All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 08x17 - Election Day.KILLERS.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

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_

(whooping)

I will do immediately. Thank you.

Crabtree! In here.

- Sirs.
- Pack up your desk.

- Excuse me?
- And buy a suit.

Davis at Station House Number Three

wants you as his detective.

- You start in two weeks.
- Sir, truly?

Detective Crabtree.

Congratulations.

"Detective Crabtree" I
like the sound of that!

No time to celebrate, we've
got to get to the polls.

Margaret's waiting.

Oh, sir, I already voted
in the advance polls,

in case I was detained on an investigation.

That's what advance polls are for.

(Emily): Come along, the
polling station's this way.

(crowd murmuring)

Good day, Dr. Nesbitt. Mr. Marter.

Dr. Ogden, whatever are
you ladies doing here?

The same as you, gentlemen.

Not quite the same thing.

We are here to cast our
own votes, after all.

I hear it's to be a tight race today.

Yes, between Mr. Marter and I.

May the best man win.

The line is back here.

Why wait in line when you can be first in?

They'll get their turn soon enough.

Voting is open!

- Shall we?
- We've a busy day ahead.

Busier than we expected. As of last night,

we have 26 committed
voters for Margaret Haile.

26 men in support of women's suffrage!

And no matter how many votes we get,
we're showing other women it can be done.

So, although

- Mr. Marter is the incumbent...
- And the Conservative.

Didn't I vote for him last time?

No, he's since left the Conservatives
and is running as an Independent.

Independent. I quite
like the sound of that.

Perhaps he had enough of
back-room party shenanigans.

Don't be silly, Thomas,

he's pouting because he didn't
get a Senate appointment.

On the other hand, the
new Conservative candidate,

Dr. Nesbitt, is a scoundrel!

Well, that just leaves the lady candidate.

Doctor Ogden will be chuffed.

Any woman who manages her life
right doesn't need suffrage.

I'm perfectly happy to leave

the whole dirty business to my husband.

I've decided to support Doctors
Ogden and Grace in their cause.

A wasted vote, in my books.

We're voting for the party as usual.

- Isn't that right, Thomas?
- (people clamouring)

Wait there, Margaret.

- Excuse me!
- Toronto Constabulary.

The Detective had the right idea, sir.

Voting will have to wait.

Constabulary, move aside please.

I heard George is moving up in the ranks.

Why, yes.

Detective Crabtree,

would you care to assess
the scene of the crime?

I would indeed, sir.

(Emily): How very odd!

Yes, it appears our victim
is wearing a fake moustache.

Dr. Ogden and I saw two men entering

the polling station wearing red ties.

I can't be sure of his
face, but I remember the tie.

He's still warm despite the morning chill.

Could very well be one of the men you saw.

He was strangled it would seem,

and with no small amount of force.

His name is Plantagenet McCarthy.

Alright then, Detective,

how do you think the investigation
should proceed from here?

Well, sir, as we already have Constables
interviewing witnesses in the area,

I would dispatch another Constable,

in this case, myself...

to dig into background information
for our victim, Mr. McCarthy.

And as the Detective...

in this case, you, sir...

I would probably proceed to the
victim's last known whereabouts.

Sounds about right.

- Indeed.
- Off we go.

Thank you, Dr. Grace.

Good morning, Margaret.

It's a fine day to make history, Lillian.

Margaret, I don't know what happened.

One of our supporters just told me
that your name isn't on the ballot!

- How can that be?
- I'll telephone Clara Brett Martin.

Get word to our supporters
at other polling stations.

lt's not in my
power to stop voting.

I assure you, Margaret Haile is
a properly registered candidate.

- If her name isn't on the ballot...
- It's not on the ballot.

Then none of these votes are valid.

You'll need to take your
complaint up with Mr. Snipe,

- our Returning Officer.
- Can I help you, ladies?

I certainly hope so.

Mr. Snipe, we have no intention of leaving!

Then I will be forced to call the police.

Detective Murdoch, Toronto
Constabulary. May I help you?

Take your hands off the ladies, sir.

Margaret Haile has been
left off the ballots.

- Yet men continue to vote.
- I am the returning officer

and I am not prepared to stop the vote.

