Original subtitles

I'm going to New York.

For a year?

This isn't goodbye-- it's goodbye for now.

You're taking over from Inspector Wellington?

Just needs to be rubber-stamped.

If we give Phelps the credit,

it could seal his promotion.

If you are to run this agency,

you must, first and foremost, be a businesswoman.

I will not be returning to Paris until you convince me

you understand this.

It's not my fault!

All this is your fault!

Fine, it's my fault!

Are you sure this is the way out?

Not remotely.

I thought you said you'd been here before.

No, I said I'd ridden past it in a carriage.

What is this place?

A good place for a wanted man to hide.

What is this powder?

It's everywhere. They used to make some kind

of chemical here, I can't remember what.

Is it toxic?

That may be the least of our worries.

I'm fairly sure we lost him.

Really? I'm not.

Neither am I.

Will that lock from the inside?

I thought you'd drugged him.

I did, but he's rather large.

It may take some time to have an effect.

Clothing, that was it.

They used to dye clothes here.

There's an interesting story about that...

You're absolutely sure

you gave him that laudanum?

How many times? Yes, I'm sure.

Eliza!

It's not an exact science-- I didn't want to kill him.

Don't worry.

I used to box for County Wicklow.

Well, is that a high standard, or...

Yes, it's a high standard!

Good work.

Thank you, gentlemen, thank you.

But we must also thank Mr. Nash.

He and I apprehended the fugitive together.

That said, we only found him

thanks to your hard work.

And, not only is this

the highest-paid case we've had

since I took charge, but it is also the highest-profile.

As such, I am pleased to say that even more new clients

have engaged our services.

This, in addition to the other cases

we're currently working, will mean

longer days and longer hours, but it will also mean overtime.

Oh.

We're going to be busier

than ever, gentlemen.

Thank you once again.

All of you.

- Well done, Miss Scarlet. - Well done!

It's been our strongest quarter yet.

Eight payments of completion,

six engagements of service,

and that's not including the three

that came in this morning.

The men you've hired are working well.

Yeah, are the overtime payments strictly necessary?

Well, it's good for morale.

And you did say that we could afford it.

We can, just.

He was never this generous with me.

I believe you've cured our Mr. Scrooge.

Or perhaps you were visited

by the ghosts of three dead accountants.

Ho-ho.

Any other business?

Yes.

I've decided to return to Paris

at the end of the week.

Well, you will, of course, be missed, Patrick,

but I appreciate the show of faith.

I'll make your travel arrangements.

I assume it must be first-class, as-- correct. You assume correctly.

You look tired.

Thank you for that. I'm not surprised.

You've been working seven days a week

for the last couple of months.

You need to take the afternoon off.

I have too much work.

Nonsense.

You need some fun.

And I have just the ticket.

Get your things-- we're going to the races.

The races?

Horses-- if we leave now,

we'll get to Epsom for the 2:00 steeplechase.

No-- I don't like gambling.

You are the most natural gambler I've ever met.

And what's the point in earning money

if you can't lose it?

So, it's a bad thing.

I didn't say it was a bad thing,

I just said it wasn't good.

Forgive the pedantry,

but what's the difference?

A bad thing is when you know

for certain it's bad, you have proof.

But if something is not good, it means it might be bad,

but you don't know for sure-- yet.

Right, that makes sense-- I think.

And with Duke gone for the best part of two months now,

it's not good they haven't said who's covering for him.

And the word is, they're looking at someone

from outside the department like that posh boy,

Hudson, from the Irish Branch.

You don't think it'll be Hudson, do you?

God knows-- all I know is,

they ain't given me the nod.

I knew I should've joined the Masons.

Assault with a deadly weapon, retrieval of stolen goods,

and failure to answer a court summons.

And I don't know if you can charge him with this,

but he smells like a cesspit in summer.

You heard anything about that skipper's job from Daddy?

I do wish people would cease to ask me about my father.

No, he has not spoken on it.

In truth, we rarely talk.

There you go, sir.

This Hudson thing is probably just a rumor.

Well, rumor or not, it's bloody frustrating.

