All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 07x13 - The Murdoch Sting.KILLERS.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

- synced and corrected by chamallow -
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(doorbell)

Right on time.

A pleasure to see you again.

I'll inform Mr.
Worthington of your arrival.

If you'll excuse me.

Mr. Worthington?

Your guests are arriving, sir.

Mr. Worthington?

Mr. Worthington.

Please, just give me a moment.

(Murdoch): And you have
no idea where he went?

I didn't even know he was gone, sir.

He'd been in here working all morning.

Even while his engagement
party was about to begin?

Mr. Worthington doesn't
believe in idle hours.

Sir, no one's been able
to find the fianc�e,

Miss Cassie Chadwick.

Oh. Perhaps they simply eloped?

Eloped, sir?

Mr. Worthington is the
President of the Canadian Bank.

He is not the sort to elope.

No. Did anyone visit Mr. Worthington?

Telephone him, perhaps?

He did make two telephone calls by himself.

Both were rather heated.

Oh? Do you have any idea
who he was speaking with?

- What the arguments were about?
- No, sir.

(doorbell) If you'll excuse me, sir.

More guests for the party?

One Mr. Worthington may
have wanted to avoid.

Cold feet?

Mr. Andrew Carnegie, sir.

I apologize, but I must speak
to Mr. Worthington at once.

Mr. Carnegie, Mr. Worthington
seems to have gone missing.

But he just telephoned
me just two hours ago,

informing me of his intention
to marrying my daughter.

- And you oppose the union?
- Who am I speaking to?

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary, sir.

Mr. Worthington was to marry your daughter?

I should hope not.

I only have one daughter, sir,

and she is four years old.

I was in Guelph,

breaking ground for one of the
many libraries I'm financing,

when the call came through.

Do you know Mr. Worthington?

Only by reputation. I've
never set eyes on the man.

Yet he told you he was
marrying your daughter,

- a Miss Cassie Chadwick?
- Never heard of her.

- And I told Worthington so.
- How did he react?

He hung up the telephone.

Your driver is anxious
to depart, Mr. Carnegie.

Giving money away is
more work than making it.

Mr. Carnegie, should the need arise,

may we contact you if we
have further questions?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Mr. Baird.

Mr. Worthington took
something out of his safe

before leaving. Do you
know the combination?

A stack of bills and his
passport were left behind.

Wherever Mr. Worthington went,
he was planning on returning.

Cart tracks. That's unusual.

Four feet, seven inches.

What did the guests have to say?

Well, sir, it was like pulling teeth,

but it's rumoured that Miss Chadwick is

Mr. Carnegie's child outside
the banns of marriage.

A basket-case, sir, if
you will, like myself.

Yet Carnegie claims never
to have heard of her.

Is it possible he was
unaware he'd fathered a child?

Well, he was single most of his life,

and a railway man at that, sir.

Find out what you can about
this Cassie Chadwick, George.

Oh, and speak to the butler,

I need a list of all of
the deliveries here today...

food, flowers, guests.

We need to find this exact cart. Sir.

- Julia.
- William.

- What a pleasant surprise.
- I was just leaving you a note.

- Oh.
- I'm going to be out of town for a few days.

- Nothing serious, I hope?
- No, no. I'm just meeting

- with a patient.
- Ah.

I was hoping maybe we could
have dinner later this week.

There's something I'd
like to talk to you about.

I'm not exactly sure
when I'm going to be back.

Well, please let me know.

I'm most anxious to discuss this with you.

Yes. Yes, of course.

So, neither yourself or
anyone else at the bank has

any idea where Mr. Worthington might be?

Oh, none whatsoever. Everyone
is extremely concerned.

How well do you know his
fianc�e, Miss Chadwick?

Loan officers don't often meet directly

with such... prominent customers.

She's a client at the bank?

I'm... I'm not really at liberty

to discuss bank business.

Mr. Fleet, the president
of your bank is missing.

There are a few... outstanding loans.

Substantial ones?

- Have any payments been made?
- Uh, not...

not as of yet. But the
bank is not concerned.

Why not?

Miss Chadwick s-s-supplied a-a-a pro-pro...

a pro-promissory note,

signed by Mr. Andrew Carnegie.

Where might this note be?

Mr. Worthington keeps all such
documents in his sole po-po...

po... po...

possession.

