All language subtitles for Murdoch.mysteries.S15E08.BAE.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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Woof, woof!

Meow!

Woof, woof!

Meow.

Gentlemen, thank you so much for coming.

It's simply terrible.

You are the lady of the house?

Yes, Deborah Anderson. Uh,
I was the one who telephoned.

We were having a party for my
husband when one of the guests,

our neighbour, walked in here and...

- Well, saw this.
- Afternoon, gentlemen.

It was my wife who found
him. Isn't that right, Sue?

Yes.

- What did you see, Mrs... ?
- Ah, Billingsley.

He was... dead.

Just lying there. Just like that.

You didn't see what happened?

Did anyone see what happened?

We didn't see a thing.

I didn't even arrive
until after it happened.

- Ah! An army man.
- Yes, sir.

Your undershirt's showing. Very sloppy!

A soldier is only as
fine as his uniform.

- Keep an eye on that, son.
- Mm-hm.

Who was the deceased?

- A guest?
- Yes. Mr. Albert Waxworthy.

A bachelor, so he came alone, of course.

He works for my husband, Lyle Anderson.

Of Anderson Insurance?

And where is your husband?

Oh! Honey? Here he is.

- Tere...
- Terrible!

Terrible business. I know.

Gentlemen, thank you so much for coming.

I'm Lyle Anderson.

And you are?

Why did it have to be you two?

What the bloody hell's going on, Meyers?

Who is Lyle Anderson?

I am Lyle Anderson.

Terence Meyers is my spy name.

You've unfortunately stumbled
into my civilian life.

Who is the dead man?

Waxworthy.

- He worked for me.
- As a spy?

No. As an insurance salesman.

You actually own an insurance company?

Yes, I do.

- Anderson Insurance.
- Ah...

I think Margaret bought
an annuity from you.

- And that is a fine investment, Tom.
- Ah.

So, that's really your wife?

- And those are your children?
- Yes, they are.

- Who killed Waxworthy then?
- I have no idea.

- Well, must have been a spy.
- Certainly not.

I am exceedingly cautious.

Nobody that knows Terence
Meyers knows about Lyle Anderson.

And nobody that knows
Anderson knows about Meyers.

Mrs. Hart is on her way here now.

No. Call her off.

- Someone needs to examine the body.
- Your wife, then.

- She can be trusted.
- If no one in this house knows you're a spy,

then why is there a man lying
on your living room floor

with a knife stuck in his back?

People kill for all
kinds of reasons, Tom.

But this most certainly

is not a matter of national security.

Oh! Uh, I know it's not an
appropriate time for cake,

but we have to eat something and, uh,

I'm hardly able to cook.

Leave it on the table for me,
will you please, dear? Junior!

What'd I tell you about
touching my train set?

I didn't even do anything.

You're such a stick in
the mud, you know that?

- You're getting that hair cut, young man!
- Yes, sir.

Right, then.

We need to know where everyone was

the moment that Mr.
Waxworthy's body was found.

Ah, well we were all over
the place, weren't we dear?

I'm afraid so. We were
playing Cats and Dogs.

Cats and dogs?

It's a parlour game, Murdoch.

Margaret loves to play it all the time.

You hide playing cards
all around the house.

One team searches for red
cards, the other for black.

Two cards per player.

My husband and I were team
captains, so we hid the cards.

You search all over
and when you find one,

you bark or meow, depending
on what team you're on.

The last time I saw Mr.
Waxworthy was in the back garden.

You were searching for
cards in the back garden?

You're permitted to hide them anywhere.

I was in the kitchen and could
hear them through the window.

I overheard them talking about birds.

Mm-hm. We spotted some lovely warblers.

I was in the garden, as well.

Waxworthy went inside,
but Deborah and I remained.

That was only a minute or two before I

came in here and saw him.

We need to track all of
the guests' movements.

We should interview them separately.

Right. Do you want the cats or the dogs?

Hello, youths. You wanted
to speak with a detective?

We'd like to report a
MISSING PERSON: Coach Keen.

What did he coach?

Basketball. We're the
Carlton Street Stallions.

And when did you see him last?

Two hours ago.

He was meant to be back in 30 minutes.

We found this in the alley.

It's his hat.

- Looks like blood.
- Ah.

Where was he off to?

He was just going down
the street to buy uniforms.

