Original subtitles

There's been a terrible mistake.

I must speak to Inspector Wellington immediately.

Misunderstandings seem to follow you wherever you go.

Help! One minute he was in there,

and the next minute he was gone.

So close to cracking the case...

Leave it to me, please.

Could anyone be more infuriating?

What do you think?

I think he's dead.

So, what's your next move?

That damned woman!

Hold your board higher, please.

There's been a terrible mistake.

I must insist on speaking

to Inspector Wellington immediately.

I can explain.

It's just a misunderstanding.

Misunderstandings seem to follow you wherever you go.

Fine.

I never should have requested the assistance of my friends,

but it was a particularly complex case.

Mr. Potts is your friend now, is he?

Not exactly.

He was calling on Ivy when the police showed up

accusing me of all manner of wrong doing.

Public disorder.

Solomon pretended to be intoxicated.

Identity fraud.

I gave Ivy that cover in good faith.

How was I to know that my old head mistress was still alive?

Theft!

Clementine is a law unto herself.

I never told her to pickpocket a government minister.

Please do not tell me any more.

William... thank you for ensuring

no charges will be brought, I will give you no more trouble.

Oh, how I would love to believe that.

Sign your release form.

Barnabus is in a terrible state.

He was signing his release forms with shaking hands, Lizzie!

Never has he been so humiliated.

I said I was sorry.

I wouldn't be surprised

if he never sets foot in our house again!

If only.

This is all Moses' fault.

If he'd been on hand,

I wouldn't have had to look elsewhere for help.

Where is Moses anyway?

Hit him!

Uppercut, uppercut!

Go on!

Pay up, pay up!

I believe I have some winnings?

Police, nobody move!

Do I need remind you

that gambling without a license is illegal?

Get 'em in the wagon, lads.

I didn't do nothing, guvnor.

I'm a fair man, so I'll give you two choices.

Arrest or you give me some information.

I need to track down a certain suspect who's gone to ground.

I'll tell you who, but it's a highly confidential case,

so you must keep it to yourself.

Is it Logan Cooper?

How do you know that?

He's wanted in connection with an armed robbery

at the Winchester Bank.

You have two witnesses, a Mr. Hall and a Mr. Myman.

You've launched a man hunt for Cooper,

but the only information you have is that he was last seen

in the Charing Cross area on Tuesday night.

That's classified information... Who's your snitch?

It was no snitch.

Thanks to your rag of a paper, my prime suspect

now knows that we are looking for him.

And my two key witnesses, both of which you've named,

have now got a sudden case of amnesia.

Hm. This isn't the first time

that you have interfered with one of my investigations.

Who gave you the tip off?

What kind of a world would we live in, Inspector,

if a chief correspondent

revealed his source?

The kind where you find yourself beaten to a pulp if you don't.

Which police officer gave you this information?

It wasn't just one.

Tipping off the press stops... now.

I don't care how much they're paying.

Nor do I care how many free pints,

free dinners or free women they dangle in front of you.

You do not speak to anyone outside of this department

about ongoing investigations.

But it's always been the way, skipper, how else do we

supplement the old wages?

I've turned a blind eye till now.

No more speaking to journalists!

Sir? My friend

Mr. Lawrence is an opera critic for "The Sunday Times,"

and we are due to see Gilbert and Sullivan's "Iolanthe"

this very eve.

Am I to understand that I should not attend?

Oh my dear Mr. Lawrence, however will you cope without me?

I wasn't talking to you, Charlie.

Oh, well, maybe you shouldn't talk at all, you bloody idiot.

Pack it in, the pair of you!

Get back to work.

Hya!

Goodness knows what Barnabus must think.

Such a fine, upstanding man spending the night in a cell.

It is not right.

I've learned a valuable lesson, Ivy.

Tackling such an extensive case was naive of me.

Well, I will sleep better

knowing you've curbed your ambitions.

I'm not going to curb anything.

I'm going to expand.

If I am to employ skilled personnel,

I need to be properly resourced.

In short, I need more money.

Where you going?

The bank to ask for a loan.

And I will not take no for an answer.

No.

Absolutely not.

Out of the question, I'm afraid.

I just wanted to check if we are still to dine this evening?

This evening?

The last Wednesday of each month we dine,

and the last Wednesday of each month,

I have to remind you.

Would you mind if we rearranged?

