All language subtitles for ripper.street.s04e05.1080p.bluray.x264-turmoil

You should save
your shock and awe for this.

Those are bite marks, Reid.

Flesh torn out with teeth.
I could no more

kill Leon Ratovski
than I could kill myself.

(CLUNKING)

Do you travel somewhere, Miss Castello?

Paris, a story hunted down.

Thomas Gower? This still does not make
Thomas Gower Tanner's killer.

(RENDING FLESH)

Arrrgh!
(WET SLICING)

It is you who gains access

to the Customs House, is it not?
Might you show me?

But there,
beyond the barricade, treasure.

(SHE CHUCKLES)

(RAIN PATTERS)

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

Look, the golem.

(DOG BARKS)

What's that?

(DOG BARKS)

(RAIN PATTERS)

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

(DOG BARKS)

(CLATTERING)

(BOTH GASP)

(RAIN PATTERS)

MAN: Excuse me.

Ahh! Police!

Stop! There's someone there.

MAN: What?

Yes!

He's... He's covered in blood!
He's dead!

MAN: He is.

(RAIN PATTERS LOUDLY)

I do not say you did not see it.

I only say that what you saw,
it was not real.

It... It cannot be real.

It was as real as you are now,
Bennet Drake.

I don't know how many times
I need to say this.

The woman is dead. I saw it myself.

Her ankles are twitched. Dead!

Then how?

How, Bennet?!

I am not mad!

I am not mad...

I saw her.

It is because you cannot rest.

You are sleepless.
No.

Rose, any woman would suffer so.

Their senses adrift,

frayed through lack of rest.

You must rest, Rose.

Please.
Uncle Bennet?

Perhaps this is not,
after all, the best time.

No, child, this... this is good.

We are glad you have come.

Please, sit.

It is Mathilda, my love,

as we said,
come to watch the lad awhile,

give him some lunch and his tea.

Allow you some sleep.

Allow those frayed senses of yours
to knit again.

Only sleep, my love.

All will be right again.

And do not forget,

Miss Susan was your dear friend.

And in your heart...

you must yet mourn for her.

No,

Bennet...

she is no friend of mine.

That bitch means to steal our child.

Finished. Do you understand?

Only for real this time.

Our boy never clapping eyes on us
as long as he lives,

unless it's a newspaper photograph,

the pair of us
with ropes around our necks.

What was I supposed to do, Matthew?

He called to me, my son.

He called to me.

Ought I to just have abandoned him
once more?

You want to know what he's going to
look like as a grown man?

Teach him to ride?
Watch him fall in love the first time?

You want to know those things to pass?

Then, yeah, you goddamn ought to
have left them there to wail for you!

Oh, you're a man, you don't understand.

Oh, that's a fine apology.

Oh, I must apologize now, must I?
To you?

Who I would otherwise consider
the bane of my life, if banes

weren't altogether more bearable?!
No, no, no!

You are not going to deflect this on me.

It's I that must go to my place of work,

a police station,

and pray to God
that my chief's wife is not believed

when she says she saw a dead woman
walk by her window last night!

Oh, she won't be.
She was, she was barely awake.

She was sleepwalking.

And besides, as you say, I am dead.

Whoever would believe her, hm?

Well, we're soon going to find out,
won't we?

Need my laboratory, don't I?

Potassium nitrate.

Make this lock-cracker
for your little escapade tonight.

It mustn't happen tonight, must it?

It must.

You think you can sway Silver Beard
to that way of thinking?

You leave Abel to me.

If I'm not back by ten tonight,
you just assume me taken.

Make all further arrangements
without me.

Only, you make them fast.
Do you hear me?

And you get yourself gone.

Bane of your life, huh?

DOCK WORKER: Oi, oi!
Can I get a hand over here?

CROKER: "In recognition
of his outstanding achievement..."

"in the reorganization...

"of the Metropolitan
Police Detective Department..."

"Her Majesty the Queen..."

"last night

"bestowed the Companion
of the Order of the Bath..."

"to Assistant Commissioner..."

"Augustus Dove."

DRUMMOND: "This ceremony took place
at Toynbee Hall,

"where no less a personage
than joseph Chamberlain,

"the Colonial Secretary,
conferred the honor."

