Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

02x07 - Big Murderer on Campus
Page 1 of 1

Author:  bunniefuu [ 03/19/09 17:14 ]
Post subject:  02x07 - Big Murderer on Campus

♪ You are my honey, honeysuckle ♪
♪ I am the bee ♪
♪ I'd like to sip the honey sweet ♪
♪ From those red lips, you see ♪

Hurry. She's already started.

Like bloody clockwork.

♪ ...dearly, dearly ♪
♪ And I want you to love me ♪
♪ You are my... ♪


Stand back, sir.

What are you doing shooting bloody arrows in your office?

I thought it less disruptive than gunfire.

Don't be a smartass.

Actually, sir, I'm following up on some reading I've done about Mongol warriors and the effects of ballistic impact.

Your first answer was better.

Now get over to the university and get over there quick.

Ly. Quickly.

His name was Samuel Bennett.

Professor of physics.

He just arrived from England a few months ago to head up the department.

Quite the interesting telescope, hmm?


It would appear the professor was standing near it when he was shot.

The bullet was fired from somewhere in the quad.

Well, sir, this was my thinking.

However, I interviewed several... pe--

Good morning, Detective.

Good morning, Doctor.

I'll just examine the body, shall I?

Yes. Of course.

You were saying, George?

Uh, yes.

I spoke with several people who were in the quad at the time of the shooting.

A dozen set of eyes, yet all swore there was no shooter.

Then it would appear that there is a phantom killer on the loose.

I'll begin the postmortem right away.

I'll let you know the results when I have them.

Thank you, Doctor.


It would appear Professor Bennett was talking on the telephone when he was rudely interrupted.

Let's find out who he was talking to.

Newton believed light to be made of particles.

And while it's obvious to us now that light is the propagation of waves of energy, can anyone think why Newton believed as he did?

Well, a wave needs something to push against, does it not?

That's what makes it a wave.

But what is there to push against in a vacuum?

Therefore the vacuum must contain a massless, invisible substance.

An ether, if you will.

Mr. Gillies and Mr. Perry.

You've been reading ahead, haven't you?

No. It's only logical.

Common sense dictates it.

However they came to it, Mr. Perry and Mr. Gillies are correct.

Maxwell's equations presuppose a universal ether that permeates space.

And we'll be talking about that next week.

Good day, gentlemen.

Professor Godfrey.

Detective William Murdoch.

I'm investigating Professor Bennett's murder.

Uh, I have another class.

Might we continue this conversation while we walk?

Of course.

I understand you were talking to Professor Bennett on the telephone last evening.

How did you know that?

My constable was able to trace the call through the university switchboard.

Only logical, I suppose.

Can you tell me what the two of you were discussing?

Comets, if you must know.

He and I were in somewhat of a competition to see who would be the first to spot the return of a comet Tycho Brahe recorded in 1589.

The switchboard also told me you were speaking to him at 9:00, precisely when Professor Bennett was murdered.

Tell me, how did your conversation end?


Look, Detective, Samuel simply stopped talking.

I didn't know he'd been murdered, obviously.

I only found that out later.

When was that?

Uh, midnight. The dean telephoned.

Did you not find it strange that Professor Bennett ended the conversation so abruptly?

Samuel and I often had heated discussions.

It was nothing for him to simply hang up or quit talking.

He was a petulant sort.

I take it last night was one of those conversations.

It was.

I'll need a full account of your whereabouts last night.

Uh, are you implying that I had something to do with this?

You admit to having a stormy relationship with the deceased.

Good God, man.

I was on the phone in my rooms, talking to the victim!

Isn't that the perfect alibi?

A strange choice of words, Mr. Godfrey.

I have a few other choice words to offer, but I'm late.

Now, good day, sir.

Detective. James Gillies.

Robert Perry.

We were students of Professor Bennett's.

We couldn't help but overhear your conversation.

Professor Godfrey is a prickly one.

However, like all of us, he is terribly upset by Professor Bennett's death.

No doubt.

Nevertheless, you were just doing your job, and Godfrey should have understood that.

Justice requires cooperation.

Please tell me you're not gonna start quoting Locke again.

Gentlemen, I appreciate your vote of confidence, and I will do my best to apprehend Professor Bennett's killer.