Yes, fine, we can rearrange.

Again.

Again?

Yeah, you did this last month.

Oh, yes, I'm sorry.

I'm just having a particularly vexing day.

My prime suspect in an armed robbery has done a runner.

So your day cannot be any worse than mine.

Not that it's a competition.

Then why are you making it so?

I apologize, it's not your fault.

It's his, that damn journalist

Sinclaire has leaked confidential information.

Hence my missing man.

Can't you get him to remove the story for the later edition?

Damage is already done.

Two hundred thousand souls will have read it by now.

Amongst them my prime suspect.

Two hundred thousand? Sadly, yes.

There seems to be an insatiable appetite for the gutter press.

Perhaps Mr. Potts is right,

the country is going to hell in a handcart.

Two hundred thousand...

Mr. Sinclaire!

Your office said I would find you here.

I would like to place an advert in your newspaper.

As usual, I am run off my feet,

but you can never have too many clients.

I have a better idea, Miss Scarlet.

Something far superior

to a mere... advert.

Shall we?

You want to hire me and run an article on the investigation?

You may wish to call it an article,

I would much rather a five-part serialized adventure

featuring the Lady Detective.

I can think of no better advert for your services.

See, my readership are bored of stories of the police,

so dull, so predictable... but you?

That is an altogether more

alluring prospect.

So, what is this case?

Last night one of my illustrators attended a show

at the Flanders Theatre, just off Lulworth Lane.

The proprietor had commissioned an advert

and said illustrator was there sketching

the various acts.

When it was the turn

of the in-house magician...

Alfonso the Great Italian Illusionist.

It began as a rather generic magic act,

but then...

something extraordinary happened.

So last night,

the Great Alfonso did his vanishing act,

but actually did vanish?

Disappeared into thin air.

From that very box.

Miss...?

Ling.

Talk me through exactly what happened, Miss Ling.

Every detail.

Well, I've been Alfonso's assistant for many years

and we do the same act every night.

And last night was no different.

As usual, we walked onto the stage

and performed our act to music.

Then it came to the vanishing trick

and Alfonso climbed into the box.

But this time he didn't reappear.

The box was empty.

Tell me about the trick.

We do all the usual setup business.

The girl...

the box...

the sense of expectation.

Then Alfonso gets inside.

I push in the plunger,

he waved the handkerchief to show he's still in there.

I keep pushing

until he disappears.

I show that he's gone.

And the box is empty.

Then I pull the plunger back out,

and Alfonso reappears.

But like I said,

last night he didn't reappear.

There must be a rational explanation.

Show me how he initially disappears.

It's a side compartment.

It's cushioned, with enough depth to allow Alfonso

to lean back and escape the plunger.

There's also a secret compartment

for his legs.

Hm, that's very clever.

But it doesn't explain why he didn't reappear.

And you're absolutely certain he didn't sneak out of the box?

I'm sure.

I mean, one minute he was in there,

and the next minute he was gone.

Where was the last place Alfonso would have been

before coming on stage last night?

Budalo!

Watch where you are going!

Excuse me? Yeah?

I think I took a wrong turn.

I'm looking for Alfonso's dressing room?

Oh typical, it's all about Alfonso today.

I have no time for this... odlazi! Pardon?

Bugger off!

Excuse me.

I was looking for the dressing room of the magician?

Which one?

My father or the other magician?

Alfonso, the missing one.

Missing?

Alfonso would love that.

He's full of fun, loves playing tricks

on people.

Ah, you think this a publicity stunt?

I fear you may be right.

I've been hired to find him, I'm a private investigator.

You're what?

Sorry, do people say that a lot?

Let's just say it's a source of consternation for some.

My father has convinced himself

that everyone wishes to know the tricks of his trade.

I built him this chest to keep him happy.

Magicians are as paranoid as they are competitive.

Hmm.

Your father's the other magician?

Slaven the Sorcerer.

Milena, you are late for rehearsal!

Papa, this is Miss Scarlet.

She's a private investigator.

She's a what?

Alfonso's dressing room? Third door down.

This whole thing is ridiculous.

Miss Scarlet?

Apologies I was not here to greet you.

I am the theatre owner, Mr. Flanders.

I come from a meeting with your client, Mr. Sinclaire.

He informs me you are the best in the business.

A lady detective... how extraordinary.