If the ballots are incorrect,
sir, is it not your fault?

No...

Let me see what I can do, sir.

On another matter, we need the list of
all the men who voted in the last hour,

as well as the names of your staff.

You will need to talk to my clerks.

Do you recall seeing two men

wearing red ties? They came in together.

Uh, yes,

yes I do. They were the
first and second to vote.

- (telephones ringing)
- Alexander Cuddy

and Plantagenet McCarthy.

Will that be all, sir?

Yes, thank you.

It appears our victim's
friend was one Alexander Cuddy

- of 18 Suffolk Street.
- I'll have him brought in.

You get over to McCarthy's
place, see what you can find.

That's wonderful news, Georg!

You've wanted this for so long.

I was starting to think
it would never happen.

I can't believe I'll be
out of this uniform forever.

Can you imagine me going off
to work in a nice dapper suit?

And just think of it, I mean,

you'll be the one solving the crimes

and catching the murderers and
making sure families see justice!

It's all on your shoulders.

Now that you mention it,
I hope I'm up to the task.

Well of course you are,

with your experience and smarts!

What if I'm not as capable
without Detective Murdoch's help?

Put that thought out of your
head, George. You'll be fine.

And besides, you'll have
a Crabtree of your own.

Edna...

I have to get back.

Well, meet me for lunch. I'll
take you out to celebrate.

I'd love that.

- Clara, thank God you're here.
- Julia, Margaret. What a disappointment!

What do the election laws say about this?

They don't seem to
account for such a mistake.

- It's never happened before.
- Not the history we wanted to make.

Here's the Returning
Officer now. Mr. Snipe,

this is Clara Brett
Martin, Miss Haile's lawyer.

Mr. Snipe, I assure you all of Miss
Haile's candidacy papers are in order,

and as such she has every
right to appear on the ballot.

That may be,

but I won't disrupt the voting
for the sake of a stunt candidate.

If you can't make this right, I will
petition a judge to order an injunction.

You can try what you like.

Miss Haile was never going to win,

so I very much doubt
that this particular error

makes any real difference either way.

Good day, ladies.

An injunction it is. I'll
be back as quickly as I can.

If our supporters can't vote,

then no one should.

What do you have in mind, Julia?

(clicking)

(gas hissing)

Oh, William...

(echoing): Murdoch.

Murdoch!

Hey!

Terrence Meyers!

What are you doing here, Meyers?

The much more compelling question is

what are you doing here, Murdoch?

I'm investigating the death
of one Plantagenet McCarthy.

- Plantagenet McCarthy is dead?
- Yes.

We found his body this morning.

This was on his person.

What kind of gas was that?

It's harmless... or so I've been told.

Why did you booby-trap
McCarthy's apartment?

Murdoch, McCarthy was a
spy... one of my operatives,

- on a very important mission.
- Of course he was.

I want to see the body.

He was strangled with a cord
about a quarter-inch in diameter.

I believe the killer used
a sisal twine dyed green.

I retrieved fibres from the wound.

You can take a look.

- Where would I find his personal effects, Doctor?
- Right over there.

Detective, if that will be all?

Yes, thank you.

What's this, Murdoch?

He was wearing a false moustache.

Huh!

A bit of spycraft.

- Hmm.
- This is an unfortunate turn of events.

I personally recruited McCarthy
out of McGill University.

Trained him myself.

Perhaps that would explain his fate.

I need you to help me find his killer.

Ah, yes.

- I imagine it's a matter of national...
- ... National security.

McCarthy's latest mission
was to flush out a German spy

operating in Toronto.

His death,

while regrettable,

proves the enemy spy is close.

Why would a German spy be in Toronto?

The Germans are extremely interested

in anyone capable of supplying
arms to Great Britain.

So your spy tasked with

monitoring international
movement of munitions

found time to vote in
our election this morning?

Spies fulfill their civic
duty as well as everyone else.

We're gonna need a list
of everyone that was

- at that polling station when McCarthy was there.
- Already done.

Excellent.

I'm glad you've taken my advice

on intelligence-gathering
seriously, Murdoch.

(crowd murmuring)

- Emily! Come here.
- Oh, how exciting!

- What are we doing exactly?
- Now see here, Dr. Ogden,

I've done my best to tolerate your crusade.

