Original subtitles

I was born in a gutter

called the Gorbals.

(Glasses clinking) That's in Scotland.

In case you didn't know.

In fact, I did know. Oh.

Not a lot of people do.

It has a certain reputation for lawlessness,

which is where I acquired my interest

in the underbelly of society.

Surely that's not why you're interested in me, Mr. Pinkerton?

(Laughing)

Mrs. Greenhow.

Please, you may call me Rose.

Rose.

Rose.

You're full of surprises, Mr. Pinkerton.

(Laughing)

Not at all the man I expected.

What did you expect?

I'd heard the man who protected Lincoln was dour,

pigheaded... (Laughing)

...and blindly devoted to his wife.

And now you think otherwise of me?

Let us see.

(Moaning)

And now I think...

...Otherwise of you.

According to my mother,

the great detective easily succumbed to her persuasions.

It would only be a matter of days

before she was liberated from the house arrest

that Allan Pinkerton had imposed upon her

for more than a year.

She soon returned to her beloved Confederacy.

There are many who cheer the legacy of my late mother.

They say Rose Greenhow is a heroine to the Confederacy.

Not I. I saw only a devious woman

who used her many charms to move in elite circles.

She hobnobbed with generals,

senators and presidents.

She used her connections

to pass along key military information

to the Confederacy at the start of the war.

Betrayal, treachery and deceit

are my mother's best traits.

And that is why I am writing this book.

To show the world the truth

behind the legacy that is my mother,

Rose Greenhow.

(Applause)

And to make her publisher a wealthy man.

You could be wealthier if you co-publish with me.

I could ensure wider distribution.

Leila Greenhow is no better than her mother,

sullying your father's reputation for her own gains.

If word of this encounter gets back to my mother...?

The story is fiction.

How would you know that?

I think I know your father.

Let's hope.

I'm prepared to offer $1,000 in advance to co-publish.

You haven't even read the manuscript.

I don't need to. I've heard enough tonight.

LEILA: Thank you so much for coming.

Thank you. It means a lot. Hi, how are you?

Your support means everything.

I need all the help I can get...

WILL: He died with his boots on, Sheriff.

I should have known you two would turn up.

No sooner a body drops in Kansas City

and here come the Pinkertons.

Well, as a matter of fact, Leila Greenhow hired us

to look into the death of her publisher, Milton Kroft.

You're working for the woman

who wants to publish trash about your father?

My sentiments exactly.

Will agreed to take the case, not me.

Yes, there's a dead man here,

and I'd like to get to the bottom of this story.

Which one? Kroft's murder,

or Leila Greenhow's salacious fiction about your father?

Whichever comes first.

The point is, is that I think someone clearly didn't want

her book to be published.

What was that trifle about her mother?

What was her name? Rose Greenhow.

Waste of paper.

A dead footnote in history, if you ask me.

Actually, Rose was an accomplished spy.

Who caused immeasurable damage to the Union war effort.

All the more reason to forget about her.

No. Confederates hailed her as a war hero.

KATE: Well, maybe they disagree

with what her daughter is saying about her in the book.

She was well connected, and unfortunately loved by many.

Including your father, I hear.

KATE: Apparently Allan's so-called adventures with Rose

are becoming busy rumour.

WILL: Let's take a look, shall we?

See what you missed.

Well, he was shot in the back.

Small calibre, probably a .24.

(Sighing) No sign of a struggle,

so he snuck up from behind him.

Shot to the heart. All business.

I'll leave you two to it.

Too small, by the way. What?

The boots. They'd never fit you.

They are nice boots, though.

They won't fit you, either.

(Telegraph clicking)

What are you telegraphing, the Declaration of Independence?

I'm wiring Chicago to convey to your father

what was said about him last night,

and also to inform him of the murder of Milton Kroft.

It's a telegram, Kate. Skip the details.

Leila's going to be here any minute.

Well, then make her some tea.

You do know how to do that, don't you?

Yeah, you boil water.

Oh! (Objects crashing)

(Knocking at door) (Sighing)

WILL: Hello, Leila. Please come in.

LEILA: I confess.

I feel responsible for poor Mr. Kroft's demise.

We would have never met if it weren't for my book.

He knew full well what he was getting into.

Your mother's life was controversial at best.

True enough.

And I can't help but wonder if I'm the next target.

Have you considered

cancelling your book's publication?

It would certainly ease your fears.

And let them win? No.

Never. I've kept quiet for much too long.

I'm not stopping 'til this story comes out.

