All language subtitles for Houdini and Doyle s01e02 A Dish of Adharma.eng

This is not an act of violence!

This is an act of war!

Who we are at war?

Get out of the street, woman!

- Not just in the dark continent.
- No respect, woman!

But here, at home, we are at war

with those who deny us

our fundamental rights

to democracy!

With those who govern us

- without representation!
_

Unless you call us unreasonable,

we're not asking to govern you.

We're only asking to have a say

in choosing the man,
who govern us.

Are those for me?

You murdered me.

Say it again, my child.

You murdered me!

Sync and transcription
by LittleDuck and vivelalto www.addic7ed.com

- S01E02 -
A Dish of Adharma

Mary, it's half past seven.

I don't feel well.

Let's take a look.

It's my stomach.

Sharp pain or nausea?

Both.

You do know I trained as a doctor?

What's the matter?

It's not fair.

I have studied housewifery,
Kingsley doesn't.

Well, there is good reason
he didn't have to.

Because he is boy!

Because he's eight.
He'd destroy the place.

Look, I know that's not fair,

but there are things you can do
that he can't.

Like what?

Wear dresses.

- Braid your hair.
- Father, be serious.

What can I do that he can't?

Experience the joy of... childbirth.

See what I mean?

Yes, well, I'm sure one day
it will be very different.

But for now,
I need you to grin and bear it.

Right?

That's it!

Better get ready.

Yes, yes, I know.

Is Mary staying at home today?

Not today.

I thought she was ill?

Apparently, I'm a very good doctor.

Come along, my dear.

- I used to come out
_

- everyday to a meal on the table.
_

And some frustrated spinster

decides women should have the vote.

Got to show'em who's boss,
I always say.

You haven't met Mrs Mary.

This will just fuel the fire,
demonstrations, protests, riots...

We will keep an eye on him.

Even worse. It seems to have attracted

the attention of our famous friends.

Bloody hell!

Like flies to dung.

Gentlemen! Do come in.

Sorry for the intrusion, sir,

but this reincarnation case

caught my eye.

Which I knew it would.

I've been waiting outside for...

all 15 minutes.

I am so glad
this is gonna be a regular occurrence.

Given the fact that we solved
the last crime for you,

you're welcome.

I'm very grateful.

But I don't know
what you see in this case.

The boy was obviously hired
to kill Lydia Belworth

by one of her many, many enemies.

Possibly. But if there is
any truth to the boy's story,

we could offer persuasive
evidence of life after death.

Good luck getting anything
out of the boy.

He wouldn't even tell me his name.

I'm sorting through the missing reports,
we've just a description to go on.

But you know what, gentlemen?

I think, we can use your help.

Just that thought...

Maybe, this...

would go faster

if you'd help!

Help you misinterpret evidence and

declare victory for reincarnation?

Did you consider
that your predisposition to discount

the possibility of past lives
is highly subjective?

That's not subjective.

Faiths have believed in reincarnation.

If you'd happened to
have been born in India,

you would have accepted prima facie.

One call's rule is mathematical.

It's on billion more people on the planet
than there were two hundred years ago.

So where is the giant soul factory?

You can't see the wood for the trees.

It's about... achieving perfection.

Returning to earth, over and over again.

Slightly more evolved each time,

until we get it right.

I find that rather compelling.

Hum� Why not rather a poof?

Rather go once and go big.

There has to be an explanation
for this boy's deliberate actions.

He found a gun, he picked flowers,

he singled her out,
he said, "You murdered me!"

Why?

Maybe, he didn't mean it literally.

A ten-year-old who speaks in metaphors.

So, he is a professor
of literature� in his past life?

You are less than no help.

Okay, well, how about this?

It wouldn't be easier

to get the boy's name from the boy?

Well, even if you could be more
persuasive than the thuggish Sergeant,

I'm sure he restricts the interrogation
of suspects to police officers.

Exactly!

By the ways, as reasonable as
your suggestion may be,

it's also quite transparent.

