All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries (2008) - S06E02 - Winstons Lost Night (1080p BluRay x265 Langbard)

Subtitling made possible by
RLJ Entertainment.

[ Sighs ]

- Now, Henry.
- Sir, I...

It's all right.
Don't be afraid.

Ha, ha, hal.

What's that, sir?

Something I've been
experimenting with.

It's an Induction Balance
Machine.

Okay, sir.
And it turns on lights, does it?

'Cause we have switches
for that.

It's capable of far more
than that, Henry.

CRABTREE:
Sir?

It seems there's been a...
Sweet mother of...

You see, it can detect metal.

It could be very useful
in gathering evidence.

Sir, make it stop, please.

MURDOCH:
What have you, George?

Sir, there's been a murder
at the Palace Hotel.

Oh.

[ Knock on door ]

MURDOCH:
Toronto Constabulary!

In a minute.

What the devil...

[ Knock on door ]

Stop knocking,
for the love of God!

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

Yes. You've made that
deafeningly clear.

We've had a call.

What the devil?

Reginald!
My God, Reginald.

MURDOCH:
Please. Please.

Don't touch the body.
Do you know who this man is?

His name is Reginald Mayfair.

He was a friend.

MURDOCH:
And you are?

Churchill.

Winston Churchill.

What happened here
last night, Mr. Churchill?

[...I don't know.

We went for drinks last night.

And?

That's all I remember.

Doctor?

Rigor mortis is just setting in.

Death would have occurred
sometime last night.

He suffered a superficial wound
to the forearm,

but that's not what killed him.

It looks like he was killed
by a knife.

A very large knife.

Possibly even a sword.

A sword?

CRABTREE:
Sir.

I found this in the bedroom.

Mr. Churchill,

I'm afraid you are going to
have to come down

to the station.

BRACKENREID:
Murdoch!

You've got Winston Churchill
locked up in our cells.

He's awaiting my interview, sir.
He's a suspect in the case.

A suspect?

A suspect?
He's Winston bloody Churchill.

He's in town to deliver
a lecture tonight.

He may not make his lecture,
Sir.

The murder weapon
may be a sword,

and a bloody sword was found
in Mr. Churchill's room.

What does he have to say
about it?

He doesn't remember a thing.
He'd been drinking.

I've been there.

Trust me, Murdoch.
Murder isn't in the man.

- I've read his stuff.
- MURDOCH: As have I, sir.

All of the newspapers carried
his account

of his escape from the Boers.

Oh, everyone goes on and on

about his escape
from the bloody Boers.

It's his battle stories
you should read.

They send shivers
down your spine.

Did you know he was in
the cavalry charge at Omdurman?

400 Lancers
against 3,000 crazed Dervishes.

Limbs flying everywhere.
Bracing stuff.

You don't suppose
he'd be willing to sign

my autograph book, do you?

Reginald Mayfair and I met
in the Sudan.

He was with the infantry.
I was with the cavalry.

After the campaign,
he emigrated to Canada.

Naturally,
we arranged to meet up

once I arrived in Toronto.

Mr. Churchill, what can you
tell us about last night?

We met at my hotel.

We had brandy and cigars.

Then we went to Reginald's club
and...

That's it?
That's all you remember?

Until I was awakened
by your knock this morning.

The sword in your room...

CHURCHILL:
I've never seen it before.

Gentlemen,
Reginald was my friend.

I would never hurt him,

let alone kill him.

We have no reason to doubt you,
Mr. Churchill.

Nevertheless, until we learn
more about last night's events,

you will be required
to stay here.

I should cancel
tonight's lecture.

Nonsense. We'll have
this sorted out in no time.

- Sir.
- I have tickets, Murdoch.

If you remember anything,

- anything at all...
- Of course.

Detective, I want Reginald's
killer brought to justice.

I care more about that
than proving my own innocence.

BRACKENREID:
Mr. Churchill...

I've collected some notable
signatures over the years,

and it would be a great honor...

You wish me to sign
your autograph book?

If that's no trouble.

