Original subtitles

(enchanting music)

(bicycle bell rings)

- I'll see this gets sent out today.

(mysterious music)

(laughing)

(Julia): William. It was wonderful to have you with us

in London. Susannah and I are missing you more than ever.

I hate to deliver the news this way,

but the miles between us give me no choice.

I've received a grant to expand the teaching hospital.

It's exciting for women's medical education, of course,

but it also means that I'll be remaining in London

for the next year, at least.

Love, Julia.

(rapid knocking at door)

- Miss Longfellow, now is not a good time--

- Trust me, you are going to want to see this.

- What is it? - Evidence of a crime

you and I are going to prevent from occurring.

(theme music)

- Start at the beginning.

- Well, this is what we in the postal service

call a dead letter.

It's mail that can't be delivered

but also can't be returned.

- I thought dead letters were meant to be incinerated.

- Oh! Yes, they are.

But only once we're absolutely certain they're dead.

And you see...

Sometimes I can bring the letters back to life,

as it were, by reading the letters' contents.

- Mm. And, in this case,

you've found evidence of a crime?

- A forthcoming crime.

- "I've seen you in the window and I won't be ignored."

- "Answer me or else."

- Well, this is certainly threatening in tone,

but I don't see how this is a matter for the police.

- Well, Detective,

clearly the author of this note

is tired of being ignored by someone

and is preparing to take action!

- But this could just as easily be a prank of some sort.

And because there is no decipherable address,

or any other details, there's nothing we can do.

- Well, but-- - My answer is no.

(sighs)

(jazzy music)

- Sir! I was delighted to get your call.

I feel we haven't had a proper chin wag

since I got back from my writing sojourn.

- Indeed, George. Actually,

that's what I was hoping to speak with you about.

- Well, it was quite the adventure, sir.

- Mm.

I was wondering:

how did you and Effie manage...

all of that time apart?

- Oh.

Well, certainly, sir, it wasn't easy.

I think it helped that we were both

kept quite busy by our own work.

- Mm.

- You're missing Dr. Ogden? (sighs)

- Every day.

I-I could manage just fine

when I knew that her time in London

had a specific end.

But now I...

- Has something changed, sir?

- Oh! Yes, uh, I received this.

- She's been asked to expand the teaching hospital, sir.

That's wonderful!

Another year at least.

Sir, that will be difficult on a personal level,

but think about all the good the doctor is doing.

- That cannot be denied.

And yet I-- (dishes clanging)

(crowd murmuring)

- That's enough!

(grunting)

Let's go.

Get out!

- Well done, Miss Hart.

Are you all right?

- Just another night in paradise.

(birds chirping)

- Ooh. Miss Longfellow. Excuse me.

- Oh, no! No excuses needed.

I was just on my way to see you.

I've made progress on our case.

- Our...

As I said last night-- - Nothing to be done

without an address. Yes. But I've solved that problem,

at least partially.

- Oh. You've made a pencil rubbing.

- Mm-hmm.

I noticed indentations on the letter

and that led me to suspect that the envelope had,

in fact, been addressed after it was sealed.

- It seems you were correct.

- So does that mean that you'll help me?

(intriguing music)

- Sir, has a case come in?

- Oh! No, I'm helping my neighbour with a project.

Or at least I'm trying to, but I've had no success.

- Sir, what sort of rooming house have you moved into

that there would be blood on your neighbour's mail?

- Oh! That's not blood and that's not what I'm after.

The faded ink or graphite markings of the address,

I was hoping they could be revealed by ultraviolet light,

but, uh...

no.

I wonder if...

- How is taking a photograph going to help?

- The physicist Robert Wood has had some success

photographing, uh, using infrared light

with long exposure.

- I'm not sure I understand.

- Oh. Uh, both ink and graphite

are visible under infrared light,

so perhaps using Mr. Wood's technique

will reveal the address on the envelope.

- I see. - Of course the focal length

is much too great.

- Sir, have you given any thought to Dr. Ogden's letter?

- Yes! I'll be joining them in London as soon as possible.

