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You got it?

I'm not being unreasonable.

I just don't like him.

Yes, you've said.

And it's not just cause he took my job.

Charlie, at risk of repeating myself,

it wasn't officially your job. You were only...

Acting Detective Inspector, yeah, yeah, I know.

It's got nothing to do with that.

Really?

I'm allowed to dislike people, you know.

Especially when they take my job.

Morning, Inspector.

Good morning.

- Are we ready? - Yes, Inspector Blake.

All right, let's go.

Police! Open the door!

Go on then.

Wait.

Always best to check.

Spread out.

Two men to a room.

Here we go, let's go in there. Let's go.

I don't care what you say, I think he's impressive.

Course you do.

Did you know he spent two years

in Hong Kong?

He speaks fluent Mandarin.

Oh, and that'll come in useful.

And I believe he's served in many different parts

- of the world. And... - Stop.

What is it?

Nothing.

I just want you to stop talking.

Now, come on you lot, hurry up.

Stop faffing about and keep looking.

Mind yourself, Patrick.

Why don't you do as you're told?

We've searched the premises, Sir.

I'm afraid we can find no one...

Shh.

Wait here.

Police, stop where you are!

Miss Scarlet.

Inspector Blake.

I can explain.

Seal off the front of the building and send word

for the photographer.

Yes, Sir.

So, can I explain myself now?

I don't know. Can you?

Before I begin, I'd like you to keep an open mind.

What I'm about to tell you will help you solve the murder.

Miss Scarlet...

we've known each other

for less than two weeks, and in that brief

period of time, I have made it abundantly clear

that I do not need your help.

Really?

So, you notice that the victim's body

is in the second stage of rigor mortis, suggesting...

A time of death between two o'clock and six o'clock

this morning, yes, I noticed.

And the lack of defence wounds on his arms?

Suggest a sudden attack rather than a prolonged struggle,

this I already know.

What I don't know is how you

ended up in a locked room

with a dead man.

It's... complicated.

Eliza Scarlet, I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder.

All right, all right. It's not that complicated.

I know his name.

The dead man.

And I don't think you do.

I thought not. I also know

who put that knife in his chest

and will gladly tell you here and now,

but if you insist on wasting time

by taking me to Scotland Yard,

logging my arrest with the duty sergeant,

putting me in a cell until you can find

an available interview room,

then please be my guest.

Start at the beginning, every detail,

no matter how small.

It all began a month ago.

This is before you'd taken up your current position.

Things had been going well for my agency,

both in terms of quantity and quality of cases.

Extremely well, actually.

As such, I was able to rehire a former associate,

a chartered accountant with an unrivaled knowledge

of civil and criminal law.

My esteemed colleague, Mr. Clarence Pettigrew,

alongside a variety of private clients,

we'd also been enjoying the patronage of Scotland Yard,

thanks to an ongoing relationship

with Detective Phelps.

Miss Scarlet, Clarence!

I do hope I'm not interrupting,

but I require your help on a most intriguing case.

One that is tailor-made for your extraordinary talent.

- Stop right there. - What?

I'm quite sure Detective Phelps

has never been that polite to anyone.

Not even his own mother.

And as for your... esteemed colleague,

Mr. Clarence Pettigrew, he's a convicted felon

who served 18 months for fraud.

I believe everyone deserves a second chance.

As do I.

So, please, begin again, and this time

with the actual truth.

Not some version of it designed to paint you

in a favorable light.

I resent the accusation.

Mm.

Very well. Although, for the record,

Mr. Pettigrew and I were at work,

and we did receive a visit

from Detective Phelps.

Although I may have overplayed the lightness of his mood.

Right, shut up and listen.

I don't want to be here any longer than I have to.

I've got five men off sick, twice the normal caseload,

and I've not slept in a week cause my missus

has just given birth.

- Again. - May I offer my congratulations?

Only if you want a slap.

This is yours, if you want it.

Er, you... you wish to hire us?

If you ask me, it's a wild goose chase.

