All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S10E09.1080p.BluRay.x264-YELLOWBiRD

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Gentlemen.
Lovely day for it.

- Doctor.
- Hello, Dr. Ogden.

I didn't know
you were a football fan.

I couldn't miss the match

that decides which Canadian team
will go to the Olympic Games.

What I would give
to go to St. Louis.

The World's Fair
and the Olympics.

We have everything we need
right here in Toronto, son.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Sighs ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows ]

Watch the post.

Cover the po... the post!

[ Crowd cheering ]

Damn it.

These bloody free kicks
are the devil, I tell you.

Not to worry, Nobby. They've
only been playing five minutes.

Are you not cheering
for Toronto?

We're for Galt, of course, since
old Nobby and I go way back.

Ever since I first
came to Canada

and started playing football.

Teaching the colonials
the English game.

You tackled Nobby, then took
your fight off the field,

and were mates ever since.

It's nice to know
that you listen sometimes.

Your father
hasn't changed a bit.

Still as opinionated
and stubborn as ever.

I'll say.
[ Chuckles ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

NOBBY:
On him! On him!

That Semple lad
is quite the footballer.

Reminds me
of a young Tommy Crawshaw.

JOHN:
He seems a bit selfish to me.

Nonsense.

You always have your best player
leading the attack.

It makes more sense to me
to pass the ball around

and use the whole team,
like the Scots do.

You've got a young tactician
on your hands, Tom.

The English invented football,
not the bloody Scots.

Kick and run.
That's football.

Harcourt, pay attention!

[ Crowd groans, whistle blows ]

Oh! Lord love a duck, Gourlay!
What was that?

The Galway lads have got to
learn to tackle, Nobby.

They won't be able to compete
at the Olympic Games like this.

Well, help him up.

Be a gentleman about it,
at least.

Enough play-acting.
Take my hand.

Get up, man.

He should be coming around
by now.

WESLEY:
Robert?

Robert!

Inspector.

BRACKENREID: Move aside, lads.
Give him some air.

He's dead.

Julia. Sir.
What have you?

Robert Semple, star player
for the university team,

dropped dead on the field
after a hard tackle.

I believe he was stabbed.
I discovered a wound.

Stabbed?

Sir, you mentioned
he was tackled.

Could the other player
have concealed a weapon?

BRACKENREID: This is football,
Murdoch, not rugby.

The lad tackled him
with his legs.

There was no way
that Semple here

was stabbed
on the field of play.

I agree.
Based on the inflammation,

the wound is at least an hour
old, possibly as much as 12.

He was stabbed
and got kitted up to play.

I'm impressed.

He should have been
in a hospital,

not on a football field.

Will you be to able narrow
that time line at all?

I'll do my best,
but I can't guarantee it.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Murdoch, meet my oldest
Canadian friend.

Nobby. So called
because of his knobby knees.

- Detective Murdoch.
- Or my last name.

Andrew Nobson.

Sorry to meet you under
such unfortunate circumstances.

Indeed.

You're the trainer
for the Galt team?

I am.

Did any of your players
have contact with Mr. Semple

in the last 12 hours?

Well, we hosted
a smoking concert last night

for both teams.

I stayed away so the lads
could enjoy themselves fully.

I imagine they would have
met Semple then.

Any animosities
that you're aware of?

No, no, they're good lads,

focused on nothing
but the Olympic Games.

- I can vouch for the lot.
- BRACKENREID: Of course.

Don't you worry, Nobby.
I'll come find you later.

Right, then, so let's start
with the Toronto captain,

- Wesley Patten.
- Sir.

WESLEY: Sure, I was with Robert
last night.

So was everyone else here.

BRACKENREID: At the Galt
football team's smoking concert?

WESLEY:
A good 50 people were there.

MURDOCH:
What time did you leave?

WESLEY: Around 11:00,
just like everyone else.

And Mr. Semple?

That was the last I saw him,

until we all got to the field
this morning around 9:00.

And did you notice
anything unusual

about Mr. Semple this morning?

He was tired.

Robert's never been
a morning person.

Where was Mr. Semple between
the hours of 11:00 last night

and 9:00 a.m. this morning?

Esther Fields might know.

She's Robert's sweetheart.

ESTHER:
I don't know what happened.

He was fine last night,
his typical self.