Oh, hold up, Drum.
It's the father-in-law.

Morning, Mr. Reid.
Drummond. Thatcher.

Morning, Mr. Reid.

Hey, sir, did you see?

Assistant Commissioner Dove
got a bauble for his coat.

Do you disrespect this country's
heraldic traditions, Sergeant?

Woe me, Mr. Reid.

Still, it's a wonder, is it not,

where a common fella
may rise to these days?

Oh, you work hard, Thatcher,
who knows how far you may travel?

Oh, no.
I do not speak of myself, sir. No.

Happy as he is,
that's Frankie Thatcher. No.

It's Drum here that I ask for.

Indeed.

And why might Sergeant Drummond
thank you

for inquiring after his prospects?

Oh, he's my friend, is all.

And I know how he means to be...

to be well thought of in this world.

Frank, enough!

Oh, he is well thought of, Mr. Thatcher.

I can vouch for that.

(TELEPHONE RINGS)

Leman Street.

Body found off the back of Heneage.

Mr. Reid, wait, if you please!

Men come.
Rope the area off as good as you can.

(HE REPLACES RECEIVER)

The body, it is a dead man.

One known to us, sir.

And who that, Mr. Drummond?

(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS)

(BUSTLE AND CHATTER)

JACKSON: Drake.

Jackson.

Quiet night?

Quiet enough.

So, the boy, he's settling on?

He does.

Mr. Drake, a man's body is found.

Murdered, so it's said.

Who is it attends?

I feel we must.

Who is it, Mr. Reid?

Captain, yourself, also.
Tell me who it is, Inspector!

I am sorry, Bennet.

(BUSTLE AND CHATTER)

Get out of the way!

Move it!

You men, I want these ghouls
ten yards further back!

Oh, Thomas...!

A street fight.

Knife wound.

Gave as good as you got, did you not,
Thomas boy?

There will have been over 200 pairs of
boots up and down here since sun-up.

Any signs that may have been read

would have been trod and kicked
into obscurity.

He wasn't killed here, however.

See his knees? Grooves and abrasions,

and his hands, likewise.

It's gravel rash.

He was...

He was dragged.

Dragged himself.

Woodseer Orphanage
is three streets north of here.

How?

There is this violent altercation.

The assailant takes the knife
to finish the matter, leaves him.

So he crawls to where
he might feel safe.

MISS GOREN:
You let me through!

Let me through!

Let me see him!
(CROWD SHOUTS)

Oh!
Deborah...

Oh, who has done this to him?
Miss Goren,

let us do our work.
No!

And what use is that work, Edmund Reid?

What use to us all?

Please, please, let me walk you home.
You cannot help him now.

Sergeant Drake, as you once were,
think of this boy.

Think of all you have done for him!

(MUFFLED SOBBING)

REID: Come, come.

(FLASH DISCHARGES)
Thatcher!

Remove this hacker and her work.

There's no law says
you may take that, Sergeant.

Oh, is there not? Oh(!)

(GLASS SHATTERS)
Get you gone, woman.

Go!

(SCUFFLING)

The wound...

how long for him to bleed out,
do we say?

Ten minutes, certainly no longer.

And so injured,

he could not have dragged
himself at no more than, what?

Ten yards a minute, maybe?

Miss Goren's orphanage, north of here.

He must therefore
come from the other direction.

Thatcher.
Yeah?

I want a radius, 150 yards,

all points south.

Such a ruck, it would not took
a place on a main thoroughfare.

We look for dark corners, therefore.
Get these men to it!

Some will say this is what killed him.

This from which the ruin of his life
was made.

This is the response, not the question.

(SHE SIGHS)

Edmund Reid, who sees life
and its puzzles clearer than you?

I have no idea what life would look like
were it not a puzzle.

Were it not, I firmly believe
the two of us would never have met.

No.

Well, here is another puzzle for you.

Why is it, do you suppose, in the...

in the two and a half months
since Isaac was hanged,

you have not sat down
to take a drink with me once?

Why do you think?

I felt... shame.

(SHE IN HALES)

Because you could not save Isaac?

I wasn't going to show you these, but...

These are drawings made of this...