Total waste of time.

But it's one more thing to get off my desk.

How much is this?

Lord Spencer Bowden, 4th Earl of Cheshire.

He went missing some 12 years ago

after being accused of murdering his lover.

I remember this.

This was quite the scandal

at the time.

The newspapers ran with it

for weeks.

She was his housemaid,

wasn't she?

He stabbed her through the heart.

Warrants were issued for his arrest,

but he was never found.

Well, a man with that kind of money

can disappear off the face of the earth.

There have been sightings of him

from Edinburgh

to Cornwall.

Even the West Indies and Canada,

but nothing that has resulted

- in an arrest. - So, what's changed?

Well, apparently he's been spotted again.

- This time in London. - Well, if he's evaded capture

this long, he may well be moving his money

across international borders.

I'll see if I can find a trail.

I'll pay a visit to our eyewitness,

Amelia Bowden.

His wife?

His daughter.

Here!

I had hoped to receive a visit

from the police themselves.

My agency has been hired by Scotland Yard.

But I... I assure you we work

to the highest professional standards.

I suppose you cannot do any worse.

It has been 12 years since Edith was murdered,

and the police have still not found my father.

Edith was your housemaid?

I'm sure you know the whole depraved story...

just like the rest of the world.

Do you believe your father's guilty?

I do.

That man caused so much pain to so many.

His actions drove my poor mother to an early grave.

God rest her soul.

Forgive me.

There's no need to apologize, Miss Bowden.

You filed a report with the police a few days ago

saying that you'd seen your father?

It was Sunday morning.

I was leaving the house

to attend a sermon at St. Luke's

when I saw him...

right across the street.

Our eyes met for a brief moment.

I was overcome by... anger,

and I cannot deny a little fear.

I came inside to regain my composure, but...

when I looked again from the drawing room window,

he had gone.

And you're sure it was him?

He is my father, Miss Scarlet, I am sure.

And have you had any other contact with him

in the time that he's been missing?

There have been letters

asking for money,

but they were fraudulent.

Pretending to be my father.

His notoriety is widespread,

as is the shame he has brought on our family.

He made us pariahs,

destroyed our name, our reputation.

You must find him...

before he does more harm.

I thought shepherd's pie for tea.

Fine, I'll talk to myself, then.

How are you, Ivy? A bit tired, actually.

Been on my feet all day, but thanks for asking.

Sorry.

I was miles away.

Yes, I gathered that.

So, shepherd's pie?

Mmm...

You're more than welcome

to make something else.

That'd be lovely, thank you.

Oh, I almost forgot.

This came for you today.

Postmark's from New York.

Well, aren't you going to read it?

Yes.

In private.

Very well.

Mm.

I fail to see the relevance of this.

Well, you... you asked for every detail.

Every detail related to the case.

What has this letter to do with anything?

Well, the letter was from your predecessor,

Inspector Wellington.

In it, he stated that he'd been

offered a permanent position

in the New York Police Department,

and with it a promotion

to superintendent.

A position he'd never be offered in London, so...

it was good news, indeed.

Why was he writing to you?

Well, we're, um...

we're old friends,

which was why I was so pleased for him.

In fact, I was more than pleased for him.

I was delighted.

I don't believe you.

Well, Inspector Wellington and I are old friends.

Of course, I was delighted for him.

I don't believe you know anything

that can help with this investigation.

I...

I think you're stalling for time.

I'm not entirely sure why... yet.

Right, I'm taking you to Scotland Yard. We'll start with

obstruction of justice and go from there.

The dead man's name is Jonathan Harbourne.

He lives at 215 Cable Street.

If you send someone to that address,

you'll find proof of his identity.

215 Cable Street?

- Hmm. - Detective Fitzroy.

Sir.

I need you to go straight to this address.

- Yes, Sir. - Take Irwin and Phelps with you

and report back immediately with your findings.

Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.

Oh, Lizzie.

I wish there was something I could say

to make you feel better.

There's... there's nothing to say.