What time was it when you left
Mr. Semple last night?

I suppose it was around
2:00 or so this morning.

We went to a speakeasy
after the concert.

I'm ashamed to admit it.

Which speakeasy was this?

The one at College
and Brunswick Avenue.

I don't know the name of it.
I'd never been before.

Did Mr. Semple also leave
when you did?

I doubt it.

He was in fine form,

refusing to walk me home
in favor of more drink.

I don't know where he went.

Nor should I like to.

Dr. Ogden.

Look at this.

Thread.

This wound was stitched.

Badly, at that.

The needle marks
are quite jagged.

I daresay you would
do a much better job.

I'm not so certain.

I've never been
much of a seamstress.

NOBBY:
It's a bad business, Tom.

Bad for both teams.

What will you do
about the match?

It has to be replayed.

The apple
doesn't fall too far, eh?

- [ Chuckles ]
- Got promise, that one.

[ Grunts]

[ Sighs ]

Can't kick a ball straight
to save his life.

He's still young.

He can practice with us
while we're here.

I doubt if it'll do any good,

but that's very kind of you
nonetheless.

Just what old friends do.

- Oi!
- [ Laughs ]

Ah, sirs, I have
the soccer team rosters here.

You mean
the football team rosters.

Yes, I mean the same, sir.

"Soccer" is a term nicknamed
by some Oxford chap.

Apparently,
it means "association,"

as in association football.

Some Toronto lad
was using the term.

It seems to be catching on.

I will not have you copying
some toffee-nosed prat

repeating another
toffee-nosed prat.

The sport is called football,
Crabtree, plain and simple.

Sir, should the nickname
not be adopted?

We already have another sport
known as football.

It is somewhat confusing.

Should a sport
wherein the players

pick up the ball in their hands
and run down the field

be called football,
or should it be the sport

wherein the players kick a ball
with their feet?

Mm.

MURDOCH: George,
why don't you walk us through

Robert Semple's final hours?

Sir, gladly.
Um...

At 8:00 p.m.,
he arrived with his teammates

at the town hall
for the smoking concert.

He stayed there for
the duration, until 11:00.

He didn't leave at all?

Nobody saw him leave, sir.
And I don't doubt it.

What a show.

There was a boxing match,
not one, but two strong men,

champagne, a full steak dinner.

I wonder at the wisdom
of a heavy meal and alcohol

the night before
an important sporting event.

A night out is a good way
to unwind, Murdoch.

Keeps the body limber.

It's why the English are the
best footballers in the world.

- Carry on, George.
- CRABTREE: Right.

Uh, after the smoking concert
broke up at 11:00,

Mr. Semple and a few friends
carried on to a speakeasy

at College Street
and Brunswick Avenue.

The lads
are searching there now.

- Where did Semple go next?
- Well, we don't know, sir.

Nobody saw hide nor hair of him
after 2:00 a.m.

until he showed up at the field
this morning.

Cause of death was shock
due to rupture of the liver.

Do we know how that happened?

DR. OGDEN: It appears the liver
was nicked by the knife,

which itself
would not have been fatal.

But when he collided
with the Galt player,

I believe the nick tore open
and the liver ruptured.

REBECCA: His body went into
arrest, stopping his heart.

I won't be telling that

to the young Galt player
that tackled him.

Was he not in pain?

Given the amount of alcohol
in his blood,

he was likely inebriated enough
to dull the pain significantly.

BRACKENREID:
What about the weapon?

The weapon appears to be
an average dinner knife.

One used to eat a steak dinner,
for example?

That would be consistent
with his injuries, yes.

DR. OGDEN: As for when
the wound was inflicted,

I believe Miss James and I
did rather well.

The wound was still
in hemostasis

and appeared fairly new, meaning
it occurred within 12 hours.

There is some discoloration,

which can begin
four to six hours

after the bruise first appears.

Combine that with the rate
of inflammation

and the beginnings
of scabbing and...

Perhaps you might cut to Hecuba,
Miss James.

Yes, yes.
Of course, Inspector.

We believe
Mr. Semple was stabbed

six to eight hours
before his death.

So the stabbing occurred
between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m.,

likely with the knife that was
stolen from the town hall.

Also, he may have seen a friend
after the stabbing.

How's that?

We found remnants of thread
inside the wound

and puncture marks
consistent with a sewing needle.

