All language subtitles for Ripper.street.S04E06.BluRay.x264-MAYHEM-TURMOiL.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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The rabbi Leon Ratovski
visited London from Paris.

Isaac Bloom killed him in a Whitechapel
lane-way and will hang for it.

Those are bite marks, Reid,
flesh torn out with teeth.

- This is a human bite mark.
- And this is the animal hair

that I took from where Gower
was found. It's a timber wolf.

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

Susan Hart
is about her evil once more.

- Rose, you will stop this now!
- No!

Just try and make me, Bennet Drake!

Tell me
what our eyes now see here.

What has been done to this man?

Quid pro quo.

- The last definite death by my hand.
- And who he?

My father.

No.

No!

Oh!

Wanted to say good night.

Mm. Who am I?

- The sandman, Pappy.
- Yeah, and what do I bring?

- Sweet dreams.
- Yeah, well, take 'em and sleep.

Say good night to our guest.

- Good night, Mr Bennet.
- Go now.

Do not wake me when you come, Don.

Well...

I would not bank on it, woman.

Ohh...

It is a thing to be happy, Don.

It is.

- And you are.
- I am.

There's no secret to it, Ben.

There is only this.

Do not care for aught
but what you may throw your arms about.

Decide who that may be.
Forget what remains beyond.

That is no counsel for a copper.

I never said it was.

It is counsel for a man, however...

...who would know what life is,
not the other.

Ripped & Corrected By mstoll

See, my darling,

how we all like to feel
a man in uniform beneath us!

Do you blush on my account, Drum?

It is coarse.

And you are about as far from coarse
as a man might imagine, Tilda.

You know, Drum, you must not make
a princess out of me.

But that is the way I feel about you,
however, Tilda.

A princess to me.

Then you must stop.

There is something I have learned,

and learned to my cost,
Samuel Drummond.

It is that life is not a fairy tale,

and that those who seek to
make it one too often do so

for the real and felt unhappiness
of their actual lives.

- Do you understand?
- I am not unhappy, Mathilda.

I could make you so, however.

I could make you so, and fast.

There are no princesses and no monsters.

Only humans.

Their flesh and bones
and all-too-broken hearts.

I am fond of you because you are real.

And I cannot find anything
hidden or broken about you.

You must be fond of me,
because I, too, am real.

Do you see?

I do.

Real.

Morning edition of
the Star newspaper, sir. Thank you.

Paper!

Whitechapel beast slays again.

Jewish immigrant murdered.

Thank you, sir.

Paper! Paper!

Jewish immigrant murdered.

Where is she?

- Excuse me, sir...
- Sit!

I should have known.

Edmund Reid betrays his badge,
his uniform, his brother men.

No, I told you, Inspector Drake,
and you would not hear it from me.

I will not stand idle
whilst Whitechapel falls beneath terror.

A terror in which I believe Assistant
Commissioner Dove to be implicated.

Now, this will break him from his cover.

And break our good name alongside...

Our good name be damned.

Miss Castello, will you show him?

Here.
You may recognise Leon Ratovski.

This image recorded the day he led
his people out of the Russian Empire.

What are these? Towns? Villages?

They are shtetl.

They are the towns and villages

where the Jewish people of Russia
were tolerated to live...for a while.

Until living there became intolerable.

These,then,
their journeys as they fled.

Those that made their eventual way
to London.

Go on.

I first heard the name Ratovski
two years ago

from one who followed him.

A woman,

the only surviving member of her family
to have reached London.

And though her grief was still great,
so was her gratitude...

...to the man, the rabbi,
who had led their caravan west.

I recorded the name Leon Ratovski
and then put that record aside.

Until, in time,
you heard his name again.

The victim of a murder,
about which you, Mr Drake,

would reveal barely more than
a sentence of information

until the murderer was named,
Isaac Bloom,

another Jewish man
to have made such a journey.

Yet still, although I make
daily requests for details,

none are forthcoming from you, sir,

or your superior at Scotland Yard,
Assistant Commissioner Dove,

who proceeds to injunct
all details of your case.

I am afraid I am perverse.

Being barred from asking questions
has a tendency to make me ask more.