You're just like my father.

You never give up. Can't say I blame you, though.

I appreciate your understanding.

I get precious little of it from other corners.

It's hell growing up under the shadow of a headstrong parent.

I mean, the moment they find out

that Allan Pinkerton's my father,

they look right through me, like I wasn't even there.

(Chuckling)

Miss Leila,

you know my associate here, Mrs. Kate Warne.

Miss Greenhow, why don't we start

with what you know about Milton Kroft.

Does he have any enemies?

Anyone he's had problems with as of late?

On the contrary.

Mr. Kroft was a kind and gentle man.

Well liked by everyone.

His only sin, it appears, was to champion my book.

I can think of a few people that might be angry

with what's in your biography.

A woman stormed out of your reading the other night.

Oh, that would be Florence. She's my sister.

There was a man with her. He left as well.

That would be Seymour, her husband.

They do as they please. Manners be damned.

Is it possible that they took issue with your story?

No. Florence supports my literary ambitions

in every respect.

We'll need to speak with her directly about that.

If you doubt my word, please do.

(Knocking at door)

(Door closing)

Miss Greenhow.

Good to meet you.

Your book reading was very informative.

This is our associate, Kenji Harada.

Oh, I have to speak with you.

Oh, well, we were just finishing up, Kenji.

Thank you.

Miss Leila, may I escort you back to the hotel?

LEILA: A pleasure to meet you.

At the book reading,

I saw the man who was murdered arguing with another publisher.

His name is Byron Thomas.

A rival of Milton Kroft's, perhaps.

Track his movements. See what else you can find.

Okay.

(Door opening and closing)

(Horse whinnying)

FLORENCE: Leila is my little sister.

Seymour and I took her in after Mother's imprisonment in 1862.

Raised her like our own daughter.

I have no issue with her.

Well, then why did you walk out of her reading?

If you must know, I was overcome by a bout of the vapours.

You seemed plain old angry to me.

I fail to see why I need to justify my actions to you, sir.

Do you agree with Leila's portrait

of your mother as a devious woman?

Do you agree with her depiction

of your father as a lustful fool?

Well, the older I get, it seems the less I know

about my father and what he's capable of.

Yes, well, I see nothing wrong with the truth coming out.

But my poor, dear sister is nowhere near that truth.

What do you mean?

I know what really happened that night

between my mother and your father

in her Washington parlour.

ALLAN: You think you're untouchable, don't you, Mrs. Greenhow?

You think your powerful friends will keep you

from the long arm of the law.

I know you've been trailing me

for several months now with operatives.

I've even seen you lurking outside my window.

And yet what have you found, Mr. Pinkerton? Nothing.

We know that you have supplied key intelligence

to the Confederate army,

which has led to the Union defeat at Bull Run.

I had nothing to do with that.

That was simply Union military incompetence.

And that you have operated with impunity

from this very house in Washington, D.C.,

supplying information to General Beauregard.

You have no proof.

I have no proof?

I have no proof.

(Chuckling)

But I intend to get a confession from you...

Mrs. Greenhow.

Every name, every person,

every place, every rendezvous

you have made since you came to this town.

And denounce all I believe in?

What is it that you believe in, Mrs. Greenhow,

apart from your ability to manipulate people?

I will not betray my cause

or the people who support it, Mr. Pinkerton.

Then you will hang in the public square

for everyone to see.

Then I'll die a hero.

Like a traitor.

And your beautiful little daughters,

what will become of those poor, wee, starving creatures?

You wouldn't dare.

Abandoned in the street.

Do you think they'll think you're a hero?

What kind of monster are you?

You don't know what I am!

If your daughters are anything like you,

it won't be very long

before they're in the brothel.

(Sobbing) (Allan laughing)

That is an very different story from Leila's.

It's what my mother told me in confidence.

Honest to God.

And you believed her? Why wouldn't I?

Maybe she was just telling you what you wanted to hear.

I'm older than Leila.

Mother knew I was mature enough to learn what actually happened,

no matter how ugly it was.

Your father was a monster.

You have to accept that.

Byron Thomas sent a telegram to Washington, D.C.

Washington?

Most publishing houses are in New York City.

Should I go back to the telegraph office?

Perhaps find out what he wrote?

No. It's too risky.

We have to keep this aboveboard.

Byron Thomas? Publisher, correct?

And you are? Kate Warne.

Pinkerton National Detective Agency.

A lady Pinkerton.

I bet you have some stories.

Let me buy you a drink.