But the stitching was not done
by a professional.

Mr. Semple tried
to stitch himself up?

I highly doubt it.

BRACKENREID:
So he got a friend to help him.

But why not report it?
Why pretend it never happened?

He didn't want anyone to know
that he'd been attacked.

Perhaps out of pride.

Or he wished to keep secret
the reason for the attack

out of shame or guilt.

BRACKENREID:
Possibly.

Either way, it would have
cost him his chance at glory.

No athlete worth his salt
would want to miss a shot

at the Olympic Games,
no matter what the cost.

- What have you, George?
- Ah, sirs.

Uh, I inquired at the town hall.

They say catering
is missing a knife,

but that's not entirely uncommon
after such a large function.

In fact, they engrave the hilts
of their knives with "H&L"

in order to discourage
such theft.

Tell the lads to add that
to their search.

Sir, I will do, but as of yet,

no knife of any sort
has been found.

This is a list of all those
who accompanied the victim

to the speakeasy
after the smoking concert?

That's right, sir.

Esther Fields, Harriet Harcourt,

Leland Harcourt,
and Jack Gourlay.

The last two are Galt players.
Are you certain?

Quite certain, sir.
They've said as much.

Um, Esther Fields
is the victim's sweetheart.

Harriet Harcourt
is Miss Fields' bosom friend.

Leland Harcourt
is a Galt player,

also Harriet Harcourt's brother.

- Harriet Harcourt is from Galt.
- CRABTREE: That's right, sir.

And, of course, Jack Gourlay
is Galt's team captain.

Fine player, too.

He is also
Harriet Harcourt's fiancé.

- It's rather a tangled web.
- MURDOCH: Indeed.

They are all connected
to each other,

but only Miss Fields
is connected to the victim.

BRACKENREID: What motive
could the Galt lads have

against a Toronto player?

Well, sir, Robert Semple
was Toronto's best player.

Take him out, and you're off
to the Olympic Games.

Exactly.

But if I'm Robert Semple

and I've been stabbed
by an opponent, I report it.

Galt's disqualified, and I'm off
to the Olympic Games.

That didn't happen,

so it had to be one of the lads
on his own team.

But no Toronto players were with
the victim at that late hour.

And there's our conundrum,
Murdoch.

Crabtree, I want you to search

every nook and cranny
of that speakeasy.

Find the knife.

Murdoch, talk to the ladies.

I'll have a word
with the Galt players.

[ Indistinct talking ]

BRACKENREID:
Mr. Harcourt.

What time did you leave
the speakeasy last night?

About 1:00, I think.

I walked my sister home,
then went back to my rooms.

How well did you know
the deceased?

I only met Semple last night.

Tom, so glad you're here.

Just a moment, Nobby.

Did you notice anything unusual?

Just his general demeanor
was not very pleasant.

Though I gather that wasn't
particularly unusual.

I don't know what else
I can tell you.

Thank you.
Rejoin the practice.

I'll talk to Gourlay next.

Of course, but, Tom,
while I have you here,

I could really use your help
with the lads' tackling.

- I wish I could, Nobby.
- Just a quick demonstration.

You always were the best.

You had it down to a science.

An art, more like.

Oh, go on, then.

I can spare you
a couple of minutes.

Right then, lads,
be prepared to learn the art

of the Brackenreid slide tackle!

HARRIET: I knew Robert Semple
because of Esther.

I don't know why
she stayed with him.

Why do you say that,
Miss Harcourt?

He wasn't very attentive to her.

Ah.

Tell me about last night,
as you remember it.

There isn't much to tell.

I only went
to the smoking concert

because Jack and Leland
are in town.

Your brother and your fiancé.

Yes.

Leland warned me about Toronto.

But I so wanted to live here.

Jack was so good
to wait to marry

until I finished my studies.

But Leland was right.

It's too dangerous here
for a Galt girl.

Where did you go
after the smoking concert?

I walked with them to
the speakeasy, but I was tired.

I didn't even go inside.

Did you see anything unusual?

Anyone angry with Mr. Semple?

Esther was.

But I don't know
if that counts as unusual.

It's a lost cause, Nobby.

You're better off
not tackling at all.

Blasted free kicks.

I wish we could just brick up
the bloody net.

Good Lord.
It's that simple.

