All language subtitles for 02. Murdoch Mysteries S03E01 The Murdoch Identity.DVDRip.NonHI.en.ACORN

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Stop him!

Stop that man!

- Out of the way!
- Oh!

Down here! This way!

Try the pub!

Please.

What are you doing,
barging into my pub?

Did a man just
come in here, miss?

He's a killer.

A killer?

Special agents from London.

We need to catch this man
before he harms someone else.

I didn't see anyone.

You don't mind if I
look around a bit?

Suit yourself.

He's not here.

Let's go.

Who are you?

Did I just help a murderer?

No.

- I don't think so.
- You don't think so?!

No. Wait.

I don't know who those men are.

I don't know why they're
after me, because...

I don't know who I am.

I don't even know my own name.

I believe someone
sent for a detective.

Constable George Crabtree,

Detective Hamish Slorach
from Station House Number Five.

Oh, yeah. Crabtree.

Yes, well...

There you have it.

Chief Constable Stockton
feels that Detective Slorach

is just the man to
take over for Murdoch.

Take over, sir?

Well, just until
Murdoch is found

and returns to his duties, son.

Of course. Welcome,
Detective Slorach.

Well, thank you,
Inspector Brackenreid.

Now, then. Where shall
I locate my receptacle?

Ah, this will do.

Fair bit of clutter, I see.

Sir, where would you like
me to locate your receptacle?

Here. Here we go.
Just put it over here.

Just move some of this
junk. It's not that difficult.

That's quite the blunderbuss
you've got there, sir.

Mm. Old Betsy.

More reliable than any
woman. I'll tell you that.

Uh, sir, we discourage
pointing firearms at the inspector.

- Ah.
- Right, then, gentlemen.

Our most pressing case...

Detective Murdoch's
disappearance, obviously.

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

He's been gone a week, then?

When he didn't arrive 8:00
a.m. sharp Monday morning,

we knew that
something was amiss.

- The detective is never tardy.
- Oh.

He was last seen...

His landlady saw him going
to church Sunday morning.

That was the last
anyone saw of him.

And you've checked the, uh...

Sir, we've checked
everywhere, twice.

Twice, well...

Well, gentlemen, it's
been my experience,

when a man who chooses to
disappear, he stays disappeared.

And your meaning, Detective?

He's off on a bender.

Oh, sir, Detective
Murdoch is a teetotaler.

He practices teetotalism.

Well...

Then it's a woman.
Vacation between the sheets!

You've got him
all wrong, Slorach.

Detective Murdoch is probably

the most buttoned-down
man you'll ever meet.

Seven days ago

I awoke to a railway guard
hauling me out of a coal car.

I had no idea how
I'd gotten there,

where I'd come from, nothing.

That was in Montreal, Canada.

How'd you end up
in England, then?

The only thing I
had on my person

was a steamer ticket to Bristol.

So you sailed the ocean
on a guess and by golly?

Not exactly.

There was a name on
the ticket. John Dawson.

There was an address
written on the folder.

I thought maybe I was Dawson.

But you're not.

I went to the address.

One of those men
answered the door.

I asked after Dawson.

And he told me he was dead.

Caught a glimpse of a weapon.

Told him I'd made a mistake.

I tried to leave, but
they followed me out.

Hey!

I ran.

They followed, and here I am.

They said you might be a killer.

Is it possible you
killed this Dawson?

I don't think that's
something I would do.

But I keep having this nightmare

that I'm standing over a body.

There's blood on my hands.

Perhaps I should turn myself in.

Yeah, go to the cops
with "I might be a killer."

What do you think they'll do?
You don't even know who you are.

They might know my identity.

They'll throw you in the clink

and put the boots to
you for good measure.

Besides, I've met killers.

Met two this evening.

And you don't have the look.

You've soft eyes.

Kind eyes.

You hungry?

I'll make you something to eat.

Constable.

Uh, Doctor, there's been
a body found in a field

near Detective Murdoch's church.

And from the
initial description...

There's a carriage
waiting for you outside.

Dr. Ogden. I believe you've
met Detective Slorach.

Of course. We've
worked cases together.

I understand you've
been assigned

to Station Four, Detective.

- Temporarily, of course.
- Of course.

Shall we go?

All right, Crabtree.

It's not Murdoch.

That's a relief.

Not for him.

He's been shot clean
through the temples.

The body appears
to have been here

for several days,
possibly a week.

That's one big bullet hole.

I'm done for now.

Ooh.

Uh, we try to avoid

directly touching items
at the crime scene.

- Fingermarks.
- Fingermarks.

