13x14 - Rigid Silence

[bunniefuu]

[MURDOCH]

Right here, driver.

Ah, there's nothing prettier than Kingston in the fall.

It was Canada's capital, you know.

Yes, William, you may have mentioned.

Right then.

Should we stop for lunch?

I know a lovely place from the last time I was here, named after an animal of some sort.

Julia, we shouldn't linger.

We are expected at the prison.

Is every trip with you a busman's holiday?

I thought you wanted to see Kingston with me?

Yes, not just the penitentiary.

Margaret!

I wasn't expecting you.

I tried to telephone but I was disconnected after only one ring.

I don't know what's going on.

The Hello Girls at Bell Telephone have gone on strike.

How do they expect one to live without a telephone?

We've managed for hundreds of years.

Thousands, actually.

Nevertheless, I'm fed up with it.

Well, so far Bell have refused to negotiate.

In fact, they've sent over replacement workers - from the Montreal office.

- Hmm.

I couldn't understand a word the girl was saying.

She was probably speaking French, Margaret.

That is their language.

As a matter of fact, we've been ordered to the picket line to keep the peace.

The strikers are trying to prevent the replacements from getting into the building.

Just get my service back, Thomas.

I haven't been able to catch up with Audrey.

It's a wonder that you've been able to survive.

Now, if you'll excuse me, darling, I have work to do.

Toodle-pip.

[MURDOCH]

I appreciate you allowing us this opportunity, Mr.

Kelleher.

[KELLEHER]

It's not standard procedure, but we're essentially in the same line of work, aren't we?

The prisoner is in solitary confinement at the moment.

Quiet down, you lot.

What happened?

An altercation with one of our guards.

Four days in isolation.

Bread and water alone.

The altercation must have been quite serious?

He called the guard an ignorant oaf.

Frankly, he is.

But we have to follow the rules.

No disrespectful talk to the guards under any circumstances.

Just you, Detective.

Ma'am, this is no place for you.

I think I can handle myself.

Nevertheless.

There's only room for one.

Please remain with our guest.

Thank you for coming.

Chief Constable Giles.

I'm a long way from that now, Murdoch.

I need your help.

There's been a m*rder.

A m*rder?

One of our inmates, a man named Jimmy Donovan, supposedly committed su1c1de.

And you don't believe that to be the case?

His cell was two doors along from mine.

I heard him cry out.

He shouted, 'Stop.

' And then I heard little else.

Not the actions of a man intent on su1c1de.

Indeed.

Donovan was not the suicidal type.

Homicidal would be a better description.

Who do you believe k*lled him?

There is a lot of conflict here between the Catholics and the Ulster men.

And Donovan was Orange to the core.

- You believe a Catholic is responsible?

- It's possible.

Time's up, Detective.

Just one more moment.

Is Deputy Warden Kelleher aware of your suspicions?

No.

No.

The Deputy Warden is a Catholic and there were many complaints that he favours his own.

Kelleher has told me that you are in here because you called a guard an ignorant oaf.

Is that true?

That he's an oaf or that I called him one?

I must have been getting close to the truth of what happened to Donovan.

One of the inmates started a fight with me, but when I attempted to report it to the guard on duty, he said that I had tripped.

You think the guard was in on it?

He was certainly willing to turn a blind eye.

It was then that I may have referred to him in such an unflattering way.

Is there no one else you could have reported this to?

Well, I did speak to another guard.

A man named Boyle.

He seemed sympathetic but I'm sorry gentlemen, I cannot allow you any more time.

- Regulation forbids it.

- Yes, thank you.

Besides all that, how are you faring in here, Chief Constable.

An ex-policeman and a h*m*.

Quite frankly this cell is the safest place that I've been.

But I have no desire to remain here.

Let's go, ladies.

What's going on Higgins?

These women are charged with creating a public disturbance outside of the telephone offices.

Public disturbance my eye.

They had permission to demonstrate.

Here.

And who might you be?

Bertram Flanders, attorney.

