All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S14E06.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

In fact, I'd go as far
as to pronounce

Miss Melita Bentz'
invention revolutionary.

Revolutionary?

- A paper filter?
- Absolutely.

- Oh.
- My morning cup is vastly

improved by the exclusion
of spent coffee grinds.

Hm.

Perhaps I shall install a drip
coffee maker in the shop?

- For the customers.
- Promotional gambit?

Ahh...

"A coffee break with
your sirloin steak."

"Slake your thirst
and buy liverwurst."

This evening?

Of course.

I've paid in full.

I've been waiting here
for half an hour.

If you do not hand over
what is mine --

Can I help you?

Oh! Detective Lewellyn Watts.

Uh, I'm waiting for a delivery.

Here? What type of delivery?

- Ah...
- Axel Crawford?

I'm Axel Crawford.

Constance Weatherly.

I serve Virtue's Ministry.
Is there a problem?

- Only problem is you're late.
- My apologies.

The kitchen took woefully long
to warm my gruel.

You have business
with this gentleman?

Mr. Crawford is a client
of the Ministry's.

Well, then,
I'll leave you to it.

Are you ready to collect
your bride, Mr. Crawford?

Miss Weatherly, Maddie's
locked herself in the lavatory.

Our Virtue Girls often need
to be gently pried

from their surroundings
at this stage.

Ah, Detective, could you --

Those are Maddie's slippers.

She's got to be in there,
but she won't --

Madeline Tomkins!

- Come out here immediately!
- What is this place?

This is the Ministry's
dormitory.

A way station for Virtue Girls
on the road to redemption.

This is Detective Watts
of the Toronto constabulary.

Please open the door!

Miss Tomkins?

- Madeline?
Oh, my lord.

Her name was Tomkins?

Madeline Tomkins.
That is correct.

And what's your relationship
to the deceased?

She was one of my wards.

Ah, Mr. Crawford paid her fare
from England

in exchange for
her hand in marriage.

She gave her hand in marriage
in exchange for a boat trip?

Oh, it's far more complicated
than that.

Our Virtue Girls
have limited prospects.

They ought to be grateful
for any proposals they receive.

"Virtue Girls"?

Beneficiaries of the Virtue's Ministry.

Female convicts who have been
given a choice

between a filthy cell
in Holloway Prison,

or a virtuous marriage
to a Canadian bachelor.

I've not heard of this Ministry.

Oh.
Perhaps you don't need a wife.

Do you have you any idea

why Miss Tomkins
may have committed suicide?

Well, Madeline's life was
a virtual cabaret of depravity.

It's possible she could
no longer endure the shame.

The shame?

She was a harlot.

I find that an uncharitable
view, Miss Weatherly.

She was just a struggling
soul -- like the rest of us.

My apologies
for speaking harshly.

My nerves are terribly frayed.

Mr. Crawford,
I will speak with you

once I'm finished
with Miss Weatherly.

Madeline Tomkins was arrested
for prostitution?

Tried and convicted
at the Old Bailey.

She was given a choice --
serve prison time

or serve as a dutiful wife
to Mr. Crawford.

She chose the latter.

Seems she's had second thoughts.

Those women are also
"Virtue Girls"?

Correct.

Kate Barker, Flannery Oats,
Sadie Lange.

I am chaperoning them
to new homes,

new husbands, and new hopes.

Is that the case, ladies?

Are your prospects as sunny
as Miss Weatherly is proposing?

My condolences for the loss
of your friend.

This must be a terribly
upsetting time.

So's having a constable spew
hollow sympathies in your face.

I assure you my concern
is genuine.

Never met a cop who gave
a toss about a whore.

Detective William Murdoch.

Do any of you know
why Miss Tomkins

may have taken her own life?

Well, it's possible
she didn't fancy

spending the rest of her life
in some muddy shack,

bedding a hog farmer.

If that were my lot,
I'd off myself, too.

But I'm marrying
a very prosperous man.

- Very prosperous old man.

Old just means he'll die sooner

and you'll be rich
and rid of him.

That's just me joking,
Detective.

So, you are all willingly
uprooting your lives

to marry perfect strangers?