- Sir, you don't mean to say--

You're not leaving the constabulary, are you?

- I-I-I realize that was quite sudden and I apologize, George.

But, yes, I-I-I need to be with my family.

- Yes, of course.

(somber music)

You don't, you don't need me to tell you

you'll be sorely missed.

And Dr. Ogden will be thrilled.

- Yes.

At least I-I think so. I've yet to receive

word or-or-or her thoughts on the matter.

- Detective.

I must say I am quite tickled

that you invited me to lunch.

- I-I'm sure I said we should meet outside.

- Did you? Oh.

Well, a man has to eat!

And I already ordered for us both.

Sit, sit, sit!

- Beans and sausage. How did you know--?

- Know that they're your favourite?

An educated guess based on what I've seen in your trash.

Now, Detective! I'm very eager

to hear what you've learned about our threat!

- Uh...

- Harwell Hotel, Room 3.

(gasps) You did it!

- Note that the sender does not include an intended recipient,

nor his own return address.

- It's all the more likely something nefarious is afoot.

Shall we go to the Harwell Hotel?

No! No, after our lunch.

- Uh, unfortunately, I can't.

I'm expecting an urgent overseas telegram from my wife.

- Oh!

Well, I suppose I can just go on my own.

- You will do no such thing.

- Well, I thought the whole point of discovering

the recipient was to warn them. - And you can.

- How? - By placing the letter inside

of a new envelope and sending it along.

- Oh, you must be joking!

- I assure you I am not.

- Harwell Hotel, please.

(mysterious music)

- It came in while you were out, sir.

(Julia): "As you said yourself,

we each have a duty and it's not always to each other.

The constabulary needs you.

You must remain in Toronto

and I in London."

- I'm sorry, sir. I know it's not the response

you were hoping for.

- That's rather an understatement. Excuse me.

- Oh! - Ah, Miss, can I help you?

- I'm fine, thank you.

I-I'm sorry to interrupt, but...

Oh, you got your telegram.

- What can I do for you, Miss Longfellow?

- You can read this, for a start.

- "You've made your bed.

Enjoy your last few days on Earth."

Where did you get this? - It was in the return-to-sender

box after our lunch. I noticed it because of the address.

I-I think you'll agree, the threats have intensified.

- Indeed. And despite the continued

lack of return address,

it's at least now possible for us

to warn the potential victim. - Channing Brown, yes.

If I can find him.

- I'm a police detective with the Toronto Constabulary.

I assure you we can find him.

- We.

So, are you saying...

you are going to help me?

- Yes, Miss Longfellow.

And we'd best hurry.

A man's life could be in danger.

- Oh. Good day, Mister and Missus...?

(giggling)

- Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

I need a forwarding address for a former guest,

a Mr. Channing Brown.

- I wish I had one myself.

- Mr. Brown didn't leave an address?

- Mr. Brown has never been a guest here.

But if you find him, perhaps you can give him these.

- Ah, more threats, as I suspected.

- These postmarks are all from last month.

Someone's been trying to reach Mr. Brown for some time.

- Well, we should be thankful

that whoever that is had the wrong address.

- Hm. I'm not so sure.

You mentioned that in the first note

they said they saw Mr. Brown in the window.

- Yes. Of course. Of course!

So he was a guest here at some point.

Is he lying?

- Or...

someone gave their alias, Channing Brown,

to whomever is now writing these threats.

- You are a genius, Detective Murdoch.

- I wouldn't say that.

- So now that we have the names

of everyone who stayed in Room 3...

- We just need to figure out which one

used the alias Channing Brown.

Oh! Uh, one of the forwarding addresses

is just around the corner here.

Should we start there?

- Yes, let's. - All right.

- But first! - Oh.

- Thank you for helping me.

- And thank you for being a concerned citizen.

- Detective Murdoch.

- Miss Hart! What a surprise.

- I'll say.

- Uh, my neighbour, Miss Longfellow.

We are investigating a-a string of-of threats.

- Uh, no need to explain.