Well, we appreciate that.

But there's something else that you should know.

Um, they weren't exactly friends.

No, I know. They clashed on occasion.

It was worse than that.

Professor Godfrey was still bitter.

Bitter? What about?

He was passed over for department head.

In favor of Bennett.

He was recruited from England, you know.

Godfrey was still upset.

Apparently, the board of governors wasn't ready to appoint a Canadian to head up such a complex science.


Thank you, gentlemen. You've been most helpful.

Good luck with your investigation.

Uh, sir, might I have a word?

Yes, George. What is it?

Actually, it's a -- it's a personal matter, sir.

I wonder if your office would be more...

Murdoch! In my office, sharpish.

I'll be with you in a minute, George.

What happened at the university?

I've had a complaint from a Professor Godfrey.

Of course.

He seems to think that you're not up to handling an important case like Bennett's murder.

He wants a more senior officer in charge.

Someone like myself.

Well, sir, I'm sure you're more than capable --

Relax, Murdoch.

I'm not going anywhere near the place.

Those intellectual university types get on my nerves.

Yes. Well, Godfrey was somewhat belligerent.

Perhaps he's protesting too much.

What do you mean?

Apparently, he had a grudge against Professor Bennett.

Something about being passed over as head of department.

Well, it's my understanding he was on the phone at the time of the murder.

Yes. A fact he made very clear.

He referred to it as the perfect alibi.

It's an interesting choice of words.

My thoughts exactly.

Listen, don't take any nonsense of those bloody eggheads, me old mucker.

Show them what Toronto coppers are made of.



Oh, sir, Dr. Ogden has the results... of the Bennett postmortem.

Thank you.

And, sir, that personal matter.

Ah, yes, George. Of course. What is it?

Well, perhaps it's because I'm a bachelor or maybe it's some other reason, but lately I've found myself thinking about family.

You're not considering marriage, are you, George?

Because you haven't mentioned a sweetheart, and to rush into --

No, no, sir, not family like that.


Ah. Yes.

Well, as you know, I haven't much family, so...

But do you ever wish you had them around?

Yes, sometimes.

But, George, why don't you simply visit your family?

Well, sir, it's not that simple.

I've written this advertisement I plan to put in the Toronto Telegram.

Will you read it?

Of course.

"Did you leave your baby at St. James Church in the care of Reverend Lovell on or about March 14, 1867?

Police constable wishes to reunite with his mother."

George, are you a foundling?

I'm afraid so.

But you've often spoken of your family.

Your auntie, your grandmother...

Sir, I was left on the doorstep of a church.

The minister's family took me in.

And, really, they could not have been kinder, but I do have a yearning to find my real mother.

Well, I can understand that.

It's an excellent letter.

Very succinct and to the point.

Oh, thank you, sir.

The bullet entered here.

Then it lodged near the rear of his skull.

Does the bullet's path indicate an angle of entry?

From below.

Ah. Consistent with a gunshot from the quad.

Death was instantaneous.

Have you a bullet?

Yes. I have it here.

Ah. It's from a ri--

It's from a ri--

I'm sorry.


No. Please, you continue.

It's from a rifle.

Yes. Yes, I believe so.


I have a suspect.

A fellow professor of the deceased.

He was also a candidate for chair of the department but wasn't chosen.

Oh. University politics can be quite vicious.

Yes, well, I suspect you've had your share of dealings with the university's intelligentsia.

None whatsoever, actually.

Their school of medicine doesn't accept women.

So I'm afraid you'll have to take on the male bastion alone.

Well, I have Constable Crabtree.

Who I'm sure will bring his unwavering enthusiasm to the task.

Yes. Yes. I'm sure he will.

Perhaps the killer had some sort of disguise on.

Several of the students crossing the quad here were actors in a play.

"Antigone," I believe.

Not that I've seen it.

But they still had their costumes on.

Roman robes.


Yes, that's it. And billowy things they are.

You could hide a rifle under one.

It still doesn't explain why no one saw the actual shooting.

Ah, Mr. Perry, Mr. Gillies.

Detective Murdoch.

How goes your investigation?

Proceeds apace.

Can we help you with something?

Yes. One small question.

