All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S05E10.Staircase.to.Heaven.720p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-EsQ.eng

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- Two turns left
before the final.

- Place your bets.

10 loses.

4 wins.

- That's it for me.

- You shouldn't risk
everything on one card, Hannah.

- This from the man who
leaves everything to chance?

- Only too true, Hannah.

- Place your bets.
Come on, Magnus.

Russell. Emily.

- I'll let mine ride.

- I'll add...

four more checks.

- 2 loses.

Queen wins.

- You cheated, Jacob.

- What are you talking about?

- No one can win a
game that's gaffed.

I demand we inspect the cards.

- Show him the cards, Jacob.

He won't be
satisfied till we do.

We need some more light.

Fanny, would you be so kind?

- Yes, Mr. MacDonald.

- The filament must be
broken. Try the other lamp.

- Yes, sir.

- I'll fetch an oil lamp.

- Hurry up, Hannah.

It's dark as Hades in here.

- Jacob?

Oh, Jacob!

- Detective Murdoch.

- Dr. Grace.

- I'm surprised you were able
to make it here in the storm.

- I almost didn't.

You were telephoned as well?

- I was here already.

- Oh. I see.

Well, then I take it
you knew the victim.

- Yes. Jacob Oliver.

We went to medical
school together.

- And is this his establishment?

- No, he's a guest of the owner,

Magnus MacDonald.

He lives here with
his sister-in-law,

Hannah Beaumont.

- Sir.

When will my guests
be allowed to leave?

- Detective William Murdoch.

I'm afraid everyone here
will have to be questioned.

- A poor end to what
was supposed to be

a splendid evening.

- These people are
friends of yours, Doctor?

- A group of us get
together from time to time

to play cards.

- What happened?

- We were playing when the
storm knocked out the lights.

Suddenly Jacob was gasping
for air and clutching his neck.

I ran to tend to him.
Russell tried to help too.

- Russell?
- Russell Chisholm.

He is the man at
the bar with Magnus.

He's a doctor as well.

- Hmm. Quite the game of cards.

Your thoughts, Doctor?

- Jacob died of blood loss.

Something is wedged in his neck

that likely severed
the carotid artery.

I'll know more once I continue
my investigation at the morgue.

I'm ready to take the body now.

- I'm afraid your examination

will have to take
place here, Doctor.

- What do you mean?

- The ferry to the mainland
isn't going anywhere

until this storm lets up.

We're here for the night.

Are you quite all right, Doctor?

- I was sitting at a table
with my friends, playing cards,

and one of them
died in front of me.

No, I'm not all right.

- A bloody nuisance.

My whole force is out
dealing with emergencies...

People stranded,
washed-out roads.

- Cells at Station
2 are flooded.

He needs to be housed.

- We don't want the poor sod

catching his death, now, do we?

- Certainly not. Ned Watts.

He's laying charges against
Randolph Means tomorrow.

- Randolph the Razor?

You've got some stones.

- Nothing to do with stones.

It's his neck or mine.

- I'll keep an eye on him.

- Appreciate it, Thomas.

- Crabtree, where the bloody
hell do you think you're going?

- Sir, I was going to catch
some of the vaudeville.

They're giving out
prizes of coal and ham

to anyone who
will brave the storm.

- Not tonight, you're
not. I need you.

- He'll be signing a deposition

at the Crown attorney's
office tomorrow.

- I'll make sure that he
practices his penmanship.

Does the Razor know
that we have him?

- Who knows what
the Razor knows?

- Crabtree, put
him in the cells.

- Cells?

I'm providin' evidence tomorrow,

testimony that'll put
Randolph the Razor

on the sorry end of the noose.

I'm not sitting in any cell.

- I suppose I could watch
him just was well here, sir.

- Well, don't be
mollycoddlin' him.

- If Razor gets
wind of where I am,

we're all gonna die tonight.

- Will you be much
longer, Detective?

- I'm afraid your guests
will have to stay put

until the weather breaks.

You may as well make
yourselves comfortable.

- Hmm.

