All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S19E15.The.Fall.of.the.House.of.Newsome.1080p.CBC.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-Kitsune_track3_[eng]

- Dr. Newsome,

you’re standing trial
in the murder of your wife,

Lucinda Helmsworthy-Newsome.

You’ve entered a plea
of not guilty.

Will you be acting
in your own defence?

- Yes, Your Honour.

I am confident that this is
but a teensy misunderstanding,

a soupçon of confusion,
if you like.

The truth will come
presently to light

and we’ll all be home
by lunchtime.

Very well. The Crown
may proceed with its case.

- Why aren’t you
representing him?

- He’s eschewed representation.
- Oh, bless you.

- He refused.

- Why not just say that then?

You always have to be
so high and mighty.

The Crown calls
Dr. Rupert Newsome.

Dr. Newsome,
you are not compelled

to testify in your own trial.

- Oh, pshaw. All the quicker
to set the record straight.

Oh! I promise to tell
the truth,

so help me God,
and all that other business.

- Dr. Newsome,

please inform the court
what you were doing

in the hours that led up

to Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome’s
death.

- Ah, yes.
- Uh, we were celebrating

Ruthie and Henry’s anniversary.

Ah, Lucy was in one
of her moods, but the food?

The food was divine.

- The next course is tartare.

Savourez, s’il vous plaît.

- What took so long?

Je suis désolé, madame.

- Mm.

Mm.

- Oh, oh, oh. Bucky,

look at my new walking stick.

Both the eyes are real rubies.

Ha! You-you wouldn’t
believe the price.

- Magnificent thing.

If you’re not careful,
I’ll steal it from you.

Naughty.

Whatever have you done
to your moustaches, Newsome?

- Leave him be, won’t you?

- The times have changed since
you’ve been in prison, Bernie.

This style is all
the rage now.

- It looks as though your lip
has grown an eyebrow.

- That’s how he laughs.
- Hm.

Gentlemen of the jury,
picture me with thin moustaches.

I looked a marvel.

- Dr. Newsome,

what were you doing
after the party?

- Oh, right. Um...

everyone went home ’round nine.

I took a brandy by the fire.

Lucinda had gone upstairs
to prepare for bed,

and then I heard
the most terrible sound.

No!

- You killed my sister!

- No, I didn’t!

- Order!
- Bernie, I didn’t!

- Court officers, please.

Remove Mr. Helmsworthy.

- Ah, bosh.
- You’ll hang for this, Newsome!

Get your soiled hands off.
I’m a free man.

You’ll hang for this!

Dr. Newsome,
if we can return to your account

of the night in question.

You were alone in the house
when your wife died?

- Yes.
- After the last of the guests

departed at nine o’clock,
no one else was in the house?

- Uh... uh, no. No one.

- The Crown submits
these photographs

taken the afternoon
before the murder.

This is you, Dr. Newsome,

posing with your walking stick?

- Yes. And, uh, gentlemen,

note the thin moustaches.

- And where’s that
walking stick now?

- Well, I haven’t any idea.

I left it in the hallway
that evening,

but then I was arrested
and, well...

Clearly I haven’t seen it since.

The Crown submits further
photographs taken post-mortem.

They show the lacerations

on Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome’s
head.

- I can’t bear to look at those.

- Forensic experts
would testify that

though her neck was broken
in the fall,

these lacerations
were suffered prior,

inflicted by blows from a weapon
in the upstairs hallway.

That’s where the attack began,

driving Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome
towards the staircase

where, fleeing her attacker,

she fell to her death.

Can you explain
these lacerations, Dr. Newsome?

Can you explain the blood
splatters in the hallway?

No. You cannot.

Nor can you explain the fact

that the murder weapon
left behind

a piece of evidence
caught in the victim’s hair.

A ruby.

- N-no.

- A perfect match

from Dr. Newsome’s
missing walking stick.

- I’m doomed, aren’t I?
Effie, you have to help me.