You mentioned that Professor Godfrey did not like Professor Bennett, but how did your fellow classmates feel about him?

Oh, everyone loved the professor.

His mind was second to none, and he was witty.

And he was everything that blowhard Godfrey couldn't be.

I see. I see.

Well, thank you very much.


May we be allowed to observe your investigation?

Observe? Quite dull, I should think.

Actually, it might prove an interesting exercise in applied physics.

What do you think, sir?

Show these young toffs how things are done outside the schoolyard?

Something we never see. The classroom's so theoretical.

Oh. Can't see the harm.

Why not?

Right, Professor Bennett was here at his telescope, looking up at the night sky.

Ready when you are, sir.

Right, then, George.

Come forward several paces.

A little further.

Now right.

No, your right.


Sorry, sir. I assumed you meant your right.

I see. So you're determining the trajectory of the bullet.

And by defining two points on the line, you determine all others.

Very Euclidean.


In fact, this is the very method the Romans first used to build straight roads back in 43 A.D.



That's the spot.

So the top of the stake represents the rifle's barrel.

That's right.

But if he was kneeling...

Or if he was a dwarf...

If you took it back a bit further, to about here...

We have one, you know. A dwarf.

He's in the arts program.

I have a thought.

What if we took the line farther back to the cobblestone?


Theoretically, yes.

But the killer would never be all the way down on the ground.

Unless the professor was killed by a reflected bullet.

You're a genius, Robert Perry.

Again, in theory.

Surely the killer would simply face him and shoot him square on.

Good point. You're an idiot, Robert Perry.

Oh, hardly. We're simply applying practical physics.

And it got us nowhere.

On the contrary.

What have you there?

Either our phantom shooter has transformed himself into sand or left us a valuable clue.


Silica, more specifically.

And you found it at the spot where the bullet was fired from?


Seems more than a coincidence. But how does it fit in?

I'm not quite sure yet.

And Godfrey -- Was he involved?

Whoever committed this murder devised a brilliant plan, and Professor Godfrey has a more than capable mind.

Yes. Well, he didn't figure on your brain, did he?

Thank you, sir.

That was meant as a vote of confidence, was it not?

Yes, Murdoch. It was.


Carry on.

Yes, yes.

Now, if you want two roads to meet at a right angle, then you need a groma.

Well, of course.

What's that?

Uh, it's very technical.

There's someone to see me?

Can I help you, ma'am?

Constable Crabtree?

Constable George Crabtree?


E-Excuse me. How very rude.

I-It's just... you're the spitting image of my brother when he was a young man.


Are you my mother?

I believe that I am.

You saw my advertisement?

Oh, it was so well written.

I can tell that you were raised well and -- and looked after properly.

Much more than I could have done.

I was...

Well, I was just a serving girl, and I--

Well, my innocence was taken advantage of.

I didn't have a choice.

But I left you at the church, where they would care for you.

They were a good Christian family.

And look at you now.

All grown like you are.

You're a fine, upstanding young man.

Ah. There you are, George.

Uh, sir.

I would like you to meet my mother.

Emily Richardson.

Sir, I'm pleased to meet you.

Detective William Murdoch. The same.

George and I were just getting reacquainted.


Well, I'm sorry to disrupt, but, George, we do need to get back to the university.

Yes, sir.


Well, I have to go, but we'll meet later...

Of course.


Of course.

Mother seems like a grand woman.


I thought perhaps I would ask her to attend the policemen's games next month.

That would be nice.

And then maybe even take a trip.

Take the boat to Rochester or something of the sort.

George, this isn't really my place, but perhaps you should approach your reunion with caution.

Why, sir?

The woman did abandon you once before.

Well, I believe she had little choice, sir.

I don't think she would do that again.

Just be careful.

Now, to the matter at hand.

We know that the killer fired his shot from that spot.

There were people milling about, yet no one saw anything.

How is that possible?

I'd say he must have been hidden.


But there's nowhere to hide.

Well, sir, perhaps the killer hid in something that was later removed.

A tent or such.

Although I suppose somebody would have noticed that.

Nevertheless, it was something no one found suspicious.

How could they not?

Because... it was something that arrived and stopped on that exact spot on a regular basis, but then left shortly after the killing but before our men arrived.