Maybe they just don't like you.

Shut your mouth, you-- come with me!

Oliver.

Father, I, I wasn't aware you were coming in today.

Is there somewhere we can talk?

Thank you.

You like this place?

Well, it's a little rough around the edges, but I do.

We tend to come here after a shift.

Well...

I'll make it brief.

While Inspector Wellington is in New York,

we need a suitable candidate to carry on his duties.

We are yet to find said candidate.

Well, Detective Phelps was just saying...

No, I said a suitable candidate.

That does not mean Phelps.

But he acted up the last time Inspector Wellington was away.

Oh, that was for a few days-- this is for a year.

Besides, the job is political now.

Budget reviews, presentations to the Home Office.

Can you imagine a man like Phelps

dealing with government ministers?

Mmm.

No, I want someone who understands the game.

The right man for the job.

We offered it to Hudson in Irish Branch,

but he turned it down.

As did four-- no, five others.

No one wants it.

This damned expansion has turned the job into a poisoned chalice.

Which is why I'm considering you.

Me?

We have not always seen eye to eye.

And, in truth, there have been times

when I would have gladly set you adrift.

However, of late,

my opinion has begun to change.

Has it?

I've followed your progress.

It seems that you have some aptitude

for detective work.

Thank you, Father.

You always lacked ambition,

even as a child.

Nevertheless, this could be a golden opportunity for you,

and I urge you to seize it with both hands.

I have given orders that you are to lead

the next murder investigation that comes in.

Show me you've got what it takes.

We'll talk again.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Whoa.

Well, I call it beginner's luck.

It wasn't luck.

I read today's copy of "Sporting Life" and studied the form.

Racing is about gut instinct and spontaneity.

Where's the fun in studying the form?

Oh, I think it's right here.

Miss Scarlet,

Mr. Nash-- how was the racing?

Successful.

For some of us.

You know, nobody likes a gloater.

Nobody likes a loser.

Right, well, um, this arrived for you shortly after you left.

And the contracts have come through for the Harrison case.

If you'd be so good as to sign.

There are two copies: here and here.

Everything all right, Mr. Nash?

Just ignore him-- he's in a sulk.

And...

Patrick?

Heavenly Father,

bless these gifts,

which we receive from thy bountiful goodness.

Deprive us not of thy kingdom,

but grant that we may feast in fellowship with thee,

for now, and forevermore.

And we give thanks

for thy overflowing generosity,

and endeavor to be truly worthy

of thy kindness.

Amen.

Amen. Amen.

Apologies, Mr. Potts.

I'm a little out of practice when it comes to saying grace.

Well, I've always believed

a simple blessing gives a moment's pause after a long day.

Oh, that's so lovely, Barnabus.

You're so good with words.

Hmm, it's hard not to be when you are my muse.

Um, have you heard from Inspector Wellington recently?

Yes.

I received a letter from him this morning.

He's moved into lodgings near the police precinct

and seems to be settling in well.

I plan to write back to him after dinner.

Ooh! If you do...

I have a rather amusing anecdote

you might wish to include in your correspondence.

About the methanol we received at the mortuary.

You remember, I told you about it?

Perhaps you can tell him yourself on his return.

Oh, no, no, no.

A tale this hilarious cannot wait.

I'm not sure I'd call it hilarious.

You said it was the funniest story you'd ever heard.

It was how you told it to me, Barnabus.

My fear is that Lizzie may not do it justice

by writing it down.

I'll get that.

It was very funny.

Oh.

Detective Fitzroy.

To what do I owe this pleasure? May I come in?

It is a somewhat delicate matter.

Of course.

I'm looking for Mr. Nash, but I've been unable to locate him.

I was hoping he might be here?

I'm afraid not.

Is it something I could help with?

There's been a murder.

The victim was stabbed several times in a street

in Aldgate.

Oh.

Do you wish to engage our services?

Mr. Nash is wanted in connection with the murder.

I have a warrant for his arrest.

What's she doing here?

I invited Miss Scarlet to the scene.

She may be able to shed some light

on the relationship between the victim and Mr. Nash.