Lads.

Six of you,
shoulder to shoulder.

Come on.

Why are we making a wall of men?

It's not a wall.

It's a barricade against
free kicks, your team weakness.

This must be against
the laws of the game.

The opposing players must stand

at least six yards away from
the ball during a free kick.

Yes, but it doesn't say
how many opposing players.

Why has no one
thought of this before?

Because it's the height
of foolishness.

I don't want a ball
aimed at my face.

Or my head.

It takes an hour to brilliantine
my hair into place.

Tom, perhaps this is a bit much.
I can't ask the lads

to put themselves
in harm's way like this.

I can't believe
I'm hearing this.

The fabled
Galt Porridge-Eating Invincibles

scared of a little old football?

Hardly the attitude
of Olympic champions.

I'll show you the attitude
of a champion.

John Brackenreid!

Me?

Get in the barricade.

Right, lads.
Flank him either side.

But, Father...

Tom.

Ready?

[ Groans ]

Good Lord, are you all right?

BRACKENREID: 'Course
he's all right. Get up, John.

I don't believe it.
It worked!

- Your barricade worked, Tom.
- Of course it worked.

Now you can give away
all the free kicks you like.

Right.
My work here is done.

Better get back
to some real work.

Miss Fields,
you neglected to mention

that you had an argument
with Mr. Semple last night.

There was nothing to mention.

It's somewhat of a daily thing.

Or was, I suppose.

What was the argument about?

Just his usual behavior.

He refused to walk me home,
like I told you.

He was too busy drinking
and showing off.

Showing off for whom?

Jack Gourlay.

Harriet's fiancé.

As much of a drunken lout
as the rest of them.

JACK: I think Semple and I
parted ways about 2:30,

though I wouldn't swear to it.

MURDOCH: And that was the last
you saw of him

until this morning.

JACK: Right.
Or perhaps not.

BRACKENREID:
Explain, Mr. Gourlay.

JACK:
After I left the speakeasy,

I got a bit turned around.

I managed to find my way
back there, and I saw someone,

who I think was Semple,
stumbling out of a laneway.

I called out,
but he didn't turn around.

Maybe it wasn't him.

MURDOCH:
What laneway was this?

Outside the speakeasy?

I don't know.
It's my first time to Toronto.

Uh, I think I saw something

that looked like
an over-large thimble.

You could ask Wesley.

Wesley Patten,
the Toronto captain?

Well, yes, he's the one
that took us to the speakeasy

in the first place.

[ Indistinct talking ]

Mr. Patten, a moment.

WESLEY: Why is Galt practicing
so much with the ball?

Everyone knows it lessens
the hunger for it come game day.

Mr. Patten,

football is the least
of your worries at the moment.

You lied to me.

You were at the speakeasy
with Robert Semple.

Right, then,
off to the station house.

All right.
Yes, I lied.

If it gets back
to the university

that I went to
an illegal establishment,

I'll be kicked off the team.

Then why did you go
in the first place?

I had to keep an eye on Robert.

Well, you didn't do
a very good job of it.

WESLEY:
Don't think I don't know that.

I wouldn't normally leave him
in that state.

But we had a big match in
a few hours, and I needed sleep.

BRACKENREID:
What time did you leave?

Just before 2:00 a.m.

And that's the last you saw
of Mr. Semple?

WESLEY: Yes.

That's the truth.
I swear it.

MURDOCH: Sir.

BRACKENREID:
Ah, Murdoch.

I finally found good use
for your chalkboard.

- Tactics.
- Tactics.

Formations, Murdoch, formations.

See, this is the standard 2-3-5,
the pyramid formation.

But on this side
is my invention.

The 4-4-2.

Oh.

BRACKENREID: You see, the more
I watch football, Murdoch,

the more I've come to realize

the importance
of a good defense.

You can't win football games

if you're constantly
letting goals in.

I suppose so,
but if you bolster your defense

at the expense of your offense,

you won't be scoring many goals,
either.

I know, I know.
The 2-3-5 does make more sense.

Oh, I just can't think anymore.

So, where are we at?

Well, sir, Jack Gourlay

saw someone stumbling
out into the laneway.

BRACKENREID: Well,
that could have been Semple.

Or it could have been
his attacker.

If Semple was stabbed
outside the speakeasy,

we would surely have found
evidence of it by now.