Mm.

So, how goes your investigation?

Well, ah,

I'm afraid I can find no rational explanation

for your magician's disappearance.

Well, that's because the cause of Alfonso's vanishing

is one of a supernatural nature.

Supernatural?

It is the work of the Flanders Phantom.

A malevolent force that many have seen

over the years in the theatre.

As I told Mr. Sinclaire not half an hour ago,

there is a ghostly apparition

behind the missing magician.

That is quite a headline, Mr. Flanders.

It even rhymes.

Does it?

I hadn't really given it much thought.

I believe I am done here.

Who was that?

What's it gotta do with you?

I was only asking.

Well, don't.

If you must know, it's Detective Lenahan from Bow Street.

He's assisting in the Cooper case.

Come on, cough up.

I'm dying of thirst here.

It's your round.

But I've not finished my drink yet.

Tough... I ain't got money to buy myself another,

thanks to the skipper

and this ban on the press.

Inspector Wellington clearly thinks

it's the right thing to do.

Well, it's hitting me and the lads in our pockets.

We're not all born with a silver spoon

in our gob.

Now get yourself to the bar.

And as your senior officer, that's a direct order.

A body's been pulled from the river.

Right by Charing Cross Bridge.

Looks like our manhunt for Cooper might be over, lads.

That ain't Logan Cooper.

Who is he then?

Mr. Sinclaire?

I do apologize for the interruption Miss Scarlet,

but I am most eager to parley with you.

And I you, Mr. Sinclaire.

I'm sure you're aware this missing magician

is nothing more than a publicity stunt.

Oh.

He is no longer missing... He is dead.

Plucked from the bowels of the Thames

this very darkest of nights.

It seems your serialized case

has become a murder investigation.

And with it, promotion to the front page.

No one in or out without my say so, is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Good morning, Miss Scarlet!

Detective Fitzroy. Um,

access to the theatre

is by Inspector Wellington's authority only.

I cannot let you in, I'm afraid.

Oh, but I'm running an investigation here,

and Inspector Wellington is fully supportive of that.

Am I indeed?

Inspector Wellington.

It would be most helpful if you would grant me

with access to the theatre. No.

I am in the middle of a case.

So I've heard.

Hired by that weasel Sinclaire.

William, we can help each other.

I have prior knowledge of this case.

Do not "William" me.

This is a murder investigation, and that rag of a paper

will not hamper me again.

Mr. Sinclaire has assured me that not one word

will be printed until the case is closed.

And I don't believe one word

that comes out of that toad's mouth.

You know, Henry wouldn't have worked

with a crook like Sinclaire.

Well, perhaps my father had more options open to him.

And furthermore he'd be most upset to know

that you'd belittle me by saying such a thing.

What?

I was just trying to work out if you're genuinely offended,

or if this is just one of your ploys

to make me feel guilty.

What a low opinion you have of me.

Good, that clears that up, you always say that

when you're trying to manipulate me... you're not coming in.

Then I have no choice

but to run my own investigation.

As you wish.

But as long as that newspaper is your client, stay out of mine.

Come along.

This is the poster from the theatre.

And this is the sketch from the illustrator,

done the night Alfonso disappeared.

And?

Well, in the sketch,

the magician holds a plain black wand.

But in the poster he has an ornate silver one.

Oh, that's because the magician didn't use a wand

the night the illustrator did the sketch.

But people do love to see a magician with a wand,

so I asked him to add one in.

I hope I'm not disturbing you?

I... I was just checking

on Miss Ling.

Dreadful news about Alfonso.

Poor girl's distraught.

What are you doing here?

Did you follow me?

I just need a moment of your time.

Alfonso's death is now a murder investigation.

It is not a matter for tabloid consumption.

It is a matter for the police.

I can assure you, Mr. Flanders,

that Mr. Sinclaire is still very much invested in your case.

As am I.

His newspaper should be reporting

only one thing about my theatre,

that we are still open for business.

Seven days a week, two matinees at the weekend.

I understand you don't want publicity,

relating to the death, but I still have questions.

And I am afraid that neither Miss Ling

nor any of my staff will be answering them.

I see.

Well, in that case I'm sure the readership

of the "Illustrated Police News"

would love a personal story instead.

Perhaps something about you, Mr. Flanders?

You're married with children, are you not?

Very well.

Do not be late back.