So, at his home in a safe, perhaps?

- Perhaps.
- Perhaps.

(smelling) Smell that, Murdoch.

Does that not make you want to imbibe?

No, sir. I haven't in years, and
I don't intend to start today.

Your loss. So, you believe

that this Cassie Chadwick
is an out-and-out fraud?

Sir, I believe she started
the rumour that she was

Andrew Carnegie's illegitimate daughter,

and then forged his
signature on a promissory note

claiming that he would
honour all of her debts.

Meanwhile, Carnegie's never
heard of the woman or the loans.

And who would have the
gall to ask him about it?

- Exactly.
- (George): Sirs.

Anything, George?

All kinds of fascinating stuff.

"Cassie Chadwick" is an alias,

the most recent in a long list of aliases

used by a female confidence trickster.

We've got bank fraud,
cheque kiting, forgery.

Sir, the woman is originally from Ontario.

She's run schemes from New York to Ohio.

Right, then. I can

understand her wanting to
fleece the man, but why marriage?

He's bound to find out
the truth eventually.

Well, sir, by then,
Mr. Worthington would be

legally responsible for her
debts, and highly motivated

to keep the scam a secret
to avoid shame, scandal.

- Hell of a wedding gift.
- It would have been,

had Andrew Carnegie not happened into town.

Right, Crabtree. Take Higgins and
scour the city and find this woman.

Sir.

Well...

Sir...

it's not yet 11.

(Gillies): Hello, Julia.

I knew I would be on this
train. And I'm not worried,

because there is nothing that has happened

that I haven't arranged.

And don't worry,

I have no intention of dying tonight.

Why?

Because I'm not done with you yet.

George,

any sign of her?

Sir, apparently Mr. Worthington
rented her an apartment,

- but she vacated it yesterday.
- That can't be right.

The Royal Victoria Place said
she checked in three days ago.

- No, she was in an apartment.
- George, she was in a hotel.

Did either of you get a
description of the woman?

Yes, sir. Young, pretty brunette.

Uh, mature and genteel, very pleasant, no?

Pleasant? I have her described as aloof,

snooty even.

(Brackenreid): Higgins, are
you sure you were even asking

- about the right woman?
- A Miss Cassie Chadwick.

Sirs, I'm just telling you what I was told.

But she can't be young and
old, pleasant and unpleasant,

- everywhere and nowhere.
- Excuse me.

My name is Mrs. Cassie Chadwick,

and I wish to report an impostor.

- And you are?
- Chief Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

Just the man I'm looking for.

Cassie Chadwick.

Suspected of cheque kiting, bank fraud,

- imprisoned for forgery.
- Yes, I'm ashamed to say.

You are this Cassie Chadwick?

Yes, yes I am,

although that life is far behind me now.

Could I offer you a spot of tea?

Thank you, no.

You ran your first
confidence scheme at age 13.

I was young and poor, not
that that's any excuse,

but I thought I might lie and cheat

- my way into a better life.
- Perhaps something a little stronger?

Oh, Inspector, you're so
sweet, but I better not.

Yes, I was incarcerated for three years.

But I'm married now

to a highly respected
and successful doctor,

and I'm living a life I only
dreamed of Better, actually.

And now you believe this
woman has chosen your name

in order to blame her crimes on you?

Why else? I mean, you
could imagine my reaction

when news of her reached Cleveland.

I mean, everything I...

Everything I have is at risk.

That's why I've come. She must be stopped,

and I desperately need your assistance.

Then you shall have it.

Would you care to have
one of my men escort you?

Thank you, Inspector.
I'm more than capable.

Oh, I'm sure you are. Rest
assured, Mrs. Chadwick,

we'll catch your impostor
and bring her to justice.

The full force of Stationhouse
n�4 is right behind you.

Well, I can't tell you how grateful I am.

And if I can be of any assistance...

Oh, I think we're more than capable.

Yes, I'm quite certain you are. It's just,

sometimes it takes a con to catch one.

- Then perhaps I'll call on you.
- Well, if you do, I shall be ready and willing.

- Good day, sir.
- Good day.

(Murdoch): What have you, George?

Sir.

I've mapped all the locations
that Higgins and I were told

each of the two Cassie
Chadwicks frequented.

Very good idea, George. I'll
assume the blue marks are

- for the real Cassie Chadwick?
- Yes, sir. And the impostor in red.

