All language subtitles for Miss.Fishers.Murder.Mysteries.S01E08.Away.with.the.Fairies.NF.WEBRip.CC.en

(sound of running water)

(bird tweets)

(clock chimes)

Seven o'clock, Ariel. Home time.

(music box plays)

- There you go.

- (bird tweets)

Ariel!

(gasps)

(chokes)

(music box plays)

(knock)

Morning, Dot.

Morning, miss.

Didn't you used to know

the editors

at the Women's Choice magazine?

What do you mean, used to?

I just heard the news

on the wireless.

Miss Lavender has died.

Oh dear.

- When?

- This morning, they said.

And all her wonderful stories.

Now we'll never know

if Hilda and the Blue Fairies

were rescued from Marvin.

Marvin who?

Marvin

the Malevolent Monitor Lizard.

HUGH: Miss Fisher!

We tried to keep

any suspicious circumstances

away from the press.

You did

a first-rate job, Constable.

I wasn't suspicious at all

until I saw you.

Hello, Jack.

Sorry, sir.

Phryne!

How appalling this all is.

I'm so sorry, I only just heard.

What happened?

If you'd both like

to vacate this office,

we might find out.

Now please.

If I could have a quick look

at her.

Not yet, Miss Charlesworth,

please.

Ladies?

Blue as a cornflower

and cold as ice, Stephen said.

It wouldn't have been her heart.

We all know she didn't have one.

Come on, everyone.

No time for the vapors.

We still have a deadline

to meet.

Do the police know how she died?

Not that they're telling me.

These are my tireless workers.

I'm sure you've all heard of the

Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher?

My former pupil,

now dear friend.

This is Mrs Helen Opie,

in charge of domestic

and cooking pages.

Miss Letitia Prout,

fashion and social calendar.

And Mr John Bell,

our concession to manhood,

who does the gardening section.

It's a pleasure

to put faces to bylines,

in spite of the circumstances.

But where's Stephen?

The one who found

poor Miss Lavender?

Stephen Opie is my husband.

He's the office caretaker.

And he's managed to fix

those damn pipes, I see.

- We have running water again.

- Only took him three days.

Perhaps you'd make the first pot

of tea, Miss Prout?

Come on, Phryne,

let's take some air.

Is there anything I can do

to help, Miss Charlesworth?

Georgina.

I can't bring myself to call

a teacher by their first name

and Miss Lavender would

never condone such a thing.

Poor Marcella.

She did love her formalities.

I was surprised when I heard

you left The Argus to start

Women's Choice.

I thought newspaper journalism

was more your style?

But how many women

read the newspapers?

If I have to run 100 new recipes

and dress patterns

for just one article

on women's health or education

that may change a life,

then I'm happy.

No wonder my father didn't stand

a chance against you.

He was wrong, I was right.

One clever, grubby little girl

gets to stay at school

and look what you end up with.

Sad truth is, though,

most of our readers

are waiting with bated breath

for the next installment

of the Blue Fairies.

Which hasn't been written?

It has but it's now off limits

in Marcella's office.

And if we don't meet

the printer's deadline

for the next edition,

I don't know how I'm going

to pay this fortnight's wages.

You know I can loan you

the money.

Don't you dare.

I couldn't accept it.

In that case, Miss Charlesworth,

may I be excused?

I'd better try

and retrieve your story.

Now tell me, Jack.

Does that new furrow

in your brow

have anything to do with kissing

me the other night?

I didn't kiss you.

I was trying to protect you.

All in the line of duty?

You were looking a gunman

in the eye

and I had to distract you.

I'm sorry if you think

I took a liberty.

Jack, you kissed me.

Let's call a spade a spade.

You kissed me back.

And I'm not here to apologize.

Then why are you here?

I need a favor

for Miss Charlesworth.

I've already asked her to wait.

I promise

I won't touch anything.

Technically brilliant but not

particularly avant-garde.

Obviously her blue period.

Blue seems to have been her

color till the bitter end.

I would have guessed

a thrombosis

if I didn't suspect

somebody had it in for her.

(music box plays)

I think that classifies

as touching something.

Would you like me

to slip on some gloves?

- No.

- Just the desk drawers.

Goodbye, Miss Fisher.

If you happen

to find that story...

It may be relevant to the case.

Hilda and the Blue Fairies

versus

Marvin the Monitor Lizard?

