All language subtitles for the.pinkertons.s01e21.dvdrip.x264-ghouls.eng

I was born in a gutter

called the Gorbals.

(Glasses clinking)
That's in Scotland.

In case you didn't know.

In fact, I did know.
Oh.

Not a lot of people do.

It has a certain reputation
for lawlessness,

which is where I acquired
my interest

in the underbelly
of society.

Surely that's not why you're
interested in me, Mr. Pinkerton?

(Laughing)

Mrs. Greenhow.

Please, you may
call me Rose.

Rose.

Rose.

You're full of surprises,
Mr. Pinkerton.

(Laughing)

Not at all the man
I expected.

What did you expect?

I'd heard the man who protected
Lincoln was dour,

pigheaded...
(Laughing)

...and blindly devoted
to his wife.

And now you think
otherwise of me?

Let us see.

(Moaning)

And now I think...

...Otherwise of you.

According to my mother,

the great detective easily
succumbed to her persuasions.

It would only be
a matter of days

before she was liberated
from the house arrest

that Allan Pinkerton
had imposed upon her

for more than a year.

She soon returned
to her beloved Confederacy.

There are many who cheer
the legacy of my late mother.

They say Rose Greenhow
is a heroine to the Confederacy.

Not I. I saw only
a devious woman

who used her many charms
to move in elite circles.

She hobnobbed with generals,

senators and presidents.

She used her connections

to pass along
key military information

to the Confederacy
at the start of the war.

Betrayal,
treachery and deceit

are my mother's
best traits.

And that is why
I am writing this book.

To show the world
the truth

behind the legacy
that is my mother,

Rose Greenhow.

(Applause)

And to make her publisher
a wealthy man.

You could be wealthier
if you co-publish with me.

I could ensure
wider distribution.

Leila Greenhow
is no better than her mother,

sullying your father's
reputation for her own gains.

If word of this encounter
gets back to my mother...?

The story is fiction.

How would you know that?

I think I know your father.

Let's hope.

I'm prepared to offer $1,000
in advance to co-publish.

You haven't even read
the manuscript.

I don't need to.
I've heard enough tonight.

LEILA:
Thank you so much for coming.

Thank you. It means a lot.
Hi, how are you?

Your support
means everything.

I need all the help
I can get...

WILL:
He died with his boots on,
Sheriff.

I should have known
you two would turn up.

No sooner a body drops
in Kansas City

and here come
the Pinkertons.

Well, as a matter of fact,
Leila Greenhow hired us

to look into the death
of her publisher, Milton Kroft.

You're working for the woman

who wants to publish trash
about your father?

My sentiments exactly.

Will agreed to take the case,
not me.

Yes, there's a dead man here,

and I'd like to get
to the bottom of this story.

Which one?
Kroft's murder,

or Leila Greenhow's salacious
fiction about your father?

Whichever comes first.

The point is, is that I think
someone clearly didn't want

her book to be published.

What was that trifle
about her mother?

What was her name?
Rose Greenhow.

Waste of paper.

A dead footnote in history,
if you ask me.

Actually, Rose was
an accomplished spy.

Who caused immeasurable damage
to the Union war effort.

All the more reason
to forget about her.

No. Confederates hailed her
as a war hero.

KATE:
Well, maybe they disagree

with what her daughter is saying
about her in the book.

She was well connected,
and unfortunately loved by many.

Including your father,
I hear.

KATE:
Apparently Allan's
so-called adventures with Rose

are becoming busy rumour.

WILL:
Let's take a look, shall we?

See what you missed.

Well, he was shot
in the back.

Small calibre,
probably a .24.

(Sighing)
No sign of a struggle,

so he snuck up
from behind him.

Shot to the heart.
All business.

I'll leave you two to it.

Too small, by the way.
What?

The boots.
They'd never fit you.

They are nice boots,
though.

They won't fit you, either.

(Telegraph clicking)

What are you telegraphing,
the Declaration of Independence?

I'm wiring Chicago
to convey to your father

what was said about him
last night,

and also to inform him
of the murder of Milton Kroft.