Yeah, I don't put much
stock in those myself.

No identification.

Doctor.

Sirs!

Come take a look at this.

It looks to be bone
fragment and brain matter.

What kind of bullet drives
bone and brain matter

30 feet after impact?

Hey, I'd done my specials
for tomorrow on that.

That's all right. I'll
put it back as it was.

Oh, really? Your
memory being so reliable.

Mutton stew, 3 pennies.
Sardines on toast, 2 pennies.

Treacle tart, 1 1/2 pennies.

A bit dear, if you ask me.

I didn't.

I'm sorry.

It just felt like
something I would do...

Work out a problem
on a blackboard.

Could it be you're a teacher?

Mm.

No. Not a teacher.

- Clean shirt.
- Thank you.

So, what have you and
my menu board figured out?

Well, when I woke up
on that train in Montreal,

my head was injured.

Possibly from an
altercation of some sort.

My left side was very
bruised, suggesting a fall.

Perhaps from a railway
bridge or somesuch.

A railway bridge where?

Well, it was early evening
when I arrived in Montreal.

My watch had been broken.
It had stopped at 11:14.

- Perhaps in the fall.
- Mm.

Yes.

Accounting for a train's top
speed of 47 miles per hour

and traveling for between
eight and nine hours,

that means somewhere
between 376 to 423 miles,

making me from New
York City or Toronto.

You've a head for numbers.

Perhaps you're an accountant.

Oh. I hope not.

Well, you've had
quite a week, Mister...

I need a name to call you by.

Pick one.

Harry.

I've always liked Harry.

Good. Harry it is.

What's yours?

Anna. Anna Fulford.

Oh, that's... that's lovely.

Your name.

I feel a bit light-headed.

That's only your second pint.

You're not much of
a drinker, are you?

Perhaps I should rest my eyes.

Only for a minute.

Come on, Harry.
You need to lie down.

Excuse me, Doctor.

Do you mind if I take
the victim's fingermarks?

Oh. Yes.

George, I'll do that.

Oh.

Doctor, I'm sure
we will find him.

I hope you're right, Constable.

Well, look at this scar.

It looks like an "S."

Completely symmetrical. How odd.

So the victim's unidentified.

There are no witnesses.
No murder weapon.

Exactly.

Sirs, I checked the fingermarks
on our victim's silver case

against our police files.

I found two matches,
excluding the victim's own.

Now, one was yours, Detective.

But the others were
Detective Murdoch's.

Murdoch?

Could he be the one
who pulled the trigger?

No, sir.

Regardless, he left
the scene of a crime.

Oh, well, sounds
like a job for Betty.

Betty? Your rifle?

No, that's Betsy.

Betty's my hunting dog.

She smells something awful,
but she has got a nose of gold.

All right.

We'll leave at first light.

What the bloody hell was
Murdoch doing at the murder scene?

Excuse me.

Open up in there!

I said open up!

Harry, quick, get up.

Move and we'll shoot.

Now, both of you...

Let's go.

Move.

Down.

Anna!

Anna.

Get on.

Hurry!

- Bloody hell, he's got me!
- Hang on.

Ha!

Sir, are you're
sure this will work?

Not in the least.

No, Betty's desire to
track is only exceeded

by her desire
to sleep, isn't it?

She seems like a fine dog, sir.

Her gamy odor notwithstanding.

You're a dog lover, Constable?

Oh, indeed, sir.

Good man. All right, come on.

Let's go! Come on, Betty!
Let's go. Find Murdoch.

What am I gonna
do about the pub?

Anyone could walk in
with that door busted.

You can't go back there now.

No, I can't, can I?

Anna, this is all my fault.

You need to find someplace safe

and lay low until
this all blows over.

And what are you going to do?

I have to find out why
those men are after me.

How do you propose to do that?

Harry?

I've seen this bridge before.

Of course you have.
Clifton Suspension Bridge.

It's famous.

We need to find a
safe place. A sanctuary.

All right, Betty. Come on.

Find that scent. Find it.

Good. Come on!

Ehhhh. Oh.

Betty, Betty, Betty.
Where are the signs?

Where is he, huh?
Where is that Murdoch?

Where is he? Where is he, Betty?

Sir, look here.

Blood.

There seems to be
some sort of, uh...

Um...

- Altercation?
- Altercation.

Yeah.

Oh, that's a way down, that.

Sir, do you think Murdoch
could have gone over here?

I mean, is that why
Betty lost the scent?

We really need a
place to stay, Father.

He's really a decent chap.
Perfectly harmless, Father.

He's been injured. Yes.