Very little blood spatter.

I confess to being an
admirer of Conan Doyle.

I take it you're
familiar with him.

- I'm somewhat acquainted, yes.

- Hmm.

I believe the reason
for the lack of blood

is that Jacob was
clutching at his neck,

trying to save his life.

- You were playing
a game of faro, yes?

- We were.

It's an elegant game
in all its simplicity,

a man's fate decided
on the turn of a card.

- Hmm.

- The table's too wide for
anybody to reach across

and stab the victim.

- Mr. MacDonald,

I would prefer to conduct
my investigation alone,

if you don't mind.

- Just trying to help, sir.

- How much longer
is this going to go on?

- Apparently, until the good
detective is finished with us.

Fanny, would you
pour us a drink?

We may as well get comfortable.

- Margaret, look,
it can't be helped.

I'll have a duty detective...

Margaret?

Margaret!

Mar— Oh...

Bollocks.

We lost the
telephone connection.

- That's likely due
to the storm, sir.

- I know it's from the
bloody storm, Crabtree.

- I would like to write
out my deposition now,

if I could.

- It can wait until morning.

- Doubt it can.

Maybe there was
no flood at Station 2.

Maybe they just
wanted me out of there.

Razor intends on
finishing me tonight

and anyone who stands
in his way, I imagine.

- Well, he would
have to make it through

two highly trained officers
of the law to do that.

- You two?

Roly and Poly?

Know why they
call him the Razor?

Not for the means which
he dispatches his victims

but because he's in possession
of an extremely sharp mind.

Doubt you two are a match.

- You just watch
your mouth, sunshine.

- Here he comes!
- Sit down!

Crabtree, answer the door.

Constable Crabtree,
get the door.

- You'd best arm yourself.
- I said sit down!

- Please, I need refuge!

- Uh, we're having a situation.

- I know my rights!

You're obliged to help me,

or need I quote from
the Police Services Act?

- The bloody hell?
- Fine, there's a stove here.

You can warm
yourself there, old man.

- Old man?

I'm but 43.

- These are hardly
ideal circumstances

for such a delicate procedure.

We have to conduct the
investigation from the mainland.

- It's not possible, Doctor.

- That's not enough light.

- Where's the fuse box?
- I don't know.

- Perhaps it wasn't the storm

that knocked out
the lodge's power.

- What are you doing?

- Miss Beaumont.

- This is my studio.

- I'm conducting a
murder investigation.

- I realize that,

but it didn't
happen here, did it?

- Does anyone
recognize this pin?

It had been jammed in
the socket of the lamp.

Any attempt to turn it on
would have tripped the circuit.

Who does it belong to?

- Um, it looks like one of
mine. It must have fallen out.

But I don't know anything
about electrical thingamajigs.

Mr. MacDonald
asked for more light.

When I went to
turn on the first lamp,

it didn't work.

- And that's when I left the
room to fetch the oil lamp.

- And did you return to
your seat, Miss Glover?

- No, I waited by the fireplace.

- Where you had a clear line
of sight to Mr. Oliver's chair?

- I couldn't see a thing.

I stood where I was and
waited for Miss Hannah

to return with the lamp.

- You had already left the room?
- Yes.

- And did you see Miss
Glover upon your return?

- As she said, she was
standing by the fireplace.

- Hmm.

And Mr. MacDonald?

- I had left a box of
matches on the mantle.

I stood up to get them.

- You knocked
over the cigar stand.

Made quite a clatter.
- I did?

I'm surprised you
remember such a detail,

given all the whiskey
you've consumed, Russell.

I struck the match.

Jacob was making dreadful noises

as my sister-in-law
returned with a lamp,

and we saw the ghastly sight.

Then I went into the foyer
and telephoned the police.

- Detective Murdoch,

I'm ready.

- What is it?

- I don't know.

But the depth of
the wound indicates

that it entered his neck
with considerable force.

- Given the distance
across the table,

the killer must have used
some sort of firing mechanism.

A sling, perhaps.

Doctor, have a look at this.

