

Said he didn't know
a soul in Toronto.

If he knew no one here, who
would have wanted to kill him?

I don't know.

But Kenny knew
how to make enemies.

He was an insult comic.

His whole act was making fun.

Did you see him
insult anyone last night?

I certainly did.

There was one man in particular
who was hopping mad.

William,
there you are.

Any developments?

As a matter of fact,

Mr. Chaplin is taking us
to a person of interest.

Indeed, and if you'll pardon
my interruption, here he is now.

You there,
what was your name again?

Ed Ward!

- You're Ed Ward?
You said it, pal.

You're not Ed Ward.

We've met Ed Ward,
and you, sir, are not he.

It must be a different Edward.

- What's your surname?
- I just told you.

My name is Ed Ward!

He is Mr. Ward,
given name "Ed."

Ed Ward. Ha ha.

Oh, that's quite clever.

Did you simply steal
Mr. Ward's name and persona?

Steal? Of course not.
I bought it.

The name, the image,
the props -- the whole she-bang.

You paid money for...

Mr. Ward, I understand that
you met a Mr. McClusky

in the hotel bar last night.

Kenny? Yes, that's right.

Threw himself out a window,
did he?

Well, we're not
so sure about that.

Fess to it, man.

You almost killed Kenny
last night with your bare hands.

I did no such thing.

He likened your hair
to a mass of dead rats,

and you just about
throttled him.

Mr. Chaplin, please.
I'll conduct this interview.

I wasn't angry at him
for that.

I was angry because he was
a disrespectful half-wit

who wouldn't know real vaud
if he sat on it.

- Oh, dear!

It's my --

Flatulence sack.

Hilarious.

Anyway, the man was alive
and well last I saw him.

He was wandering off
with the kid here,

and his little friend,
who, by the way,

also seemed pretty annoyed
with McClusky.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have no intention

of touching this investigation
with a 10 --

nay, 11-foot pole!

An 11-foot pole?

For the things I wouldn't touch
with a 10-foot pole!

Something worse --

worse than he would touch
with a 10-foot pole.

Mr. Chaplin.

Your friend was also annoyed
with Mr. McClusky last night?

Yes, that's true.

But Stanley wouldn't hurt a fly.

Detective.

This is my understudy
and my best friend

in the whole wide world.

Don't just stand there,
introduce yourself,

you simpering clod.

Sorry, yes.

Stanley Laurel.

Lovely to meet you,
Mr. Laurel.

It's devilishly hot in here,
isn't it?

No.

Need I write a statement,
so you have a record, Detective?

That won't be necessary
at this time, Mr. Laurel.

Now, I understand
you met with Mr. Chaplin

and Mr. McClusky last night?

Only for about an hour or so.

It's true I was rather cross
with Kenneth.

He called Charles a nasty name.

I shan't repeat it, of course.

Fat-headed dope.

It isn't true, Charlie.

Oh, dear.

That's why it's funny.

Like when I call you
an upside-down half-wit

or a desiccated cow-pat.

Well, I don't care for hearing
my friend

referred to in such a manner.

Now, Mr. Laurel,

when did you last see
Mr. McClusky?

When Charles and I
told him goodnight.

But I did hear him later on.

- There was an argument.
- What? When?

This was after you
went to sleep, Charlie.

In the hall at the hotel.

A screaming match, really.

- What about?
- I don't know.

But it involved Mr. McClusky.

Yes. He was arguing
with Obie Stratford.

Damn it, Stanley!

You, you -- you're paying
to have this cleaned.

You simpering little clod!

They're both just so funny!

Ah.

I'm afraid I won't be attending
the vaudeville tonight.

No? Why's that?

Something came up.

Margaret was quite
looking forward to it.

So was I.
Having you with us, I mean.

Maybe another time.

No --

My apologies.

I noticed a curious...

Something the matter?

No.

You can confide in me.

I was out with my daughter
when I saw a fellow inspector.

She knew that I was
avoiding him because...

It's happened before.

It's strange, isn't it?

The things we've been told
to pretend don't exist.

I find it hard lying
and hiding things.

How do you do it, Watts?