Yes, Mr. Flanders.

I merely have one question, Miss Ling.

Alfonso didn't use his wand during the last performance.

Was that unusual?

Very.

But the day before he told me he was selling it.

I was surprised since

it had such great sentimental value to him.

But it was worth a lot of money,

and I assumed he needed it for his retirement.

His retirement?

Next month was his 50th anniversary in the business.

That's when he planned to give the act up.

Do you know who Alfonso sold his wand to?

The entertainment shop in Carnaby Street.

I've already told the inspector this.

The inspector?

Good afternoon, sir.

Mr. Baggott at your service.

Good afternoon.

I was hoping to speak to the owner, Mr. Faversham.

Of course, sir.

But I must warn you...

he does like to chat.

It's just my little joke.

It is not, of course, a real skull

or, indeed, Mr. Faversham.

Although the dear old fellow did pass away ten years back.

I've been the owner ever since, and I decided

to keep the name.

How can I help you this fine day?

You can stop doing that for a start.

Of course, sir.

I'm Inspector Wellington from Scotland Yard.

I'm here to ask you some questions

about a magician... Alfonso?

The Great Italian Illusionist?

Oh, what has he done now?

He's always up to mischief that one,

playing tricks.

You know, I remember

this one time...

it is rather funny,

he said that he could get me

a rabbit for my act.

But when I opened the bag... He's dead,

Mr. Baggott.

Excuse me one moment.

Thank you.

I told you to stay out of my investigation.

It's not just your investigation.

I'm not having this conversation again.

Fine, go back in and question him then.

I will merely wait my turn and do the same.

What sense is that?

If one word of this is printed before the case is closed...

It will not be, I swear it.

So, Alfonso was a regular customer?

How I did enjoy his visits.

And he sold you his wand, is that correct?

He was supposed to.

I sell new as well as used props.

Although I would hardly call his wand a prop.

The magic act has been in his family for five generations,

father to son, and each one is given an exquisite silver wand.

He was the fifth Alfonso the Great Italian Illusionist.

Though nothing Italian about them, of course.

They were from Kilburn.

So he took over from his father?

Yes.

When his father retired,

Alfonso, being on the small side,

actually had his shoes built up so that he was the same height,

so that nobody could tell

when one Alfonso took over from the next.

You say that he was planning to sell you the wand?

He was due to come into the shop at 7:00

before going on stage yesterday.

Alfonso really was the most punctual of gentlemen, so...

it really was out of the ordinary

when he never turned up.

So Alfonso didn't use his wand in his act,

even though he was yet to sell it.

Nor did he turn up for his appointment

two hours before he was due on stage.

When you examined the body, were there any additional clues?

Nothing of note.

Perhaps I could see the autopsy report?

Eliza, I allowed you to sit in on the questioning,

but that's as far as it goes.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

You're in rather a hurry.

I have other cases to attend to.

You just sniffed, and we both know what that means.

That I have a cold?

That you're lying.

Is there something you're not telling me?

Good day, Eliza.

Apology would've been nice.

There's no manners these days.

A hairline fracture

at the side of the skull.

But cause of death, drowning.

Time of death says it could be

anything between 6:00 and midnight.

His act finished at 10:00,

which gives a two-hour window for when he died.

Anything else?

Signs of liver damage.

Could be a drinker.

These are his possessions.

Just the clothes he was found in.

Could be the police have taken anything of importance.

What's with the heels?

He was on the short side.

According to the owner of the entertainment shop,

he had them built up

so he was the same height as his father.

What's that?

The Thames.

Are you are sure about this?

I'm always sure.

That key has one purpose

and one purpose only.

To open a safe.

Where is it, then?

I can't see a damn thing.

Need more light.

Genie's lamp.

How apt for a magician.

This lamp is stuck to the table.

Looks like we found our safe.

Alfonso's wand.

Why would a magician do his act without his wand

when it was here at the theatre all the time?

The same reason he didn't turn up to his appointment

at Faversham's shop.

Whoever was on stage that night wasn't Alfonso.

It was an imposter.

Because Alfonso was already dead.

Missing wands,

hidden safes, a murderous imposter.

Delicious,

simply delicious.

Although my thoughts and prayers are obviously

with the family of the dead man.

Mm.

So, what's your next move?

Um, well, since this is a murder investigation

and I have discovered crucial evidence,

my only option is to inform the police.

