All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S11E08.1080p.BluRay.x264-YELLOWBiRD

- More coffee, dear?
- Yes. Yes.

Fools don't know how to run
a footrace, let alone a country.

What?

What's this, then?

What is it, dear?

Is this one of
your little practical jokes?

Well, I'm not laughing,
Dorothy.

I... I assure you, Harrison,
I know nothing of this.

Maybe it was Roger, then.

Scoundrel's always coveted
my position at the bank.

Perhaps it's just
a mistake, dear.

Mistake, my foot!

Where are you going?

Straight to the newspaper
to give them a piece of my mind.

All right, dear.

He had only just
stepped out the door when...

Where was he going?

To the offices
of The Toronto Gazette.

For what purpose?

Harrison had meant to complain
to the paper

about a-a dreadful error they
had made in the morning edition.

It's so cruel.

It makes no sense.

This is the paper he was holding
when he died?

What kind of a horrible person
would do such a thing?

His own obituary.

Not much mystery
as to the cause of death.

Certainly not.

It is unfortunate timing
for the poor man.

I suspect there's more
at play here than mere bad luck.

It's unlikely the planter fell
of its own accord.

And there's the curious matter
of this obituary.

The damndest thing!

A dead man whose obituary
was published before he died.

Yes, we were
just discussing that.

More than passing strange.

Definitely needs to be
looked into.

Indeed.

The obituary in effect predicted

the exact day
the fellow would die.

Suggesting the writer
played a part

in making the obituary
come true.

My thoughts exactly.

His neighbors claim
he was a bad sort,

so I pulled his crime sheet.

He had a criminal record?

For petty theft
and gambling offenses and such.

I understood him
to be a bank manager.

His garb is certainly fitting
of a trussed-up man of money.

- Oh. That's not Gibson.
- Gibson? Who is Gibson?

Oh, there.

That's Murray Gibson's body
coming in now.

Fell off his fire escape.

This man's name
was Harrison McCallister.

That's Gibson.

Both published hours before
their actual deaths

and both dying
of apparent accidents.

What's the connection?

I don't know.

They were both placed
in the early edition

of The Toronto Gazette.

I just love seeing you
in your uniform.

Give us a moment, McNabb.
A bit early for you, isn't it?

Well, I wanted to tell you
as soon as I knew for certain.

Knew what?

Some of the girls
have got a show together,

and they've been offered
a spot at the Moulin Rouge.

In Paris.

Well, that's fantastic.

Traveling expands the mind,
you know?

I'm one of the girls.

- Paris?
- Yes.

From what I hear,

Paris is a-a veritable den
of thieves and cutthroats.

Which is why I would like
a constable with me.

To keep me safe.

I don't know, Nina.

Newfoundland is the furthest
I've ever been from Canada.

I mean, I can't imagine what
a journey like that would cost.

Oh, don't worry about the cost.
I've got a double berth.

So you'll come?

Thank you.

The obituaries editor can't
confirm who posted the notices.

They were typewritten,

placed through the mail slot
with a cash payment.

Is that the usual way
of these things?

He saw nothing amiss.

Sir, someone's come in
to report an obituary

written about themselves.

Right.
Bring him in, George.

It's not a him, sir.
It...

Good morning, Sister.

Sister Annamaria. It's a
pleasure to meet you, Detective.

I understand
you've found an obituary.

About myself.

And as you can well see,

I'm standing right here
in front of you,

living and breathing and
still in my earthly vestments.

Someone has made
a terrible mistake.

Um, It may not be a mistake,
exactly.

What do you mean?

This isn't the first such
obituary we've found today.

Sister, as a precaution,

I would ask that
you remain here

at the station house for a time.

Certainly.
I'll do whatever you say.

George, if you could
find Sister Annamaria

a comfortable spot...

Right away, sir.
Sister?

A banker, a gambler, and a nun.

It sounds like the beginning
of an unfortunate joke.

Three fraudulent obituaries.

What if there are more?

George.

Sir.