That's very considerate of you, Mr. Marter.

I think it's time for you ladies
to go back to your knitting.

Tell me, Dr. Nesbitt, what would you do
if it were your name left off the ballot?

My dear, my name could
never be left off the ballot.

I have the power of the party behind me.

You have all the power, Dr. Nesbitt.
And that is precisely the problem.

- (Julia): Bravo!
- (Emily): Well said!

Um, what are you all doing?

We're protesting.

- Why?
- This lady here,

- Margaret Haile...
- Hello.

Hello.

... is running for office,

but they left her name off the ballot.

That sounds unfair.

I'm sorry, not today.

But thank you very much, young lady.

You're exactly why all of this matters.

Germans? Connected to our victim?

Murdoch and I are just
about to match your list

of voters with the profile I
have on one Wolfgang Ketzer,

a German spy

known to be operating in Toronto.

And you believe this Ketzer
was at the polling station.

Care to share why?

Because my man, McCarthy, is dead.

Obviously killed by this conniving Hun.

You don't know that.

For all we know, Alexander
Cuddy could be our man.

He and McCarthy were
seen together at the polls

shortly before McCarthy's death.

And they were both
wearing matching red ties.

Cuddy is not our man.

- You seem very sure of that.
- I'm very certain.

Care to share why, Mr. Meyers?

Gentlemen. I am at
liberty to share with you

the information I have on Ketzer: mid-40s,

stands over six feet tall.

Beautiful day, lads.

What have you, George?

Ah, sir.

Plantagenet McCarthy.

He studied both French and
German at McGill University,

lived there in Montreal for some
time, as well as Quebec City.

Both cities with munitions factories.

Also, sir, somebody once tried
to kill him but he survived.

- Indeed?
- About 20 years ago.

It sounds like he's led quite
an adventurous life, sir.

Ah! Oh, good.

Potential suspects from the
polling station have arrived.

Thank you, George.

No...

No...

Certainly not.

No...

Perhaps...

This one.

Sir, what is your name?

John Smith.

Ah. Mr. Smith...

We've detained you to ask you

about your recent visit to
Polling Station Number Five.

Did you speak to any other voters there?

"Good morning,"

"Nice day for it," that sort of thing.

I voted and left.

(speaking in German)

(speaking in German)

"John Smith"

is not your real name, is it?

No.

It's Johannes Schmidt,

but Canadians can't pronounce
that, so I changed it.

Murdoch,

I will be taking this man into the
custody of the Canadian government.

We apparently have some catching
up to do, don't we "Schmidt"?

All right.

Mr. Schmidt,

may I see your hands?

Thank you.

Considering the weapon

and the force required to strangle someone,

I would expect to see some
marks on the killer's hands.

Any spy worth his salt would wear gloves

when executing a man.

Any spy worth his salt wouldn't
speak German and expose himself.

He exposed himself
precisely to hide himself.

Some things you have
yet to learn, Inspector.

That poor bugger's
neither a killer nor a spy.

I agree.

So let's find the real one.

I hope you weren't
expecting something fancier.

I think it's perfect.

Nothing could be more perfect
than this moment right now.

And on a Detective's salary,

- I'll be able to afford fancier places.
- Mm, fancier hot dogs.

Oh, the fanciest hot dogs.

But I could afford to buy a house.

I could afford to get married.

Is that meant to be a proposal, George?

Well, it wouldn't be...

I was just kidding. I didn't...

I didn't mean you'd actually...

George?

Edna...

Will you do me the honour
of becoming my wife?

Yes.

Yes, I will.

Gentlemen, it is your right to vote!

Do not let those who
do not share that right

deprive you of yours.

Sir, you will not pass.

This is exactly the farcical nonsense

that we would expect
from women in politics!

If our legitimate voters can't be counted,

the results of this entire
riding will be invalid.

- Our point precisely.
- We are as eager to find

a solution as you are. In
the meantime, if you continue

to incite this crowd,

the consequences will be on your hands.

- Move aside!
- Stand back, sir.

I want my vote.

Didn't I see you here this
morning? You've already voted!

Constable! This man is
attempting to vote illegally.

Well done, Emily.

Red tie.