I would have thought
the collection of autographs

more the province of pimply boys
and silly girls

than a police inspector tasked

with determining the identity of
the man who murdered my friend.

Why, you...

[ Knock on door, door opens I]

Sirs.

I've compared the fingermarks
on the sword

to that of Mr. Churchill here.

- And?
- They're a match.

Impossible.

He was my friend.

Be that as it may,
facts are facts.

Unless you can explain to us
how that sword got in your hand,

then you're looking good
for the murder.

Perhaps I was a little hasty

in suggesting that you might
make that lecture tonight.

I suggest you sit back down.

DR. GRACE:
He was a young man.

Not a lot of adipose tissue
to insulate the corpse.

And given the nature
of his wound,

I think we can assume
that death would have followed

within minutes,
if not seconds, after the blow.

And?

So assuming a constant
room temperature of 70 degrees,

I've determined
that the fatal incident occurred

between 1:30 and 2:00
last night.

And the wounds?

As you know, there were two.

The one to the forearm
is superficial,

but it would have been bloody.

He also has some bruising
around his left eye.

Suggesting he was
in a fist fight.

Yes.

But given the extent
of the contusion,

I'd estimate that occurred at
least an hour before his death.

And the fatal wound?

Yes. I think you'll find
this very interesting.

The incision is two inches
in width.

The weapon entered
just below the sternum

and exited
between the 7th and 8th costal.

He was run through.

Whoever did this
certainly meant to kill him.

Then we know for certain
the murder weapon was a sword.

Thank you.

Ah, so that's the murder weapon,
is it?

Possibly, sir.

But have a look at this.

If this sword was used
to run the man through,

wouldn't there be blood
across the entire width,

not just the edge?

Perhaps he wiped it clean?

Then why not wipe
the entire sword?

He was drunk.

Sirs, Churchill's valet is here.

He's brought Mr. Churchill
some fresh clothes.

He has a bloody valet, does he?

Sir, I can't help but notice

it seems you've turned
against your hero.

I'd forgotten what
an arrogant toff he actually is.

He travels with bloody servants,
for God sakes.

Real men carry their own bags,
Murdoch.

Ah.
Thank you, sir.

[ Clears throat ]

We met in the Sudan
two years ago.

I've worked for him
since that time.

During that time,
have you ever known him

to experience
alcohol-induced memory loss?

Mr. Churchill doesn't remember
anything of last night's events.

None at all?

None that he'll admit to.

Well, I will say this.

If Mr. Churchill tells you
he cannot remember,

then you can take him
at his word.

He never lies.

Not even to spare
one's feelings.

Um...

What can you tell me
about last night's events?

Not much, I am afraid.

I escorted Mr. Churchill
and Mr. Mayfair

to the Albany Club.

Mr. Churchill dismissed me
after that.

What time was this?

Approximately 9:00.

Thank you, Mr. Ahmadi.

The constable will take
the rest of your information.

And remember, if there's
anything else that you recall,

please don't hesitate
to contact me.

Of course.

Sir, according to guests

staying next to
Churchill's suite,

there was loud voices
and clashing sounds

at around 1:45 a.m.

We also have a witness

who claims that she saw a man
leaving Churchill's suite

shortly thereafter, at 2:00 a.m.

- Did she offer a description?
- Only that he was Negro.

- That narrows the list.
- Excuse me.

I couldn't help but overhear.

I should tell you that
Mr. Churchill's boot man

is Negro.

His name is Jim Carver.

Thank you, Mr. Ahmadi.

Crabtree, find Mr. Carver.

I'd like to take a crack at him.

Oh, and bring the witness in
as well.

Sir.

Is that the man that you saw

leaving Mr. Churchill's suite
last night?

Yes. That's him.

I didn't kill anybody.

I was just there to polish
Mr. Churchill's boots.

At 2:00 in the morning?

He always likes his boots
waiting for him

first thing in the morning.

I didn't want to have to get up
that early.

Was Mr. Churchill in his room
at the time?

Yes. I heard him snoring.

And you didn't notice
a dead body lying on the floor?