So, what are you doing in Kansas City

at a rival publisher's book event,

where said publisher winds up dead?

You get straight to the point, don't you?

Always.

Hmm.

I confess. I was interested in the book.

Who wouldn't be? It's a surefire success.

Milton Kroft beat me to it. Lucky dog.

Not so lucky.

Yes, well...

What are you doing in Kansas City?

I came to gauge the public's reaction

in a city divided by north/south sympathies.

Or perhaps to see if Leila was still happy with Kroft?

Maybe you could sweeten the pot,

get her to jump ship, come over to you?

Something like that.

Well, now that road's completely clear for negotiation.

Tread lightly if you're suggesting.

Oh, I'm not suggesting.

I'm not a murderer, Mrs. Warne.

If I were you, I would talk with Seymour,

Miss Leila's sister's husband.

Now that's a man with motive.

How so? A very generous deal

is about to land in Seymour's lap.

A reconstruction contract for a bridge here in Kansas City.

But if details got out about his association

with Rose Greenhow,

his whole business venture could collapse.

He'd lose a fortune.

SEYMOUR: Yes, of course the book could damage my business.

Any fool can tell you that.

I am a banker. Reputation is everything.

Did you ever try to stop Leila

from publishing her book?

You ever try to stop Leila of anything?

She's a wilful girl.

Uncontrollable, as far as I am concerned.

Now, let me to be blunt.

Yes, I have a lot to be gained from this construction contract,

but my bid is solid.

Book, no book.

But you don't much care for Leila.

She's my sister-in-law,

and I look after her.

Yes, foisted upon you by a determined patriot

of a mother on the wrong side of the war.

It must be very frustrating.

It is accurate to say that Leila is rebellious

and a source of constant discord in my home.

Look, the sooner that she garners success from that book

and is out of my house, the better it is for everyone.

(Gasping)

No, I didn't see who it was.

Can I get you some ice for your head?

I'm fine.

The bleeding's stopped.

But who would do this?

Your attacker was more than likely

searching for your manuscript.

Which is where, by the way?

Safely hidden.

At least I hope it still is.

Underneath the rug.

Here it is.

Leila, you're not safe as long as you keep that manuscript.

I'm not letting it out of my sight.

Just for a little while.

We're the Pinkertons. We'll keep it safe.

And you.

It's not just a book. It's my story.

I know.

Protect it.

I will.

KATE: The real question is,

who wants that manuscript badly enough to do this?

Someone who didn't want to see it published.

You can't honestly believe I'd attack my own sister.

Perhaps you were in Leila's room searching for her manuscript.

She walked in, you got scared, panicked.

Hit her?

I would never cause my sister any harm.

Where were you last night?

At the Buffalo Head Hotel the entire evening.

Seymour and I were having dinner with our friends, the Weavers.

I'll have to confirm that with them.

What about the night that Milton Kroft was shot and killed?

We were in our hotel room.

Just you and your husband?

Yes.

So no third party to vouch for you.

We were unaware that we'd need to be vouched for.

BYRON: Don't you look wonderful this fine morning.

LEILA: You're too kind.

BYRON: Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Miss Greenhow.

LEILA: Your note spoke of some urgency, Mr. Thomas.

BYRON: Indeed.

I attended your reading the other night.

And I was transfixed by your account

of your mother's exploits.

And may I compliment you on your authorship.

Your style is most eloquent.

I'm flattered, of course, sir,

but do wish you'd state your purpose.

I run a new publishing house in New York City.

I've contacted my colleagues there,

and we agree that the story of Rose Greenhow must be told.

The death of Milton Kroft should not be in vain.

You want the publishing rights to my book.

I do.

And I'd be willing to pay handsomely for those rights.

It would be an honour.

My desire to publish is wavering, sir,

in light of Milton's death.

I'm concerned for the safety

of those associated with my book.

Hmm.

There's a saying in my business, Miss Greenhow.

"Publish or be damned."

The enemies of your book are no match for the truth.

Are there risks? Yes.

But stouter hearts must prevail.

We are talking about an accurate telling of history.

I need time to reflect on that.

Of course.

But I am here now

with a very generous offer on the table.

Two thousand dollars for the rights,

plus 20% of all profits.

Mr. Thomas, I will consider your offer.

One could ask for no more.

I will take my leave of you, then.

Don't you have anything better to do?

I let you both down.

Actually, I don't think you did.

And why is this?

It's intriguing, isn't it?

That Byron was even aware he was being followed?

Meaning?