It's a telegram, Kate.
Skip the details.

Leila's going to be here
any minute.

Well, then make her
some tea.

You do know how to do that,
don't you?

Yeah, you boil water.

Oh!
(Objects crashing)

(Knocking at door)
(Sighing)

WILL:
Hello, Leila. Please come in.

LEILA:
I confess.

I feel responsible
for poor Mr. Kroft's demise.

We would have never met
if it weren't for my book.

He knew full well
what he was getting into.

Your mother's life
was controversial at best.

True enough.

And I can't help but wonder
if I'm the next target.

Have you considered

cancelling your book's
publication?

It would certainly
ease your fears.

And let them win? No.

Never. I've kept quiet
for much too long.

I'm not stopping
'til this story comes out.

You're just like my father.

You never give up.
Can't say I blame you, though.

I appreciate
your understanding.

I get precious little of it
from other corners.

It's hell growing up under the
shadow of a headstrong parent.

I mean, the moment
they find out

that Allan Pinkerton's
my father,

they look right through me,
like I wasn't even there.

(Chuckling)

Miss Leila,

you know my associate here,
Mrs. Kate Warne.

Miss Greenhow,
why don't we start

with what you know
about Milton Kroft.

Does he have any enemies?

Anyone he's had problems with
as of late?

On the contrary.

Mr. Kroft was a kind
and gentle man.

Well liked by everyone.

His only sin, it appears,
was to champion my book.

I can think of a few people
that might be angry

with what's in your biography.

A woman stormed out of your
reading the other night.

Oh, that would be Florence.
She's my sister.

There was a man with her.
He left as well.

That would be Seymour,
her husband.

They do as they please.
Manners be damned.

Is it possible that they took
issue with your story?

No. Florence supports
my literary ambitions

in every respect.

We'll need to speak with her
directly about that.

If you doubt my word,
please do.

(Knocking at door)

(Door closing)

Miss Greenhow.

Good to meet you.

Your book reading
was very informative.

This is our associate,
Kenji Harada.

Oh, I have to speak
with you.

Oh, well, we were just
finishing up, Kenji.

Thank you.

Miss Leila, may I escort you
back to the hotel?

LEILA:
A pleasure to meet you.

At the book reading,

I saw the man who was murdered
arguing with another publisher.

His name is Byron Thomas.

A rival of Milton Kroft's,
perhaps.

Track his movements.
See what else you can find.

Okay.

(Door opening and closing)

(Horse whinnying)

FLORENCE:
Leila is my little sister.

Seymour and I took her in after
Mother's imprisonment in 1862.

Raised her like
our own daughter.

I have no issue
with her.

Well, then why did you walk out
of her reading?

If you must know, I was overcome
by a bout of the vapours.

You seemed
plain old angry to me.

I fail to see why I need to
justify my actions to you, sir.

Do you agree
with Leila's portrait

of your mother
as a devious woman?

Do you agree
with her depiction

of your father
as a lustful fool?

Well, the older I get,
it seems the less I know

about my father
and what he's capable of.

Yes, well, I see nothing wrong
with the truth coming out.

But my poor, dear sister
is nowhere near that truth.

What do you mean?

I know what really happened
that night

between my mother
and your father

in her Washington parlour.

ALLAN:
You think you're untouchable,
don't you, Mrs. Greenhow?

You think your powerful friends
will keep you

from the long arm
of the law.

I know you've been
trailing me

for several months now
with operatives.

I've even seen you
lurking outside my window.

And yet what have you found,
Mr. Pinkerton? Nothing.

We know that you have supplied
key intelligence

to the Confederate army,

which has led to the Union
defeat at Bull Run.

I had nothing to do
with that.

That was simply Union
military incompetence.

And that you have operated
with impunity

from this very house
in Washington, D.C.,

supplying information
to General Beauregard.

You have no proof.

I have no proof?

I have no proof.

(Chuckling)

But I intend
to get a confession from you...

Mrs. Greenhow.

Every name, every person,

every place,
every rendezvous

you have made since you came
to this town.

And denounce
all I believe in?