What you do in your free time is your business.

Good day.

- Of course. Please, come in. Please.

(typewriter clicking)

Billy, dear,

there's a detective here who wants to speak to you.

- Uh, just give me a moment more.

(chuckling)

- Billy's a brilliant novelist.

Soon the whole world will know it.

- You're his secretary?

- Oh, goodness no!

I'm his benefactress, Juliet Medland.

- Now, then.

What did you wish to speak to me about?

(clears throat) - Your time

at the Harwell Hotel.

For how long were you a resident?

- Two weeks? But that was months ago,

before Juliet offered me this suite to live and work in.

- Mm.

You were registered under your own name,

but do ever have cause to use an alias?

- A pen name, you mean? Like Mark Twain?

- Like Channing Brown.

- That doesn't sound authorial at all.

- Nonetheless, the individual behind this name

has been the target of several threatening letters.

Are you sure you've never used the alias Channing Brown?

- I am.

Besides, I don't have an enemy in the world.

- Oh, sir. A moment?

- Uh, yes. Miss Longfellow,

you can have a seat in my office.

The next potential Mr. Brown should be along shortly.

- Hm.

- What have you, George? - Oh, nothing actually, sir.

I was just wondering, or rather Effie and I were wondering,

if you would like to come for dinner.

We thought it might brighten your spirits.

- Oh, that-that's very thoughtful.

But I believe I'll be otherwise engaged this evening.

- With this new case, you mean?

- That's correct. It's fascinating.

- I'm sure.

Well, is there anything I can do?

- Uh, no. I-I believe Miss Longfellow and myself

have it all under control.

Oh, there is one thing! - Sir?

- A Mr. Martineau should be arriving shortly.

If you could please show him to my office when he does?

- Yes, of course. - Thank you, George.

- Yes, I stayed in Room 3 at the Harwell Hotel,

but I am not Channing Brown,

despite what you or anyone else might think.

- Anyone else?

Are we not the first to ask you about this Mr. Brown?

- Not exactly.

A man came to my door at the Harwell Hotel

several weeks ago looking for a Dr. Brown.

- Ooh! Doctor, Mister,

they must be one and the same!

Now, what did he say to you? Was he quite threatening?

- You can answer, Mr. Martineau.

- He was agitated.

Not that I can blame him.

Apparently, Brown drove his wife to jump off a bridge.

- He what?!

Sorry. - Uh, did this man tell you

anything else, either about

his wife's death or her connection to this Dr. Brown?

- He did not.

- Well, did he at least tell you his name?

- No. - Oh.

- Now, may I?

- Yes, you may go. Thank you, Mr. Martineau.

- Do you think the man who came to his door

is the one who authored those threats?

- I believe it's possible. And...

I think I may know a way to identify him.

- What's this?

- Resumes I gathered for potential managers

at the Starbright.

- I see.

- Hope I didn't overstep?

- It's not that.

- But I can see you're upset.

- I like my evenings at the club, Isaiah.

It's lively.

- - And sometimes dangerous.

- At least I'm surrounded by the living.

It's a nice change from spending my days in here.

Detective.

- Miss Hart. Am I interrupting?

- I was just leaving.

- Everything all right?

- My fiancé wants something from me

that I don't want to give.

- Mm.

All relationships require negotiation.

- Negotiation.

Does that explain what I witnessed you doing

earlier with that young woman on the street?

- What you witnessed was a concerned citizen

thanking me for my help as a police detective.

(mysterious music)

Were you able to find those files that I requested?

- Yes.

There was one matching your specifications,

an Andrea Etter.

Died in a fall from Flindon Bridge six months ago.

- Very good. Thank you.

- Yes, I went to the Harwell Hotel.

But I simply wanted to speak to Andrea's psychiatrist.

- Channing Brown.

(scoffs) - Some doctor.

Supposed to make my wife better, not...

drive her to take her own life.

- You must've been furious with him.

- I was. I am upset.

Sweet Andrea.

- Mr. Etter, have you ever attempted to contact

this Dr. Brown via the post?