He's a publisher. An ordinary citizen.

Ordinary citizens don't normally check

to see if they're under surveillance.

So Mr. Thomas had a reason to check over his shoulder.

KATE: Exactly.

I want to know what that reason is.

Let's go.

And you guard this while we're gone.

It's been nothing but trouble.

KATE: More than that.

Read it. We haven't had a chance yet.

Look for anything that stands out as a motive for murder.

Of course. I'll do my best.

You know, whoever killed Milton Kroft

and attacked Leila for the manuscript

isn't going to stop, right?

They'll be back.

Whoa.

Looks like our search has ended.

I'll be dammed.

(No audio)

(Will sighing)

WILL: What the hell is going on?

I sent you a telegram yesterday.

You didn't respond.

I am here, am I not?

In response to my telegram?

Yes, of course.

What time did you get in?

Got here on the 12:15.

And what were you doing meeting with Byron Thomas?

Byron Thomas, the publisher? What of him?

So you do know him.

Yes. He approached to write my memoirs.

When?

That was two years ago.

Why were you meeting with him now?

What is this, an interrogation?

Are you aware that Thomas is a suspect

in the murder of Milton Kroft?

Milton Kroft, the publisher?

Mm-hmm. No, I was not.

And what have you got on Byron Thomas?

He was a rival of Kroft's.

Wanted to publish Leila Greenhow's book.

Well, that isn't much, if you don't mind me saying.

Uh, you've got...

Well, you've got motive and no evidence.

Going to have to cast your net a wee bit wider.

So you do know that Leila Greenhow is in town,

and everything she's been saying about you?

Yes, I have heard.

And it doesn't concern you?

No. It's utter horse manure.

Why should it concern me?

People have written about me before.

They will again.

I pay no attention to it.

Why should you?

Now, haven't you got a murder to solve?

Well, why don't you get on with it

instead of listening to malicious gossip.

And keep me apprised, will you?

Hmm.

They're coming after me now, for God's sake.

The Pinkertons think I attacked you and killed Milton.

I told them you would never do such a thing.

And I didn't.

You know me.

I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure.

What do you mean by that?

When you started this book,

I said it would be nothing but trouble.

Now look where we are. All I did was tell the truth.

Your version of it. Mother's version of it.

You'd tell any version

if it garnered the attention you crave.

How could you put our family's reputation at risk?

What reputation?

Mother's already taken care of that.

(Gasping)

Oh!

You ungrateful child.

After all Seymour and I have done for you.

All you care about is what Seymour thinks.

(Knocking at door) BOTH: Who is it?!

ALLAN: It's Allan Pinkerton. Open up.

He's hiding something.

That's what your father does.

But hiding something from us?

We've seen this before.

The secrecy. The deception.

He always brings us into his confidence in the end.

You maybe. Me, he's kept in the dark for years.

Probably for your own protection.

Right.

Don't you think it's weird that he met with Byron

before contacting us?

It could have been a chance meeting.

In my experience, my father does nothing by chance.

Don't overestimate your father's way of doing things.

He's hiding information, breaking protocol.

I'm telling you, there's something else going on.

He just won't tell us.

He won't.

But maybe Byron will.

Yes, your father and I discussed publishing his memoirs.

I couldn't believe my luck. The great detective himself

approaching me on the streets of Kansas City.

So that was the first time you discussed publishing his book?

That's right.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Thomas.

Clearly one of them is lying about when they met.

I think I know who.

Don't jump to conclusions.

The more you paint your father as the devil,

the more he'll resemble him.

Your father, he threatened me.

He threatened you?

When I hired the Pinkertons, I thought you would protect me.

What did he say to you?

He said if I don't give him the manuscript,

my life will be in danger.

From him?

That was my impression.

Does he know that we have the manuscript?

I didn't want to tell him.

Good. Keep it that way.

We'll speak with him.

And all I'm saying is, if you're acting like the devil,

then maybe you are one.

I just want to hear Allan's side of the story.

You always take his side.

I trust him implicitly.

He's my mentor and my friend.

And I'm not your friend?

Don't answer that.

(Sighing)

Well, your friend is also not in his room.

Precisely. No, no, no. Where are you going?

We'll catch up with him later. And miss the perfect opportunity

to look around? Give me your lock pick.

We are not breaking into Allan's room.

Invading his privacy?

And finding out what the hell is going on.

Come on, give it to me. I said no.

Oh!

Will, please don't to this. It's wrong.

It'd be wrong for me not to do it.