I'll let you know later today.

Do you have any idea who might

want to hurt Miss Lavender?

I don't think

this is just about Marcella.

There was the brick

through the door last night.

We've been harassed before.

There was a dead possum

dumped on the doorstep,

a prank phone call

and another break-in or two.

Did you report them

to the police?

Mindless vandalism, they called

it, but I wasn't convinced.

A bunch of women with opinions.

- Not everyone likes that.

- No.

It may sound fanciful

but I'm convinced

someone has it in

for the magazine.

Then I'll make it my business

to help find out who.

"50 uses around the home

for lemon juice."

"How to make the perfect

Yorkshire pudding every time."

And four whole pages

devoted to needlework.

Who on earth

wants an embroidered

lavatory seat cover anyway?

But there was a story

on women going to university

in the last edition.

And in August they had

an article on family planning.

My mother returned it

and asked for her money back.

Who's Artemis?

She solves everyone's problems.

My friend, you know Alice,

she wrote to her

and asked about whether

she and Cec should get engaged.

And what was the advice?

She said she could do

better for herself.

But it was too late by then.

And you can't do better

than Cec. Except for Hugh.

Excuse me. Detective Inspector

Robinson is here.

Hello, Jack.

Marvin the Monitor Lizard

gets his just deserts

and Hilda saves the day.

Jack!

You've ruined it for Dot now.

Oh! No, I...

- I read it for my nieces.

- Be my guest.

We found it in a box of files

we took to the station

but it's definitely

not evidence.

Not unless Miss Lavender

was poisoned

by a band of five-year-olds.

Well, I will just take it

upstairs then.

Poisoned?

The coroner seems convinced

even before the autopsy.

It was prussic acid poisoning.

Cyanide?

How was it administered?

No idea at present.

She'd been dead since early

evening the night before.

What time did she usually leave?

I noticed

she was wearing her coat.

Very good. Seven o'clock

every night on the dot.

I heard Miss Lavender

taught you at school.

What kind of woman was she?

Cold as a halibut on ice.

Are you wooing me

for information, Inspector?

BUTLER:

Miss Fisher, another visitor.

Lin!

My apologies for the intrusion.

- Detective Inspector.

- Nice to see you again, Mr Lin.

Come and join us.

I'll call for some tea.

I was just leaving.

If you could just make sure

Miss Charlesworth

receives that envelope.

Thank you.

I'm not surprised

about Miss Lavender.

The old trout made more enemies

in a month

than Genghis Khan in a lifetime.

Any chance of joining you

on police rounds?

I'd kill to come along.

JACK:

No need for that, Miss Prout.

And I'm in no doubt

of your enthusiasm.

We found this

in Miss Lavender's files.

It's only a carbon copy

but I'm sure

you've seen the original.

It's a letter of warning,

addressed to you.

Please, come in.

She found out

I was trying to moonlight.

And threatened to sack you?

She had the nerve

to tell the newspaper

that I was being dishonest.

All I did was submit some

articles which were damn good.

It was none of her business.

So you and Miss Lavender

didn't see eye to eye?

Miss Charlesworth

didn't agree with her either.

You should have heard

their rows.

Miss C's a serious journalist.

Started at The Argus.

Now that she's the boss,

I'm sure things

will change for the better.

I've missed you, silver lady.

Likewise, beautiful man.

Now tell me why you're here.

I thought you had a whole

Chinese dynasty to appease.

Ah, my engagement has been

indefinitely postponed.

What happened?

Grandmother feels Camellia

is not demure enough

to be her daughter-in-law.

She's answering her back.

I like the sound of Camellia.

And Grandmother questioned

her chastity

and she refused

a medical examination.

Never mind a woman's privacy

when a dowry's at stake.

The longer it takes

to resolve this dispute,

the more time I have with you.

True.

But not today.

HUGH: So, Mr Opie, you found

Miss Lavender dead

at six o'clock that morning?

Well, I fixed the pipes

before I went upstairs.

See, we'd been without

running water in the building

for a couple of days.

I saw the smashed window

from the outside first.

When I went upstairs

I saw that slogan on the wall.

I checked the office but

Miss Lavender's door was locked

so I used my master key.

HUGH: Right.

So what time did you leave?

I caught a cab around six.

I promised Stephen

I'd be home at 6,30.

My wife got home a bit

after seven, I think.