- Excuse me, sir.
- Where to, Constable?

Actually, I was wondering

if you knew anything
about the gentleman

mentioned in this obituary...
Joshua Martin.

Indeed I do.
He was my father.

I buried him this morning.

My condolences.
Thank you.

Don't be so stupid!
He died two days ago!

I-I'm sorry for your loss,
ma'am.

Uh, sir, are you Leonard Stoker?

Yes.
What of it?

Good!
So you're not dead, then.

- Is that some kind of threat?
- No, no, no, no, no.

But I-I will need you to come
down to the station house.

That must be for somebody else.

Is there more than
one Leonard Stoker,

1901 boxing champion of Toronto?

Look.

Eddie Crawford.

I didn't do anything wrong.

I didn't say you did.

Oh. Well.
So, what's on your mind?

Saving your life.

- You're pulling my leg.
- I wish I were.

We need you to come down
to the station house right away.

Over a silly prank?

Eddie, two of the pranks on
this page have just been killed.

Regardless of
what we think of you,

we don't want you to be next.

Come on.

Well, if it isn't
my old friend Eddie Crawford.

You can wager I'm as glad
to see you as you are me.

True enough.

Even so, I'd rather
see you alive than dead.

Well, that's very kind of you,
Inspector.

What's going on
with these obituaries?

Some creative genius
is making every effort

to make his fictional writing
come true.

You're one of the lucky ones
who's not dead yet.

Can I help you?

I went to make a complaint
at the newspaper

and they sent me here.

Oh, dear.
An obituary?

Yes, how did you know?

See?
For Agnes Swift.

With all the correct details.

That makes six.

Six what?

Just a moment.

Oh. Mrs. Swift?

It's Miss.

Might we have a moment?

Hello there, young miss.

I find myself wondering

what your favorite
school subjects might be.

Miss Swift, there are others

who have had similar obituaries
written about them.

Two died earlier this morning,

shortly after this paper
was published,

most likely killed by whoever
wrote and posted these.

- Good Lord!
- Yes.

We were hoping that you would
remain here at the station house

so that we may
ensure your safety.

You don't understand.

I'm Virginia Swift.

The obituary
wasn't written about me.

Agnes Swift is my daughter.

Could I trouble anyone
for a cup of tea?

I did ask that constable,

but he seems
to have forgotten.

We can see to that.

Constable Brackenreid, tea for
Sister Annamaria, please?

Yes, sir.

We at Station House
Four greatly appreciate

your cooperation
in this investigation.

How long is this gonna take?
I have a fight tonight.

And I will need to be back
for afternoon prayers.

We thank you for your patience.

And as long as you're here
with us, you'll be safe.

Meanwhile, we are working hard
to discover

who is behind all of this.

Once we find and apprehend
the culprit,

you'll all be free
to go about your business.

We are here voluntarily,
right, Tom?

As we said, for your safety.

I've thought about it, and I
believe I can fend for myself.

Well, no one intends
to get murdered, and yet...

We also hope that you could
provide us with information

that will help our
investigation, Mr. Crawford.

We need help
from each one of you.

Firstly, with a list of people
you believe

may hold a grudge against you,

so that we could generate
a list of suspects.

Performing a service, Eddie.

If you can get your tiny
little mind around that notion.

Unfortunately, I have an urgent
business matter to attend to.

Not so fast, buggerlugs.
The bookies can wait.

This is outrageous.

I am the victim here!

You can't keep me here
like this.

If I put a wee bit
of effort into it,

I just might find a warrant
for you that needs executing.

Now sit down!

Don't forget, you promised
we'd go to the fair today.

We'll go as soon as we finish
our business here, Agnes.

- But it's...
- Just read your book.

Sirs? Oof.

Another poor sod.

Who is it this time?

Butcher, baker,
candlestick maker?

Policeman.

Bloody hell.

- It's you, Watts.
- Hmm.

Wait, what?

I've put my share
of criminals away.

Some are out of prison and could
prefer me dead over alive.

- Oi!
- Hmm?