- No, never.

I only learned the whereabouts of his practice

on the day I tried to speak with him.

(Longfellow): Mr. Etter could have been lying.

- It's possible. He seemed credible to me, though.

- Oh, oh! To me, too.

Goodness, we're no closer to finding the author

of these threats or this man who calls himself Mr. Brown.

- Mr. Randall. - Uh-uh, Mr. Brown.

Mr. Randall is the young author that we met at--

Mr. Randall! Are you all right? Your jacket!

- Ruined, I know.

Some maniac ran me down in the street.

- How terrifying. - Oh, it was terrifying, indeed.

- You witnessed the accident?

- Sir, if I didn't know any better,

I would think the driver was aiming

for poor Mr. Randall here.

- Is that right?

- Sir, do you think this could be connected to the case

you two are working on?

- That's a question for Mr. Randall.

- Like I said before,

I don't have an enemy in the world.

This is just a nasty coincidence is all.

- Right. Well, in that case, as you were.

- Sir.

- Some coincidence.

If you ask me, Billy Randall is Channing Brown

and whoever ran him down is the author of those threats.

- I think you're right.

- Really?

Because there is one thing I-I don't understand,

which is why Mr. Randall is-is continuing with this ruse.

- People often lie when they have something to hide.

- Well, it must be some kind of secret to keep it

even after being run down.

- Indeed.

- I can see your mind working. What are you thinking?

- If we can ascertain the nature of Mr. Randall's secret,

it may help us uncover who wants him dead.

- Great minds. I was thinking the exact same thing.

Meet me tonight at the Ashbury Hotel at eight p.m.

- Miss Longfellow-- - And don't be late!

- Miss Longfellow, what exactly is your--

- Shh-shh-shh!

Ta-da!

- I don't understand.

- Well, Mr. Randall's suite is right next door,

which gives us the perfect vantage to keep an eye...

...and an ear on him.

Go, have a listen!

These walls are surprisingly thin for such a fancy hotel.

- All I hear is tapping.

(typewriter clicking)

- Yes, Mr. Randall's typewriter, no doubt.

I'm sure we'll hear something telling sooner or later.

- That's if our theory is correct.

- No, no, no. I am certain he is Channing Brown.

And if today's accident was, in fact, on purpose

then the letter writer is intent to make good on his threats.

- But there's nothing to say that that will be tonight.

Or that the letter writer is aware

of Mr. Randall's new residence, for that matter.

- Well, do you want to take that chance?

- Well, your plan has some merit.

But we can't simply stay here all night

on the off chance that something should happen.

- Detective, we have to think of Mr. Randall's safety!

- I can post a constable to stand guard all night.

- Yes, all right. Fine.

But until then, whenever that is,

I'm going to make myself more comfortable.

And I think you should do the same.

(curious music)

- Miss Longfellow, what are you wearing?

- Oh, I thought we should play the part,

in case someone might see us.

- We're in a private room! Who's going to see us?

- Well, the hotel staff, for a start.

Oh. I ordered us room service.

- We are not on vacation.

- Speak for yourself.

We have to eat. Oh!

And the bellboy

might know something of Mr. Randall's secret.

(woman screams)

Detective?

Oh! That was incredible.

- What's happened?

- Wake up, my darling. Wake.

(gasps) Somebody's killed my Channing!

(sobbing)

- He was working on his novel

when I went to bathe at nine,

and when I came back, he was dead. Poor boy.

- A boy you knew as Channing Brown?

- How else would I know him?

I-is this all?

I-I'm eager to leave.

- Mrs. Gregoire, a man has been murdered.

This is a police investigation.

- One that I would rather not be dragged into

any more than necessary. You see,

my husband is a very public figure.

- Your husband?

- Wait, do you mean to say that your husband

is Arthur Gregoire,

the Archdeacon of Toronto?

- You see why I would appreciate

any discretion that you could offer.

(sighs)

- I'll expect you in my office first thing in the morning.

- Thank you, Detective. Good night.

- Sir.