Constable, take this man to
Detective Murdoch immediately.

Alexander Cuddy,

Matin Rapovski

and Roger Gaskin.

Which of these is your real name?

Alexander Cuddy.

Alexander Cuddy. Well, then, Mr. Cuddy,

you are a plugger.

You assume the identities of
legitimate registered voters,

you cast their vote for the
candidate of your choosing.

You will be charged with fraud,

and that may not be the extent of it.

What do you mean?

Where and when did you last
see Plantagenet McCarthy?

Who?

Your friend, Plantagenet McCarthy.

Oh, right. We went to the polls together,

then we went our separate
ways. You caught him, too?

Mr. McCarthy

was found dead this morning,

right around the corner
from the polling station.

That's terrible!

Did you have any reason to argue

- with Mr. McCarthy yourself?
- No, no, We were friends.

Who would want to kill Burt?

Burt?

Burt Larsen.

Bloody Meyers! He lied to us again.

We should have expected as much.

So the victim, this Burt Larsen,

was a plugger who used
a spy's name by mistake

and got "plugged" for
it. Bit unfortunate, that.

Sir, he was strangled, not shot.

Yes, Murdoch. I know. It was a joke.

One suit in the wardrobe.

One shirt.

Seems like a typical bachelor's flat.

What exactly are we looking for?

Some sort of clue as to the
real Plantagenet McCarthy.

Why don't we just ask Meyers?

Oh, right.

A pipe that's never been used.

No bed sheets.

Sir...

Meyers has sent us on a fool's errand.

Are you saying what I think you're saying?

Plantagenet McCarthy doesn't exist.

Stop the vote!

Stop the vote!

I have an injunction
from Judge Gerald Ramsey.

The vote is to be halted until
new ballots are available,

and these ballots must
contain all candidates,

specifically Miss Margaret Haile.

Well done, Clara. Thank you.

This polling station is closed,

pending the arrival of
the corrected ballots

in approximately...

... six hours from now.

Now, now, gentlemen. Please,

stay a moment longer. I'm
certain we can reach some sort of

arrangement.

Six hours?

It is no small undertaking to print
the number of ballots required.

- In six hours the election will be all but over.
- Well,

ladies, you have succeeded at your goal.

You will have a clean vote,

at the expense of any vote at all.

You knew the body in the morgue
was not Plantagenet McCarthy.

I spent my entire morning
chasing shadows at your behest.

- I demand an explanation, Mr. Meyers.
- Well,

I never did say McCarthy
was real, I just...

neglected to tell you he wasn't.

All right, look.

It was a simple means to an end.

The German spy is real. McCarthy
was created to flush him out.

- Clearly it worked.
- Were you not the least bit

curious as to who had adopted
your fake spy's persona?

I was, until I saw the body.

The red tie explained everything.

You knew right away that he was a plugger.

Why not tell me so that instant?

Because you would have wasted
your time investigating him.

"Him" has a name: Burt Larsen.

And you're right, Mr. Meyers.
I would have investigated him,

which is what I intend to do now.

You're nothing if not predictable, Murdoch.

Look, take my word for it...

You'll forgive me if I don't.

Whoever killed your victim
was in the polling station

and heard him say the name "McCarthy".

This murder has nothing
to do with Burt Larsen

the plugger and everything to do
with Plantagenet McCarthy the spy.

And I have the killer in custody.

- You mean Schmidt?
- I mean Schmidt.

And I suppose you have
some proof of his guilt?

The interrogation is far from over.

Thank you, anyway. I do
appreciate your support.

That's three more voters we've lost.

Their shift is starting and
they won't be able to return.

Keeping the polls closed is skewing the
results as much as if we stayed open.

But a fair election won't
be possible as long as

Margaret's name is absent from the ballot.

Why don't we write it in?

On every ballot until the new ones arrive.

Of course!

The injunction only stated that the
candidates' names be on the ballot...

it didn't specify how
they come to be there.

Surely Mr. Snipe can have no objection.

So, who among us has the best penmanship?

George, how are you coming along

- on Burt Larsen's background?
- Uh, sir,

I've found nothing too out of the ordinary.

He was a hard-working man, unmarried,

who spent most of his evenings
at the pub talking politics.