"Whitechapel golem"

in the weeks before the Rabbi Ratovski
was murdered.

No, they are the drawings
made in the past month.

And what do you make of that fact,
Deborah?

If they draw him still,
perhaps he lives still

and did not die
when Isaac Bloom was hanged.

Might I borrow these?

Edmund, there...

There is a matter,
I feel it is perhaps...

disloyal to say it.

But your daughter Mathilda...
What of her?

Her friendship with Miss Castello...

Rachel is a good person, this I know,

but she is young and angered.

She feels you police hide the truth

of what is acted out on the people
of her faith.

She is Jewish?
Raised as an Englishwoman.

However, she discovers her heritage
with a zeal,

a zeal for truth,

and that truth to be discovered
however it may.

If you see my meaning.

I do not know if it is disloyal.

But I know that I am grateful to you
for sharing of it.

(CHATTER NEARBY)

MAN: Whoa, hey.

Hey!

(MUTTERING)

(CANDLESTICKS CHIME)

WOMAN IN CROWD: What's happened?

(CHATTERING)

WOMAN: Blimey,
what are they lookin' for?

(CROWD CHATTERS)

Here, you be Gower?

Might be something.

YOU are a newspaper woman.

It is your job to inveigle,
to connive, to seduce.

But this is low.

She's a child. She's my child.

She is not that, Mr. Reid.

I do not know her well,
but what I do know of her, I admire.

And she's no child, sir.

And you seek to turn her to what?

My betrayal?
No, sir.

Never that.

I seek only that which
you seek also, Mr. Reid,

that which I find endlessly
injuncted from me - the truth.

Wait. What is that?

Is this the murdered man Ratovski?

What is this? What is this mapping?

What is it you make here?

A history...

of the frozen and famished journeys
made by those of my faith,

that they might find shelter
in Whitechapel.

Ratovski's journey amongst?

Ratovski? What of him?

Show me. Show me!
No, sir, I will not.

Bring a warrant if you must press it.

A warrant.

Or what details of the man and his end
which you yourself keep hidden from view

in the H Division archives.

I believe there is an expression
for the exchange.

Quid pro quo.

See this? It's piercing of the spleen -
unstoppable internal bleeding.

That was the finishing,
but not the finishing he sought.

You don't mean it.

All right, look at Gower's pockets.
There's money within.

Therefore it's not a theft.

It is personal?

His first point of attack from behind.

Pinned against the wall.

He wished to knife him,
he would have done it there and then.

It is an easy thing to say, I know,
but it is not you did this.

It is not you put that knife in him.

Nor you yourself, Mr. Reid.

(SCRAPING)

Oh, God, no.

No, no, no, no!
What?

(JACKSON DINGS TELEPHONE)

Hey, Drummond,
I need you to dig up a file for me.

Last name Ratovski.

What is it you do?

Tell me!
What do you think?

This is a human bite mark.

(TELEPHONE RINGS)

What?

What do you mean, gone?!

Sergeant Drummond, beneath my desk,
calfskin briefcase.

It is within.

Why is it you've kept it, Inspector?

The case remains of interest.
Despite my instructions otherwise?

What would you have me do, Bennet?
Avert my eyes?

Exactly that, Mr. Reid.

We had precise words on that matter,
did we not?

And I was clear as to what
such disobedience might then incur.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Get out, Drummond.

Yes, Mr. Drake.

(SIGHS)

They are not alike, Jackson. Not close!

That's because those were taken
from the lower abdomen.

It's fleshier there.
There's more to take.

In both these examples,

the mandibular lower incisor

is overlapped
by the maxillary central incisor.

And now, the exact measurement
on each of 'em

is a notch, and I mean a notch,

under 250 thou.

An overbite.

A slight overbite.

You throw a rock into Commercial Street
at lunchtime,

you will strike a man with the same.

Furthermore,
the method of attack on this here is...

It's entirely at odds.

This is...
This is a street brawl, a knifing!

Drake!

Now, whatever this means to you,

it means the exact same to me.
I made this case, too.

Now, how many examples
of pre- and post-mortem biting

have we had in the eight years
since I've served you here?

None.

Save this Ratovski,
and now your boy Gower.

They see him still...

who they used to call
the Whitechapel golem.