He's not coming back.

Oh.

Do you remember what your father used to say?

Only hopeless people cry.

And you're not without hope, Lizzie.

You've a whole future ahead of you.

He always used to say that,

no more tears or there'd be no supper.

But there always was.

Oh, Lizzie.

Come.

Shh.

Shh.

Shh.

Oh.

Clarence, I thought you had the day off.

Ah, uh, yes, I... I had, uh, planned to,

but, uh, circumstances change,

as they are wont to do.

Is everything all right?

I heard the news about Inspector Wellington,

and, um, I thought that today of all days

was not the time for you to be in the office alone.

Ivy's spoken to you.

- Clarence, I'm perfectly well... - Yes, yes, yes.

You always say that you are fine, but...

we both know that that is not true.

Uh, and so, I've given this a great deal of thought,

and it is my belief that at this moment in time

company may be of some degree of comfort to you.

Quiet, possibly even silent company,

since I am a man who is at a loss

to know what to say when it comes to

matters of the heart.

In... in fact, I... I'm rather out of my depth

even expressing this much.

Well... in that case, thank you, Clarence.

And there was something I wanted to talk to you about.

Oh, God.

It's not that.

It's about Detective Phelps.

He hired us to work the Bowden case,

but he was only over a temporary appointment.

And now that Inspector Wellington

will not be returning, it's my belief

that Charlie Phelps will be replaced by

- a permanent candidate. - And you worry that the new man

will take us off the case?

Exactly.

So, we need to find out

who's going to replace Phelps,

but who might know that?

I can think of one person.

Still can't believe you're allowed to use this office.

Well, I'm not exactly allowed.

In fact, the Governor has no idea.

It's through a little financial arrangement

I have with a warden here.

You have a warden in your pay?

You could go to prison for that, Patrick.

So, how are you, Eliza?

I'm here because

I need your brain.

Hmm. My brain is always at your disposal.

You know that.

Inspector Wellington won't be returning from New York.

So I hear.

And I, uh, well...

I wish to know who will be

his permanent replacement?

I doubt very much it'll be Phelps.

Your instincts are correct.

Hmm?

The smart money is on a detective inspector

from Bristol...

by the name of Alexander Blake.

Not too much is known about him,

but he has an excellent reputation.

Hard-working. Honest.

All the worst things a man can be.

He's ex-army... officer,

served all around the Empire.

Oh, and there's something else.

- Something you will not like. - Go on.

He doesn't use private detectives.

He halved the crime rate in Bristol

just by using his own men.

Saved the city a fortune, so, you can see why

the commissioner likes him. Still...

if anyone can change his mind...

Well, I'll see what I can do.

That was most helpful. Thank you, Patrick.

Mm.

He asked you to join him in New York,

didn't he?

Your inspector.

But if you'd gone, it would have been as his wife.

A superintendent can't have a wife

who's a private detective.

You'd have been forced to give up everything

you've worked so hard for.

If you know so much, why are you in prison?

It's a question I ask myself every day.

I sent Detective Fitzroy to the dead man's house.

Is there anyone else at those premises

that could pose a threat?

No.

Not that I'm aware of.

You were telling me of Inspector Wellington's departure

and how it connects to this case?

I was, uh, contracted by Detective Phelps

to find the fugitive, Lord Bowden,

and then when Detective Phelps was replaced by you,

I wished to know if that contract was still valid,

which is why I came to see you at Scotland Yard.

I assume you remember?

Oh, I remember.

- Oh, good morning, Eliza. - Good morning.

I trust you are well?

- I'm quite well, thank you. - What brings you here?

Oh, I wish to see Inspector Blake.

I believe he begins work today.

Yes, that's correct.

Um, just before you go in...

Oliver, please.

I will miss Inspector Wellington.

I will miss him very much, as I'm sure you will too.

But... he's made his decision to stay in New York

and we must respect that.

I thank you for your kindness, but as I said,

I'm... I'm quite well.

I... I was actually just going to say, In...