- Shh!
- I’m sorry!

- You’ve elected
to represent yourself.

You’re meant to be using the law
library to build your defence.

- I don’t know what I’m doing!

- Well, if I were your lawyer,

I would advise you
to change your plea.

- But I’m innocent.

You know that, don’t you?

You think I did it!

- Shh!

I’m sorry!

- Rupert, can you explain
the blood in the hallway?

The ruby from
your walking stick?

- No. I can’t.

- Well, Rupert, you have to
at least consider a guilty plea.

We can file appeals
and lobby to have you released.

It worked for Bernard;
he only served six years.

I know it’s terrible,
but it’s a terrible situation

and you don’t exactly
have another choice.

Rupert?

Guards, did you see
where he went?

I don’t understand.

There’s nowhere
he could have gone.

- A trapdoor in the floor?

- I checked. Nothing.

No, he couldn’t have fit
in there.

And, besides, it only went
from here to there.

It never went out the door.

- This cart travelled
from here to there

at that precise moment?

- Yes.

- Well, then, perhaps it didn’t
need to leave the room at all.

Um...

If you, eventually,
made your way to here

and the cart was moving
from here,

Mr. Newsome could have
crouched down

and been obscured
from this guard,

travelled along this direction
with the cart,

and then hidden from this guard.

And then travelled
this direction, hidden from you.

This window is unlatched.

- Uh-huh.

Henry! What’s-what’s going on?

- Well, it’s Rupert, dear.
He’s escaped.

- What?!
- I was meeting with him

at the law library and he
managed to slip out the window.

- Oh. Very good.

Where is he now?

- I didn’t help him.

- Oh, well, no!
- H-he won’t say anything. No.

Darling, we really should be
going.

We have to be at the estate
for the reading

of Lucinda’s will.
- Yes.

- Wait. Henry, look.

- Hm. Oh!

Oh, this is...
this is Rupert’s barbershop.

- I’ll fetch the detective.

Uh, Ruthie.
- Oh.

- I’ll see you at
the estate later.

- Hm.

Must dash. Best of luck.

- Hello?

Anyone here?

It’s all right. Police.

- It was Rupert Newsome.
The man’s gone mad!

Tied me up and put me
in my own--

- Okay. Calm down. Have a seat.

Start at the beginning.

What time did Rupert arrive?

- Just after nine o’clock.

- That’s just after he escaped.

- A-and what happened
when he arrived?

- I shaved his beard.

Then he grabbed hold
of a straight razor,

bundled me in the water closet,
and tied me up!

- Was there anyone else here?
- No, sir.

My next appointment
never arrived.

I have a standing client
at 9:15 every Tuesday.

- Who?
- Bucky Featherstonhaugh.

- The Featherstonhaughs?

Th-they live next
to the Newsome estate.

And, sir,
Bucky is Rupert’s best friend.

- And now for the reading

of Lucinda
Helmsworthy-Newsome’s will.

- Oh. Phew. This is it.

- Oh, we’ll be all right,
Ruthie. I’m sure she left

Rupert something,
and he’ll take care of us.

To my brother,
Bernard Helmsworthy...

- That’s me.
- ...who loves our horses

as much as I,
I leave the stables,

the thoroughbreds,

and the sum of $40,000
for their care.

That’s everything.

- What?

What does that mean?
What-what about the estate?

Well, it goes
to Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome’s

next of kin.

Ah! Her brother. Moi.

- No. Her husband.

- We’re rich!
- Oh.

- Oh.

- I never saw him.

We know you picked up
Mr. Newsome at the barbershop,

Mr. Featherstonhaugh.

- Picked him up?

He barrelled his way
into my carriage

and held a razor to my neck.

He nearly cut me.

- Are you then saying
that you didn’t abet

Mr. Newsome in his escape?

- Bet him what?

- I beg your pardon?

I didn’t have
a bet with Newsome.