I'm here to offer my services to these brave strikers.

How completely un-lawyer-like of you.

The company's strike breakers were trying to provoke these young women to v*olence, which they resisted, I might add.

Shouts were exchanged.

But that is all.

Still, it's their fault that we don't have any telephones.

My Ruthie is going positively out of her mind.

Hardly a long journey for her, Higgins.

Mr.

Maclean from the Toronto World has set up a donation fund.

- So, the public is sympathetic?

- Of course they are, it's a public utility being controlled by a monopoly.

And I've spoken with the Crown Prosecutor.

All charges have been dropped.

Let them out, Higgins.

You're free to go, ladies.

Come on.

Her name is Nomi Johnston.

She is your daughter.

Nomi.

What are you doing here?

I have been working at Bell as a telephone operator.

I joined the strikers.

- I'd better go.

- Wait.

Why should I?

It's clear you have no interest in me.

Please, give me a minute.

I'm free this evening.

That is, if I'm not incarcerated again.

Yeah, I thought that "su1c1de" was suspicious.

But no one wanted to look into it, so I dropped it.

I understand that Mr.

Donovan was an Ulsterman?

He was.

He'd seize any chance he could to provoke one of the Catholics.

Very few of them could resist fighting back.

Did he pick on anyone in particular?

Members of the Clan na Gael.

I've heard of them.

Mostly Irish from America are they not?

Mostly, but some of them moved up here to Canada to make more mischief.

Irish Nationalist be blowed.

They're criminals as far as I'm concerned.

Could you provide us with some names?

[DOOR OPENS]

Mr. Boyle, I believe you're required in the infirmary.

There's an inmate down there complaining of stomach pains.

- He'll require an escort.

- Yes, sir.

What were you asking my guard about?

We were simply making inquiries based on what Mr.

Giles told us.

I see.

Well in future, I would very much like to be apprised as to what it is you intend to do here.

Certainly.

Prison, Detective, is a hotbed of lies and rumours.

Now, if you'll come with me, Warden McNeil would like a word with you two.

Detective Murdoch, I can't tell you how honoured and delighted I am to meet you.

I thought your book was splendid.

I couldn't put it down.

And Dr.

Ogden, I was especially interested in the forensic sciences.

- Thank you.

- I don't know how you solve a case without her?

- I manage.

- On occasion.

Well, I do hope we can expect to see a second book soon.

Oh, well, our plans for a second book are somewhat vague at the moment but our life certainly has no shortage of material.

Of course not.

Well, I imagine that's the reason you're here.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I understand that one of your inmates d*ed here recently, a Jimmy Donovan.

- His death was declared a su1c1de.

- I'm aware of that.

And what can I do for you?

I'd like to see the Donovan post mortem report.

- [WARDEN]

Of course.

- And it would be most helpful if we could speak with some of the prisoners.

I see no good reason why not.

I will leave you in Mr.

Kelleher's capable hands.

You will have his full cooperation.

Perhaps we might see you later for dinner?

My wife will be excited to ask you about that case with the statues.

Thank you, Warden.

That would be very nice.

Oh, and one last thing, I hope I'm not being a bother.

I was wondering if I could trouble you both for an autograph?

Why didn't you let me know you'd arrived here in Toronto?

I told you I was coming.

You never wrote back.

I thought it best to leave well enough alone.

I'm sorry, Nomi.

You have to understand I'm in an awkward position.

Of course I understand, but some sort of communication is always better than silence.

You're absolutely right.

But don't bother yourself.

I have no need to be part of your life.

I'm sorry.

Please sit down.

Please.

Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Kelleher.

I would give it to you whether it was ordered or not.

Ma'am.

Sir.

Mr. Giles.

How are you faring?

I have survived so far.

What did you find out?

I've taken a look at the post mortem report on Mr. Donovan.

His hyoid bone was broken and the bruises on the neck suggest he was asphyxiated with suspenders.

- So he hanged himself.

- Not necessarily.

There were also abrasions on his knuckles and traces of skin under his fingernails.