Mr. Churchill always leaves
his boots right by the door.

That's where I polished them,
right out in the hallway.

BRACKENREID:
What time was this?

Round about 2:30.

Not 2:00?

No, sir.
I was still out at that time.

- It's not him.
- I agree.

He's only been
in Mr. Churchill's employ

for two weeks.

He didn't even know
Reginald Mayfair.

Well, what about
the time discrepancy?

Perhaps the witness
was in error.

You say she identified
Jim Carver

as the man she saw leaving.

Yet he's adamant he didn't
arrive at the hotel until 2:30.

Sirs.

Sirs, it's Mr. Churchill.

He's demanding an audience.

Demanding, is he?

I'll give him bloody demanding.

Sir.

Detective, I've found a clue.

I found this in my pocket.

It's a match cover.
What about it?

CHURCHILL:
Look inside.

MURDOCH:
Vinwosni.

It must be a name of some sort.
What kind of name is Vinwosni?

Indian, possibly?

I spent some time in India
with the 4th Hussars.

We had a Vosniak, didn't we?

Yes, sir. Wosniak.

Wosniak. Polish chap.

Perhaps it's Van Wosni.

Gentlemen, we need to find
this Vinwosni fellow.

He may be able to shed
some light

on what happened last night.

Sirs, I was unable to find
anybody by the name of Vinwosni

on public records.

It must mean something.

CRABTREE:
I'm beginning to wonder

if it's not the name
of a person,

but of an exotic foreign dish,
you know.

BRACKENREID:
So, where do we go from here?

I'll make inquiries
at the gentlemen's club.

CHURCHILL:
Take me with you.

- Not bloody likely.
- CHURCHILL: Please.

What is the benefit
of keeping me behind bars

while his killer struts about
freely?

I'm Winston Churchill.

I'm hardly going to make a run
for it.

Tell that to the Boers.

That was different.
I was a prisoner of war.

Clearly, I'm the most valuable
witness to last night's events.

Retracing our steps might
jar loose fragments of memory.

He has a point, sir.

Thank you, gentlemen.

My good man, will you be so kind
as to fetch my hat and stick?

I appreciate you releasing me
from jail, Detective.

Oh, look, a bulldog.

I always thought
they should be enshrined

as our national symbol.

Because of
their stubborn tenacity?

No, because they look so much
like our queen.

Of course, given my fondness
for food and drink,

I may end up looking
like one myself someday.

- [ Barks ]
- Anyway, onwards.

I've been here.

MURDOCH: Well, yes,
I suppose you would have.

The Albany Club
is just around the corner.

I'm inside the penumbra
of memory, Detective.

It's coming back to me.

Excellent.

MAN:
Ah, welcome back, Mr. Churchill.

Splendid speech, my boy.

Gave us genuine pause, it did.

I'm sorry.
I don't remember.

Mr. Churchill has
no recollection

of last night's events.

Oh, had a merry one, did you?

Don't worry, my boy.
We've all been there.

If memory serves,
you were halfway there already.

Gentlemen, what did happen?

Reginald came in
with Mr. Churchill,

and Edward here shouted out,

"Hail to the men
who exacted Gordon's revenge."

General Gordon.

He was the governor
in the Sudan back in '84.

Beheaded, he was.
By the Dervishes.

Led by the fanatical Mahdi,
as I recall.

It took 13 years,

but Lord Kitchener
finally defeated the Dervishes

at the Battle of Omdurman.

Was that the revenge
to which you were referring?

MAN:
Nay.

It was the revenge
against the Mahdi himself

that we hailed you for.

But the Mahdi was already dead.

Yes, and after the battle,
Kitchener raided his tomb.

Disinterred his corpse
and had it thrown in the Nile.

But not before he bestowed
upon Reginald

the dubious honor
of removing his skull.

Good Lord.

Kitchener intended to use it
as an inkpot.

We all thought it
splendid stuff.

Tit for tat and all that.

CHURCHILL:
And I spoke against it.

You remember?

No, but it's what
I would have done.

You didn't speak against it,
sir. You roared.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

This act.

