08x11 - All That Glitters

[bunniefuu]

(theme music)

It certainly has a unique frame, sir.

I got it from home.

It was a present from the mother-in-law.

All I needed to do was remove the atrocity that was in it.

What is that, sir? Mahogany?

Well, it's certainly one of the more exotic woods.

Yes, it's too dark for teak.

Why are the two of you talking about the frame when it's the painting that merits attention? I think your use of colour is extraordinary.

You needn't flatter me, Doctor, but why exactly do you say so?

With this painting, I see a creative vision taking hold.

You seem to be capturing the essence of the North woods and not just the actual of it.

Brackenreid: Well, it's not half bad for a copper.

I'm curious, sir, why did you use blue and... pink for the trees?

Creative vision, Murdoch, like Dr. Ogden just said.

Oh, and I ran out of the green.

George, look at this one.

He's put a few away already.

Oh. He's coming right for us.

Most drunks head the other way when they see us.

George: He's too pickled to know if he's coming or going.

Well, I'm off duty.

(Man moaning)

Getting an early start today, sir?

Eagle...

What's that?

Eagle?

Eagle...

What?

Eagle... flight.

Sir, are you all right?

Eagle... (man mumbling)

I can't make out what he's trying to say!

I've... been... m*rder*d.

Sir?

Sir?!

He's out cold, George.

He's gone cold, Henry.

He's dead.

We thought he was just three sheets to the wind, sir, then we realized he was trying to tell us something.

I've been m*rder*d.

And then he d*ed.

Right at our feet, sir.

Thank you, Henry. Doctor?

Well, if we can consider the constables' account accurate, he may well have d*ed from a seizure.

"Edward Graham. Surveyor for the Timiskaming and Northern Ontario Railway."

Sir, and his appointment book has a meeting for today at 5 o'clock with C.A.M. at M.D. and A. I have no idea what that could mean.

Alright. Gentlemen, let's notify his next of kin.

♪

I can't imagine it, Detective. He only just arrived home this morning, unexpected at that.

He was so excited, so happy.

I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Graham.

I understand your son was a surveyor.

Yes. He was under contract to the Ontario Government for the new northern railway.

You say his visit was unexpected.

Do you have any idea why he returned to Toronto?

I don't. All he told me was that our fortunes were about to change.

How so?

He didn't say.

He hurried right out to take care of some business.

He returned with a small parcel and put it in his suitcase.

And then what happened?

He was so happy.

He took a drink to celebrate, which surprised me, him knowing I don't approve. I scolded him for that.

Oh, dear Lord, my last words to him were in anger.

Mrs. Graham, what time would this have been?

Around midday, I believe.

Hmm...

Um, I wonder if any of these abbreviations mean something to you.

"M.D. and A."

That could very well be Murphy's Dining and Ale house just down the road. Edward liked to socialize there.

And C.A.M.?

I couldn't say.

Thank you.

Just one final question, Mrs. Graham.

What does "eagle flight" mean to you?

Nothing at all.

(door closing) Detective!

Doctor.

The only physical evidence I've found is a venous congestion of the brain.

I am inclined to believe he may have been poisoned.

Doctor, have you the flask that Mr. Graham had in his possession?

I do.

According to his mother, Mr. Graham took a drink, presumably from this flask.

Whiskey. Approximately one hour prior to collapsing dead on the Station House steps.

There are a number of poisons that could manifest the same way as in Mr. Graham.

I'll endeavour to determine which one was put into his whiskey.

Thank you.

So Graham came here because he knew that he'd been poisoned?

Why didn't he go to the hospital?

Well, sir, if he believed he'd been poisoned, perhaps he wanted to alert the authorities?

What's this "eagle flight"?

The last words that Graham uttered before his death.

You know, Murdoch, that makes perfect sense.

There's a brand of whiskey called Eagle's Flight.

Horrible stuff! He was obviously trying to tell Crabtree how he'd been poisoned.

Sir, I believe you may be right. Hmm!

Oh, well.

Sirs, Mr. Graham's suitcase.