[MURDOCH]

Meaning he tried to defend himself.

Now, the guard Boyle gave us a list of prisoners names who are affiliated with a group that call themselves the Clan na Gael.

Three of them are familiar to us.

Luke Dillon, John Nolan, and John Walsh.

They attempted to blow up the Welland Canal seven years ago.

Yes, that's them.

The dynamitards they were called.

Luckily they didn't succeed.

Many people would have d*ed if that dam had failed.

It makes sense that fanatical Nationalists may have been involved with Donovan's death.

John Walsh d*ed a few months ago.

Only Dillon and Nolan attended his funeral.

Well, perhaps we'll have a word with them.

Don't expect much information.

These men pride themselves on being silent.

They're not going to betray their associates.

Jimmy Donovan.

Yeah, we knew him.

Bit of trouble that one was.

I understand he k*lled himself.

The circumstances of his death are not yet clear, Mr. Dillon.

Well, after a while this place can turn a man's brain.

- You find ways to pass the time.

- For instance, - one welcomes visitors.

- Then you'll be amenable to speaking with us.

Sure.

Maybe you can write my autobiography?

We believe Mr.

Donovan was m*rder*d.

So an Ulsterman dies and a Catholic must have done it, is that it?

It's not hard to find a m*rder*r in here.

They're plentiful.

But whatever the cause, I find it difficult to summon up grief, let alone the desire to help find out whoever did it.

I've always been curious about the Welland Canal affair.

I was not present when the explosions went off.

You were convicted of organizing the plot.

Indeed.

Well whoever planted the expl*sives was incompetent.

They put the bombs in all the wrong places.

Yes, that's right.

I read an account in the newspaper that suggested someone may have infiltrated the Clan na Gael.

They betrayed the plot.

The British are always trying to infiltrate our association.

They do not succeed.

You're certain of that, even though you had nothing to do with it?

I keep my ear to the ground.

Well then perhaps you heard something about the m*rder in this prison.

Well, if you did, the Warden would be apprised of your cooperation.

It would certainly reflect well on your record.

We can keep it out of your autobiography.

I'll tell you this much certain inmates who are considered trustworthy are given some freedom of movement around the prison.

Not leisure, mind you, God forbid leisure.

But they are permitted to do certain tasks.

Such as?

Laundry delivery.

Clean laundry is picked up at the shed and delivered to the appropriate cell.

We all have our own set of clothes.

Quite a special arrangement.

Almost as good as the Ritz.

And the same person always performs this job?

Usually.

Do you know the name?

Peadar Regan.

If anybody could have got close to Donovan's cell, he could have.

And who does the laundry?

The female inmates, of course.

As it should be.

Is that cooperation enough?

Pardon me, Father, - may I have a word?

- Of course.

We are investigating the death of an Ulsterman within these walls.

Oh dear.

What is the man's name?

Jimmy Donovan.

Did you counsel anyone who may have wished him dead?

I've heard nothing.

- Thank you, Father.

- You're welcome.

Peadar Regan?

I'm Detective William Murdoch.

I've been authorized by the warden to investigate the death of Jimmy Donovan.

What's to investigate?

- He k*lled himself.

- We have reason to believe he was m*rder*d.

[MURDOCH]

You had access to his cell?

That I did.

But I had no reason to k*ll him.

But you did deliver the laundry?

- What's that got to do with it?

- Answer the question.

Did you or did you not deliver laundry to Donovan's cell on the day he d*ed?

[REAGAN]

Not the day he d*ed.

I was under the weather, one of the other men took my shift.

What's his name?

He won't get in trouble will he?

Not if he's innocent.

His name is Kavanagh.

Jamie Kavanagh.

He's in number 10.

[WHISTLES]

Cell 10.

Mr. Kavanagh.

Go and fetch Mr. Kelleher.

I found a note.

It appears to be written in Irish.

I speak some Irish Gaelic.

- My mother's side.

- Can you translate?

"Bronntanas seachadta.

" It means "Gift delivered.