- No, not a bet, abet.

My good man,
are you quite all right?

- What did he say to you when
he got into your carriage?

- Uh, he told me to bring him
to my home.

I refused, huh. Of course.

But then he said it again,
so I assented.

But when we arrived,
I refused to allow him in.

- Right. Where did he go then?

- To the boathouse.
- He has likely sailed

halfway across Lake Ontario
by now.

That’s what
he told you to say.

Yes.

Ah, ah, hm...

- Where did he actually go?

East, across the acreage.

- The property to the east
is the Newsome estate.

Right. The constables
are likely there already.

Let’s retrace his steps.

- Uh...

- Sir!

Sir.

Toronto Constabulary.

- What can I do for you?

You work here
at the Newsome estate?

- I keep the stables.

- Did you happen to see
Rupert Newsome here?

- Isn’t he in jail?
- He’s escaped.

Huh. I saw someone
crossing the fields earlier,

taking just the route
you are now.

Never crossed my mind
it’d be Mr. Newsome.

- You didn’t see his face?
- No, ma’am.

That was quite a distance.

- And which direction
was he going?

- Towards the main house.

- Sir, this is mad.

Lucinda had an appointment
to transfer half the estate

to myself. It was what
Dadah wanted

as soon as I was released
from prison.

- When was this appointment?
- Next week.

- Then it didn’t happen?

- Well, no. She died.

Upon her death,
everything falls to the estate.

The estate follows her will.

- Yes, we have to do more.

- I’m sorry, Mr. Helmsworthy.

- Uh, I wouldn’t even know
what to do with that money.

Oh, I do! A mink,
dresses, jewels, shoes.

- Ruth,

Henry,

be reasonable.

- Hm.

What do you think, Henry?

- Well, we could
give him a share.

No, that doesn’t sound
like something I would do.

Half the estate
was intended to be mine.

It was the wish
of dear departed Lucinda

and the wish
of dear departed Dadah.

- About that.

Dear departed Dadah promised me
that sculpture, remember?

But then dear
departed Dadah died

and dear departed Lucinda
refused to give it to me. Hm.

- So, what of it?
- You’ve already stolen it.

I did no such thing!

- Pardon the interruption.

Henry, have you seen
Rupert Newsome?

- Here? Wha-what would
Rupert be doing here?

- A witness may have seen him
crossing from

the Featherstonhaugh estate
to the house.

- No, he hasn’t been here.

- Pardonnez-moi.
Someone was in my kitchen.

Now, this door
is always locked.

We were told the lock is jammed
and cannot be used.

- Well, the lock is jammed,
but it’s jammed open.

This cannot be locked.

- Stands to reason that Rupert
would have known about that,

given that it’s his house.

But what was he doing sneaking
into his own kitchen?

- What’s this?

- Cocoa?

- Hm.

Was Rupert pointing us
in this direction?

- A servants’ staircase?

I had no idea
that this was there.

- Shall we?

- Leads to the upstairs hallway.

- This is where the killer
struck Lucinda Helmsworthy

with the walking stick.
These are the blood spatters.

She was driven down
the hallway, this way,

to the main stairwell,
the end of the hall.

- Is Rupert trying to show us
how someone else

may have entered the house
that night?

- He’s trying to prove
his innocence.

- Murdoch. Where’s Newsome?

It’s all over the papers.
We look like fools.

- Well, sir, we have not found
him as yet,

but he was at
the Newsome estate.

Constables are still there
searching for clues.

- What was Newsome
thinking, anyway?

- I believe he’s trying
to prove his innocence.

- Everyone knows he did it.

He’s just run off to make up
new evidence

to try and sully the case.

- History does suggest

Rupert Newsome
cannot be trusted.

- Detective.

They’ve found something
at the Newsome estate.

- I come bearing a deeper
understanding of our, uh,

shall we say, impasse.

- What?
- I assume you’re familiar

with criminal forfeiture?