What is it that you believe in,
Mrs. Greenhow,

apart from your ability
to manipulate people?

I will not betray my cause

or the people who support it,
Mr. Pinkerton.

Then you will hang
in the public square

for everyone to see.

Then I'll die a hero.

Like a traitor.

And your beautiful
little daughters,

what will become of those poor,
wee, starving creatures?

You wouldn't dare.

Abandoned in the street.

Do you think they'll think
you're a hero?

What kind of monster
are you?

You don't know what I am!

If your daughters
are anything like you,

it won't be very long

before they're
in the brothel.

(Sobbing)
(Allan laughing)

That is an very different story
from Leila's.

It's what my mother
told me in confidence.

Honest to God.

And you believed her?
Why wouldn't I?

Maybe she was just telling you
what you wanted to hear.

I'm older than Leila.

Mother knew I was mature enough
to learn what actually happened,

no matter how ugly it was.

Your father
was a monster.

You have to accept that.

Byron Thomas sent a telegram
to Washington, D.C.

Washington?

Most publishing houses
are in New York City.

Should I go back
to the telegraph office?

Perhaps find out
what he wrote?

No. It's too risky.

We have to keep this
aboveboard.

Byron Thomas?
Publisher, correct?

And you are?
Kate Warne.

Pinkerton National
Detective Agency.

A lady Pinkerton.

I bet you have some stories.

Let me buy you a drink.

So, what are you doing
in Kansas City

at a rival publisher's
book event,

where said publisher
winds up dead?

You get straight to the point,
don't you?

Always.

Hmm.

I confess. I was interested
in the book.

Who wouldn't be?
It's a surefire success.

Milton Kroft beat me to it.
Lucky dog.

Not so lucky.

Yes, well...

What are you doing
in Kansas City?

I came to gauge
the public's reaction

in a city divided
by north/south sympathies.

Or perhaps to see if Leila
was still happy with Kroft?

Maybe you could
sweeten the pot,

get her to jump ship,
come over to you?

Something like that.

Well, now that road's completely
clear for negotiation.

Tread lightly
if you're suggesting.

Oh, I'm not suggesting.

I'm not a murderer,
Mrs. Warne.

If I were you,
I would talk with Seymour,

Miss Leila's
sister's husband.

Now that's a man
with motive.

How so?
A very generous deal

is about to land
in Seymour's lap.

A reconstruction contract for
a bridge here in Kansas City.

But if details got out
about his association

with Rose Greenhow,

his whole business venture
could collapse.

He'd lose a fortune.

SEYMOUR:
Yes, of course the book
could damage my business.

Any fool can tell you that.

I am a banker.
Reputation is everything.

Did you ever try
to stop Leila

from publishing her book?

You ever try to stop Leila
of anything?

She's a wilful girl.

Uncontrollable,
as far as I am concerned.

Now, let me to be blunt.

Yes, I have a lot to be gained
from this construction contract,

but my bid is solid.

Book, no book.

But you don't much care
for Leila.

She's my sister-in-law,

and I look after her.

Yes, foisted upon you
by a determined patriot

of a mother on the wrong side
of the war.

It must be very
frustrating.

It is accurate to say
that Leila is rebellious

and a source of constant discord
in my home.

Look, the sooner that she
garners success from that book

and is out of my house,
the better it is for everyone.

(Gasping)

No, I didn't see who it was.

Can I get you some ice
for your head?

I'm fine.

The bleeding's stopped.

But who would do this?

Your attacker
was more than likely

searching for your
manuscript.

Which is where,
by the way?

Safely hidden.

At least I hope
it still is.

Underneath the rug.

Here it is.

Leila, you're not safe as long
as you keep that manuscript.

I'm not letting it
out of my sight.

Just for a little while.

We're the Pinkertons.
We'll keep it safe.

And you.

It's not just a book.
It's my story.

I know.

Protect it.

I will.

KATE:
The real question is,

who wants that manuscript
badly enough to do this?

Someone who didn't want
to see it published.

You can't honestly believe
I'd attack my own sister.

Perhaps you were in Leila's room
searching for her manuscript.