His fingertips are
exceptionally smooth,

almost as if they've
been sanded down.

- I am not a part
of any of this.

- Keep you voice down, Fanny.

- Miss Glover.

What are you not a part of?

- I'm nothing more
than the maid.

I was just here to count cards

so that everybody
else could play.

- And to cover for
Jacob's cheating.

- These cards are marked.

- Ah! I knew it!

Bastard!

It was Jacob's idea
to involve a servant.

We should have known then he
was planning on queering the game.

- Stop this.

Fanny had nothing
to do with this.

- Let the detective
do his job, Hannah.

- There's no money on the table,

yet you all had
checks to play with.

What were you playing for?
- Nothing.

Just a friendly game of cards.

- Obviously, there was
something significant at stake.

Dr. Grace?

You have something to say?

I'm not speaking to you
as a colleague, Doctor.

What's going on here?

- You're right, Detective.

The stakes were quite high.

- For God sakes,
be quiet, Magnus.

- We have nothing
to hide, Russell.

- What were you playing
for, Mr. MacDonald?

A chance to die, sir.

We were playing
for the chance to die.

- Playing for the chance
to die, Mr. MacDonald?

That will require
an explanation.

- We belong to the Society
for Metaphysical Exploration.

- Quite a lofty name for a
group of people playing cards.

- Faro is only an adjunct
to our purpose, Detective.

Our society's based in serious
scientific experimentation.

- Which involves
cold-blooded murder?

- The horrible
event of this evening

has nothing to do with our goal.

Scientists and scholars
have long pursued a belief

in the spirit world.

- Is your group attempting to
communicate with the dead?

- No, not attempting, Detective.

We are succeeding.

By putting ourselves
in near-death states,

we are crossing
over to the other side.

- I find that hard to believe.

- At first, so did I.

- What happened?

- For some years,

I've been trying to communicate
with my dead wife, Charlotte.

I sought out a
well-known medium,

but it was a
dreadful experience.

The woman was a charlatan.

- And then?

- Arthur Conan
Doyle came to Toronto

to talk about spiritualism and
the presence of an afterlife.

- And you attended.

- Yes, Hannah and myself,
with my daughter, Lillian

Conan Doyle was convincing
as he talked about crossing over

to the other side.

The perfect hotel, he called it.

Lillian was a medical
student at the time.

She was fascinated.

A few days later, she introduced
us to her fellow students.

- Mr. Chisholm and Mr. Oliver.

- And Emily Grace.

- Dr. Grace?

- That surprises you?

- I thought her
to be a scientist.

- Then you have a very
narrow view of science.

The four students
thought, if it were possible

to visit the portals
of the other side,

then why not prove
it once and for all?

So we started our experiments,
or travelling, as we call it.

- So, Crabtree, tell me about
this song-and-dance show

you were supposed to attend.

- Oh, sir, I am sorry
to be missing it.

Um, duty calls and all,
but they were going to have

a professional
regurgitator there.

Sir, it's a man who has
the ability to swallow

almost any object, and
then he can bring it...

- I know what a regurgitator is.

- Sir, I wonder how the
detective is making out

in the rain.

- I'm sure he's well-prepared.

- Yes, he always is, sir.

- Bloody Murdoch.

Never a hair out of
place on him, is there?

- Hmm.

He's a fastidious
chap, to be sure.

- Quite annoying sometimes.

- Well, annoying is harsh term.

- Stick in the mud.

You ever seen him laugh?

- I've seen him smile.

I've even seen him smirk,

so he does project a sense
of being somewhat amused

from time to time.

- Man needs to loosen
up. Life's too short.

Fancy a wee swallow, Crabtree?

Keep out the cold?

- Oh, sir, don't mind if I do.

- Ah. Good lad.

Oh, that's refreshing.
Thank you, sir.

One thing I will admit
is somewhat annoying

about the detective, sir,

is that he's always
telling me to pay attention

to the small details.

"Now, George, pay attention
to the small details," he says.

It's almost as if he
forgets I am a writer.

- Of course.