" Are there many Irish speaking inmates that you know of?

All of those who belong to the Clan na Gael.

They consider it a point of honour to communicate in Irish.

"True language of the homeland" and all that.

Julia?

I can't determine the cause of death until I examine him further.

Oh no.

I'm afraid so.

I hold myself responsible for the welfare of these inmates.

Do you think Mr. Kavanagh's death is connected to Mr. Donovan's?

The old rivalries, Catholic versus Protestant?

I don't know.

That's why I considered it the wiser to keep Donovan's death relatively quiet.

I didn't want tensions inflamed.

I've heard you tend to favour Catholic inmates.

Grant them privileges.

Is that true?

I try to redress the imbalance of privilege that exists in our society.

I do not see that as favoritism.

Others might.

Let them think what they want.

Regardless, Detective, I want you to pursue your investigation.

Whether the culprit be Catholic or a Protestant, he must be brought to justice.

Certainly we can agree on that?

Of course.

What have you, Julia?

He ingested a highly corrosive substance.

It's been mixed with a plug of tobacco.

As he chewed, he hit the corrosive, which acted immediately.

It caused his throat to swell and he choked to death.

Any idea what that substance was?

I believe it's lye soap.

There are also scratches on his arm They've healed a little, I'd estimate they were made three days to a week ago.

Which would match the timing of Mr.

Donovan's m*rder.

And the skin beneath his fingernails.

Perhaps Mr. Kavanagh here was who Mr. Donovan was fighting off.

So he k*lled Donovan and someone k*lled him?

So it would seem.

[CHANTING]

Better conditions!

Better pay!

[CHANTING]

Better conditions!

Better pay!

[CHANTING]

Better conditions!

Better pay!

Mr. Flanders, I advise you to go home.

This is a fight you will not win.

This is not my fight, I am only a supporter.

But I do believe the odds are in our favor.

We have right on our side.

Being a telephone operator is the most grueling job I've ever had.

We each look after 80 to 100 lines and deal with as many as 300 calls an hour.

Work is hard.

That's why it's work.

Bell wants to add more hours for less pay.

We cannot survive on these wages.

That's true for plenty of men, as well.

Me, for example.

And those men deserve to be better paid.

Yourself included.

We can't make things right for everyone.

But we can make things right for these women.

Do you really believe they don't deserve better?

[CLEARS THROAT]

Miss Hart.

Inspector.

- May I have a word?

- Of course.

I wanted to explain what you saw yesterday.

I know what it probably looked like, but it wasn't like that at all.

What you choose to do in your private life is none of my concern, Inspector.

The young lady I was with is my daughter.

Really.

I had no idea she was in Toronto.

The truth is I was afraid of how my wife would react if she knew.

That young woman is your own flesh and blood?

That's right.

Her mother was coloured?

Yes.

I didn't even know of Nomi's existence until a year ago.

That must have been hard for her.

Having no father.

I suppose it was.

No suppose about it, Inspector.

I grew up without a father and it was not easy.

What became of him?

He deserted my mother while she was carrying me.

Never to be seen again.

And her?

Let's say life was a struggle.

Well, you seem to have inherited your mother's strength.

Have I?

Perhaps so.

However, I miss the presence of a kind father Like yourself.

How would Kavanagh have obtained that plug of tobacco?

Contraband comes into the prison.

Cocaine, alcohol, tobacco.

Mr. Dillon mentioned the laundry delivery.

Could that be a conduit for contraband here?

That is not unlikely.

It's also a place where we'd expect to find lye soap.

Would the deputy warden know of the passing along of contraband?

Probably, but he is a realist.

I doubt he's worried about a little tobacco.

Unless it's poisoned.

Whoa!

Enough!

Enough!

Back up!

Stop!

We just want decent conditions.

Bloody hell.

Sir, the strikers have done nothing but hold their ground.

- You've changed your tune, Higgins.

- They just want to be paid fairly.

- I can relate, sir.

- Oh, put a sock in it.

Let's sort this out.