Inspector Blake is in a different office.

You'll find it upstairs on the first floor.

Oh.

Er, well. Thank you.

Oh, um... Inspector Blake, I presume.

May I congratulate you

on your new position?

From what I hear, it's well deserved.

And... you are?

My name's Miss Eliza Scarlet.

I've come to update you on the Lord Bowden case.

I was hired by Scotland Yard to investigate the recent sighting.

You work for a detective agency?

I own a detective agency.

And I thought this might be a good opportunity

to outline the history of my working relationship

with your predecessors.

In here are, uh, numerous case reports,

letters of reference,

and, as you see, newspaper clippings

showing the, uh, investigations that I've helped to solve.

I'm afraid you're wasting your time.

I do not engage the services

of private detectives.

Well, may I at least present the progress I've made

on the Bowden case?

There is no need.

My officers will deal with it.

However, if you have a contract,

you will be paid for your work so far.

But that is all.

Good day.

I'm sure it would take anyone

time to understand the unique challenges

that this city presents, so...

while you're finding your feet,

why not turn to those who've been working here

for some time?

That is a fair point,

and I will take it under consideration.

Should I change my mind, I will contact you immediately.

Are you just saying that so that I leave?

Yes.

Miss...

Scarlet... as I've already said.

Miss Scarlet, I have found, through bitter experience,

that private investigators do not compare

to professional police officers.

I do not trust them,

I do not use them,

I do not need them.

It's not my intention to be rude.

Yet you're doing a wonderful job of it.

Please shut the door on the way out.

Yes, as first visits go, I must confess it was not ideal.

Not unless you planned to irritate and insult me.

- I didn't insult you. - My mistake, it must have been

the other female detective

I spoke to that day.

I assume there's a reason you're telling me all this,

given I was present.

I severed your contract

so you were determined to find a clue

that proved I'd been short-sighted

and would be compelled to rehire you

on the case?

Something like that.

Go on.

The day after we met, I went to, uh,

visit Amelia Bowden again,

which is when I learned about the break-in.

When did this happen?

Last night.

I came home to find the house

had been ransacked.

I have been waiting for the police all morning,

but they are yet to arrive.

What's been taken?

Oh, family silver, jewelry,

works of art, all gone.

He even took my mother's wedding ring.

He?

My father.

This is why he came back.

He has no doubt run out of money

and now has to resort to stealing

from his own flesh and blood.

Are you sure it was your father?

There is a safe in what used to be his study.

It was opened using the combination lock.

You said you were out

at the time of the robbery.

Were your servants not at home?

These days I have only a single housemaid.

She does not wish to live on the premises.

She's superstitious.

My father committed murder in the servant's bedroom.

List of stolen items,

some, uh, family silver, jewelry,

artwork by Gainsborough.

Hm.

Let's head back to the office.

Work out our next steps. We need a plan.

There's nothing I like more than a plan.

You and me both, Clarence.

That and a good to-do list.

Oh, yes. That too.

So, poor Bowden needs money quickly.

We could, uh, make enquiries at the less salubrious end

of the pawnshop market.

Poor Bowden won't go to any pawnshop.

He needs serious money.

The pawnshop will offer you a fifth of the face value,

and that's if you're lucky.

But there are places

he could get a lot more.

And you know of such a place?

I might, but... well, it's not the kind of place

I'm used to going to personally.

I'm sure it'll be fine. How bad can it be?

A client of Mr. Nash told me about this place.

I didn't realize it was quite so earthy.

There is a coded message we need to give

in order to gain entry.

I think I can remember it.

You think?

Good evening.

I'm a friend of Wang Zhenglin,

and I have a gift for his daughter.

Not his daughter.

His sister.

His aunt.

Uh, this should be enough for the whole family.

Very fetching.

Shall we?

It's what you might call a specialist auction.

No questions asked of buyers or sellers.

And the clientele have some serious money.

If I were Lord Bowden, this is where I'd come.

Even with the masks, it's an awful risk

for him to show up in person.