- The traveler is
injected with a solution

of chloral hydrate to
induce a hypnotic state.

Once in a deep sleep,

the traveler is
placed into a bath

surrounded by packed
ice to keep the water cold.

Hypothermia protects
the internal organs

and increases the
comatose state.

- And who supervised this?
- We all did.

We have the
medical qualifications.

- How long is the traveler
left in this suspended state?

- Uh, it varies depending
on the body's size and weight.

Once the heart rate drops
below what we consider viable,

the traveler is brought back.

- With this caffeine citrate?

- Yes.

The resulting shock
stimulates the heart and lungs.

- What does this have
to do with a game of faro?

- Faro's a game of chance.

We leave the choice of
who travels each year to fate.

- And who was
winning this evening?

- Jacob Oliver.

- Well, it would appear
Mr. Oliver has been granted

a one-way ticket
to the great beyond.

How can you willingly
subject yourselves to such risk?

- Explorers are risk
takers, Detective.

They travel to the
ends of the earth.

We are trying to
do more than that.

We're trying to find heaven.

- So have you warmed yourself?

- I have indeed.

- I'll have to send you
out when the rain lets up.

- Eh, sure.

- Drink?

- Oh, never touched the stuff.

Uh, I like to keep
my mind sharp.

- I don't mind the odd dram.

- Not bloody likely.

- What is it, Crabtree?

- Sir, do you have any idea
what the Razor looks like?

- Can't say I do. Why?

- Because I hear he likes
to keep his mind sharp.

- Watts, have you
ever seen the Razor?

- Not me.

No one knows what
the Razor looks like.

- Jacob was determined
to be the next traveler.

That's why he cheated.

- Surely, you were all
equally anxious to win.

- Naturally, Detective.

I was longing to see
my beloved wife again.

- You hadn't yet travelled?

- I was the first to go,
but it was uneventful.

I fell into a deep
sleep but saw nothing.

A dull headache
was my only reward.

- We were too conservative
with the chloral hydrate dose

the first time.

- So you increased the dosage.

Who was next?

- Jacob.
- He came back ecstatic.

He'd met Thomas Addison.

- Addison? The British doctor?

- Yes, one of the pioneers
of adrenal research.

Addison and Jacob had an
exchange on the other side.

Dr. Addison validated Jacob's
ideas on adrenal extracts.

- So he says.

- I had no reason to doubt him.

- He was a liar and a cheat.

- Russell and Jacob

were quite competitive
medical researchers, Detective.

Both wanted to ascend
the staircase to heaven.

- You don't come across
many master criminals.

- No, that you don't.

- A man with the
Razor's reputation,

you would think that somebody

would have caught a
glimpse of him by now.

- You know, sir, it's a shame
Detective Murdoch is not here.

- We don't need Murdoch.
We're proper coppers.

- Oh, yes, but, sir,
Detective Murdoch...

There may not be a keener mind
in any police station anywhere.

- Hence the reason
why I hired him.

- And good on you for that, sir.

- Have a seat, Crabtree.

- I mean, without him,

this station might
never solve a case at all.

- Now, hold on, Crabtree.

I wouldn't go that far.

I've solved many
cases in my time.

You don't rise to the upper
echelon of the police department

without demonstrating
considerable accomplishment.

- Well, yes, sir.

I don't doubt your
past achievements

back when you
were in your prime.

But I mean recently.

- Prime?

Son, what you don't understand

is that I have myriad
other duties that hinder

my ability to sink
my teeth into a case.

The politics of the job is
a time-consuming task.

But given the chance...

- Well, sir, if you
don't mind me saying,

as commanding officer,
surely you have the authority

to take the lead over any case
that comes through the door.

- That may be, but have you
considered the human dynamic?

If I were to do that,

wouldn't I be stepping on
Detective Murdoch's toes?

That's what I mean when
I talk about the politics.

I have to think about the
morale of the station as a whole.

- Uh, yes, of course, sir.

- But that old man, he may
be worth further conversation.

- Right.
- Sit down, Crabtree.