We all chipped in and
gave him seven dollars.

You paid for them yourselves?

Yeah. We have money.

- You can't prove we stole it.
- Oh.

Right. So, this Coach Keen
went off to buy uniforms

and then never came back?

Is there anything you
can tell us about him?

- He's short.
- Hm.

- And dirty.
- And he has a mustache.

An ugly one.

How long have you lads known this chap?

Since yesterday.

You need an adult to sign
up for the basketball league,

so we saw one and we asked him.

Right, well, we'll...

we'll see what we can do, lads.

Hello?

Oh.

Ah, Julia!

Thank you for coming.

Well, it was a treat
to get out of the house.

But why did you need me
here instead of Miss...

It's a bit of a delicate
situation, actually.

Dr. Julia Ogden, allow
me to introduce you to

Lyle Anderson.

Lyle Anderson?

- You're Lyle Anderson, are you?
- Yes, I am.

Oh.

Of course, you are.

I believe what Julia
is trying to say is that

she recognizes your name from purchasing

- your insurance products.
- Oh! I see. Yes.

Oh, yes!

That's right.

Anderson Insurance.

Well, why don't I get down to work?

Hm.

Strange people.

Right, then.

Mrs. Anderson stated that the
murder weapon came from the kitchen.

Did anyone report being in there?

I was there earlier in the afternoon.

And your wife, after that.

Everyone was in there at some point.

Well, whoever it was,

the circumstances of this
suggest that it was premeditated.

Did anyone you spoke
with suggest a reason why

someone would want
to kill Mr. Waxworthy?

- No one.
- Everyone loved the old fella.

Same with everyone I spoke to.

Something isn't right.

Oh, it's just a bloody
sketch. Here we go.

Your daughter was in the cloakroom.

Bud Kitterman had not yet arrived.

Junior was upstairs.

Mrs. Anderson was in the
garden with Mr. Billingsley.

I was here,

coming out of the water closet.

Mrs. Billingsley discovered Mr.
Waxworthy's body in the living room.

Now, if we assume that
Mr. Waxworthy was killed

moments before his body was discovered,

the only person who could have slipped

into the living room
unseen was your daughter.

Lorraine Anderson.

I was in the kitchen when I
heard Mrs. Billingsley scream.

Where were you right before that?

Um, I was in the cloakroom
searching for playing cards.

I'd been there, maybe, a few minutes.

So, a few minutes before
the body was found,

you'd also been in the living room.

- Was anyone there?
- No one.

Mr. Waxworthy had not
yet entered the room.

So, while you were in the cloakroom

did you hear anything
happening in the living room?

I heard someone whistling.

Birdsong.

Waxworthy was discussing
warblers in the garden.

Then the whistling stopped
and there was a sound.

What sound, honey?

Ah, it was a sort of clunk.

A clunk? Can you elaborate?

I don't know how to
describe it. It was a clunk.

A minute or so later I
came out of the cloakroom.

Waxworthy must have been there.

No. No. The living room was empty.

It was dark because
the drapes were drawn,

but I'm sure Mr.
Waxworthy was not there.

The drapes were drawn?

- Yes.
- Why?

Come on now, Detective.

Cats and Dogs is all
the more fun in the dark.

It is, actually.

The coach never made it
to pick up the uniforms.

Are you sure?

Somewhere between that
alley and here is where he...

Well, where something happened.

Well, maybe there was an accident...

he saved somebody's life?

I mean, that would explain the bloo...

Or maybe he fell into the sewer

and was sucked into the
deep by the creatures

that dwell therein. Watts?

Hm? Yes.

- Yes, what?
- I agree with you.

- Agree with what?
- What?

What's that?

"Uniforms."

The envelope the money was in, perhaps.

There's blood on it.

Uh-huh.

Well, he was stabbed, clearly.

Large kitchen knife buried
five inches into his back.

It's been wiped clean.

I doubt very much I'll be
able to obtain fingermarks.

Also, it seems the body was moved.

- Ah, the bunched-up sweater.
- Yes.

He seems to have been
dragged by his feet.

If he was dragged in a straight line,

then he may have been killed
by this bookcase, but...

No sign of anything.

Perhaps he was dragged
in from another room?

Or the killer began dragging
the body but was interrupted.

We've been unable to determine motive

for anyone wanting
to kill Mr. Waxworthy.