Oh. Yeah.

Any one in particular
that might connect you

to one of the obituary subjects?

Besides meeting Mr. Crawford
last week,

I've never seen any
of these people before today.

It may be helpful for you to
go through your past case files.

They're at Station One.
I'll go fetch them.

No, you won't.
You're staying here.

We'll send a constable
to get your files.

I still have Gibson's murder
to investigate.

I need to
reexamine the crime scene,

track down his associates.

Never mind all that.

Whoever wrote these
obituaries, that's your Killer.

Inspector,
I understand the threat

and assure you
I can take care of myself.

No one intends to get murdered.

And yet...

Right.

We have some questions
for you all.

Detective.

Firstly, it is vital
that you tell us

of any previous encounters you
may have had with one another,

even in passing.

This is a waste of time.

I live a very simple life.

Sister, please think carefully.

Now, Constable Higgins
has photographs

of the two deceased men.

One is a Murray Gibson,

who was known to have
run-ins with the law.

The other chap
is a Harrison McCallister,

who was the manager of the
Dominion Bank on Jarvis Street.

Do any of you know
either of these two gentlemen?

My church diocese, of which
I am the financial secretary,

holds its accounts at that bank.

Sir, that's my bank as well.

Anyone else have dealings

with the Dominion Bank
on Jarvis Street?

Banks are for chumps.

That may not be the connection
we're looking for.

Now, we ask that you please
write down

anyone you can think of that may
hold ill will toward you.

Eddie.

I'll be needing that back.

Also if you could
please write down

your current
and previous residence

as well as
places of employment.

How much longer
do we have to stay here, Mama?

I don't know, Agnes.

Just do what you've been asked.

Write down the names
of anyone you can think of

who's been mean to you.

Miss Swift,
if I could have a word?

Of course.

It occurs to me

that you might know
better than your daughter

who might wish to harm her.

Save for a little
schoolyard teasing,

I can't think of a soul
she's offended.

I raised her to be polite.

- You can see that for yourself.
- Indeed.

Often in these cases,
we discover the involvement

of another family member
or loved one.

She has no family but myself,
Detective.

Where is Agnes's father?

He's dead.

I'm sorry to hear that.

He was never much
in the picture.

He used to make
some financial contribution,

and it's been a struggle

to stay out of the poorhouse
since he's died,

but we've managed.

I see.

I don't understand how anyone
could do this to a child.

It's possible they haven't.

Perhaps someone
is making threats against Agnes

as a means to hurt you.

You think someone
intends to kill me?

I don't know.

But if you wouldn't mind,

I would very much like you
to compile a list of your own.

Thank you very much.
Thank you.

Great.

What's the point
of these obituaries?

What sort of crackpot would warn
these unlucky buggers in advance

that they might be done in?

A vengeful killer
might take pleasure

in his intended victims' fear.

There is a connection somewhere.

Unless he picked them at random.

It's possible but not likely.

Sequential killers are generally
quite specifically motivated.

None of these names appear
on more than one list.

Then it must be
a secondary connection.

I'm... I'm sorry to interrupt.

Could I have a word, Inspector?

Of course.

What is it, Sister?

Um, I saw that constable

coming out of your office

only a few moments ago,
and he was counting some money.

It made me fear
the young man might be a thief.

Oh, thank you, Sister.

That's very kind of you
to let me know.

That young man
just happens to be my son,

and he's about to head off
and buy his father

his weekly bottle of Scotch.

I see.

That's fine, then?

Why don't you go back
and take your seat?

Constable Brackenreid.

When you go for my bottle,

see if you can get this lot
some sandwiches for their lunch.

Yes, sir.

Our Sister of Perpetual
Keeping An Eye On Things.

And Not Minding
Her Own Business.

She told us she has no enemies.

I very much doubt that.

I'll have George
visit the convent.

If a nun has something to hide,

what might the others
be keeping from us?

You were trying
to steal from me.

That's a lie!

Back away, Mr. Crawford.

What's going on here?

