All language subtitles for M.M.s16e12.Porcelain.Maiden.720p.WEB.DL.x264.Poke.35372_track3_[eng]

(theme music)

(♪)

(indistinct chatter)

(whistling)

- Ah! What the hell?!

(man): Where is it, Rankins?
- Where's what?

- The parcel! Where is it?

- I don't know what
you're talking about!

- Give us the parcel, Rankins.

- You've got the wrong guy!
I am not Rankins.

- Should I cut him, Johnny?

- What are you telling him
my name for?

- Oh, I'm not.

I'm gonna cut him.
- No, don't cut me!

(Johnny): Then give us
the parcel.

- I don't have the parcel!

- Should I cut him?
I'll cut him.

(Johnny): Get us the parcel
by noon tomorrow.

Else otherwise.

- Fine! Fine. Yes. Good.

- Tomorrow noon. The alley
behind the old Gopnik Shipyard.

If we don't get the parcel,

we will spend every moment
of every day

for the rest of our lives

hunting you down
until you're dead.

Let's go.

(man): You should've let me
cut him!

(Johnny): Why do you always want
to cut people?

- What?

Watts.

- Henry?

(man): Who is it?

- What are you doing here?

- I need your help.

I've done a very bad thing.

(baby cooing)

(Murdoch): Ah, perfect.
(Julia): William?

What're you doing?
- Ah, Julia!

I believe I've solved
our problem.

- Oh, what problem?

- Yesterday at the park
I turned my back on Susannah

for the briefest of moments.

She crawled away

and was nearly struck
by a boy on a tricycle!

(sighs)

In the blink of an eye
anything could happen.

So, I have invented

the all-purpose baby tether.

- It's a leash.

- It's a tether for
her safety.

You see, even here at home
it could keep her

from reaching the stove, or...
or something in my workshop.

- William, it's a leash.

- We need to allow her
to practise her crawling

without putting herself
in harm's way.

Hence, the tether.

- Leash.

- I'm off to work.

I'll see you at dinnertime.

- For heaven's sake!

Come here. Oh!

I have an idea.

Let's do something dangerous.

(chuckles)

- Where is everyone,
Murdoch?

- Well, George is still
on his honeymoon.

Henry called in sick

and Evans and Langston are
taking care of a traffic block.

A horse has sat
on an automobile.

- Oh. Well, let's hope something
doesn't fall in your lap

or you'll be stuck with me.

(phone ringing)

- Detective Murdoch.

- I take it we'll be spending
the day together.

- Yes, yes, of course.

I'll be right there.

- A few months ago I started
using my auto

to deliver packages.

- You're a courier?

- Yes. But...

my telephone number ended up
in the hands of some...

unsavoury people.

They offered to pay me
double my fee.

The implication was that
I wouldn't ask any questions.

- So, these people were
likely criminals

and the packages likely
contained illicit goods.

- What's the difference?

So I didn't look inside
their packages.

I don't look inside anyone
else's packages, either.

- Plausible deniability may
help you sleep better at night,

but it is hardly a substitute
for morality.

- The point is these are
dangerous men!

And they're after me.

- So, inform the inspector.

- The inspector swore he'd fire
me if he ever caught me

working a second job again.

- I would be more concerned
about being arrested

for criminal conspiracy.

- That's why I need your help
to get it back.

- Get what back?

- The parcel.

See, a couple of nights ago,
I got a call.

I went to pick up a delivery
from a man named Rankins.

He didn't give me a name.

Just an address
on Tyndall Avenue.

When I got there, someone
was being arrested.

(Watts): Who was it?

(Higgins): The man I was
delivering the parcel to.

It had to be.

(Watts): And did you stop?

- I didn't want to get
mixed up

in whatever was going on.

So I went back to the corner
where I picked up the parcel,

but there was no sign
of Rankins.

I looked him up in the city
directory, but no luck.

So I went home.

- And where's the parcel?

(sighs)

- I was about to throw it out.

