All language subtitles for Miss.Scarlet.and.the.Duke.S02E05.720p.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

It's better for both of us
to leave things as they are.

You were meant to teach
my son to be a detective.

Fitzroy will be
taken from your command

and placed under
Detective Phelps.

You know who you are.

I call that freedom indeed.

I hear you plucked young Fitzroy

from Detective Phelps to
assist you instead.

You disobeyed another
direct order, Inspector.

Hello, Inspector.

Harry.

Morning, Duke!

Morning, George.

Fresh bread!

Fresh loaves!

Morning, Inspector.
The usual, please, Jim.

Here you go.

Lovely.

Oh!

Anything I need to know?

Nope, not today, Duke.

All right,
keep your eyes peeled.

Thanks.

Busy night, Violet?

Frederick.

Duke.

Norman.

Morning, sir.

Did we have a meeting?

Sit down.

Is there a problem, sir?

Just take a seat, eh?

Now...

I know we've not always
seen eye to eye,

but I try not to
let personal feelings

get in the way of
professional decisions.

Which is why I'm recommending
you for a promotion.

Sir?

A vacancy for chief inspector
has come up.

I put a good word in for you.

The job is yours.

Well, thank you very much, sir.

Well, it's about time
you receive

the recognition you deserve.

Well done, laddie.

Thank you.

Thank you, sir.

There'll be a few more
pennies in the bank, too.

You need to talk that through
with Superintendent McNeil,

but it'll be quite a jump up.

Superintendent McNeil?

The promotion's with
the Glasgow force.

You'll be leaving
end of the month.

The Glasgow force.

Nice to get back to
the old hometown, eh?

Well done again, laddie.

Sir?

I would like some time
to think about it.

Well, I'm off to Manchester
for a couple of days.

Give me your answer
when I get back.

Mr. Victor Latchman?

None.

Lord Alexander Lipton?

Nothing.

Sir Thomas Pembroke,
Marquess of Bath?

Not a thing.

Not a single piece of
scandal on any of them?

Well, the uncle of
the Lipton man

has been throwing his money

around town.
On what?

Two hospitals

and a factory
making clothes for the poor.

We've been doing this
for weeks now.

Why you care
what they been up to?

Mrs. Parker pays me
to do background checks

on potential husbands
for her niece.

She wants to know
if they're suitable,

and I promised Hattie
to find reasons

why they're unsuitable.

She wishes to marry

someone of her own choosing,
not her aunt's.

Well, you need to find
someone else to do your digging.

I'm done.

I know it's unethical,

but Hattie's led
such a sheltered life, and...

I don't care about
the ethics... it's boring.

Boring?

They're all the same men

with the same families
and the same lives.

There are better uses
of my time.

I have a reputation to protect.

Is this you asking
for more money?

No, it be about
professional pride.

Why?
How much you offering?

You're right.

There are much better
uses of our time.

I'm seeing Hattie presently.

I'll tell her to
speak to her aunt.

I'm happy to have a word
with Mrs. Parker myself...

If the money's right.

Now, that is
something I would love to see.

Inspector.

Moses.

What did he want?

We're working a case together.

What kind of case?

Is that a new waistcoat?

Very smart.

No.

Are you aware how often
you change the subject

when you don't wish to
talk about something?

I'm glad you're here,
I have a favor to ask.

Point proved, I think.

Do you have any plans
on Thursday evening?

Ivy is insisting
Mr. Potts...

Sorry, Barnabus...

Comes to dinner.

There's no way I can
suffer that alone.

Eliza...
Please, please?

Don't make me beg.

Never mind that, I, um...

I need to speak to you
about something.

Do you mind if I hail a cab

while we talk?

Hattie Parker is calling
around, and I'm running late.

Yes, fine.

So, um...

So I was at work this morning...

This isn't going to be
about Moses, is it?

No, it's not about Moses.

But if you insist on associating
with known criminals...

This is about Moses.

I didn't come here to
speak to you about Moses!

Or Barnabus bloody Potts!

I've, um...

I've been offered a promotion,

to chief inspector.

William, that's wonderful news!

