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You look beautiful, Mary.

Hmm...

Mr Blennerhasset,

what a wonderful job you've done.

Oh, Mary.

My darling, Mary.

Let's not touch Mary.

I've never seen her so alive, Mr Blennerhasset.

You know young lady, I think you'll find

her hair was perfect.

Let's get the photograph, shall we?

And then you can touch her all you want.

No cheap trinkets on my Mary.

You can get rid of this bloody thing.

I'll not have it buried with my daughter.

I think you'll find I had her posed

in quite a dignified position.

Ready, Mr Blennerhasset.

Give me a few minutes.

I need to liven her up a bit.

Oh, my baby.

Young man, could you put these boxes down, please?

I've got my own system.

Mr Blennerhasset, when can we see the photograph?

Well, Mrs Carew, you haven't decided which case you want.

You can have plush lined or you can have velvet, or you...

Will we have it for the funeral?

It would be such a comfort for everyone to see it.

Well, Mr Carew, I'll have it for you before that.

Now could...

Stop! You're carrying that upside down.

Carruthers, could you come and help please?

You know how to pack it.

Not really, but God knows I try.

I think velvet might be nice.

If only Mary were alive herself to see the photograph.

Well unfortunately, she isn't.

You don't quite have it, I have it.

That sounded like a nasty one, Mr Blennerhasset.

It sounded like a break.

It might be just a fracture if you're lucky.

I'm fine.

Carruthers, could you help me to my carriage please?

Stand, stand, stand.

Has much changed?

No, Miss Vickers.

But I've been smoking a lot more.

Good for you, Carruthers.

Me too.

You don't have to do that.

Then go to bed.

I will not go to bed.

You can't tell me what to do.

I think your mother might have just sent you here,

so she could spy on me.

Oh, no, I volunteered. Practically caused a scene.

I need to be away from them.

All of them.

Don't do that.

Uncle, I want to be an actress.

Oh.

And they all mock me for it at home.

Just like they mocked you.

Yes.

I remember the mocking.

I was thinking,

now that I'm living in town,

that I could get some experience with a bit of theatre company,

and ideally, never go back home to our family.

Very well, Nancy. You can stay.

No, something's not right.

Nothing right about doing that to yourself.

That's a queer one.

Slash both your wrists with a razor,

take turns,

then sit real upright,

get comfortable,

and let yourself bleed out.

Calm as you like.

Oh, yeah. That's a queer one.

Roper, didn't I just say it was a queer one?

Regan, do you need to be

breathing down my neck like that?

I wouldn't have to if your sketches were any better,

but they're shite, so get used to me.

I don't think there's much point, sketching this.

Two identical suicides in one week.

They both look very...

Lifelike?

Yeah. Now you're talking.

Did you get one of those memorial photographs done?

Those odd photos you get when someone's dead?

Yeah, one of those.

You know the way a dead person looks alive?

There's a fella in town specialises in that racket.

Blennerhasset.

I know his work.

It's hard to tell which is actually the dead person.

It's grim enough.

Look,

McKlien had IRB connections,

he was up to his neck in debt.

No.

It's never the most obvious thing.

It's maybe not down in Cork, but up here,

the obvious thing is usually the thing.

Well, what're you, young buck?

Do you ever want to sniff out the big catch

and walk your way up the ladder to Dublin Castle?

I just want to do the job at hand.

All right, there's no point

making work for yourself, needlessly.

Right.

You go through his bins outside there.

Take your time.

You don't want to miss anything.

What? What do you mean?

You said it yourself, boy. It's a queer one.

Well, this won't do for starters.

You're sure you packed the plate?

I am personally offended by that question.

You know how meticulous I am about my work.

How do I know you haven't become careless in your old age?

You were looking for me, so?

When these cases were left unattended...

Careless.

...did anyone interfere with this one?

I didn't see a sinner, no.

Well now you're going to have to take me down

to the Carew household, right away.

No.

It's near midnight, uncle, and they're bereaved.

Well, don't I know it.

Nearly fit to kill myself listening to them maudlin chatter.

Well, don't kill yourself until you take me there.

First thing tomorrow morning.

Nice to see you two are still rays of sunshine.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Brock Blennerhasset.