These were drawn recently at
the orphanage in Woodseer Street.

Bennet...

No.

No.

This man's killer
has been hanged for his crime.

And these...

children's scrawlings and overbite?

They are not evidence fit for
the overturning of that sentence.

Now, I warned you, Mr. Reid.

So you give me reason
why I ought not to send you away.

This... here now,

I do not pursue it in some attempt
to make the world wrong

or to disprove your work,
his work, our work.

I do it because I see the need for it.

And, yes, my return to Whitechapel was
indeed to make some defense of Isaac.

But that I stayed, it is you,
Bennet Drake.

You, my friend,

who I missed,

and who, now,
I wish nothing other than to help.

And how is it you now help me?

I want what you want.

I want to know who it was
killed this boy.

I want to see the investigation I make
bring you to him.

I want to give Thomas Gower his justice,

to use his awful death
to make comparison.

Despite all that you say, there are
similarities with Ratovski's murder

that must at least be discarded before
any investigation can move forward.

So you show me
the case you made against Bloom, Bennet.

Show me... every step of the way.

And then either you will prove me wrong,

in which case, you may indeed
send me away, or...

we, you and I,

shall then together
bring this killer to earth.

Well, he has me sold.

Fetch me my boy.

(SHE CHUCKLES AND KISSES HIM)

Come.

Why are you here?

My Uncle Bennet, your husband, asked it
of me so you might rest, Mrs. Drake.

No.

Girl, why are you in Whitechapel?

And don't talk your riddles with me

and tell me you are here
because your father, Mr. Reid, is here.

You tell me why the pair of you
would return to this place at all.

It is our home.

Home?

A place where he knew nothing
but blood and despair?

Where you were kept prisoner
by all them people?

Your mother gone,

dead and mad for the loss of you?

That's home, is it?

Home chooses us, I believe,

and not the reverse.

(SCOFFS) You know who the mother i...

(LAUGHS)

Not mother.

I am that.

lam.

You know who the maker
of Connor here is?

It is Miss Susan.

It is her.

She who might poison
the well of all London

and find those who still love
and forgive her.

Yourself, Mathilda...

I'm sure you would be delighted...

'l'.0 see her once more

and pass an hour or two

in chat with her.

It is true, I would.

But Miss Susan is dead.

Hmm.

Miss Susan is dead. Long...

Susan Hart is dead.

The whole world thought
you were dead and gone, Mathilda.

And yet, there you stand.

Connor...

Connor, your mama is sorry.

Mathilda, he likes a pinch of cinnamon
in his milk,

and we're now run dry of it.

Will you take a penny
from my purse there and fetch him some?

Of course, Mrs. Drake.

(SHE HUMS)

(DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)

When I was a girl and I wanted my way,

I would wheedle and whine...

offer eternal devotion
for a desire met,

owe a thing for one denied.

CROKER: And you are now changed how?

I do not whine.
Small mercies.

And a man as accustomed to lying
as you are would see clean through me

as soon as I made as if I hated you.

Oh, but you have charm, my girl.

And if we are to do this thing,

let us do it tonight.

It is... intemperate.

It is bold.

See you, Lady Macbeth.

Thieve in haste, repent at leisure.

Gather your Japanese porcelain
while you may.

(CHUCKLES)

If it must indeed come to pass
that you leave us...

I would see you steam away from me
on still waters. And this...

Plans must be made, observations took.

They are made. They are took.

By myself.

Because, Abel...

the snare closes.

Closes? How? I'll keep you safe here.

It's only that I feel it.

I feel it on me sharp.

No.

You are altogether too tough-minded
for such suspicions.

You tell me, girl...

you tell me how that snare looks.

I have been seen.

What does she say? "Thank you,
Matthew, for saving my life"?

"Well done"?

Nope.

"Take me to see my boy."

Now, I told you that was a bad idea.

And did you listen? No.

And whose problem is it now?

That's right.

Old Jackson.

And I'm the one that goes off
half-cocked.

I'm the one
that doesn't think things through.

(CLATTERING)
Shit! Idiot!

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

This how she did it, then?

What did she promise you,
Guard Theakston? Money?

For delivery to that pit?

A kind word?

Her snake tongue in your ear?