This act you hail so heartily
was barbarous.

Shameful.

It degraded not just
the men who committed it.

It degraded every man, woman,
and child

of the British Empire.

MAN:
You shamed us, sir.

Yes.
It was a shame we deserved.

You spoke about what it was
to be British.

How an empire brings with it
not only glory,

but a grave responsibility to
bring civilization to the world.

Barbarism is a trait
which lessens us as a people.

It makes us no better
than our enemies.

We are Britons, not thugs.

We are civilization.

[ Cheering ]

God bless me,
I had tears in my eyes.

Yes. I believe even Reginald
was moved.

Where is young Reggie, anyway?

He's dead. Murdered.

Oh, good God in heaven.

Yes, gentlemen.
That is why we are here.

We're trying to piece together
what happened last night.

There's not much to say,
I'm afraid.

You and Reginald had cigars,
had a few drinks,

and then left.

No hostilities?

No.
Everyone seemed very jolly.

Mm-hmm.

Do you know where they went?

Did anyone follow them?

Anyone here
by the name of Vinwosni?

Vinwosni? What the devil
kind of name is that?

People have the impression
that battle is glorious.

I myself was once invested
in the same impression.

At Omdurman,
we faced 50,000 Dervishes

attacking in a front
a half mile wide,

all cheering for God,
his prophet,

and the Holy Khalifa.

In any other century,

it would have made
a terrifying spectacle.

They never stood a chance.

Artillery and maxim guns
tore them to pieces.

They never got closer
than 50 yards.

Kitchener then executed
the wounded and dying.

There was no glory
in that victory.

What next, Detective?

We can't knock on every door
in Toronto

and ask if Reginald
and I dropped in last night.

No. No, we can't. Oh.

Perhaps a newspaper.

Ah, good idea.

An advertisement.

"$50 for information
on the happenstance

of Winston Churchill
and his chum."

No, no.
There was an article yesterday

proclaiming your arrival
to Toronto.

Perhaps there's also something

about what you were up to
last night.

Ah.

Oh.

Bit of a step down
from the front page.

"A society party thrown
by Mrs. Gertrude Miller

was enlivened greatly
by the arrival..."

Who is Gertrude Miller?

She's one of Toronto's
leading temperance advocates.

She just lives on Jarvis,
around the corner.

Brilliant, Detective.

Let's go.

Anything?

Mr. Churchill.

Have you come to apologize?

If necessary.

I believe I've had quite enough
of your apologies, thank you.

Show them the door.

Well,
I confess I'm even more curious

about what happened last night.

What, the slap didn't jar
your memory?

Can't we bring her
to the station

and extract the information
directly?

Her fingernails
should be easy to pull out.

No.
We have an even better witness.

What else can you tell us,
Mr. Purcell?

Well, I was just there
to cover the party.

I wasn't expecting
to get much copy out of it.

Then you walked
through the door.

Why would I attend
a temperance party?

PURCELL: Well, I believe
you'd been invited.

At any rate, you and
your friend came in half drunk,

and when you learned
there was no liquor,

you bribed the footman

into fetching
a bottle of whiskey.

And what was
Mrs. Miller's reaction to that?

Well, that's when
the fun started.

Mr. Churchill.

You've brought whiskey
to my party?

I had no choice, madam. There
was none here when we arrived.

I'll have you know

that abstention
is the philosophy of this house.

I'm sorry. I was unaware.

- Unaware?
- CHURCHILL: In my experience,

houses are not generally
capable of philosophy.

But it doesn't surprise me,
given their lack of intellect,

that the best they could muster
would be abstention.

Does not the Bible teach us

that alcohol
is the enemy to virtue?

Does not the same Bible
also teach us

the virtue
of loving our enemies?

I must insist that you put
down that drink at once.

Very well.

Mr. Churchill, you insult me.

Madam, I insulted only
your bovine philosophy.

If I intended to insult you,

I would have called attention
to your bovine intellect.

But I did insult your house,

and, for that slip of
the tongue, I apologize.

Well, that solves one mystery.

What happened after that?