Agnes saw that thief
going through my handbag.

I didn't touch
your fusty old bag.

I saw you.

I'd believe anything
my girl tells me

before I'd give you
the time of day.

Are any of the items missing?

No.
We interrupted him in the act.

All right, well, why don't you
come with me.

- But...
- Now, Mr. Crawford.

Oh, I see Constable Brackenreid
has brought some refreshments.

It's about time.
I'm starved.

Is there perhaps
a little bit of sugar to be had?

Yes, I can get you some, Sister.

Oh, I can see you're busy.
Please don't trouble yourself.

I'll take it as it is.

Please, help yourselves.

This is all you've got?

I'm a boxer.

I need meat and potatoes.

What have you, George?

Sir, I was rather surprised

by the reaction I got
from people

when I asked them
about Sister Annamaria.

How so?

Well, more than a few people
have rather

un-Christian feelings
towards her, sir.

She's not well liked?

No, in fact many people said
that she's not very nice

for an ordinary person,
let alone a nun.

And yet she couldn't think of
a single person

who bears her ill will.

Let's have a chat with her,
George.

Help!

Help!

Sister! Sister!

It may have been poison.

How long ago?

I can't be sure,

but I will endeavor
to determine that right away.

I'll have
the remains of the meal

sent to the morgue for testing.

Very good.

You told us
we would be safe here.

That nun was killed
right in front of us.

We don't know yet
what caused her death.

- She may have had a heart...
- We know perfectly well.

She was murdered
like the others.

We'll continue to do
the best we can.

That's not been enough.

If you could please excuse us.

In my own bloody station house.
How did this happen, Murdoch?

Dr. Ogden surmises
it was poison.

Possibly administered

prior to the nun's arrival
at the station.

George, what exactly did you
find out about Sister Annamaria?

Well, as I was
saying earlier, sir,

the sister proved to be
surprisingly unpopular

amongst those who knew her.

And why was that?

Well, it seems she liked
to get people into trouble.

Just recently at the convent,

there was another nun
who spoke during silent time.

Sister Annamaria reported her
to the mother superior.

There was a dog
that nipped at the gardener,

and even though he
didn't seem to mind much,

she reported it to
the animal control society,

insisting the dog be put down.

She even tried to
snitch on my own son.

- A habitual tattletale.
- Exactly, sir.

She was known
for getting people fired...

A bank clerk,
a grocery boy, her mailman.

But would that be
enough cause to kill her?

Depends on
the tattle and the tale.

So, what connects her
to the rest of them?

Well, sir,
the convent is located

somewhat near
where Mr. Gibson lived.

Then it's high time I revisit
his apartment, Inspector.

If there's one thing
the nun's death tells us,

it's that I'm no safer here
than anywhere.

- Take Crabtree with you.
- I don't need a minder.

I was thinking
more of a shield.

Inspector!

It's a bloody joke, Crabtree.

Ha bloody ha.

I found a weighable quantity
of a crystal alkaloid

in the victim's stomach.

We determined it
to be strychnine,

a total of three milligrams.

- Enough to kill a person?
- Quite rapidly.

Were any traces of strychnine
found in her lunch?

Well, I found no evidence
of foreign substances

beyond what appears to be
some bits of Prussian sausage.

We did find a suspicious
coloration in the dregs

of the sister's teacup.

We were just about to test it.

By all means, carry on.

The alkaloid chromate that
I've made from the crystals

have been placed
in this porcelain plate.

Should I add the drop
of pure sulfuric acid?

Yes, very good, Miss Hart.

If this is strychnine,
we should see the substance

turn into a rich blue color,

followed by purple
and then to cherry red.

Well, there you have it.

The victim's tea
was the source of the poison.

And if the strychnine
that killed Sister Annamaria

was found in her tea...

then it had to have
been put there

by someone in this station.

John?

Was anyone standing nearby you
when you made the tea?

No.
No one was close to me.

I-I waited by the pot,
and once steeped and poured,

I put the cup on the desk
nearest to the sister.