The same as you.

I feel bloody awful.

Precisely.

Mr. Stratford,
a witness overheard you arguing

with the deceased last night
at the hotel.

And yet you told me
that you had never met him.

I never said that.

I said I didn't know him.

Meeting someone in passing
is not the same as knowing them.

You argued.

What about?

He greased someone's palm
and ended up with my room.

"Your" hotel room?

I'm the host.
I'm the biggest name in vaud.

I arrive and they've given my
suite to some kid from Detroit?

- So the argument became heated.
- And so what of it?

The manager knew who I was.
He handled things.

Yes, but Mr. McClusky
ended up dead.

Maybe he killed himself because
he didn't like his hotel room.

He did not defenestrate himself,
Mr. Stratford.

He was murdered.

Well, I got what I wanted.

Why would I kill him?

Perhaps he insulted you.

You became angry.

I don't get angry! I --

I was standing right here when
the man nearly fell on my head!

How in God's name am I
meant to have killed him?

Rather choleric chap.

He does make a good point
though, sir.

I don't see how
it could have been him.

Perhaps he had help.

Oi! You there! Stop!

What is it, George?

Sir, I was sure I saw someone
back here with a knife.

With a knife?

Yes, I'm not sure
what he was doing with --

Look, George. This rope.

He was trying to cut it.
But why?

It's tied off here,
to these counterweights

and connected
to that large beam.

Sir, if he'd made it
through the rope...

It would have fallen directly
onto Mr. Chaplin.

Dear God.

Has someone just tried
to kill me?

This is mad. Why would anybody
want to kill me?

I don't know.

But this must connect back
to Mr. McClusky in some way.

Mr. Chaplin, what room are you
staying in, in the hotel?

416. Why?

I think I know what happened.

Come with me.

416.

But this isn't my room.

No.

But it was Mr. McClusky's room.

Room 419.

The killer mistook it for 416.

Indeed.

Then the killer, thinking
he was in Mr. Chaplin's room,

stalked toward the tub,

again, expecting to find
Mr. Chaplin inside.

He throws the lamp into
the bath, electrocutes the chap,

and only afterwards realized
he's got the wrong man.

I don't mean to dwell
on the issue,

but are you saying
someone tried to kill me twice?

Let's assume that
the killer was indeed trying

to kill Mr. Chaplin
in both incidences.

George?

I apologize, sir.

I'm preoccupied with how poorly
I took Higgins' news.

Ah, yes.

I too have had unwanted feelings
from time to time.

About this very issue.

Children, you mean?

Well, yes, George.

Seeing how happy Henry is,

it's only natural that
one would feel disappointed

that you don't have that
for yourself.

But there are other joys
in life.

Some of which one may not
be able to truly appreciate

if he were to be carrying the
responsibilities of parenting.

Yes, I suppose that
makes sense, sir.

I still feel what's missing,
from time to time.

But when I look at it in
the bigger picture of my life...

I can't help but feel grateful.

And satisfied that things
are the way they are.

And if that doesn't work,

you can always try keeping
your mind occupied.

Yes, sir. Right.

You know, I was thinking,
after our last run-in

with these vaudeville types,
it seems to me jealousy

and resentment
run rampant among them.

Professional jealousy
could be a motive.

Yes.
But furthermore, sir,

Mr. Chaplin is a young man.

So too was our victim.

Perhaps the old guard
are feeling threatened.

Who among the old guard
would be willing to kill

to protect his position?

You think I'm killing
young performers?

For what, to save my job?
That's madness!

I've been trying
to retire for years.

I can't!

Sure, Ed Ward could
take over the show.

But what would people
be watching?

Just a prop comic and who,
Charlie Chaplin?

Who's going to want
to watch that?

Well, is it possible,
Mr. Stratford,

that some of the less
successful performers

felt they were being supplanted
by these younger acts?

Could someone have
a professional grudge

against Charlie Chaplin?

Who would bother?

Look, I don't know if I can be
any clearer about this --

These kids, they're not funny.

Detective, there's a man
who says he witnessed

someone holding a knife
near the stage.

Ah, very good.