She shouldn't be putting in such

long hours on a job like that.

But Helen tends to lose track

of time when she's working back.

You live in Richmond.

You allowed half an hour

for a five-minute trip?

Just as well I did.

There was a traffic hold-up.

A tram became unhooked.

Miss Lavender was still there,

though.

She's always the last to leave.

Just made the rest of us

feel guilty.

So you were the last person

to see Miss Lavender alive

when you left work that evening?

Seems that way.

- Hello, Mr Bell.

- John, please.

Not Giovanni if I recognize

that continental charm?

I've lived here many years,

Miss Fisher.

I know the limits

of the local dialect.

But you don't feel hopelessly

outnumbered on the magazine?

I was raised by five sisters.

I like the company of women.

Besides, my nom de plume

is Miss Green Thumbs.

Well, Miss Green Thumbs,

perhaps you could help me.

I've met everyone on the paper

now except for Artemis.

Whose nom de plume is that?

I'm forbidden to tell you.

Really?

Really.

There's a price, I'm afraid.

Who's Artemis, your agony aunt?

Marcella Lavender.

Why hasn't anyone

told the police?

Because the staff all know

that to reveal her identity

means instant dismissal

and because the police

would want me

to hand over

all of Artemis's letters.

And to do so would be

a gross breach

of our readers' confidentiality.

Has it occurred to you that

one of those letter writers

could be disgruntled enough

to be a cold-blooded murderer?

The thought had crossed my mind

in my spare moments.

Unpublished,

those we haven't got to yet,

and never to be published.

The rest are in the magazine.

I have been meaning to go

through these myself,

check if there's anything fishy

to hand on to the police

but, frankly, getting the

next issue of our magazine out

is a matter of our survival.

Excuse me, Miss Charlesworth.

I've been thinking.

Mmm, here's trouble.

Remember those articles we

wanted to do, Migrant Melbourne,

where we interview newcomers?

Sounds more interesting than

how to make an Easter bonnet.

Much more.

Miss Lavender hated it.

But now we can go back

into her office,

I thought that I perhaps

could resurrect it

from her reject pile.

You're a shameless opportunist.

Show it to me

and I will consider it.

An enthusiastic recruit.

Not the type

to let a dead body

get in the way

of her naked ambition.

Such a pretty color.

Did you take this?

Ah, yes. That's one

of her better portraits,

if I do say so myself.

It's called a cyanotype.

Turns everything Prussian blue.

Found it, eventually, in a big

red file labeled "rejected".

Must have been

one of her favorites.

Oh, lovely.

Covered in corrections.

Half my pictures are missing.

Brilliant. Jammed again!

Where is Mr Opie

when you need him?

He does have other offices

to service, you know.

LETITIA: Mr Bell, could you?

Pretty please?

Why do you think I could fix it?

You fixed

Miss Lavender's music box.

I'll never get

this obituary done

with everything else

on my plate.

You could entrust

the Artemis letters to me?

I know someone absolutely

perfect for the job.

Phryne, would you? I don't think

I could bear to wade

through all that heartache

right now.

Oh, honestly,

this is the worst job

Miss Fisher has ever given me.

This sad soul

has lost her husband, her job,

and she has a sick kiddy

with another on the way.

This one has some

terrible medical condition

and this poor woman

has nine children

but doesn't want to deny

her husband.

Well, if those ones

are upsetting you, Dorothy,

I'll take

the never to be published.

Who knows what monsters

lie there?

So Miss Prout had a motive

because her career

was on the line.

Mrs Opie had a spare hour

of opportunity,

Mr Opie had a spare key

to the locked office.

What about Mr Bell?

He was booked

into a Spencer Street hotel

with a lady friend

for the evening.

He is a dark horse.

- What about Miss Charlesworth?

- What about her?

She and Miss Lavender had

serious creative differences.

Did you notice

the cyanotypes on the walls?

Those blue photographs

in the office?

Of course I did. Made from

a solution of ferrocyanide.

Damn! How could you know that?

Could that be

our cyanide compound

used to kill Miss Lavender?

Not sure.

Who was the photographer?

Georgina Charlesworth.

You'd find out anyway

and it doesn't mean she did it.

Hello?

Miss Fisher? Hugh!

"I know where to find you

and I'll make you pay

for what you told her."

I think something just came up,

Jack.

That's a threat

if ever I heard one.