By most accounts he was well-liked.

And he was the leader of
this group of pluggers, then?

No, sir. He was recruited

by a man named

Duncan Hogan.

- Bring him in.
- Uh, already done, sir.

Hmm.

You know, soon you'll be asking
a Constable to do the same.

My men were doing Toronto and
the province a great service.

Marter has to win.

I tried to tell him how we
could help him, but he wished to

run an honest campaign.

And you disagree?

There are always pluggers.

If we didn't do it for Marter,
Nesbitt would have an unfair advantage.

Mr. Hogan, you are to be charged with fraud

and you're going to be banned from
voting for the next seven years.

I'm prepared to sacrifice
myself for the greater good.

That's very noble,

but I'm not interested in rhetoric.

I'm interested in Burt Larsen.

Of course.

Poor man.

Do you know of anyone who may
have harboured ill will toward him?

He was well-liked in general,

though he did rub the
Conservative party the wrong way

after Marter left them...

especially Dr. Nesbitt.

The Conservative candidate?

Larsen wrote him letters,

hoping to persuade him
to drop out of the race.

What was Dr. Nesbitt's response?

Nesbitt threatened to kill him.

Julia, this gentleman
heard me speak earlier

and was moved to give us his vote.

If we've changed even one man's
mind, then we've already won.

There you are, fine sir.

A mere five minutes and
we'll get you back to the pub.

- Mr. Nesbitt, a word?
- Detective.

Surely those suffragettes

have not lodged yet another complaint?

No... I wonder,

do you know a Burt Larsen?

What has that man said about me now?

He was murdered this morning.

Just a few feet from here.

The dead man was Mr. Larsen?

Hmm!

Well,

that will put a stop to the letters.

That's a rather callous response.

He sent me a letter every single day

haranguing me to drop out of the race!

- Ridiculous!
- You felt threatened?

Goodness, no! I felt annoyed.

Were you aware that Mr. Larsen
was part of a plugging scheme

to benefit your opponent, Mr. Marter?

It wouldn't surprise me.

- You were also heard to have threatened him.
- Detective,

you can't believe that I would kill someone

- over a handful of votes.
- A handful of votes could make all of the difference.

As I understand it, this is one of the most

hotly-contested races in the province.

Oh, I fancy I will
squeak through just fine.

Hmm.

Nevertheless, where were you this morning

- between 8:00 and 8:30?
- I was here, of course.

Surrounded by my campaign supporters.

Ask your wife, Detective.

I was speaking with her.

Thank the Lord! The reprinted
ballots have arrived.

- I'm not sorry that's done!
- Nor me!

I haven't written that much since school.

Mr. Snipe wishes to thank
you for your service, ladies.

You may now leave the building.

Not until we are assured
that all the ballots

are correct and inclusive
of every candidate.

Mr. Snipe, stop!

What on earth is the matter now?

Mr. Snipe, was this same twine

- used on the original ballots?
- Yes.

It's specific to official ballots,

to ensure that no illegal
substitutions can be made.

Right. Who here had access to that twine?

I suppose anyone who
came inside. Mr. Lowrie,

where did you put the discarded
twine from this morning?

In the waste basket, of course.

Mr. Trimble?

It's not here.

Then the killer must have been
inside this polling station.

Right, which would mean Mr.
Meyers was right after all.

Well, Mr. Meyers,

it appears that you were right after all.

And I imagine that Mr.
Schmidt has confessed by now.

Schmidt is, unfortunately,
just an ordinary citizen.

The murder was committed
by a German, just not

that German.

If this is indeed the work of a spy,

we need information.

Everything you know.

And do not say the words

"national security."

We intercepted a message some time ago.

Our top men broke the complex cypher,

and we determined that the
coded address was 8 Beech Street,

obviously Wolfgang Ketzer's lair.

When we arrived we found
nothing but a Chinese laundry.

Clever ducks.

May I see this message?

Gentlemen, I must warn you both,

you place yourself in
great peril by pursuing

this canny and unpredictable man.

Mr. Meyers, your top men

may have been looking for
a cypher that wasn't there.

How so?

(Brackenreid): 52 Selby. Plain as day.

Huh! (Chuckling)

We would never have considered
something so simplistic.