What did you say his name was?

We're not entirely sure.

But we know he was in a public house in the area.

The landlord only knew him by his first name, Eamonn.

And what does this have to do with Mr. Nash?

He was in the same pub, asking about this Eamonn fella.

The landlord recognized Nash.

Apparently, he's a regular.

He was in what was described as an agitated state.

A few minutes later, he was seen stood over the body

before running off.

Defense wounds on the arms.

Several shallow cuts to the torso.

It would appear the fatal blow

was directly through the heart.

Thank God you came, Miss Scarlet.

We never would've worked that out.

I've never seen

this man before. Right, off you go, then.

Detective Phelps.

I would remind you

that I am the officer in charge of this investigation.

Yeah?

And why is that, I wonder?

Orders from Daddy.

Has Mr. Nash

ever mentioned the name Eamonn before?

Her boss is a suspect.

Talk about conflict of interest.

Patrick Nash is many things, but he's not a murderer.

Maybe not.

But he was looking for someone right before they were killed,

and he was seen by their dead body,

and then he disappeared.

He hasn't disappeared.

He's not at home, he's not at work,

or any of his usual haunts.

So, where is he, then?

I asked the men.

No one's seen Mr. Nash

since he left the office yesterday.

And this, uh, and the telegram he received,

you didn't see what it said? No.

It did seem to greatly alter his mood.

Hmm, indeed, it did.

Ah.

The police have no surname or address for the dead man.

They think his Christian name is Eamonn?

Does that mean anything to you?

That is a difficult question to answer.

In what way?

Because you're my superior, and I do not wish to lie to you.

Then don't.

Yes, but Mr. Nash owns the company, and I,

I do not wish to betray his confidence.

If he is charged with murder,

then we will both be out of a job.

Well, when you put it that way.

As you know, we have a number of paid informants on our books.

I make all these payments myself,

with the exception of a gentleman named Eamonn Murray.

What is he paid for?

Mr. Nash told me not to inquire, in the most forceful terms.

Well, do you have an address for him, at least?

As I say, Mr. Nash told me not to inquire.

You're a cautious man, Clarence.

You trust no one with the finances, not even Mr. Nash.

I find it hard to believe

that you haven't made it your business

to find out who this man is.

I swear, I do not know who he is.

But I may have once paid a cab driver

to tell me where he took Mr. Nash.

And as such, well,

I may have his address.

You've had a wasted journey, Detective Fitzroy.

We are running most dreadfully behind schedule,

and the postmortem has yet to be carried out.

I was told you would have the coroner's report by now.

I'm afraid Mr. Wormsley's been called away

to the Stepney Mortuary on a multiple drowning.

Things are still in a state of flux.

We are understaffed in many key areas,

including that of forensic examination.

When will he be back?

Not for a number of hours.

I've checked the records office

for Eamonn Murray, he's got no previous.

Never even been arrested.

Anything from the postmortem?

They've not done it yet.

I was just explaining to Detective Fitzroy

that there will be a delay on the said report,

the fault of which should not be laid at our door.

Perhaps you could have a word with the police commissioner

about the disarray Scotland Yard's expansion

has besieged upon us.

Why would I do that?

Well, he's your father, after all.

Careful, Mr. Potts.

He don't like talking about Daddy.

The fact he is my father is quite separate

to my professional relationship with him

as an officer of the law.

Really?

Now, there's a good one-- in fact, it's quite cheered me up.

Apologies, I meant no offense.

Detective Phelps, while we wait for the said report,

I could give you a few observations... You will address me,

Mr. Potts, not Detective Phelps!

I am leading this investigation.

Again, apologies.

Then I'll give you my opinion.

As far as I am aware,

you have no medical qualifications, whatsoever.

You are, in fact, a clerk.

So, I would appreciate

if you kept your opinions to yourself.

Let me know when this postmortem has been carried out

immediately.

He's a sensitive soul.

Indeed.

Clarence.

I do this only because I am concerned for Mr. Nash.

Do what?

Betray his confidence.

I've made further inquiries.