The memorial photographer himself.

Do I know you?

No. I know you.

You did a lovely portrait of my cousin, Paudie Cream.

Cream?

Oh, yes. Killed by a bull.

There wasn't a corner of that field

that poor Paudie wasn't kicked into.

If I remember, rightly, it cleaned up quite well.

Mm-hmm.

Now, is the master of the house in?

No, they're at the funeral.

Oh, yes, of course.

Detective Frederick Regan, Dublin Metropolitan Police,

Dew Division.

My middle name is James in case you were wondering.

Yes, yes, I was, yes.

Could I possibly come in?

I misplaced a lens cap here yesterday I think.

No sweat off my sack, Mr Blennerhasset,

but a small piece of equipment,

may be a needle in a haystack.

We've had a spot of breaking and entering.

I can't stand these opportunistic bastards.

Knowing a poor family is bereaved and taking advantage.

Indeed.

If I had the means, it'd be a mighty help

to document crime scenes like this.

Like, you know, the means of the photography, I mean.

Well, why don't you save up and buy yourself a camera?

Well, I've been trying to persuade the brass.

Would you be a dear,

and have a look under that table for me?

Nope. Doesn't seem to be there.

I keep telling them.

I keep telling them having a photograph of the apartment

at the yard, is the future.

Will they listen to me?

Will they?

If any of your officers do happen to find,

a small item, it's about this size,

could you please tell them to treat it with the utmost care,

maybe used gloved hands,

and then get in contact with me as soon as possible.

No problem, Mr Blennerhasset.

Thank you so much.

You didn't happen to see anything peculiar

when you were here yesterday?

No, I don't believe I did, but then again,

I found that family so over-bearing,

that I hardly noticed anything else.

They put ire or your hole, wouldn't they?

Yes, they would. They would put ire on your hole.

G'day, sir.

- Home, sir? - I'm afraid not, Carruthers.

I'm sorry again for your loss, boy.

I was wondering, you didn't happen

to see some photographic equipment yesterday, did you?

No? OK.

Again, I'm sorry for your loss, young lady.

I was wondering, did you happen...

Sorry again, Mrs...

Mr Blennerhasset, you came.

Oh, you came.

Mr Blennerhasset, have you brought

the photograph of poor Mary?

Not quite, but all in good time.

But you said today.

Yes, but, my foot, that was injured

in that quite unnecessary incident yesterday,

has set me back somewhat.

It would, I suppose.

Oh.

That was nearly an early grave for you, sir.

Thank you.

All right, Mr Blennerhasset?

Yes, fine. Thank you. Thank you.

Bloody nuisance of a man.

Brock Blennerhasset, as I live and breath.

I love your work.

I'll get that for you, sir.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

No, don't worry. I dug this one.

Oh.

Here.

Very kind.

Look, I hope you don't find me too overly familiar,

it's an honour to meet such a pioneer

in the field of Irish photography.

I know some people find your work quite distasteful,

but not me.

I think it's an art myself to be honest.

Oh, yes, you're right, it is an art.

The name's Conall Molloy.

I've seen your work.

The head man here, Billy Barron,

showed me an elegant photograph of his uncle,

Mr Edwin Wainwright.

Oh, yes, Wainwright.

He was in the canal for four or five days.

And a mighty job that you did of covering it up.

All right, well, thank you for your help.

G'day.

Hey, did you hurt yourself, sir?

Yes.

Just a mild fracture.

I was wondering, Mr Blennerhasset,

if you're in need of assistance?

I am looking for a new line of work and I like to sketch,

straight scenes, real-life, the characters,

the Dubliners, that sort of thing.

And photography is an area, I'd love to gain experience in.

You look like the type of chap

who likes to get his hands dirty.

I am a gravedigger, sir.

Yes, that you are.

Well, perhaps I might have some work for you,

and you'll be happy to know, it involves some digging,

for information.

I see. Information?

- Yes. - All right.

Now, there's my address.

Come and visit when you're finished work.

Certainly.

Thank you, sir.

Billy. Be good, man.

Oh, here we go.

Look, I just need some cover to go do a small job.

No. There's digging to be done, Molloy.