Unless he's desperate.

Do you have a photograph?

No, not a recent one.

He's been gone for 12 years.

Makes a nice change from being in the office, doesn't it?

I must confess I'm enjoying it

rather more than I thought I would.

Shh, shh, shh.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,

and thank you for coming to what may be

our most intriguing event for some time.

Let us begin with lot number one.

Lot 14 is at £120.

Any more?

Sold for £120.

That's 14 lots. Still nothing.

What if Lord Bowden hasn't even heard of this place?

If nothing turns up, maybe we should go and talk

to the auctioneer, see what he knows.

That's an excellent idea, Clarence.

- Really? - Hm.

Thank you, Eliza.

Next, we come to lot 15,

an exquisite solid silver

Robert Kane carving set

with an array of jewelry

with verified artwork

from Mr. Thomas Gainsborough.

Lady Bowden said some of the pieces stolen

were by Gainsborough, this could be it.

Due to the unique nature of these items,

the bidding will open at £600.

600.

Thank you, Sir.

Any more for 600?

605.

If he's here, he may give himself away.

610.

615.

- 615. - Clarence.

- Is that him? - I'm not sure,

but he does look familiar,

- even with the mask. - 625.

There's something about him.

Can we do any more?

- I can't put my finger on it. - Any more for 625?

640.

- 640. - There. See?

- See what exactly? - He's involved in this,

- I can sense it. - Any more?

Watch his reaction when the bidding goes up.

- 700. - 700.

Any more? £700.

Any more on 700?

Going once.

Going twice.

- 750. - What are you doing?

There, see.

A most generous offer from the lady at the back.

750.

Do I hear 760?

May I ask a question?

Yes.

What happens if you win?

The bidding is at 750

from the lady at the back. 750.

Going once.

Going twice.

Sold to the lady at the back.

Well done, well done.

I take it you don't have £750 on you?

Not exactly.

Police! Stop!

Stop!

Who the hell are you?

I could ask you the same question.

- No, no, no, please. - Come on.

I can explain.

You're making a mistake. I'm working for Scotland Yard.

I shouldn't be here.

Mm.

Put them in the wagon.

Take them to Scotland Yard.

Yes, Sir.

Seriously.

Sir!

Yes?

Miss Scarlet.

What are you doing here?

Well, the same as you, no doubt.

But I now have information

that's vital to this case.

Which is?

I just don't feel inclined to share it.

Not unless you honor our original agreement

and hire my agency.

- That's blackmail. - That's business.

Not for you, it isn't.

The man who was here to sell the stolen goods...

It wasn't Lord Bowden.

Did you see him?

Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn't.

The man I saw run away isn't any of these.

Are you sure?

Certain.

I did recognize him, I just wish I could remember

from where.

You're persistent, Miss Scarlet,

I'll give you that.

Even your compliments sound like insults.

It's quite a skill.

Can I ask you something?

Why don't I hire private detectives?

I have had numerous bad experiences

over the years.

I hired one firm who were working for myself

and the criminals I was investigating.

Another had found key evidence

and withheld it for weeks

to bump up their final fee.

I could give you countless other examples,

but the point is

I do not respect the profession.

There are exceptions in every line of work.

Such as yourself?

There's much about me that you don't know.

I know enough.

And what have you gleaned

from the two occasions

that we've met?

That you're ambitious and determined.

You'd have to be to get this far.

You believe the ends justify the means,

and as such you're willing to bend the truth

to get what you want.

And on the frequent occasions

when you do lie,

you give yourself away

with a distinct tell.

I do not have a tell.

You affect a frown before you speak.

As if you were lost in thought.

Searching for the right turn of phrase,

when in fact you know exactly

what it is you're going to say.

Interesting.

Wrong.

But interesting.

Anything else?

The pockets on the side of your dress,

you use them as a psychological crutch.

When you stand with your hands inside them

as a man might,

it projects an outer confidence,

which often you do not feel on the inside.

Hmm.