I'll handle it...

when it's time.

- I take it you also
wanted to win the game

and travel to the other
side, Miss Beaumont.

I'm an artist, Detective.

The depiction of inner beauty...

The soul, if you will...

Is what I strive for.

A spiritual journey
would be invaluable.

- And Jacob Oliver's
enlightening experiences

no doubt encouraged you all.

- Yes.

He was a changed man afterwards,

full of confidence
and determination

to further pursue his research.

- And Mr. Chisholm?

- Well, Russell was desperate
to have the same experience.

The doctors were competitive
in all things, Detective.

- All things?
- Yes.

Including the
affections of Lillian.

- Lillian. Your niece.

- Yes.

There were advances from
both men over the years,

but Lillian's a new woman.

No intention of tying
herself to a marriage.

Her career was
always far too important.

- And she was also involved
in the experimentations

that you had all
been conducting?

- Very much so.

- Then why isn't Lillian
here this evening?

- I cannot capture her.

- Will you please tell me
what is going on here?

- I don't know what
you mean, Detective.

- You were not forthcoming
about your association

with this group, Doctor.

- I didn't see how it
related to Jacob's death.

- I am conducting a
murder investigation, Doctor.

You have participated in
the activities of this society

and withheld that
information from me.

- Our experiments are conducted
with great care and scrutiny

under medical supervision.

We were breaking no laws.

- What else is going on here

you've chosen not
to share with me?

- Nothing.

- Who are you protecting?

- No one.

- Lillian MacDonald
was a founding member

of this society.

Why was she not
at tonight's game?

- I wish she were.

- Dr. Grace, answer me.

- Lillian didn't return.

- Return from where?

She was a traveler.

- It was her idea.

- What happened?

Dr. Grace, what happened?

- I killed her.

I killed Lillian.

- Dr. Grace, the
truth this time.

What happened to Lillian?

- Lillian was the architect
of our experiments.

After Jacob travelled
and saw Dr. Addison,

she was determined
to go further.

She would have done anything.

- She was as competitive
as the other two.

- More so.

Jacob said he saw a
level beyond his reach.

Lillian was
resolved to get there.

- And how were you involved?

- Lillian won the game last year

and asked me to
preside over her transition.

I was touched by her trust.

- You had never presided before?

- No. It was always Lillian.

She was in charge of the dosage.

She had researched the
chemicals and their effects.

- What happened?

- She wanted to go deeper.

She asked me to inject her

with a higher dose
of chloral hydrate.

- And that killed her?

- No. I refused.

That wasn't the
cause of her death.

- Continue.

- Once the choral
hydrate took effect,

we placed her in the ice bath.

It's time.

Jacob, hand me the caffeine.

I injected the caffeine
citrate in plenty of time.

- But it wasn't
sufficient to revive her?

- On the contrary.

- Instead of the
normal acceleration,

her heart began
to race violently.

She was gasping for breath.

And then her heart stopped.

I couldn't revive her.

We were all shocked.

Hannah was devastated,

and she has never recovered.

She works constantly to
bring Lillian back in sculpture,

and she's never satisfied.

- She blames you.

- Actually, no.

It's my own conscience
that won't forgive me.

- Even after a
failed experiment,

you all decided
to attempt it again?

- I still believe in what
we are trying to do.

The scientific advancement,
the endless possibilities...

it's worth the risk.

- Could someone have
tampered with the dosage

of caffeine citrate?

- Even if that were so,

it would never have provoked
such an extreme reaction.

- Doctor, you take
responsibility for her death,

yet you defend your procedure.

- She died of heart failure.

- Surely, you have
an alternate theory.

- What are you suggesting?

- Given the meticulous way

in which Jacob
Oliver was murdered,

it's quite possible the
two deaths are related.

- How come you came
to this particular station

on this particular night?

- I was seeking shelter.

- Nothing more?

You better be telling the truth,

or I'll put you on a
charge of vagrancy.

How do you fancy
a week in the cells?

- I was simply trying
to get out of the rain.

Perhaps your
judgment is clouded.