And this would be the apartment

- Ian Worthington rented for her?
- That's correct, sir.

Right then George, speak to
the cabbies in this square

and see if anyone has spotted the
Cassie Chadwick that you described.

Sir, I've already taken the liberty,
and I have a possible location.

Are you quite sure, George?

Sir, the cabbie remembered her.

Three trunks, brown hair, snooty manner.

Cassie Chadwick? Toronto Constabulary.

Detective Murdoch.

Eva Pearce.

We meet again, Detective.

Hm.

Eva Pearce.

Shouldn't be surprised that
she's at the bottom of this.

She's already seduced one
man into killing the other

and gotten away with it.

She lost the big fish on
the line, though, didn't she?

John Craig Eaton was
all but down on one knee

when you exposed her the first time.

Marrying Worthington would
be right up her alley.

And so would killing the man

if he threatened to expose her.

See what you can get out of her.

I'll inform Mrs. Chadwick.

Sir, let me speak with Miss Pearce first.

No sense complicating things.

(door opening) No, no.

There will be no cigarette
smoking, Miss Pearce.

Or do you prefer Cassie Chadwick?

I'd prefer the Constabulary spent
their time locating my missing fianc�,

rather than harassing innocent women.

Oh, come now.

- You're far from innocent.
- Really?

How?

Living under an assumed name.

Only because mine was unjustly besmirched.

Misrepresenting yourself

as Andrew Carnegie's illegitimate daughter.

I pay no attention to the rumours

men spread of me...

Detective.

Forging Carnegie's signature
on a promissory note in order

- to obtain fraudulent loans.
- Where is this document?

You should at least let me examine
it before making false claims.

I think you know precisely
where the document is,

as well as the whereabouts
of Ian Worthington.

I wish I did.

We were to marry.

I think he learned of your lies,
and confronted you with the evidence.

You killed him, and then
attempted to scurry Flee.

Do you want to know the
terrible truth, Detective?

Ian telephoned me just before our
party and severed our engagement.

Why did he break off the engagement?

I'd rather not discuss it.

Will that be all, Detective?

So, we just stand and watch
her waltz out the door?

Without a promissory note or any sign of

Mr. Worthington's body, we
have no legal right to hold her.

Did you mention that the real
Cassie Chadwick had surfaced in town?

The less Miss Pearce knows, the better.

She'll not be getting away this time.

Good man, Murdoch.

Sir. I've checked against
the butler's ledger.

Of all the deliveries to
the estate, there's not

a single carriage, cart, or
hackney that matches these tracks.

This cart is becoming more elusive
than Mr. Worthington himself.

I was here yesterday, as promised,

so I expect payment in full.

Payment is received when
services are rendered.

It's not my fault your
employer got cold feet!

What can I do if there
is no payment rendered...

George, was the
photographer's cart mentioned

- on the butler's ledger?
- It was not, sir.

Perhaps it was thought he never arrived?

- ... providing a service to you.
- There is no fee.

Pay me or face the consequences!

- I hope you are not threatening me.
- Pardon me, gentlemen.

An exact match.

Toronto Constabulary.

Where exactly did you transport
Mr. Worthington yesterday?

What are you talking about?

I know you took Mr. Worthington somewhere.

I arrived yesterday to
take Mr. Worthington's

engagement photos, when he suddenly
runs out the side of the house

and asks me to take him
to Russell Creek Road.

And you didn't say anything until now?

The man's been missing 24 hours.

He gave me a fiver to keep my mouth shut.

Was Mr. Worthington carrying
anything on his person?

A briefcase. That was it.

Was there anyone there
where you dropped him off?

Not that I could see.

Does Russell Creek Road hold

any significance to Mr. Worthington?

The family owns land there, sir...

used for picnicking years ago.

(constable): Nothing here.

Constable Crabtree!

Constable Crabtree is
knee-deep in pond scum, sir.

All right. Henry,

I need the camera to take
a photograph of this glass.

Oh, sir, I can

- help you with that.
- No, no, Hen...

Should I get the camera, sir?

Don't bother.

(George): Sir!

Sir!

One of the lads thinks he's found something

- with his punting pole.
- Assist him, George.

Right here?

George?

I suppose fortune didn't smile upon us?

I'm afraid not. Pond
water contains less oxygen

and is excellent at slowing decomposition.