(Sighing)

Ladies first.

Well, then go ahead.

I'm not going in there. Suit yourself.

(Sighing)

What are you doing in there?

(Rummaging) (Sighing)

Admit it, Will.

Even for you, this is a desperate move.

After he threatened Leila? I don't think so.

That is merely her version of events.

Oh, yeah?

How about this?

.24 calibre.

Like the murder weapon.

Where did you find this?

In here.

It was right here, underneath his pillow.

The smell of sulphur around the breach and muzzle.

This gun was fired recently.

To kill Milton Kroft?

ALLAN: Ah.

I see you found the murder weapon.

No more beating around the bush.

What are you really doing in Kansas City?

Either tell us,

or we'll have to take you in.

(Lock clicking)

LOGAN: Why do you want him locked up?

To force him to level with us.

If you think that's going to work,

you don't know your father.

Well, maybe not, but we have to try something.

One man is dead, and other people are in danger.

You're being framed, and you could hang for that.

Who the hell are you protecting?

I have nothing to say,

except that I made a promise to a man that cannot be broken.

A promise to whom?

Fine. Let him hang.

You don't mean that.

Of course not.

But we got to get him to talk. I don't know what else to do.

Let me try.

Allan.

You know I'm a man of my word.

I know that.

And I respect that.

But whatever this is, you can trust me with it.

I can help you.

It's too late.

There's too much at stake.

When has there been more at stake

than on that train through Baltimore?

Allan, you trusted me

with the life of a president.

Right.

And I would again.

Then what is this about? You have to tell me.

(Cell door slamming)

I do not have to tell you anything.

Your are my employee,

and you will do as you are told.

(Door opening)

(Door closing)

What the hell happened to you?

Same thing that happened to you.

Your father.

He didn't talk to you either, did he?

Nope.

Look, you can't take it personal.

You do. Yeah, well, I'm his son.

What does that make me?

His employee.

He's a hard man, and you know it.

But I'm more than an employee.

I'm like family.

And he's treating you the same way he treats us.

Welcome to the family, Kate.

Family.

Who's the one person that your father values

more than family?

There's only one: Lincoln.

But Lincoln's dead.

Secrets live on.

Secrets were Rose Greenhow's stock and trade.

And she was the bane of the Lincoln administration.

And with a daughter about to reveal the details

of her mother's treachery.

The manuscript.

Kenji.

(Logan sighing)

(Sighing)

Buy you a drink?

No, thanks.

Suit yourself.

You know, it's funny.

My dear mother enjoys a shot every night before bedtime.

Sometimes two.

Of course, she says her prayers first.

I don't drink.

According to Leila Greenhow, you do.

(Laughing)

If one were inclined to believe such things.

I must say this is...

interesting.

The great Allan Pinkerton in my jail cell.

I'm glad you find it entertaining.

Entertaining?

Oh, hell, if these charges stick and you hang,

I'm going to be a legend.

Not that I want that.

Just where do you think you're going with this, then, Sheriff?

That secret of yours.

Tell me, I could help you out.

I'm not without some influence, you know.

I know that you are a man of some influence, Sheriff.

(Laughing): Well...

glad you can see that.

Or should I say

a man under the influence?

I'll get along very well, thank you,

without your help.

Mr. Pinkerton, you and I both know

that you can lock a man up, but rarely his secrets.

Leave it.

They will come out...

sir.

(Chair scraping)

From what I've read,

your father had motive to kill the publisher.

You mean you didn't finish it?

No.

Three pages were missing.

Someone removed them?

Who would do this?

Why would I remove any pages?

I wrote the book.

No one else had access to it.

Except Milton Kroft, and he's dead.

I trusted you to safeguard my manuscript.

And we have, Miss Greenhow.

It hasn't left our sight since you gave it to us.

Let me see it.

What was in those pages that someone wanted to hide?

You have no shame, do you?

Mind your manners, Leila.

And you, Seymour,

caring only for your business interests.

What did you write about?

Go ahead, Florence.

Or should I?

It concerned a profitable business arrangement

between Seymour and the federal government.

Florence, please-- Made possible by my mother,

to secure reconstruction contracts.

And if it became known that your husband's business

had been enriched by a notorious Confederate spy...

It would have ruined Seymour's reputation.

You childish ingrate!

KATE: Seymour and Florence Moore,

you are under arrest for the murder of Milton Kroft.

Let's go.

ALLAN: You're making a big mistake.

These two have nothing to do with this.

Listen to this man.