Specifically Inspector Wellington.

Never was there a finer detective.

Quite.

Yes, you must speak to him right away.

Although...

Although?

Well, a murder mystery solved by

a woman working alone,

now that is a compelling narrative.

But should Inspector Wellington become involved...

not that I wish to speak ill

of such an upstanding officer, but...

Well, there is a chance he may overshadow

your part in the story.

Not intentionally, of course,

but my fear is that

he becomes the lead character,

and you become...

a mere supporting role.

But if you were to delay speaking to him,

just for a few days,

it might give you time to gather some more evidence.

Perhaps something that might prove crucial in court.

Then your part in all of this would be...

impossible to ignore.

Sinclaire is right.

What harm is another day or two

before I share my findings?

Well, you could be charged with

perverting the course of justice.

That carries a sentence of seven years in prison.

Although, for first offense with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises a tariff of three years.

I've been practicing my reading

in your father's old law books.

Right, I see.

Anyway, I've given William every opportunity

to work with me on this investigation,

but to no avail.

So if I do decide to work this case a little longer,

this is technically his own doing, isn't it?

I suspect he's made his own developments anyway.

He was very eager to leave

after questioning the owner of the entertainment shop.

Well, two can play at that game.

For God's sake, don't give him false information,

you could be charged with perjury.

Although that is only triable on indictment.

Can you read Dickens or Austen like a normal person?

I need this publicity, Ivy,

and I know I'm so close to cracking the case.

For the last time, I can get my own luncheon.

I know you, my girl.

You never eat proper when you're working.

And if you want my advice

on Inspector Wellington... Which I don't.

You watch what you say to him.

I don't intend

to say anything to him.

I intend to make it my business

to avoid him at all costs.

William!

Morning, ladies.

What a lovely surprise. Mm.

I was just passing.

Ivy.

Inspector Wellington.

How's your cold?

Oh, it's better, thank you.

That was quick.

Mm.

So...

Any developments on the case?

Oh, nothing of note.

You?

Nothing of note.

Well, I shall leave you ladies

to go on with your day.

That was swift visit.

As I said, I was just passing.

Goodbye, Inspector Wellington.

Mm.

Now I'm certain of it.

He is hiding something from me.

She's hiding something from me.

Did you tell her what you had found out?

No.

Nor will I with Sinclaire as her client.

Sir, would you like me to focus

my full attention on this?

With Bow Street assisting in the Cooper case,

I'm sure I could be spared.

Bow Street?

What have they got to do with Cooper?

Well, Phelps said they were part of the investigation.

I saw him meet with Detective Lenahan.

There is no Detective Lenahan at Bow Street.

It's, it's a true story, lads.

As God as my witness.

Get back to work.

Sir.

Not you, Detective Phelps.

What's up, skipper?

When I said "Do not talk to the press,"

was I unclear

in some way?

If so, I can be clearer.

Come on, Duke, it's just a bit on the side.

If it's not me, it'll be one of the other lads.

No one's happy about this.

This happens again, and you are gone.

Is that understood?

Yes, Duke.

Good.

Milena!

I'm looking for Miss Ling, do you know where she is?

Milena, is everything all right?

I don't know where Miss Ling is.

I haven't seen her.

Are you moving in here?

Not my idea, my father's.

He always wanted Alfonso's dressing room.

He couldn't even wait till after the funeral.

I'm sorry, I know how fond you were of him.

And yet you said those awful things.

What things?

I told you Alfonso was full of fun.

I never said that he was

a heavy drinker with gambling debts.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Did you like the part about

the lady detective and her inner bloodhound?

Clearly I have no such thing,

or I would've sniffed you out as an untrustworthy crook.

I beg your pardon?

You have broken our agreement

and published details that will interfere

with the investigation.

You've twisted my words, Mr. Sinclaire.

As chief correspondent,

there are certain responsibilities

on my shoulders.

It's been a dreadfully slow week.

This is a catalogue of lies.

I never said

the magician was a gambler, nor a heavy drinker.

My dear Miss Scarlet, no one wants to read about

a dead man who was kind and loved by all.

My readers devour scandal and salacious gossip.

It makes them feel better about their own lives.

Retract the article and print an apology

or I will sever our agreement.

And yet you have a man's name above your door

to lure in customers.

What?