Oh! Miss Longfellow. Pardon me.

Um, sir, a couple of things.

Ah, Miss Hart believes that Mr. Randall

was smothered in his sleep.

Also,

no hotel staff or guests

reported hearing anything out of the ordinary

prior to Miss Gregoire's scream.

- No, I wouldn't expect so.

We were right next door and we didn't hear so much as a peep.

- We?

As in, you and...?

- We were keeping an eye out

for Mr. Randall's safety, rightly so.

- I see.

- Maybe Mrs. Gregoire killed Randall.

- She's the only person known to be in the room.

- No. If she was the murderer

she wouldn't have called attention to herself

by screaming.

- Oh, yes, I suppose so.

What would an aspiring author need a ledger for?

- Oh, I can speak to that from experience.

As a writer, it's very important

to track your expenses.

- I don't believe that's what's happening here.

- What else would these names and dollar figures

be in reference to?

- I believe Mr. Randall was keeping track

of monies received from women, including Mrs. Gregoire.

- What would a woman like her be paying him f...

Oh.

Oh, I see.

(indistinct chatter)

- Ephraim Currant.

- Isaiah Buchanan.

- I see you've met Mr. Currant.

He's an acquaintance in the neighbourhood

and he's agreed to take over as management at the club.

- What? That's wonderful!

- You don't mind that I didn't

hire from one of the resumes you brought me?

- Not at all.

I can't pretend that I'm surprised.

You didn't seem keen when we discussed this earlier.

- I wasn't.

Well, at least not at first.

- Well, what changed your mind?

- Detective Murdoch, actually.

- Well,

cheers to Detective Murdoch. - Hm.

- What I don't understand. is how Mr. Randall

had the stamina for all these women.

- Oh, good! You're here.

- Perfect timing, George. What have you?

- Well, sir, I visited all the hotels

in Randall's ledger. It turns out

that he was indeed exchanging...

ah, companionship for money.

But Channing Brown

was not the only pseudonym he used.

- It wasn't? - No.

He also used the names

Darcy Tweddle, Stuart Power,

Manuel Stubbs,

Randall Flicker, and Chud Johnson.

- That explains it!

Last night I noticed that Mr. Randall

put initials next to each of the client's names

in his book.

They must represent the pseudonyms

that he uses with each of the clients!

- Sir, brilliant thinking.

And that certainly narrows down our suspect list.

- Right. Please arrange interviews

with each of the clients that knew him as Channing Brown.

- Sir, right away.

- Is it really the clients we should be looking into?

What about the jealous husbands like Mr. Gregoire?

- Are you suggesting the Archdeacon of Toronto

murdered Billy Randall?

- Surely just the thought of one's spouse

even considering cheating is enough

to make someone murderous.

- Hm.

Well, I won't rule out that possibility.

But it could just as easily be

one of Mr. Randall's clients who is our killer.

- What cause would one of his clients have to do such a thing?

- That's what I intend to uncover,

along with which, if any,

of the husbands knew of the affairs.

- You're not saying you intend

to conduct these interviews alone.

- I am. - But--

- These conversations will be delicate. It-it's for the best.

- Well, in that case,

perhaps I can go look into the husbands and try to see if--

- You will do no such thing.

You are to remain here at the station house.

- But, I was the-- - There's a killer on the loose,

Miss Longfellow. I will not have you in any danger.

Would you like some tea? - Yes, thank you.

- You stated that you were in the bath

from nine until ten p.m.

and that you didn't see or hear

anything amiss until you discovered the body.

- Yes. We went over this last night.

- I'm simply ensuring that I have all of the facts.

- Hm.

- Now, I presume that the Archdeacon

was unaware of your relations with the victim.

- One should never presume, Detective.

Arthur and I love each other very much,

but our love no longer extends to the physical.

And as such,

I am free to have those needs met elsewhere.

- If I may? - Mm.

- How do you reconcile this arrangement with your faith?

- Our arrangement,

as unusual as it is,

allows us to remain freely and happily committed

to one another.