8:45, George.

And if I'm not mistaken, our answer is arriving now.

We're here every night, all right, 'round about now.

And how long is your cart parked here for?

Well, we unload for about half an hour, and... well, before we leave, I sneak in for a pint or two at the pub.

I need 'em to face that harridan of a wife of mine.

Always looking at me like I was some kind of --

What time do you depart?

Uh, I'm gone from here no later than quarter past 9:00.

Any later, and that harpy...

Uh, may I?

Ah. Yeah.

Thank you. Thank you very much for your time.

So if the killer hid under the cart, how come nobody saw him arrive or leave?

Because the shooter was never here, George.

He wasn't hiding in his hiding place?


The rifle was somehow mounted to the cart's undercarriage.

I'm certain of that.

But then the device's design would require the killer to be someone with an advanced understanding of physics, which all points to someone with a grudge against the victim, Professor Godfrey.

However, that leaves a number of unanswered questions as well.

How did he trigger the device?

How did the killer slip away unnoticed?

I-I really don't know how I can help you.

After all, applied physics is hardly my area of expertise.

Yes, well, nevertheless, it's always been quite useful to have a sounding board.


Unfortunately, I'm in the middle of a rather sensitive --

Just one moment.

Excuse me.

I'm sure if you came back later, I'd be able to...

A devious device, Professor.

Oh, this is absurd.

Prior to your telephone call to Professor Bennett, you attached a firing mechanism, similar to this one, underneath the coal cart.

Then you attached a timing device.

An adaptation of an hourglass.

This is absolutely ridiculous!

On the night of the murder, you set the device in motion.

That gave you time to get back to your rooms, telephone Professor Bennett, and lure him to his telescope, placing him in the exact firing line that you had carefully calibrated.

The rifle went off at exactly 9:00.

The work of a brilliant mind.

It is the product of a deluded imagination.

Who but a physicist could have dreamt up such a scheme, let alone set it into motion with such precision?

I would commend you, sir, if your intent weren't so murderous.

Your commendations would be unfounded.

Your clever little theory is posited on a faulty premise.

That being?

That my phone call was intended to lure Professor Bennett to his telescope.

You said yourself you were discussing comets.

Discussing comets, not looking for them.


The sky was cloudy that night.

You couldn't see the moon, let alone a comet.

And you call yourself a detective.

Constable. You have another visitor.

Who is it?

Well, it's your mother.

Oh, good.

Ooh, he's a good boy, this one.

Oh, I can't believe how much you look like dear ol' Da.


Oh, I'm so sorry I couldn't have raised you proper, but I was just so young!

Constable Crabtree, I'm afraid I'll be needing your assistance on the Bennett case.

Uh, yes. Of course, sir.

I'm sorry, Mother. Uh, important police work.

Y-You get on, dearie.

What's a few more hours after all these years?

U-Uh, son?

Um, might you be able to, uh, spare a dollar?

Just until the end of the week?

Yes. Of course. Of course.


Thank you.

There you go.

Thank you, son.




Sir, why would two women come forth claiming to be my mother?

One of them must be mistaken.

Perhaps, George.

But remember, you do earn a decent wage and have a pension.

I see what you mean, sir.

As I said earlier, proceed with caution.

In the meantime, we have a murder to solve, yes?


I'll need all of the Bennett crime-scene photos immediately.


Thank you.

Right, then. Higher, George.

Could the professor have been lying?

I checked the weather. It was completely overcast.

But that by no means exonerates him.

Now more to the right.

Your right.

So, what was he looking at at the time he was killed?


More, more.

Take a look now.

Sir, it appears the professor was studying a heavenly body after all.

It has to do with Professor Bennett's murder.

We believe he may have been spying on you the night that he was killed.

Yes, I know.

You know?

All the girls knew he was a Peeping Tom, so when I received his note, I thought, "Why not?"


He sent it to me.

Said he would pay me to undress every night at 9:00.

I thought "Well, he's ogling me anyways.

Why not let him help pay my way through school?"

So he was soliciting young ladies, was he, the saucy old bugger?

That he was full of the joys of spring seems to be beyond question, but he didn't write the note.

He didn't?