I know mine certainly was before
our Lord and Savior convinced me

to give up the bottle.

Have you considered
the road to His light?

- Sir.

- What is it, Crabtree?

- Just got a wire
from Station House 2.

They're coming
back to pick up Watts.

Apparently, they've staunched
the flooding in their cells.

- Mr. MacDonald?

- What did you tell him?

- He found out about
Lillian. I told him the truth.

- Why would you
bring her into this?

- Lillian's death
was an accident.

- Jacob's was no
accident, to be sure.

- You mean Mr. Oliver.

Don't forget your station

just because your
betters keep dying off.

- Russell, mind your tongue.

- The murder weapon.

- And it belongs to
you, Mr. MacDonald.

- It's a holdout.

- Used by gamblers
to cheat at cards.

- Yes, but it certainly
wasn't built to shoot objects.

It slips a card into
the player's hand

by pressing against this lever.

It can't propel the
card across a room.

- All it would need is a
stronger, shorter spring,

which it now has.

- Anybody could have done that.

This room is never locked.

Everyone knows of my collection.

- You were a gambler,
Mr. MacDonald?

- I was a gambler,

never a cheater, and
certainly not a killer.

- What about all this?

- This blade was a
favorite of Doc Holliday's.

Concealed it in his sleeve.

These cards belonged
to Canada Bill Jones...

Roughened on one side so
two cards will stick together.

His fingers were like silk,

sanded down to be more
sensitive to the cards.

- Just like Jacob
Oliver's fingers.

You realized he was attempting

to cheat you out of your chance
to see the gates of heaven,

so you killed him.

- I'm not that
desperate, Detective.

Lillian, Jacob, and Russell
were the determined ones.

- The holdout would have
enough force to fire across the table

and pierce Jacob's neck.

But I don't see
how that helps us.

If anything, it places
everyone back under suspicion.

- Not everyone.

Whoever killed Jacob Oliver

would have had to
have been standing

almost directly in front of him.

Based on where you were
seated at the time of his murder,

you can be exonerated.

I must confess, I'm relieved.

- As am I, Detective.

Straight on target would
mean either Hannah or Russell

was the perpetrator.

Hannah was out of the room,

so the only other
possibility is...

- Mr. Chisholm.

The two of you
were scientific rivals.

- A little healthy
competition, yes.

Nothing worth killing over.

- You were also rivals
for Lillian's affections.

I could have had
Lillian if I wanted her.

- You and Mr. Oliver were
both present at Lillian's death?

- Yes. An unfortunate result.

- So she was just the subject
of an experiment, then?

- I beg your pardon.

- Mr. Chisholm, you don't
seem particularly affected

by either Lillian's
untimely death

or Mr. Oliver's murder.

- So you think I killed them?

- Do you have any idea
what this could possibly be?

- No.

Not at all.

- Russell!

- Is he alive?

- Barely.

Hurry, Russell!

- Here.

- Who killed you?

- Move!
- What are you doing?

- Trust me!

No.

I don't understand.

It should have worked.

- His heart's stopped.

- It won't circulate if
the heart isn't beating.

- Beat, damn you. Beat!

What did you give him, Russell?

Beat!

Beat!

Beat, damn you!

Beat! Beat!

Beat!

- Detective!
- Detective!

Detective Murdoch.

- Inspector Graves asked me
to convey his appreciation, sir.

- We could have held
him the rest of the night.

- No need.

My inspector wants
the glory on this one.

Come along, sir.

- I'll escort you to the wagon.

- That's not necessary.

- Oh, I don't mind.

Sir, arm yourself.

- Good God.

It worked.

- What did you use
to bring him back?

- I took an extract of a
sheep's adrenal gland.

Jacob was right.

- You gave him adrenaline?

You gave it Lillian
too, didn't you?

You killed Lillian.

- I did not.

Jacob administered
the adrenaline.

- But you knew,

and you let me shoulder
the burden of her death.

You and Jacob killed Lillian.

- Dr. Grace.