Thank you, George.

It's locked. Do you have a key?

No, sir. Mrs. Graham didn't have the key.

However, if you'll allow me...

Let the dog see the rabbit.

Brackenreid: Thinking of a change of profession?

No, sir. Just trying to hone my skills.

Oh.

I've almost got it there now.

Crabtree, move it.

Sir, I've almost got it.

Move!

There you go.

I softened it up for you.

Hmm... Well, there doesn't seem to be anything of any importance.

Graham's mother did say that he stowed something in here.

Just a moment, sir.

The outer dimensions of the case appear to be much larger than the inner ones.

Sir, a secret compartment, perhaps?

I love a secret compartment.

Not so secret anymore.

A hand-drawn map. Likely of the area Graham had been surveying for the Northern Ontario railway.

Look what we have here.

Sirs, this is what Mr. Graham must have been talking about when he said their "fortunes were going to change."

Or perhaps it was money he was planning to use in his upcoming meeting with C.A.M.

♪

(indistinct conversations)

Edward Graham?

Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

Constabulary? What's this about?

Sir, Mr. Graham is dead.

What?

But I was to have met him here today.

Yes. And you are?

My name is Charles Arthur McCool MP for the Nipissing Region.

C.A.M.

You're a member of Parliament?

Indeed, sir.

(woman): Hurry up, children! This way!

What was Mr. Graham's business with you?

Oh, I do not know. I've never met the man.

But you agreed to a meeting with him?

Well, I knew him by name! He wrote a report that led to a change in the route of the Timiskaming railway.

What was this change?

Well, he proposed that a run due north of North Bay to Dymond instead of along Lake Timiskaming to Haileybury.

And you supported that?

I took his advice!

Were you expecting recompense?

Exactly what are you insinuating?

Sir, Mr. Graham was found with a great deal of money in his possession.

Bribery?! How dare you accuse me of such chicanery?!

I'm simply trying to ascertain the facts.

I will have you know that I have never...

I have never accepted so much as one red cent of dirty money.

Again, what was Mr. Graham's business with you, then?

I am as curious as you, Detective.

I believe the poison was put into the victim's flask.

But any odour and taste is masked by the cheapness of the whiskey.

So you can imagine the difficulty I'm having.

I'd be happy to help. Poisons have always been a particular interest of mine.

Excellent! I ordered a new nest of rats to help with the testing.

When do we start?

Well, they arrive tomorrow.

Do you have a hidden talent I'm unaware of?

I don't, but I know someone who does.

Provincial records show that one Harold Richmond bought great tracts of land in and around Haileybury.

The original proposed terminus for the railway line.

Where might we find this Mr. Richmond?

His residence is listed in Haileybury.

Haileybury is where Mr. Graham had been staying while surveying.

Perhaps they knew one another?

Richmond would have lost a lot of money after Graham changed the proposed routes of the railway. Right then.

Pack your bags. You two are off to Haileybury.

♪

(woman): Watch the trunk!

What have you there, George?

My pillow, sir.

There will be pillows in Haileybury.

Yes, but this is my pillow, sir. I can't sleep a wink without it. I discovered that on our trip to Newfoundland.

You realize we'll be trekking through the woods, George?

Yes, exactly, sir. All the more reason to bring it.

Ah.

All aboard to North Bay and points beyond!

♪ [dramatic build up]

Sir, the only time I've been up this way before was to visit my Aunt Nettle.

Not nearly as exciting as this trip.

George, you do not have an aunt in Haileybury?

Well, not anymore, sir. She moved back to Newfoundland.

Why?

She couldn't stand the mainland, sir. Terrified of moose.

Excuse me. Pardon me.

Pardon the disruption, gentlemen.

Jagger Brown's the name.

Uh, Crabtree, George Crabtree. This is Detective William Murdoch.

A detective. Well, I'll have to mind myself then, mustn't I?

I'm a prospector.

It's not an easy life, but if you know your way around a claim, you can make one heck of a living.

What are you searching for?