Who is it you speak of?
I don't even know who you are.

Oh, do you not?

What about the boy, then?

Remember him?

That's Miss Susan's boy.

And you would let him believe
she is dead when she is not.

How did she climb down
from that scaffold, eh?

How did she do that?

My husband, this boy's new father,

he is the police headman at Whitechapel.

And he will see you swing,

just as surely
as he will her when he catches her.

How did she do it?

Where is she hid?

Who hides her?

I see you, your fear.

You tell me.

You're mad, woman.

You're all the same!

Come on, Connor.

(LIVELY CHATTER)

This is where we found Ratovski.

Here.

Boy found him, raised a uniform.

You were able to keep the scene intact?

It was chaos by the time I got here.

Packed tight. Screaming.

Folk could see
what had been done to him.

Head caved in, shirt ripped from him,
and...

those bites taken out of his body.

Word would've got about, I imagine,
chimed most likely with the... er...

the talk that had grown up
of this Whitechapel golem.

Although there is no golem myth

in which it is said to have
torn men's flesh from their bodies.

Whatever the myth of it, Mr. Reid,

we saw to it that any confirmation
of that fact be withheld from the press.

And why that?

I was worried at what those
with a fear of our Jewish neighbors

might accuse them of.
I felt it a wise policy.

And one that you continued
once Isaac Bloom was...?

Once he, a Jewish man,
was sentenced for it, yes.

So then you removed the body?

We did.

Identification?

The man's university accreditation
was found about him.

You'd wired his place of work?

He'd taken a week's leave,
not told a soul for why.

And then door to door?

The synagogue on Princelet Street.

Max Steiner.

Ratovski paid his respects,
made a few prayers,

and offered nothing of his purpose,
and left.

Then we go to Bloom's lodgings next.

An old lock-seller, a lady,

said she saw Ratovski arrive at Bloom's
around six of the evening,

saw him leave an hour later.
His body found...?

The next morning.

But killed, according to Jackson,
11 of the night.

And you interviewed Bloom.
You found him disturbed, I imagine?

More bewildered, at the first.

He could not recall Ratovski's visit
or even that the man existed.

And you did not search his room then?

I had no call to.

It was not as though I did not
remember the man fondly, Mr. Reid.

I felt sad for him, not suspicious.

So it was not until you had
Rabbi Steiner's account of him

being attacked by Bloom
that you returned?

Another violent attack on
a religious man.

A compelling indicator
that warranted further pursuit.

A search warrant was requested.

We returned to Bloom's lodgings here,

conducted our search,
found our plug of flesh, that shirt.

(YELLING IN HEBREW)

REID: Calm yourself, sir.
I beg you, calm yourself.

Police.

We mean you no harm.

Our apologies.

We will leave you.

Briggs? Here, take a shift.

Tilda, what is it?

Is my Uncle Bennet here? My father?

Neither, Tilda. What is it
that worries you? Will you say?

I think I must not, Drum.

Might I wait, however?

Do I wait, then, for you to show me
what it is I have neglected to see?

No, 'tis copper-fastened, Bennet.

I would have come to the same
conclusions, I do not contest that.

Perhaps I worry it is, erm,

too much of an irreproachable case.

We here cannot win
but for one fault or another.

But do you not agree?

In his bewilderment,
you have found the perfect suspect.

In that search,
the unimprovable evidence.

Does such ease,
given what we have seen today,

not raise the slightest
shiver of suspicion for you?

Is that not you all over, Mr. Reid?

Your fevered eyes once more burning
through the deceit of the world

in the hope that you might at last
uncover its black mechanics.

MAN: Another body!

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

(PEOPLE CLAMOUR)

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

(SHOUTING CONTINUES)

MAN: See the wounds on his side?
The bite marks?

All the signs of the golem.

WOMAN: Do you see what has
been done to him, sir?

To his flesh?

Sir? Inspector Drake?

Sir? Inspector Drake!

Will you not tell me what our eyes
now see here?

What has been done to this man?

Or will you hide the facts of this case,
too?

Come on. Come on.

(SHOUTING CONTINUES)

I wonder if you understand...

if you could imagine, even,
what it is

so many in our community
have suffered to find...