So this was hand delivered

to the magazine?

No return address

except the sender's name,

"Desperate's Husband".

All we have to do is keep

going through the boxes

till we find Desperate's

original letter to Artemis.

What were you doing with them?

I thought,

with Miss Lavender gone,

Dot might like to be

the magazine's new Agony Aunt.

Collins, assist Miss Williams

to sort through

the rest of the letters.

Bring back anything you think

constitutes evidence.

I'll head back to Women's Choice

and go through the back copies.

If Desperate's husband

is our killer,

his wife's letter

is our only lead.

LETITIA: I'm so sorry

we misplaced your photograph.

There's been a bereavement

and everything's been in chaos.

No matter.

This picture is almost the same.

Same squadron, same airplane.

I will guard it with my life,

I promise.

Right, this is the last

of our previous editions.

Where is everyone?

Mrs Opie's gone out to buy

ingredients for a new recipe.

Mr Bell must have gone

for cigarettes as usual.

Oh,

that man really is the limit.

How's that migrant article

coming along, Letitia?

Coming along quite nicely,

Miss C.

I just have to check a fact

with one of my migrants.

I'm going to see if I can catch

him at the bottom of the stairs.

Do that.

Do you think you're the right

person to give this advice?

Maybe they need someone

with more experience.

Miss Phryne wouldn't have

suggested me

if she didn't think

I could do the job.

Besides, all these people need

is some common sense advice

and some kind words.

Alright.

What about this one, then?

"Dear Artemis,

I've been going out

with the most wonderful girl

for nearly...

six months now."

"To the pictures

and dancing

and on walks."

"I think she's kind

and I think she's funny,

and she has

a lot of common sense."

"And I think she likes me too

but how can I be sure

if she's my girl?"

Six months, you said?

And he thinks she's wonderful?

That's what it says.

Well, I...

I suspect she likes him too.

A lot, probably.

So...

So...

Common sense tells me that

she's definitely his girl.

MISS CHARLESWORTH:

Thank you, troops,

for an heroic effort today.

With a good wind behind us,

we may just make the printers.

I hope so. I only have one more

recipe to go.

- Miss Letitia Prout?

- Yes?

Yes, my Migrant Melbourne

articles

will be on your desk

at 9am sharp.

Feel free to take anything

you want, Phryne.

I'm just going to lock

Miss Lavender's office.

Of course.

I'll come back tomorrow.

- Goodnight!

- Goodnight.

MISS CHARLESWORTH:

Oh, look at that!

I do admire the girl's pluck.

But she has no sense

of order whatsoever.

Coming?

BUTLER: Mr Lin

to see you urgently, miss.

Lin, what's the matter?

What's...

Phryne Fisher,

may I present Miss Camellia Lu.

I'm honored to meet you,

Camellia.

She knows no English

but I have a problem

I need to discuss

with you privately.

Mr Butler,

perhaps you could show

Camellia through to the dining

room, offer her some tea?

Yes, miss.

Tell me all.

Grandmother wants

to send Camellia home

but the Hus have refused

to pay her passage.

So Grandmother took her revenge

on Camellia with a bamboo cane.

How awful!

Don't worry,

Camellia fought like a tiger.

But I need you to keep her safe

until I calm the waters.

Of course.

Camellia will be my guest

for as long as she needs.

(knock)

Oh, it's alright, miss.

Come in.

(speaks slowly)

If you go back to your room

Mr...Mr Butler

will bring you your things.

(speaks Mandarin)

Goodnight, Camellia.

She's had a good soak

in the bath.

Lin's gone home for the evening.

He'll call on Camellia tomorrow.

She left this downstairs.

I wonder

if that's her wedding dress.

Quite probably.

Such a shame

she won't get to wear it.

How can you tell anything?

It's all in Chinese.

I can tell it's about Communism.

Is Miss Lu a Communist?

There's clearly some connection.

She may have a much more

colorful history

than Mr Lin's family knows.

Would Mr Lin object?

His grandmother

most certainly would.

Let's keep a close eye on her.

I like to know exactly what I'm

dealing with in a house guest.

Miss Fisher.

I apologize.

I think I misunderstood.

I thought it was Mr Lin who was

joining you for supper tonight.

Never mind, Mr Butler.

Perhaps a little more light

on the situation

but I'm sure the inspector

and I will cope.

Mr Chung looks well.