Unfortunately, it is terrible
at preserving forensic evidence.

I assumed as much.

She'll not be getting
away with it this time.

Thank you, Doctor.

(Brackenreid): Mrs. Chadwick
is abreast of the situation.

- And you're certain that this is a good idea?
- I've had none better, Murdoch.

Ah. Inspector, Detective.

What can I do for you?

Please.

The Constabulary is
asking for your assistance,

but the scheme would remain
strictly under our control. Scheme?

We could very much like
to use your "talents."

I'm at your service,
Inspector. What's the plan?

We manipulate Miss Pearce into
returning to the scene of the crime.

Only the killer would know
where the body's hidden.

How do you want to do that?

Promise her the only
thing she loves: money.

- I can do that.
- Are you certain?

Please.

Miss Pearce was forced
to kill the golden goose.

I never in my career had to resort to that.

So, all we'll need is

a grieving relation,
a lawyer, and a floozy.

(knocking on door)

Everyone's ready, sir.

And you're sure we couldn't
find anyone more suitable?

Beggars can't be choosers, sir.

Yes, but beggars can fall on their arses,

letting murderesses walk scot-free.

Excuse me.

Oh, I do apologize.

And so you should.

Salutations of the
morning to you two ladies.

I am attorney Jacob Edward James of

James, James, Jarvis, and James,

and, at present, am representing

the missing person,
henceforth referred to as one

Ian Albert Worthington,

President of the Canadian Bank,

brother to Miss Lucretia Worthington,

at present sitting to my right,

and the fianc� of Miss

Cassandra Chadwick, seated
at this moment to my left.

Very pleased to meet you, Miss Worthington,

though I do wish it were under
more pleasant circumstances.

Well, I apologize for not
sharing in your delight,

but I've never understood my
brother's fascination with dollymops.

You have some nerve.

But yes I do!

To the matter at hand. On this day in 1901,

with witnesses present and in
the offices of said attorneys

- James, James, Jarvis...
- Oh, for the love of Peter!

Sir. Are you sure that's wise?

Under the circumstances,
Murdoch, I think it's imperative.

Mentioned date and henceforth
that said attorneys will

- invoke a policy of...
- (phone ringing)

(awkward chuckle)

Attorney Jacob Edward James?

- Get a grip on yourself, man!
- Yes, sir.

And stick to the bloody manuscript!

- Yes, sir.
- And stop calling me sir!

Yes, sir.

Due to Mr. Worthington's
sudden and unexpected absence,

I have invoked my power
of attorney, and will

disperse funds accordingly.
However, I thought it

appropriate to inform
you, seeing as you are

Mr. Worthington's two existing heirs.

- His two heirs?
- Surprised?

What? Did the gold digger
think she was getting it all?

Ladies, I assure you,

there is more than enough to go around...

$500,000 dollars, in fact.

In total?

No, no, no. Each.

Well,

my brother will almost certainly
reappear very much alive.

Yes, but until either he or
his earthly remains resurface...

please sign here.

But what if, God forbid,

he nor his body are ever found?

Well, then, Miss Chadwick,
I'm afraid Mr. Worthington will

be declared dead in absentia and
the estate divided betwixt you.

I see.

In seven years' time.

Excuse me? You did say seven?

Excellent work, Mrs. Chadwick.

Oh, she took that hook,
line, and sinker, didn't she?

- Dollar signs dancing.
- It's not surprising.

But Eva Pearce won't risk
incriminating herself just yet.

Not while she's the only
suspect in the murder.

- Right.
- Ah, Crabtree. Where is Miss Pearce now?

Sir, she went back to her apartment.

I thought she'd be
straight off to the lake.

She's not quite ready to play that card.

Perhaps it's time for phase two.

Right. Let's bring on our floozy.

- Sir?
- (French accent): Bonjour.

Allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Mademoiselle Desaree Deneuve.

Ooh la la.

But I would never kill him!

I loved him with all my heart.

Miss Pearce. Miss Pearce.

Uh, the detective is busy
right now, but if you just have

a seat over here, he'll
be with you shortly.

You are putting words in my
mouth. I have done nothing!

Constable Crabtree, this
woman being interviewed,

does she have something to do
with my Ian's disappearance?

- I'm not really at liberty to say.
- But you could say,

if you wanted to. It would give me such

peace of mind.