If you will, please...
I will not, Inspector Drake!

They do not walk, starving,
through the frozen steppes of Europe

to arrive here to be so savaged.

Just when they imagine they have
some salvation near at hand.

You are charged with
the people's protection, sir,

and you have failed in that mandate!

And you, Mr. Reid.

How will you remedy this?

I will ask you of this man.

Can you tell me his name?

His name is Nadelman.

More than that, I can't tell you.

He recently came here from Lithuania.

As you can see,
emaciated from his deprivations.

But we cared for him.

We gave him a room
beneath the synagogue.

And that is where you found him, sir?

It was.

Mr. Thatcher, you will escort
Rabbi Steiner back to Princelet Street.

Take men. And you will work the room
as you have been taught.

Rabbi Steiner, we will see these streets
now scoured

for the cause of this, you have my word.

We will not rest till it is done.

Bennet. Bennet?
What?

What? Do you try to tell me
the old man is wrong?

That this is not at my door?

This Nadelman. Thomas Gower.

Isaac Bloom, innocent and hanged.

You are not their killer.

You are not. This is a battle
worth the blood, remember?

This is not a battle, this is defeat.

Oh, so the abyss will swallow
Bennet Drake, will it?

It swallowed you once, if you remember.

Our Gower was a soldier,
with the strength to resist this, uh...

fetish with the body,

but this man -
no, you can see how weak he is.

Advanced malnutrition,
severe muscle wastage,

necrosis of the fat cells.

You can approximate a time of death?

Are you asking if it was
about the same time as Gower's?

Yeah, I'd say it was proximate, Reid.

The, erm... This killer, here.

He comes face to face
with Thomas's strength and resistance,

takes a knife to end that resistance,

then he flees from the rumpus
he has no doubt made...

makes his way towards the refugee
lodgings in Princelet Street.

Finds a man too broken to fight.

Lets his desires grow fierce.

Now come see. Take a look here.

Here's your parallel tracks where the
upper incisors scraped down the skin.

And these are static puncture marks

when he then gouges down
on to the lower teeth,

and then the flesh is torn and sheared,

so it's almost as if he's shaking them
with his teeth.

So this biting,
it presents itself less as cannibalism

and more of a...

a means of attack.

It's like an animal.
Like a dog attacks.

Like a dog.

It's alike.

This is the animal hair that I took
from where Gower was found.

From the scale pattern of the cuticle
and the medulla type,

it's from an animal
that is very much like a dog.

It's a timber wolf.

Now, this town is crazy, I grant you,

but the last time I checked...

there were no wolves in Whitechapel.

(TELEPHONE RINGS)

(RINGING CONTINUES)

REID: Yes?

Assistant Commissioner Dove is here.

The error of it, sir.

Sheer bloody muck of a mistake.

Not for the minding of, Inspector.
Not now.

Not yet.

I know you.

The man you are, the policeman you are.

The compassion and rigor
you brought to that case...

as to every other part
of your work here...

It could never be questioned.

It must be brought once more, Mr. Drake.

This killer must be trapped.

I know you understand this, sir.

You shall have all the resources
you require.

Thank you, sir.

And I expect updates.

On the hour.
You shall have them, Mr. Dove.

Mr. Reid.

You find this savage beast, Inspector.

I will, sir.

Good evening, Mrs. Drake.

And hello to you, young man.

I'm sure Mr. Dove
is pleased to see you, as I am,

but it is late for the lad
to be out and about.

Rose, it is freezing.

Never mind Connor. Bennet, you mind me.

Not now, woman. Not here.

Mr. Drake, I should...
No, Augustus, you will hear this.

Rose...
I have no secrets,

unless you know how it is a murderess
escaped her sentence?

I know how she did it. I know.

I have discovered it.

Rose, I have told you,
this is a madness.

It is not, Bennet!

See, I went to Newgate,
to the pit there.

And there is a guard, name of Theakston.

Oh, how he used to make eyes
at Long Susan.

"Miss says this, Miss says that."

He'd have cleaned her arse
with his tongue

had she asked for it.
Rose, enough!

But I stopped him. And I asked him.

I said, "How'd she done it? Tell us.

"Tell us where she hides."

You should have seen him -
white as the beard of God.