Well, you both left.
Rather promptly.

Where did they go?

I'm sorry. I have no idea.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

- Julia.
- William.

I thought you might be
interested to know

that Darcy and I are due to see
the judge tomorrow.

MURDOCH:
About your annulment.

But I thought that wasn't until
next month.

Darcy wanted it done
before his trip.

To allow the gossip
a chance to dissipate

in his absence.

So this time tomorrow...

I'll be a free woman.

Detective, I wonder if I might
trouble you for a word.

Mr. Churchill,
how wonderful to see you again.

Julia, you've met Mr. Churchill
before?

Last night.

Berty and Lois took me
out to their club,

and Mr. Churchill was there.

Or are you still going by
the name Reginald Mayfair?

Unfortunately,
Reginald has been killed.

Oh, how dreadful.

I was calling myself Mayfair?

Your friend thought
that given your fame,

it would be better
to sully his name than yours.

Do you know what became of them?

I have no memory of last night.

Mr. Churchill and Mr. Mayfair

were having a grand time
impersonating one another.

It was all good fun
until the incident.

The incident?

Gertrude Miller's husband
showed up

just as we were all leaving.

[ Laughter ]

Mr. Miller.

Which one of you is Churchill?

That would be me.

I'll kill you! I willl.

MURDOCH:
Right.

We'll have to have
a little chat with Mr. Miller.

So you admit to punching
Mr. Mayfair?

I thought he'd insulted my wife.

For God sakes,
I didn't kill the man.

Is he our man?

Well, he certainly has
the motive.

- [ Knock on door ]
- CRABTREE: Sirs.

Doctor.
We contacted Mrs. Miller.

According to her,

Mr. Miller came home
directly after the incident

and was with her
the rest of the night.

Well, she would say that,
wouldn't she?

Still, it will be a hard alibi
to break.

I'm sorry, gentlemen,
but I don't think it was him.

His wife had been insulted.

He felt the need
to defend her honor.

He did so by punching
the man he thought responsible.

His anger should have been
ameliorated, not intensified.

I have to agree.

So, where does that leave us?

Right back where we started,
I'm afraid.

With Churchill
as our number-one suspect.

Well, that suits me fine.

Sir, the few times I've...
imbibed a little too much,

I must admit to a patchy memory.

But forgetting
an entire evening?

- Could he have been drugged?
- DR. OGDEN: It's possible.

He could also be suffering

from what is known
as traumatic amnesia.

Because he witnessed
the murder of his friend.

And the reality
was so abhorrent to him,

that his unconscious mind has
blocked out all memory of it.

If that is the case,
then the memory is still there.

You just have to unlock it.

How do we do that?

We'd need him to re-experience

anything associated
with last night.

If he has any sensation
of familiarity,

ask him the first word
that comes to mind.

CRABTREE: Sir, here is
everything we found

in Mr. Churchill's suite
as of this morning.

Thank you, George.

Mr. Churchill,
look closely at this.

What's the first word
that comes to mind?

Shame.

Shame?

It's a good cigar.
Shame it was wasted.

Mr. Churchill.

It was the first thought
that entered my head.

Try again.

Concentrate on the cigar.

Relax your mind
and say the first...

Match.

Light. Smoke rings.
A cigar is just a bloody cigar!

Sir.

Look here.
Paper matches.

This is the type they sell
at Murphy's pub.

Murphy's pub?

Do you recognize the name?

I don't know.

What's the first word
that comes to mind?

Rule.

Rule?

Britannia.

You again.

You've got a bloody nerve
coming back in here again.

Gentlemen, gentlemen,
Toronto Constabulary.

Still hiding behind John Law,
are ya?

All right, back off, all of you.
I'll have no more trouble.

- What trouble?
- Why don't you ask him?

- I don't remember.
- BARTENDER: Not surprised.

You were falling down drunk.
As was your jelly boned friend.

[ Irish music plays ]

[ Laughter ]

Bartender.

A whiskey for my friend
and another for me.

Hey.

This here is an Irish pub.

Make that two Irish whiskeys.