This week last, I travelled to Paris,

where his friends at the Sorbonne
allowed me to remove these photographs.

And these.

They are his diaries, Bennet.

And you have read these?

They are in Ukrainian. He cannot.

- Well, then, they must be translated.
- They are being so.

Rabbi Ratovski's own account
of a journey

at the head of 150 men,
women and children.

A community of Jews,

then supplemented by a further diaspora.

Christians fleeing north
from the Balkan Peninsula.

"In daylight, breaking camp, I see them,

"perhaps 50 yards from us,
watching through the trees.

"A wolf pack.

"I say nothing to the group. We walk on.

"The whole day, they follow.

"They are to the south of us,
perhaps an hour later to the north.

"We camp at nightfall.

"I instruct fires to be built on
our perimeter, and I am asked why.

"I do not need to find an answer,

"because that is when
they begin to howl."

"The first night, they take two.
An elderly couple.

"We know nothing of this

"until their screams erupt from
the darkness beyond our fires."

"They scream for what feels like
many hours.

"By morning, there is nothing left
of them except blood in the snow.

"The following night, they come again,
but now they take five,

"two young girls among them.

"Again, we must listen
to their screams."

"And so it proceeds, day by day,
as we walk through the forest.

"We see them close.

"And each night, they attack

"and we listen to our wives, our husbands,

"our parents, our children, screaming
and imagine that one night soon,

"it will be ourselves
going beneath their jaws.

"Two weeks,
we walk through the forest like this.

"And on the last night, however,

"the wolves take a woman,
a Christian woman - Guluba.

"I remember her name
because she was the last,

"and also because her two sons
attempted to fight the animals.

"Perhaps for this reason,
the wolves did not remove her corpse.

"Instead, left her there in the snow,
her insides all about her...

"...and the youngest of her sons
still clutching at her cold body."

Ratovski told Isaac Bloom

that he had come to London
to right a wrong.

And he would only say that this...wrong
constituted an abandonment.

The later entries, his arrival in Paris,
he...he talks of being broken,

unable to continue,
unable to lead his people further.

So the caravan breaks up, men, women,
and children going where they may.

And some, we know, correct,
Miss Castello, to London.

So perhaps these two brothers
were forced to go on without Ratovski.

And was this that abandonment?

Two small boys alone and orphaned,
their memories,

who they felt themselves to be,

shaped and fathered by the beast
they met in that forest.

Now grown to adulthood.

Homo homoni lupus est.

Man is wolf to man.

Before Ratovski was found,
weeks before, do you recall,

Deborah, the talk had started.

A figure seen on rooftops
watching those of this community,

what they called the Whitechapel Golem.

So what has become a rabid violence
begins with a...surveillance.

- Like the wolves stalking the caravan.
- Two boys, two Christian boys,

the sons of the wolves' last victim,
are given shelter by a Jewish community.

Whilst in their care,
they are exposed to this...

...bestial horror.

And now, in adulthood,

one of them seeks to visit the same
horror within the same community.

The woman's name.

Do you recall that bird-seller who had
a store off the back of Fashion Street?

- I do. I remember him.
- He was a gyppy.

Made great play of it,
his Balkan Romani roots.

"Guluba"...

...was the word he used for a dove.

He makes his mother's name English,

redefines himself with it.

Miss Castello...

You will now set your curiosity

to Assistant Police Commissioner
Augustus Dove.

Find him, follow him, report to me.

It will be more than a book
you will write.

You will show the world a darkness sat
at the heart of Scotland Yard itself.

How is it you're alone, Augustus?

I do not know, Rose.

All I know is, it saddens me.

It saddens me something fearful.

Do not be sad, Augustus.

Do not be.

There is...

too much confusion in the world
for a young, handsome man to be sad.

Not too far, Connor.

Rose, may I ask you something?

Of course you may.

Your words to me...

your recent words of Miss Hart

and how she and Mr Reid had collaborated
on some of act of evil.

You said I should keep my secrets.

I did. I know.

Well, who could blame him for it
when it...

His daughter...

It was his child.

- But Susan, what she did...
- Rose, forgive me. I do not follow.

It was her father.

Theodore Swift.

Her own...flesh and blood.