And I knew it. I knew it then.

She must have been put
in that Newgate pit still alive,

and some accomplice to come
and collect her.

You cannot think...
You think I'm not able?!

Just remember all that she has done.

55 man, woman, child
and not a soul in this square mile

whose lives not changed by her.

By Long Susan Hart -
and she is about her evil once more.

You will stop this now!

Just try and make me, Bennet Drake!

Say you love me, do you?

Well, you cannot.

Because you do not trust me.

I, who have trusted you
and had faith in you

when I know the black things
you have done.

You will be silent.
I will not!

Reid. Susan. The Captain.

All of you.

The things you have done,
and I have kept

that secret
like a poison in my heart.

Rose!
JACKSON: Enough!

You two stop this right now.

Have a care.

Let me take him home, then.

We must take him home now, love.

Come on.

Let us get on.

Did you hear her accusations?

I couldn't fail to, could I, Frank?
So what do you say?

I say they are best unheard.

(FRANK SCOFFS)

I tell you what, Miss Reid,

he's a lickspittle, this one.

And you, Frank Thatcher, have an
old woman's snatch box for gossip.

If you do not mind, Mathilda, I should
like a word with Sergeant Drummond.

Yes, sir. Here, sir?

No, public house, I think.

Thatcher, you may stand at clock
till he returns.

You might be a little warier
with my daughter, however.

After you, Drummond.

It's still too goddamn wet.

Have to serve.

You should know, Mr. Reid, that...

your Mathilda... I mean to say,

if it please you, that you ought not
to be afraid of any impropriety

or ugly motive on my part.

I seek only to... if such were permitted,

both by yourself and herself, of course,

I seek only to be allowed to
come to know her a little better.

Drummond?

Yes, Mr. Reid?

Six months back,

when Captain Jackson removed
the bloody imprint

of Isaac Bloom's fingerprints
from the shirt placket

of the murdered rabbi, Ratovski,

and Inspector Drake wished them then
to be used as evidence.

You recall all this?

I do.

And the warrant that was then secured
for the search of Mr. Bloom's rooms?

Yes, sir.

And when it was felt that
the full and awful details

of the crime should not be
broadcast abroad, for fear of panic,

and so the newspapers were injuncted -
all this you recall?

Who could forget, Mr. Reid?

Then tell me...

whose authority was it
saw these commands made?

Why, Mr. Dove, sir.

Good evening, Augustus.

You have heard the rumpus out there?

I have not, forgive me.

This has been a clay.

Well, it must have been.

For the whole world cries of it.

Of what?

Not the once, but twice.

He has... performed his act once more.

The last occasion,

he confessed to both of us
what he'd done to that rabbi.

Oh, I remember, Abel.
What a runaround that was.

You were meant to care for him.
And I do. I do!

This cannot happen again.
He must be watched.

(SIGHS) I know, I know.

And further to that, Abel,

the woman you shelter...

I now know who she is.

Why would you not tell me?

She is almost a celebrity in these parts
and you have kept her these two months.

I have grown fond of her.

Wish her well.

Your murderous, conniving mind,
by your kind heart...

it will be the finishing of you.

Mm. I do not think it is the end
of myself which currently exercises you,

Assistant Commissioner.

You and that bauble
so recently pinned to your breast.

Besides, they owe me money.

She and her American husband?

Oh, yeah.

How did he do it?

How did he fake her death, Abel?

Free her?

Oh, damned if I know.

But he is a sharp one.

Plus, there are...

plans afoot,

which will see the pair of them gone.

Plans?

Mm.

There is currently some merit
in H Division's finest surgeon

being gone from it.

You set about your plan, Abel.

I shall set about seeing
how else the trail that leads to us

may be broke and scattered.

How that, Augustus? How broke?
How scattered?

Never mind that for now.

You get home, and you keep that beast
close to you, you understand?

(FOOTSTEPS)

(DOOR CREAKS OPEN)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(DOOR OPENS)

Matthew. I was afraid.

Me and you both, darling.

I tell you, this town... The things
that I've seen within it today...

Me and you
have got to get this thing finished

and ourselves clone with this place
for all time.

Where's the sea dog?

He's called away.

And the retarded first mate?