Stop!
What are you doing to him?

Perhaps I should look into that.

- I'll go with you.
- Thank you.

Julia.

Mr. Ward.

Oh, William, watch him.

He's hilarious.

Mr. Ward.

I understand
you're an eyewitness.

Yes.
I saw someone with a knife

skulking around backstage
earlier.

Who was it?

Well, I couldn't see the man's
face, only his silhouette.

But his hat was
rather distinctive.

How so?

Hold on, I have one
just like it.

No, no.

It's here somewhere.

Mr. Ward.

Oh. Here.

This is it.

A derby just like this,

except the brim was bent.

Like so.

May I see that?

Sure thing.

I think I have another one
in here anyway.

Julia, really?

He's funny!

Please.
Even I'm funnier than that.

I'm sorry.

Ohh.

Oi! That's enough!

I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, Pa!

Break it up. Break it up.

Alright, sir,
you're coming with us.

Take him away, McNabb.

Police have got it
out of hand.

You danged melon heads!
What do you think you're doing?

We're stopping your father
from beating the tar out of you.

He's not beating me.

It's a show, you morons!

I'm fine. Look.

Ohh.

- Huh.
- That's incredible!

It is all part of an act.

Sure.
We're a family act.

That was my pa, Joe Keaton.

And I'm Buster.

Most impressive.

Constable, bring him back!

Don't worry, son,
we'll let your father go.

Just a moment.
George, who is this young man?

Uh, Buster Keaton, sir.

Oh. Master Keaton?

- Is that your hat?
- Sure.

Well, only since lunchtime.

Oh. Give it to me, please.

Finders keepers.
That's the law, ain't it?

Not really, no.

It's monogrammed.

The pie is Fred's gag, Stanley.

We need something new.

I had an idea about bread rolls
and dinner forks, but...

Ah, Detective!

Gentlemen.

Do either of your recognize
this hat?

It could be anyone's. Why?

This hat matches exactly
the description of the one

worn by the saboteur.

- This hat?
- Yes.

And it has a monogram inside.

The initials SL.

Now, hold on.

Stanley.

This is your hat.

You tried to kill me!

No. No.

Mr. Laurel,
you are coming with me.

It is my hat, Detective.

But I swear to you,
I would never hurt Charlie.

The attempted murderer
was seen wearing this hat.

You see, I was rather frantic.

I found someone who recommended
a cleaners

to get that blasted ink
out of Charlie's shirt.

And I wrote the directions
on a piece of paper

and put the paper
inside my hat.

But on my way,
I got rather turned round

and retrieved the paper
from my hat

and somewhere in the process

managed to lose it.

My hat, I mean.

You put down your hat,
retrieved your piece of paper,

and in so doing,
somehow lost your hat.

Oh, I am forever losing things,
Detective.

I swear to you it's true.

Why would I want
to hurt Charlie?

Professional rivalry.

You are, after all,
Mr. Chaplin's understudy.

It is an honor and a privilege

to learn from someone
so talented.

Charlie Chaplin
is my best friend.

Sir, we've spoken with the other
members of the troupe.

And it appears Mr. Chaplin is
not a considerate colleague.

The others didn't like him?

- There is animosity.
- Now, that's it.

Mr. Laurel worships the ground
on which Charlie Chaplin walks.

Maybe one of the others did it.

Well, Mr. Chaplin and Mr. Laurel
arrived ahead of the others.

The rest only arrived
this afternoon.

So, what do you think?

Did this Laurel chap do it
or not?

He doesn't seem
capable, sir.

He's entirely deferential
and clumsy and clueless.

Well, that's what he
wants us to believe, George.

He is a performer, after all.

But all we have for evidence
is a hat, which he says he lost.

It's true.

Our only evidence
is circumstantial at best.

The vaudeville show
is tonight.

If he didn't do it, it would be
a shame to keep him away.

The question is is he funny?

Julia seems to think so.

Release him.

Me and the missus
want to see a good show.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Alright, George,
perhaps you and Watts

should go to
the vaudeville tonight.

Oh, yes, sir.

But don't be distracted
by the show.