Right you lot, move it along.

You'll find these ladies have the legal right to be here.

I said, move along unless you want to see the inside of a cell.

I haven't time to talk.

The man who d*ed ingested tobacco that had been mixed with lye soap.

Just like you use here.

Would you know anything about it?

Good heavens, no.

Why would I?

Who d*ed?

A young man named Jamie Kavanagh.

- Did you know him?

- Of course she didn't.

We aren't allowed to mix with the men.

We understand contraband tobacco moves quite easily around the prison.

Perhaps it was concealed in a laundry bundle.

We do sometimes do pass along a bit of baccy.

And why not?

Where's the harm in it, and we get a little for ourselves.

It makes life a little more bearable.

Just as the lye makes washing easier.

- Doesn't mean we k*lled someone.

- Who else has access to this building?

We leave here at seven o'clock at night.

This shed isn't guarded.

If somebody wanted to get in, it wouldn't be hard.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

How do you explain this, Mrs.

Mulcahy?

Well, that's strange isn't it.

The only way this paper could have been inserted into this shirt dry is if you had done it.

Well, I didn't.

Perhaps it was you, Miss Crowley.

She had nothing to do with it.

It was me.

Sometimes, an inmate will pass me a note to send along to another inmate.

- And what does it say?

- I have no idea.

You don't speak Irish?

Never learned to read.

"f*g an Bealach.

" "Clear the way.

" It's an Irish battle cry.

- This note was found in your clothing.

- Strange.

We know you are a member of the Clan na Gael.

- Is that a crime?

- They have committed many crimes.

Including, we suspect, a m*rder within this prison.

I didn't have nothing to do with nothing.

You know something to do with whatever your people are planning right now.

This message was meant for you.

Your cell number is on the back.

This is a battle cry, Mr. O'Kelly.

And you are implicated in whatever this refers to.

Have you nothing to say?

I do have one thing to say.

Long live Ireland.

You placed this note inside Mr. O'Kelly's clothing.

Did you also write it?

I told you, I can't read.

If someone gave it to you, then who?

Mrs. Mulcahy, we know that you are lying.

If we inform the Warden of what you've been up to here, then you will be removed from laundry duty and confined to your cell.

We never knew who's sent the notes, we just had to put them in the right laundry packet.

Please don't report us.

Birdie's a widow and she has two children waiting for her.

She should never have been sent here in the first place.

She was charged with theft.

I stole a gentleman's gold pocket watch.

My children needed to eat more than he needed to tell time.

You were also charged with as*ault.

He hit me.

So I hit him back.

And my brother got into trouble and I took him in.

The magistrate just assumed I was mixed up in it.

Ladies, please, your crimes are not in question here.

We need to know the names of the men who put you up to this.

Who wrote this note?

Mr. Kavanagh was the one who paid us in tobacco.

- The man who just d*ed?

- Yes.

I must say I'm proud of you, Nomi.

Sticking to your g*ns.

So far Bell shows no sign in yielding.

They won't even talk to us.

You need to be careful.

I've been able to fend for myself and my mother my whole life.

- You needn't be concerned for me.

- Yes, but I am.

I think you should meet the rest of my family.

I'd like you to meet Margaret, my wife.

I'd like that.

Does she know about me?

She only knows I have a daughter.

If the Clan na Gael are communicating a battle cry, we should consider the worst.

An att*ck of some kind?

Mr. Kelleher, if you weren't a Catholic yourself, I'd be very worried for your safety.

I've been quite vigilant since Donovan's death.

Which reminds me.

This were in his cell when he d*ed.

A note.

You made no mention of a note earlier.

I hadn't read the others.

I didn't realize it was important.

Irish again.

What does it say?

It translates to "Expect gift tomorrow.

" - Did he receive anything?

- Not that I know of.

10.

That was the number of Mr. Kavanagh's cell.

Right.

Meaning it was intended for Mr. Kavanagh.

And yet, Mr. Donovan ended up with it.

[JULIA]

Perhaps it led to his death.