Well, sir, I don't believe
he was stabbed

outside of the speakeasy,
but somewhere nearby.

An oversized thimble, just as
Jack Gourlay described it.

Good work, Murdoch.

And only a block away
from the speakeasy.

We may yet find our crime scene.

- BRACKENREID: Murdoch.
- MURDOCH: Ah.

A blood trail.

BRACKENREID:
Two trails, it seems.

One made by the victim

and the other by his attacker,
presumably.

Which one
should we follow first?

Sir, why don't you
take that direction?

What will you do?

How will you follow the trail
without the blue light?

Ultraviolet, sir,
and you're correct.

But I anticipated that we'd have
difficulty, so I brought two.

Ah.

[ Door opens ]

[ Knock on door ]

- Mr. Patten?
- Detective.

Tom!

What am I doing here, Tom?

You know what you're doing here,
Nobby.

The blood trail
led right to your hotel.

I don't know anything about it.

I wasn't even out the night
that poor lad was stabbed.

You know it's the truth.

Are all of your players staying
at the same hotel with you?

No.
They're all billeted.

Look, I can see
what you're thinking.

It's far too great a coincidence

that the victim's blood ended up
on the steps of my hotel.

That's the sum of it, yes.

Come now, Tom.

You've known me for years.

- You know the type of man I am.
- Nobby...

And you know I've no time

for anything other
than preparing my team

for the biggest competition
of their lives.

It's not every day
the Olympic Games come calling.

Murdoch.

Sir, perhaps Mr. Nobson
is telling the truth.

He's involved in some way,
whether he knows it or not.

I've sent George to search
along both blood trails

for the murder weapon.

What if someone's trying
to lay blame

on Nobby
or the Galt team in general?

Perhaps we should speak
with the person

at the end
of the other blood trail.

- The Toronto captain.
- Wesley Patten.

BRACKENREID:
We found Robert Semple's blood

in a laneway
behind the speakeasy.

Two blood trails diverged
from that laneway.

One went to Mr. Nobson's hotel,
the other to your residence.

I can explain that.

At least,
I can explain half of it.

Please.

I did leave the speakeasy
earlier than Robert,

like I told you.

I just didn't tell you
what happened afterwards.

Which makes it the second time
you've lied to us

in as many conversations.

Talk.
The truth this time.

Maybe an hour after I got home,
around 3:00,

Robert showed up at my door,
bleeding.

Why didn't you go
fetch the doctor?

He wouldn't let me.
If we'd gone to hospital,

he wouldn't have been able
to play the match.

And I'm ashamed to say
we needed him.

And the cut looked small enough.

So you sewed it shut.

I insisted.

In the morning,
he wasn't any worse for wear

than after any other night out.

He really did seem fine.

You don't seem to be taking
his death very hard.

It's a terrible thing to say,

but I'm almost relieved
he's gone.

MURDOCH:
Why do you say that?

The university expects us

to conduct ourselves
like gentlemen.

Robert was no gentleman.

I was tired of my future on
the team being tied up with his.

Never mind how he treated
poor Esther.

BRACKENREID:
How did he treat her?

A rumor went around
the smoking concert

that he'd been unfaithful.

MURDOCH:
Just a rumor?

I doubt it, seeing as it was
spread about by Robert himself.

Why did you put up with him?

You're a pleasant young thing.

Surely you could attract
a better beau.

I wouldn't expect a man
to understand a woman's burdens.

You were aware
of his indiscretions, then?

Unfortunately.

MURDOCH: That is the real reason
you were angry at Mr. Semple.

You heard the rumor
of his infidelity

at the smoking concert?

BRACKENREID: So you took a knife
from the dinner,

waited till everyone left,
and then stabbed him in revenge.

Of course not!

I was angry, yes,
but I was more ashamed.

I confronted him, I admit it,
In front of everyone.

And you know what he did?

The bastard laughed.

He laughed at me.

I might have dismissed it
as one of Robert's cruel jokes

except for her behavior
toward me the past few weeks.

Distant.
Apologetic.

Whose behavior?

Surely you know.

It's been all over
the university.

Harriet Harcourt.

[ Gasps I
Detective.

Inspector.

My brother is waiting for me
at the field.

Oh, allow us to escort you.

How is the investigation going?

We're proceeding.