And God help him, Bennet...

stood by and watched
as they put him in that cellar.

Oh! But I am faithless.

You are not, Rose.

You are nothing of the kind.

What they did was murder.

Two men for three vases.

Does that represent a good deal?

Oi, I'll tell you again.

Their blood is on my hands.

- Now, we may waste no time.
- Yes,

I understand that, Croker.

Then take one vase -
only one, mind -

to that fence off Radcliffe Highway
and get your prize.

I have little choice, do I?

- You've arranged our berths, then?
- Boston the best I can do

- in such short order.
- Boston will serve fine.

Then you bring me my money, hook your
child, and I shall waive your fee.

Just a, uh, word, Croker,
before I leave.

Come.

- That's your boy, is it not?
- He is. Not my blood, but he is my boy.

You know what your boy's been about
of late?

Now, most other weeks,
I'd just shoot him here and now.

But this ain't other weeks,
so I only ask you this.

If I leave my wife with you
for another two hours, is she safe?

Well, what is it you accuse him of,
Captain?

I cannot vouch for her safety

if I do not know this.

Now, you know goddamn well
what the threat is.

Now, what he's done, I can only
leave that on your conscience, Abel.

But you vouch for her safety.

And you do it now.

- She will be safe.
- On your life, Croker.

On my life.

- What gives, Abel?
- Oh...

Take this to the station house
on Leman Street.

- Sir...
- What is it, Sergeant?

Our dead room reaches capacity.

The cage on the customs warehouse
on Cutler Street

was blown open last night,
two guards killed.

- What thieved?
- Three porcelain vases.

Well, it's your case, Thatcher.
You see it through.

Sirs... I think you must see this.

- Captain Jackson?
- Not in his rooms, Inspector.

So it was you who has stripped them?

No, sir. That was myself.

Sergeant Thatcher found
the action, uh... not to his taste.

It... It was the wounding, sir.

Blood spilling from
the same piece of 'em.

Upper left thorax.

You see, I think the instinct accurate.

It's the same wounding...

when he must kill for necessity.

These...

Mr Nadelman, and Mr Ratovski before him.
This...

This is the animal unleashed.

Mr Reid, sir...

which animal?

This is fine work.

But I think you both must leave us now.

What? No!

Inspector...

Get out, Thatcher.

Do we believe Augustus Dove about
the thieving of Japanese porcelain also?

And more besides.

Who here carries the biggest truncheon?

What is it you want, small fry?

- Hm?
- You, is it?

- Come on.
- Oi!

- I only came to run you a note.
- Then give it.

Out.

Tip-off.

Cutler Street job.
Knows where the item's to be fenced.

- Drum! What do you do?
- The Inspectors.

Inspectors be bollocksed.
This is our bloody collar.

Parker?

No.

I'm Thatcher. P...

Thatcher...

Bloody thieving, conniving,

backstabbing...

Americans.

Goddamn it.

There's some morphine about
the place.

Just do me a favour and fix 'em up with
some brandy, because my head is broke...

Everything you know...now.

I know you punch
like a choirboy.

Whooph!

There's a rope with your name on it,
and soon.

Look, Drake, I'd really like to help.

Really I would.
But I don't know nothing.

So why don't you be a good little nurse
and go and get me

- my morphine?
- Bennet, Bennet! Bennet, Bennet...

Oh, what's wrong?

Your two stars still crossed, boys?

Why, you're out of conditioning, Reid.

See?

See?

Now, I'm not no surgeon,
nor no Pinkerton.

But I'm no fool neither.

These knife wounds are the same.

And as you, with such precision,
pointed out...

he who killed Thomas Gower
killed this poor immigrant, Nadelman.

Killed Leon Ratovski also.

And now, I believe,

has put his knife
between these two men's ribs

during a robbery which you,
in one way or another, have partaken.

Any way you choose to slice it, Captain,
you're up to your guts in this.

So you tell me who done this!

just pass me a smoke, will you?

Were you part of this robbery
last night?

If you were not, how did you
get your hands on this vase?

Well, that's a good
many questions, Reid.

Which one's your favourite?

Despite your self-interest, I know that
you are not the stripe of man

to let others suffer
while you might instead help.