I've been going over Professor Bennett's lecture journals, and it's not his handwriting.


So someone pays Miss Burchill to undress at precisely 9 p.m., knowing that Bennett will be watching through a telescope, ensuring he'll be in the right place to be shot.

Seems like we're back to Godfrey.

He calls Bennett to chat about comets, ensuring he's got the perfect alibi should anything go wrong.

It's possible.

But I won't know until I have a look at his handwriting as well.

Of course he's my son!

You're lying through your teeth, missus!

A fine young man like George would never have a flea-bitten floozy like you for a mother!

Anyone looking at him would know he couldn't belong to you!

Your face is so ugly, it would make a mule back away from an oat bin!

You strumpet!


Mothers, please!

Oi! Ladies! Ladies!

Although I am profoundly moved by your display of motherly love, please take your dispute outside my station.

Crabtree! Sort this out!

Those are Wislicenus' stereoformulae... for single and double bonds.

I see.

Rather advanced concepts to be teaching your students.

I don't believe in coddling minds.

Now, what might I do for you, Detective?

Why did you pay a young woman to undress for Professor Bennett?

What sort of ridiculous accusation is that?!

It was to ensure that he would be standing at his telescope at precisely 9:00, wasn't it?

Then again, based on everything you've uttered up until this point, should I have expected otherwise?

Do you deny writing this note?


Your script is quite distinctive, particularly the H's.

Another faulty assumption on your part has led you astray, Detective.

That's not my handwriting.

It isn't?

No. It was written by one of my teaching assistants.

You are becoming quite tiresome, Detective.

Your superiors will hear from me again.

Yes, I'm sure they will.

But if it's all the same, whose handwriting is it, then?

Why don't you ask him yourself?

So you don't deny writing this note, Mr. Perry?

It was just a prank.

A prank?

We all knew the professor liked to watch the girls, so we thought we'd have some fun with him.


And do you think it was fun that you specified Miss Burchill remove her clothing at precisely the moment that Professor Bennett was shot?

That -- That's a coincidence.

A coincidence?

That's a rather spectacular one, you'd have to agree.

Well, the meaning of coincidence is utterly subjective and can be evaluated only by the person experiencing it.

And where were you the night of Professor Bennett's murder?

At the pub.

You're quite sure?

Yes. That's right.

Can anyone substantiate this?

Gillies. He was with me.

There were others there, too.

And what was your relationship like with the deceased?

You can't think I had something to do with his death?

Answer the question, Mr. Perry.

I admired him.

It was a privilege to study under him.

And where were you the night before the murder?

Uh, studying.


With Gillies.

Of course.

I believe if there's nothing more, I-I should be allowed to go now.

Yes. For now, Mr. Perry. For now.

Just good pals or something more?

I'd say they're hiding something.


And Godfrey?

The letter all but rules him out as a suspect.

But if it is them, what's their motive?

I thought they liked the victim.

That was my understanding as well.

How did Mr. Perry strike you?


Like he was trying to remember his story.

And Mr. Gillies?

Like a bloody iceberg.

Then I suggest one way to solve this case is by focusing our efforts on Mr. Perry.

And break him with what?

We've got no hard evidence, and his daddy's barristers are probably en route as we speak.

Applied physics.

Even a planet can be moved with the proper leverage.

I just have to find it.

Sir? I'm sorry to interrupt.

Yes, George. What is it?

I'm at my wits' end, sir.

I-I don't know how to determine which of my two mothers is my mother.

It's like the dilemma Samson faced.


Yes, sir. Samson from the Bible.

You mean Solomon, George.

No, sir. Samson.

Two mothers -- They had this little baby, and they asked him to choose which was the rightful mother.

And he suggested cutting the baby in half.

Yes, that's the correct story, but it was Solomon who was the wise king.

Samson had the long hair and Delilah.

I don't see how having long hair would affect his ability to render sound judgment.

You're conflating two different characters, George.

Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on this one, sir.

Indeed we will.

But it is very much like the biblical dilemma, yes.

Which gives me an idea.

Sir, if you're suggesting cutting me in half, we'll have to agree to disagree on that point, also.

No, no, George. There'll be no cutting.

However, I will need you to pay a visit to my tailor.