She walked in,
you got scared, panicked.

Hit her?

I would never cause
my sister any harm.

Where were you last night?

At the Buffalo Head Hotel
the entire evening.

Seymour and I were having dinner
with our friends, the Weavers.

I'll have to confirm that
with them.

What about the night that Milton
Kroft was shot and killed?

We were in our hotel room.

Just you and your husband?

Yes.

So no third party
to vouch for you.

We were unaware that we'd need
to be vouched for.

BYRON:
Don't you look wonderful
this fine morning.

LEILA:
You're too kind.

BYRON:
Thank you so much for agreeing
to see me, Miss Greenhow.

LEILA:
Your note spoke of some urgency,
Mr. Thomas.

BYRON:
Indeed.

I attended your reading
the other night.

And I was transfixed
by your account

of your mother's
exploits.

And may I compliment you
on your authorship.

Your style
is most eloquent.

I'm flattered,
of course, sir,

but do wish you'd state
your purpose.

I run a new publishing house
in New York City.

I've contacted
my colleagues there,

and we agree that the story
of Rose Greenhow must be told.

The death of Milton Kroft
should not be in vain.

You want the publishing rights
to my book.

I do.

And I'd be willing to pay
handsomely for those rights.

It would be an honour.

My desire to publish
is wavering, sir,

in light of Milton's death.

I'm concerned
for the safety

of those associated
with my book.

Hmm.

There's a saying in my business,
Miss Greenhow.

"Publish or be damned."

The enemies of your book
are no match for the truth.

Are there risks? Yes.

But stouter hearts
must prevail.

We are talking about
an accurate telling of history.

I need time
to reflect on that.

Of course.

But I am here now

with a very generous offer
on the table.

Two thousand dollars
for the rights,

plus 20% of all profits.

Mr. Thomas, I will consider
your offer.

One could ask for no more.

I will take my leave
of you, then.

Don't you have
anything better to do?

I let you both down.

Actually, I don't think
you did.

And why is this?

It's intriguing,
isn't it?

That Byron was even aware
he was being followed?

Meaning?

He's a publisher.
An ordinary citizen.

Ordinary citizens
don't normally check

to see if they're under
surveillance.

So Mr. Thomas had a reason
to check over his shoulder.

KATE:
Exactly.

I want to know
what that reason is.

Let's go.

And you guard this
while we're gone.

It's been nothing
but trouble.

KATE:
More than that.

Read it.
We haven't had a chance yet.

Look for anything that stands
out as a motive for murder.

Of course.
I'll do my best.

You know, whoever killed
Milton Kroft

and attacked Leila
for the manuscript

isn't going to stop,
right?

They'll be back.

Whoa.

Looks like our search
has ended.

I'll be dammed.

(No audio)

(Will sighing)

WILL:
What the hell is going on?

I sent you a telegram
yesterday.

You didn't respond.

I am here, am I not?

In response
to my telegram?

Yes, of course.

What time did you get in?

Got here on the 12:15.

And what were you doing
meeting with Byron Thomas?

Byron Thomas, the publisher?
What of him?

So you do know him.

Yes. He approached
to write my memoirs.

When?

That was two years ago.

Why were you
meeting with him now?

What is this,
an interrogation?

Are you aware that Thomas
is a suspect

in the murder of
Milton Kroft?

Milton Kroft,
the publisher?

Mm-hmm.
No, I was not.

And what have you got
on Byron Thomas?

He was a rival
of Kroft's.

Wanted to publish
Leila Greenhow's book.

Well, that isn't much,
if you don't mind me saying.

Uh, you've got...

Well, you've got motive
and no evidence.

Going to have to cast your net
a wee bit wider.

So you do know that
Leila Greenhow is in town,

and everything she's been saying
about you?

Yes, I have heard.

And it doesn't
concern you?

No. It's utter horse manure.

Why should it concern me?

People have written
about me before.

They will again.

I pay no attention to it.

Why should you?

Now, haven't you got a murder
to solve?

Well, why don't you
get on with it

instead of listening
to malicious gossip.