Now, Sheriff, I urge you to reconsider.

Quite frankly I do not know who to believe anymore.

FLORENCE: I'll be sure to convey that to our lawyer.

LOGAN: You do that.

Listen, these two are innocent. Don't ask me how I know.

I just know.

Where's Leila?

The hotel.

She is in grave danger.

You stay here until I can figure this out.

Give me my gun.

Give me my gun now.

It's on my desk.

She's not here. She must be upstairs.

Put your guns down.

Kate. (Sighing)

You know what to do.

My guess is that Byron Thomas is not a publisher.

No kidding. Everything about him says operative.

Hairpin!

WILL: How did we not see this?

He's good.

And dangerous.

(Both grunting)

If this involves Washington, he's lethal.

My father didn't even warn us.

Ugh! Here. Give this to me.

Oh!

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Give me your foot! Quit pulling! Ow!

Ow! Ah!

(Patrons chattering indistinctly)

I need your manuscript, Miss Greenhow.

If you want to publish it don't threaten to shoot me.

This is actually about not publishing it.

It's under lock and key with the Pinkertons.

You'll need me to get it.

(Gasping)

ALLAN: Byron Thomas,

you are under arrest

for the murder of Milton Kroft.

This isn't over, Pinkerton.

After all I wrote about you, you saved my life.

Well, you're an innocent lass.

You're as much a victim of your mother's lies

as I was.

Come on.

And here we go.

You're going to bring it up, aren't you?

Wouldn't you?

Not if I knew how pointless it was.

(Humming)

Hello, Kate.

(Snapping fingers) William.

Would you mind explaining

why Milton Kroft has been murdered?

Because the truth is a threat to those in power.

That's not an answer.

(Snapping) Well, it's going to have to do

for now, isn't it?

Listen, the point is

that Milton Kroft's killer is now in jail.

And that is a good thing.

Is that all you care about?

You look surprised.

Well, I am, just a little bit.

You broke a trust.

For the sake of another trust.

But not to me. Not to Kate.

Well, I am very sorry, boy, but that's life, isn't it?

Archie, bring me my two boiled eggs and a tea.

Received this a few minutes ago.

That's life.

Thanks.

This is from Washington, D.C.

From the War Department!

Where is he?

Train station.

Byron Thomas has been released.

By the War Department?

(Scoffing) No, no, no, no.

You said it yourself. It's pointless.

But the killer is no longer behind bars.

And my father made it very clear:

it's his problem, not ours.

So, what do we do now?

You and I are Pinkertons.

And we'll continue to do what we've always done.

(Kate sighing)

(Indistinct chattering)

ALLAN: Don't worry.

I'm not going to slug you.

I'd like to.

Your Gorbals upbringing.

Yeah, I got over that.

Violence doesn't get you anywhere...

as is clearly illustrated

by your handling of this case.

We're old warriors, Allan,

fighting on the same side but working at cross purposes.

I beg to differ.

Lincoln said it himself.

"We are not enemies."

"We must not be enemies.

"Though passion may have strained,

"it must not break the bonds of our affection.

"The mystic chords of memory

"will swell when again touched,

"as surely they will be,

by the better angels of our nature."

Yeah, I was a great admirer of Lincoln.

But he wasn't always right.

I read that manuscript last night.

Not one word about that secret

that you've been protecting all these years.

Nothing.

You killed an innocent man.

I wouldn't like to be in your shoes

when you're getting off that train in Washington, D.C.

(Train bell clanging)

ALLAN: You're to go to Hampton Roads,

then from there on to Richmond.

This pardon comes from the Secretary of War himself?

Mm-hmm.

You must have him sorely compromised.

That is what I do.

Yours is a sordid business.

Yours is little better, Mr. Pinkerton.

Lies, deceit and betrayal are common to us both.

And your president,

for all his lofty rhetoric and high-minded ideals,

he had to know about this arrangement,

had to be willing to lower himself to the back room deal

that led to my release.

You...

We all have our dark sides...

Rose.

Some of us just rise above it.

(Train bell clanging) (Train chugging)

NARRATOR: Next week, on The Pinkertons...

A Pinkerton agent killed in Kansas City in broad daylight?

Five bushwhackers broke out of state prison,

including a kid named Jesse James.

I've had enough of baby Pinkerton.

So you tell him to meet me in Main Street tomorrow.

- High noon. - You mean a gunfight?

I got a show I need you to take.

The whole town is betting against you, Will.

I've been challenged I can't turn him down.