Have you a suspect in mind?

We've learned of certain events
recently

that have narrowed our search
considerably.

Which is why we need
to speak to you.

I'm sure I can't help you.

Did you have an affair
with Robert Semple?

[ Sobbing ]

Perhaps a bit direct, sir.

Got a result, though.

Certainly seemed like a yes
to me.

In that case,
no one had more motive

than the last man that was
with Semple... Jack Gourlay.

Beware a man cuckolded.

Yes, sir.

Ohh.

Just how bad
is a constable's salary

that he's forced to forage
for his lunch in such a manner?

[ Chuckles ]
Miss James.

What a pleasant surprise,

although not for you,
considering the state I'm in.

What are you doing?

I am looking
for the murder weapon.

Detective Murdoch
discovered a trail of blood,

and I'm to follow the route,

checking every garbage can
and sewer hole.

Perhaps I can help.

I'm used to having
my arms elbow-deep

in arguably worse conditions.

And I know the kind of knife
you're looking for.

Both excellent points,
Miss James.

Consider yourself deputized.

Where should I begin?

Julia.

William.

What are you doing here?

Mr. Nobson asked me
if I could recommend a doctor

who could help out
with the boys.

So I offered my services.

I fear you'll be overworked.

I tell you, William, the way
these boys abuse their bodies,

they should have a doctor
following them

everywhere they go.

Indeed.

- [ Ball thudding ]
- NOBBY: Good.

BRACKENREID: Nobby.

Tom, I'm in the middle
of practice.

- I've come to see Mr. Gourlay.
- Gourlay.

The lads should go easy
on practicing the barricade.

You don't want any injuries
before for the match.

I can manage my team, thank you.

Put John in the middle.
John, get yourself up here.

Let him take the brunt of it.

Lads, practice aiming your kicks
at John.

Oh!

I wish I could, Father,
but I've hurt my ankle.

I can barely stand.

[ Sighs ]

Go and see Dr. Ogden
on the sidelines.

Mr. Gourlay,
you're coming with me.

I have been jealous of Harriet,
I admit.

She's been in the city,
having all sorts of adventures.

I've been working at my father's
dry goods store in Galt.

You must have been looking
forward to this trip.

Oh, yes.
The match, the smoking concert.

Most of all, Harriet.

Yes, your visit
with Miss Harcourt

hasn't gone exactly
as you expected.

Harriet's been so cold, so odd.

She won't talk to me.
She won't touch me.

She didn't even want to go
to the smoking concert.

She needn't have bothered.

She was a wet blanket
all evening.

You must have heard the rumor,
Semple and your fiancée.

It's a pack of lies.
I said so to his face.

He was no Toronto gentleman.
He wouldn't even apologize.

BRACKENREID:
It made you angry.

I couldn't just let it go.

Though I'm ashamed
of what happened

on the field the next day.

The tackle, you mean.
It was a hard one.

Unsporting.

And I'd already made my feelings
known the night before.

The two of you fought
at the speakeasy?

We were both so drunk,

neither of us managed
to land a single blow.

We agreed to let the match
settle our grievances.

Why did you leave all of this
out of your earlier account?

I'm not normally one
to stoop to a barroom brawl.

I'm the captain
of the Galt football team.

I may well soon be an Olympian.

It's no light responsibility.

JOHN:
It's my left ankle.

You were limping
with your right.

John, do you not want to play?

I do want to play,
just not my father's way.

But a Brackenreid plays
like a true Englishman.

A Brackenreid tackles
at the knees.

A Brackenreid brawls
on the field and off.

Surely there can be more
than one kind of Brackenreid.

Not according to my father.
[ Chuckles ]

Your father is a fair man,
if a little pigheaded at times.

But you're old enough
to be your own man, John.

But in the meantime,

I'll wrap your foot
and keep up your pretense.

At least until you can build up

a little of that infamous
Brackenreid courage.

I admit I don't know much
about football,

but it does look quite fun.

Oh, Miss James,
I'm sure you would excel.

Surely, there is a ladies' team
at the university.

I don't think I'd be welcome.

In that case, let's you and I
have a go right now.

I couldn't.

There you are. Come on.
Nobody's watching.

REBECCA:
Constable Crabtree.

That looks like blood.

BRACKENREID:
Crabtree.