Oh, Detective, the true prospector is not out in search of one single substance.

Nay, the prospector roams like the hunter of the plains, waiting until his prey is discovered to strike.

(woman): You're no prospector, you're a damn greenhorn.

Excuse me?

What's a greenhorn?

A gink who thinks he knows something about prospecting.

They shouldn't let the likes of you out of the city.

Excuse me, but regardless of experience, I believe everyone has an equal right to prospect as he wishes, Ma'am.

Don't call me that. The name's Mack.

Oh! My apologies, Mack.

I wonder, when we reach the end of the line, could you direct us to Haileybury?

Yeah, you can tag along.

You haven't said much.

Strong, silent type.

Oh!

I like that in a man.

Well...

(phone ringing)

(Ogden): Inspector, I took the liberty of entering your painting into an amateur competition at the Littlewood Gallery. I'm sure it will be well received. Julia.

Stand down, Doctor.

I see you found my note.

I did, and I forbid it.

I really feel you're overreacting. Your painting is quite lovely.

Any fool can see that my painting doesn't belong on a wall with the likes of these. I mean, look at them!

Even the leaves are perfect!

What does that matter?

You have just as much right to share your efforts with the public. I don't see the harm in it.

The harm, Doctor, is that I will be humiliated.

I wish I could convince you.

Well, you can't.

I couldn't help but overhear.

I must say, I agree with the lady.

Who are you? Are you a painter?

Why, yes. I... I painted this sign right here.

But I'm also a student of art.

Your painting is the best I've seen so far.

Are you having me on?

Not at all.

Yours is the only original of the bunch.

Ogden: That's very nice of you, young man. Unfortunately, the inspector seems to have made up his mind...

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses, Doctor.

Perhaps I should share my efforts with the public.

So you will accept his critique but not mine.

I've always been a big believer in consensus, Doctor.

(man): Yeah, that's fine there.

(men talking)

Sir.

Sir, you've no tie or collar.

No need, George.

This here's our guide.

There aren't enough horses for all of us, but a couple of donkeys should do the trick.

(lively music)

(donkey braying)

There we are. Leave it to the Newfoundlander to catch a fish.

Excellent work, George!

Perhaps you could gut it, sir, as were I caught it.

These ought to sweeten it right up.

Who would have thought you'd find wild parsnips in these parts?

You don't want to be doing that.

What? They're just parsnips.

Those are not parsnips; that's kaagaaiminj.

Kaga... Excuse me?

Kaagaaiminj. That's Algonquin for water hemlock.

Highly poisonous. It can be identified by the vein travelling inward to the notch of the leaf.

You know Algonquin?

Oh, a bit. Enough to trade.

I was a lumberjack a long time ago.

Say, did you happen to guide a man named Edward Graham last Tuesday, travelling from Haileybury to the train?

I guide many people. I don't ask names.

Over here, Georgie. (She spits.)

Let's gut that fish together.

♪

(howling)

Sir!

Sir, do you hear that?

Wolves, George. Miles away.

Miles away?

Mmm-hmm.

Very good.

(twig cracking)

(animal trilling)

Sir, that wasn't miles away, did you hear that?

It's probably raccoons, George.

Raccoons, oh.

Sharp teeth though, sir.

And ornery, raccoons.

(aggressive beastly screaming)

Oh, what was that?!

It's nature, George, nothing more than that. Just nature.

Nature.

Well, I'm not sure I care for it.

(unknown animal scream)

(lively music)

(man): Make sure you get that ready.

(indistinct talking)

(donkey braying)

(indistinct conversations)

Thank you.

I wonder if you happen to know a Mr. Harold Richmond?

Everybody around here knows Richmond.

Keeps me in business.

He frequents the inn?

Regularly. He'll likely be in later, strutting about the place like a peacock.

And another man. Edward Graham, do you know him? Sure. He keeps a room here.

Oh! I'll be needing his key as well.

No.

Sir, Mr. Graham is dead.

I am a police detective investigating his m*rder.

I demand you relinquish that key at once.