Well, seeing as it does
pertain to your betrothed...

Yes, Miss Deneuve has

become quite a compelling suspect.

- Miss Deneuve?
- Yes, apparently

her and Mr. Worthington were quite an item.

- Before you arrived, of course.
- Of course.

And you have some evidence that
she may have harmed him in some way?

Yes, yes, the inspector's
quite convinced that she did it.

Crabtree.

Take Mademoiselle Deneuve's fingermarks.

- Sir. Miss Deneuve.
- Miss Pearce,

my office, please.

What, if anything, do you know

of Mr. Worthington's
previous romantic liaisons?

I know of only one other.

A foreign woman.

But it appears you know that as well.

Do you have any knowledge
of this woman's whereabouts

the day of Mr. Worthington's disappearance?

None whatsoever.

I must say, Detective,
you seem less than pleased

to have discovered a more
likely suspect than myself.

I have no preference one way or the other,

Miss Pearce. I simply seek justice.

I don't believe that to be true, William.

May I call you William?

I'd prefer not.

You've developed a great
desire to lock me away,

regardless of my innocence.
You want nothing more

than to stand by the
gallows and watch me swing.

If such a day should
come to pass, Miss Pearce,

it won't be me placing
the noose around your neck.

That will be firmly in your hands alone.

Am I free to go, William?

Of course.

Oh, and please keep me up to
date on any information regarding

Mademoiselle Deneuve's
involvement in my fianc�'s case.

So, George, what do you think
of my performance so far?

Well, actually, Emily, I find you
make quite a convincing trollop.

I'm not quite sure how to take that.

Oh, I simply mean I find it rather...

Miss Deneuve, you are to
let us know your whereabouts

at all times and under no
circumstances are you to leave the city.

The eyes of the Constabulary
are upon you, Mademoiselle.

Just because we're letting
you walk out that door

doesn't mean you're getting away.

You have no right to accuse
me! I am an innocent woman!

- And I am...
- My goodness.

You're ravishing.

I hardly recognized you, Doctor...

Thank goodness you are here.
These people are terrible!

You're free to go, Miss Pearce.

Good day, Detective.

Good day.

(Murdoch clears his throat.) Dr. Grace?

I can explain.

Please don't.

- (laughing)
- The whole bloody thing was

almost a total cock-up.

Thankfully, Dr. Grace
kept her wits about her.

Oh, well, from the sounds of it,
you all performed wonderfully well.

So, do we think Miss Pearce
believes Mademoiselle Deneuve is

- your chief suspect?
- I believe so.

Good. Then it's time for stage three.

Gentlemen, gather your players.
It's time to finish this job.

I admire a woman with
confidence and conviction,

- Mrs. Chadwick.
- No. Well, I admire a man

who's not afraid to offer
a woman a compliment.

That's not difficult when
a woman so deserves one.

Oh, my, my, Inspector,

a compliment on top of a compliment.

A girl should watch herself around you.

Don't worry, Madame. I'm a gentleman.

Oh, I don't doubt it.

It's just, it appears
I'm not the only one here

so skilled in the art of seduction.

Scotch.

(Gillies): The first
murder I committed was easy,

nothing more than a game, really.

I held no particular
rancour toward the victim.

He was just an essential
part of the exercise.

But once I got started,
it was very hard to stop.

I'm a happily married man, Murdoch.

- Yes, sir.
- I wouldn't change a thing,

- even if I could.
- Of course not.

I don't think that's quite fair, George,

being angry with me
for kissing Mr. Garland.

I had no choice. Remember
that moving picture you did?

It's exactly the same situation.

Oh, really, you think
that's quite accurate, Emily?

Because I saw the kiss you gave
Garland. It seemed quite genuine to me.

I can't even imagine still
being a bachelor at my age.

Oh, of course not, sir.

Then again...

What of it? It's not as
if you and I are married.

Let me tell you this, Murdoch.

A man has to experience
what life has to offer

before he can be a good husband.

Well, if that's the
way you feel, then maybe

we should just break things off until
you're done with your diversions.

- Are you ending things with me?
- I'm not going to...

Are you?

- George?
- Yes, I suppose I am.

That's the signal. Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Yes. Of course I am.

- Eva Pearce is approaching.
- Yes, I see that.

- Cassie Chadwick!
- Miss Worthington.