It's better than rotting
in Holloway prison.

What was your crime?

Broke a few windows.

That's it?

At 10 Downing Street, she did.

The Prime Minister's Residence.

I was protesting
with the suffragettes.

Brick through a window
tends to get people's attention.

Especially when it cracks
a lawyer's skull open.

Well, that part was an accident.

And your crime?

They claim I'm a public menace.

Happy go lucky.

That's me.

Plus, I been banned
from every pub in London.

What's the point of
staying in a city

where I can't get a drink?

- Detective?
- Yes?

What will become of
poor Madeline now?

Our coroner, Miss Hart,
will perform a post-mortem.

What could possibly be gained

from assaulting her flesh
even further?

It's a procedure that legal
protocol demands, I'm afraid.

In the meantime, I'll need
to contact her next of kin.

Oh!

Miss Tomkins has no kin
who would want word of her,

living or dead.

Note her eyes.

There's a dark band
of discoloration.

What is that?

It's known as "tache noir
de la sclerotique."

-"Black spot of the sclera".
- Yes.

It occurs when mucous congeals
upon the sclera of one

who's died with their eyes open.

The mark can take at least
two hours to form.

So, she's been dead
at least two hours?

Longer, I'd say.

Her body temperature suggests
she expired late last night.

If you can be any more specific,

Miss Hart, it would
be greatly appreciated.

Good day.

I'm not sure what to think
about this "Virtue's Ministry."

You don't approve.

Of shipping desperate women
across the ocean

to marry strangers
who've paid for them?

Of course not!

Men are paying
their passage here, Julia.

These women are criminals.

And yet I've never heard
of male criminals

being forced into marriage.

They aren't being forced.

They're given the freedom
to choose.

William, when the choice
is marriage or prison,

which of those sounds
like freedom to you?

Forgive the intrusion,
Detective.

- Miss Hart.
It's Madeline Tomkins.

Upon further examination,

I found that her hyoid bone
is broken.

- But that would indicate...
- Strangulation.

I've determined that her wrists
were slashed postmortem.

Miss Tomkins' death
was not a suicide, but a murder.

Murder?

But the dormitory was locked
for the night.

The girls were all
securely inside.

At least, I believed they were.

Poor Madeline.

Did any of the girls hold
any sort of animosity

- toward Miss Tomkins?
- Not at all.

Those girls are thick as --
well, thieves.

Uh, Detective?

I've found something.

Pardon me a moment,
Miss Weatherly.

I've searched through
Miss Tomkins' personal effects.

This was with the dress
she wore last night.

C.M.E.
Not the victim's initials.

So I noticed.

And, while pondering this fact,
I gazed out this window.

Like so. Which led to a
discovery even more compelling.

Watts?

With me, Detective.

There!

You spotted these
footprints

from Miss Tomkins' window?

I did.

Keen eyesight.

Sharp as an eagle.

The left print
has a distinctive mark.

Perhaps a hole
in the heel of shoe?

Prints lead right up
to Madeline Tomkins' window.

Do you think a Peeping Tom

was inspired to expand
his criminal repertoire?

- Arthur!
- Hello, darling.

This is the most punishing
mattress I've ever lain upon.

It's a gurney. Not a bed.

I say it is what we make of it.

A dead woman lies beneath
that blanket.

Have some respect for my place
of employment or leave.

My flesh erupts in goose bumps
when you scold me.

But respect for employment
is not one of my strong points,

so I will see myself out,
as you wish.

Mm-hmm.

But not before extending
a most optimistic invitation

to my home this evening,
where the mattresses are plush

and thick and upholstered
in the finest silk.

I have no idea of its origins.

Unless...

Oh, dear.

Madeline could have
pickpocketed it on the ship

coming from London.

The maker's mark indicates
a Toronto jeweler.

Well, someone on the train?

Maddie were no pickpocket.

And you're certain of this?

She never had the knack for it.

Oh! Very good.

Just showing the detective
how it's done.

We found a man's footprints
outside of Madeline's window.

Any idea who put them there?

Oh, hell!
We might as well tell him.

It's not like we broke any laws.