Now, we know not how,

but Augustus Dove himself is somehow
also tangled within all.

So I ask you again.

Only help.

I only wish I could, Reid.

You know...

I'm glad of something.

The man you were when we first met,
the man of war,

man of dread, his leashed fighting dog.

And now all that you have constructed
about yourself now, Drake,

is a man of peace, a man of hope.

It's a relief for me to see it.

Just how brittle a carapace that was.

How little...

a man can change.

Inspectors...

Sir, she has brung herself here.

Miss Castello, sir. She asks after you.

Have two men lock this whoreson down.

My office.

It is a rare blend our surgeon
has taken to smoking.

One cannot imagine its importers
being that many and varied.

So get on the line to
the shipping office at the Western,

find out who lumps such tobacco ashore
for them.

- You're sure?
- I'm afraid so.

Leave us now.

They are friends, are they not,

from childhood, schooled together?

Such friends do not walk arm in arm.

Do not care for aught
but what you may throw your arms about.

It will not serve anyone,
least of all yourself,

to reach a conclusion
that you have not seen first-hand

and which you cannot prove.

I see your rage.

I do, but do not feed it.

Leave me for now to...

join this robbery with Mr Dove,
and you go home, Bennet.

Go home with love in your heart.

Yes? Drummond?

Three different merchants,
three different wharf sites.

Only, uh, here's a point of interest,
Mr Reid.

Shipping office reports
an identical inquiry taking place

a couple of weeks back.

A fellow named Probin, prison doctor.

Egyptian.

Nutty, cut with sweetness.

They're strong.

And rare.

Only a very few importers,

so a clear trail to its source.

A trail stepped by another
in recent times.

That doctor out of Newgate.

Remember his name?

It was Probin.

He ministered to your wife, I believe...

...before she died.

Or did not die,
if Rose Drake is to be believed.

I only mention this out of fellowship

and due to the fact
that time presses. And...

And I believe you may be able to
save me a diversion or two.

Which of the three wharves that land
this tobacco should I go to first?

And what would I find there?

Reid, I think you know what it is,
you asked me that.

It ain't just a name
I'm going to give you.

- I do.
- Then, in fellowship, don't ask it.

I must.

And yet I have no notion
of what it is you speak, Reid.

Reid...

You be careful down there.

What dangers do I face?

Plenty.

No.

No, no. No.

Ah! No!

This your sarcophagus, is it, madam?

Where you have come to in your death?

And who else to break me
from my tomb but you...

...Mr Reid?

It is fortunate...

that I am in the habit of believing
the evidence of my eyes.

I might, like Rose Drake,

consider my wits lost to me, having
watched you fall from the scaffold.

At some point in time,

I should be very interested to know
how you did it,

although I have some idea,

given that your husband is currently
in irons at Leman Street.

Tip-off, apparently.

Apprehended in the process
of selling stolen goods,

the anticipated profit from which

to provide the wherewithal
for your further flight, I imagine.

Escape?

It is a fine fancy.

But no more than that.

And you, Mr Reid,

a man equally resurrected...

...equally powerless to leave a place...

...come to show me my truth
once more.

Yourself, myself...

...attached to Whitechapel as if
by lead weights on a river bed.

The betrayal of my husband.

It is the same communication
that has brought you in here now?

No. Merely police work.

And who your betrayer?

The wharfinger here, Croker?

So it would seem.

My son.

- Will I see my son?
- Not of current relevance.

I am sure some visitation
might be arranged before...

well,

before the law of this land makes
one further attempt to see you punished.

I would have...

accepted it, my hanging.

You must understand that, Mr Reid.

I would have given my life
in recompose for all I have taken

and...and done it with peace.

But they let me raise my boy.

And once...

...once I had known him...

...I could not relinquish that.

Thus this most recent thieving of yours.

Dead men at your door yet again
in your pursuit of freedom.

And I would mourn them.

Then who was it?

Who was it put the knife...?

It is you. It is you.

No, no. You take this man's life,
Nathaniel, you must take mine first.

You know what it is like to protect,

- and I must protect him, I must.
- Nathaniel, is it?

What was it before? What was it
when the wolves came for you?