If you're saying I just want
to check out the comely constable, why not?

Samelessness is not a virtue.

I find her beautiful, intelligent,

challenging as hell.

That's a perfect opportunity
for a wager.

Ten pounds that
she won't go to dinner with you.

Ten pounds?

You're incredible cheap.
You have no confidence in your bet.

I don't think that cheap.

Twenty.

Constable!

I'm so sorry to hear about
the attack on Mrs Belworth.

It's just an offensive assault

not only to her,
but to her entire movement.

See my earlier comment
about transparency?

The suspect is a young boy,
God knows where his parents are.

He might just open up to a woman.

So, if I fail, it's because
I'm a bad interrogator.

And if I succeed,
it's because I am a woman?

This is exactly why
the world needs more Lydia Belworth.

You're lucky Mrs Belworth survived.

Otherwise you'd be up for murder.

Do you know how serious that is?

Do you even know who she is?

Or what she does?

How important she is
to so many people?

If you don't tell us the truth,
we can't help you.

It's as simple as that.

You must be very afraid.

Do you want to go home?

I had to kill her...

for killing me.

She put a bullet in my head.

What the hell were you doing
with my suspect?

Mrs Stratton is a police officer.

Don't make me laugh.

Now, you're getting near that boy again

and I'll make sure�

His name is Martin Upton
from Aldgate.

We'll see.

Mrs Belworth!

I didn't expect you
to be up and about.

It would take more than a bullet
to stop a cause.

I'd like to know exactly what progress
has been made on my case.

A team of special investigators
has been assigned.

Constable Stratton and myself.

Doctor Doyle is taking notes.

Impressive!

Our first female constable?

Glad to see someone
has dust-up to take on this

fortress of masculinity.

I'm honored, Mrs Belworth,

I am a great supporter of you
and your movement.

Thank you.

I urge you to solve this case,
as soon as possible.

We will not take this attack lying down.

We learned the boy's name.

I'm not talking about the boy.

I'm talking about the real culprit
behind my attack.

Who do you think that might be?

Someone in the home office.

Are you suggesting
a government official

hired a child to carry out your assault?

They want to scare me, not martyr me.

Why give the kid
such a ridiculous story to tell?

Perhaps to distract everyone with...

wild tales about past lives,

rather on focusing
on the real issue, which is

enfranchising women.

Does the name Martin Upton
mean anything to you?

No. Who is he?

He's the boy.

I've never heard the name, nor...

seen him before.

Unfortunately, you have
no shortage of suspects.

I must go.

By the way,

killing Holmes...

That was a grave error of judgment.

And I saw your show.

Your fortune is ought to gullibility.

Keep me apprised, Constable.

Certainly, Mrs Belworth.

How soon can we get
the boy back on the street?

There is a missing report
on a Martin Upton from Aldgate.

But he was 29 and went
missing twelve years ago.

You're on your own, you understand?

That's not reincarnation.

That Martin Upton is missing,
not dead.

Well, then, all you need to do
to prove me wrong is find him.

I have his last known address in Aldgate.

Let's let the boy take us home.

So, Martin,

you remember where you lived?

Past the square.

So, somewhere kind of over there?

�close to sinners, and you too
can invite the Lord Jesus Christ

into your heart.

Reverend.

Now how on Earth did he know his vicar?

Who's that then?

It's Martin!

Martin Upton.

Martin?

You married me and B
seventeen years ago.

Beatrice Upton.

Yes, I did marry her, but�

Hello to Mrs Gilby.

Of course.

Well, that felt
considerably more specific.

He knew his name,
which is not hard to find out.

He pretended to recognize him.

I'd say anything, if I knew it'd keep me
out of jail for the day.

You bend the truth.

Everyone likes to think they're honest.

And then they choose half-truths,
because it's easier.

I'm not everyone.

Oh, well, in that case,

you're up for
a little game of "truth trade"?

- One of yours for one of mine.
- No!

Go on!

Very good.