What is this about, Sadie?

The girls and I snuck out to
the Tipsy Ferret before curfew.

Sorry, Miss, but with all of us
getting married,

it felt like
our last night of freedom.

My Virtue Girls engaged
in public debauchery.

'Twas nothing compared
to Maddie's private debauchery.

What are you referring to?

She snuck a fellow
from the pub into her room.

It's probable the locket was
payment for services rendered.

Can you describe this man?

- He were handsome.
- He were balding.

He was, uh, taller than me
and shorter than her.

He was skinny,
had a drooping mustache,

and, uh, little beady eyes.

A very handsome man.

You're looking for
Edwin Ebersol.

Mr. Ebersol pawns his wife's
jewelry to buy drink?

And as much as I have sympathy
for the long-suffering

Cathleen Marie, a tab's a tab.

Well, any idea where I
could find this Mr. Ebersol?

He ricochets between
the pawnshop and the pub.

Edwin!

This detective would like
to talk to you.

What can I tell you?

The wench was utterly captivated
by me.

Madeline Tomkins was captivated.

- By you.
- She was all over me!

But I rigorously rebuffed
her advances.

I'm a married man, after all.

Ah, yes.
And your wife's name is?

She needn't be involved in this.

Cathleen Marie Ebersol,
by chance?

Her locket was found amongst
the deceased's possessions.

That wench must have lifted it
from my pocket!

Is that why you killed her?

I did no such thing!

Convince me otherwise,
Mr. Ebersol.

How am I supposed to do that?

I --

I-I have made many,
many mistakes in my life.

But murder is not one of them.

How's that?

Violet Hart, I'm normally
a man of endless wit.

I'm rendered mute.

Trust me, it's not your wit
I fancy, Arthur.

- We're being watched.
- Let them stare.

I'm going to be late for work.

Which do you love more, Violet?
Work or me?

I'm handsomer and I've got
a much bigger --

Good day, Mr. Carmichael!

...bank account.

When did this happen?

Must have been last night.

- Jack, you should go home.
- But I --

Go home.
I'll deal with this.

Uh, did any of you see
who did this?

Didn't.

But it's a shame
it should happen

to such a fine,
upstanding businessman.

Detective Lewellyn Watts.

Is this by chance your work?

Not work, really.

More of a calling, I'd say.

You painted the slander
on the window?

Slander?

Where?

Well, would you look at that!

The butcher's a fairy!

I'm just doing my part to help,
Detective.

We can't let degenerates
overrun this city.

Mm-hmm. What's your name?

Marcus Hinkie.
Just a law-abiding -- Hey!

Marcus Hinkie, I'm placing you
under arrest for vandalism.

Oh, come on, now.

- He ain't done nothing wrong.
- MAN #Public service.

The Ministry is grateful
for your diligence

in investigating
this heinous crime,

but I've got girls to marry off,

suitors awaiting, and a train
to catch this evening.

- I'm well aware.
- Thank you.

As you can imagine,
we are eager to get on our way.

These women deserve a chance
to start anew.

Do they?

I'm not convinced of that.

A thief, a drunkard,
and a violent anarchist

are sent to my country
instead of going to jail

and you want me to welcome them?

Inspector Brackenreid,

I do not ask
that you assist in God's work.

I merely ask you not hinder it.

Who am I to stand in the way
of the Almighty, Miss Weatherly?

Well, then, good day, Inspector.

Good day.

So, who's the lout taking space
up in my jail?

A Mr. Edwin Ebersol, sir.

His wife's locket was found
amongst the victim's possessions

and her companions saw a man
bearing Ebersol's description

in her room that night.

He climbed through the window
is the theory, right?

Yes, but the footprints
outside the building don't match

Ebersol's shoes.

A man can own more than
one pair of shoes, Murdoch.

What's the motive?

- That is yet --
You!

What do you think
you're doing?

I will kill you!

I will snap your neck,
you bastard!

Have we met?

Madeline Tomkins was my fiancée.

Madeline Tomkins was a whore.

This way.

Escort Mr. Crawford
to the cells.

No, wait -- wait!

Let me see your shoe.