Congratulations!

The, uh, the job is in Glasgow.

Oh, I see.

That's a shame, never mind.

Is that all you're going to say?

What else is there to say?

Well, it's in Glasgow,
Eliza... Scotland.

I'm well aware where Glasgow is.

But you're clearly not
going to take it, so...

How do you know?
William.

I say this as a friend.

Since I have known you,

you've been offered
many different jobs,

and any that are
outside of London,

you've, you always turn down.

Yes, and this is
a promotion to chief inspector.

As was the job in Nottingham,
I seem to remember.

We've had this conversation

on at least three occasions.

And each time, you, you
agonize over the decision,

and in the end decide to stay.

Why not?
You're comfortable here.

Comfortable?

That was a poor choice of words.

For your information,

I am seriously thinking
about taking this job.

And yes, I am well aware
that I've said that before.

William!

Your aunt has
given me yet another list

of potential husbands.

I'm running out of reasons
why they're unsuitable.

You must speak to her, Hattie.

Tell her you do not
wish to marry yet.

It is not that
I do not wish to marry.

It's just,

I do not wish to marry someone
who does not wish

to marry me.

You want to marry for love.

Yes.

But my aunt thinks I'm fanciful.

"Harriet," she says,

"You do not have
the luxury of time or looks

to wait for love."

How could she
possibly understand?

Everyone is in love with her.

You're a grown woman.

You must stand up for yourself.

I do try, but you'd be surprised

how determined she can be.

Hattie.

You're a lovely young woman.

Any man would be

lucky to have you as their wife.

Do you think so?

Absolutely.

I will tell my aunt
I do not wish to wed

and that is that.

Papa left me some money.

Perhaps I could
set up my own house.

There may be
financial implications,

but, as you say, Eliza,

I am a grown woman
and I will find a way.

Won't I?

You will.

I will go and see Mr. Norris,
our family accountant.

He will tell me
which purse strings

my aunt controls.

So that is a plan.

Is it?

It is.

Will you come with me?

The man is
the most dreadful bully.

I have every faith

that you can do this
on your own.

So...

That is a definite no?

Yes.

And you will not
change your mind?

No.

Thank you for
changing your mind.

I must be careful
what I say to Mr. Norris.

He is rather enamored
with my aunt.

Really?

Oh, yes... she has many admirers.

After all, she is
a very handsome woman.

It's a mystery how
she remains alone.

Mr. Norris?

I'll wait here.

Are you sure you
do not want to come in?

Mr. Norris?

Mr. Norris,
it's Miss Parker.

Mr. Norris?

Mr. Norris...

Fetch the police.

Now, Hattie!

Rigor mortis begins to set in

about two hours after death.

First in the muscles
around the face and jaw,

and then it progresses outwards
to the rest of the body.

This all feels very familiar.

Miss Scarlet, I
seem to remember asking you

to accompany Miss Parker

back to Scotland Yard
to give a statement.

Not just familiar, but staged.

Why go to all that effort?

Try moving his wrists.

Completely rigid.

The fingers, too.

Full rigor mortis takes

14 to 18 hours to develop,

which puts the time of death...

Some point last night.

It's only a
rough guide, of course.

We can't know the exact time...
Quarter to midnight.

I stand corrected.

Miss Scarlet has clearly
developed a new technique

unknown to medical science.

It's called using your eyes.

The clock, it's been stopped.

No, it has stopped.

You do not know
it's been stopped.

William...
Inspector Wellington.

This entire scene is exactly
as it was in the novel.

What novel?

"Quarter to Midnight"
by Samuel Bedborough.

You haven't read it?

No, enlighten me.

Been a few years
since I read it,

but I would swear everything
in this room is precisely

as it was in the book:
the blood-stained lily,

the knife in the neck,

the arrangement of his hand

on the chest,
and the clock stopped at

a quarter to midnight.

You really should read more.

I read plenty,
just not that particular book.

I've not read it, either.

Thank you, Detective Fitzroy.

Although I do read
at least one book a week.

At the moment, I'm working
through the Russians,

starting with Goncharov.