It's consumption season.

Yeah, don't I know it.

Look, I promise I'll do a double shift in return.

Me mother needs me to take the extra work,

and you don't want to be letting me ma down, do ya, Billy?

Certainly do not.

Actually, I owe Dympha a little visit,

now that I think of it.

Now, that's...

That sounds a bit ominous there, Billy.

No, so you best leave it off,

she's up to all it's men anyway.

Oh, anyhow.

Thanks for that, Billy. You're an absolute gent.

Good luck.

But I have flowers to give her.

I've no call for that many flowers.

But she got them off the grave.

You say it was too big, isn't it, Ma?

When was the last time you wore it?

Chivon's funeral?

Yeah, but I felt more comfortable then.

It's about time you start dressing neat again.

There's no call in dressing neat

if it's only the dead around you.

Maybe not for much longer, eh?

Yes?

I've appointment with Mr Blennerhasset, ma'am.

How exciting.

Is that?

It's mud, and you'd be surprised how much

I've already scraped off actually.

Now, a photographic plate has gone missing.

Very, very important photographic plate.

Might it been stolen?

It's not in the family home.

Carruthers has searched his carriage countless times.

Nancy has searched every corner of this place,

under my watchful eye.

Mr Molloy, you do appreciate my reputation, don't you?

Yeah.

Many of the grieving families

that I met in the course of me work...

Yes, grave digging.

Yeah.

Well, they've been comforted so greatly

by your photography.

You bring the dead to life.

Yes, indeed.

Well, this photograph is more important

to this family than money.

And my reputation is more important to me than money.

I want you to go to other photographers

and see if they have encountered a photographic plate

in the last 24 hours.

Yeah.

And under no circumstances,

are you to say who you work for.

Mr Molloy, here are a list of photographic

studios in Dublin.

The ones underlined are the ones my uncle feels

are out to get him the most.

You have beautiful handwriting, ma'am.

I wrote that.

Mr Molloy?

A small present.

He says he doesn't need them anymore.

That's very good of you.

Just a bit tidier.

Maybe do that outside.

You have a visitor, uncle.

Well, now, as I have it,

the parents didn't approve of the marriage.

They had notions.

And this Desmond Roth, well,

he's a Fenian

from a working class background,

and when Mary got sick,

he couldn't afford to take care of her.

So she went home to convalesce,

and there she died.

So in the morning of the funeral,

a suspect, Brock,

broke in,

mad with grief he was to see the dead wife.

And when she wasn't out,

I suspect that he stole a memento.

And that got me kind of thinking about your search.

Oh.

Why would he take a lens cap?

Maybe it wasn't a lens cap.

Maybe, you lost the photo of Mary,

and naturally,

didn't want the Pounds to find out about it.

That's nonsense.

It's developing as we speak.

Give us a look?

No.

The family kept her from him.

Because he was a former convict,

a Fenian agitator, and an enemy of the crown.

Hence my deployment to the case.

So, it's a good thing

you have that photo safe and sound.

Because imagine if you lost it though.

Huh?

They'll be gassing you all right.

Imagine, you would have lost the last picture

of their daughter,

and lied to the DMP about it but I'll head on.

Nancy, would you see the detective out please?

Yes, of course.

Thank you for your time, and if you think of anything,

let me know.

What's that now?

I said call the police.

What happened?

You're not the police, I don't have to tell you anything.

Do you want to be untied?

Do I want? What do you think? Untie me, release me!

Why are you here?

I'm just looking for a stolen camera plate.

It's a picture of a family.

A family where one of them happens to be dead?

No.

The man who ransacked me, he wanted to develop

a picture of his dead wife.

You're an errand boy for Blennerhasset, aren't you?

No.

I don't know who that is, so.

Of course.

He wouldn't be caught dead talking to a Rubinstein.

I don't know a Blennerhasset.

Oh, that's good, then you won't care,

be getting an angry madman arriving to your studio.

What was the name?

The beast.

He didn't know who Blennerhasset was either.

So I gave him a good recommendation

to get his photo developed.

Not that you care, why would you?

You don't know him.

Oy gevalt.

You could have saved us the trouble of searching everywhere.