- Are you a virgin?
- Houdini, really?

How inappropriate!
And in front of the boy.

I thought he was 29.

Constable, I urge you
not to encourage this non...

No, I'm not.

And my question for you is,
why did you chose to ask me

something prurient and embarrassing

rather something
profound and meaningful?

I wanted to see how you'd react.

That's not even half-truth.

Scamp!

Good dog, Scamp!

Got him when he was a pup.

I hate it when pets pretend.

That's a good dog. Yes, dog, yes!
Good dog!

So, what do you think?

Married? Promiscuous?

Maybe she was just trying
to shut you up.

That's a pretty big lie.

Shutting you up is a pretty big task.

This is where she buried me.

There's an inscription on the ring.

To M.U., love, B.U.

Congratulations! You found Martin Upton.

But me thinks
you haven't proven me wrong!

Maybe Lydia wasn't
the boy's first victim.

Oh, given the state of decomposition,
I'd say he died at least ten years ago.

Then the killer showed him
where the body was.

Why would the murderer show
a child where the body is?

I don't know!

Okay?

Not yet.

We need to inform Martin's next of kin.

She is just over there.

Come one, let's go!

Wait!

This is the address we have.

Think you can get us in?

I'm a police officer.

We are the ones
who don't do burglaries.

Constable, as much as
I appreciate your ethical styles...

He hasn't changed a thing.

Imagine the torment
that drove him to his crime.

Being haunted by a past life,

feeling compelled to right past wrongs
pay for past transgressions.

He tried to murder someone
and blame it on the mumbo jumbo.

He just found a corpse
that's been missing for twelve years,

and the best you could do
is "mumbo jumbo"?

I'm working on it.

These are quite good.

Thank you.

It's hard to make my living.

Camphine.

It burns brighter than other gazes.

And favourite
among professional artists.

You did these?

I just painted what I saw.

The female form is the true work of art.

I'll have to use that.

Look familiar?

Lydia Belworth?

In all her glory.

She was lying.

Don't move!

Who are you and
what are you doing here?

It's alright, I'm a police constable.

Don't come any closer!

B!

It's me, Martin.

Martin?

I'm back.

You're sure the body
was my husband's?

He was wearing this.

I'm sorry.

After all these years of...

not knowing.

Martin painted a lot of women, hum?

I won't deny he had a wandering eye.

Do you remember her?

Lydia!

She was a beauty.

He was smitten,

but she wasn't the only one.

Did you fight about it?

I just prayed I could be
a better wife to him.

Our only fight we had
was our last one

on the night he went missing.

What happened that night, Beatrice?

He... he broke a mug.

It was an accident.

But after all the lies,
it was the hit in me cup that set me off,

I hit him.

He hit me back.

First time he'd ever done that.

I think it scared him 'cause
he turned and run out the door.

And then what?

I cried.

Do you know what the last thing
I said to him was?

"I never want to see you again."

That pistol looks old.

That was my father's.
He served in India.

Martin was shot in the head.

You don't think I'd...

- You were furious at him.
- I loved him!

You'd do anything
to stop him from leaving.

Not that. Not to him.

You did just say you didn't want
to see him again.

I didn't kill my husband!

Any idea who did?

Everybody loved Martin.

You know why anyone
would attack Lydia?

I have no idea.

She stole your husband away from you!

Even after all these years,
you must hate her for that.

I don't hate her!

You ran into this desperate boy,
somewhere,

you decided you could use him,
you fed him a bunch of ball,

and you talked him into killing Lydia!

You're wrong!

That poor lad, I've never seen him
before today.

I think Mrs Belworth
has some explaining to do.

You were the only one I ever loved.

My dear heart.

Why did you lie about Martin Upton?

How dare you?

We found his paintings of you.

You know, the naughty ones.

We think the boy's attack on you

might be connected
to Martin Upton murder.

Murder?

We discovered his body.

It was a life time ago.

I was very young.

And Martin was...

well, he was very handsome.

You had an affair?