Sir, there are no fingermarks
on the knife.

It's been thoroughly
wiped cleaned.

- Is that the murder weapon?
- Yes, sir.

Rebecca James confirmed as much,

as does the engraving
on the hilt.

Where was it found?

Outside Andrew Nobson's hotel,
Sir.

Oh.
So we're back to Nobby.

Or at least someone wants us
to think it's Nobby.

Sir, there's one more piece
of evidence you should see.

AN.
Andrew Nobson.

Protest, Nobby.

Tell me it's not yours.
Tell me we're wrong.

Look, I'm on your side,

but I need you to speak up
in your defense.

Bloody hell, Andrew!

All our years friendship
come to this?

I'm sorry, Tom.

Not as sorry as I am.

[ Door opens ]

[ Door closes ]

Crabtree searched Nobby's room.

His boots were caked with grass
and dirt but no trace of blood.

He couldn't have been the one
who made the blood trail.

His guilt does seem unlikely.
But until he speaks to us...

He's protecting someone.

I can't see any other reason
for his silence.

Then we should re-examine
the Galt players,

Jack Gourlay
and Leland Harcourt.

Gourlay has motive,

seeing as his fiancée was the
one carrying on with the victim.

But without Nobby's cooperation,
we have nothing on him.

Well, if Mr. Nobson
won't speak to us,

perhaps Miss Harcourt will.

The last time we tried with her,
she burst into tears.

Ask the good doctor
to lend you a hand.

MURDOCH: These past few days
must have been difficult,

having to mourn the loss
of a lover in secret.

He wasn't my lover.
I hated him.

Mr. Semple told your fiancé of a
dalliance the two of you shared.

He told Jack that?

MURDOCH:
Was it true?

I can't deny it.
But it only happened once.

A terrible mistake.

Jack didn't kill Robert.
I know it.

Your faith in him
is admirable, but...

I know it because I did it.

I killed Robert Semple.

Miss Harcourt, do you realize
what you're saying?

I do.

Robert attacked me.

I stabbed him to defend myself.

Where did this happen?

In a laneway.

And then you went
to the speakeasy?

Or returned to the speakeasy?

Yes. Or no.

It was before the speakeasy.

Or after.
Um, I don't recall.

Take your time.
Start at the beginning.

It's all a blur.

He attacked me.
I stabbed him. I went home.

And what did you do
with the knife?

I left it there in the laneway.

Miss Harcourt, did you visit
Mr. Nobson that evening?

No.
Of course not.

I stabbed Robert.

No one else knew
anything about it.

I am the only guilty one.

Miss Harcourt, I imagine
you could use a cup of tea.

Please, excuse me.

[ Door opens ]

Miss Harcourt, your description
of the incident

doesn't match the evidence.

I'm telling you, I did it.

Isn't that enough?

You didn't stab Robert Semple.

But he did attack you,
didn't he?

But perhaps not
on the night in question.

You think by taking the blame,
you'll feel better.

But in my experience, it's only
the truth that brings you peace.

Harriet, whatever you tell me,
I will believe you.

One evening,
I was walking home from class.

I ran into Robert.

He was going to see Esther,
he said,

and would walk me
to our residence.

I agreed.
Why wouldn't I?

He said he needed
to stop by his room.

I was going to wait outside,

but he offered
to sneak me past the Don.

It was cold, and I knew him.

He took advantage of you
in his room.

It was all my fault.

I went in willingly.

I put myself in that position.

I am entirely to blame.

You told no one?

I tried to pretend
it didn't happen.

Jack would have left me.

My family
would have been disgraced.

But Robert...

Robert wouldn't let me forget.

Which is why you didn't want
to go to the smoking concert

or join your friends
at the speakeasy.

I thought it would happen again.

You took a knife from
the dinner to protect yourself.

I would have used it.

But you didn't.

Mr. Gourlay did.

No. I swear, Jack had nothing
to do with this.

Oh, Harriet.

You've been protecting
your brother.

[ Crying]

My sister was so frightened, she
was walking around with a knife.

You could have come
to the police.

LELAND: And pit her word against
the great Robert Semple,

hero of the university
football team?

He would have said
she consented,

and the matter
would have disappeared.

You walked your sister home.
That much is true.

LELAND: Yes.

She was so upset.

I had to pry the knife
out of her hand.