I was so pleased to receive
your invitation to lunch.

So... unexpected.

Oh, please, please, call me Lucretia.

And I do apologize for my
behaviour the other day.

I had somehow mistaken you for my
brother's previous dalliance who was...

Between us, are the rumours true?

Are you really affiliated
with Mr. Andrew Carnegie?

- Yoo-hoo! Miss Worthington.
- Oh, dear.

There's the woman I was
referring to now. Don't look.

- A Miss Deneuve, I believe.
- Miss Worthington!

Miss Deneuve?

Miss Deneuve, I have made my
feelings toward you perfectly clear.

But I could never kill
your brother. I loved him.

You must believe me!
I don't believe a word.

- Miss Desaree Deneuve!
- It's not true!

You are under arrest for the
murder of Mr. Ian Worthington!

- What?
- Come with me.

No! I will not go.

- Miss Deneuve, please put the gun down.
- No.

Miss Deneuve, you're not helping
your case. If you just come with me...

- No.
- Miss Deneuve, look,

I realize you're very
upset, you've been wronged...

(gunshot)

(gasp)

Oh, dear! Come away, child.

Emily, are you all right?

Emily? Emily?

Emily?

They gone?

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Dr. Grace, are you really hurt?

I added the blood last minute.

There's always some on hand at the morgue.

You could have at least warned me.

- Very good, both of you.
- Well, I certainly believed it.

Yes, sir. It appears Dr. Grace is
quite good at deception and chicanery.

(Gillies): Do you take me
for a fool? If you continue,

you will both die.

(knocking on desk)

(knocking on desk)

Higgins! Will you stop that?!

Two days of following Eva
Pearce from beauty salon

to hairdressers, and nothing,

not even as much as a
nod to Russell Creek Road.

Patience, gentlemen. Nothing
will dissuade Miss Pearce now.

Then why the delay?

Sir, the mail's just come in.

There's a letter for you
with no return address.

Ian Worthington's body is in the
southeast corner of Russell Pond.

Signed Anonymous.

There is no way we'll be
able to prove she sent this.

I'm beginning to admire
this woman's ingenuity.

As am I.

I believe it's in our best
interest to declare this case

- officially closed.
- Sir?

Oh.

Well, how tall was he?

Well, how tall are you?

Well, as we've never met,
that doesn't really help me.

Excuse me, Constable?

- Well, how tall are you?
- Detective Murdoch.

Miss Pearce. Constable Crabtree is busy

on another case at the moment.
If you could please have a seat.

You don't know how tall you are?

- Miss Worthington.
- Miss Pearce.

So, they've asked you
to the station as well?

Yes, though I have no idea why.

You don't suppose there's
been some development?

I wonder if they found Ian's body...

Oh!

Miss Chadwick, Miss Worthington.

Thank you for your trouble.
We've brought you in

to inform you that the
Constabulary have concluded

that Mr. Worthington was indeed
killed by the late Miss Deneuve.

- Oh!
- A tragic, unfortunate circumstance.

However, as Miss Deneuve is
of course no longer with us,

we have to declare the
investigation officially closed.

- Closed?
- But how can the investigation be closed?

Has the body been located?

No, it hasn't as of yet, I'm afraid.

We did receive an
anonymous letter suggesting

the whereabouts of his
remains might be in a pond,

but we sent a man out to have
a poke around; he didn't find anything.

But you must look again.

Well, yes. I mean, what
if the man simply failed

- to locate poor Ian and his body is down...
- Look, ladies, I'm very sorry.

The Constabulary is not in the
business of corpse recovery.

I mean, we just don't
have the resources to go

re-investigating every anonymous tip.

If Mr. Worthington's remains are
found, you'll be the first to know.

Thank you for coming in.

Oh!

Well, that's that, then.

Terrible. But I should be returning
to the continent in the morning.

There's just no sense sitting vigil.

But surely we can't
leave things as they are.

All will be settled in time, my dear.

These seven years will just fly by.

Now, thank goodness
you have your benefactor

Mr. Carnegie to take care of you.

Don't grieve.

Until then, Miss Chadwick.

(Pearce): Miss Worthington.

Do you have those figures I
requested from you earlier?

- Yes, sir.
- Wonderful.

As you can see...

- George.
- Sir. On my way.

(grunting with effort)

Where are you?