You must keep your eyes on
Mr. Laurel at all times.

Right.

Nomi, I know why you're upset.

It was obvious why I avoided
the inspector.

You have to understand
that men like him

wouldn't accept the idea
of you being my daughter.

You mean he wouldn't accept you
if he knew I was your daughter.

- That's right.
- I know.

I'm not angry.

Well, then come
to the vaudeville tonight.

And what would happen if the
same situation were to arise?

You can't say you wouldn't do
the same thing again.

- No.
- Or perhaps this time

he'll approach you,
expecting an introduction.

- What then?
- I don't know.

I don't think I'll be attending
the vaudeville tonight.

- Nomi, you have to understand --
- I do.

You made a difficult choice.

And I'm not saying
what you did was wrong.

It's the world we live in.

Yes.

And it made clear
what we both know to be true.

That we can't be family
in public.

And if we are to try,

it would only be painful
for both of us.

Excuse me, Father.

Higgins.
Hold up a moment, Henry.

- What is it, George?
- Look.

I wasn't feeling myself
when you gave us your big news.

And I just wanted you to know

that I am truly
delighted for you.

I mean, it may be
the greatest thing

that can happen in a man's life,
and, well, you deserve it.

Cigars are appropriate
every step of the way.

Thank you, George.
I knew you'd be excited for me.

That's why I wanted you to be
Hieronymous' godfather.

Really?

Wanted.

Ruthie vetoed it.

Vetoed?

Miss Hart, isn't it?

Would you care for some company?

- Why would I want that?
- You seem to be alone.

I'm going to watch
the vaudeville tonight.

Company would only hinder
my enjoyment.

Well, that depends
on the company.

Maybe it would be better
than the show.

That would have to be some
awfully impressive company.

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

How are you?

Very nice to see you indeed.

This is Obie Stratford's
vaudeville revue...

I'll only be a moment, gents.
I need to find my things.

Wherever have they got to?

What exactly are you
looking for, Mr. Laurel?

My case.

Everything's moved round.

Your suitcase?

Yes, brown, yea big.

Alright, we'll help you look.

Your nose is a deeper
maroon than my hat.

Slow down on the drinking, sir.

You'll drive your horse
into a bale of hay.

- I kid, sir, I kid.

My father once told me, he said,
"Son, you should always know

when to stop
if you're going to drink,"

and I said "I do know
when to stop.

At the next place I come to."

That's right.

This is heavy.

What kind of act
uses iron gates?

Look.

It's all been placed
right beneath the trap door.

Look at this. It's barely
held in by a single nail.

I'd Like to bring him
out right now.

His name is Charles Chaplin!

Please welcome Charlie Chaplin.

Come on out here, Charlie.

Why is Obie Stratford
sharing the stage?

- He's a monologuist.
- I don't know.

But if Chaplin steps on this,
he'll fall right through.

And onto these gates.

Thank you,
ladies and gents!

Wait! Wait!

What?
What's happening down there?

Stop!
Somebody is trying to kill you!

What?

I said somebody is trying
to kill you!

Constable George Crabtree,
everyone!

We had barely begun!

Did you really have to call off
my entire show?

This trap door was
deliberately sabotaged

so that the moment
someone stepped on it,

they would have fallen through
onto dangerous iron gates.

Mr. Chaplin
could have been killed.

That had nothing to do with me.

Why did you invite Mr. Chaplin
onto the stage?

I felt like giving the kid
a break.

It wasn't planned.

No one,
even Mr. Chaplin, it seems,

knew that it was
going to happen.

Meaning you are the only person

who could have lured Mr. Chaplin
to his death.

I like the kid.

He's at least a little funnier
than the others.

Which could be precisely
why you are trying to kill him.

This again?

How could it have been me
who cut one of these ropes

when I was with you
the whole time?

You could have had
an accomplice,

just as you had someone
make a show

of nearly crushing you
with Mr. McClusky's body

right here on the stage.

Ridiculous.

Unless you have proof
of any of this, I'm leaving.

Look, I'm a young man.

I know I'm not known to
every household in America.

But I'll tell you this --
every town I arrive in,

I'm more famous when I leave.