Perhaps this is a case
of mistaken identity?

And who was he mistaken for?

- Similar sweater.
- Same build, same hair.

I find it far more likely
that someone would want to kill

a secret agent over
an insurance salesman.

Oh, I don't know about that, Murdoch.

They're all smarmy buggers.

Mr. Anderson! Do not eat that!

What? Why?

Look.

Discoloration where it was
touching the cake, oxidization.

- If it's aluminum...
- Then it could be reacting to lye.

Mr. Anderson,

I believe someone may
be trying to kill you.

I hate to say it, but if
someone is trying to kill you...

Murdoch, I can assure you this is
not a matter of national security.

Nobody in this house

knows of the existence
of Terence Meyers.

Maybe one of your friends
isn't such a friend after all?

I've known my wife for 18 years.

I've watched both of
my children being born.

The Billingsleys have been our
neighbours for over a decade.

None of them, I assure you,
none of them suspect a thing.

What of your daughter's...

- escort?
- Bud Kitterman.

I don't like him.

I don't trust him. He's no good.

But I have scrutinized his
parents, his grandparents

and every single one of his
relatives living and dead.

Murdoch, I've been in his
bedroom when he's asleep at night.

He's a sorry excuse for
a man, but he's no spy.

So, you think someone is
trying to kill Lyle Anderson,

not Terence Meyers?

So it would seem.

Why would anyone want to do that?

I haven't the foggiest.

- You moved the body?
- To the spare bedroom. Quite the heavy chap.

What have you learned?

The rest of the cake isn't reacting
to aluminum and no one got sick.

I believe Mr. Anderson's piece
of cake was the only one poisoned.

And the lye?

Mrs. Anderson keeps some under the sink.

His piece of cake was left out on
the table for at least 15 minutes.

Meaning anyone could have
accessed the lye in the kitchen

and sprinkled some on his piece of cake.

True.

But his wife's the one
who served it to him.

You think I tried to
kill my own husband?

You were the one who served
him a poisoned slice of cake.

Well, why would I do
such an awful thing?

I couldn't wish for a better husband.

Lyle is truly a good and honest man.

Well, that doesn't mean
you didn't want to kill him.

Wives kill their husbands
for all kinds of reasons:

infidelity, bankruptcy,

drunkenness, slovenliness.

A cold demeanour.

What of the other guests?

Do you know of any
reason why any of them

would wish your husband harm?

No.

Mrs. Anderson, someone
has tried to kill him

and may try to do so again.

Please, if you know something, tell us.

- He wouldn't have done anything, not really.
- Who?

- Just tell them, Mom.
- Lorraine, shh.

Tell us what?

Don't mind her. She
gets ideas in her head.

In my head? He's the one with the ideas.

- Lorraine!
- Mrs. Anderson, please.

- What are these?
- Proof.

Junior's been wanting
to kill Dad for years.

I didn't do it.

These drawings of yours certainly
suggest you wanted to kill him.

Ah. Those are just for fun.

Your father's being
ripped apart by lions.

- That's fun?
- Yes.

You're being accused of murder, son.

You stated that you went
upstairs to your room

shortly after Dogs and Cats began.

I found a couple of cards and quit.

I hate that stupid game.

And you didn't come out of your room

until you heard Mrs. Billingsley scream?

I was up there the whole time.

We'll ask everyone if they saw you.

Are you sure?

Why would I kill him, anyways, hm?

Why would I stab a man in the
living room of a crowded party

when I could just as easily
go upstairs while he's asleep,

smother him with a pillow.

Grab the bag that I packed in advance,

walk 15 minutes to the train station,

take the midnight express
to Pennsylvania before dawn?

Hm?

I'll ask the other guests,
but I tend to believe him.

Aren't you going to ask me who did it?

Did what?

Tried to kill my father.

It's obvious, isn't it?

Bud came from out of town to visit Dad.

He wanted to ask Lorraine to marry him.

Dad said no.

Mr. Kitterman had not yet arrived.

I wouldn't be so sure, Murdoch.

I think he had.

My guess would be whoever
bloodied the hat stole the money.

Perhaps someone saw something?

You there!

Have you been here long?

All afternoon. Why?

We're looking for a
chap by the name of Keen,

a basketball coach.

Oh, yeah. I know him.