So any of our guests
may have had access to it.

They'll have to be placed
under closer watch.

Indeed.

I've placed a constable
on each of them.

You'd better
get back out there, son.

Sir.

Which one of them did this,
Murdoch?

Henry, where's Eddie Crawford?

He had to use the water closet.

Go look in on him.
He's not to be left unattended.

Sir.

It has to be
someone in here, doesn't it?

Well, we don't know
for certain,

but we're taking
every precaution.

Sir!

- Eddie went out the window.
- Bloody hell, Higgins!

He's one of our suspects.
That makes him the primary one!

Get out there and find him.

- And bring him back immediately.
- Sir.

Go!

Not so fast, Eddie.

I'm not going back
to that place.

I think you are.

Gibson's body
was found at the bottom.

There's nowhere
to hide out here.

Our killer would have had
to wait inside

until Gibson was distracted,

perhaps lighting his cigarette,

and then stepped out
to give him a good push.

- Simple but effective.
- Mm-hmm.

Sir, are you not concerned
that you yourself are

marked for death?

Oh, I don't like it,

but the truth is death could
come to any one of us any day.

Still,
no need to hurry it along.

Well, very little of life
is under our control.

Very little of death as well.

Watts, have you ever been
to Paris?

Ah, yes.
The City of Light.

I thought that was Buffalo.

No, I believe Paris
came up with it first.

Why do you ask?

Nina's involved with a show
that's performing there.

She wants me to go.

Forever?

No, no,
just a short while.

Well, the world is only an
oyster if you choose to open it.

So go to Paris today,
for tomorrow I might die?

Precisely.

What about you?

What would you do
with your last day?

Just this.

- Talk to a friend.
- Who?

Oh, me?

And solve a crime.

This is
what we're looking for.

Brilliant.

The City of Love
with a beautiful woman.

You'd be a fool to say no.

I thought you said
it was the City of Light.

Light. Love.
Are they not one and the same?

I prefer to love
with the lights off, sir.

I fear I'm bashful.

Issued by the Dominion Bank
on Jarvis Street.

That connects Murray Gibson

and Harrison McCallister,
the bank manager.

Exactly.

In fact, it reminds me
of one of my old cases...

A bank robbery.

A customer was killed.

The man I brought in
was hanged for the crime.

This robbery was at
the Dominion Bank on Jarvis?

Yes. We knew our suspect
pulled the trigger.

We also knew he had an
accomplice who was never found.

You believe that accomplice
to be Murray Gibson?

Perhaps.
This is the file on that case.

The man I arrested
was named Joe Thackeray.

He had previously
been a bank teller.

George, a word.

Sir.

George, you said
Sister Annamaria

got a bank clerk fired.

Do you recall which bank?

Yes, well,
the one she mentioned.

The Dominion Bank on Jarvis.

It's my branch as well.

And the clerk?

I don't know, sir.

Could Joe Thackeray
be the clerk

that was fired from the bank

due to Sister Annamaria's
complaint?

Interesting.

If so, what seemed like
a tenuous connection

that the nun banked
at the same bank

managed by Mr. McCallister
might indeed be salient.

What if the man you arrested

was a disgruntled
ex-bank employee

that was fired by McCallister

due to
Sister Annamaria's complaint?

And a month later robbed
the bank along with Gibson.

So we just need to find out

if the others
know this Joe Thackeray.

You know, I never really thought
very highly of you, Eddie,

but I didn't think
you'd turn out to be

a bloody crackpot either.

I never killed anyone.

So why did you run?

Seemed better than being dead.

Or you were trying to escape

before we found proof
it was you.

Do either of you recognize
the name Joe Thackeray?

Not me.

Oh. That name means
something to you, Mr. Crawford.

If you know something,
you better say it

before you get us all killed.

Shut your trap, why don't you?

I don't know anyone
named Thackeray.

You're a weasel,
just like always.

"Always"? So the two of you
do know one another.

And you both lied about it.

He told me not to tell.