We crossed paths as he departed.

I hope you like Chinese food.

Is that better?

Miss Prout

is behaving very oddly.

I'm not sure what it has to do

with Miss Lavender's death yet

but...

I think this should tell us.

JACK: O-V...

No, no, U.

O-I-N-G.

What's that?

It's the sign for pounds.

"I know what you did."

"I will expose you."

"Bring..."

Two naught naught... 200.

PHRYNE: £200.

9...pm.

In five minutes' time!

(screams)

Oh no!

I can't believe it!

Poor Letitia!

Should I notify her family?

Er, no. They've been notified.

The man Miss Prout arranged

to meet last night,

could it be the same man

I saw her with

in the office yesterday

and then later downstairs?

I can't imagine he'd return

to the scene of the crime,

assuming he murdered

Miss Lavender as well.

It's too coincidental.

He must be connected.

He gave her a photograph for

the article she was working on.

(phone rings)

Which has disappeared.

Inspector?

A Constable Collins

on my telephone for you.

Thank you.

"Since I had the new bub,

I can hardly rise from my bed."

"The children look up to me

and I feel nothing

except a hopeless failure."

"I can't help thinking they will

all be better off without me

and I should just walk out

the door."

PHRYNE: I'm sure she felt worse

after she read

what Artemis had to say.

I found her reply

after you phoned, Dot,

published two weeks later.

"Dear Desperate,

slothfulness demonstrates

weakness of character."

"Shake off your malaise with

housework and a strict routine

to serve the needs

of your husband and children

and you'll have no time

to wallow in self-pity."

HUGH:

Think the husband's our man?

If his wife left him

and he blamed the advice.

Is there an address

on that envelope?

Bring the car around, Constable.

Good work, fellow sleuth.

Go round the back way, Collins.

Be careful.

There might be children

in the house.

Hello, anyone there?

(dog barks)

- Oi!

- What's going on?

Desperate's husband, I presume?

When did it happen?

She left the children

with the neighbors,

caught a bus to Rye.

It was about a week ago.

The day it happened,

someone saw her

walking on the cliffs,

just before she...

Police said it took all day

to recover her body

and track me down.

So where were you that night?

Frankston Police Station,

mostly.

They called me in

to identify her body.

Then where did you go?

I went to that magazine building

and I threw a brick

through their window.

And I found some old paint

lying downstairs.

I just wanted them to know

what they did to her.

Did to us.

They told her to buck up.

What sort of stupid bloody women

run that place?

And last night? Where were you?

Here. I haven't left this house

since the day my wife died.

The children?

Well, welfare took them.

Said I was a risk.

I'd never hurt my kids.

They're all I got left.

His name is Robert Green

and Miss Lavender was already

dead inside her office

when he threw a brick

through the front door.

PHRYNE:

What are you looking for now?

Evidence of

Miss Charlesworth's rift

with her business partner.

Ah-ha.

Looks like

some kind of contract.

Offering Miss Lavender

a new position

to oversee the publication

of her entire body of work.

I'm sure she had all kinds

of offers.

Signed the week before she died.

Well, either way, she would have

been lost to Women's Choice

and how would murdering her

help Miss Charlesworth?

Why don't you ask her yourself,

Miss Fisher?

In the event

of either partner dying,

the other partner becomes

sole owner of Women's Choice.

I see.

The inspector's

trying to confirm

what I have already told you.

Why would Miss Charlesworth

volunteer that information

if she was guilty?

And what about Miss Prout?

She pushed her down the stairs?

Can we not discuss the case

in front of a main suspect?

- Main suspect?

- MISS CHARLESWORTH: I'll go.

No, stay,

and help me mount your defense!

Phryne, darling,

I've had two deaths in two days.

I don't think I have

the strength to mount anything.

- Oh, damn!

- Miss Charlesworth...

That is enough.

Miss Charlesworth may

have had motive and the means

but she did not kill

Miss Lavender!

- That's clean water.

- What's your point?

How could Miss Lavender have a

jar of clean water in her office

if the pipes

had been broken for days?

And weren't fixed until

the morning after she died.

I fixed the pipes at six o'clock

the night before.

Why the deception?

Because I didn't want my wife

to know

that I came back that night.

How could she not know?

She was working back.

No, she wasn't.

Miss Lavender

was the only one here,

and when I left her,

she was fine.