- Why would you assume that?

- It’s an established
and immutable part

of our jus commune.

It states that a criminal cannot
profit from his crimes.

So, what of it?

- I’ve done nothing wrong.
- No, no. But your brother has.

And if he is convicted
of killing my sister,

he will get nothing.

Ergo, ipso facto,

prima facie
you will get nothing.

- No!

No. No, no, no.
That-that can’t be right.

- Ah, but it tis. It is.

Everything is mine,

including that sculpture
that you stole,

which I insist
you return at once.

- Ah.

- Constables found it just over
here by the summer house, sir.

- Rupert’s prison clothes.

- So he was here.
- Could he be hiding inside?

He may have been,
but there’s no sign of him now.

The lads are searching
the grounds again.

- We found a fresh patch of oil
and tire tracks

on the road down below.

Rupert may have driven off
the estate.

I’ll speak with the staff to see
if any of the autos are missing.

- Right.

Effie, there you are.

What is all this nonsense about,
uh, criminal forfeiture?

- I beg your pardon?

- Well, they’re saying
Rupert gets nothing,

but the will states
he’s to get everything.

Well, obviously,
he wouldn’t inherit anything

if he murdered the testatrix.

- Well, he didn’t murder
one of those.

His wife! He can’t have
her money if he killed her!

- But that’s not fair!
- Yes, it is!

- Don’t worry, Ruthie.
We’ll find Rupert

and we’ll prove his innocence.

- Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

We’ll, uh,
"prove" his "innocence."

- What? What do you mean, dear?

- Well, only that a jury
could be encouraged

to find him innocent
if we provide a little...

- Rupert?

Ahh!

- Hello.

I took the motor oil
out of the auto stables

and spilled it on the ground.

- Well, that was awfully clever.

- I am clever, Effie.
- I just don’t feel the need

to show it off all the time.

Anyway, as soon as they
find there’s no car missing,

I am going back to jail.

- No, you’re going
back to jail now!

- Oh, no, please, Effie.
I’m innocent.

So you snuck into the house
just to show that somebody else

could do it? Why not
just bring it up at trial?

- Well, I-I-I may not have been
entirely truthful on the stand.

- Rupert, what really
happened that night?

- Well, most of what I said
was true.

After the party,
Lucy and I were alone.

- Come to bed, Perty.

- In a moment, dear.

- Don’t tarry too long.

I have the most wondrous joke
to tell you.

- What was the joke?
- I haven’t any idea.

You see, I never joined her
upstairs.

After a moment,
I heard something.

No!

Yes, terrible sound
from the staircase.

No,

the old kitchen door.

Hm. I knew what that meant.

Lucinda had a visitor.
I was to wait downstairs.

Who was the visitor?

- Well, the killer, presumably.

Ah-ah, initially, of course,
I assumed it was Bucky.

- Bucky Featherstonhaugh?
- Well, yes.

Bucky and Lucinda
had been carrying on an affair

for some months.
She jammed the lock

on the old kitchen door
and reopened

the disused servants’ staircase

so he could enter unnoticed...

...and do unto her
his carnal labours.

- And you knew about this?
- Oh! Yes!

Ha. Lucinda and I had
an arrangement.

She could get lucky with Bucky

and I was free to enjoy
the pleasure of her contentment.

You can see why I could not
bring this up on the stand.

It would cast shame
upon Lucinda’s memory.

- And it would give you
a motive.

- Oh. Yes, I suppose it would.

- So, Bucky killed Lucinda?

- No. No, no. Effie,

I confronted Bucky straight away
upon my escape.

He said he didn’t do it.
- And you believed him?

- Effie, he’s my top chum.

- He was sleeping
with your wife!

- Well, somebody had to!

You don’t understand.

Bucky was at home that night

emptying himself
into the latrine

after being made sick
by that awful tartare

that Lucy insisted on serving.

So, somebody else entered
the kitchen door that night.