Make yourself useful.

See if there is a visitors' book

or a list of his appointments.

Find out who was last in here.

Miss Scarlet, a word?

Go back to Scotland Yard,
ask for Phelps,

make a statement.

But I can be much more use here.

Will you just do what I ask?

This is about your
job offer, isn't it?

You're annoyed with what I said.

Eliza, I am so often
annoyed with

what you've said,
it's hard to keep track.

When I said you
were comfortable...

You meant that I lack ambition.

No! Of course not!

Only that your life is
arranged as you like it.

You're settled.

That sounds even more
insulting than "comfortable."

I think it's best if we
cease to discuss this.

I will let you know my decision
when I have come to it.

All right, but can I just say...

No!

Now go back to Scotland Yard
and ask for Phelps.

That book, the one you think
the murderer imitated.

You said it was written by
Samuel Bedborough?

That's right, why?

The victim was his accountant.

I do not see
what the problem is.

I'm not hiring you.

Just hear me out.

Firstly, I've read every
Samuel Bedborough novel.

I'm a huge fan of his work.

Secondly,

if you don't hire me,
Hattie Parker certainly will.

Mr. Norris was
a friend of her aunt's.

Surely it is better to share
information and resources.

If not for me,
for the taxpayers of London.

Oh, you're so selfless, Eliza.

It's a cross I must bear.

So?
Is that a yes?

How much is your fee?

On second thoughts,
let's forgo the haggling.

Think of the first amount
that you were going to say.

That seems fair.

Good, now half it.

"He could not be distracted

"once his mind was
focused on a task.

"There was nothing that could
break his chain of thought.

"Not the shattering of
the window downstairs,

"not the footsteps
in the hallway.

"When at last he looked up,
he saw a blade

"glistening in the moonlight,

and felt the cold steel
pierce his heart."

Thus concludes chapter three.

Thank you, Mr. Bedborough,
for once again

gracing our humble shop
with such a wonderful reading.

Now, if you would like
to form an orderly queue,

Mr. Bedborough will gladly
sign copies of his book...

As long as they have been
purchased here, of course.

No, no, no!

Outside, please.

I need to speak
to Mr. Bedborough.

This event is for
ticket holders only.

You will have to wait in line
like everybody else.

Madam, I'm Inspector Wellington

with Scotland Yard,
I'm here on police business.

And yet you brought your wife.

She's not my wife.

I'm a private detective,
assisting Scotland Yard

with their inquiries.

I've heard many excuses
in my time, but that...

Oh, for God's sake,
I haven't even read

any of his damn books!

I have.

I am Miss Bedborough,
Samuel's sister.

Is something wrong?

We need to speak to
your brother right away.

When did this happen?

We believe
Mr. Norris was killed last night.

Can you think of anyone who
might wish to do him harm?

He always seemed to be
a perfectly decent man.

In truth,
I didn't know him well.

He was a business acquaintance.

We only met a few times a year.

When was the last time?

A few weeks ago, I think.

I couldn't say for sure.

As we mentioned, we believe

the crime scene
was arranged to resemble

the murders in
"Quarter To Midnight."

How extraordinary.

You understand
that I have to ask you about

your own movements
last night, sir.

Why?

It's a standard question,
Samuel.

They ask it of everyone.

I have a suite
at the Brabham Hotel.

I'm staying there whilst
I finish my latest novel.

And were you alone?

You mean apart from

the 50 staff and 300 guests?

Samuel.

My sister and I had dinner,
and then I wrote, all night.

I'm rather late
delivering my latest novel.

Is it true you once
finished a manuscript

in the carriage on the way
to the publishers?

I am woeful about deadlines,

but I have no need for
muse or mood.

I can write any time

or any place.

You enjoy my novels?

Very much so, yes.

In fact, "Quarter to Midnight"
is my favorite.

Ah.

I haven't read
that particular one,

but, um, I did enjoy
"Curse of the Crimson Shadow."

That was not me.

"Quarter to Midnight"

is a tale of an author
struggling for inspiration.

It's based on
Bedborough's own life.