You're not welcome here, friend.

Oh, you're not my friend,
but the rest of these men are.

Drinks on the house!

[ Cheering ]

BARTENDER: Things calmed down
for a bit after that.

Until Reagan started singing
his bloody rebel songs.

REAGAN: I Go back home,
ye bloody British ♪

♪ Go back home
from whence ye came ♪

♪ And never set
your bloody boots ♪

♪ On Ireland again ♪

♪ Rule, Britannia ♪

♪ Britannia rules the waves ♪

♪ Britons never, never
shall be slaves ♪

BARTENDER:
Enough!

No more singing.

Get back to your seats.

And that's where
it might have ended,

but you had to open
your big trap.

You should feel honored

to be part of the greatest
empire the world has seen.

MAYFAIR: Honored? Where is
the honor in being conquered?

Better to be the arm
of a great beast

than the scat it leaves behind.

Are you calling Ireland scat?

Perhaps you're not familiar
with the concept of metaphor.

Run. Now.

BARTENDER: And that's the last
I saw of them.

The rest of us chased them
down Queen Street,

until they took refuge
behind a copper,

still singing
"Rule bloody Britannia."

What happened then?

[ Chuckles ]
The copper arrested them.

MURDOCH:
Here it is. 12:45 a.m.

They were here.
In our cells.

I thought there was something
familiar about this place.

The arresting officer was...

Jackson!

Did you arrest this man
last night?

Yeah, him and his friend.

Bloody hell.

It was for their own good.

Singing "Rule, Britannia"
in Corktown?

They were looking for a beating.

How long were they here?

I kept them in
until the bars closed,

and then I released them
with a strict warning.

No more singing.

BRACKENREID:
What then?

I went back on patrol.

Did you see where they went?

Last I saw, they was heading up
Parliament Street.

CHURCHILL:
Parliament Street.

Does that sound familiar?

Say the first thing
that comes to mind.

Vinwosni.

There's that name again.

I wasn't thinking about it.
It just came out.

Maybe this Vinwosni fellow
lives on that street.

[ Chuckling ]

Back to work, Jackson.

There's an after-hours speakeasy
called Insomnia.

What the devil is he doing?

Just wait and see,
Mr. Churchill.

MURDOCH:
We keep shutting it down,

but it keeps popping back up
with a different sign.

This time,
they've inverted the name.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

You.

Where's my bloody swords?

Officer swords? Brass hilt?

He knows what they look like.
Those are my grandpa's swords.

He used them in the War of 1812.

And they've got
sentimental value, mate.

Those swords were taken
as evidence.

They were used
in the commission of a crime.

Would that crime be murder?

Why would you ask that?

Well, the way you
and your friend

were going at it last night,

I figured one of you
would kill the other.

Ain't that right, Al?

Yeah.

Tell me everything you remember
about last night.

[ Laughter ]

Barkeep.
Some whiskey, if you please.

MAN: You no sooner sat down
than you started in arguing.

About what?

About some gal named...
Maddie.

- Maddie?
- Yeah, Maddie.

Your friend had done
something terrible to her.

But felt he was justified

on account of what she had done
to his friend, Gordon.

That about sum it up, Al?

Yeah.

Reginald and I often debated the
desecration of the Mahdi's tomb.

We'd never come to blows
over it.

MAN:
Oh, it didn't end there.

Then he started jibbing you
about your mother.

- My mother?
- MAN: Yeah, your mother.

All I'm saying is
she has a reputation, old boy.

She's getting married
to a man half her age.

What does that tell you?

That love is not determined
by the year of one's birth.

Well, it tells me

she needed someone
who could keep up with her.

Weapon of choice, sir.

Are you... challenging me
to a duel?

Hey, hey, hey!
What are you doing?

- MURDOCH: Then what?
- MAN: Then they left,

and they took my bloody swords
with them.

Take me in, Detective.

It would appear that I am
the man we are seeking.

MURDOCH:
Julia.

What is it?

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't lie.

Julia,
please speak plainly to me.

The judge didn't grant
the annulment.

Why not?