- Where?!
- Miss Pearce.

What are you doing?

You'll catch your death in there.

Nice of Mr. Carnegie to invite us, Murdoch.

- Yes. I'm just not sure why, exactly.
- Inspector Brackenreid.

- Detective Murdoch.
- Mrs. Chadwick.

Oh, here you are.

I didn't want to leave
without saying goodbye

and thanking you both.

Oh, you've done me such a great
service catching my impostor.

Oh, it's our pleasure.

And thank you for your
assistance. Were it not for you,

we may have never put
Eva Pearce behind bars.

Oh, you're too kind. And...
take care of yourselves,

please, won't you? There are many
more Cassie Chadwicks out there.

None quite so devious
as Eva Pearce, I hope?

Women can be very misleading.

We are all capable of looking
straight into a man's eye

and disguising any lie as the truth.

We do it every day.

Well, all are capable, but
not all are so inclined.

Well, I hope for your sake
that's true, Detective Murdoch.

It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Chadwick.

And if I wasn't a legitimately
married woman, Inspector.

So, till we meet again, gentlemen.

Good day.

Ah, Inspectors. Thank you for coming.

Mr. Carnegie.

I understand you've
apprehended one Cassie Chadwick?

Yes, sir, also known as Eva Pearce.

She's being tried for the
murder of Ian Worthington.

Yes, well, I've just received
word about another Cassie Chadwick,

operating in Cleveland,

married to a respectable doctor.

Seems she's been borrowing money
against my name for a long time,

pretending to be my illegitimate daughter.

Capable of looking a
man straight in the eye.

Bloody hell! She's pinched my wallet!

(Murdoch): Ho, ho, ho.

- It's not funny, Murdoch.
- No, sir.

Not to worry, Murdoch.

I'll make the necessary
phone calls to Cleveland

and alert them of the embarrassing truth.

"Excuse me, officers. It seems
that we've assisted the original

and entirely active Cassie Chadwick

in shutting down the
activities of her own copycat."

I need no reminder, sir.

Oh, cheer up, Murdoch.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice
a small fish to catch the big one.

You brought a two-time murderess to
justice. That's the important part.

Sirs, I'll be leaving for the day.

Why don't you treat yourself and Dr. Grace

to a nice meal courtesy
of Stationhouse n�4?

The happy couple deserve it
after all their hard work,

don't you think, Murdoch?

Sirs, Dr. Grace and I are not socializing

in that manner at this time.

George? I'm sorry to hear that.

Surely just a bump in
the road, eh, Crabtree?

- She's taken with another chap.
- You've got to fight for the girl, Crabtree.

Get in there and show
her who's the better man!

Well, don't just bloody stand there
and let a good thing walk out the door!

Yes, sir.

- Very good advice, sir.
- Of course it's bloody good advice.

And George wasn't the only one to hear it.

Murdoch, what are you
doing? That's my scotch.

Sir, I'm going to ask
Dr. Ogden to marry me.

When?

When?

No time like the present.

About bloody time, Murdoch.

(Brackenreid laughs.)

Good man!

Emily? I hope I'm not intruding?

No, not at all, Mr. Garland.

Please allow me to
apologize for the other day.

I hope you understand the
nature of the situation

- I was placed in.
- Yes, of course.

I understand entirely.

And I hope you haven't
formed a false impression

of my true intentions.

- I hope so as well.
- Um...

Pour Mademoiselle.

I, uh, I was wondering

if you might allow me
to escort you to dinner.

Hm? A nice bistro, perhaps?

Uh... Mr. Garland, I couldn't possibly...

Of course.

You are spoken for.

I apologize.

Actually...

dinner would be nice.

William.

What are you doing here?

Julia, I have something to ask you.

- Julia...
- William.

I sincerely hope that you could
make me the happiest man...

- No, William...
- Just a moment.

- By agreeing to...
- William, I'm sorry,

- I just can't.
- What?

Julia.

Julia.

Julia. Open the door!

Julia, please, let me in!

Julia!

Julia, please!

It's your last weekend of freedom.

Announcer: All-new Murdoch, March 3rd.

Well, Murdoch?

She said no.

To all the happy bacheloresses.

[distant scream]

Emily?!

[distant] Help!

Announcer: Murdoch Mysteries,
returns March 3rd on CBC.

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- www.addic7ed.com -