And isn't that the very heart of the marriage covenant?

- You simply must find the scoundrel

who did this to poor dear Billy.

- That's what I wanted to speak with you about

and you'll have to pardon the blunt questions,

but, uh...

were you just Mr. Randall's benefactress?

- You want to know if we were lovers.

- I do.

- We were.

- And it didn't bother you

that he had other sources of income?

- Not a whit.

What Billy and I have...

had went far beyond the tawdry relations

he had with those other women.

- Did your husband know the depth of the relationship

you had with Mr. Randall?

- Certainly not.

(sighs) - Oh, this is just mortifying.

My liaison with Mr. Brown

was the biggest mistake of my life.

- It was not ongoing?

- No! I ended things months ago.

So why am I here?

- Your name was on one of Mr. Brown's client lists,

Mrs. Campbell.

- Am I to be charged with a crime?

- Not for the affair, no.

But there is the matter of the murder

of the man you knew as Channing Brown.

- Channing was killed?

- Mm. After receiving numerous threats.

- Oh! How... awful.

You don't think I had anything to do with this, I hope.

- That's what I aim to ascertain.

- Of course I didn't!

All I wanted was to put this whole thing behind me.

I love my husband, Detective.

- What of your husband?

Was he aware of your liaison?

- Gavin is a jealous man.

If he'd discovered my secret,

I wouldn't be sitting here with you today.

(curious music)

- What is he doing in there?

Where's he going?

Oh! Uh.

- Good Lord!

Miss Longfellow, what on Earth are you doing?

- This could be evidence.

Collected it from the husband of one of Mr. Randall's clients.

- I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?

- I was just saying something strange did happen

one evening when Channing and I were out together.

- Go on. - It was several months ago.

A man marched right up to Channing

and punched him in the face.

Said he had driven his wife to her death.

- You lied to me, Mr. Etter.

You told me you had never met Channing Brown.

- I'm sorry.

I was embarrassed to admit the true reason

my wife chose to end her life.

- Just what was it about Mr. Brown

that drove your wife to suicide?

- She was...

hopelessly in love with him.

But all he cared about was the money she gave him.

In the end, it got to be too much for her.

- So you attacked him in the street?

- I punched him, yes.

But I didn't write him those notes.

And I didn't kill him.

(knocking at door)

- Excuse me.

- Sir, I'm sorry for the interruption,

but I just took a statement from a witness

to the car accident who gave me a partial license.

- Matching Mr. Etter's vehicle?

- No, sir. Matching Gavin Campbell's vehicle.

- And I found this in Gavin Campbell's trash.

- "Enjoy your last few days."

It's a match to the final threat.

- What's going on? - It's police business,

Mrs. Campbell. Step aside.

- Please don't tell Gavin about my affair.

He'll never forgive me.

- Oh, I believe he already knows.

Gavin Campbell,

you are under arrest

on suspicion of the murder of Billy Randall,

also known as Channing Brown.

- This is absurd! I'm no killer!

- Mr. Campbell, you have no alibi

for Mr. Randall's murder,

nor the earlier attempt on his life.

- That doesn't make me guilty!

- Were you aware of your wife's affair?

- Don't answer that.

A partial license plate and five words

on a typewriter ribbon is not sufficient cause

to hold my client.

Let's go, Mr. Campbell. - We are not finished here.

- We are. And if you or any other member of the constabulary

wish to question my client again,

you'll need to do so with me present.

- Well, did he confess?

- No. He left after insisting upon his innocence.

- No. But it's plain as day that he killed Mr. Randall.

- Well, sometimes plain as day isn't sufficient.

We need more evidence.

- What we need is a confession.

(whistling)

- Mr. Currant.

Did everything go well after I left last night?

- Usual crops of troublemakers, but nothing I couldn't handle.

- Glad to hear it.

Now, shall we talk about the real reason I hired you?

- Thought you'd never ask.

- You've heard about the violence

perpetrated by Tony Petrucci?

- Experienced it firsthand.