- Really?
- Sure, I play basketballs every Saturday.

- You do?
- Well, when I'm not mountain climbing.

Ah! Very funny.

Look, we think this chap
may have been injured

in the vicinity over
the last couple of hours.

He's described as...

short, dirty, mustached

and in possession of seven dollars.

Describes half the drunks in this town,

except for the seven dollars part.

Drunks.

Oh, no.

When did you arrive at the party

- this afternoon, Kitterman?
- Just after the murder.

I heard Miss Billingsley scream
as I came up the front walk.

Are you sure about that, son?

Yes. Of course.

You're looking very smart.

I am an army man, sir.

When we arrived,

your undershirt was showing
and your collar was unbuttoned.

I fixed it for you.

There was something on your undershirt.

Pull your shirt up.

What is that?

Is that blood?

Lipstick.

Wha...

You were wearing lipstick?

There is only one
explanation, Mr. Kitterman,

you lied to us. You were here.

You were kissing Miss
Anderson in the cloakroom

just before the murder.

It's true.

It's all true.

I lied about when I
arrived at the party,

but I didn't kill anyone.

What time did you get here?

Around 2:30. It was probably
15 minutes before the scream.

What happened when you came inside?

It was dark. The only person
in the living room was Lorraine.

She said that she wanted
to show me something and,

well, we went into the cloakroom.

So, no one else saw you come inside?

No. That's why we thought we
could have some time alone to...

To what son, hm?

What were you doing with my daughter?

Kissing?

And when did you come
out of the cloakroom?

A few minutes later.

Waxworthy?

We heard him whistling,
but he wasn't there.

- No dead body?
- No!

I swear. Everything was normal.

I went back out the front door
so I could pretend to arrive so...

Mr. Anderson wouldn't know that
I'd been alone with Lorraine.

You little snake.

You were there. Hm?

You killed Waxworthy because
you thought you were killing me!

Mr. Anderson, should
we get some fresh air?

Well, that boy's life
is worth next to nothing.

He seems like a thoroughly decent chap.

Not good enough for my daughter.

Well, regardless of his character,

the sequence of events
doesn't make sense.

He would have to have gone
straight from kissing young Miss...

Anderson to locating Mr. Waxworthy,

stabbing him, then dragging his body

to the middle of the living
room for no apparent reason...

Then going about his day
as if nothing had happened.

Yeah. You're right.

Boy doesn't have a
backbone to murder anybody.

He is an army man.

He enlisted last week.

- Ah!
- Sir,

perhaps we ought to speak with
the person who discovered the body?

Mrs. Billingsley,

before you found Mr.
Waxworthy in the living room,

are you sure you saw no one else there?

Positively.

And Mr. Waxworthy was dead?

Yes, of course.

Where did you enter from?

The back door there.

I went through the kitchen
and into the living room.

And did you see anyone
else along the way?

No. Yes!

Lorraine was coming past
me out to the garden.

Then where was bloody Waxworthy?

Two people said the
living room was empty

and less than a minute
later you found him dead.

Now that doesn't really add up, does it?

Easy, now. My wife did nothing wrong.

How can you be so sure?

You were sitting out
here the whole time.

My wife is not a murderer,
sir. How dare you?

I dare because she's the only
one who could have done it.

Isn't that right, Murdoch? Murdoch?

Sir.

The wall.

There's something not
quite right about it.

Another round!

Uh, I'm afraid not, barkeep.

Mr. Keen here has just run out of money.

What in tarnation?

What are you doing in here?

Those kids are waiting
on their uniforms.

What kids?

What uniforms?

The uniforms this
money was meant to buy.

They trusted you. They just
wanted to play basketball.

They're street rats.

Barkeep. Another round.

- We thought you'd been attacked.
- I was.

Me and him been at it since we was kids.

All right! Stop it.

I've got half a mind to arrest you.

Now, where's the rest
of the seven dollars?

- You're holding it.
- Hm. He's not worth the hot meal.

With me, Constable.

The study ends at this wall.

The kitchen only extends to that one.

- The exterior of the house is continuous.
- What are you saying?

There is something behind this bookcase.

You think there's
something hidden there?

Darling, would you please
go look in on the children?

I'd like to have a word
with the detective alone.

- Whatever for?
- Oh, I shouldn't want to worry you with it, dear.