And I leave many
pleased in my wake.

Women love a man
with a sense of humor.

So long as he is also
terribly handsome.

Look at this.

Tonight I performed for
barely 30 seconds

before the show came to a halt.

A young lady
still left me a note

hoping for
a romantic rendezvous.

That is quite something.

May I see that?

How do you know
it's from a young lady?

It could be from an old lady.

Or a young man.

Jealous, Detective?

Mr. Chaplin,
I believe this could be a ruse.

Whatever do you mean?

Someone is trying to kill you.

And immediately following
their latest failed attempt,

you receive an invitation
to meet someone,

alone, in a secluded place.

Oh, my.

Sir, are you suggesting this
note invites Charlie Chaplin

to a rendezvous with death?

I wouldn't put it quite
that dramatically, but yes.

Well, that's settled.

Rip it up.
I shan't be going.

Actually, Mr. Chaplin,
I believe you will go.

The rendezvous is set to take
place at this park bench, here.

Now, the Inspector and myself
will position ourselves here,

with a clear vantage
of anyone approaching

from either direction.

Constables will be
positioned here and here

in order to intercept
any potential attacker.

And what about me?

What about you?

I want to be there too.

I don't want anyone
killing someone

as funny as Charlie Chaplin.

Julia.

We'll position you somewhere
with a pram to keep an eye out.

My question is,
how can we be sure

that someone won't take a shot
at Chaplin from a distance?

Unfortunately, we can't.

However, I believe
Obie Stratford

to be our most viable suspect.

Now, Watts, you will be
following Obie Stratford

the entire time,

and you will remain in constant

wireless communication with me.

I'm meant to wear this?

But, sir, we know that
Mr. Stratford

couldn't have been
personally responsible

for each attempt
on Chaplin's life.

Exactly.

That is why we are taking
extra precautions

to ensure no harm comes
to Mr. Chaplin.

A bulletproof vest.

A metal hat to work
as a protective helmet.

Rubber-soled shoes
to guard against

any attempted electrocution.

And a smaller waist-worn version

of my portable
communication device.

Why can't I use
this smaller device?

I only had time to make one,
Watts.

If I need all this...

We already know someone
is trying to kill me.

And you're saying you want
to concoct a scenario

to allow him to try
and kill me again?

If I may, the killer
concocted the scenario.

We're merely trying to use it.

By using me as bait.

Well, not bait. More like...

Well, bait, but with protection.

Thank you, George.

No. Absolutely not.

The risk is too high.

Not just for myself,
but for the world.

I detest immodesty,
as you all know.

But to deprive the world
of Charles Chaplin

is to deprive
the world of laughter.

That is not a loss I can accept.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This is ridiculous.

Sir, I can barely move
in all this.

This hat is very heavy,
not mention far too small.

I could barely button my jacket
over the bulletproof vest.

And your communication device
means

I've had to wear trousers
that are far too large.

So too are these rubber shoes,
so large in fact,

I had to put them
on the wrong feet

to keep them from flying off.

George, you're only meant
to look like

Mr. Chaplin at a distance.

You'll be covering your face
once you're at the park bench.

Mr. Chaplin, you stay put.

I can barely walk in this.

I know.

Crabtree, grab this.

You like a bloody tramp.

Good work, George.

What do I do now?

Just stay put.

We'll alert you
if anyone approaches.

Watts, where are you?

At the midway, Inspector.

I can see Stratford.

He's at the top of the ladder,
taking down a banner.

Good.
Tell us if he moves.

Sir.

Do you think
that's the killer?

It's not Stratford.

Sir, it's not Mr. Stratford.

But it could be someone
working with him.

Sir, is that him?

It's not Stratford.

No, but is it the killer?

We don't know, George.

Should we stop him?

Wait.

Oh, it's just a passerby.

- George, can you hear that?

- Hear what?
- That.

It sounds like a -- a ticking.

- Did you say a "ticking" sound?
- Yes, sir.

The trash can beside me
is ticking.

Sir, do you remember
when I showed you

the replica of the alarm clock
wired to a bundle of...

TNT.