Where was your wife?

I'd like to know the answer to

that even more than you would.

Oh my God.

How much does he know?

Mrs Opie, it's not just

your husband you've led astray.

This is a police investigation.

I went to meet a friend.

A man.

I waited till everybody

left the office at five,

then I left shortly after.

Miss Lavender was the only one

still here.

This gentleman friend's name?

I'd rather not say.

But the hotel could confirm

that I was there.

Your adultery is your alibi,

Mrs Opie.

It was John Bell, wasn't it?

It's not grubby like you think.

We talk mainly.

About the world, and art.

All the things Stephen thinks

I shouldn't be interested in.

Have you told my husband?

That's not our job, Mrs Opie.

BUTLER: You dropped one.

She was going

through the letters.

Perhaps they read

each other's mail.

She was reading.

I thought she couldn't

understand English.

I'll eat my hat if that's true.

Mrs Opie and Mr Bell provide

each other with an alibi.

What about Mr Opie?

His first instinct was to lie.

He has no one to support

his alibi that night

and he has ample opportunity.

Just short on motive.

Maybe he wanted to sabotage

Women's Choice

by killing Miss Lavender

to get his wife to come home

and cook dinner more often.

Some men will do anything

for a hot meal.

Excuse me, Miss Fisher.

There's a Miss Williams

on the telephone for you.

Lovely, thank you, Dot.

I think it's time you

leveled with us, Camellia.

Your English is far better

than you would have us believe.

Your reading material

suggests an educated woman.

And you seem to be able to hold

your own with Granny Lin

in a way

that deeply impresses me.

You are right.

I am sorry

but it was necessary.

We only want to help you.

Please, I have lied to the Lins.

I am a widow.

My parents forbade my marriage

because my husband was a member

of the Communist party.

So we eloped to Shanghai,

where my husband was executed

along with many of his comrades.

I had no choice but to flee

and beg for my family's mercy.

My father made the necessary

arrangements

to find a new husband for me

as far away as possible.

I have brought great dishonor

on my family.

If I go home, I'm afraid

my father will kill me.

Don't worry, Camellia.

We will find a solution.

If what you've told me is true,

I could never allow her

to be sent back.

PHRYNE:

So what are your intentions?

I realize you have no obligation

now that your grandmother no

longer considers her suitable.

But of course I will see to it

that she has money

and somewhere to live.

Alone? In a strange country?

Shunned by your family,

with no family of her own?

But she's obviously made one

friend already.

Your grandmother won't find you

another bride like Camellia.

She wants a daughter-in-law

who's compliant and ignorant.

Camellia is strong.

Clever.

And you are now her advocate?

You made your choice

to follow your tradition

and marry for duty and honor.

Perhaps I was wrong,

and this broken engagement

is my last chance for love.

Come out with me tonight

to Chinatown for dancing.

Not tonight.

I have to rise earlier

than I care to.

Inspector Robinson and I

are working on a case.

Is he unable

to solve crimes alone?

Jack is strictly business.

Lin...

I care for you.

But you know

I can never commit myself

to any man.

I know.

I've turned the office

upside down

looking for that

Migrant article.

I can't find it anywhere.

No one else saw him?

They met in the middle

of the office.

He was bald and plump

with a moustache.

Well,

Mrs Opie didn't catch his name

and Mr Bell can't recall

meeting him at all.

I made some notes

when Letitia first talked about

doing an article.

Here they are.

"Barber by the Bay."

PHRYNE: The photograph

you gave Miss Prout,

it was of you in the war?

With my squadron,

Aeronautica del Regio,

taken before we were shot down,

all of us,

and the Germans

took us prisoner.

Is that what the article

was about?

No. The young lady was also

interested in the fighting.

- But the other one...

- Miss Charlesworth?

No, her name was like a flower.

Er, lilac?

- Miss Lavender?

- Lavender.

She come to see me

to ask about the war.

And about the story of the man

who was once my friend.

What man?

The man I showed her

in the photograph.

Just more pictures

of the barber shop.

Look for images with a plane

in the background.

(door bangs)

Mr Butler?

This one has uniforms.

That's him, Dot!

That's our man.

- Who?

- Giovanni Campagna.

(door slams)

That's odd.

He didn't say he was going out.

Did you hear the front door,

miss?

Check Camellia's room, Dot.

Help!

A Studebaker.