And keep me apprised,
will you?

Hmm.

They're coming after me now,
for God's sake.

The Pinkertons think I
attacked you and killed Milton.

I told them you would never
do such a thing.

And I didn't.

You know me.

I thought I did.
Now I'm not so sure.

What do you mean by that?

When you started this book,

I said it would be nothing
but trouble.

Now look where we are.
All I did was tell the truth.

Your version of it.
Mother's version of it.

You'd tell any version

if it garnered
the attention you crave.

How could you put
our family's reputation at risk?

What reputation?

Mother's already
taken care of that.

(Gasping)

Oh!

You ungrateful child.

After all Seymour and I
have done for you.

All you care about
is what Seymour thinks.

(Knocking at door)
BOTH: Who is it?!

ALLAN:
It's Allan Pinkerton. Open up.

He's hiding something.

That's what
your father does.

But hiding something
from us?

We've seen this before.

The secrecy.
The deception.

He always brings us
into his confidence in the end.

You maybe. Me, he's kept
in the dark for years.

Probably for your own
protection.

Right.

Don't you think it's weird
that he met with Byron

before contacting us?

It could have been
a chance meeting.

In my experience, my father does
nothing by chance.

Don't overestimate your father's
way of doing things.

He's hiding information,
breaking protocol.

I'm telling you,
there's something else going on.

He just won't tell us.

He won't.

But maybe Byron will.

Yes, your father and I discussed
publishing his memoirs.

I couldn't believe my luck.
The great detective himself

approaching me on the streets
of Kansas City.

So that was the first time you
discussed publishing his book?

That's right.

Thank you for your time,
Mr. Thomas.

Clearly one of them is lying
about when they met.

I think I know who.

Don't jump
to conclusions.

The more you paint
your father as the devil,

the more he'll resemble him.

Your father, he threatened me.

He threatened you?

When I hired the Pinkertons,
I thought you would protect me.

What did he say to you?

He said if I don't give him
the manuscript,

my life will be in danger.

From him?

That was my impression.

Does he know that we have
the manuscript?

I didn't want
to tell him.

Good. Keep it that way.

We'll speak with him.

And all I'm saying is,
if you're acting like the devil,

then maybe you are one.

I just want to hear
Allan's side of the story.

You always take his side.

I trust him implicitly.

He's my mentor
and my friend.

And I'm not your friend?

Don't answer that.

(Sighing)

Well, your friend is also
not in his room.

Precisely.
No, no, no. Where are you going?

We'll catch up with him later.
And miss the perfect opportunity

to look around?
Give me your lock pick.

We are not breaking
into Allan's room.

Invading his privacy?

And finding out what the hell
is going on.

Come on, give it to me.
I said no.

Oh!

Will, please don't to this.
It's wrong.

It'd be wrong for me
not to do it.

(Sighing)

Ladies first.

Well, then go ahead.

I'm not going in there.
Suit yourself.

(Sighing)

What are you doing
in there?

(Rummaging)
(Sighing)

Admit it, Will.

Even for you,
this is a desperate move.

After he threatened Leila?
I don't think so.

That is merely her version
of events.

Oh, yeah?

How about this?

.24 calibre.

Like the murder weapon.

Where did you find this?

In here.

It was right here,
underneath his pillow.

The smell of sulphur
around the breach and muzzle.

This gun was fired recently.

To kill Milton Kroft?

ALLAN:
Ah.

I see you found
the murder weapon.

No more beating
around the bush.

What are you really doing
in Kansas City?

Either tell us,

or we'll have to take you in.

(Lock clicking)

LOGAN:
Why do you want him locked up?

To force him
to level with us.

If you think
that's going to work,

you don't know
your father.

Well, maybe not,
but we have to try something.

One man is dead,
and other people are in danger.

You're being framed,
and you could hang for that.

Who the hell
are you protecting?

I have nothing to say,

except that I made a promise
to a man that cannot be broken.

A promise to whom?

Fine. Let him hang.

You don't mean that.

Of course not.

But we got to get him to talk.
I don't know what else to do.

Let me try.