Said it could get us both
into even more trouble.

But I swear I don't know
what it has to do

with someone called Thackeray.

If you value your teeth,
Crawford,

you better cough it up.

I barely knew the man,
all right?

Answer him!

A man by that name
came into the shop

with his rings and his watch.

I gave him some cash
and sent him on his way. See?

We were hardly
the best of pals.

Right,
enough playing silly buggers.

What have you got in here?

What are you planning to do
with a gun, Eddie?

Protect myself, if necessary.

You didn't lie about
knowing Thackeray

because he pawned
a few trinkets.

What are you hiding?

Tell the detective
what he wants to know, Eddie.

- You stay out of this, Lenny.
- You shifty little...

- Calm down, big fella!
- We fixed a fight. All right?

Mr. Crawford
had you throw a fight?

- I didn't want to.
- You took the money, didn't you?

What does this have to do
with Joe Thackeray?

Thackeray was having
money problems.

I suggested he bet on the fight.
I told him I had a fix in on it.

You told Thackeray
to bet against Lenny?

Not really.

I told him it was a surefire
thing that Lenny would win.

So you cheated a desperate man
out of his last few dollars.

I felt bad about it as well.

That's why I tried
to help him out after.

Oh, yeah?
What kind of help?

I set him up with a man
who had a job to do.

Murray Gibson?

Yes.

I knew Gibson
wanted to rob a bank

and was looking for someone
to do it with him.

And Joe Thackeray fit the bill.

Mm. Of course that didn't end
too well for Joe.

So all roads lead
to Joe Thackeray.

He appears to be our linchpin.

Maybe, but he's not our Killer,

given that he's been dead
for six months.

Each of our victims
played a role

in Joe's fall from grace.

She complains,

McCallister fires him.

And Crawford takes his money.

With help from Stoker.

Gibson joins him
for the robbery.

Gibson gets away with the money.

And I arrest him.

Every person here
represents a rung in the ladder

of Joe's downward descent.

Taking him
straight to the gallows.

Except for the little girl.

Where does Agnes Swift
fit into all of this?

I know that man.

He's my father.

Joe Thackeray
was Agnes's father?

As I already told you,
we had little to do with him.

He gave you money
from time to time.

Well, he was
a decent enough fellow,

but we had nothing in common

and no desire
to share a life together.

Still, he tried to help out
with Agnes.

But then the money
stopped coming.

That's right.

And that placed you
into hardship.

Very much so.
Is that some kind of crime?

We asked you
if you knew anything

about the Dominion Bank.

You lied to us.

No, I just wasn't
thinking about Joe.

You're the only person
with a connection

to each
of the obituary subjects.

But I knew nothing of any
of these people before today.

Every one of these people
played a part

in ending Joe Thackeray's life.

And who was most harmed
by that downfall?

You, the mother of his child.

You even included your own
daughter on the obituary list

to get you into the station,

giving you access to the others
you hadn't yet killed.

That's absurd.

Let's have a look
at what we've got in here.

I'd wager
that this is the poison

that killed Sister Annamaria.

I don't know what that is.

That damned pawnbroker was
caught red-handed at my handbag.

It was him.
It must bel.

Mama, can we go?

We have to get to the fair
before it closes.

What are you doing?

- Miss Swift, please don't!
- Put the gun down.

- Mama, don't.
- Come with me, Agnes.

Please stop.
You're hurting me.

Agnes, get over here.

Agnes, right now!

Give me that!

Virginia Swift,
you are under arrest

for the murders
of Harrison McCallister,

Murray Gibson,
and Sister Annamaria.

Come with me, young lady.

The people at the orphanage

can come for Agnes
in a couple of hours.

I've had Crabtree tell Lenny
and Eddie they're free to leave.

Is there not a relative
who can take her?

Miss Swift told us
there is no other family.

The girl is now an orphan,

and I'm the one
who arrested her father.

Thackeray made the
decision to walk into that bank

and use his weapon, not you.