He spent years as
an unpublished writer

before finally enjoying success.

The writer in the novel
is under pressure

to deliver his latest book,

and slowly starts going insane.

He believes his two best friends

want to put him in an asylum,

so he kills them both.

But like Macbeth, he's unable
to live with the guilt.

You do know the story of...

Yes, Eliza, I know
the story of Macbeth.

My apologies.

Anyway, when the author

in the novel was a child,

his parents
died of scarlet fever.

As a boy, he witnessed them

laid out in
their coffins at home,

each holding a lily.

The clock in Norris's office

read a quarter to midnight,
which is the exact time

the two murders
in the book take place.

But on separate nights.

So if someone is that keen
to replicate the book,

then it is possible
that they could kill again.

It's possible, yes.

Do we know any more
about our victim?

Edward Norris, 52 years old,

uh, unmarried.

He's a respectable accountant
with 100 or so clients

that we're busy tracking down.

I'm going to
read the book again,

see if there's
anything we've missed.

May I suggest you do the same?

Fitzroy.

Get me everything
you have so far

on Norris's associates.

Right away, sir.

Oh, and, uh,

do me a brief synopsis
on the story of Macbeth.

A couple of pages should do it.

You will have it, sir.

"When the hurly-burly's done,

when the battle's
lost and won."

Make that one page.

Yes, sir.
Mm.

This is, of
course, Mr. Bedborough's

most famous work,
but have you considered

beginning with
"Alone In Greenwich"?

It should be here somewhere.

Ah, yes.

I'll, uh, read that

straight after this,
Miss Willoughby.

Might I recommend
that you read it first?

They do make a wonderful pair.

Such vivid prose.

I could recite every line.

I think I'll just
start with this one for now.

You know, what am I saying?

It, it is not
"Alone in Greenwich"

that you should begin with, no.

It is...

This,
"The Witches Call."

And do you know why?

No, but I'm sure
you're going to tell me.

There is a constable in it...
Welsh, too.

Well, I'm an inspector
and I'm Scottish, so...

I would also recommend

"The Jagged Tear."

In, in fact, perhaps
I should just get you

his complete works.

How does that sound?

Expensive.

May I ask

why you wanted to
speak to Mr. Bedborough?

I can't discuss that,
I'm afraid.

I knew there was something wrong
as soon as he came in.

He usually turns up to readings
in a wonderful mood,

but today he was

rather withdrawn

and upset.

And this was before
I spoke to him?

Yes.

I've never seen him
like that before.

I, I do hope
everything is all right.

Would you like them wrapped?

Want another, skipper?

No, I'm trying to concentrate.

Got you one anyway.

Not like you.

It's for the Norris case.

Right, yeah, that makes sense.

Didn't have you down
as much of a reader.

Apart from the
"Sporting Post."

Did you want something, Charlie?

No, just seeing how you are.

If there's any news.

In the ten years
we've worked together,

I don't think you've ever
bought me a drink.

People change.

People do.

You don't.

What do you want?

All right if
I speak my mind, skipper?

Well, that depends what
you're going to say, Charlie.

I heard the super talking
to you about the promotion.

I was just passing.

Passing?

And I was thinking,

if you did take it,

you might put in a word for me.

To take over from you.

Well, subtlety never was

your strong point, was it?

I've got a wife and four kids.

Five kids.

I can't afford to be subtle.

I know you've had

offers in the past
and turned them down.

But you're not getting any
younger... neither of us are.

At some point,
the offers will stop coming,

and that'll be your lot.

And if you're happy
with how things are,

fine, but if you're not...

Yes, thank you, Detective.

That any good?
Terrible.

Good morning.

Morning.

Thank you, Sidney.

I've made some progress
with the Norris case.

I need to see the evidence.

How did you find me?

Oh, you know, lucky guess.

You do have
something of a set routine.

Beard trim on a Monday,
dog track on Tuesday,

shoe shine on Wednesday.

Thursdays...
All right, all right,

you've made your point.

What progress have you made?

I need to see the murder weapon.

I reread
"A Quarter to Midnight."

As did I.

Along with some
of his other work.