You pay his bill, you get his key.

How much does he owe?

26 dollars and 37 cents.

Sir, what if we get caught?

We don't have 26$.

Well, nor do we have the authority to break and enter.

(clicking) Ah.

Excellent work.

Sir, is this surveying equipment?

Yes, George.

The drawer is locked, sir.

That shouldn't be a problem for you, George.

This is all prospecting equipment.

Not uncommon to find in these parts.

(clicking) Got it, sir.

That's odd, it's empty.

I wonder...

What does it mean?

I have no idea.

A code of some sort?

It's possible.

But without knowing the orientation or knowing what these symbols mean, it's impossible to know what Mr. Graham was recording.

Well, sir, that symbol looks like the moon.

And that's the symbol for man. Do you suppose he could have...

No, George. I don't suppose that Mr. Graham had encountered moon men.

Um, I was thinking more along the lines of astronomy or...

Oh.

Either way, sir, it must be important. Otherwise why would he have hid that map in his suitcase and these symbols locked away in a drawer?

Indeed, George. Right.

Lock these away in your room and meet me downstairs.

We need to speak with Harold Richmond.

Sir.

♪

Yes, I knew Graham.

I couldn't stand that bastard and I'm not sorry he's dead.

Why is that?

I staked my fortune on the land all around Haileybury.

The railroad was supposed to end right here so I bought up everything that wasn't on the Indian reservation, then that lunatic Graham had the line rerouted.

Why does that make him a lunatic?

Because it makes no sense.

Look, either Graham was an incompetent surveyor or a lying thief who falsified his reports for his own purposes.

What purposes would those be?

I don't know, but I've hired my own surveyors to find out.

Mr. Richmond, is there anybody who can confirm your whereabouts for Thursday evening past?

No. I was at home.

I haven't been in Toronto in months if you're asking that.

And when did you last see Edward Graham?

I'm not sure, some weeks ago. Are you accusing me of k*lling him?

Did you?

Ha! Of course not.

I didn't get rich by being stupid.

Alright, do you know of anyone else who may have been upset with Mr. Graham?

He would know.

It's Frank Gowdy. He was Graham's assistant.

Dead?

Dear Lord! How?

This's what we're trying to ascertain.

Do you have any idea why Mr. Graham traveled to Toronto earlier this week?

He didn't say.

He left quite suddenly. I assumed it was a personal matter. He had family in the city.

Did he have any enemies you know of?

Haha! More than a few.

A lot of people were counting on that railway coming through.

Any of them that may have wished him dead?

Harold Richmond, I'm sure.

And there was a woman that he used to, uh... see.

Terribly jealous. Mad as a wildcat when he left her.

She even followed him down to Toronto.

But she lives here?

She's drinking right there at the end of the bar.

There he is.

My big, strong copper.

Miss... Mack.

I wasn't talking about you.

I understand that you were in an intimate relationship with Mr. Graham.

So?

Well, I regret to inform you that Mr. Graham was recently found dead. m*rder*d.

Well, uh...

I didn't do it.

So, George, what about a drink?

You were in Toronto.

No flies on you, eh?

We were on the train together.

I also understand that Mr. Graham had recently parted ways with you.

I don't know what you heard, but I parted ways with him. And none too soon.

George, a drink?

Perhaps another time... Mack.

Sir, her manners could use some refinement to be sure, but do you think she actually k*lled the man?

She did not seem at all seem surprised at the news of Mr. Graham's m*rder.

And George, poison is traditionally a woman's w*apon.

Excuse me, would I be able to borrow this board?

You will be bring it back?

Yes.

(indistinct chatter)

(rats squeaking)

Even a small drop of the liquid from Graham's flask was enough to k*ll this rat.

There's no burning of the mucous membranes, so we can rule out arsenic, cyanide, strychnine.

I activated carbon I made from ground nutshells and gave it to this rat.

He's still alive.

So the poison is not a strong acid.

We should also rule out alkali, iron... lithium, ethanol and the like... leaving us with a multitude of plant-based poisons to consider.