Assemble the rest of the Society
for Metaphysical Exploration.

- You're not needed here.

- Always willing to help
out a fellow officer of the law.

I never did get your
name, Constable.

- I never gave it.

- The next one goes
right through you,

Mr. Bloody Teetotaler.

- Two murders have
occurred at this lodge.

Two murders that are connected.

- What are you talking about?

- Lillian MacDonald
died a year ago.

She died of an
overdose of adrenaline.

- Russell, is this true?

- It was Lillian's idea.

- But is it true?

- They were all involved...

Russell, Jacob, and Lillian.

- No! I don't believe it.

Lillian would never
have taken such a risk.

She would never
have abandoned me.

- Well, maybe you didn't
know her as well as you think.

- I knew her best.

I loved her best.

- Miss Beaumont, may
we have a word in private?

- What you say to
Hannah, you say to all of us.

- Very well.

Miss Beaumont, you
killed Jacob Oliver.

You loosened the
lightbulb of one lamp

and rigged the second
with Fanny's hairpin

to blow the circuit.

You knew the first
lamp wouldn't work...

- Yes, Mr. MacDonald.

- So you waited for Fanny
to walk to the second lamp.

You then feigned your exit...

- I'll fetch an oil lamp.

- Timed perfectly with
Fanny pulling the switch.

But you didn't leave the room.

You stepped back
into the darkness

and stood right
behind Mr. Chisholm.

You then kicked
over the ash stand

to mask the sound of
the holdout's release.

- You then left the room...

- Hurry up, Hannah. It's
dark as Hades in here.

- Returning moments
later with the oil lamp.

- Oh, Jacob!

- And in the end, the
person that killed Jacob Oliver

was the person
with the perfect alibi.

- Where is the evidence?

- Miss Beaumont,

is this your sculpting tool?

- I suppose it must be.

- How is it came to be broken?

- I work with
difficult materials.

- Oh, I see.

Well, then, perhaps
you can tell me,

how is the broken piece ended
up in Jacob Oliver's throat?

- He used my precious girl

to further his quest
for scientific glory.

- Lillian wanted us to take
her right to the edge of death.

- But you should
have looked after her.

You shouldn't have
gambled with her life.

The two of you killed her.

Detective, arrest this man.

- I'm afraid I cannot.

Lillian MacDonald's death
must be ruled an accident.

- I will not accept that.

- Mr. Chisholm and Mr. Oliver's
actions were irresponsible...

but not illegal.

Your actions, however, were,

and I'm afraid I have to
place you under arrest

for the murder of Jacob Oliver.

- You caught Randolph
Means? The Razor?

- Indeed, sir, with
the inspector's help.

- Oh, good of you to
mention it, Crabtree.

- When Watts was
transferred here,

the Razor got wind of it.

He commandeered a police wagon.

He placed an accomplice
here in the station.

Then, sir, he disguised
himself as an officer of the law.

- Well, the Razor's a rather
elusive fellow, George.

How did you spot him?

- The shoes, sir.
Hardly police issue.

- The shoes? Very good, George.

You see, by paying attention
to the smallest detail...

Oh, here we go.

- What's so amusing?
- Oh, nothing, sir.

- Fancy another drink, Crabtree?

Well earned.
- Certainly, sir.

So, Murdoch,

I believe our jail cells
have a new occupant.

Caught yourself a
murderer as well.

- I did, sir.

- Did you pick up
on some small detail

someone missed?

- No, sir.

Finding the crucial
detail was the result

of a rather unusual
occurrence...

outside of my body, if you will.

- Go home, Murdoch.

Get some rest.

- Yes, sir.

"As the life ebbed out of me,
I seemed to drift away from...

"and I could see my body...

"No fear as I moved away
from Dr. Grace and Dr. Chisholm.

"I felt a heightened
feeling of awareness,

an intensity I had
never experienced."

Dr. Grace.

- What did you see...

when you died?

Please.

What did you see?

- Heaven.

- Truly?

- I saw heaven,

or at least my imagining of it.

- How was it?

- It was wonderful.

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