There is one other person that Mr. Nash pays money to,

as with Eamonn Murray.

And that is?

I should not be doing this voluntarily.

Perhaps if you could threaten me in some way?

Very well.

Clarence,

I will dismiss you immediately

unless you give me the information you've discovered.

That's very good.

Yeah, uh, once a month, Mr. Nash makes a payment

to a lady named Margaret Farrel, and that is all I know.

Apart from her address, which you will now give me.

Good afternoon, I, I wonder if you could help.

I'm looking for Margaret Farrel.

So am I, darling.

You're a private detective?

I am.

And your wife may be able to help me locate a missing person.

Can I get you a drink?

No, thank you.

Will Mrs. Farrel be back soon?

I don't know when she'll be back.

So, who is this missing person?

Uh, a business associate of mine.

A Mr. Patrick Nash.

This makes sense now.

You know him?

I'm a fisherman.

Away on the boats most of the time.

The nosey old cow next door told me about someone

who comes and goes when I'm not here.

Patrick something, she said.

So, that's the fella's name, is it, Patrick Nash?

Mr. Farrel, please do not jump to conclusions.

It's hard not to when he's run off with me missus!

Sorry, darling.

It's not your fault.

It's just...

I just want her back.

I do understand,

and I, I know this is difficult for you, but...

What?

You want some?

No, thank you.

The tin just looks familiar, that's all.

A friend of mine used the same brand.

Small world.

Well, hopefully, your wife will be home soon.

If you'll excuse me, I must be going.

If you find her,

you'll let me know, won't you, darling?

Yes, of course.

As soon as you can.

Don't make me come looking for you now.

Mr. Potts.

May I come in?

Miss Scarlet, I believe we'd reached an understanding.

You may only enter these premises

when accompanied by an officer of the law.

I'm meeting Detective Fitzroy about a case.

Eamonn Murray?

The stabbing by the docks?

Yes, I know the case.

And no, Detective Fitzroy has not arrived.

Nor has Mr. Wormsley to do the postmortem.

I tried to explain to Detective Fitzroy earlier

that we were rather under the cosh at the moment,

but he was most rude to me.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that,

but Detective Fitzroy has instructed

that I wait for him inside.

Which I think still honors the spirit of our agreement,

does it not? No, it does not.

Mr. Potts.

Ivy is like a mother to me,

and when the two of you are wed,

you will be, for better or for worse, like a father.

And yet, you still seek to lie, cheat,

and manipulate me, as ever.

Good day, Miss Scarlet!

That woman.

Utterly relentless.

Would try the patience of a saint!

Mr. Potts, please.

Hear me out.

Miss Scarlet.

How on Earth did you... The truth is,

I have no plans to meet Detective Fitzroy.

Ah.

My business partner has gone missing, accused of murder.

I'm convinced he's innocent, but to prove it,

I need information on the corpse

you have in here, and yes,

I know what we agreed.

And, yes, I know my presence irks you so,

but right now, Mr. Potts, beyond anyone else in the world,

it's your informed opinion that I seek.

Oh.

Well, it's...

It's nice to know that someone values my opinion, I suppose.

Hmm.

One question, you say?

Uh, the dead man's teeth-- what condition are they in?

Detective Fitzroy.

Miss Scarlet.

I'm sorry to bother you so late.

I've a question for you.

Go on.

I went to the telegraph office

near Eamonn Murray's lodgings.

It appears he sent a telegram to Mr. Nash saying, "He's back."

Do you know what that could mean?

I don't, I'm afraid.

You look tired, Oliver.

Perhaps pick this up in the morning.

It would be pointless-- I won't sleep.

I must make some progress on this investigation.

My father's made it clear to me that if I do well in this case,

then I'll be promoted,

and I'll fill Inspector Wellington's shoes

while he's on his secondment.

I see.

Please, keep this to yourself.

Charlie Phelps has his suspicions,

and I have enough on my plate as it is.

He won't hear it from me.

And please, let me know if Mr. Nash makes any contact

immediately.

Of course.

I got your message.

Your maid let me in.

Can she be trusted?