Nature took its course.

But I knew it was a mistake
as soon as it happened,

and I ended it, immediately.

Never looked back.

Still, this is exactly
this sort of rubbish

that could be used against me.

Men can have all the affairs they want.

But if a woman dares to, she's a pariah.

Isn't that so, Constable?

Oh, very much.

But still, you had a tempestuous fling

with the man and yet walked away.

Just like that.

As Virgil said:
"a fickle object is woman".

Isn't that what they all believe?

You may be fickle,
but I don't think you're stupid.

I wasn't Martin's only model.

There was an other one I remember,
whom he hurt rather badly.

I don't recall her name but,
she was a heavy-set girl, blond.

That's all I can tell you.

Thank you, Mrs Belworth.

No, thank you,

for the police protection.

You're still in these things?

Voil?!

That's French for "wow."

Come on!

We need to find this mysterious blond.

Maybe if we cross-reference

all the residents
with physical descriptions...

We'd just prove that Lydia's lying.

What makes you think she's telling us
the truth about the blond?

She had a perfectly good reason
for lying about Martin Upton.

Murder is an even better reason.

When will you stop defending her?

When I have proof
she shouldn't be defended.

Speaking of lying,

maybe this is a good time
for another truth trade.

- Please, don't.
- Come on!

Come on! Give me an other chance.

To ask a humiliating question?

You handled the last one quite well.

Do your worst.

That's a high bar.

In my experience, a woman works
for one of three reasons: she's broke,

she can't land a husband,

or she's desperate to make a statement.

Now, given your ring,

sapphire small but well cut,

worth a few dollars,

and your obvious beauty,

my question is:

what exactly are you trying to prove?

I'm ashamed to be a man.

You're right.
I am trying to prove something.

That women have nothing to prove.

Wow, well done.

My turn.

You are one of the greatest
entertainers in the world,

beloved by millions.

Yes! My answer is yes!

And yet,

I sense a profound feeling
of unhappiness;

the kind of unhappiness
that only comes from a great wound.

Now, pain like that usually only comes
from a couple of places

and, I've seen how much
you love your mother.

So, my question is:

what exactly
did your father do to you?

Nothing.

I love my father very much.

This is my stop.

We have a bit of a problem, sir.

The headmistress informed me

that Mary was absent from school today.

She is in her room.

I will not have
my daughter playing truant.

What is going on with you?

I told you.

I thought you were
quite excited about the school,

getting rid of your old governess.

I am.

Right! Then let's have no more
of this nonsense.

Are you crying?

No.

You're crying.

I'm worried about you, that's all.

Next thing I know, you'll be
running away to... Aldgate.

Aldgate?

It's just an example.

Look, I'll tell you what!

Promise me you'll go tomorrow,
and we'll forget all about it,

what do you say?

All right, Daddy.

Good girl.

Come on, then.

In you go.

Now, you get some sleep.

One question:
where did you leave the boy?

At the custody desk, handcuffed
to the rail, ten minutes ago.

In these handcuffs?

Un-bloody-believable!

We put out a warrant out
with his description.

So we will find him, trust me.

And then what? You lock him up?

Just like you did last time?

That was my doing, sir.

Don't try to claim credit.
I showed him how to slip the cuffs.

I'm not sure it's anyone's fault.

We're dealing with a...

pretty naturally mature child, here.

Gudgett was
the senior officer in charge.

Which is why he will be
informing Mrs Belworth,

how he misplaced
her attempted murderer,

who, even as we speak,

may be trying to finish
the job he started.

That may not be the only job
he tries to finish.

We've reason to believe

that there is another woman
involved in this case.

What might this woman be?

All we know right now, is that
she is blond, heavy-set.

Right.

Sergeant, put guards
around every heavy-set

blond in London, will you?

I don't suppose
you've found the boy's parent yet?

Closing in on him, sir.

Actually, I may have
had some luck with that.

I noticed him straining
to see things up close.