But...

Well, someone was paying me
a good fee to deliver it,

so it had to be valuable.

I figured, as long as I'm going
to toss it out, anyways,

why not take it to a pawn shop?

(scoffs)

- Severing once and for all
your thin tether to morality.

- I didn't set out to do
anything wrong.

I just...

did whatever seemed
all right in the moment.

- Oof.

So, these two men,
one with a knife,

are seeking a statuette
of a horse.

- Yes.
- So take your pawn ticket

back to the pawn shop.
- I didn't pawn it.

I sold it.

And I only got two dollars
for it, but now it's gone.

And that old pawnbroker
won't tell me who he sold it to.

I need your help, Watts.

We have to find that horse.

- I left the constabulary,
Henry.

I'm no longer an investigator.

- Watts! I...

Watts, if I don't find
that statuette,

they'll kill me.

Please, I need your help.

(intriguing music)

(Murdoch): A single gunshot
wound at close range.

No identification.

But there's this.

- What's in it?

- Looks to be five crisp
$100 bills.

- Crikey.

So, this fella's walking around
with a small fortune on him,

someone gets wind of it
and tries to rob him.

They have an altercation;
he ends up dead.

- But they didn't take
the money.

- You can't exactly spend a bill
with a bullet hole through it,
Murdoch.

- Unlucky shot.

- For the both of them.

(whistling)

- Sign says
back in five minutes.

- Stop that.

- Stop what?

- That whistling.
It's annoying.

- I didn't realize I was.

That melody's been stuck
in my ear all week.

(Higgins): There he is.

- Right.

(clears throat)
- Wait!

What are you...
What are you going to do?

- I'll tell him I'm a detective
and the statuette

was left behind at the scene
of a robbery.

He, ergo, is a suspect.

- That's good.

That's good.

(city hubbub)

Go ahead.

(Watts): So, suspicion falls
to you...

unless you are able to exonerate
yourself by telling me

who else may have been
in possession of said statuette.

- You know, I'll bet you dollars
to doughnuts

it was that pie-faced
Charlie who was in here
just this morning.

- This man purchased
the statuette?

- No, no, no. He's the one
who sold it to me.

Then he came back later
looking for it.

Real daft type.

It's gotta be him. I mean,
the woman who bought it,

she wouldn't be involved
in a crime.

- A woman?

A witness saw a woman
near the scene of the crime.

Describe her for me.

- Classy, all over.

There's a fat chance
she did anything criminal.

- Nevertheless, describe her.

Due diligence et cetera.

- Listen, pally. It ain't her.

I mean, here: she even paid me
with this fancy cheque.

She's not the criminal type.

- If I could have a look
at that.

- What'd you say your name was?

- Detective Millshh...
- What?

- If I could take just
a quick look.

- Okay, pal, let me see
your badge.

- How much for this?
- What? Wh...

Hey! Wait, wait!
Come back here! Wait!

- How did it go--
- Run! Run, run, run, run!

- Hey! Hey, wait!
Come back here, you miserab...

Lady, watch where you're going!

(Susannah giggling)
- Having fun, Susannah?

I told you it would be
dangerous!

(grunting)
- This way!

- Curses!

- Oh! Good God, I'm a criminal.

I can't believe I did that.

Ah, pencil.

(grunts)

(sighs)
- Here.

Give me that.

- Look! It's for $20!
I knew he ripped me off!

- That hardly matters
at this juncture.

We now know the buyer
is "B. Vermont"

and we have an address
in Rosedale.

- Let's go. My auto's just
around the corner.

- A moment.
- What are you doing?

- Righting a wrong.

- Oh, for God's sake!

- Sending this back to
the pawn shop.

Thank you for seeing us,
Mrs. Vermont.

- What can I do for you,
gentlemen?

- We are private investigators
with the Pinkerton Agency.

Our client has hired us
to locate an item,

a golden statuette
of a horse.

We understand you may have
purchased it?