The rat is still in metabolic acidosis.

Have you considered treating it with an antidote of sodium bicarbonate?

Of course.

If the rat responds, it would narrow down the type of plant.

Thank you.

Come here, little fella. Let's see if we can make you better.

Harold Richmond admits to wanting Edward Graham dead.

He would have lost a potential fortune with the rerouting of the railway.

Mr. Gowdy?

No apparent motive, although he did have had the most access to Mr. Graham's flask.

And the woman, Mack, sir, she was in Toronto.

And jealousy is a powerful motive.

Indeed, George. Let's hope Dr. Grace is having some luck identifying the poison.

Once we discover what k*lled Mr. Graham, we'll be in a better position to discover who k*lled him.

Sir, I wonder if we could continue this tomorrow.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course, George.

It'll be good to sleep with a roof over one's head.

I didn't catch a wink last night.

The pillow didn't help?

♪

(sigh)

Hello there, Constable.

You said, "perhaps another time."

Well, that time has come.

Oh my.

(shaking doorknob)

George?

Ah! Uh... one moment.

(sighing) Sir, thank God it's just you.

Who were you expecting?

Sir, that woman Mack has been trying to seduce me.

I found her there in my bed when I got back to my room last night.

Oh.

Sir, I escorted her out directly, make no doubt about it.

She broke in here, George?

Sir, it was quite unexpected. I realize that women find me quite the catch, but that is no way to win a man.

George, is it possible that she was after something else?

Sir, I'm not making it up. I found her right there in my bed. I've spent the whole night in a chair against the door! I didn't catch a wink!

George, she went to the trouble of breaking the door.

Is it possible that her motives may have extended beyond the charms of one George Crabtree?

Oh no! Oh no!

Oh, sir...

Graham's papers are gone.

No.

(rat squeaking)

It appears our little friend's breathing has improved.

Well, that narrows our search.

It would likely be among one of the poisonous plants that grow here in Ontario.

What about wolfsbane?

No. That would have caused asphyxia.

White baneberry?

The symptoms fit, but it's the fruit that's poisonous, and it's out of season.

"Conium Heculatum."

No. No, it's not hemlock.

But Cicuta Maculata!

Water hemlock.

"Difficulty breathing. Convulsions."

That matches the symptoms.

Emily, I daresay we've found our poison.

Thank you, Julia.

My pleasure.

I will telegraph the detective immediately.

Ah, Doctor! There you are.

Is something the matter?

Oh, on the contrary.

My painting is about to be judged later today.

I was wondering if you would come with me.

I should be honoured.

Ha.

(men laughing and talking)

Where is the map?

What map?

The map you stole from Constable Crabtree's room!

What?!

You were in Toronto when Graham d*ed.

You were alone in Constable Crabtree's room.

You are, at the moment, our prime suspect.

George's door was open.

I thought it was an invitation.

George: Sir, I assure you, it was firmly locked.

It was open, I swear.

Whatever you may think, I don't normally have to force myself into a man's bed.

If you didn't open the room, then who did?

I passed the greenhorn in the hallway on the way up to George's room.

Jagger Brown?

Mr. Brown, the Detective would like to have a word with you.

Certainly. Um...

Ugh!

No! My money! Money! Money!

(yelling) Come on!

Gimme that!

Gimme my money! Gimme my money!

Ruffians! Get off, my friends! Gimme!

Mine! I got it!

That money belongs to me!

George.

Let go!

Hey!

Gowdy: Ha!

(man): That's my money!

All right, all right, all right! All right!

Where are the maps you stole?

What maps?

Empty your pockets, Mr. Brown.

What?

They're gone. Where could they have gone?

No, wait, wait. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

(indistinct conversations)

Roses in a vase. Seen that before.

Yes. But there's no denying it was painted by a capable hand.

These are quite good, I suppose.

I rather like this one.

This one?! It's all just lines!

Not even a tree in sight.

Where's my painting?

Perhaps it's been moved.

You there, what's happened to my work?