Did you know that Bedborough
was raised in a workhouse?

I did, yes.

The themes of rags to riches

are very common
with his characters.

Like the lawyer in
"Alone in Greenwich."

William, I'm both
surprised and impressed.

A compliment and
an insult in one.

That's quite something,
even for you, Eliza.

Have you made your
decision yet about the job?

As I said, I will
let you know when I have.

Well, please feel free to
discuss it with me.

And let you insult me again?

No, thank you.

My intention was not to insult.

You can be rather sensitive
sometimes.

Sensitive and settled,
well, this just gets

better and better.
William!

The case, Eliza?

You wanted to see
the murder weapon?

The killer in
"A Quarter to Midnight"

used the same weapon
for each murder.

The knife, yes.

The first victim

was stabbed in the neck
with his own knife.

The second had the same knife
embedded in his neck.

Which is how we found Norris.

Which means...

He may not be the first victim.

Exactly.

Here it is.

When I closed the book
last night,

I noticed something

on the spine.

The publishers,
Bellamy and Son, their crest...

...is a galloping horse.

So if the killer is following
the plot of the book,

then the knife belongs
to the first victim.

It's locked.

Mr. Bellamy?

Is there a side entrance?

There's no time for
that... kick it down. Sir.

Look upstairs, touch nothing.

Inspector Wellington.

In here.

Just like the novel.

Right down to the time.

James was a good man.

He'd been my publisher
for years.

He took me on when no one else
was interested.

When did you last see him?

We had dinner on Thursday night.

How did he seem?

In good spirits.

We talked through my latest
chapters.

He gave me notes,
it was all very pleasant.

And you can think of no one that
may wish to do him harm?

I, I don't know, uh...

My mind is a little foggy.

My brother has been
up all night writing.

I tell him to go to bed,
but he never listens.

And that's where you were
last night?

In this room, writing?

Yes, all night.

May I ask what happened
to your hand?

God's sake.

Must you keep asking these
irrelevant questions?

Samuel.

My friend has just died.

I, uh...

Slipped in the bathroom.

One too many brandies.

Could we finish this later?

I must go and visit James's son,
he will be beside himself.

We'd prefer if you stay
here, sir.

Both murders were exactly as in
your novel, and as you know,

there is a third death. The author
in my novel takes his own life.

I can assure you I am not
planning on doing that.

Even so, if someone is
determined

to replicate the book,
they may wish to do you harm.

Your sister's right,
Mr. Bedborough.

I'll arrange for

police protection for you,

in the meantime,
if you'd like to go home.

Our home is being decorated.

- I'll stay here.
- As you wish.

I'll wait here
until an officer arrives.

Miss Scarlet, if you could take
this message back

to Scotland Yard for me.

I tracked down the night porter.

Samuel Bedborough left the hotel
last night around 9:00

and didn't return again till
gone midnight.

A killer who replicates the plot
of his own book.

Isn't it more likely someone is
trying to damage his reputation?

Possibly, but there's no better
cover

than a murderer who hides in
plain sight.

Looks like he was arrested
three months ago.

What for?

Public disorder.

He was arguing with a woman
in the street

and apparently, they
threatened to kill each other.

They were arrested
for breach of the peace,

but no charges were brought,

so they were cautioned
and released.

Francesca Bellesini.

She's an actress.

Go and speak to her

while I assess the bodies
in the mortuary.

Miss Scarlet.

Excuse me, sir,
your carriage is ready.

Thank you, Fitzroy.

On the way back from the
mortuary,

I wonder if we may go via
Covent Garden.

I would very much like
to secure tickets

for the premiere of Offenbach's
"The Tales of Hoffmann."

Perhaps I will do that
in my own time.

Perhaps you will.

God knows what'll happen
to him if I leave.

Well, it's a good job

that you're not going
to take the job.

How many times?

I haven't made my decision yet.

Unlike you, I give consideration

to the life that
I've built here.

What do you mean, unlike me?

Well, if you were offered the
job,

you'd take it in a heartbeat.

Well, on the day
that women are allowed

to be chief inspectors,

we shall have that conversation.
You know what I mean.