He knew too much.

"Expect gift tomorrow.

" "Gift delivered.

" We also found this in Kavanagh's cell.

A match case, hidden under his mattress.

Was he a smoker?

I suspected the same.

But we found no trace of cigarettes or a pipe, only chewing tobacco.

Perhaps he intended to light something else.

You mean a b*mb.

The Clan na Gael may be planning something much bigger than a simple assassination.

- Come in.

- Thank you.

Margaret, what are you doing here?

I was on my way to the butcher's and I thought I'd surprise you.

I should go, excuse me.

No, wait.

Margaret, I'd like you to meet Nomi Johnstone.

How d'you do?

Thomas?

Nomi is, well, oh bloody hell she's my daughter.

Your I thought you said she was in St.

Mary's.

I came to Toronto some time ago.

And you didn't tell me?

I only just found out.

It's very nice to meet you, Nomi.

Now if you'll excuse me.

- Please, let me walk you out - No.

I know the way out.

Mr. Dillon.

We suspect someone in this prison is attempting to build a b*mb.

- Is that so?

- You're an expert in this field.

I don't know anything about it.

- I told you, William.

- Julia.

He didn't even manage to get the canal right - Still, he - And that was with freedom of movement and plenty of resources.

- He has the knowledge - You read the newspaper.

- He's a laughing stock.

- Nonsense!

No?

You blame your underlings for not placing the expl*sives properly, but you're the one who directed them.

I was not involved in the bombing of the Welland Canal.

If I had been, and those laying the dynamite had listened to my instructions I assure you, the canal would have been destroyed.

So you are an expert, then.

You could put it that way.

Then maybe you tried to regain some of your former 'glory' by organizing a similar plot here.

I'm in line to get out of here soon enough.

Unfortunately, if such a plot were to be uncovered, you would be the prime suspect.

And as such, you would never leave this prison.

If someone wanted to make a splash, and they were able to obtain some expl*sives, I suspect they would want to take out a wall.

In order to escape?

Neh other reason.

How large of an expl*sive would one need?

Not very large, if it were packed right.

Maybe the size of a couple bars of soap.

Could be smuggled out in a laundry packet.

You'd better watch where you're going, mister.

What are you fellows up to?

Get out of here copper, or we'll shut your mouth for ya.

- No talking.

You know the rules.

- Guard!

The man just said to be quiet.

We'll need to have every cell searched.

[WHISTLES]

Julia, perhaps you should Why do I bother?

Mr. Giles.

Chief Constable, are you all right?

Regan, he has matches.

They're [expl*si*n]

William.

Stop!

Stop!

Halt!

- Don't move!

- Halt!

Stay where you are!

- Stop!

Lower your g*ns.

- All right men.

Lower your weapons.

We can detain the prisoners.

Nobody move!

Get back inside now!

I believe this belongs to you.

It was used to carry the expl*sive that blew the hole in the wall.

It was given to you by the priest, wasn't it?

His vocation won't protect him from charges of aiding and abetting a dangerous prison break.

[JULIA]

We understand you are married, Mr. Regan, with three young children.

[MURDOCH]

Facilitating the escape of dangerous criminals would extend your sentence considerably.

You had no chance of escaping, Mr. Regan.

You ran right into the open arms of the prison guards.

Bit of a miscalculation, hmm?

Wasn't supposed to be that way.

What happened?

[JULIA]

Perhaps someone knew about your plan, Mr. Regan.

Perhaps you were betrayed.

I've good news, ladies.

Bell has agreed to negotiate if you will return to work.

Why the change of heart?

The replacement girls haven't worked out too well.

There's been pressure from the public to get things back to normal.

Does that mean we'll be paid properly?

It means at least they will return to the table and talk to you.

Stay out here and they won't.

Regan maintains a rigid silence, but one of the others is not so inclined.

He says that it was indeed the visiting priest who gave matches and the Bible to him.

Apparently, the Father is a fanatical Irish Nationalist.

And what of the m*rder of Donovan?