That's not the same thing at all.

Forgive me.

Is your name Henry Scarlet?

I can assure you, one day it will be

my name above the door.

Well, until that day,

you might be wise to make useful friends

rather than powerful enemies.

Are you threatening me?

I'm merely advising you.

At present, you are unique and intriguing.

There are stories to be told and money to be made.

But who knows what novelties tomorrow will bring?

People will only pay once to see the bearded lady.

I do not need advice from a washed-up hack

who cannot get a job on a real newspaper.

We are done, sir.

Very well.

Although, rest assured...

this washed-up hack

has ruined many a reputation.

I have brought down judges, politicians,

and even an archbishop.

A female detective...

will not be a problem.

I'm sorry.

I should have shared my findings

rather than you having to read them in the newspaper.

It would have been preferable.

And you were right about Sinclaire.

I should have listened to you.

That would have been preferable, too.

How much longer are you going to be angry for?

Why, are you in a hurry?

Did you really call Sinclaire a washed-up hack?

Fine, you better tell me what else you know.

Suspects?

Well, the other magician couldn't wait

to move into Alfonso's dressing room.

There's definitely some

professional jealousy there.

And Alfonso's assistant, Miss Ling,

seems to be having an affair with the theater owner.

Perhaps he had some conflict with the dead magician.

But you have no proof?

However, one thing I am fairly certain about...

Given Alfonso's wand was in his safe,

yet he didn't use it during his last performance,

nor did he turn up

at the entertainment shop to sell his wand,

I believe an imposter was on stage that night.

Hm.

Which is clearly isn't news to you.

You suspected it too, didn't you?

I knew you were hiding something from me.

Which, of course, you would never do.

Now, I need your word that you are definitely not

working with Sinclaire anymore.

You have my word.

As we speak, he'll be writing an article

designed to make me unemployable.

Well,

I did suspect an imposter,

but I didn't know about the other wand.

The other wand?

I found it on the magician

when I examined his body.

They're identical.

On the face of it, yes.

I noticed that the handle

wasn't quite aligned.

And inside...

Was this.

The magician's father, no doubt.

The previous Alfonso.

Let's find out if they are identical.

Two wands, two boxes.

Nothing suggests where this photo was taken.

Hand me that.

I know exactly where it was taken.

Did Alfonso use

a duplicate box to disappear?

I would love to help you, but I simply cannot

tell you how the trick is done.

Or any trick, for that matter.

Us magicians, we take a solemn oath.

That is a shame, Mr. Baggott,

since perverting the course of justice

carries a seven-year sentence,

although for a first offense with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises a minimum of three.

Do I have that right, Inspector Wellington?

Indeed you do, Miss Scarlet.

Alfonso commissioned a replica box.

Designed by my good self.

It's a bespoke service that I offer to certain clients.

The original box had a hidden compartment in the side,

but the replica went even further in its trickery.

With the help of some well-hidden latches,

it actually had a false bottom in which Alfonso could

not only hide in, but lock without a soul knowing.

It's a work of art, if I may say so myself.

Alfonso planned to use the replica box

for his final performance?

He wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.

50 years in the business, I mean, that's...

quite something.

I may have designed the box,

but I cannot take the credit for making it.

His assistant must take the credit for that.

Alfonso was so delighted with what she'd done,

that he asked me to, to take a photograph

of the two boxes together.

He had a wand made for her, and he planned to

put the photograph inside and give it to her

after his final performance.

It was his parting gift.

His assistant made the box?

So Miss Ling must have been aware

of what he was doing.

I'm not talking about Miss Ling.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Baker Street Girls!

Now please

put your hands together as we welcome

our headline act.

The incredible...

The mysterious...

Slaven the Sorcerer.

Thank you,

thank you.

For my first illusion,

prepare to be astounded.

Astonished...

Milena.

Amazed.

I'm going to need you

to come with me.

What?

I'm about to go on stage.

I'm afraid you're not.

You will not believe your eyes.

What's going on?

Anything?

I grew up with Alfonso.

He and my father were on the same bill for years.

He had no children of his own,

so he taught me everything he knew about magic.

He was so kind and patient with me.

Unlike my own father.

He doesn't believe a woman could

or should be anything other than an assistant.

But Alfonso,

he said one day I could be a wonderful magician.

So he let you help him create a replica box

for his retirement show?