And whoever it was
killed Lucinda.

But-but how did the killer get
ahold of your walking stick?

- I don’t know.
- I left it in the hallway.

- Listen, Rupert, we will find
whoever killed Lucinda,

but I have to return
you to jail.

- Oh, oh, no, no, no, no.
Please.

No! No, you can’t. Look. Look.

I received it in prison.
I don’t know who sent it.

- "You are not getting
out of this alive."

- It’s a threat.

- I’m aware.

- Please, Effie Shpeffie,

you have to keep me safe
until we catch him.

Please.

- Lucinda was having an affair

and Rupert wrote you
an entire account

of his innocence
and placed it in your postbox?

- Yes.

With no indication
of where he might be hiding?

- I’m afraid not.

- Right, then.

If that is the case,

then according to Rupert,
whoever came through

the kitchen door that night
is the murderer.

And his assertion
that Bucky Featherstonhaugh’s

innocent is suspect at best.

- The tartare did seem off.

And Lucinda was displeased with
just about everyone that day.

- Anyone in particular?

I did see her having
a row with her stablehand.

- Mr. Slattery,

why was Mrs. Helmsworthy
upset with you

on the night of her murder?

- I’d told her one of the horses
got loose.

Couldn’t find him anywhere.

She dressed me down,
but it wasn’t my fault.

The gate was broken.

- And where were you
after the party?

- I was out with Mr. Helmsworthy
looking for the horse.

- That’s right.
- We were searching all night.

I still have no idea what
happened to that poor animal.

- I understand Mrs. Helmsworthy

was quite displeased with you
that evening.

- Lucy? Scarcely.

She said I was being
too hard on Rupert,

as if he didn’t deserve
all that he got, but, uh,

mostly she was cross with Ruth

about that damnable sculpture.

Her own father promised me
that sculpture on his deathbed.

- Hm. I thought you said
he promised it to you

- during the hunt.
- You sound just like her.

What does it matter?
He promised it to me.

- Where were you
after the party?

We went home
shortly before nine.

- Oh, but, uh, but I did see
Lucinda excoriating the chef.

Probably because the tartare
was inedible.

- Oh, really? I quite liked it.

She kept asking,
"Where is the tartare?

Is it ready? Is it ready?"

I told her to close her mouth.

Horrible woman.

- She’s dead, Mr. Debussy.

- Ah. Yes.

- Where were you
after the party?

- In my quarters. Asleep.

- Was anyone else with you?

- No.

- Chef Debussy has no alibi
for the time of the murder.

He claims he’s never been
upstairs here

where the murder took place
and that he had

no prior knowledge
of the servants’ staircase

that leads here.

- So, if we find
his fingermarks,

we’ll know he’s lying.

Henry?

- Hm? Yes?

- Is there something
in that dumbwaiter?

- No, there isn’t.

- Can I see?

- Oh, is there something
in the dumbwaiter?

- Mm.

- Yes, there is.

- Detective?

I think we may have
found our sculpture.

- Your fingermarks were found
all over

the servants’ staircase

and in the hallway where
Mrs. Helmsworthy was killed,

both places you claimed
you had not been.

- Is that so?

- Yes.

I believe
you snuck into the home

in order to steal this... item.

Mrs. Helmsworthy caught you,
and you murdered her.

- I went back to the house
that night

to retrieve my sculpture.

Lucinda refused
to give it to me,

so I just took matters
into my own hands.

Rupert told me about Bucky’s
secret entrance,

which led me right to where
Lucinda kept my statue.

Once I got it,

I heard someone coming up
the main stairs.

I was worried about
being caught with it,

so I stashed him

in the hopes that I would...

come back and retrieve him.

Probably should have made
a run for it.

- Who was coming up
the main staircase?

- I heard Lucinda say,

"What are you doing here?"

But I was halfway out the door,
so I didn’t see anybody.

I didn’t kill Lucinda.

I don’t know who did.