Confirmed it was Kavanagh.

Donovan knew that a break out was planned.

He was k*lled for his silence.

But why was Kavanaugh then m*rder*d?

I was hoping you could provide the answer to that question.

Retaliation perhaps.

Prisoners, you'll find, are not always possessed of the sharpest minds, Doctor.

Regan claimed that something had gone wrong.

Had the guards changed their movements outside?

Certainly not.

Then someone gave them misinformation.

Could someone inside the prison know of the movements outside?

No one is allowed outside at that time of day.

It would be impossible.

The women.

The laundry shed has a clear vantage of that area.

They could have learned the guards' movements.

And then lied to ruin the escape.

Sending them straight into the line of fire.

We believe the priest who provided the prisoners with the dynamite is a relative of yours?

No!

[MURDOCH]

The men were planning an escape.

You aided in facilitating this plan with the passing of notes in the laundry.

There is no point in lying, Miss Crowley.

The prisoners have all been caught and the priest will soon be in custody.

Your part in all of this will come to light.

Why would you do such a thing when you were not even a part of the escape?

I had to it was for the cause, ma'am.

But you sent them to their death.

What?

You clearly knew the movement of the guards.

Yet you gave the prisoners the wrong information.

- [JULIA]

Leading them directly into the guards.

- No I No, I didn't, I It wasn't you.

William?

Miss Crowley handles the washing the clothes.

Mrs. Mulcahy here handles the dry clothing.

And the passing of the contraband.

And has the opportunity to alter the notes.

You can read and write, can't you?

There is nowhere to escape to.

[JULIA]

Why turn on your own people?

Your husband was a nationalist himself.

He was Clan na Gael.

And he was k*lled in a stupid fight.

He was sh*t by one of his own.

And for what?

To hurt good men and women on the other side?

We're all Irish, aren't we?

What good did it do him or his country to die like that?

So you made sure the escape failed?

I wanted them sh*t, the lot of them.

It is what they deserve.

And Mr.

Kavanagh?

Did he deserve to be poisoned with lye in his tobacco?

He found out that I told Donovan about the escape.

He would have ruined my I had to.

Someone has got to stop this senseless slaughter.

Even if a few men die.

Thank you for coming.

Are you back at work?

Yes.

But nothing will change.

Two women collapsed yesterday.

One was exhausted and the other injured by the long distance electric current.

Good Lord.

[NOMI]

But we'll fight on.

I want to apologize for my behavior when I saw you last.

There's no need, you didn't know I was coloured?

[MARGARET]

I didn't.

But truthfully that was not what angered me.

It was my husband I was angry with, not you.

I think he had the best of intentions, Mrs. Brackenreid.

Margaret.

Margaret.

My husband has a history of dishonesty, I am his wife and he still hides things from me.

Perhaps he was afraid you would lose you.

I think he was more worried about that than anything.

How much time do you have left to serve?

Three months.

If I last.

We will do our best to ensure you are properly treated, Mr. Giles.

In fact, we'll see if we can do even better than that.

Thank you.

Thank you.

We were wondering, Warden, if there was anything you could do to help Mr. Giles' situation.

He was brave to do what he did, but he may face repercussions from the other inmates.

Not under my watch he won't.

I'm glad to hear it.

But I wonder if it's possible to remove him from this environment entirely.

I fear for his safety now.

I will contact Brigadier Archibald, the parole man in Ottawa, straight away.

I appreciate that.

I don't want another dead man on my watch.

Margaret.

[MARGARET]

I was nearby.

I thought we could walk home together.

Home.

Are you sure?

It's our home, Thomas.

Even though it may not be the most harmonious one.

Are you coming or not?

[MURDOCH]

Well, I suppose we should make our way to the train station.

[JULIA]

It's a pity it isn't still the capital of Canada.

We have Ottawa.

I'm sorry we didn't get to explore more of Kingston, Julia.

To be honest, William I prefer a busman's holiday.

There's nothing quite like a little m*rder and mayhem.

Train station, please.