And I thought if he's farsighted,

he may normally wear glasses.

So I double-checked
the missing reports

and, as I say, I was fortunate.

I believe his name is Peter Bennett.

His parents reported him
missing three days ago.

I'd say that a damn fine police work.

Wouldn't you, Chief?

Yes�

And make sure
you follow that up immediately.

Hope perhaps, we'll all get lucky.

And find out that odd, tiny terrorist
has made his way back to mummy.

Yes. Of course, sir.

Hey, driver! Can we
pick up the pace? Come on!

Traffic in the cities is a mess!

Did you ever play truant
when you were a girl?

Let me guess.

Either your daughter is skipping school,

or you're picturing Miss Stratton
in a school uniform.

It was just one day,
but it's very unlike her.

Yes, I did.

One time was about a particularly
dreadful haircut.

And another time my best friend
talk me to snicking off to the fair.

I played hockey all the time.

Comforting.

First day in school, you know
what I'd be doing right now?

Annoying someone in America.

I'd be a teacher,
making fifteen bucks a week.

Any truly successful man
is self-made.

An emphasis on man.

Without an education,
a woman has no chance.

Well if we talk about a career, maybe.

Is that really what you want
for your daughter?

What does your wife say?

My wife has tuberculosis, she's been
unresponsive for six months.

I'm so sorry.

Quite.

Thank you.

You have no idea where he is now?

I'm sure we'll find him soon.

But the reason we were holding him
was for a shooting in Westminster.

You're saying that was our Peter?

I took his confession.

I knew he was troubled.

But� this.

Troubled how?

He used to be such a happy and

creative child.

About a year ago, he changed.
He became

distant, solemn,
retreating into a fantasy world.

He started missing school.

Wandering off.

It's become more and more frequent.

You tried a good talking-to?

Many times.

And that didn't help?

He'd started treating us
like we were strangers.

We hoped that it would pass
as it does for children.

But it� This� It is heartbreaking!

Any idea why he would want
to attack Lydia Belworth?

Of course not!

Can we see his room?

These are Peter's?

He is a wonderful artist.

Your son ever been to Aldgate?

Aldgate?

No.

Not that I know of.

Huh.

That's where I used to keep
my friends' post cards.

It's a journal.

But not Peter's.

It's Martin Upton's.

He must have takin' it
from Beatrice's house.

He has been to Aldgate.

Founds their key and
broke into Beatrice's home.

He found this and he learned
all about Martin's life.

His art, his vicar,

even his dog.

Maybe he found something
about a fight with Lydia

and he focused on that.

Bottom line this isn't
about reincarnation.

It's just the obsession of a young boy.

But why this story?

He has a vivid imagination,
I don't know.

Looks like his obsession
may include someone else.

He knows about the blond.

Then we better find her
before he does.

And how do you hope to do that?

Saw the light on in the office, I...

hoped it was you.

Find anything?

I found too much.

Martin had no shortage
of female friends.

Blond is in here somewhere, but�

it will take forever
to track down all these names.

Well� I... have something that...
may help.

What is it?

You can have it in exchange
for another truth trade.

You really want to do this again?

Yes, I do.

Tell you what.

We can both answer the same question.

Write down our answers,
and trade them.

Alright.

Question is simple.

What's your biggest fear?

Being unloved.

Being unloved.

You said you found something useful.

Yes�

Lydia was married
to Edward Belworth.

Belworth's a millionaire.
He died two years ago.

Left her a fortune.

Yes, I know. And before you imply
anything untoward

he was thrown from his polo pony.

So unless you think
Lydia can hypnotize horses,

there is no murder there.

But do you know about
her first husband, who also died?

Did you see that safe, in her office?

People with safes that big
either have a lot of money,

or a lot of secrets.

Turns out she has both.

I distinctly remember
talking to you about burglary.

Her first marriage was in 1890
to Gilbert Moreau.

Three years later she buried him.

Seeing a pattern yet?

So, maybe he died of the flu.
That doesn't mean she...