You'll allow me to reply in kind?

Be my guest.

You moved your office from downstairs.

It's a simple but effective show of dominance,

making people have to walk upstairs to see you.

Dominance?

Mr. Darwin would be impressed.

But sadly you're wrong. No, I...

I just prefer the view from here.

You can see the Thames and St. Paul's.

You have an impressive array of classic novels.

Dickens, Hardy, Tolstoy.

From the pristine condition of the covers,

I say that you don't return to them often.

You read for self-improvement, not for pleasure.

With one exception.

Treasure Island.

Clearly a favored tome, suggesting a hidden desire for

adventure and escapism.

That's not mine.

Have I offended in some way?

I don't think anything I said was...

Go through the mug shots again from the beginning.

You may have missed something.

But the man I saw isn't in there, I'm certain.

Then we have no further business.

Good night, Miss Scarlet.

After the rather unceremonious way you bid me good night,

I went back to my office to consult the Bowden file.

I felt sure I was missing something,

and, indeed, I was.

The man we were trying to identify that night

is the same man who lies dead upstairs

- with a knife in his heart. - Jonathan Harbourne.

There's a reason why I couldn't find him

amongst your mug shots.

He had no criminal record,

but now I know where I've seen him before.

He was in the case file.

Jonathan Harbourne was Lord Bowden's valet.

When Detective Fitzroy returns,

no doubt he'll confirm it.

There are photographs and correspondence

between the two men at Harbourne's house.

But, um, in the meantime,

I imagine you'd like to know who the killer is.

Shall we?

Come along.

After the murder of their housemaid,

Lord Bowden fled,

taking most of his fortune with him.

His wife and daughter were forced to dismiss

most of their servants, including...

Jonathan Harbourne.

How did you know he was here?

Well, my colleague, Clarence,

was also at the underground auction

when you carried out your raid.

Argh! All right, all right.

He was able to escape by a side exit.

And when he found himself outside,

he saw Jonathan Harbourne running off.

He followed him to that address at Cable Street.

The same address that I gave you earlier.

On searching that property, we found details

of this abandoned building.

I assume it was his backup plan,

should he need somewhere to hide.

All of which led us here...

where we found him dead.

The knife...

you will have noticed, is made of pure silver.

The hallmark on the side reads,

City of London, 1836,

Robert Kane, a well-renowned silversmith.

Does that hallmark sound familiar to you?

It matches the dining set stolen from

the Bowden residence.

Stolen items that were never sold,

thanks to the raid you carried out

at the auction.

The silver dining set, the jewelry,

everything was returned to its original owner.

Amelia Bowden.

She arranged for Harbourne to burgle her house.

Presumably he'd be paid from the auction proceeds.

I can only imagine that they fell out somehow.

Perhaps he was blackmailing her.

But it was Amelia Bowden

who thrust that knife into his chest.

I don't believe that her father had anything to do with this.

I suspect she used his name as a smokescreen

to hide her own involvement.

My colleague, Clarence, left here shortly before you arrived.

He hired two associates who are more versed

in the physical side of our business,

and by now they will have

apprehended Miss Bowden

and taken her to Scotland Yard.

In fact, they may even be there already,

so, we should make our way back there now.

I assume you have a carriage outside?

Amelia Bowden is indeed at Scotland Yard, but...

but she did not arrive with your Mr. Pettigrew.

I arrested her at six o'clock this morning,

two hours before I came here.

What?

Allow me to explain.

Move!

After the raid on the auction,

the question was who to interview first.

Thank you, Sergeant.

As I'm sure you know, some men will not talk

no matter what they're threatened with.

You can waste hours and days only to be met

with a wall of silence.

But there are others who would sell

their own children

to stay out of prison.

I shouldn't be here.

Him.

I often find the way to make people talk

is to do very little talking myself.

I don't know anything about Lord Bowden.

All... all... all the sellers at the auction are anonymous.

Er, well, we give them numbers, of course, so...

So, all I know is the man you're looking for is number 15.