Who is he?

He's Reid. He's my friend.

- He's police, is he not?
- He is.

You... You are the younger,

you who laid beside your mother
in the snow.

And who is the older, Nathaniel?

You tell me. I...

I believe I know, but you tell me,
you confirm it.

Did you run to him? Did you confess
what you'd done to Ratovski?

I'm sorry, Miss Susan.

- I'm sorry.
- Wait!

Wait!

...Thank you.

Half an hour.

Mr Drake,
I thought to deliver your wife home.

What is it you thought to
deliver her from, Mr Dove?

Bennet, you know full well
we are friends.

Well, should I not accept a carriage
ride home when all about is uproar?

It is as Rose says, Inspector.

Mrs Drake.

She's Mrs Drake to you.

As Mrs Drake has said,
these are dangerous days,

and if it is in my gift to afford you
a measure of peace by returning your...

Bennet!

Augustus!

Get him away.

Get the boy out, Rose.

Want me to take his eyes away?

Spare your shame for you?

- I will not.
- On your head be it, then, woman.

Your own selfish needs, and I, a slave

to each and every one of them.
And now this.

Stop it!

What are you...?

- Mm!
- Did you let him touch you?

Have you...?
Have you taken him to our bed?

No, Bennet.

Perhaps she speaks the truth.

But what of your truth, eh?

- Bennet...
- You have...

camouflaged yourself to me
with great skill, sir.

But there is a ripe stink about you now.

We have it in the air.

And we are coming for you, Mr Dove.

Ohh...

What will happen, Augustus?

All will be well.

My health on it.

You allow it, I will build high walls
to make you and your child safe.

Only, you must choose a side now,
my Rose.

The cellar.

Where may I find it?

You know already, Augustus.

It was beneath that curiosity shop.

Book her, Sergeant Drummond.

Yes, Mr Reid.

Name?

Susan Hart.

True name.

Swift.

Caitlin Swift.

Inspector Drake, sir.

Please, sir. There is a unit
at Westminster Manor.

Yard...uniforms,
A Division, sir, over 50 of 'em.

They've sealed up the Cobden Estate
on Sander Street

and they're clearing out the tenants.

Arrest warrant.

Inspectors Reid and Drake to be...

apprehended and held on the order of
Assistant Commissioner Dove.

Sir... There.

Bitch!

What will we do, Bennet? Wait for
the first of those men out there

to feel that their prospects
might be advanced by our shackling?

We will not.

Perhaps I am only good
for the fight after all.

Then let us bring it, Bennet.

- The brothers Dove.
- Susan Hart.

That woman there, the woman Swift,

she saved me from that creature.

He would have had that knife
up under my ribs in a trice,

but he obeyed her command.

She and her husband also,
they know this Nathaniel.

We find him,

his capture will bring us also
his brother.

With me.

Keys.

Stand down, Carter.

Just go.

Get out.

Move!

Get walking.

Go!

Drake...

My Colt.

Captain Jackson's effects.

Do it, Drummond.

Inspectors, will you not even make it
appear as if we tried to do our duty?

Move!

Do you see her, Bennet?

Call me mad now, will you?

Rose...

Rose, do you have my son?

I don't know how you dare ask.

He is at home
being watched by real policemen.

Rose, please, none of this
is as I would have wanted it.

You are so dear to me...

Whoa!

I think you've said your piece now,
Mrs Drake.

I ain't even begun, Captain.

Do you know...

what he and I have suffered?

And all for the true love of you.

And we have done it together.

But that love is now broke and forgot.

So you may run.

But do not think
you will ever see your son again.

You gave him to me.

You died.

And you remain dead.

And if I see you again, Long Susan,

I will kill you myself.

We must run. We must run.

Is it you, Rose?

You who sent Mr Dove to that cellar?

What happened to us?

Drake...

Drake, now.

On a hard day,
you are a fine sight, Mathilda Reid.

Your eyes do not deceive you,
Mathilda. It is her.

Our thanks, Miss Castello.
We must speak.

There will be bad things said about me,
things that perhaps you'll not recognise

as acts I could have carried out.

Then are they true?

Some, yes.

Tilda Reid...