Not even his assistant

would know how he disappeared.

It would be his lasting legacy.

But he was dreading retirement.

He started to drink more,

became increasingly melancholic.

Not that anyone but me knew.

He was very good at putting on an act.

But knowing his time in the theater

was coming to an end was destroying him.

Magic was his life.

What happened the day he died?

The night before...

he was feeling very down.

He told me

there was no point to his life anymore.

He always arrived an hour early

before he was due on stage.

Always, without fail.

So...

the next day, when he didn't,

I just knew he was never coming back.

I feared the worst,

but I didn't know for sure

until his body was pulled from the Thames.

You believe it was suicide?

He'd talk about it sometimes,

when he was drunk.

I never knew if he meant it.

And that's why you impersonated him.

I couldn't bear him not having the sendoff he deserved.

I wanted him to go out how he intended,

performing the trick of his life.

And no one else knew?

Alfonso's act was midway through the show

when I did the disappearing trick.

Miss Ling couldn't check the box thoroughly,

as she was assisting the next act, too.

And as the stage hands took the box

and the rest of the props back to the storeroom,

I stayed hidden.

And then later you swapped the replica box

with the original.

I gutted it.

Turned it into a chest for my father.

Alfonso was the only person who believed in me.

And now he's gone.

Sir.

I spoke to the coroner.

He thinks that the head injuries

are consistent with a post-mortem blow.

Perhaps a boat or the side of a bridge

when the dead man was in the water, so...

it does look like suicide.

So what happens now?

Will Milena be charged?

Well, I can't deny that

we would have got to suicide much quicker

had she not posed as the dead man.

So she could be charged with

perverting the course of justice.

But that is at your discretion.

It is.

I can't see who it would benefit.

She seems a determined young woman.

I have no doubt that she will get where she wants to be,

I just...

I hope it doesn't consume her.

There's more to life than work.

Just look at our magician friend.

There's a valuable lesson there.

Don't be too hard on yourself, William.

Life isn't all about work.

I wasn't talking about me.

It was you, weren't it?

You grassed me up to Duke.

It wasn't my intention,

it just slipped out, it was a mistake.

The files you requested, sir.

Right.

I'm off for the night, I'll see you in the morning.

Stop right there, detective.

I will not discuss who did this, sir.

Well, in that case, I have one question for you.

How do we stop this from happening again?

There you go, son.

Good man.

See you next time.

What you want now?

I'm no snitch.

I don't want you to snitch.

I want you to teach.

Show him how to box.

Detective Fitzroy.

But please, feel free to call me Oliver, Mr. Moses.

It's just Moses.

Mr. Potts.

Miss Scarlet.

It's nice to see you again.

Yes.

The last time we met,

I was sitting in a police cell, if memory serves.

I did apologize.

Numerous times.

There are occasions when a simple apology will suffice.

This was not one of them.

Today's edition.

Sinclaire?

How bad is it?

What does he say about me?

Absolutely nothing.

It's all about Inspector Wellington.

It says all kinds of nice things about him.

How determined,

tenacious, and talented he is.

But nothing at all about you.

Ha!

Morning, James, how's the little one?

Good, sir.

Sir.

Ah, good morning.

I take it you have seen today's "Illustrated Police News"?

Not yet, no.

Well, to say Mr. Sinclaire sings your praises

would be an understatement.

I, on the other hand, am not mentioned at all.

Huh.

Thank you, William.

I assume this was your doing?

You warned him off?

I lifted the ban between my men and the press,

and that was enough to satisfy Sinclaire.

To be honest, I would've had to do it sooner or later,

or I'd have a revolt on my hands.

Excuse me.

Well...

I'm still sorry for any trouble

I may have caused by working for him.

In my determination to succeed,

I may have not thought things through.

I...

I know I can be a tad...

Impatient?

You may call it impatience, I call it eagerness.

Well, whatever its name,

it is the cause of many of my headaches.

You're a good friend indeed.

Which is why dinner is on me tonight.

I wasn't aware that we were going out.

Well, now you are.

Life can't all be about work, you know.

Ha!

Eliza Scarlet, is that you?

This is my restaurant.

She had a way of saying

the cruelest of things whilst keeping the sweetest of smiles.

Shall I have her arrested?

No! Help!

You English are supposed to be fair.

I'm from Glasgow.

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