Sleeping beyond.

(KNOCKS ON THE TABLE)

I know there's wisdom
in sleeping early for night work,

but it's time to rise
and get about it now, son.

(DOOR OPENS)

ABEL: Well, my children...

(DOOR CLOSES)

the night is a dark one.

Clouds roll over.

Such auguries must not be ignored.

Let us eat before we thieve.

Move across.

I sit there.

Go, Nate, move along.

Who are we to separate husband and wife?

Er, while you're up...

get them kerosene lamps
and wipe them down.

There is food aplenty, Captain.

No call for you to be filching others'.

Sleep.

Forget about this world awhile.

Were there nought to be done,
I would stay, Rose.

But, er...

tonight, there is an evil out there,
which I...

I cannot hide at home, my love.

And, for all that it may not be worth
a heap of shit no more...

I must go to work.

Bennet

Yes, my love?

Do what you like.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(CHATTER)

(STEAM TRAIN CHUGS)

As we agreed, your building of the case,
the evidence which convicted Mr. Bloom...

it was... flawless.

But we know that Isaac Bloom
cannot have killed Ratovski, because...

The killer still walks amongst us.
Yes.

And we must needs look elsewhere
for the flaw, Bennet.

And so I only ask you...

to think on who else might have had
both the knowledge and the opportunity.

What?

My division has known care
and advancement beneath his eye.

He has been the voice and encouragement
we who must police this quarter

have always called for.

He has understood my life here, Mr. Reid.

He has... been my friend.

And it is he who gets you your warrant.

He who, therefore, knows the address
at which to leave the evidence.

Evidence that he knew Captain Jackson
would clasp tight to his heart.

And it is he who then says,
"Yes, use your fingerprints."

And, "Yes, I will bar all newspaper
reportings of the details."

Only he, Bennet.

Only Augustus Dove.

You ask me to admit his corruption.

I must therefore admit my own.

I see that.
I see that, Bennet, I do. But...

what purchase that support
and advancement has given him here...

My purchase, you mean?

No...
My seduction?!

No, I do not mean to say...
No, Mr. Reid!

No, I may now need you here
for this fight which comes down.

But you leave off Augustus Dove,
you hear?

AUGUSTUS, FAINTLY: Rose.

Rose, it is only me.

Rose, forgive me.

Will you let me in?

(DOOR CLOSES)

Did you not come to curse me
for my madness?

Why would I?

I know you're sane.

Do you believe me?

I do, Rose.

Oh...

Oh, that is a wonderful thing.

Thank you.

Augustus, thank you.

Will you keep watch?

Over us?

If Mr. Drake is not here to do so,
then I shall.

The thought of you doing so
currently makes me happier.

However...

There was another fear
that you spoke of earlier.

On the subject of Miss Hart.

But also Mr. Reid.

An act in which you believe them
to have collaborated.

A bad thing.

A bad... thing.

Not only those two.

The captain, also.

And Bennet.

What was it, Rose?

I made a promise.

I swore it.

Never, ever to tell.

Then you must not, Rose.

Never break a promise.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

(CAMERA CLICKS)

(CAMERA CLICKS)

You sent for me?

Quid pro quo.

(STEAM TRAIN RUMBLES)

ABEL: Here we go.

Safe.

In you go.

After you, madam.

Captain.

Here.

Hush now, children.

Captain.

(METALLIC RATTLING)

Only the lock, correct? Correct?

Yes! Correct.

(FUSE FIZZLES)

Matthew, wait...

(EXPLOSION)

(HE COUGHS)

Too much spice in your stew, Captain.

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

Nate!

No, no. Abel.

I will not have more blood on my tally.

Not yours, my girl, mine.
Mine can manage the extra.

You step aside - get your crockery.

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

(SHOUTING OUTSIDE)

(SLICING NOISES)

(SCREAMING)

(DULL THUD)

For this?

Anything else you wish to pilfer,
or do we sail?

REID: I will not stand idle whilst
Whitechapel falls beneath terror.

You are up to your guts in this.

This is the animal unleashed.

BENNET: There ain't nothing so cruel
in this world as the killing of love.

Perhaps I am only good for the fight.

Now we go hunting.

REID: Bennet!