- Yes, that's right.

- Our client seeks its return.

He sold it accidentally.

- For a pittance.

(Watts): It holds great
sentimental value.

- Well, I'm afraid
it holds the same for me.

You see, my late husband
kept racehorses.

The statuette reminded me
of his favourite maiden.

To me, it is priceless.

I shall keep it on the mantel
in Benjamin's study

until the day I die.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a funeral to plan.

- Of course.
Thank you for your time.

One, pl--
- No!

She has it.
Let's go get it back.

- I recognized her husband.

The man in the oil painting.

His surname somehow eluded me,

but he's been in the papers
every day.

Here, look.

- "Arrest made
in Vermont murder."

It says the culprit
is Nathan Fine

of Tyndall Avenue in Parkdale.

(indistinct chatter)

- That's where I was making
the delivery.

This guy must have sent
those men after the horse.

- The article describes him
as a bookmaker and...

violent criminal.

- And this violent criminal's
friends are going to kill me!

Watts, we have to break
into that mansion

and steal back that statuette.

- I will be doing no such thing.

- We've already been lying.

If we're only breaking the law
to do something good,

namely, saving my life!

Then, isn't that kind of better?

You know, overall?

- Sometimes the greater
of two evils is inaction but,

in this instance, my boundary
is firm.

Plus, it remains unclear
what Mrs. Vermont's interest
is in all this.

- Then I'll do it myself.

- There's no talking you
out of it?

- No.
- Right.

I noticed the house
was not in model repair.

The gate at the end
of the hedge was ajar

and one of the windows in
the parlour has a broken latch.

- So?

- I'll draw you a diagram.

(Hart): Single gunshot wound,
close range.

(Murdoch): Any signs of
a struggle? Any other injuries?

- No.

- Nothing unusual at all, then?

- Um, just this.

His fingers.

- Discoloured.

(Murdoch): Dark spots.

I believe I've seen this
before.

This is the result of contact
with silver nitrate.

- Silver nitrate. What's that?

- It's a chemical commonly
found in darkrooms.

- Ah.

- This man was a photographer.

(grunting)

- Whoa!

(thudding)

(mysterious music)

(whispering): Fireplace.

(chuckles)

(Mrs. Vermont): Mr. Holly,
have you seen my eyeglasses?

(Mr. Holly): I'll check
the parlour.

(Mrs. Vermont): I've got...
Never mind.

They're on the chain
around my neck.

(sighs in relief)

(♪)

- Oh, I'm a dead man.

(dramatic music)

I'm a dead man!

- I question the wisdom
of you taking it.

Its absence might be noticed.

- I was hoping I could
glue the pieces back together.

- The men awaiting its return
may notice that.

(sighs)
- They said they would hunt me
until I was dead.

I can't die.

If I die, then what?

- That is humanity's ultimate
question, is it not?

But while you ponder that, have
you noticed the man behind us?

- What man?
- Don't look.

He's been following us.

- Are you sure?
- No.

But certainty is a rare thing.

This way.

Keep moving.

We'll go to Queen
and get on a streetcar

to see if he follows.

- Watts! Watts!

Look! That store window.

Come on.

It's a miracle.

(sighs)

- Henry, I'm not sure this
is the cure-all you think it is.

- They're identical. Those men
will never know the difference.

- If the statuette is worth
six cents,

why did someone pay you
a healthy fee

to deliver it
to a career criminal

under cover of darkness?

- I don't know.

- Clearly the statuette itself
is not what those men are after.

- They asked for the parcel.
I'll give them the parcel.

Problem solved.

(shattering)

- Where's the key, Rankins?

- What key? You wanted
the parcel, this is it.

- Enough.

Cut him.
- I don't have any key!

I'm not Rankins!
- Say one more thing we don't
wanna hear, Rankins.

Just one more.

- Should I really cut him?
- Yes.

- Then, the whole neck, or
just a little cut?

- He doesn't have it.
Gut him!