She can.

Patrick.

What's going on?

I can't stay long.

I come with only one request.

Leave this alone.

How can I when you fled a murder scene?

I don't have time to explain,

but I need you to trust me and do as I ask.

What did that telegram mean, "He's back?" Who's back?

Eliza...

And where's Maggie Farrel? Somewhere safe.

Safe from her husband?

She doesn't have a husband-- the man you met is dangerous.

Stay away from him.

How do you know who I met?

Have you been following me? Run the business,

concentrate on the cases you have.

Do not try to find me.

I found a brand of chewing tobacco

at the dead man's lodgings.

And, as I'm sure you're aware, chewing tobacco

often causes damage and decay to the tooth and gums,

but Eamonn Murray's teeth were in perfect condition,

not a stain on them.

I, I believe the tobacco belonged to the Irish man

I met at Maggie Farrel's. For your own safety,

stay out of this.

Please.

Chewing tobacco?

It's how we'll find him.

Who?

Bloody hell-- the murderer.

I am your senior officer.

You should not talk to me in that kind of fashion.

What kind of fashion?

It's your tone, Charlie.

My tone? Oh, la-di-da!

Gentlemen.

Eamonn Murray was an informant of Mr. Nash,

as is Maggie Farrel, who is currently missing.

They are linked by a third person.

The Irishman. Finally, he gets it.

Someone matching his description

was seen at Eamonn Murray's lodgings

the day he was killed.

This is key.

It's a brand of chewing tobacco from Norway,

sold in just one shop

in London: a tobacconist near the docks.

The proprietor recently sold several tins

to the crew of a fishing boat from Oslo called the Narvik.

One of their number was not Norwegian.

He was an Irishman who bought three tins,

one of which I found in Eamonn Murray's room.

I'll get down the docks, see if can get the ship's manifest.

That should have the names of everyone on board. No.

You will wait for my command.

No need, Detective Phelps.

I went this morning and got the manifest.

It's a crew of seven, all with Norwegian names,

apart from

a Sean O'Driscoll.

Do you have any idea where we might find him?

All my men have been looking for him,

but so far found nothing.

My guess is that he'd be somewhere near the docks.

There are three pubs near where the ship's docked,

plus a couple of low-rent brothels.

I imagine we'll find one or two sailors there.

I was about to say the same.

Were you?

Detective Phelps, gather ten men

and wait for us outside.

Now, Charlie!

Miss Scarlet, I, I apologize, I just...

I just want this to go well.

Oliver, I'm far from an expert on this,

but from my brief experience of being the one in charge,

losing one's temper rarely serves any purpose.

Inspector Wellington always found a balance

between rebuke and encouragement.

I confess, it does not come naturally to me.

Well, you're not Inspector Wellington.

You're your own person.

You'll find your own way.

Come on, get a move on!

Hurry up!

Any of these?

No, he's not here.

We're looking for a man from a boat called the Narvik.

Norwegian in origin.

But the man we seek is an Irishman

by the name of Sean O'Driscoll.

If any of you know him or any of that crew, speak now.

This is a murder investigation.

If, if you do not cooperate, there will,

there will be consequences!

Any suggestions?

Oh, so you, uh, want my help now?

My old man was in the merchant navy.

30 years, man and boy.

I remember him saying most sailors are only on dry land

for a couple of days at a time.

The ship docks, unloads its cargo,

loads up again, and heads off.

He was always worried he'd pass out drunk somewhere,

and miss his ship leaving,

'cause then they'd give his job to someone else.

And he'd be stranded miles from home, no money,

and no job-- or even worse, he'd be back in London,

and he'd have to go home to me mum.

So...

We could have every one of you held for questioning.

And that could mean days in a cell, maybe longer.

Certainly long enough for someone else to take your job.

Let's try this again.

Do any of you know Sean O'Driscoll?

Were any of you on his boat?

You were on the Narvik?

No-- but he was.

Will you get out of the bloody way, you idiot?!

Get up!

A thank you would be appropriate.

Tell us about Sean O'Driscoll.

He was your shipmate?