...the girl born to me twice.

The wonder of the woman you have become.

No. Not again, Father.
Do not leave me.

You stay close to your Samuel Drummond,
understand?

He loves you, will keep you safe.

And, Mathilda,
this is the most important.

You must deny me.

You must openly state that any love
for your father has been extinguished

by what you have learned of him.

Should you need to speak with me,
place a candle in your window.

Miss Castello... You will be watched.

So you play the innocent for now.

Else he will see you dead, understand?

Now we go hunting.

Search the length of Whitechapel
High Street and Commercial Road.

Ahem.

Let him through.

Yes, Sergeant Drummond?

Mr Dove, sir,
there is a delivery for you.

A boy brought this, sir.

Reid put him up
and sent him running.

But there is no rathole in Whitechapel
where he can hide from me.

- Feel this needful, do you?
- I do.

And more besides.

It was you instructed me
to keep waries on him.

But I cannot make that
my life's sole calling

if the watching of him must be done each
and every minute of each and every day.

He can't help himself, and I do not know
of any other way of doing it.

He is chained, Abel.

My brother is chained.

As all animals require -
chaining or slaying.

- What's that you say?
- Uh...

Only this...

He is past saving, Augustus.

And you and your ever-burgeoning
eminence needs protection from him.

- So you think to end his misery.
- I do.

And wish for my sanction.

I do...not require your sanction!
The pair of you

would have been ground down for bread
had it not been for me.

I do you the respect of telling you,
is all.

Augustus...

What's he saying?

Augustus... Augustus, please.

I will be better.

I will be calm, I promise.

Go, then.

But make it swift.

It's all right.
All right, it's all right.

You will be at peace, my boy.

He is my blood, Abel.

What else would I do?

A cloak.

To reveal the truth of himself.

I think it is unlikely
they will return now,

unless it is Augustus Dove and 20 men
hoping to make our capture.

Until we are apprehended,

I do not think your Croker
will return that creature here.

They're ours, goddamn it,
stolen in good faith and worth a bundle.

A bundle we four could well
benefit from.

We four?
I'm not your brother-in-outlaw-arms.

Oh, are you not? Well, why don't you go
trot back to your desk, then?

I believe I have some instinct as to
where your quarry may now hide itself.

- Where, do you say?
- Somewhere.

It is a...
It is a whole system of tunnels.

- What do you want, brother?
- What do you want?

To live,

grow old, be happy.

Same as me, Augustus, but I cannot,

because what I want...

...is not what I need.

The need never dies, does it, boy?

Storm blows up
for a score of wherefores,

but the sailing remains the same.

Augustus, he ain't your mainsail.

He ain't even your anchor.

He is the teeth of the hurricane,

he's your kraken waking.

Perhaps, but he is mine.

Listen, you do not look for me,
understand?

Go, brother.

- Hide. I shall find you.
- Yes.

I gave you life.

It is not a gift, Abel.

If you weren't dead already,
I'd kill you myself.

No...

Where, man? Where is your creature?

Please... Please, Abel,
will you tell us?

Take parallel paths, then.
Our eyes on each other's torch.

Come.

Try me once more.

You think me scared of you, do you?

Well, I am not.

I am you, man!

Do you sometimes walk in sunlight
and remember what murder...

- Bennet!
- ...your hands have made?

- Do you quiver with the power of it?
- Bennet!

Then come.

Come.

Show yourself to me.

It will only be a looking in the mirror,
after all.

Believe yourself a cruel man, do you?

Believe this life
only a home for that cruelty to breed?

You do not know the bare start of it.

How many, then?

Huh?

Ratovski.

My boy Gower.

The immigrant Nadelman.

Them two guards.

Let us hazard, perhaps,
two or three more along the way.

Six, say.

Six is nothing, boy.

I ended 20 men

beneath these hands

in only one half a hot morning.

A whole world of cruelty, man.

But I shall tell you this.

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

Feast on me, then.

Cut me open and eat out my heart.

But all you will find there is dust.

Bennet!

With me...

With me!

Bennet...

Bennet

Bennet, you fight.

You fight.

No, my friend.

No more fight.

There.

No!

Ripped & Corrected By mstoll