- Wait! Wait! I have it!
I have the key.

- Well, then hand it over!
Or else you're a dead man.

- I'm not a dead man.

I'm Rankins.

And I'm your only hope!

Do you really think Mr. Fine
will be happy when you tell him

that I'm dead and the key
is lost forever?

- Who said we work for Fine?

- If you want the key,
you pay double!

You meet me back here
at 6 p.m. with the money,

or the key goes into
Lake Ontario.

Ha.

- Are you mad? You only gave
yourself six hours?

- Well, it had to be believable.

- We don't even know what
the key is for,

to say nothing of where it is.

- Uh, we know exactly
where it is.

Mrs. Vermont broke
the statuette.

Obviously, the key was inside.

- And since Mrs. Vermont
had the original figurine,

she must have the key.

Your logic is flawless, Henry.

I apologise if my tone
is one of surprise,

but it reflects my feelings.

Don't look! The man is back.
- Where?

(Watts): I said don't look.

(Higgins): I need to know where
not to look!

- Behind you. And now you can
look; he's coming right for us.

- What?

- Gentlemen, I beg your pardon.

My name is Mr. Holly.

I'm here to extend you
an invitation.

- To what?

- To a meeting
with my employer, Mrs. Vermont.

(city hubbub)

(Brackenreid): They're closed.

(Murdoch): They usually open
at noon.

- Ah, Detective.

Sorry I'm late.

I think I have everything.

- Oh. Very well.

- Would you like to come in?

- That won't be necessary.

- Is something the matter?

- We need to know
if you recognize this man.

- Oh, heavenly Jesus
and his apostles.

(retching)

(groans)

Uh, sorry.

Never seen a dead man before.

- Right.
Sorry about that.

- That's Mr. Cone.

Whatever's happened to him?

- Perhaps we'll spare you
the details.

- Yes, quite right.

- What can you tell us
about him?

- He was a regular customer.

A real enthusiast.

He always developed
his own photographs.

- Up to something illicit?
Peeping Tom maybe?

- Perhaps, sir.

Can you tell us anything else
about him?

- He lived in that building
on Duchess and Beverley,

I believe.
- Right.

Thank you very much.

- But--

- I apologize if Mr. Holly
was brusque with you gentlemen,

but it was important
that I speak to you immediately.

I'm afraid I wasn't entirely
honest with you earlier.

The statuette you inquired about
meant nothing to me.

- You only wanted what
was inside.

- You are clever.

So I ask you: have you
found what you're looking for?

- You have
what we're looking for.

- I'm afraid I do not.

Shall we speak plainly,
gentlemen?

- Yes, please.

- The key was not in the maiden.

- Then where is it?

- I was hoping
that you could tell me!

You see, should you find it,

I would very much like
the opportunity to purchase it.

- Our client is highly motivated
to see its return.

- And has your client told you
what that key is for?

(scoffs)

- No.

- As you may be aware,
my husband was murdered.

A few days ago I received
an anonymous telephone call,

a man selling evidence
that would convict his killer.

The key is to a locker
in Parkdale Station

which contains that evidence.

- They already arrested someone,
a Mr. Fine.

- The police are going
to release him by the end
of the day.

Mr. Fine, he wants that evidence
so he can eliminate it.

He killed my Benny!

And... and now nothing is going
to happen to him.

(sobbing)

Ah, thank you.

Mr. Fine is who hired you,
is that right?

- Our client is someone
who is caught in the middle.

- Well, whoever you work for,

please do not give
that evidence to Mr. Fine.

(sighs)

Consider this a retainer
for your services.

Regardless, you can keep it.

But if you bring me that key,
I will see to it

that you are paid twice
what anyone else is offering.

(intriguing music)

- We're no closer to finding
the key, but this changes
our aim.

We can't deliver the key to
Mr. Fine's men.

- Why not?
- Because he will destroy
the evidence and go free.

- So?
- That is an affront to justice.