MURDOCH: You then went
to find Robert Semple.

Hey, Semple!

LELAND: I told him
to leave Harriet alone.

I'm talking to you.

MURDOCH:
He refused.

- And?
- You leave her alone.

LELAND:
He said...

All girls play the innocent.
It's just for show.

[ Grunts]

LELAND: One moment,
the knife was in my hand.

The next,
it was sticking in Robert.

You then ran to Mr. Nobson's
for help.

He told me to go home,
get my rest for the game.

It would all be all right.

Then I saw Robert on the field
the next morning.

I thought maybe I had dreamt
the whole thing.

I've let everyone down,
haven't I?

[ Knock on door, door opens ]

MAN:
Go, go!

Good, lads!

Very good.

That's it.

That's it, Galt.

Leland is a good lad.

He just made a bad mistake.

As did you.

I know, Tom,
and I'm prepared to pay for it.

BRACKENREID: Why do you only
have 10 men on the field?

We didn't travel
with any substitutes.

We have to play a man short.

John, get yourself up here.

He may only be a young man,
but he's a man nonetheless.

You're in, lad.
Halfback.

- No.
- What?

JOHN:
I said no.

I won't play
unless I can play my way.

What are you on about?

I don't tackle, and I don't
run straight for the net.

I won't kick long balls.

I will pass and use my teammates
like the Scots,

'cause that's the way I play.

Bloody hell.

I may not be able to kick a ball
straight, but I'm a good player,

and I know the game
as well as anyone.

And I'm a Brackenreid.

Except I'm John Brackenreid,

and there is room for more
than one kind of Brackenreid.

No, son, you're wrong.

There is only one kind
of Brackenreid.

The one who speaks his mind.

Now, get out there and pass your
way to the Olympic bloody Games.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows, crowd cheers ]

Got it.
You got it.

MAN:
Nice one!

BRACKENREID: Tackle him.
Tackle him.

[ Whistle blows, crowd cheers ]

One minute to go.

- Foul, referee!
- Ref!

[ Whistle blows ]

Yes!

NOBBY: This is it. This is it.
This is our moment.

Gourlay, take the kick.

What are they doing?

Good Lord, Tom,
they're copying our barricade!

We should have seen this coming.

NOBBY: This is our last chance
to take the game.

What are we going to do?

John should take the kick.

But he can't kick a straight
ball to save his life.

Exactly.

[ Both chuckle ]

John Brackenreid, take the kick!

Huh?

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Crowd cheering,
whistle blows ]

We won!
We won!

We're going to
the Olympic bloody Games!

You'll deserve
any medal they win

as if you were
right there with them.

McNabb.

Thank you, Tom.

Being here for this match
means the world to me.

It's what old friends do.

The lads will be needing
a firm hand in St. Louis.

I wouldn't trust my team
to anyone else.

Good luck.

Thomas C. Brackenreid, Olympian.

I'll only be gone
a couple of weeks.

Be sure to write us
the results, sir.

Write?
I'll be telegraphing.

Sod the long distance.

How often will I get to manage
a team at the Olympic Games?

CRABTREE:
Too right, sir.

And if you have a chance to pick
up some of that fairy floss,

I'd be much obliged.

I'll see what I can do,
Crabtree.

Now, Murdoch,
the payroll is in the safe.

Mark the ledger exactly as I do.

Also, the shed needs
clearing out.

I've left a long list of duties
on my desk.

We'll try to manage, sir.

Oh, and be sure to visit the
electrical pavilion at the fair.

I understand they have a new

plug and wall socket
installation.

I'll be sure to make it
my first port of call, Murdoch.

Right. Oh.
And these are from Dr. Ogden.

Bandages and a liniment
of her own creation

for the players'
aches and pains.

That's very kind of her.
Please thank her for me.

Ready, Father?
We don't want to miss the train.

They've decorated a special car
just for the team

with red-and-white bunting
and streamers

and a sign telling everyone
that the Galt football team

is going to the Olympic Games.

Well, let's get going, then.

Ah, George Crabtree spies
an open Rebecca James.

Not bad, Miss James, for a lady.

Who knows, Inspector?

Maybe one day there'll be
a team of Canadian women

vying for Olympic gold.

[ Chuckles ]
That'll be the day.

Come on, John.
Let's go get a medal.