If you were offered more money
and higher-profile cases,

you would jump at the chance,
no matter where the location.

We're very different people,
William.

Oh, meaning that you have a
singular ambition,

and I am dull and predictable.

Beard trim on a Monday,
shoe shine on a Wednesday...

You're twisting my words.
Am I?

You do not have to justify your
life to me.

I do when you
constantly tease me about it.

Then I apologize.

Clearly hit a nerve.

From where I've come from,

I have done damn well to get
this far.

We don't all have the luxury

of inheriting our father's
business.

I will go and speak to
Miss Bellesini.

You'll have my report in the
morning.

Eliza...

Eliza.

I apologize, that, um...

That came out harsher
than I expected.

Don't let me keep you, William.

It's almost time for your
3:00 whisky.

Excuse me, I'm looking
for Miss Bellesini.

No, too pretty.

The maid cannot be
more handsome than me.

She must be ten years older,
at least.

Tell them to recast.

Miss Bellesini, I'm not involved
in your play.

I want to talk to you about
Samuel Bedborough.

What was the nature
of your relationship

with Mr. Bedborough?

The nature of our relationship?

Yes.
Physical.

And, um, and where did you meet
him?

Oh, some party.

I cannot remember whose.

But we do not see each
other anymore.

I have a new lover.

Younger, much more willing
to please, you know?

And how long were you
and Mr. Bedborough lovers?

A year, maybe a little less.

And what happened
the night you were arrested?

Ah, that was my fault.

Yeah, he tried to end things
with me,

so I had a little too much
to drink and went to see him,

and one thing led to another,
you know how these things go.

The police were understanding.

I told them it was
Italian passion.

Not that I am from Italy.

Nobody has heard about my
country,

so Italy plays much better.

So you argued because
he finished your relationship?

Yes and no.

I knew he had other lovers...
He's rich, why wouldn't he?

It was how he ended it.

He sent his little friend with
a diamond necklace.

A parting gift to make me
go quietly.

Who was this friend?

Norris.

His accountant, I think.

I call him the Grim Reaper.

When you see him,
you know it's over.

He must have delivered bad news

to a dozen of Samuel's women
over the years.

The cause of death is identical
in both cases.

A single puncture wound to the
carotid artery.

The size of the wound indicates
the same weapon.

You two,
start making house calls

on the accountant's street,
see if he had any visitors.

Fitzroy, Phelps, you do
the same for the publisher.

"Screw your courage to the
sticking place

and we'll not fail."

Lady Macbeth.

Do I have to go with him?

That depends whether you want to
keep your job.

All right, off you go.

Fitzroy.

Word, please.

Look, what we do requires
working as part of a team.

Any detective,
but you above all,

needs the trust and respect
of his colleagues.

Quoting Shakespeare...

I'm sorry, sir, it was
misjudged.

One day, I may not be around to
look out for you,

so you need to start fitting in.

Where are you going?

I, I'm just making the point.

Go to the pub with them, right?

Let them moan about their job
or their wives

or the money that they lost on
the nags.

Hell, let them moan about me.

I would never let them do that.

The more you are an outsider,

the weaker you will be.

And men like Phelps,
they can smell weakness.

Now, that doesn't make him
a bad man,

it's, it's just the nature of
being a copper.

Show them you can be one of the
lads, eh?

You sound like my father.

God forbid.

Sorry for the delay,
I was comforting my aunt.

She is in great distress
about Mr. Norris.

Well, I have a question
about Mr. Norris.

Samuel Bedborough said
that he and Norris

had a purely professional
relationship,

only seeing each other
a few times a year.

Really?

I find that strange.

Mr. Norris was always mentioning
Mr. Bedborough to my aunt.

He made out the two were as
thick as thieves.

That may not have been true,
of course.

He may have been trying
to impress,

since he was secretly in love
with her.

Hattie, can we go five minutes

without you mentioning your
aunt?

Yes, of course, my apologies.

You said Norris and Bedborough
were "thick as thieves"?

It is my understanding
that they dined together

several times a month,

and Mr. Norris was always doing

this favor or that for
Mr. Bedborough.