The hole in the heel
of your left shoe

matches footprints found outside
Ms. Tomkins' window.

What of it?

I did peer through her window,
but not with lewd intent.

I'd waited so long
for her arrival.

I just wanted to get
a look at her.

Perhaps you did get
a look at her.

And you saw her in bed
with the man that you attacked.

I do wish that you would
not speak of that.

You threatened to kill
Mr. Ebersol.

I threatened him. Yes.

And any sane man
would understand why.

Madeline Tomkins did not
deserve what he dealt her.

She came here to start
a new life --

a life with me.

And he ended it.

He should be dead
and not Madeline.

Do you not want me here?

Sorry, I just feel like
everyone is watching me.

Well, I've got news
that should ease your mind.

I've arrested the vandal.

You did what?

He even confessed.

Rather proudly, I might add.

What -- what did you...?

Charge him with?

Well, destruction of property
and --

No, no, no. I mean, I --

I just wanted
to make this go away.

I didn't want an arrest
or a trial or --

- Justice to be served?
- It won't be justice!

It'll be every bigot in the city
gossiping

about the fairy butcher.

- It will kill my business.
- But --

- It will ruin me.
- Please --

And how long do you think
you'll last at the Constabulary

when the rumors start flying
about the "sodomite cop"?

Jack.

That's what they call us,
you know.

You saw it.

Splashed across my shop
in blood-red letters.

I'm sorry.

I just wanted to make this
go away.

I can fix this.

- I wish you could.
- I can.

- I'll get the charges dropped.
- And then what?

What do you mean?

How will you fix...

this.

This will always be
against the laws

that you've vowed to enforce.

Maybe not...

always.

There's no way in the world
that this will end happily.

So we should at least
end it quickly.

No! Jack.

Ah... You're right.

I-I should not have
arrested that man.

It was rash and ill-considered
and I will never again --

Lewellyn!

This is too dangerous --
for both of us.

I'm sorry, but it's over.

So, which one of the two
of them did it?

We can't hold them both.
Thank you.

Fortunately, we won't have to.

I've ascertained the whereabouts
of both of our suspects

on the morning of the murder.

Go ahead.

Axel Crawford arrived on
the 7:00 AM train from Ottawa.

A carriage then dropped him
at Virtue's Ministry at 7:25,

where he proceeded
to shuffle about,

mumbling and peering
into windows.

So, Mr. Crawford has an alibi.

By the time he arrived
in Toronto,

Miss Tomkins was already dead.

- And Ebersol?
- That's a different story.

Edwin Ebersol was released
from the confines

of Station House Number Five's
drunk tank late this morning,

where he was being held
since his arrest

for public intoxication at...

2:15 am.

Unfortunately, no one can
confirm his whereabouts

in the hours
preceding the arrest.

Which was when
Madeline Tomkins was murdered.

Well, so that settles it, then.

Case closed.

Time of death solves it.

It seems my time of death
estimate

was off by several hours.

Several hours?

Yes.
It seems the cold water

from the bath affected
her body temperature,

which threw off
my initial estimate.

You also initially misread

Miss Tomkins' death
as a suicide.

As did you, Detective.

Hm.

We both know that new evidence

often corrects
initial assumptions.

So, what new evidence
have you uncovered?

Stomach contents revealed she
was dead about an hour and half

before the body was found.

So, around 6:30 in the morning.

While Mr. Ebersol
was in our cells

and Axel Crawford
was on the train.

So neither of them could have
killed Madeline Tomkins.

Which means one of the
Virtue Girls must have done it.

But I don't understand.

You have two suspects
in custody, do you not?

We had two suspects.

New evidence
has cleared them both.

Is everything alright,
Miss Weatherly?

Ah, my heart aches at
the thought of Miss Tomkins

debasing herself
with that vile man.

I won't debate your assessment

of Mr. Ebersol's character,

but suffice it to say
that his alibi

does absolve him of murder.

And Mr. Crawford?

He, too, has an alibi.

I have faith that you will
eventually solve this case,

Detective Murdoch,
but we really must be going.

You have a train to catch.

- I understand.
- Yes.