When we arrived in London,

myself and the rest of the crew

stayed in a boarding house near the docks.

We assumed that Sean would go home-- he said he lives here.

But instead, he stayed with us.

We shared a room together.

On the second night, he came in late.

He was drunk and angry, his clothes stained with blood.

He told me

if anyone came asking that I had to say

I had been with him all night, and to keep my mouth shut,

or he would kill me.

When was this?

Two nights ago.

The night of the murder.

Is he still at this boarding house?

Keep those rounds secure.

Don't load till I give the order.

And try not to bloody shoot yourselves!

We couldn't find anything on Sean O'Driscoll at first,

but I sent word to the records office in Clerkenwell.

That's him.

It's an old charge sheet from eight years ago.

It belongs to the London City Police,

which is why we didn't have it in our files.

There are numerous petty offenses,

but there's something else.

Warrant for arrest, 1876.

He was a suspect in a murder case,

but look at the victim's name.

Michael Nash.

Patrick's brother.

Clarence, what do you know of Mr. Nash's brother?

Only that he was murdered, and the culprit never caught.

I need to show you something.

There's another safe in my office.

Mr. Nash asked me not to tell you, I really am...

Just tell me what happened.

I was working late.

I stepped out for a few minutes to get something to eat.

When I returned, someone had accessed the safe.

How many hidden safes does one man need?

He keeps his most sensitive documents in there.

Only he and I know of its existence,

which would seem to suggest...

He's been back here.

When you say "sensitive documents," what do you mean?

Money in various different currencies,

details of bank accounts on the continent.

Things he would need

should he ever wish to disappear.

Well, why would he wish to disappear now?

Half of Scotland Yard is looking for Sean O'Driscoll.

Perhaps he's fearful O'Driscoll will get to him first?

Well, Patrick's no coward.

Well, he has his moments.

Go and see if anything else has been taken.

The men are in position.

We'll go in at exactly 11:00.

O'Driscoll's room is on the second floor,

and it's possible he may try to climb out the back, so...

Watch around the back, yeah, I know.

I've got my men there already.

My apologies-- your men.

Charlie, it might benefit us both

if we were on more friendly terms.

You can't be both-- you're either in charge

or your someone's mate, never both.

Well, at least show some gratitude, then.

I saved your life this afternoon,

yet you've offered not one word of thanks.

Do you know how many coppers' lives I've saved?

Or how many have saved mine?

It's a given-- I'd have done the same for you.

Yes, well, even so...

Is that what you want from all this?

Someone to say, "Well done"?

Someone to tell you how clever you are?

'Cause no one did when you were a nipper?

Do the job or don't do the job.

Just don't ask me to tell you what a good boy you are.

Move now, move, move!

What is this place?

A good place for a wanted man to hide.

I thought I was more than clear

about you not getting involved for your own safety.

You didn't seriously think I'd listen to you, did you?

What can I say?

I'm an optimist.

I should've known you were here.

Like you said, it's the perfect place to hide.

Mm, apparently not.

What else have you found out?

I know that Sean O'Driscoll killed your brother.

First, I thought you were running from him.

But then I realized.

You're not hiding from him.

You're hunting him.

You've found him, haven't you?

What have you done, Patrick?

Untie him,

and we'll take him to Scotland Yard.

There were two witnesses to my brother's murder.

One was Maggie, a barmaid

O'Driscoll had taken a shine to.

And the other was Eamonn.

He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And you killed him for it.

I got to know Maggie and Eamonn over the years.

Kept them on the payroll.

The deal was, if he ever came back,

they'd let me know.

Eamonn was as good as his word.

But I got to him too late.

That's why I moved Maggie somewhere safe.

Tell all this to the police.

What's sense is there keeping him here?

So I can put a bullet in his head.

No! Please, don't. No, no, no, no, Patrick, you're not thinking clearly.

I've never had more clarity.

My brother was the sweetest,

kindest soul you could ever meet.

The only family I had left.

And he took him from me!

If you kill him in cold blood,

you are no better than he is.

Get out of my way.

This will be murder, Patrick.