Oh, William,
it was all my fault.

He asked me, under oath,

if we'd consummated
our marriage.

And I couldn't do it.
I couldn't lie.

I couldn't do that to Darcy.

I see.

But Darcy says
he'll consider a divorce.

A divorce.

Does it really make
a difference?

We can still be together.
We can legally marry.

But not in the eyes of God.

Then, damn God, William!

You know I've been intimate
with men.

And now I'm going to be
divorced. You know this.

- Julia, please.
- DR. OGDEN: This is who I am.

This is the woman
you say you love.

This isn't easy.

I can deal
with the legal matters.

You work it out with your God.

I almost feel sorry for him.

Hell of a thing to kill your own
friend and not even remember it.

Then, again, maybe it's best not
to remember something like that.

The memory loss could be caused

by something called
traumatic amnesia.

Few things would be
more traumatic.

It's a shame.

I had a feeling this Churchill
fellow was going places.

Detective, do you have a minute?

Before I closed the Y incision,

I thought I would weigh
the liver.

Not strictly necessary,

given the cause of death
was obvious.

But I was curious to see the
immediate effects on the liver

of a bout of heavy drinking.

Go on.

And that's when I noticed
that the stomach was nicked.

I thought at first
I had done it myself

during the excision.

But just to be sure,

I decided to track the passage
of the sword through the body.

I'd thought about doing that
anyway.

Not very often one gets
a chance to track a sword wound.

Go on.

I'll show you.

The sword entered here

and exited here.

Detective.

The top of the stomach
sits here.

So how did this sword nick
a stomach

that was sitting
at least an inch lower

than the bottom of the blade?

- It couldn't have.
- Exactly.

It is my conclusion that the
sword that killed Mr. Mayfair

was curved.

Now you think
he's bloody innocent?

Mr. Churchill's sword
was not the murder weapon.

Then how did it get blood on it?

I believe the two men
did have a duel

which ended with
Mr. Mayfair's arm being cut.

The spillage of blood,
no doubt, sobered the men up.

And then someone else came in
after them,

with a different sword?

Yes.

How many bloody swords
are there in Toronto, Murdoch?

So we're back where we started.

In fact, we're back where
we started before we started.

I'd like to return
to the Palace Hotel

with Mr. Churchill.

- To what end?
- Perhaps I can jar his memory.

If he is suffering
from traumatic amnesia,

then perhaps he was
a witness to the murder.

Does anything come to mind,
Mr. Churchill?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

CRABTREE:
Sir.

Have a look at this.

It appears to be
some sort of writing.

MURDOCH: It seems to have
blended into the wallpaper.

Why would somebody bother
writing something

so difficult to see?

Because, George,

when this was written,
it would have been bright red.

It's blood.

It's since dried to
the same color as the wallpaper.

I'm going to need
my ultraviolet light.

Blood, even dried blood,
fluoresces

under ultraviolet light.

- Why blood?
- Not just blood.

Urine, semen.

Scorpions, for some reason.

George,
if you could get the lights...

[ Click ]

- Om...
- CHURCHILL: Omdurman.

Maybe the killer
was taking revenge

for what happened
at the Battle of Omdurman.

Or perhaps for the defiling
of the Mahdi's tomb.

Reginald played a part in that.

Who would know this?

Everybody at the Albany club.

BRACKENREID: But who at
that club would give a tuppence

for the bloody Mahdi?

But the British Empire is not
what defines us as British.

Not to be praised or honored...

Your valet was there.

- BRACKENREID: The Arab fellow?
- My God.

Gentlemen.

Ahmadi is a Nile Arab.

I met him in Khartoum.

What is more, he's a Mohammedan.

When Kitchener defiled the tomb,
he defiled Islam.

Any Mohammedan
would have been enraged.

Let's have a little chat
with him.

I'm a Mohammedan, yes,
but I'm not a fanatic.

I'm not a Mahdist.

You are from the Sudan,
are you not?

- No. I am Egyptian.
- Really?

According to Mr. Churchill,
you met him in Khartoum.

Yes, but I am from Cairo.