Right. Thank you.

And in order to accommodate
your tight schedule,

I have summoned your wards
to the Station House

- for questioning, immediately.
- But, Detective, we --

Your Virtue Girls will answer
any and all questions

we have regarding the death
of Madeline Tomkins.

Violet, dear, you're not
really cross with me, are you?

That kiss outside the morgue?

Was that for me, or for
the people who stood gawking?

I was under the impression
that you enjoyed my affection.

Yes, but I do not enjoy
being exploited

for your campaign
to outrage the world.

Now, Violet, you love to shock
the hypocrites as much as I do.

And I worship your brilliance,

your beauty, and your ability
to strike fear

in the hearts of the old money
snobs whom I loathe.

I'll be equally honest.

You are a fool who indulges
in my vanity,

sates my desires, and finances
my love for luxury goods.

To us!

I have an idea.

I want to host a party

to properly present you
to my peers.

Meaning the old money snobs
whom you loathe?

Exactly.

I'm envisioning a theme,
something like,

-"The Dark Continent."
- No.

- But --
- The answer is no.

No "Dark Continent."

No theme.

I will, however,
be your guest of honor

at an elegant,
intimate dinner party

where I promise to strike terror
in the hearts of

those old money snobs
which you loathe.

I adore you.

I will need a new dress.

Charge it to my account.

- Thank you for coming.
- Of course.

How can I be of assistance?

We're pressed for time,
and I'm hoping your insight

can help me interpret
their responses.

Interpret how?

Perhaps you can sense if
one of them is hiding something?

I'll do my best.

Thank you.

How would you describe
Madeline Tomkins?

Lively. Beautiful.

She was a cooch dancer
at the old "burly q."

A cooch dancer?

You know?

Burlesque.

Burlesque.

Maddie was the most
glamorous tart I'd ever known.

She could hold her liquor
almost as well as me.

But you told me you'd been
banned from every pub in London.

So I'd have to be daft to
murder me best drinking buddy.

Exactly.

Maddie was smart, open-minded.

Independent.

Not the sort of woman
I'd like to murder.

And what sort of woman
would you like to murder?

I spoke imprecisely.

There are no women
I'd like to murder.

What, exactly, were you doing
that morning

up until the moment that
Madeline's body was discovered?

Well, I don't normally lift me
head from the pillow

until I'm forced.

I'd barely gotten dressed before
I heard all the squawkin'.

I were working on me manifesto.

Chapter 82, "The Grandiose
Self-Regard of Men."

I have it memorized.
Would you like me to recite it?

Yes!
- No.

No.

What were you doing, exactly,
that morning right up

until the moment that
Madeline's body was discovered?

Well, uh, let's see...

I had to go to the loo,
but it was locked.

So I knocked and I knocked
and I got no answer,

so I paced up and down
the 'allway

struggling to hold me water.

Pardon me, sir.
Just being honest.

So, what's the verdict?

Are the Virtue Girls
petty offenders,

or bloodthirsty killers?

Sir, we've yet to determine
motive for this murder.

I agree. I saw no malice toward
Madeline from any of them.

I will remind you
they are criminals.

They know how to lie.

What I witnessed looked like
sincere grief

for their lost friend.

Or remorse for having
killed her?

All I know is that
you have three women

and six hours to coax the truth
out before the train arrives.

If you think they're lying,

why don't you drag out
the old honesty box?

The Autonomic Response
Indicator.

The Truthizer.

Sir, it's not infallible.

A sophisticated liar
could fool the machine.

It wouldn't hurt to try,
would it?

I say dust the cobwebs
off that gadget

and strap the girls in
for questioning.

- But, sir --
- Hark!

Is that a train I hear?

The Truthizer may be able
to pick up

something that we missed.

Detective Watts.

How nice to see you.

- Yes, of course.
- Ah, Watts!

Quick work on nabbing
that vandal.

At least one of my detectives
is earning his pay.

Ah, yes.

Uh, about that.

I know this is unusual,

but I must implore you
to drop the charges.

Drop the charges?

I don't get you, Watts.

I thought Jack Walker
was your friend?

He is.