(thumping desk) That's fantastic!

Come along, Murdoch.

Ha!

(men laughing and chatting)

Follow my lead, Murdoch.

It's my game you're playing in now.

Huh!

I must stop underestimating these Germans.

And now we wait.

Empty, save for a pair of shoes.

No bed sheet.

And a pipe that hasn't been smoked.

Have a seat, Murdoch.

- He'll be along presently.
- No.

No, I don't believe he will.

You see, much like your
Plantagenet McCarthy,

this Wolfgang Ketzer
does not, in fact, exist.

(chuckling)

Impossible!

Oh, this is too much. Of
course he doesn't exist!

I should have known.

(laughing)

(trains rattling)

So Burt Larsen was
killed for being Burt Larsen,

seeing as Plantagenet McCarthy was
never anything more than a figment

of Mr. Meyers' vivid imagination.

With a name like that, we
should have known all along.

Well, you flatter me, Inspector.

Even I couldn't come up with such a name.

Mr. Meyers, do you mean
to say that you based

your fake spy on a real person?

Of course.

Well, it's standard procedure.

We take a dead man, in this case McCarthy,

we remove his death
certificate from the record, and

voil�.

Did this not strike you at any point

as pertinent information?

Of course not.

The original McCarthy is wholly
irrelevant to the capture of a German spy.

But completely relevant to the
murder of a man assuming his name.

Yeah. Well...

The nation thanks you for your service.

As much as it

pains me to say this, Mr. Meyers,

we now need you.

Well,

Murdoch, if it were anyone else...

But how can I say no to you, hmm?

(patting his leg)

- Dr. Nesbitt.
- I concur.

Mr. Marter.

I concur.

Miss Margaret Haile.

I concur.

That concludes the extent of the ballots.

Was the count conducted
to your satisfaction?

It was.

- It was.
- It was.

Well, gentlemen,

I wish you both the best of luck.

Whomever wins, you can say you
did so with the utmost fairness.

As trying as this day has been,
I will grant you ladies that.

A fair election was always our intention.

And I, too, am not above
acknowledging your efforts,

- as much as I abhor the theatrics.
- We will take that as a compliment.

This seal will not be broken
until the ballots arrive at

the central elections office to be counted.

Thank you candidates and
scrutineers for your attention.

Well that's that then.

Congratulations, ladies. We survived.

Oh, we did more than survive. We triumphed.

Let's go drink champagne. My treat.

- I won't say no to that.
- (All laughing)

Plantagenet McCarthy.

These are the details we
know of his life so far,

though I suspect most
of it is less than true?

Ah, well, let's see.

McGill University, that's
all me, as is Quebec City.

I certainly made his
life much more exciting.

I doubt the real man ever left Ontario.

When did he die?

1893, '94, thereabouts.

Natural causes.

And what about this
attempt on McCarthy's life?

What was the circumstance?

"Assailant attacks McCarthy

outside of a Mimico
church wielding a knife."

Not my doing.

Mimico?

It's far too pedestrian.

It stands to reason that if
someone wanted McCarthy dead

21 years ago, he likely still would.

Yes sir, but if that man was
in the polling station today,

surely he would have seen
that Burt Larsen wasn't

the Plantagenet McCarthy he once attacked.

It was 21 one years ago.

Larsen's about the right age

and he was wearing a false
moustache and using McCarthy's name.

Is there a description of
McCarthy's assailant in that file?

Well, I admit

I'm intrigued.

Witnesses describe a man in his 30s.

Then he's in his 50s now.

Who on our list of suspects
from the polling station

fits that age?

Only one.

Vernon Snipe.

Excellent!

Let's have a conversation
with Mr. Snipe, shall we?

Oh, I believe we can handle
it from here, Mr. Meyers.

After all,

it's no longer a matter
of national security.

Uh, gentlemen. I'm afraid the
polls have long since closed.

Vernon Snipe, you are to
accompany us to the Station House.

- Now?
- Yes, now.

You're a suspect in a murder investigation.

Gentlemen, please, I have a responsibility

to deliver these ballots
to the elections office.

Uh, I can do that for you, Mr. Snipe.

You heard the gentleman. Hand
over the box and let's go.