I believe that Mr. Norris

recently arranged the purchase
of a house in Knightsbridge.

It was only a few doors down
from...

I'm about to mention my aunt,
but I believe it is relevant.

Go on.

Mr. Bedborough's new house

was on the same street
as my aunt's.

The other residents were beside
themselves

to have such a well-known face
living amongst them, until...

Well, I am not one to gossip.

Of course.

But, please do.

Mr. Bedborough
moved in not two months ago

and seemed to be spending
a fortune on renovations.

But then last week,
the strangest thing happened.

Samuel Bedborough is up
to his neck in debt.

Yet he's staying in a suite
at the Brabham.

Not for much longer.

He is facing a hefty bill.

He owes money all over town.

That's why the bailiffs
took his house

and everything in it.

And he be at the bailiffs'
last night.

Doing what?

Trying to get back some
piece of furniture

they took from him.

Every day this week, he's turned
up trying to buy it back,

but they want the whole bill
paid or nothing.

What piece of furniture?

A writing desk.

Told them he couldn't write
without it.

He told me he had no need
for "muse or mood."

That he could write anytime,
anywhere.

Well, he wants that desk back.

Security caught him breaking
into their warehouse last night.

Roughed him up a bit.

His bandaged hand.

This warehouse.

I take it you
have contacts there.

I have contacts everywhere.

Ain't seen nothing like that before.
- Gentlemen!

It was amazing, weren't it?

Good evening.

Detective Fitzroy!

Ain't it past your bedtime?

Very good... would,
would anyone like a drink?

Oh, they don't serve milk in
here.

Well, I'll take that as a no.

Oh!

Why don't you go home to
your mummy, Fitzroy,

so's she can clean you up?

Why don't you shut your mouth,
Phelps?

You wanna repeat that?

Didn't think so.

Spoiled little brat!

You shouldn't have done that,
boy.

We've got ten minutes till the
shifts change.

Bedborough's things are over
there.

They took everything from his
house, even the rugs.

They don't miss a trick,
those boys.

No wonder he's in debt...
The man has expensive taste.

These are from Maples of
Piccadilly.

Here.

Doesn't look like much.

It's not... he must
be very attached to it

if he's that desperate
to get it back.

Maybe sentimental.

I once knew a man

who got into a knife fight
over a rocking chair

that belonged to his mother.

A man?
Hm.

You?

No!

Harpocrates.

What?

In one of Bedborough's early
novels, there's a, a lawyer...

Grandiose character,

deliberately unlikeable.

He makes a fortune

defending men he knows
to be guilty of murder.

He calls himself Harpocrates.

He's the Greek god of silence...
Legend has it

that whatever secrets he knows,

he will never speak of them.

He will take them to the grave.

But of course, his secrets are
discovered.

"Alone in Greenwich."

"The Witches Call."

These are Bedborough's novels,
covered in notes and reworkings.

They must be the original
manuscripts.

Why keep them hidden?

Anything to report?

No, sir.

How is Bedborough?
He's writing and asked

not to be disturbed.

Where is he?

What the hell's going on?

My thoughts exactly.

I needed to confirm a suspicion.

There's no time to waste,
we need to go. Where?

The final death in the book

is when the author takes his own
life.

And you want to leave him
unguarded?

He's not the author.

Miss Bedborough!

Put the knife down.

Do as he says.

Please.

The writing desk that was taken
from your brother's home.

That was yours?

Yes.

I found manuscripts inside with
notes from the publisher

addressed to you.

So it was you who wrote
the novels,

not your brother.

Our mother died in the
workhouse.

Our father,
God knows where he went.

Samuel was determined to make
something of himself.

He saw the parallels between his
own struggles

and those of Charles Dickens,

and felt sure it would make him
a great writer, too.

But he struggled for years to
become a novelist.

I didn't have the heart to tell
him the truth.

That he lacked the talent?

He knew it, too, deep down.

But he is my older brother.

I would have done anything to
help him.

So I did.

I rewrote his story,

and found I had a flair for it.