Doctor. I'm sure you're quite busy.

I wonder if I could have your assistance.

Of course, Detective.

I'm always available to discuss matters of pathology.

That's my job.

Julia, I know that things have become somewhat awkward between us.

But you should know that I have always thought of you as much more than a pathologist.

And I hope that that can continue.

Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying.

How can I help you?

I have a question.

Is this concerning Professor Bennett?

Yes and no.

Why am I here, Detective?

Because I told you I had nothing to do with the professor's murder.

And I believe you, Mr. Perry, but what I need from you is help.


I'm just a police officer.

And the physics involved in this murder are far beyond me.

Very well. How might I assist you?

We must hurry. It's nearing 9:00.

If you would oblige me, please, and look through the telescope.

Very good. Now you'll need the telephone in your hand.

If you would, George, please.

Sir, right away.

Eye on the eyepiece, please, Mr. Perry.

How does it feel?

Knowing your head is in the same spot Professor Bennett's was when he was shot?

Telephone, sir.



Don't just stand there, man! Telephone an ambulance!


I want answers, Mr. Perry, and I want them now.

I had nothing to do with your constable being shot.

I was in the room with you, remember?

Right now, Constable Crabtree is fighting for his life.

He is a colleague of mine.

Do you think I'm going to rest until his assailant is found?

Do you think any police officer in this city will?

Do you have any idea what we do to someone who dares harm one of our own?

This is ridiculous.

I don't know anything about it.

Gillies, right?


Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

You wanted to see me?

Uh, yes.

I was wondering... what was happening with my friend Mr. Perry.

I would think right about now he's probably getting the biggest bollocking of his life.

What I can't understand -- and perhaps you can enlighten me -- is why you chose Constable Crabtree as your target.

How many times do I have to tell you?

Unless you didn't.

Unless the shot wasn't intended for him.

I-I don't understand.

Constable Crabtree stepped between the window and you.

You mean...

I've been looking at this all wrong.

The killer was targeting you.

I wouldn't be too concerned about your pal.

He seems like a sensible sort.

Yes, he is that.

Then he's got nothing to worry about.

If he's not guilty, then no matter what he's threatened with, he's got nothing to fear, right?


Would you like a spot of tea?

That would be lovely.

Who would want to shoot me?

Someone who was worried you might incriminate him.

In what?

You know very well what.

You and Mr. Gillies murdered Professor Bennett.

I have no idea why, but you did it.

We've been through this.

I had nothing to do with his death.

And I'd like to see my barrister now.

Mr. Perry... someone tried to shoot you last night.

And we both know who that was.

I can't help you if you don't let me.

If that's all...

Suit yourself.

I have more important matters to tend to.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

How are you holding up, Robert?

Wait, Robert!

Despite his injuries, Constable Crabtree remains resolute and courageous.

My poor Georgie.

It was a terrible, terrible accident.

What a brave man. Injured in the course of duty.


Good afternoon, ladies.

What's the latest news?

I'm afraid it's not good, Detective Murdoch.

The bullet is lodged in George's spine.


He'll not walk again?

He's paralyzed.

Oh, poor George. Such a good soul.

He deserves better than this.

Indeed he does.

Ladies, put away the hankies.

One of you is a fake, and it's time to end this charade now.

I would think it's obvious who the impostor is.

Well, I'm not the one putting on airs and graces.

Enough from both of you.

A fine, upstanding young man has been severely injured.

Constable Crabtree needs his mother -- his real mother -- to be by his side.

Whatever you hoped to gain from this deception --

Constable Crabtree's pension, his status as an officer of the law -- it all ends now.

A good man needs care for the rest of his life.

Which one of you will go to him?


I'm here, son.

I'm here.

Good morning, gentlemen.

This morning, we have a somewhat unorthodox guest.

Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary.



Professor Godfrey has asked me to address you on matters of applied physics today.

No doubt you are all familiar... with one of these.

You are probably all wondering what this has to do with the study of physics, but I can assure you the act of hanging a man requires a rigorous application of Newtonian principles.

Now, a successful hanging results in the breaking of the neck at the first vertebra.

Can anyone tell me the variables required to determine the amount of force needed to break a neck?


Mr. Gillies?

Force is simply the product of mass times acceleration.