Of course, sweetheart.

Time to come clean, "Lyle".

You may never speak a word of this.

Ready?

For what?

The Birds of America.

You have a secret,
hidden lair in your home?

Yeah. I use it to become Terence Meyers.

I can sneak in here
without my family noticing.

What in the world?

Why did you not tell us about this?

Because there was no need to. It
has nothing to do with the murder.

Mr. Waxworthy's body was dragged
to the middle of the living room,

likely from the direction
of this very bookcase.

It's highly probable that he was
murdered here and then dragged...

It's not even remotely probable.

Nobody - but nobody - knows
of the existence of this room.

How can you be so sure?

Because my entire career, my
entire life, depends on no...

Mr. Meyers?

No.

What is it?

No, it can't be.

What is that?

This is a paradox machine.

I use it to send and
receive coded messages.

Well, whatever it is,
what's the problem?

Problem...

Every afternoon I come in here
to check for unread messages.

This afternoon, I've not yet
done so because of the murder.

So what?

This machine was recently
outfitted with a new device.

It's a clock,

which stops every time
a new message is read.

The clock cannot be
restarted without this key.

Ingenious.

And this message was read at 1:34.

That would be after the guests
had arrived for the party.

What did the message say?

Well, it doesn't matter. Don't
you see what's going on here?

It means some foreign
agent of unknown allegiance

knows of my identity, broke
in here and read this message.

This machine, and by extension
the government of Canada,

has been compromised.

I can't believe a man would
do something like that!

And to children, no less.

Man is defined by nothing
if not his failings.

What will we do?

Half of those children
probably live on the street.

They just want to play a game.

Well, we find them a new coach.

And another seven dollars for uniforms.

Ah, well, six. But, yes, you're right.

That's what we'll do.

In fact...

What are you doing?

Articulate your thoughts, man.

Just...

Oof.

Mr. Meyers,

you said this machine
was recently outfitted

- with the clock mechanism?
- Yesterday.

Well, then it's entirely
possible that whoever read

this message has been reading

all of your messages for some time.

Yes.

- Dear God.
- So, this time,

the spy saw the clock contraption

and knew that the moment
you came here and saw it,

he'd be found out.

Hm. He'd have to kill me
before I discovered it.

What was Waxworthy doing
here? Maybe he's the spy.

The spy is not one of the guests.

The culprit likely
came from the outside.

How is that possible?

I have a secret passageway
that allows me to enter and exit

the building without being detected.

You have a secret passageway
that would allow someone

from the outside to enter
and exit this home undetected

- and you did not tell us about it?
- Yeah.

Now, if you'd like to follow me.

This whole area is extremely private

and I only enter and exit
under the cover of night,

so it's very improbable
that any friend, family,

or neighbour would
discover this passageway.

What's your theory, then?

Clearly, this security
breach is the result

of an extensive surveillance operation

conducted by an enemy state.

What? Watching your privet?

Monitoring the entrance to a top-secret

government facility, Inspector.

Hidden behind your bookcase.

I wonder who could have pulled it off?

The resources and ingenuity
would be extraordinary.

Could be Chernyshevsky, the Russians.

There's something about this whole thing

that reeks of the Germans.

Ahlbecker.

Or perhaps even Mademoiselle Rivière...

Mr. Meyers, I don't care who did it.

The fact that you've hidden this lair

and secret passageway from us

has rendered the entire
investigation to this point useless!

You've been lying to us!
Maybe you were the one

that Waxworthy saw walking
through the bookcase?

You killed him to protect your secret.

And you've brought us in here
to play out a little charade

for the benefit of
your wife and children.

I admit your theory is quite plausible.

But I can assure you I'm far too
good of a spy to make that mistake.

Have you used this
passageway since the murder?

- No. Why?
- Oh! Interesting.

- Why is that interesting?
- Because Mr. Waxworthy was a dog.

- A what?
- Mr. Waxworthy was a dog.

And this very red playing card

was dropped inside
the secret passageway.

The spy is a cat.

Mr. Meyers, one of your own
guests has found you out.

I can't believe that.

It's the only plausible explanation.

One of your guests or family
members is a secret agent.

Working against you. And
you didn't even know it.

Who could it be?

I believe this card will
lead us to the guilty party.

Wait, Murdoch.