Allan.

You know I'm a man
of my word.

I know that.

And I respect that.

But whatever this is,
you can trust me with it.

I can help you.

It's too late.

There's too much at stake.

When has there been
more at stake

than on that train
through Baltimore?

Allan, you trusted me

with the life
of a president.

Right.

And I would again.

Then what is this about?
You have to tell me.

(Cell door slamming)

I do not have to tell you
anything.

Your are my employee,

and you will do
as you are told.

(Door opening)

(Door closing)

What the hell
happened to you?

Same thing
that happened to you.

Your father.

He didn't talk to you either,
did he?

Nope.

Look, you can't
take it personal.

You do.
Yeah, well, I'm his son.

What does that make me?

His employee.

He's a hard man,
and you know it.

But I'm more
than an employee.

I'm like family.

And he's treating you
the same way he treats us.

Welcome to the family, Kate.

Family.

Who's the one person
that your father values

more than family?

There's only one: Lincoln.

But Lincoln's dead.

Secrets live on.

Secrets were Rose Greenhow's
stock and trade.

And she was the bane
of the Lincoln administration.

And with a daughter
about to reveal the details

of her mother's treachery.

The manuscript.

Kenji.

(Logan sighing)

(Sighing)

Buy you a drink?

No, thanks.

Suit yourself.

You know, it's funny.

My dear mother enjoys a shot
every night before bedtime.

Sometimes two.

Of course,
she says her prayers first.

I don't drink.

According to Leila Greenhow,
you do.

(Laughing)

If one were inclined
to believe such things.

I must say this is...

interesting.

The great Allan Pinkerton
in my jail cell.

I'm glad you find it
entertaining.

Entertaining?

Oh, hell, if these charges
stick and you hang,

I'm going to be a legend.

Not that I want that.

Just where do you think you're
going with this, then, Sheriff?

That secret of yours.

Tell me,
I could help you out.

I'm not without some influence,
you know.

I know that you are a man
of some influence, Sheriff.

(Laughing):
Well...

glad you can see that.

Or should I say

a man under the influence?

I'll get along very well,
thank you,

without your help.

Mr. Pinkerton,
you and I both know

that you can lock a man up,
but rarely his secrets.

Leave it.

They will come out...

sir.

(Chair scraping)

From what I've read,

your father had motive
to kill the publisher.

You mean you didn't
finish it?

No.

Three pages were missing.

Someone removed them?

Who would do this?

Why would I remove
any pages?

I wrote the book.

No one else
had access to it.

Except Milton Kroft,
and he's dead.

I trusted you to safeguard
my manuscript.

And we have,
Miss Greenhow.

It hasn't left our sight
since you gave it to us.

Let me see it.

What was in those pages
that someone wanted to hide?

You have no shame, do you?

Mind your manners, Leila.

And you, Seymour,

caring only for
your business interests.

What did you write about?

Go ahead, Florence.

Or should I?

It concerned a profitable
business arrangement

between Seymour
and the federal government.

Florence, please--
Made possible by my mother,

to secure reconstruction
contracts.

And if it became known
that your husband's business

had been enriched by a notorious
Confederate spy...

It would have ruined
Seymour's reputation.

You childish ingrate!

KATE:
Seymour and Florence Moore,

you are under arrest
for the murder of Milton Kroft.

Let's go.

ALLAN:
You're making a big mistake.

These two have nothing
to do with this.

Listen to this man.

Now, Sheriff,
I urge you to reconsider.

Quite frankly I do not know
who to believe anymore.

FLORENCE:
I'll be sure to convey that
to our lawyer.

LOGAN:
You do that.

Listen, these two are innocent.
Don't ask me how I know.

I just know.

Where's Leila?

The hotel.

She is in grave danger.

You stay here
until I can figure this out.

Give me my gun.

Give me my gun now.

It's on my desk.

She's not here.
She must be upstairs.

Put your guns down.

Kate.
(Sighing)

You know what to do.

My guess is that Byron Thomas
is not a publisher.

No kidding. Everything about him
says operative.

Hairpin!

WILL:
How did we not see this?