- As soon as we find that key
I'm giving it to the people

who will kill me if I don't.
End of story.

(sighs)
- Oof!

Ugh!

I've stepped in sick.

Oh! I've stepped in sick!

Ugh!

(sighs)
Henry,

I find your position on
the matter of justice abhorrent.

That you are a police constable
makes it all the more troubling.

But seeing as we have no idea
where the key is,

the point is entirely academic.

- Rankins must have it.

- Oh-ho-ho!

- Think about it: if Rankins
is the guy who had the evidence,

maybe he's the one
who made the anonymous phone
call to Mrs. Vermont.

He's playing two customers
against one another.

Maybe he agreed to sell it
to Fine,

but decided to hold out
for more money.

I'll bet you anything he never
put the key in that figurine.

- Which scarcely helps you.
Rankins is a ghost.

- Oh, we have to try.

We can go back to where
he gave me the parcel.

Maybe there'll be some sign
of him.

- You there!

How much for one shoe?

- 15 cents.

- Ah, for a pair.
How much for one shoe?

- Why do you want
one shoe shined?

- Only one shoe is dirty.

- One shoe is two shoes.

- It is not.

- Shoeshine's a shoeshine,
friend.

It's one thing.
- Can we get going?

- Fine.

Make it quick.

Oh!

(sighs)

(intriguing music)

(creaking)

- Here it is. This is where
he gave me the parcel.

- I don't see anything
of interest.

- Ah, maybe he lives
in one of these apartments,

or someone knows him,
at least.

(whistling)

- Here we are.
Duchess and Beverly.

- This must be Mr. Cone's
building.

- Aha. See? That tune sticks
in your ear.

You'll be whistling it
all week.

- My God, you're right.

If you catch me whistling
it again, you can smack me.

Come on.

- Wait. It's the pawnbroker.

We can't let him see us.

- Hey! You!

Ah! Stop! Stop!

Stop! Stop! Come back!

Stop! Stop, come back!

- Should we look into that?

- I'm sure it's nothing.

Come on, Murdoch.

- Hey! I just want my cheque!

- Did we lose him?
- Ah, he didn't stand a chance!

Whoa!
(brakes screeching)

(Susannah giggling)

Oh, I almost killed someone.

- Uh, Henry.

- What?
- What's this?

- The box.
From the statuette.

- Which one?

- The one Rankins gave me.

I took the statuette out
before I sold it.

(gasps)

(rustling)

- Nothing.
- Are you sure?

- Curious.

- Oh my God. I'm not gonna die!

(panting)

I have to give this
to those men, Watts.

- If you do,
a notorious murderer,

Mr. Fine, will go free.

- If I don't, they'll kill me.

(sighs)

- The parcel was entrusted
to you.

The key was in the parcel.

It's yours to do
with as you see fit.

But you engaged me,

which led to me learning
the facts of the situation.

My knowledge of these facts
demands I inform the police.

- Your knowledge
doesn't demand anything!

- It does if I wish
to lead an ethical life.

- Who cares about that?

If I don't show up with
this key,

or if those men think
that I told the police,
they'll kill me.

Watts, I have a wife
and a daughter at home.

- We open the locker ourselves.

We ascertain that
the evidence is relevant.

If it is, we photograph it.

You deliver the key
to the men who want you dead

and I deliver a facsimile
of the evidence to the police

anonymously after enough time
has passed that the men

will no longer suspect
your involvement.

- Fine.

(♪)

- Excelsior.

- What?

- Excelsior.
Fine strands of wood

used for packaging
delicate goods.

- I know what it is!

How on earth do you know
what it's called?

- Well, it's common...

- Lot of photographs.

It doesn't appear
that Mr. Cone's a Peeping Tom.

- Hm. Private investigator.

- Ah! So, which one of
his cases got him killed?

Aye-aye.
I know that fella.

- Oh, I think I do, as well.
The bookmaker.

- That's right. Fine.