You will hang! Get out of my way!

No, Patrick, please do not do this.

If not for yourself, then for me.

For you?

All my life, I've been told

there are things that I cannot do.

And for all your faults,

and God knows there are many,

you are the only one to ever show any faith in me.

You're not just my business partner.

You're my friend.

You always know

the right thing to say.

It really is most annoying.

So, what happens now?

The hospital have confirmed O'Driscoll is in a bad way,

but he'll live.

The bullet went right through his shoulder.

With O'Driscoll a known killer,

if he intended to stab you with a shard of glass,

an argument can be made for self-defense.

Patrick saved my life.

You'll have to testify

and explain your part in all this.

You should have contacted us when you knew where he was.

But we'll speak of

your good character and cooperation.

Won't we, Detective Phelps?

We will.

But on the matter of kidnap and obstruction of justice,

we can't turn a blind eye.

Nash will be charged,

and if convicted,

he'll be facing some time inside.

You should go home and get some sleep.

Can I see him before I leave?

There you go, miss.

How are you?

I've been better.

My license will be suspended whilst I'm awaiting trial.

I'm afraid the office will have to close.

Hopefully not for long.

Patrick... I know what you're thinking.

What, that you look terrible?

That I'm going to prison for some time.

But you're wrong.

I know several good lawyers.

A couple of High Court judges, too.

There's every chance this will just be

a temporary setback.

We'll be back on course before you know it.

And with my good looks and your brains, well...

You don't believe me, do you?

Tch.

Don't answer that.

What will you do in the meantime?

What I always do.

I'll be fine.

Of that, I have no doubt.

I'm...

Truly sorry. You don't have to apologize.

Mmm, perhaps.

But I want you to think I'm a

good person.

That will never happen, Patrick.

No?

But I'll always keep trying.

The city gets worse and worse.

It took me an age to find a cab.

And why do we have to meet in this bloody place again?

Because I like it.

Well, I won't draw this out any longer than I have to.

My cab is waiting for me.

The job is yours, effective immediately.

When Wellington returns from New York,

he will resume his post.

But you will have had solid experience,

and we can move you on elsewhere.

You'll get a letter with all the details:

salary and so on.

No.

What?

I don't want it.

What do you mean, you don't want it?

I cannot think of a clearer way to express that.

Don't you have any ambition?

In truth,

I'm not entirely sure.

I know I'm happy in my position.

I have much to learn.

Each time, I think you cannot disappoint me more,

and each time, you prove me wrong.

That is your concern, Father, not mine.

I no longer care.

Well, if not you, then who?

God knows we're not spoiled for choice.

There is one man I would recommend.

He is, I believe,

the best man for the job.

So, I'll say it once again for the hard of thinking.

Every file for every active investigation

to be on my desk by 6:00 tonight.

I want it written in something

that resembles the Queen's English.

Right, dismissed.

Not you, Detective Fitzroy.

Thank you.

Was there anything else?

Was there anything else, sir?

Was there anything else, sir?

No-- now bugger off.

Shut the door.

Things haven't quite turned out how I'd hoped.

Sometimes,

I do wonder...

If it's all worth it?

You are a good detective, Eliza, very good.

And whatever happens from here,

you'll find a way to make it work.

You always do.

Goodness!

Those stairs have left me quite puffed.

You mind your back, Barnabus-- you know how it gets.

Oh, heaven.

I'm feeling a slight twinge in my lower vertebrae.

I told you to be careful.

Here, you need help.

Thank you.

Thank you for your help, Clarence.

You really didn't have to.

It's my pleasure.

Well, perhaps not my pleasure.

I've never been one for manual labor.

You have my word, Clarence,

I'll be in touch when I'm back on my feet.

I look forward to it, Miss Scarlet.

Will you be all right?

I have some small savings.

I shall be quite well.

Nothing heavy, Barnabus!

Please don't fuss, my dear.

I want you in one piece.

You should not say such things-- it's not Christian.

Miss Scarlet?

Oh! One moment.

All finished, Mr. Hill?

All done, miss.

It's perfect.

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