And my friend wishes
to avoid a public trial.

Oh, I see.
Are you sure about this?

- Yes.
- Very well, then.

I'll release the man.

Perhaps it's for the best.

Are you ready to begin?

Ask your questions.

Did you kill Madeline Tomkins?

Hand to God, sir...

Hand to God, sir.

I did not.

I could never harm a hair
on Maddie's head.

We've discussed this.
The answer's still no.

Who killed Madeline Tomkins?

I haven't the foggiest notion,
Detective.

I don't know.

I'd tell you if I did.

None of us knows
who killed Maddie.

The Truthizer has exonerated
every one of them.

But a few hours earlier,
you claimed

that that box of bolts
was faulty at best.

Well, it's faulty at worst.

But I have no reason to believe
the results are inaccurate.

There is one woman
you haven't spoken to.

- Miss Weatherly?
- Yes.

Has she been ruled out?

Detective Watts
witnessed her arrival

at the Ministry that morning.

She had come
from the Empire hotel.

Before you say anything,

I got the charges against
Marcus Hinkie dropped,

- as you requested.
- Thank you.

Unfortunately,
now is not a good time.

Please, Jack, just talk to me.

Jack, who's that?

Invite your friend in.

The more the merrier!

Ah, what's the occasion?

Engagement party!

I'm going to make
an honest man of Jack.

An honest man, huh?

Lewellyn, I'm sorry
but this is, uh...

Don't dawdle in the doorway.

Come in and have a drink!

Oh, yes, join us.

Thank you, Miss,
but I'm here on police business.

I would never intrude
on your joy.

Everything okay?

Jack,
what was that about?

Cheers.

Elegant accommodations for
a humble "matron of virtue."

While her wards stay
in the dreary confines

of that ministry.

Why would a charity
spend money on such luxury?

Virtue's Ministry grows more
and more suspicious by the hour.

Hm. Pardon me, sir.

- A word.
- Yes, Sir?

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

We're looking for
one of your guests,

a Constance Weatherly.

She's employed by a charity.

Virtue's Ministry?

Ah, yes, Miss Weatherly.

Our lady of
insufferable sanctimony.

I gather you're not fond of her?

The woman's satchel
is as heavy as a coffin.

And her notions of charity
apparently do not extend

to those who carry
her breakfasts

up four flights of stairs

to that dreadful penthouse
every morning.

She doesn't tip you?

Oh, she tipped me.

"Here's a tip," she says.

"
but be of good cheer;

I have overcome the world.'"

That's John 16:33.

She tips with a bible passage?

A veritable font of scriptural
witticisms, our Miss Weatherly.

One must admire the audacity.

Do you know where
we could find her?

Sorry to disappoint,
but Miss Weatherly hasn't been

around since yesterday.

Yesterday?

She ate her breakfast
before dawn.

Left at 5:30 AM on the dot.

Excuse me.

If she left at 5:30 AM,
then she has no alibi.

And if she has no alibi...

Miss Weatherly
could be our killer.

Did you return to your chambers
at the Empire Hotel

after the murder?

No.

Why not?

I prefer to be near the girls
during this traumatic time,

to lend counsel and comfort.

The porter saw you leave the
hotel that morning

at 5:30 AM, correct?

No, he certainly did not.

What time did you leave
the hotel

on the morning
of Miss Tomkins' murder?

I came to the Ministry
straight away after breakfast.

Care to amend your answer,
Miss Weatherly?

Why would I do that?

Because you're lying.

Is it your intention to arrest
me for lying about breakfast?

Your Detective Watts saw me
arrive at the Ministry at 8:00.

This is a complete
waste of time.

I was in charge of
Madeline's welfare.

Why would I kill her?

I don't know.

Why did you kill Miss Tomkins?

I didn't!

See?

Your own device proclaims
my innocence.

You have your answers.

How many times must I repeat
them before you release me?

I can't hold these women
any longer

unless you show me something
that changes my mind.

According to the Truthizer,

Miss Weatherly
did not kill Madeline Tomkins.

And, yet, inexplicably
she's lying about what time

she had breakfast.

I know I'm missing something.

I'm sorry, Murdoch.