- I heard he was arrested
for possibly murdering

the wealthy racehorse owner.

- Murdoch? Blood.

- Sir, these photographs
are numbered.

1-12.

1-26.

- So, there's 13 missing.

- Perhaps the photos
in between

depict Mr. Fine
murdering someone?

- So, Cone took the photos,
offered to sell them to Fine.

He pays $500
and keeps the photos.

- And then kills Mr. Cone
to ensure no one ever finds
out the truth.

- I think we've just
found our killer, Murdoch.

(indistinct chatter)

- Stop.
- What?

- There's a man sitting to
our left reading a newspaper.

There's another man sitting
to our

right reading a newspaper.

They're both reading
yesterday's papers.

- They must be watching
the locker.

- Or it's just a coincidence.

- What do we do?

- I have an idea.

You'll be from Cincinnati;
I'll be from Vienna.

(coughing)

(intriguing music)

- Ach! Mein Gott!
- Hey.

A moment of your time,
friend?

- Hey, get your hands off of...
Hey! Hey!

- Shh, easy now. Easy.

- What's going on? Oh.

- Let's go.
- Hello.

(♪)

Hey!

Where are we going?

I'm from Cincinnati.

(grunts)
- Get in here!

(engine revving)

- Hey, hey!

Follow that automobile.
Do it quickly.

(Fine): I already talked
to you people.

(Murdoch): You people?

- Coppers.

You don't respect me,
I don't respect you.

Luckily, I don't need you.

All you've got is some anonymous
tip with no evidence.

My lawyer's gonna get me outta
here by the end of the day.

- Mr. Fine, you are being
detained regarding the murder
of Benjamin Vermont.

I'm here regarding another
dead man:

Milton Cone.

(Fine): Never heard of him.

- He was found murdered
down by River Street earlier
this morning.

- Mm. Well, you know what?

I'll send his widow
some flowers.

- He had $500 tucked into
his jacket.

- She can buy her own flowers.

- A withdrawal was made
from your account

at the Dominion Bank
for $500 cash just this week.

- Hm.

What can I tell ya?

- It's quite a coincidence,
don't you think?

- Sometimes things mean
something;

sometimes they don't.

- Mr. Fine, I believe you killed
Mr. Cone

because of something he knew
about Mr. Vermont's murder.

(Fine): I'm tired of this.

You want the truth
about Vermont?

Find Rankins.

- What do we do with him now?

- Just leave him in there.

(heavy breathing)

(grunting)

(coughing)

- What now?
- We wait for the boss.

And here we are.

(suspenseful music)

(chuckles)

- This is what was in
the locker?

- That's right.

- Fetch the gasoline and start
a fire, will you?

- What about him?

- Make it a big fire!

- What?

(dramatic music)

- What is this?
There's nothing in here.

- This is the guy.
That's what was in the locker.

- Which locker?

- The locker. Shep, the key.

- 145.

It's the wrong locker!

Get back to the railway
station at once.

Let's go.

(sighs)

- What do we do with him?
- What do you think?

- Leave him here?

- He could go to the police.

- So, we have to do something
about him.

- Yeah.

- Um, maybe we tell him
not to go to the police?

- I'm not much for conversation.

(grunting)

(clattering)
- Wh-what was that?

- There!

- Run!

(gunshots)

(intense music)

(sighs)

Mrs. Vermont was set
on destroying the evidence

that is in that locker.

We can safely say she is not
a grieving widow

seeking to convict
her husband's murderer.

Do you think
she killed him herself?

- Almost certainly.

Which means Mr. Fine
is innocent.

- See? I should have just given
the key to his men

in the first place
and this would all be over.

- And we wouldn't have nearly
been shot dead in the alley.

- Now what do we do?

- This is a good question.

(sighs)

Let us entertain the scenarios
available to us.

Scenario one.

We return to the station
in an attempt to retrieve

the evidence from the locker.

Then the men with yesterday's
newspapers see us,

recognize us,
kidnap us and take the key.