He took his own chances
when he threw his lot in

with the likes of Gibson,

and he suffered
the consequences.

Now so will the child.

Before the orphanage takes her,

perhaps she and I
could go to the fair.

She seemed so set on it.

It might be a way to distract
her from all that's happened.

No one here holds you
responsible, Detective.

Still,
I know how she must be feeling.

Hello, young miss.

Hello.

I heard you mention the fair
a number of times today.

It's at the park.
It's the last day.

Well, perhaps would you like it
if we went?

We can go?
Would you take me?

I don't see why not.

Older children are
far less likely to be adopted,

or to adjust well
to a new family.

William, if we're successful
in our endeavors,

we must be sure
to choose good godparents.

Do you have someone in mind?

Detective! Doctor!

I went
into the inspector's office

to retrieve the vial
from Virginia Swift's handbag.

Yes, that should
go along to the morgue.

Oh, yes, I can take that now.

That's just the thing.

The entire contents of the bag
was dumped out.

The vial of poison is gone.

Who else had opportunity
to take it?

Mr. Crawford?
Mr. Stoker?

Either one, I suppose.

But that doesn't make any sense.
Neither have reason to kill.

Could you have been mistaken
about Miss Swift?

I don't know.

Mama? Can we go?

We have to get to the fair
at the park before it closes.

She knew it was her daughter.

William?

Virginia Swift wasn't trying to
take her daughter hostage.

She was protecting her.

- You don't mean...
- The girl wrote the obituaries.

Agnes is the murderer.

She's got the poison.

And she's at the fair
right now with the man

who arrested her father.

Thank you for taking me,
Mr. Watts.

It's the least I could do.

You're going to make
a very bad day better.

I'm going to say 55 pounds.

All right, then.

Ta-da!

- How can he do that?
- Well, he's an expert.

- Very good.
- Thank you.

Well, Mama always says
I'm just skin and bone.

Do you know what's going to
happen to my mother?

It will depend
on the court findings.

But what she's done
is very serious.

Will she be hanged
like my papa?

I don't know.

Did you know your father well?

He wrote me letters
from his jail cell.

Lots of letters.

He said he loved me very much.

It must be comforting
for you to know that.

It is.

He told me all the things
that happened to him.

He said he was just a man trying
to do his best for his daughter.

He said how scared he was,

knowing he was going to
be hanged.

He asked me to pray for him

and think of him
waiting in his cell

and even after he was gone.

So I do.

I think of him every single day.

Have you ever tried
one of those?

- Can we?
- We must.

Two, please.

- There we are. That's for you.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You first.

Watts!

Watts!

No!

I've had enough company
in my station

to last a lifetime, Crabtree.

Out.

What's gonna happen
to the girl, sir?

We don't hang children.

We send them to an asylum, where
most of them belong anyway.

I see.

Well, get to it.
And don't beat around the bush.

Sir, I'll get
straight to the point.

Uh, how many years
have I been working here?

More than I care to remember.

Well, it's been
a good many years.

And in all that time,
what is the one thing

I've never asked for?

One thing that any man,
any good employee,

certainly deserves?

You're not getting
a bloody raise.

That's not
what I was gonna ask, sir.

Although
now that you mention it...

To the point.

Sir, I would like some time off
to visit Paris with Miss Bloom.

Oh, you lucky sod.

Sir?

You should go
even if I say no.

Sir, I didn't think
you thought much of the French.

I don't.

But that city has certainly
treated me well in the past.

There was this one
particular young woman.

Celine.
Her name meant "heaven."

Oh, and by God, Crabtree,

she took me to heaven and back
on numerous occasions.

And she wasn't the only one
I made good acquaintance with.

The Frenchmen
I couldn't give a toss about.

But the women?
Ooh la la.

Sir, I would be traveling
with a woman.

The city will transform her
into a tiger.

Really?

Go and get on that boat,
Crabtree.

I'm sure
Station House Number Four

will persevere in your absence.

Thank you, sir.

Dans mon coeur toujours,
Celine.

And to you.