Are you sure?

Where will they take her?

Yes, I'll meet you there.

Lin.

There's a boat to China

at midnight.

I recognize the two men

at the far shed.

Camellia must be in there.

Did you come armed?

Please,

these men are my cousins.

Alright.

You create a diversion

while I slip inside.

Ready?

Help!

Those thugs!

Bastards!

Animals!

Lin's close by.

There's two of us.

Time to fight like a tiger.

(banging)

Ya!

Brilliant!

No!

Grandmother!

I know you're here.

Show yourself.

This ends now.

Camellia is to be my wife.

I will not allow this harlot

to bring shame to my family.

It's my family too

and I'm taking my role

as the head of it.

And Camellia will be by my side.

- Sorry!

- If you demand a denouement,

the least you can do

is turn up on time.

What is all this about,

Detective Inspector?

John Bell, you're under arrest

for the murders

of Miss Marcella Lavender

and Miss Letitia Prout.

- What?

- Mr Bell, do you deny it?

Well, of course I deny it!

What possible motive

could he have

for murdering Miss Lavender

and Letitia Prout?

Miss Fisher,

perhaps you'd like to begin?

The name Giovanni Campagna.

Miss Charlesworth, you have

a smattering of Italian.

How would that translate

into English?

Oh well, Giovanni is John and...

It's John Bell, isn't it?

PHRYNE: That's right.

Interesting because

Giovanni Campagna is a traitor.

He spied for the Germans

and was responsible for hundreds

of Italian pilots

being shot down in flames

over the Austrian Alps.

MISS CHARLESWORTH:

This can't be true.

You led us to believe that you

were brought here as a child.

If he hadn't fled Italy he'd

have been tried for treason

and probably shot.

These are all lies!

I can assure you, Mr Bell,

we can prove it.

The Italian Embassy

has been quite helpful.

What has this to do

with Marcella and Letitia?

Meticulous Miss Lavender

found the photograph

of John Bell in uniform

that Miss Prout missed in

her Migrant Melbourne article.

Miss Prout only noticed

the familiar face later

when her Italian barber friend

gave her a better photograph

to replace the one

that mysteriously disappeared.

Why didn't either of them

go directly to the police?

Miss Prout

attempted blackmail instead

and ended up at the bottom

of the stairwell.

But Marcella would never stoop

to such immoral behavior.

I suspect she gave him advice,

as usual,

and hoped he'd do the noble

thing and turn himself in.

She appealed

to his better nature.

But he didn't have one.

No, he was with me!

He couldn't have killed

Miss Lavender.

- I knew it!

- Oh, Stephen!

- Wait!

- Stephen!

Take it easy.

I'm sorry, Stephen.

JACK: Thank you, Collins.

Mr Campagna was a pilot.

All pilots were given

cyanide capsules

to take in case of capture.

You decided to save your

bitter pill for a rainy day.

But the problem was

how to administer it

without being connected

to the crime.

Then opportunity

presented itself

in the form of Miss Lavender's

broken music box.

Because, as he obviously knew,

cyanide mixed with an acid

gives off deadly fumes

and turns everything it touches

into a lovely shade of blue.

John, how could you?

Get out of my way!

JOHN: Take your hands off me!

Get up!

Move.

(cries)

Chin up just a fraction.

Thank you very much, Camellia.

(speaks Mandarin)

Well, Phryne, you were right.

You are perfectly lovely.

Whatever happens, people

will sit up and take notice

with the soon-to-be

Mrs Lin Chung

heading your

Migrant Melbourne article.

Mm.

And you must be Dorothy.

What a splendid Artemis

you make.

There's a check for you

waiting in my office,

and a permanent job

if you'd like to try something

more challenging

than a lady's companion?

Oh no,

I could never leave Miss Fisher.

I would understand, Dot,

if you want the opportunity

to try something different.

You're different enough for me,

miss.

But thank you.

Yes, she's certainly different.

Jack.

Good of you to come.

And what puzzle

are we solving tonight?

No puzzle.

And no candlelight.

No chopsticks either.

There won't be chopsticks at

this table for quite some time.

And how will Mr Lin

feel about that?

Mr Lin will have quite enough

to worry about

with his Communist revolutionary

fighter bride.

Really?

Pass on my congratulations.

Perhaps we could allow ourselves

just one candle.

What do you think?

I think I could cope with that.