Or in this case, rapid deceleration as the rope snaps taut.

And mass, of course, is represented by the weight of the body.

Um, Mr. Perry.

How much do you weigh, Mr. Perry?

Mr. Perry?

155 pounds.

155 pounds.

Now, using the hangman's calculation, the amount of rope needed to break the neck of a 155-pound man is 9 feet.

Now, can anyone tell me what speed Mr. Perry's body would be traveling as the rope snaps taut at 9 feet?

I-I think this is all in utterly poor taste.

Let's see.

24 feet per second.

Applied physics.

Now, for the second lesson.

In the real world, just as there is no perfect vacuum and no perfect circle, there is no perfect murder.

Isn't that right, Mr. Gillies?

If you say so, sir.

Yet here I am, investigating one.

Now, how does a simple man such as myself go about investigating this perfect murder?

He leaves textbooks behind and uses hard work.

I have a list here.

Anyone care to hazard a guess as to its contents?

Mr. Perry?

I couldn't.

No. Of course not.

Earlier, I determined the components necessary to commit this perfect murder -- things such as screws, wood, metal, rifle shells, et cetera, et cetera.

My men checked every supplier in the city that sold these items, and they compiled a list of everyone who had purchased these items in the past three months.

One name was of particular interest.

Care to guess what that name was, Mr. Perry?

I think this has gone quite far enough.

I wasn't speaking to you, Mr. Gillies.

It's your name, Mr. Perry.

I wonder, how is it possible that a smart young man such as yourself would have bought all of the supplies?

Because as a result, you are now the only person that can be connected to Professor Bennett's murder.

Nonsense. That's just some list.

It means nothing.

I suspect that you were outsmarted... by none other than Mr. Gillies.

Don't listen to him, Robert.

There are only two ways for you to avoid this 9-foot drop, Mr. Perry.

One is to confess your crime and to name your accomplice.

And the other?

Robert, don't.

Shut up, James.

The other is to let your partner silence you, so you can never talk, which he has already tried before.

I did nothing of the sort!

It's up to you, Mr. Perry.

Robert, don't listen to him. You see what he's trying to do.

It wasn't my idea.

Shut up, you fool.

The timing device -- That was his invention.

You bloody coward.

You tried to kill me.

No, I didn't.

Whatever they said, it was a trick.

Unfortunately, he's right, Mr. Perry.


Constable Crabtree, good to see you on your feet again.

Thank you, sir.

But how...

The final lesson in applied physics.

This is a bulletproof vest based on the principles discovered by Mongol warriors in the 13th century.

It's made of silk.

Layer over layer over layer of silk.

And just for good measure, there is a... metal plate that renders the bullet harmless.

All right, you two, on your feet.


Come on, move it.


Professor Godfrey, thank you very much for your cooperation.

I believe I may have underestimated you.

And I you.


Yes. I'd give you an A-minus, I think.


Well, as you've so clearly proven, in the real world, nothing is perfect.

No. No, it isn't.

So the bullet didn't actually bounce off the jacket.

It was stopped by the silk and steel.

Well, I never.

It left a nasty bruise, though.

Well, it was a terrible trick to play on your mother.

Well, you did leave me on a doorstep, even if it was a church.

I hope that in time we can come to truly care for each other, Georgie.

Do you think we can?

I think we could take our time, see how we get on.

That sounds very sensible.

Just what I'd expect from my son, the brave policeman.


How can I help you?

I came by to thank you for your help.

You played an excellent part in the charade.

Well, it was my pleasure to assist Constable Crabtree.

Am I to assume that Mr. Gillies and Mr. Perry will hang?

Well, I'm not so sure.

Their families will hire the best lawyers in the land.

But at the very least, they can look forward to life in prison.

Where they will have plenty of time for their studies.

But what was their motive?

I believe that Mr. Gillies simply had a theory and wanted to test it.

Applied physics.

And Mr. Perry, for whatever reason, went along with him.

How monstrous.


Doctor, there is an exhibit tonight that sounds fascinating.

It's a display of batteries. If you're available.

But I'm sure you're quite busy.

I'm -- I'm afraid so.

Yes, well, I should be getting back to the station myself.

Good day.

Good day.

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