- If it wasn’t Ruth Newsome,
then who was it?

- She may be lying.

According to her story,

the killer came up
the main staircase.

If so, Rupert Newsome
would have seen him.

- One of them is wrong.
- Or lying.

Higgins. What’re you
hanging around for?

- Waiting for word
about my wife, sir.

- We should lock you up
with her.

Did you really think
you could hide this thing?

- Terribly sorry, sir.
I panicked.

I know Ruth would never
actually hurt anyone.

- Take her home.

One more cock-up
and you’re off the job.

- Thank you, sir.

- If he’s hiding anything about
Newsome, I’ll hang him myself.

Don’t worry, Ruthie,
we still have some money.

You’re a moving picture star.

- I’m a working actor, Henry.

One cannot survive on the wages
of a working actor.

- Hm. Well, perhaps Rupert
will be found not guilty

and we’ll still be rich.

Yes, and perhaps
you could arrange that.

- We are not bribing
the jury, darling.

- No, no, of course not. No.
- But you as a police, um, uh...

- Constable.
- Yes, you as
a police constable,

you could arrest someone else
for murder.

Like, um, like him.

- Want me to arrest an innocent
person for murder?

- No. No, no, no.
- No, you misunderstand me, no.

I am suggesting that instead
of Rupert,

you arrest someone
that nobody cares about.

- I’m sure there are people that
care about that man, dear.

- Well, not him, then!
Get one of those people

that’s just sort of around,
you know? Not a real person.

Oh, him! Or, um...

Oh, no, him! Him, him, him.
- Hm?

- They are all real people,
dear.

- Someone else. Whoever!

Dear, I cannot just simply

arrest an innocent person
off the streets.

- Ah, I’m not suggesting that!

My God, Henry,
you really are impossible.

- Miss Newsome.

- Detective!

I was just here
to check on something.

- Hm. Not hiding the fact

that Rupert Newsome
is inside this lodging?

- How did you know?
- That letter was odd.

And your reaction
to the Chief Constable

threatening to punish anyone
aiding Rupert Newsome

- was palpable.
- Let me explain--

- You have been aiding
an escaped prisoner.

I highly doubt you have
a very good explanation.

I intended
to turn him in, but--

What was that?

- Toronto Constabulary! Stop!

Rupert!

Did he rip
my neckerchief?

- Stop!

Who was that man?

- I don’t know.

But the hands around my throat
suggest maybe the killer.

- He received a threat
while he was in jail.

That’s why I allowed him
to stay here.

I feared for his safety.

- That was not your
decision to make.

You’ll be returned to custody.

But, first, your sister said
the killer came up

the main stairs, which means
you would have seen him.

- Oh. Well,

perhaps there is a teensy detail
I may have left out.

- Rupert. What happened?!

Oh. As I said,
I was in the sitting room

when I heard
the kitchen door open.

Instead of simply waiting there

for the duration
of the romantic interlude,

I slipped out of the house
for a few moments.

- Where did you go?
- I came here,

to the summer house.

I wanted to play Little Wars.

Bucky, Bucky and I
have an ongoing battle.

Pew-pew.

You and Bucky
were here together?

- No, no, no, no.
- I thought he was with Lucinda,

but in fact

he was home sick
with the tartare.

I was here alone.

- I’ve read H.G. Wells’ book
about Little Wars.

I’ve played with my son.

The game is a two-person game,
at minimum,

which means if you were here
alone you were cheating.

- How dare you!
- Rupert, you’ve deliberately

withheld information about
an ongoing murder investigation,

a murder for which
you may very well hang

because you were ashamed
you cheated at some silly game?

- How dare you, madam.

How dare you. Pew.

- Mr. Newsome,

recount for me, please,

precisely your movements

after you left
the sitting room.

- Oof! Well, I...

I was here for no more
than ten minutes.

I left to return
to the main house.

But Lucinda’s
companion

had not yet left.