He's good.

And dangerous.

(Both grunting)

If this involves Washington,
he's lethal.

My father didn't even
warn us.

Ugh! Here.
Give this to me.

Oh!

Oh, you have got to be
kidding me.

Give me your foot!
Quit pulling! Ow!

Ow!
Ah!

(Patrons chattering
indistinctly)

I need your manuscript,
Miss Greenhow.

If you want to publish it
don't threaten to shoot me.

This is actually about
not publishing it.

It's under lock and key
with the Pinkertons.

You'll need me
to get it.

(Gasping)

ALLAN:
Byron Thomas,

you are under arrest

for the murder
of Milton Kroft.

This isn't over,
Pinkerton.

After all I wrote about you,
you saved my life.

Well, you're an innocent
lass.

You're as much a victim
of your mother's lies

as I was.

Come on.

And here we go.

You're going to bring it up,
aren't you?

Wouldn't you?

Not if I knew
how pointless it was.

(Humming)

Hello, Kate.

(Snapping fingers)
William.

Would you mind explaining

why Milton Kroft
has been murdered?

Because the truth is a threat
to those in power.

That's not an answer.

(Snapping)
Well, it's going to have to do

for now, isn't it?

Listen, the point is

that Milton Kroft's killer
is now in jail.

And that is a good thing.

Is that all you care about?

You look surprised.

Well, I am,
just a little bit.

You broke a trust.

For the sake
of another trust.

But not to me. Not to Kate.

Well, I am very sorry, boy,
but that's life, isn't it?

Archie, bring me my two
boiled eggs and a tea.

Received this
a few minutes ago.

That's life.

Thanks.

This is from
Washington, D.C.

From the War Department!

Where is he?

Train station.

Byron Thomas
has been released.

By the War Department?

(Scoffing)
No, no, no, no.

You said it yourself.
It's pointless.

But the killer is no longer
behind bars.

And my father made it
very clear:

it's his problem,
not ours.

So, what do we do now?

You and I are Pinkertons.

And we'll continue to do
what we've always done.

(Kate sighing)

(Indistinct chattering)

ALLAN:
Don't worry.

I'm not going to slug you.

I'd like to.

Your Gorbals upbringing.

Yeah, I got over that.

Violence doesn't get you
anywhere...

as is clearly illustrated

by your handling
of this case.

We're old warriors, Allan,

fighting on the same side
but working at cross purposes.

I beg to differ.

Lincoln said it himself.

"We are not enemies."

"We must not be enemies.

"Though passion
may have strained,

"it must not break the bonds
of our affection.

"The mystic chords
of memory

"will swell
when again touched,

"as surely they will be,

by the better angels
of our nature."

Yeah, I was a great admirer
of Lincoln.

But he wasn't
always right.

I read that manuscript
last night.

Not one word
about that secret

that you've been protecting
all these years.

Nothing.

You killed
an innocent man.

I wouldn't like to be
in your shoes

when you're getting off that
train in Washington, D.C.

(Train bell clanging)

ALLAN:
You're to go to Hampton Roads,

then from there
on to Richmond.

This pardon comes from
the Secretary of War himself?

Mm-hmm.

You must have him
sorely compromised.

That is what I do.

Yours is a sordid business.

Yours is little better,
Mr. Pinkerton.

Lies, deceit and betrayal
are common to us both.

And your president,

for all his lofty rhetoric
and high-minded ideals,

he had to know about
this arrangement,

had to be willing to lower
himself to the back room deal

that led to my release.

You...

We all have our dark sides...

Rose.

Some of us just rise above it.

(Train bell clanging)
(Train chugging)

NARRATOR:
Next week, on The Pinkertons...

A Pinkerton agent killed in
Kansas City in broad daylight?

Five bushwhackers broke out
of state prison,

including a kid
named Jesse James.

I've had enough
of baby Pinkerton.

So you tell him to meet me
in Main Street tomorrow.

- High noon.
- You mean a gunfight?

I got a show
I need you to take.

The whole town is betting
against you, Will.

I've been challenged
I can't turn him down.