Look at my face.
Do I look like a Nubian?

- What do you think?
- He's right, sir.

Most Sudanese Arabs
have Negro features.

Hold it, Murdoch.

Our witness said she saw a Negro
man leaving Churchill's suite.

But she identified the boot man
as the man she saw leaving.

She probably thinks
one looks just like another.

MURDOCH: It wasn't the boot man
she saw leaving.

It was the killer.

MAYFAIR: All I'm saying is
she has a reputation, old boy.

CHURCHILL: Love is not
determined by the year of one's birth.

MAYFAIR: She's getting married
to a man half her age.

There was a Negro man
at the speakeasy.

He would have overheard
the argument

about the desecration
of Mahdi's tomb.

He would know that Mayfair
was responsible.

He could have put the knockout
drug in Mr. Churchill's drink.

Odd that Churchill
never thought to mention him.

He fought against the Sudanese.

He would have known
what they looked like.

You're right, sir.
That is odd.

- George.
- Sir.

Where is Mr. Churchill now?

He said he wanted to return
the swords

to their rightful owner.

Bloody hell.

I've come to bring
the swords back.

Keef halak.

I knew it was you.

I could tell by your face.

Were you at Omdurman?

I was.

I've come to bring you
to justice.

You can come willingly...

...or you can try to stop me.

All right. Stop!

Damn it, man!
I almost killed you!

Put down your swords.

I'll stop if he stops,

but I doubt he will
given he'll hang either way.

So the way I see it,
this is self-defense.

This is revenge.

Call it what you like, old boy.

- [ Gun cocks I]
- Enough!

Kill him and you're dead.

AL:
I am dead anyway.

This is for my people, whom
you degraded and slaughtered.

For your insult
to the Mahdi and Allah!

The man you're about to kill

spoke out against what happened
at the Battle of Omdurman.

He praised the Mahdi.

Called him a priest,
a soldier, and a patriot.

You're quoting my book!

Now, you can choose to die
as a man of honor

or as a murderer.

It's your choice.

This fight is not over.

He fought with the Mahdi.

He was there when Kitchener
desecrated the tomb.

What the hell is he doing here?

He killed one of the officers
responsible.

He escaped through French North
Africa, boarded a merchant ship,

landed here in Toronto, where
he took up a job as a barman.

And a year later,

another toffy-nosed Redcoat
comes waltzing through his door,

bragging about how he's turned
his messiah's skull

into an inkpot.

What are the odds on that?

I suppose remote enough

that he considered it
a calling from God

that his work was unfinished.

I've just time
to make my lecture.

Inspector, if you'd like me
to sign that autograph book

of yours...

What, and join the ranks of
silly girls and pimply boys?

Inspector, of all the insults
I've uttered

in the last 24 hours,

that is the one
I wish I could forget.

If you still feel my
signature worthy of inclusion,

I'd be honored.

Very well, if you insist.

Well, you've had
an eventful stay, Mr. Churchill.

Perhaps material
for your memoirs someday.

I rather think
I'll restrict my memoirs

to the events I actually
remember, Detective.

This hasn't exactly been
my finest hour.

Good God.
Look at these signatures.

Nikola Tesla, Harry Houdini,

Buffalo Bill,
Arthur Conan Doyle.

Is this the signature
of the prime minister?

I'm not sure I am worthy,
Inspector.

BRACKENREID:
Ah, give it a scribble.

Who knows?

Maybe you'll be
prime minister yourself someday.

[ Laughs ]

I wish you peace
and good fortune, gentlemen.

It was a pleasure.

Until we meet again.

What did he write?

BRACKENREID:
"To the man

who made the rest
of my life possible.

Winston Churchill."

Let's hope
he makes good use of it.

DR. OGDEN:
5...

4.3...

2..1.

Good.
That's enough for now.

William.

Julia.

I will stand by you.

If you divorce,
I will marry you.

And your faith,
how will you reconcile that?

I'll accept the consequences
of my decision.

No matter what the Church says,

I refuse to believe that love,
any love, could be wrong.

And I love you.

And I you.