I promise we'll be
no trouble, Father.

He's a good person.
Just for one night.

It's all right. Yeah.

Hi. Harry.

Nothing. Like he
vanished into thin air.

Detective.

Which, you know, there
is some good news in that.

Sir, I found several
more items here.

An empty whiskey bottle.

A biscuit wrapper.

A photograph of a bridge.

Sir, it's a hotel key.

From the Gladstone.

All those years attending Mass,

I never thought I'd get
any use out of them.

But the Father couldn't
refuse the request

of a good Catholic girl.

Are you Catholic?

I believe I am.

I felt at home in the church.

You're not a priest, I hope.

Are you worried I
took a vow of celibacy?

Aren't you brash?

That train you fell into must
have come from New York City.

They come brash from New York?

Ones I've met.

I've always wanted
to live in New York.

Be nice if I knew someone there.

What about your pub?

It was my dear dad's.

It's not where my heart is.

Nothing left for me in Bristol.

Thank you.

For what?

Fixing your bandage
or saving your life?

For both.

For everything.

So, what now, Harry?

I go back to the house where
I encountered those men.

I should slap you for that.
You're gonna get killed.

I'll be careful.

It's the only way I'll find
out what they're after.

Sirs, the victim's
personal effects

from the Gladstone Hotel.

His name is John Dawson.

He was a guest at the Gladstone

on and off for the
last six months.

A week ago he disappeared.

Ah.

One of those
newfangled matchbooks.

- Gentlemen.
- Dr. Ogden. Postmortem complete?

No surprises.

Though I must say I've
never seen a bullet wound

so wide and clean.

The bullet all but cauterized
the surrounding tissue.

- We need to find that bullet.
- Mm.

Sirs, there are some numbers
inscribed here in the matchbook.

- An equation of some sort?
- Buggered if I know.

I've seen numbers like this.

I believe these are
lens specifications.

What kind of lenses? Eyeglasses?

Actually it seems to be
something much more powerful.

A glass grinder would know.

Yeah, a glass
grinder would know.

You and I need to find out
who he is and what he knows.

Keating's afraid that he may
be working for Treadstone.

Putting the whole
plan in jeopardy.

So we damn well have
to find the slippery bugger

and find him fast

'cause Keating will be
here inside three hours.

Bloody Treadstone.

The only good news is
Charlie's watching the girl's pub,

and if the bugger goes
back there, we'll have him.

Excuse me.

Don't move.

What do you know about me?

Nothing.

Who is John Dawson?

- You tell me.
- I will kill you.

All I know is Dawson went
soft, couldn't be trusted.

Why all the pictures
of Clifton Bridge?

I tell you and I'm dead anyway.

Sir, we've walked
hundreds of feet.

There's no way the bullet
could have traveled this distance.

Well, I don't know
about that, Constable...

Crabtree.

No, I think that's an elm.

Ah. There it is.

- Isn't that a beauty?
- Whew.

.60 caliber.

Pointed, lead core,

copper-iron jacket to
withstand the friction.

Three inches long
when fired, at least.

Oh, the casing must
have been, you know...

- Big.
- Yes, right.

No question it was
specially made.

Oh, as was the rifle that
fired this, you can be sure.

Sirs, I've been to
the glass grinder.

He recognized the
figures from the matchbook.

He said a man came in
claiming they were for a telescope.

Telescope?

Yes, sir. It's for
scanning long distances.

I know what it is, Crabtree.
How does it relate to the case?

Inspector, we are talking about
a weapon of considerable range.

Bloody hell. It's for the gun.

Crabtree, this customer...

The glass grinder said
he gave the name Quinn,

and I have an address.

Well, if Quinn has a gun

that can shoot a
bullet that size that far,

we're going to need some
ammunition ourselves.

Crabtree...

- Break out the armory.
- Break out the... armory.

Anna?

Anna!

Harry!

Anna.

- You're safe.
- Where did you get to?

Well, I went to the pub
to block up the door.

I couldn't afford
to lose everything.

Yes, but they'll be
watching the pub.

Well, nobody saw
me. I was careful.

I was worried about you.

Were you?

I... I brought you
something back.

It was my father's.

I thought we should
even out the odds.

Right.

Let's get inside.

Higgins, Fisher, on the left.

Morris, Graham, right.

We need him alive, Slorach.

Hold your fire, you lot.

That was a decent shot.

Well, a slow bugger like that.

Sirs. Look at this.

There's our murder weapon.

Now, that's some rifle.

Well, you know your
way around a gun.

Seem to.

You are not an
accountant, Harry.