I'm not telling some loud mouth policeman

that I lost a photograph.

He might tell the Carews.

He might blab.

And I don't want anyone having any leverage over me.

Now, if that's that damned policeman,

you tell him to make an appointment

just like everyone else.

- Yes? - In we go.

Guard you in there, like an old man.

Try anything like that again,

and you'll be wearing my knife as a hat.

Molloy, you came back.

Why's she tied up, and you're not?

She has a tendency to move quickly and be very loud.

You'll do this job for me, and neither of yous

will make any fuss.

Ow.

Oh, Jesus.

And now as you can see, Mr Roth, here

has gone through great lengths to obtain his

dearly departed wife's photograph,

which he stole from me, while I waited for the doctor.

Shouldn't have left the case open.

And under threat of his knife,

and the one he carries in his belt.

I have a knife in my boot.

And the knife in his boot, I will undertake

the development of the photograph

and put this whole matter to rest.

No.

Wait, just wait.

Molloy, let him tie you up.

What else are you going to do?

I'd like to insist...

I insist you head first through the window

if you keep talking.

Mr Roth?

Mr Roth, this man is my assistant.

And as you can see by my predicament,

I need assistance.

So, if you want your job done quickly...

As long as he's quiet,

***

I don't want to see them.

Well, the only photographs I took with Mary

was with her family.

They made her weak,

and made her vulnerable,

and now they get a picture of her, and I don't?

Well, if I can't have a picture with her,

neither can they.

Wait.

Maybe we can arrange a photograph?

What, Molloy?

You going to put your grave digging skills to good use?

No, I meant, maybe there's a way we can take

Mary out the image.

Perhaps we can just cut her out,

and just place her in a case, all on her own.

Right, Mr Blennerhasset?

Well, I would be loathed to compromise the image,

but if that's what you want.

You dig graves?

Yes.

Well, hopefully not for much longer.

And you photograph the dead?

Better than anyone.

Yes.

I want a photograph

of the two of us.

Of the two of who?

Of the two of yous together?

Will you fetch my Mary?

Fetch?

I don't think fetch is a very good...

Molloy, here, dug the very grave

that your Mary lies in.

If you're suggesting that we're going to dig up

that poor woman, instead of just altering a photograph,

you're out of your mind,

you're absolutely, raving mad.

I want to see her.

I want my photograph.

Maybe a light disinterment.

There's no such thing as a light disinterment.

Look, I'm certainly willing to recompense you,

because you would be working for me,

albeit under the threat of violence from Mr Roth here.

So I'm asking you to assist me.

Please?

We're going to need all the help we can get.

Will she be quiet?

Mm-hmm.

Dig up a grave?

Uncle, I knew you were morbid, but this is too much.

That's far from quiet, she is.

Look, Nancy,

this is a very delicate intervention.

Now, if the alarm is going to be raised,

we're going to need you,

to put on a performance,

to distract any intruders

from our activities.

So for now,

please be quiet.

You circle around and be back in an hour.

Now, if you see we've got company, do that whistle.

Not now, man.

When we've got company.

I hear you whistling, and I'll start my lunatic,

bereaved widow act.

Be careful.

Don't damage the casket.

Open it.

No, we have to be very...

Open it, I said.

Mr Roth, I do appreciate you want to see your wife again,

but we are digging a grave in the middle of the night,

so wouldn't it be better to wait until we are

in the safety of the chapel?

All right. Well, hurry it up then.

No, not too much hurry.

We don't want to be dropping the coffin.

We all need to carry the coffin?

Yeah.

Each of us are carrying the coffin.

***

I...

Gently does it.

They wouldn't even bury her with her ring, bastards.

No, no, no. You can't do that.

I want her with me in the picture.

Yes, but Mary must stay in the coffin.

Now, we don't have time to pose her efficiently.

If I don't get my photograph,

this fella will be digging three fresh graves, you hear me?

Did you take this off her?

Oh, no, no, no, no.

It was the father, he refused to have

the photograph taken with that on.

And I forgot I had it.

And then I think, it will be nice if you put it back

to its rightful place.

And then we can take a beautiful photograph,

as long as Mary stays in the coffin.

I thought it was gone.