I'll have to release them.

I assure you Mr. Carmichael's
account will cover it.

Telephone him if you doubt me.

Excuse me!

All that fuss about
dropping the charges.

You got what you wanted and
you're still skulking around

- with your face --
- No, I didn't get what I wanted.

I'm sorry.

I received news
of an engagement.

And who are the happy couple?

A Miss Clara Cartwright
and a Mr. Jack Walker.

Oh.

Do you know what
exasperates me most

about this engagement?

I'm not inclined to speculate.

That poor woman will be stuck
in a sham marriage

to a man who is too
frightened to live honestly.

Who are we to judge?

People get married
for all sorts of reasons.

I have to warn Miss Cartwright.

About what, Watts?

Maybe this is what
Jack Walker needs to do.

And maybe you should
follow his example

and find yourself
a nice young lady.

Well, I, for one, am not
prepared to live a lie.

Nor should he.

Don't do anything stupid, Watts.

It's unfortunate that
you wasted such time

and effort harassing my wards.

And, yet, instead of
seeking the killer,

you're still here,
lurking beside me.

I suppose I'll receive
no apology for this indignity

and inconvenience
you have served upon me?

In the world,

but be of good cheer;
for I have overcome the world.

Overcome the world, have you?

Bully for you, Detective.

Not all of us are blessed
with your arrogance.

Goodbye, Detective.

Stop.

You can't be serious?

Is there a problem?

This woman is not
Constance Weatherly.

She isn't?

That's why she hid
her face from Mr. Ebersol

in the station house.

She ate her breakfast
before dawn.

Left at 5:30 AM on the dot.

That's why she never
returned to the hotel.

None of us knows
who killed Maddie.

I'd tell you if I did.

Hand to God, sir.
I did not.

And that's why
the Virtue Girls were able

to truthfully
deny killing Madeline Tomkins.

Because Madeline Tomkins
isn't dead.

Constance Weatherly is.

And the Virtue Girls killed her.

Nonsense!

Who are you?

Hm?

Are you Constance Weatherly,
a devout Christian missionary?

Or are you Madeline Tomkins,

a prostitute from
the streets of London?

Perhaps another round with
the Truthizer is in order, hm?

I am indeed a working girl
from the streets of London.

But I'm not just that.

I'm an artist.

I'm an actress.

Ah, yes.

You inhabited the role
of the woman

you murdered quite convincingly.

Thank you.

You're welcome...

Madeline.

Tell me what happened
the morning that

Constance Weatherly
was murdered.

Miss Weatherly shows up,
as usual,

cracking the whip
at the crack of dawn.

"Get up, you lazy raggabrash.

Your husband is on his way.

Wash your sinful flesh
and make yourself presentable."

And then?

Oh, I says to her,
"I'm not marrying anyone.

You can't force me."

And my girls gather round
and they say,

"We ain't marrying, either!"

Constance tries to yank me
out of my room.

So Kate threw a stocking
'round her neck.

Sadie kicked her knees
out from under.

And Flannery? Oh!

The woman is a mastermind --
I kid you not.

Flannery says, once Constance
stops moving, she says,

"Maddie, switch places
with Constance.

Make it look like
you offed yourself."

It's quite the show we put on,
yeah?

We figure if we could just
get out of Toronto

we'd be free to start
new lives in Canada --

wouldn't have to marry.

Well, you are correct
about that.

None of you will have to marry.

But you are all under arrest

for the murder
of Constance Weatherly.

You are by far the most
beautiful woman in this room.

And you are by far
the luckiest man.

And these are by far
the most miserable party guests

I've ever encountered.

They despise us, don't they?

They do.

Isn't it delicious?

I think we can safely say
the party's a smash.

I can smell so many
tiny, little minds

short-circuiting all around us.

I think you overestimate
your talent for scandal,

my dear Arthur.

Do you think you can do better?

I do.

Can I have everyone's attention!

Arthur and I are very grateful
you can join us

for this momentous occasion.

For this is no random soiree
you're attending.

It's our engagement party!

It is with great pleasure

I introduce my bride-to-be,

Miss Violet Hart.