Mrs. Vermont destroys
the evidence

and goes unpunished
for the murder of her husband.

- They'll also kill us.
- Yes, I elided that part.

We will surely be killed.

(sombre music)

Scenario two:
you deliver the key

to Mr. Fine's men.

They take it to the station
where the men with yesterday's
newspapers see them.

If Fine's men come out alive,

they will likely believe
you led them into this trap

and thereafter seek to kill you.

If they don't come out alive,
Mr. Fine himself

will have to think that Rankins,
you, was in league

with Mrs. Vermont and
led his men to their deaths.

Whatever the outcome,
you will likely be killed.

Scenario three:
we deliver the key

to Mrs. Vermont.

She goes free

and Mr. Fine's men
seek you out and kill you.

Scenario four:

you mail the key
to Detective Murdoch

with a note explaining
its relevance.

He takes it to the station

where the men with
yesterday's newspapers see him

and alert Mrs. Vermont,
allowing her a chance to flee.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fine's men
seek you out and kill you.

- None of these scenarios
sounds good.

- I know.

There remains scenario five,

in which you deliver the key
to the detective

and the inspector in person.

You explain everything.

They deploy constables
to protect you indefinitely

while they retrieve the evidence
and attempt to prosecute

Mrs. Vermont, her men and
perhaps even Mr. Fine's men
who did...

- Oh! What the hell?

- ...after all, assault you.

- The inspector learns
everything.

I could go to jail.
I'll lose my job.

- But not your life.

(sighs)

You don't understand.

I wasn't delivering parcels
because I wanted the money.

I needed it.

Our house was a gift
from Rupert and Lucinda,

but we can't afford it.

If I lose my job, we'll be out
in less than a month.

- As imperfect as it may be,

it's the only scenario
that results in anything
other than you,

or both of us,
getting killed.

(sighs)
- I can't face the inspector.

You do it.
- I'd very much rather not.

It's your predicament.

- And one I would have been
out of if your stupid morals

hadn't have stopped me from
giving the key to those men

as soon as we found it!

- We never would have found
the key if I hadn't stolen

the cheque from the pawnbroker,
whose ire caused me

to topple arse over tip into
your automobile.

- Heads it's me.

Tails it's you.

(suspenseful music)

- Mr. Fine claims he doesn't
know Mr. Cone

and that the $500 is just
a coincidence.

- And Decker at Station House
One is about to let him go.

- It seems that without
the missing photographs,

they don't have enough evidence
to convict him.

- Fine didn't give you anything?

- All he said was the answer
lies with a man named Rankins.

(Brackenreid): Rankins?
Who's Rankins?

- I have no idea.

- What is it, Higgins?

(phone ringing)
Oh.

Brackenreid.

Oh! Just a sec, Doctor.

It's the missus.

(Murdoch): Hello?

(Brackenreid): Thought you were
off sick?

- I was, sir.

I'm feeling much better now.

- Well, get back to work then.

- Right away.

- All right.
I'll see you then.

- Everything all right
on the home front?

- Oh, yes. Julia just needs me
to bring home a lens

for our slide projector.

- What for?

- Once again, I am at a loss.

- You couldn't go through
with it?

- Hear me out.

Detective Murdoch
is investigating...

Detective Murdoch
is investigating the death

of a P.I. named Milton Cone.

But I saw his photo,
Cone is Rankins.

- The man who gave you
the parcel.

- Precisely.
Rankins must be his alias.

Fine told Detective Murdoch
that Rankins is the key
to the case,

but he has no idea that Cone
and Rankins

are one and the same.

- So what?
- So, it gave me an idea.

Scenario six.

The timing will have to be
perfect.

We lure all the players together
at exactly the same time.

Mrs. Vermont thinks she's
getting just what she wants

but, instead,
she gets caught red-handed.

- Murdoch,
there's a letter for you.

Look who it's from.

- Rankins? What on earth?

"Go to this locker at
Parkdale Station and wait.