By the time I submitted his
manuscript to the publishers,

there was barely a word of his
left.

Why not put your own name
on the cover?

There are plenty of published
female writers.

Samuel begged me not to.

He could not have suffered the
humiliation

that his spinster sister was the
one putting food on the table

and not him.

But after the success of the
book started to rise,

I did ask him if I could use my
name to the next.

That was when they called the
meeting.

They?

Samuel, Bellamy, and Norris.

The three of them convinced me
that as a woman,

my readership would be half of
that of a man.

They promised that one day I
could write under my own name,

but now was not the right time.

It was never the right time.

Why kill them?

The one benefit I received from
this arrangement

was that I would be well looked
after.

I would have a comfortable home
and security.

But then, one day, the bailiffs
arrived

and I found out the truth.

Samuel's debts were
all-consuming.

He had spent every penny of my
money.

And Bellamy and Norris knew all
along and did nothing.

They didn't care as long as the
books were still being written

and they were receiving their
money...

Money I was earning for them.

So this was your revenge?

And the world would know that
you were the true author.

I would have my moment of fame
in death.

All this time, I have let my
brother shine.

For what?

To end up a poor spinster back
in the workhouse.

Would you like me to arrange
you a lift home?

No, thank you.

I would take you myself, but
there are reports

that I have to finish for the
morning shift.

I understand.

Eliza, all this, uh...

All this politeness is
exhausting.

Isn't it just?

I, I didn't mean what I said
about your father's business.

I know that you haven't been
handed anything on a plate.

I know how hard you've worked.

But there are times when you
push me too far.

I only tease you because

I'm so comfortable
in our friendship.

But I suppose I can be a little
insensitive sometimes.

It is only because I'm envious.

Envious?

Of me?

You're fulfilled in your life.

That's not lack of ambition,

that's something you should
celebrate.

You have that rare thing

that most of us don't find in a
lifetime.

True contentment.

That's why you're one
of the people

I respect the most.

When you say one of...

Forgive me, sir.

I, I didn't know
you were still here.

What have you done now?

I, I did as you suggested.

I, I went for a drink
and I, I tried to fit in.

Perhaps I tried a little too
hard.

I could not go home to my father

like this, so I thought I could
sleep here.

I have a spare room...
You can stay there.

Thank you.

Sir.

Hello! Harry.

Hello, Inspector.

Thank you.

Morning, Duke!

Morning, George.

Fresh bread! Fresh
loaves! There you go, love.

Cheers, Jim.

Thanks, Duke, have a good day!

Cheers, Duke.

Violet.

Not again, Norman.

All right, Duke.

Come!

Can I have a quick word, sir?

Take a seat, I'm almost done.

How was your trip, sir?

Don't ask.

Business or pleasure?

Neither.

It was two days with my wife's
family.

So, you've had time to think.

I trust you've realized

how good an opportunity this
promotion is.

I have, and you're right, it's
a good opportunity.

But it's not one that's right
for me

at the moment, sir.

I pulled in a lot of favors to
get you this, laddie.

Chance like this might
not come up again.

I understand, sir,
but my decision is made.

My life is here in London.

Well, I had hoped you would
accept the position

so I could avoid this.

Sir?

Fitzroy's father,

the police commissioner,
wants you gone.

The boy's getting worse,
not better.

I have been trying...

He's an albatross!

Which is why I told you to put
some distance

between yourself and him,

to let him sink or swim.

But you wouldn't listen to me.

Now he's drowning and his father
wants someone to blame.

There's only so many times
I can protect you,

so let me be crystal-clear.

You're going to take this post
in Glasgow.

Because there's no longer a job
for you here.

Your inspector friend
is leaving London.

You'll have no ally
in Scotland Yard.

No one to share their resources

or indeed hire you.

Young Fitzroy will lead
the next case that comes in.

There's a name in there you
might recognize.

A hired assassin.

And Lizzie, is she safe?

Go to our
website, listen to our podcast,

watch video, and more.

To order this program,
visit ShopPBS.

"Masterpiece" is available with
PBS Passport

and on Amazon Prime Video.