(grunting)

Mr. Lowrie...

your gloves.

- What about them?
- Where were you between 8:00 and 8:30 this morning?

I was inside, of course.

Mr. Snipe?

I was outside for the first
half hour, monitoring the line.

Mr. Trimble?

You left me alone

for 10 whole minutes right
at the start of the day.

You didn't even apologize.

Don't even think about it, Mr. Lowrie.

You're under arrest for murder.

Plantagenet McCarthy

rented out the back
room of my father's shop

in Mimico to run a bookmaking business.

My father was sent to
prison for five years,

punished for McCarthy's
crimes. We lost the shop.

(voice breaking): My
family was disgraced...

Your father attacked McCarthy in 1881.

Yes.

My father

died soon after.

You know, they said it was

some illness he caught in prison,

but I swear he died of shame.

You were just a child.

So when a man roughly the right age

presented himself as Plantagenet
McCarthy at the polling station,

you assumed him to be the
man who ruined your father.

Who else would have that wretched name?

So you grabbed the twine,

followed him outside

and you killed him.

Just as I'd imagined
doing many times before.

Mr. Lowrie...

Plantagenet McCarthy
died several years ago.

The man you assumed to be him

was a plugger named Burt Larsen.

He was innocent,

much like your father.

So it was the clerk all along.

Never would have guessed it.

You're welcome, of course.

If I hadn't made up a spy, you
would never have found your killer.

If you hadn't made up the spy, Mr. Meyers,

- there would have been no killer.
- Oh, such a wet blanket.

If you'll excuse me, I'm to meet my wife.

Of course!

In all of this excitement,

I forgot to congratulate
you on your marriage.

- Thank you. We're very happy.
- Mm-hmm.

Quite a pistol, that Dr. Ogden, hmm?

Election agitating and all...

Puts me in mind of a noble salmon,

swimming upstream against the current, hmm?

- Do you fish, Murdoch?
- No.

Hmm.

Well, that's a shame.

So you're marrying a copper, then?

I guess I'll have to
be on my best behaviour.

As you should be, copper or no.

We'll get a house with a garden,

maybe a brother or sister for you.

We'll be a proper family.

No sister, OK?

A brother would be
alright, though, no sister.

Well, cross that bridge when we come
to it. Do you want some tea, George?

- Please.
- And uh, if you're

not going to finish your cake,

can I...

Father?

- Hello, son.
- Hi!

(both laughing)

I thought you were dead.
They said you were...

... killed. They were
wrong then, weren't they?

Go take my bag into the
bedroom. There's a good lad.

Edna...

You look exactly as I left you.

A policeman!

Has there been some trouble?

- No. Not that I...
- This is

Constable Crabtree.

He's been a great help to us.

Sergeant Archibald Brooks.

Thank you, Constable.

I think I can manage from here on in.

Yes, of course.

Here it is.

North Toronto.

The seat goes to Dr. Nesbitt
and the Conservatives.

But it was close.

The plurality over
Marter was only 232 votes.

Who cares who won? How did Margaret do?

Miss Margaret Haile:

- 79 votes.
- 79!

Oh, that's a great many
more than we anticipated.

That's tremendous!

I'm so proud... of all of us.

Let's take a photograph with the newspaper.

Um, excuse me, Miss Haile, may
I please have your autograph?

Oh, how lovely of you to ask!

You do know, young lady, that
I didn't win the election?

I know.

One day I'd like to
run in an election, too.

Well, you never know,
one day you may just win.

To whom should I address this?

My name is Agnes. Agnes Macphail.

Would you mind?

- Thank you.
- Ready?

Here, hold the newspaper.

Agnes, why don't you hold it?

Smile everyone. To our future!

Thank you for meeting me, George.

How's Simon?

He's happy...

His father's back.

How are you?

- They told me he was dead, George.
- Edna...

I mean, one minute

I'm to be Mrs. George
Crabtree, and the next minute

I'm back to being Mrs. Archibald Brooks.

I... I don't know what to do, George...

The only thing you can do, Edna.

Your husband has come back to you.

Simon's father has returned to him.

Your family's whole again.

- George...
- Edna, go back to your life and be happy.

I want you to be happy.

Goodbye, George.

(Edna crying quietly)

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