You can't question
anybody about that card.

Why not? Whoever
dropped it is the killer.

And the killer is an espionage
agent who must be found

and delivered to Prime Minister Laurier.

But everyone else out there knows
nothing about the passageway,

nothing about the spy and
nothing about Terence Meyers.

And it's imperative
that it be kept that way.

I'm rounding up the cats and dogs.

- Thank you, Constable.
- Ah, enough of this "constable" business.

Call me Coach.

All right, lads, let's
get down to the gymnasium!

- We've got a game to play.
- Let's go! Come on!

Coach, are you quite
sure this was a good idea?

Well, they seem like decent
lads. I think it could be fun.

I meant the money stolen
from the station house.

Well, the inspector has
enough scotch for now.

I'm sure he won't mind missing
a few dollars from the kitty.

Well, if he was there
I'd have asked him.

Ladies and gentlemen...

there has been a
development in the case.

This card was found in an unusual place.

- Murdoch...
- I will not tell you where it was found,

but four cats in this room

claim to have found two
red playing cards each.

How you answer the following question

will determine the
identity of the killer,

so please answer carefully.

Lorraine, where did you find
your two red playing cards?

Um, I found one in a coat
pocket in the cloakroom

and the other was beneath
the cushion on that chair.

Junior? Your two cards?

Under a mat at the front door
and on a table by the cloakroom.

Mr. Anderson, the same question.

Behind that painting and on the
bottom shelf of the bookcase.

Mrs. Billingsley?

On the stove in the kitchen
and under this lampshade here.

Thank you all very much.

Our investigation has come to an end.

The killer has revealed themselves.

This card was the one
hidden under that lampshade

and later discovered under
the dead body of Mr. Waxworthy.

Nonsense! That's impossible.

Inspector, please
arrest Mrs. Billingsley

for the murder of Albert Waxworthy.

- No! It can't be. I didn't...
- Julia,

please take the two
young Andersons outside

- to be certain that they are all right.
- Of course.

Please come with me, ma'am.

I'll call a carriage, Murdoch.

Where are you taking her?

Station house four.

Best if you come along, as
well, Mr. Billingsley. Ma'am?

This is ridiculous.

That was quite impressive, Murdoch.

How did you know that was the exact
card found under that lampshade?

I didn't.

Just a hunch?

No.

It simply isn't true.

Accusing Mrs. Billingsley

gave me the opportunity to
interrogate the real killer.

If any of the four cats were guilty,

they would have lied about where
they found their playing cards.

But all of their accounts matched
what Mrs. Anderson told us earlier.

So, the only person who could
have dropped this card...

The same person who broke into your lair

and read your secret message
off of your communication device,

dropping this card in
her haste to escape.

It is true.

I am a spy.

You tripped the clock on
the communication device.

You dropped the card on your way out.

But how did Waxworthy end up dead?

I wanted to go back into the
lair to try again to fix it.

But he saw me stepping into the privet.

Once he knew, he had to be eliminated.

You have the authority
to murder citizens?

I have the authority to
do what needs to be done.

I distracted him with talk of songbirds,

pretended to misidentify one

and suggested he look
at The Birds of America.

There's nothing men like more
than proving themselves right.

You'd already reset the train.

Then took the knife from the kitchen...

and went back into the lair

through the secret
passage to lie in wait.

Once the bookcase turned, I was ready.

I threw the knife into his back.

He was dead before he even
knew what had happened.

Why drag him into the living
room where anyone could find him?

If Waxworthy simply disappeared,

I knew that Lyle would check his office.

My only hope was that the
police would not find out

the truth before I was
able to fix everything.

Fix what?

Eliminate the target.

Who are you?

What...

Who do you work for?
When did they get to you?

My name is Laura Söllner.

I was born in Vienna.

I've been an agent of the
Austro-Hungarian empire

since I was 14 years old.

Oh, dear God.

I was sent to Canada

to infiltrate your
intelligence operations.

Great Britain's security
was deemed too sophisticated.

But Canada? Canada shares
in British intelligence.

And Canada is weak.

I compromised the entire British Empire

because I was blinded by love.

It is true.

I was sent here to exploit you.

But...

but, in time, I came to love you.

You have been lying to
me every day for 18 years.

And you to me!

- It's not the same!
- How is it not the same?

I love you.

I love you!