Last bar I managed got firebombed

when the owner refused to pay a protection fee

to Petrucci's thugs. - How awful.

It's just a mess.

One I'd like us to clean up together.

- How do you propose we do that?

- By starting a program to help businesses keep safe

from Petrucci and men like him.

- Hm. I can see the appeal,

especially given your connections in the constabulary.

- Yes. Well, my position, I think,

will make people eager to participate.

But this is separate from that.

Entirely so.

We can't count on the police for everything.

- Don't I know it.

This new program...

I'm guessing it won't be free for folks to join.

- A small fee would only be fair, I think,

given the amount of work it will take.

- There's my girl.

Ready for dinner? - Yes. Just finishing up here.

Are we in agreement, Mr. Currant?

- We are, Miss Hart.

- Wonderful.

- What did you say your name was?

- Iris Cooke. I work for your lawyer.

- Mr. Pullman.

- Right. I just came by to pick up some paperwork.

- I-I delivered everything this afternoon.

- Oh, yes! That's right.

Right! We must have gotten our wires crossed.

- Well, you came all this way.

Least I can do is offer you a drink.

- You could probably use one yourself

after the day you've had.

(sighs) - It was a difficult day.

- For what it's worth, I think the law

should be amended to exclude murder

committed as a result of infidelity.

Because you must have been just furious

when you discovered your wife's affair.

- Not at all. - Oh?

- It gave me the freedom to pursue my own desires.

- Oh.

Oh! Oh, I see.

So you didn't kill anyone?

(scoffs) - Of course not.

I'm all about love, Miss Cooke.

- Right, right. But what about

the typewriter ribbon and-and your car and--

If you didn't kill Billy Randall, someone else

living in this house definitely did.

- Well, aren't you just the cleverest?

- Anna.

What did you do? - She killed Billy Randall. Why?

- Because he left me, that's why.

And I am not a woman who gets left.

Calling your detective friend? I don't think so.

- What are you doing?

- Making sure she keeps my secret.

(whimpering) - Stop!

- Oh! Oh!

- It's over, Mrs. Campbell.

- I had nothing to do with this.

- George! - Not so fast, Mr. Campbell.

- Oh, no, you don't!

(grunting)

- Well done, Miss Longfellow.

- What a night.

- What a pair of nights.

- My goodness, this has been fun.

But, you know, there is one thing

that I still haven't figured out.

- What's that?

- Well, how did you know that I was in danger?

- I had Constable Crabtree keep an eye on you

after your afternoon adventure of evidence gathering.

- I don't know whether to be offended or touched.

- While you take a moment to consider that, uh,

thank you.

You saved my life.

If you'd acted just a moment later--

- Oh, no, no, no.

I-I don't think I could bear the thought.

(soft music)

(gunshot)

Was that a gunshot?

(George): Detective! - George!

- Sir, come back.

- Mrs. Medland, put the gun down.

- She's dead?

What did you do?

- I gave her what she deserved for killing my Billy.

(gasping)

And now you can do with me what you will.

- You'll be heading straight to our cells, for a start.

- Take back what I said about this being fun.

- Yes, this sort of scene does tend to have that effect.

- Sir! You're up and out early.

- Morning. Yes, uh, planning to get an early start

on the paperwork for Mrs. Medland's arraignment.

- Good thinking. Early bird and all of that.

Sir, I've been meaning to ask how you're feeling

with Dr. Ogden insisting that you remain in Toronto?

- Oh, to be honest I haven't given it much thought

with all the excitement of the past few days.

- Oh.

- That surprises you?

- I've just never known you to be quite that lost

in your work, sir.

- George, have I told you how glad I am to have you back?

- Always nice to hear it again.

- The truth is I miss Julia and Susannah terribly.

But Julia's right: my work is here.

- Indeed, sir. And it sounds like

she's flourishing in London.

- She and Susannah both!

It's an impossible situation.

But I know who my heart is with

and we will find a way to make it work.

- Very good, sir.

(soft music)

- Miss Longfellow. - Detective Murdoch.

(theme music)

Subtitling: difuze