What was her maiden name?

Elo?se Lydia Derst.

Derst...

Derst...

"Dersty and Maguire found out
about each other today.

"Bloody huge row.
Don't not who they hate more:

"each other, or me."

Well, if Lydia is Dersty,

then it's a good bet
that the blond is Maguire.

All we need is an address.

Mrs Belworth, we were not expecting you.

Thanks a lot!

You could have stopped her
before she shot me.

Well done, Lydia!

You just set your movement back
a hundred years.

You played right into the hands
of your detractors.

All your hard work.

That's why I had to come here.

When you found Martin's body,
I knew it wouldn't be long

before you uncovered the truth;

and that would be the end of my life.

But more importantly,

the end of my work!

I couldn't let that happen.

And once you threw suspicion on Margery,

you had to kill her before
she could clear her name.

And by pinning everything on the boy,
you knew they'd be no loose ends.

How very noble.

You always were a bitch.

You filth!

I loved Martin.

It wasn't just a cheap fling
like you had!

It wasn't a fling.

Margery, I was carrying his baby.

And when I told him,
and asked him to marry me,

he laughed in my face.

He laughed.

I came back that night with a gun.

The day I gave birth,
that was the end of it.

March, the third, 1890.

That's the boy's birthday.

My baby was stillborn.

My mother saw it with her own eyes.

Never trust what you don't see
with your own eyes.

She said...

She said I shouldn't look.

Where is he?

I think I know.

You won't be needing that.

How did you know he'd be here?

Camphine.

Of course�

I remember the boy smelt
faintly of the gas.

And given its volatility, Beatrice
would have kept it in the cellar.

Childweight.

I prefer "Elementary".

You were right.

Lydia did kill Martin Upton.

But you're not Martin's reincarnate.

You're his son.

You found out
you were adopted a year ago,

set you into a tailspin.

When you discovered
who your birth father was,

you identified so closely
with him that...

you... became him.

Help and done avenging your own death?

As for your birth mother�

Unfortunately,
the woman that you shot...

My father is dead.

And my mother is a murderer.

No, love.

Your parents are alive and well,
and waiting for you to come home.

Peter�

Welcome home, son!

Mrs Belworth is dropping
all charges against him.

Thank you.

Thank you so much!

Well, everything has been explained,

and we didn't have to resort
to the paranormal to do it.

Yes, everything has been explained.

Well, you know,
after the boy's birth mum.

You mean his self-inflicted scar.

- And how he knew about the burial site.
- Huh-um.

Hardly definitive proof of reincarnation.

Yes, I agree.

It could also be proof
of spirit guides.

Or psychic imprinting.

Do you really take
no comfort at all...

in thinking that we may
get a second chance?

About as much comfort as
I take in knowing the safety net

below me is imaginary.

Our final "truth trade".

I'd love you to join me for dinner.

Would you?

Good evening, sir.

Thank you.

Not again!

Yes, but you should see this.

I found it in Mary's book bag.

_

I'm sorry for being so thick.

Any fool should have know
that this was about your mother.

Sometimes, I forget that anyone
could miss her as...

... as much as I do.

I have a confession to make...

That this date was a bet?

You were too persistent,
Doyle was too interested.

And then, you came anyway.

Do you have another confession to make?

The fact of being unloved note.

Is that a trick?

_

_

Not a trick, so much as... illusion.

Spiders?

Too bad about Lydia.

There is somebody I admire,
idolize even.

Robert-Houdin.

Greatest magician who ever lived.

I named myself after him.

The more I studied his acts,
the more I realized

I wasn't employing any real skill.

Just what I knew, cheap tricks.
Juvenile props.

And showing it was a fraud.

It hurts.

But remember,

skeletons in someone's closet
doesn't make your cause any less worthy.

Hey!

Maybe you should be the next face
of the movement.

How do you know I don't have
any skeletons in my closet?

I don't.

Sync and transcription
by vivelalto and LittleDuck www.addic7ed.com

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0