Well, it's yours again.

Now, so if everyone could cooperate

for the next 20 minutes or so.

And then that means, nobody needs to get

stuck with a knife.

We'll need to get you cleaned up.

I don't have any other clothes, just bits in my luncheon sack.

Well, we'll just have to make do

with what we have, won't we?

The lens must be focused,

very precisely, like so.

Careful.

God bless your souls.

You look very handsome.

Molloy, could you adjust that lamp over there

for me please?

Mr Roth, could you possibly

just adjust Mary's face, there.

That doesn't sound like the whistle

he normally does, maybe he's changed it.

But then again, why would he do that?

You were the one who's supposed to recognise it.

Standing here talking about it quite defeats

the purpose of the whistle.

Did someone alert the rustlers?

Hey, don't blame us, graves dug up,

unholy photo shoots at all hours,

and you think no-one's going to notice

what the hell we're doing?

We'll need a good story to explain this.

You can't smoke in here.

All right, hurry it up.

If they try and take me, I won't go down without a fight.

Well, that's reason enough to stay focused.

OK.

Stay still.

And if you could just...

Uncle, can we please just take the bloody photograph?

Shh.

Come on, lads.

Sir, to begin, we were all kidnapped by a madman.

I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the old lens cap.

You're probably wrong, detective.

That brute chased me down until he got that print

in his grasp.

Now, I suspect that he's taken the plate

to one of my rivals.

I'd say it was that AG Rubinstein.

Now, there's a man that could use some forceful interrogation.

Oh, I will.

And Desmond Roth won't walk the streets of Dublin

very long, don't you worry.

Careful, lads.

Be careful with that coffin.

I'll fetch Carruthers.

Mr Blennerhasset, I was wondering

if I could ask your expertise on a matter?

I don't see why not.

Is it easy to pose the bodies like you do?

For the layman.

Well, I previously worked as a mortician,

so I'm a bit of an advantage there,

I suppose with the right training

it could be reasonable enough to do it.

Why do you ask?

See, there's been a couple of deaths recently

that got me wondering.

The daughter of a judge last week

and a young salesman, and only two days ago.

Suicide, it appears, but the bodies are posed

in the exact same position, with the same wounds.

Queer one.

Yes, well, very tragic.

But alas, suicide is not my area of expertise.

G'day to you, detective.

G'day.

Right.

Leave the coffin to the gravediggers.

That wasn't the whistle we agreed to.

I got caught off guard and I had to give

a more discreet whistle.

There's no such thing as a discreet whistle.

Look, you pay me for one job.

That's the job I do best.

Barely.

Ask for help and he can sleep for Ireland.

This is still what you do, is it?

What?

Use people and then discard them.

So, I assume you're talking about the gravedigger?

I am.

But myself also.

You were the only person in our family that showed

any interest in encouraging my talents in just,

or me as a person.

And then one day you no longer had any use for me.

That was cold.

Wasn't it, uncle?

That was not what it seemed.

Now, I am grateful for your help,

isn't that something?

Is it?

Uncle.

From time to time, I am going to need someone

to help carry my equipment,

and assist me occasionally.

You seem willing to learn, so that's something I suppose.

Thank you for the offer, Mr Blennerhasset.

I'm such an admirer of your work.

I just,

I need to be regarded as more than just a gravedigger.

So, you don't want the job?

No, I do. I really...

That's all I need to hear.

No. Please hear him out, uncle.

I think I've proven myself during that ghastly affair,

that I'm a trustworthy fellow,

and I should be afforded that trust as your assistant,

and not as some filthy errand boy.

Do I have that trust, Mr Blennerhasset?

Yes.

- So? - He said yes.

He said yes because he needs an assistant.

Don't you, uncle?

Yes.

As long as your work is of the highest standard.

Oh, it will be.

Thank you, sir.

Ma'am.

Thank you as ever, Nancy.

It seems I'll have an assistant again.

Well, nothing lasts forever in this business, does it?

Oh, change might do me good.

Bring a bit of life to the place.

Ah...

Apologies.

You shouldn't be here.

I do apologise, Miss, I was looking for the bathroom.

Marvellous party by the way, very entertaining,

lovely people.

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