Did no one from the gallery inform you? It's been stolen, I'm sorry to say.

Stolen?!

How the bloody hell did that happen? How many other paintings were taken?

Only yours.

I suppose it could be taken as a compliment.

I always said it was the best in the show.

A thief with good taste is a thief nonetheless.

I'll get Worsley onto it.

Do you suppose I'm still eligible for the $10 prize?

You have yet to provide a satisfactory explanation for all of the money in your briefcase, Mr. Gowdy.

My affairs are none of your business.

Perhaps as the new lead surveyor, you required a healthy bribe from Mr. Richmond to return the railway here.

I did not require a bribe to return the railway to its correct path.

Mr. Richmond's contribution was an added bonus.

You were going to redirect the railway here regardless?

Of course. I don't know why Graham was so intent on moving it. His plans made no sense.

He even falsified our surveys to support his proposed route.

Did you confront him about this?

I've only just discovered it since going through his files.

I have no idea why he did it.

George: Sir.

Thank you, Mr. Gowdy.

I would like to speak with you further about this.

At your service.

Sir, Mr. Brown here claims the maps are gone.

He says they must have been stolen in the kerfuffle just now.

In any case, they're not on him.

Brown: Not that I could make heads nor tails of them anyway.

Good luck to whoever's got them.

Thank you.

Mr. Brown, you were acquainted with Mr. Graham, were you not?

Never met the man.

I beg to differ.

Beg all you want.

I didn't know him and you can't prove it.

This telegram proves otherwise.

You were seen with Mr. Graham in Toronto.

Seen?! Who saw me?

You were seen!

And Mr. Brown, you know nothing about prospecting.

What are you doing here?

How did you know Mr. Graham's maps were important?

I was in the assayer's office working the books when he came in.

Graham?

Yes. He had a nugget. It must have been the size of his fist.

I only stole the map. I didn't m*rder anyone.

A nugget? Nugget of what?

Silver, Detective.

Silver?

He told the assayer there was plenty more where that came from.

I knew it had to be around here somewhere.

Right, Mr. Brown, thank you. You're free to go.

Sir? I have to admit some confusion.

Dr. Grace's telegram ascertains that Mr. Graham was indeed poisoned by water hemlock.

Sir, how does that prove that Jagger Brown was seen with Graham in Toronto?

It doesn't, George. The telegram makes no mention of Mr. Brown.

But you just...

Sir, you were bluffing!

I was prospecting, George.

At any rate, Dr. Grace's findings prove that Mr. Brown could not be the m*rder*r.

How so?

You don't want to be doing that.

What? They're just parsnips.

He was going to feed us all water hemlock.

He didn't know it was poisonous.

No. But everyone else here does.

So, Mr. Graham rerouted the railway to protect his silver find.

Then why meet with a politician in Toronto?

Surely, if he had falsified surveys, that would be enough for the government to comply with his recommendation.

I think it has something to do with the Native reservation, George.

George: A bribe, sir?

Perhaps he bribed a member of Parliament to seize Indian land?

So he could lay claim to it himself?

Which would mean that there is silver somewhere on the current reservation.

Which means whoever has the maps knows about the silver and where to find it.

And they're one step ahead of us.

Excuse me, may I see this?

But... you haven't given me my chalkboard back yet.

Sir, I... we are police officers.

We will bring back your chalkboard.

The symbols, George. The crescent moon.

Silver.

♪

There.

The northernmost point of Long Lake.

Thank you.

Ah, Doctor.

I was just thinking which of my other paintings are good enough to be stolen. Ha! Ha!

The gallery found this.

My painting.

It seems the thieves discarded it in the alley.

Oh, they stole it for the fancy frame.

It appears so, but the painting can be salvaged.

I know someone who cleans canvases. he might be able to help.

Forget it.

Bloody thieves were right.

What's the point in salvaging something that has no worth?

Inspector, I...

Thank you, Doctor.

Now, if you don't mind, I have quite a bit of work to be getting on with.