The killer will appear
at 6 p.m."

- What locker?

(♪)

- In truth, Mrs. Vermont,

my client was not
a disinterested party.

He presented himself to me
as a clumsy delivery boy

who'd lost something of
great value.

In fact, he was a rat.

He pretended to have lost
the key

in order to sell it to Nathan
Fine at an inflated price.

When I discovered the truth,
I brought it to you.

(Mrs. Vermont): You trust me.

- I trust you will pay me
what you promised.

Double Mr. Fine's best price.

- A promise is a promise.

- Sorry I'm late.
But I have something for you.

- What's this? We don't want
our money back.

- We want the key, Rankins.

- You'll get a refund
and the key will end up

right where you want it to.

But you have to do
one last thing.

(indistinct chatter)

- Nothing.
- A ruse?

(grunting)
- How dare you?

- What's all the commotion?
Toronto Constabulary.

- These men have concealed
weapons.

- Is that right?
- Now what's going on?

We didn't do a thing!

- What's in your pocket?

- Uh, my handkerchief.

- Oh, yeah.

What's this then?

Search him, constables.

(hubbub)

- Excuse me, Miss.
- I'm afraid I haven't the time.

- I'm afraid you aren't
going anywhere.

I'd like to see what's inside
of this envelope

and inform you that you are
a suspect in the murder

of Benjamin Vermont.

- I was having a liaison
with Mr. Fine.

I met him when he approached
Benny about fixing a race.

And Benny refused,
of course.

There's something wrong with me,
Detective.

I... I crave excitement.

And Mr. Fine was so exciting.

But Benny began to get
suspicious.

I think he hired
the private investigator

who took these photos.

That night,

Nathaniel and I met.

Benny was supposed to be
travelling to Rochester,

but he missed the boat
and...

when he found us together,
he was furious.

He was out of his mind.

Nathan fled, but it was me that
Benny was angry with.

He hit me.

Again and again.

I... I had no choice
but to pull the trigger.

What are those?

- The bullets proved it was
the same gun used

to kill her husband
and the P.I.

- Even if her story
of killing Mr. Vermont in
self-defence were true,

she still murdered Mr. Cone.

- She's dead to rights.

- That just leaves the identity
and the role of Rankins.

- I doubt he's important.

Higgins, where have you been?

- I was chasing a thief.

- Where is he?

- He got away.

- Bloody hell.
I've half a mind to fire you.

(whistling)

(chuckles)

- What will you do with it?

- I'm considering keeping it.

- You lied to her
and got her arrested.

Doesn't seem very moral
to keep her money.

- I've been reflecting
on this, Henry.

Morality is not a constant.

Principles are not immutable.

Do you know who
I learned this from?

- I don't really know
philosophy.

- "Do whatever seems all right
in the moment."

Henry Higgins.

A notion as profound as any.

- Hm. Well, sometimes
I just say these things.

- As of today,
I intend to start living my life

in accordance with
the teachings of Higgins

and today what seems all right
is taking this money

and investing it in myself.

- Investing it how?

- Well, since Mr. Cone
is no longer,

perhaps Toronto could use
a new private investigator.

(Julia): All right, it's ready.

- What's this all about?

- I've been working
on a little surprise.

You see, William, you're right
that Susannah

is going to get up
to all kinds of trouble.

But there's nothing
we can do about that.

In the blink of an eye,

something terrible could happen,
but...

something wonderful too,
could happen.

We have no idea what the world
has in store for her.

Could you get the lights?

(chuckles)

(Susannah cooing)
- Oh!

(Julia chuckles)

Julia, how did you do this?

- I had a little bit of help
from Mr. Talman

at the photo shop.

- No wonder he said
all of those strange things.

Julia, these are marvelous.

- Oh, William, I just wanted
to remind you

that the possibilities
of her life are endless.

And no tether is going to keep
her from exploring them.

(sighs)

(theme music)

Subtitling: difuze