Someone's set a bloody bomb.

A bomb?!

George, don't move.

Don't move.
It could be rigged to the bench.

Good lord.

Julia, get away
from the trash can.

Right now.

I'm terribly sorry George.

Don't mention it.

This is how Stratford's
trying to kill Chaplin

without being here in person.

So what do we do, Murdoch?

I'll have to try to defuse it.

And what if it goes off
before you can?

Then George won't die alone.

George.

Oh.

What is it?

These wires are crossed.
It's harmless.

So it isn't going to go off?

Not unless someone were
to re-wire it.

The explosive isn't even
attached to the alarm clock.

So the killer has botched
another attempt.

But in a clever enough way
that we couldn't catch him.

Unless it was never meant
to go off in the first place.

- It's my --

Flatulence sack.

Ed Ward.

He's used his flatulence sacks
to hold this bomb together.

Sir, why was Ed Ward trying
to kill Charlie Chaplin?

He wasn't.

Ward didn't get
the room number wrong.

But he thought someone else
was going to be in that room.

Until he demanded a suite,
that was Obie Stratford's room.

After killing McClusky,
he saw another chance.

When he sliced that rope,

he wasn't trying to hit
Charlie Chaplin,

but the man
standing beside him.

But, sir, the stage trap door

that was sabotaged
to harm Chaplin.

George, Charlie Chaplin was
never supposed to be on stage.

Obie Stratford
isn't the killer.

Obie Stratford has been
the intended target all along.

Sir! Sir!

- The midway!
- What?

We have to get to the midway.

Stay out the way.

The midway!

George, George!

The midway, Julia!

Watts, Watts, Obie Stratford
is in danger.

I need you to detain Ed Ward.

- Who?
- Ed Ward!

- Edward?
Yes!

- Edward who?
- This isn't a joke, Watts!

What's funny about "Edward"?

Nothing! Nothing!

The prop man.

I need you to arrest him,

but don't let him know
that you're onto him,

otherwise he's likely
to pull that ladder

right out from under Stratford.

I'm supposed to arrest him

without him knowing
he's being arrested?

Exactly.

And what's his surname?

D'oh!

Sir! Wait! I'm coming.

What are you doing?

Stop shaking this ladder!

Stop it! Stop it!

No! No, no! Stop!

Help! Help!

I have had it!

Not only can you not find
a murderer,

this whole town smells
like a hog!

You're welcome.

Now, that's something.

You're under arrest!

Julia.

Alright now.

Stop!
Aah! Aah!

Julia! Julia!

William!
This is hardly the time!

Stay right here
and hold the wire.

Bloody hell.

Ed Ward, you are under arrest.

Magnificent!

Yes, I was trying to kill
Obie Stratford all along.

Of course I was!

- You wanted his job.
- I deserved it!

You purchased your entire act.

So?

He promised it to me!

Kept saying he was going to
retire, the show would be mine.

You killed a man and
nearly killed several others,

just to advance your career.

My career?

It wasn't just for my career.

It was for the people.

He's not even funny!

Mr. Carmichael.

What are you doing here?

Impressing upon you that
my company is worth keeping.

And you're doing that
by showing off your wealth?

Well, you already know
how attractive I am.

You've never had to work
for a thing in life, have you?

No.

Does it matter?

No.

Constable.

That costume you were wearing.

Is there any chance I could
purchase it from you?

Mr. Chaplin, those items
were designed to be used

in the solving of a murder.

I don't see what other
applications they could have.

And they were
very uncomfortable.

I felt like a penguin trying to
balance an anvil on my head.

Well, I'll have to
make my own then.

Charlie, Charlie,
I have it!

- I have it.
- Ohh.

- What is it?
- A film!

I sent Stan to see
those film men

that were set up on the midway.

They captured the whole arrest!

What on Earth would you
want that for?

I plan to study it.

George's costume was marvelous.

But this man at the center
of everything,

stoic in the face of chaos.

He's the funniest man
in the world!

- Him?
- Oh, yes.

This...

This is going to be big.

Well, well, well.

William Murdoch,
the funniest man in the world.

How about that?