♪

(sighing)

(birds singing)

Sir, how do you know which way we should be headed?

Well, George, the bottom tip of the crescent moon was just north of the top edge of Long Lake.

Yes but, sir, how do we know the silver is not right in the middle of it? Or at the top of it?

That's a good point, George. We'll have to explore the entire area.

(sigh)

Sir!

Look at that.

Could that be silver?

I believe it is, George.

Look at this.

It's a carved inscription.

"Edward Graham, The 5th of August, 1902."

Graham staked a claim here.

There should be 4 more of these outlining the claim in its entirety. But they would be on stumps still in the ground.

Sir, stumps like this one, sir.

But it's not his name.

"M. McCarthy." Mack.

"September 7, 1902."

Edward Graham staked this claim, and then, Mack... put her name ahead of his.

George: She was trying to jump his claim.

Yes, George, I believe Mack k*lled Edward Graham.

Sir....

I believe you're right.

I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I have to protect my claim.

Edward Graham's claim has no legitimacy, neither will yours. This is Indian land.

Once the Government sees that there's silver here, they'll see to it that this land becomes fair game, and I will become a very rich woman.

So of course, you understand why I have to do this.

No!

Sir!

(Mack cocking her g*n)

I don't suppose you want to share my wealth?

Oh, well. I'm so sorry but I have to sh**t you too.

(g*nsh*t)

(Mack moaning)

Sir, are you all right?

George?

Sir, are you alright? (Murdoch groaning)

The medicine woman here took the b*llet out of your shoulder.

You've been in delirium, in and out, but you're past the worst of it.

They've been very good to us here sir.

This man saved your life.

Thank you.

Thank you.

_

_

_

_

Migizi Pimise.

It's your name? In English, it means Eagle Flight, doesn't it?

You know the properties of water hemlock.

You poisoned Mr. Graham's flask when you guided him to the train.

Am I speaking the truth?

Why?

Silver. If people found out, then we would...

You would lose your home.

Can you deny that you won't take it away?

Can you deny we won't be removed from our land?

I... I... I can't. But that's not what's at issue here.

Go home.

No!

Sir.

Gentlemen, please don't, don't.

Then, you will die here, your bodies never found, both of you.

Others will come for us.

We will run.

And they will chase you!

Migizi Pimise, you... you are under arrest for the m*rder of Edward Graham.

Sir, they saved our lives!

You have no authority here.

This is not your world.

We do not follow your laws.

Yes, you do. Yes you do, and you are coming with me.

Will you add our 2 lives to your conscience?

I am protecting my birthright.

And I am doing my duty.

As I had to try and do mine.

Go while you still have your lives.

George...

I don't...

Sir.

I don't...

Sir!

(Murdoch coughing)

(knocking) Inspector Brackenreid?

Oh, hello.

What can I do for you?

I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you might sell me your painting from the exhibition.

Sell it to you?

If you would.

I'd like to try my hand at the canvas.

Not to paint pale imitations of the natural world, but rather to paint its essences as you do.

I'd be prepared to pay.

Oh... Oh well, I'm flattered, but it's not for sale.

I'm thinking of reentering it in the next exhibition.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Hold your horses, hold your horses.

The prize money was $10. It's yours for 15.

15?

Take it or leave it.

Alright.

15. Wise choice. Mr...?

Thomson. Tom Thomson.

Ah, well, Mr. Thomson, I hope I can provide some inspiration.

Good day.

Good day to you too.

(Brackenreid laughing)

Bloody fool!

Inspector.

Mrs. Brackenreid is on the telephone.

Something about a missing picture frame.

Oh... Oh, bloody hell.

Thank you.

Migizi Pimise turned himself in yesterday.

I suppose he knew someone would come looking for him.

And the people he was with?

They moved further north.

It won't go well for them, will it?

The silver will draw prospectors like moths to a flame.

Migizi Pimise started a fight he couldn't possibly hope to win.

But surely, they have a treaty that will protect them.

Let's get you to bed.

Our government is made of men of good conscience.

Let's hope they honour it.