She was talking to a man,
but I couldn’t

make out his voice.
I heard Lucinda say...

Casanova!

- Casanova.

- Casanova?

- Mm-mm.
- Something about Casanova.

At the time, I assumed
she was referring to Bucky,

but perhaps it was
another paramour.

- Did you hear anything else?

- Oh... oh, y-yes!

Something about dinner:

"You like it." "Yummy."
"Delicious."

She laughed.

That was the last thing I heard,
her sweet laughter...

Ah-ha-ha!

Ah-ha!

Ringing out across the grounds.

Did you return to
the main house at any point?

- Well, I assumed she and Bucky
had not

finished their rendezvous,
so I returned here

and, uh, moved a cannon
to the Western Front.

By the time I returned...

She was dead.

Pew.

- Right. Let’s go.

- Well, where are you
taking me, Detective?

- Uh, you will be held
in the cells

at Station House Number Four
for your protection

until you stand trial.

- What are we going to do?
- We have to prove his innocence.

- You are no longer part of this
investigation, Miss Newsome.

- Thank you for apprehending
the fugitive, Detective.

The trial will resume tomorrow.

- And the Crown is confident
in the accused’s guilt?

- Of course.
- The evidence is clear.

No one else was in the house.

- He doesn’t think
Newsome did it.

- Please, excuse my incredulity.

That man is as good as hanged.
Gentlemen.

- You’re putting a lot of faith
in the word of Rupert Newsome.

The police searched
the whole house after that night

and found nothing.

- Nothing about the murder.

But perhaps they missed
something

about who else
was there that night.

- Oh, uh, Henry.
- Um, did you find anything

that could exonerate Rupert?

- Not yet.

Oh my God.

- What?

- Get rid of it.
- I can’t do that.

- Well, do not tell the police!

- I am the police!

No, I mean,
don’t tell the real police.

- Detective!

There’s something in here
you need to see.

- Oh, my.
- Yes, he’s very strong.

- That’s the murder weapon.

Well done, Henry.

What’s this?

I spoke to
the Chief Constable.

These are files of cases
in which you

, Detective Murdoch,

deliberately withheld knowledge

from other investigating
parties.

- If I did, I did so
with good reason.

- As did I.

I was protecting my family.

I regret lying to you,
Detective,

because I admire
and respect you,

but I would do the same again.

Can you honestly say
that you wouldn’t?

- I found it odd that constables

searched the sitting room
multiple times after the murder

and never found
this murder weapon.

- Yes. It is odd.

I’ve checked and it’s been
wiped clean of all fingermarks,

but I did get
an interesting scraping

from the jewel-encrusted
snake’s head.

- What did you find?

- Horse dung.

Gloves and a dark mask,

the same as those worn
by the man

who attacked Rupert Newsome.

- It was the stablehand,

Mr. Slattery.
W-we need to find him.

- Ruth, you have to speak to me,
please. I had no choice.

Anyway, it’s out
of our hands now.

Either he’s guilty,
or he’s innocent.

- Obviously he’s guilty.

- Well, imagine that I had
hidden the evidence, then,

and Rupert was acquitted.

We would be rich off
the proceeds of a murder.

How could we live
with ourselves?

- What kind of a question
is that?

We would live!

We would live and Rupert
would be there,

and when we saw him,
we would envision him

covered in Lucinda’s blood,
and we would ignore this,

and everything would be fine.

- Dear,

I know you don’t
believe that.

- Why do you have to be
right all the time?

- Come on, let’s go home.

There’s nothing else
we can do now.

- Yes, there is.

- Rue-Rue...

What do you mean, dear?

- Please?

Please. Please. Please,
please, please.

- Get up, woman.
- You’re an embarrassment.

- Bernard, um...

couldn’t you give us
just a teensy,

little bit of the fortune?

We would be indebted to you
and you could torture us,

or-or ridicule us,

just like your sister always
loved to do so, so much.