Those men seem
to think I'm affiliated

with someone named Treadstone.

- Lord Treadstone?
- You know him?

Well, he's some
high-up government type.

We need to find out all
we can about Treadstone.

Harry, don't you ever relax?

We're safe here.

William.

Oh, Julia.

Julia? Who's Julia?

Don't move a bloody muscle.

Anna, run!

Leave her!

Leave him to me, boys.

I believe we've met.

Excuse me.

Keating will be here
inside three hours.

Aah!

You're Keating.

Edmund Keating. Yes.

Well, you know me,
but I don't know you.

There's an imbalance
we must rectify.

So...

Let's you and I
have a little chat.

I'll give you credit.
You're a tough bastard.

I had you for dead when
you tumbled into that coal car.

So let's start
with introductions.

Who are you?

I don't know.

The fall must have
jarred my brain.

I have no memory of anything.

Mm.

Well, we both know you
were following Dawson.

So I want to know what you
know and whom you've told.

Or there will be
unpleasant consequences.

It's a gun.

Hmm. I can see
it's a gun, can't I?

Now what's a bloke from
the Dales doing in Canada

building a gun that can
shoot as far as a mile?

That's my own
business, isn't it?

Not when it puts a bullet
through someone's head.

Now, what have you
done with Murdoch?

- Who?
- He was at the murder scene.

I don't know what
you're on about, mate.

Oh, yes, you do.

You don't think I'll break you?

You know who I am.

You know my reputation.

Last chance.

Who are you working for?

Keating's afraid that he may be

working for Treadstone.

Treadstone.

He's hiring colonials now.

Typical.

I was hired to follow Dawson.

Why?

We'd heard he'd
gone soft on the plan.

You thought you could turn him?

What did Dawson tell you?

He knew about Clifton Bridge.

What about it?

The assassination.

That bullet could only have
been fired from your gun.

But you didn't fire it, did you?

You didn't know Dawson was dead.

Who are you working with?

I don't remember.

Aah!

The scar on Quinn's hand
is the exact same shape

and in the exact same
place as Dawson's.

It's not just a scar.

When I was on the
Khyber campaign,

there were elite-corps chaps
who had this sort of thing.

The whole thing stinks
of military intelligence.

Oh, great, uh...

- Scott, sir.
- Yeah.

I've got a contact at
the British consulate.

- I'll make a call.
- Sirs!

Detective Murdoch is alive!

Canadian Pacific
sent a telegram.

One of their guards
pulled him off a coal car

in Montreal last week.

I knew it!

I had his photo distributed
to each station on the line.

Bloody good work, Crabtree.

Higgins, contact
Montreal police.

See if they know where
Murdoch went from there.

But the question remains...

Why hasn't he
contacted the station?

It is puzzling, sir.

I'm sure he had one hell
of a good reason, Slorach.

You've heard of
Quinn, of course.

This is his work.

.60 caliber.

1 in 10 twist.

I dropped Dawson from 500 yards.

Did you even hear the shot?

Not that I recall.

Of course neither did he.

It's a shame he had to die.

It's a shame you have to die.

But such is war.

I'll be in position
in exactly one hour.

But, sir, who
knows who he's told.

He knows everything.

No. He doesn't.

Kill him.

If you could just give me
an idea of what it was about.

I've got an unsolved murder

and a missing police
officer down here.

Fine. Thank you very much.

And I'm sorry to have woke you.

Bloody diplomatic tossers.

- Mm.
- What's the news, sir?

He would only
give me part of it.

Dawson and Quinn were agents

at the War Office
intelligence branch.

They were banished to
Canada about six months ago

after an internal shake-up

that my contact was
not at liberty to discuss.

There was a third agent
sent here about the same time.

An Edmund Keating.

The three were associates.

Ah, could this Keating
be our shooter?

What if that's why
Detective Murdoch

was on that train?

Well, what if Keating was
on his way back to England?

- With the gun?
- Yes, sir.

Detective Murdoch jumps
on the train to follow him.

Crabtree, there's only
one way to travel to Britain.

I'll check with the
steamship companies.

Well, if it isn't your
pretty little sidekick.

Anna.

Now, careful, dear. You wouldn't
want to do anything foolish.

Your boyfriend's in a
rather awkward position.

Now, give me the gun.

Aah!

Thank you very much.

Inspector.

Last Monday evening

a man traveling by
the name John Dawson

boarded a steamer in Montreal.

Dawson was already dead by then.

- Was it Edmund Keating?
- No.

Edmund Keating
was booked on a ship

setting sail from
Halifax the same day.

Both ships bound for Bristol.