I wish I could be more... more helpful, I really do,

but that... that's all I know.

I suppose there are some people I could ask.

I will make some inquiries

and come back next week.

In a few days?

Tomorrow night?

That would be most appreciated.

Uh, all right, but... but not here.

My life would not be worth living

if people knew I was a snitch.

Mr. Grint arranged to meet me

the following night in a local public house,

where the beer is most certainly watered down.

He had made contact with the man in question.

You sure it was him?

Where did you find him?

No, he found me.

He... he wanted to know when the next auction was.

He said he had more things to sell.

So, I told him in a month or so.

Did he give a name?

No, but...

whilst we were talking,

we were interrupted by a lady.

Well-spoken, rich.

She said she'd followed him.

She was quite upset and angry,

but they didn't want to... they didn't want to speak

in front of me, so they went outside.

But I followed them.

And?

And they were arguing.

She accused him of stealing her things

and demanded them back.

She said the agreement was off.

Well, the man just laughed

and said that he was going to sell them,

whether she liked it or not.

But this time, he was gon...

he was gonna keep all the money to himself,

and there was nothing she could do about it.

Can you describe this woman?

It was a Amelia Bowden.

Which also matched up with my other line of inquiry.

One which I'm certain your Mr. Pettigrew

would have discovered.

What, that she recently renewed

her insurance policy for three times

the previous value?

The police raid on the auction meant Miss Bowden

received all her possessions back,

but Harbourne wasn't happy

that their deal hadn't come to fruition,

so, he stole them from her again to sell elsewhere.

And like he said, this time he intended

to keep all the money himself.

But Miss Bowden got her revenge.

We raided her house at dawn.

The housemaid told us

she'd been out late last night

and had come back in an agitated state.

Sir.

A pair of bloodied gloves

were found at her property.

She was arrested and taken straight to Scotland Yard.

How did you find out about this place?

She confessed?

Hasn't said a word.

There's a hackney carriage stand

around the corner from her home.

We spoke to a driver

who picked her up late last night.

He told us about this address.

Miss Bowden knew Harbourne used this place to hide stolen goods,

so, she came here to find him and...

Well, the rest you know.

I take it you closed the door to the attic

to delay my finding you?

Well, I... I had hoped to give Clarence a head start,

but now I realize it was all a waste of time.

Not completely.

I didn't know the identity

of Jonathan Harbourne.

You'd have found out soon enough.

Perhaps.

What happens now, will I be charged

with obstruction of justice?

There will be no charge... this time.

Sir.

Right, this side first, please.

Let me know if you need more light.

There are details on the murder weapon

that need to be clear.

If you wouldn't mind.

Ivy?

Ivy?

I see more of you now than I did

when I was a free man.

Surely you have better places to be.

Sadly not.

Well, I was supposed to be playing poker

with a rather odd fellow on D-block.

Although probably best to cancel.

I'm not entirely sure what he's in for.

I heard about the Bowden investigation.

Is that what's troubling you?

There'll be other cases.

You'll get by, you always do.

I'm not interested in getting by.

Getting by isn't enough, not anymore.

It needs to have been worthwhile.

What does?

All of it, Patrick.

If I have to live a life alone, then...

I need to excel in my chosen profession

and have some lasting success.

Otherwise, what has it all been for?

I know what you're going to say.

- You do? - Well, there are plenty of

married people with families

who are also lonely.

Well, I wasn't going to say that,

but it is a valid point.

The journey to success will always be

more fulfilling than reaching the destination.

I wasn't going to say that either,

but I really wish I had.

I probably shouldn't think about it too much

'cause no one is satisfied all the time.

I really do need to start writing this down.

What were you going to say, then?

That perhaps you should set your sights

on short-term goals.

Such as?

Getting drunk and playing poker.

Is that the best you have to offer?

You might win.

Only if you let me shuffle the deck.

Are you insinuating that I would cheat somehow?

Yes, Patrick. Yes, I am.

Hmm.

Oh.