Why should I believe you?

Why?

You shouldn't.

And you're sure you've got
the right one this time?

To be honest, sir, something
isn't sitting right.

So it was Mrs. Billingsley after all?

No! No, no, no.

It was Meyers' wife
who breached his lair.

But something about her
account doesn't add up.

She led Waxworthy in,
threw her knife in his back,

then dragged him out to the middle
of the living room to be found.

But if that truly was her intent,

why not save the time and effort
and simply kill him out here?

She threw the knife?

That's impossible.

The knife was buried far
too deeply into his back

- to have been thrown.
- You're quite sure?

Positive. She's lying.

She led him to the bookcase.

Made sure he went inside.

Someone else was waiting
for him inside the lair.

A second spy?

She's lying to protect the
identity of her accomplice.

But who?

Mr. Billingsley!

I always keep a weapon close at hand.

You've killed him!

Check his pocket.

It's a gun.

So, Billingsley was her accomplice.

She didn't make a single
mistake in 18 years.

What are the chances she would
have exposed herself to Waxworthy?

He didn't catch you going
into that privet, did he?

No. Of course not.

I was the one that was going
to find that clock stopped.

- I was the target.
- But she sent Waxworthy in? Why?

To spare my life.

Billingsley was the one lying in wait.

And she knew he'd be ready to kill
whoever came through that bookcase,

assuming it would be me.

And how did you figure that out?

Any spy under deep cover for
that long would have a handler,

likely someone close to her. Plus,

the Billingsleys invited us
to Christmas dinner in 1904;

served soup.

Austrians.

So, he was about to shoot you?

No.

He was about to shoot her.

She had been compromised

and he couldn't let the
Canadians find out what she knew.

You saved her life,
just as she saved yours.

I love you, Lyle Anderson.

The name's Meyers.

Terence Meyers.

If you cooperate,
they'll spare your life.

Perhaps.

Become a double agent.

Work with me instead of against me.

Would you do the same?

Betray the country that you love?

Precisely.

Goodbye, my love.

Goodbye, Terence Meyers.

Auf wiedersehen.

Sir, I have a confession to make.

I helped myself to a loan.

- Eh?
- From your kitty.

You've stolen from the petty cash?

Well, sir, just temporarily.

I've decided to coach
a youth basketball team:

the Carlton Street Stallions.

Ah, but I promise I'll have them
raise the funds and pay it all back.

What's the money for?

Uniforms.

I'll tell you what, Crabtree.

You can keep the money on one condition,

- that they change their name.
- Sir?

Station Four Stallions.

Oh, I like the ring of that.

Managed by Coach Crabtree.

Oh, I love the ring of that.

Make sure I get an
invite to the first game.

Sir, will do.

Thank you, my good fellow.

Seems we can't manage
to avoid one another.

It does seem that way, Detective.

Perhaps it is a sign from above.

Um, can't say I'm a
believer in such things.

No, nor am I. Then again,

I have nothing to do for the
remainder of the afternoon.

Oh! Would you care for
a pretzel, Mr. Strange?

Yes, I think I would.

One.

Will you see your wife again?

Doubtful.

Although our man, McCutcheon,

was captured in Salzburg.

If he survives the torture,
there could be a trade.

That would be nice.

Thank you, Murdoch.

You're welcome, Mr. Meyers.

The name's Anderson.

Mm.

Dad? What happened?

Children, I'm afraid I have
some very bad news to give you.

Your mother has run off
with Mr. Billingsley.

- What? What?
- Yeah.

It was the two of them
that killed Mr. Waxworthy

in order to try to keep
their clandestine love affair

from getting out and...

- Our men are pursuing them now.
- Mm.

I fear they may be
headed for the border.

Which case, we'll likely
never see either of them again.

We'll never see Mom again?

No, son. I'm sorry.

So, we're stuck with you?!

Dad, Bud and I have an announcement.

We're getting married!

Father.

Hm.

Sorry.

So, when is your new book coming out?

Beg your pardon?

50 Reasons to Kill Your Husband,

- by Dr. Julia Ogden.
- Oh, hush.

Oh, you clearly have been giving
it a great deal of thought.

Even if you were a
dastardly Russian spy,

I wouldn't kill you, William.

Although you could stand to be
more complimentary of my cooking.

Talk about motive for murder.

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