We'll have to get a
telegraph to the Bristol police.

Tell them there's one hell of
a big gun heading their way.

Who's traveling as Dawson?

Well, perhaps Detective Murdoch.

I mean, if he had seen
Dawson getting killed...

He'd track the bastard
down who'd done it.

Even if it led him
all the way to Britain.

Why hasn't Murdoch
contacted the station?

Slorach! We don't know.

Perfectly reasonable question.

Constable!

There's to be an
assassination at Clifton Bridge

in the next hour.

I don't know who I am, Chief,

but I can tell you
what I do know.

And how did you know the queen

would be traveling
through Bristol?

It was a closely guarded secret.

I didn't mention the queen...

Only that there's to
be an assassination.

Sir.

Telegram from Toronto police.

Toronto?

That's Canada, sir.

They say there's a sniper on
the S.S. Mayfair bound for Bristol.

The Mayfair
docked earlier today.

They also want to know
if we've been contacted

by a Detective William Murdoch.

Murdoch!

Murdoch.

Murdoch!

Bloody hell, Murdoch!

William.

William.

William.

Harry?

Chief.

I am Detective William Murdoch
of the Toronto Constabulary.

And I implore you to
listen to what I have to say.

The queen is on her way

to a private conference
at Ashton Court.

She'll be passing over
the bridge in 25 minutes.

You're sure that's where

the assassination
attempt will take place?

Yes, sir. I've seen
maps and photographs.

The best vantage point is
either of the two support towers.

Ah. A perfect line of sight.

No. The shot won't
come from there.

All of the images of
the bridge that I saw

were from the side and
from a much greater distance.

What's this here?

It's the observatory, sir.

Then that's the spot.

Impossible. That's
over half a mile off.

Well, sir, they have
a very special rifle.

There's no rifle that special.

I want all available men now.

I want those towers secure.

But, sir, can't you
delay the procession?

You obviously do
not know your queen.

After four
assassination attempts,

she thinks she's invincible.

Besides, the secretary
of war will be with her.

And Lord Treadstone always
travels with tight security.

Lord Treadstone? Sir.

He's the intended target.

- What?
- Yes.

It's Lord Treadstone
they're after, not the queen.

Sir? Carriages are ready, sir.

- Let's go.
- But, sir, it's Lord Treadstone.

I...

Go and do what
you've got to do. William.

Go.

Who the hell are you?

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

A bloody copper?

That's right, sir.
A bloody copper.

And you are under arrest.

Britain owes you a
great debt, Detective.

And you too, Miss Fulford.

I must admit, Chief,
I am perplexed.

If Keating sought to
destabilize the British Empire,

why not simply choose
the queen as his target?

Because he was after
more than simple disruption.

Keating and his
people wanted to control

a more aggressive,
expansive military.

And Lord Treadstone
stood in their way.

Oh, one can only imagine
the consequences...

And not only for Britain... Had
Lord Treadstone been killed.

Mm.

Her Majesty was informed

of the role you played
in averting this situation.

This contains a letter of thanks
and a modest recompense.

Oh, sir, I was simply doing
my duty as a police officer.

I couldn't possibly
accept payment.

Although I believe
Miss Fulford could.

Thank you.

I suppose this is goodbye.

Anna, I have
obligations in Toronto.

My position, my men.

And Julia.

It's all right, William.
I understand.

And I admire your loyalty.

I want to thank you.

Thank me?

If it weren't for you, I'd
have spent my life in that pub.

And the queen just bought
me a ticket to New York.

If I like it, I'll sell the pub.

Well, you'll have to watch out
for those brash New Yorkers.

They'll pale in
comparison to my Harry.

I'd best be headed
to the harbor.

Come and visit sometime.

Right, Crabtree. I
want it level and taut.

Taut!

Higgins, up... up at your end.

No. No, no, no. Not down. Up!

Oh, for God sakes. What
a pair of bollock-brains.

Murdoch!

Welcome back!

It's about time you
turned up for work.

We hear you had quite
an adventure over there.

Uh, sir, perhaps what
transpired in England

should remain in England.

You saved the queen's life.

Oh. Oh, that.

Sir!

Good to see you, sir.

Good to see you too, George.

You know Detective
Slorach, of course.

He was instrumental, sir,

in discovering
where you'd gotten to.

Well, don't forget
Betty, Constable, uh...

- Crabtree.
- Crabtree. Crabtree.

You got a good
team here, Detective.

Thank you.

I'm almost sorry you're back.

Oh, William!

Welcome home, Detective.

Thank you, Doctor.

How have you been?

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