I never understood
why Lucy married Rupert.

She hated the Newsomes. But me?

I don’t care about you at all.

You will leave this place

and I will never think about you
again,

except, of course,
when I’m celebrated

as the man who finally rid
Mimico of the Mimico Newsome.

- You were wearing this mask
and these gloves

when you attacked Rupert Newsome
in the summer house.

- I was.
- But I didn’t kill anyone.

- Hm.

The murder weapon was discovered
earlier today

in the sitting room.

It had traces
of horse dung on it,

indicating to me that it was
being kept in the stables

and was then planted
in the sitting room by you.

- Yes. But I didn’t
do the killing.

- Then how did you end up
with the murder weapon?

- I found it in some bushes
near the main house

a couple days later.

- So why plant it now?

When you policemen
started coming around,

I got worried.

Maybe you weren’t sure
Mr. Newsome had done it.

And, well, I had the proof.

- So you want Rupert Newsome
to be found guilty.

- If he gets away with it,
he gets everything.

The estate, all the money,

and Mr. Helmsworthy
won’t get a thin dime.

- What does that matter to you?

- I’m not just a stablehand.
We’re business partners.

- Ah!

How so?

We had this idea:
thoroughbred racing.

With my know-how and his money,
we could make a killing.

- You threatened to kill
Rupert Newsome,

you planted evidence
against him,

you tried to kill him.

Why should I believe
that you are not the one

who killed Lucinda Helmsworthy

in order to secure her fortune
for her brother?

She was giving him
half the fortune, anyway.

I told you already.

I was out all night
looking for Casanova.

- I beg your pardon?

- I was looking for Casanova,

Mr. Helmsworthy’s horse.

- Why would I kill my own,
dear sister?

For money?

Money that would have been
given to me legally

had she lived long enough
to visit with our lawyer.

- No, Mr. Helmsworthy.

But we do believe that
you were the man

who entered the home
via the main staircase

moments before the murder.

What are you
doing here?

- Even if it was me, so what?

- You discussed Casanova,

your beloved horse,
which she set free

and that infuriated you.

- Why would she do such a thing?

Because she’d had enough
of you ridiculing her husband.

Whatever have you done
to your moustaches, Newsome?

Leave him be.

- It was payback.

She had set your horse free,

knowing that that would hurt you

more than anything
in the world.

But she didn’t just
let him loose, did she?

Casanova was her grand joke.

When she said "You liked it,"

that’s what
she was referring to.

Casanova was delicious.

- Mm.

She made your horse
into a tartare

and served it to you
on a silver platter.

- You had no idea.

When you saw her
later that night,

she told you

and laughed in your face.

You grabbed the nearest
weapon at hand.

- No!

You lashed out.

And you killed her.

- The horse did nothing wrong.

How could my own sister
do something so horrible?

- Oh, what fun!
- We’re rich again!

- Ah, ah, ah, ah. I’m rich,
Ruthie-Puthie.

But, of course,
I’ll take care of those

who believed in my innocence.

- Yes.

Uh, Rupert, I suppose
it will be a touch lonesome

around the estate
without your wife.

- Yes. Well, truth is,

I’ve been fantasizing about

escaping my marriage
for donkey’s years.

- It always did seem like

Lucinda didn’t much
care for you.

- She detested me.

But, in the end,
she defended me.

She stood up to her brother
and said, "No more."

- Mm.
- "No more shall my husband

be the butt of your japes."

And for this grand act of love,
she lost her life.

The act of love being
feeding Bernard his own horse.

- Yes. She really did love me.

And now she’s gone forever.

Nothing, nothing, shall ever
replace her in my heart.

Fire!
Ka-pow! Ka-pow!

- Ah, ha, ha, ha! Bucky! Bucky!

Ha, ha, ha! You naughty boy!
Wait for me!

Bang! Bang!

- Get ready, soldiers!

- Return fire!

Subtitling: difuze