02x10 - Murdoch.com

Am I interrupting?

Oh. Enid.

Mrs. Jones. Of course not.

I-I brought flowers.

For your office.

Well, you certainly didn't need to do that.

They're blue salvias.

I thought they might add a feminine touch.

Well, um...

They certainly will.

You forgot, didn't you?

Forgot?

Our walk.

Oh.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I got wrapped up in work.

An--

Never mind all that. A walk would be lovely.

Oh, my.

That doesn't sound good, does it?

No. No, it doesn't.

There! That tone! I will not take that tone!

George, is everything all right?

Sir. It's Mrs. Brackenreid.

She stopped by to have a word with the inspector.

Apparently, he's been very surly of late.

More than usual?

Mm. She seems to think it has to do with his drinking.

George, have you been eavesdropping?

It's not very difficult.

Besides, I have remarkable hearing.

I won't stand for lies, Thomas, if you are drinking again.

Have you smelled it on my breath, Margaret?

Have you seen me swallow as much as a drop of alcohol?

No, but the Temperance League says there are other signs.

There you go again with the Temperance League.

Led by the notorious convicted murderer Levi Beecher, no less.

And there you go again, throwing it in my face.

At least they're making an effort.

You don't like my drinking, my mood, my job.

For Christ's sakes, woman, what do you like about me?

I don't know anymore.

Well, that's bleeding honest of you.

I think it's best that you don't come home.

I'll send some of your things around.

Good day, Detective.

Mrs. Brackenreid.

Crabtree, have you got that station report?

Uh, just a few moments, sir.

I don't want any bloody excuses!

Uh, sir, word's just come in. A body's been found.

Murdoch, you take that.

Well, what are you all gauping at?!

I'm afraid our walk will have to wait.

Perhaps later?

It's a date.

And I can assure you, this time I will not forget.

George.

Sir.

Apparently, this chap walking his dog discovered the body.

There's nothing identifying on her person.

Hm.

Very remote area.

I wonder what she was doing here.

Well, It would seem, sir, she wanted to be alone, to take her own life.

I'm not so sure about that, George.

Those lacerations to her wrist seem quite deep for a suicide.

And further, they're even and steady.

If these wounds were self-inflicted, they would be far more jagged.

Murder, then?

So it would seem.

There's no sign of a struggle.

The question is, why would this young woman let someone cut her wrists?

I agree with your observations, Detective.

These wounds were not self-inflicted.

Whoever did this to her was methodical and cold.

But why would she not struggle?

There is light bruising on her neck, suggesting she was choked.

Not long enough to kill her --

But long enough to render her unconscious.

I'll deliver a full report to the station.

When you come, I wonder if you might do me a favor.

I'm not sure what my schedule is like.

It's not for me personally.

Inspector Brackenreid's behavior has been a bit odd as of late.

I wonder if you could give your opinion.

Well, yes, of course.

Oh. This is interesting.

This woman has a callus on her right index finger.

I think she was a telegraph operator.

Oh. Why would you think that?

Enid...

Mrs. Jones has a similar callus on her index finger from repeatedly tapping out code.

Ah. I see.

Lucky for us that you know her so well.

Mr. Ryder, Great North Western is the fifth telegraph company I've checked with.

I was hoping you might be able to tell me the identity of this young woman.

Oh, no. This is -- This is Veronica Williams.

She missed her shift today.

Williams.

She was found murdered this morning.

Miss Williams was a lovely girl.

Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?

No. Sorry.

I don't know if this means anything, but she was a little out of sorts last week.

Oh? Do you have any idea what might have been troubling her?

Not at all. But Miss Tipton might.

They were friends.

Beth.

Yes, Mr. Ryder.

Beth Tipton, this is Detective Murdoch.

Miss Tipton.

I take it you knew Veronica Williams.

Of course. Ronnie's a dear.

Something wrong?

You have to forgive me.

We'd become quite close.

I understand something had been troubling Miss Williams recently.

This is a bit awkward, Detective.

You can be assured of my discretion.

Ronnie was corresponding with someone on the telegraph lines.

A man.

Do you know who he was?

No. But I know he made her happy.

At first.

At first?

Ronnie mentioned that they'd had a disagreement.

Do you know what it was about?

I don't know.

Ronnie was quite private.

But all incoming messages are automatically printed off and put on file.

I could get Ronnie's if you'd like.

Well, that would be most appreciated.

Crabtree. A word.

I suppose you heard the missus carrying on this morning.

Well, for the most part, sir, I only heard you.

I have remarkably good hearing.

Then you'll know that I've been abstaining from alcohol.

That's very admirable, sir.

Yes. Well, it has been difficult.

Soto ease the burden, I've been prescribed a Gold Cure.

That sounds very exotic.

Bloody expensive is what it is.

Usually I have it delivered to the house.

But no doubt, you'll be having it delivered here.

Precisely.

So as soon as it arrives, I want you to bring it to me.

Sir, consider it in your hands.

And, Crabtree, keep this under your hat.

This is just between you and me. Understood?

Understood, sir.

Good lad.

Ah, sir, might I have a word about the Williams case?

What of it?

Well, sir, it seems the victim was quite upset about something that occurred over the telegraph lines.

So find out what it was.

Well, it's not that simple.

You see, I have all of her correspondence.

Unfortunately, it's written in Morse code.

It could take days to decipher.

Well, that won't do, will it?

No, sir.

That's why I was thinking of bringing in a telegrapher to assist me.

Fine, Murdoch.

Do you have someone in mind, or do you want me to figure that one out for you as well?

No, sir. I have someone in... mind.

These messages are so personal.

I-It's like I'm snooping through her diary.

It could help to capture a killer.

I'm not even sure that I belong here.

I haven't worked at Great North Western in some time.

Enid, I know you've kept up your codes and telegraphy skills.

But more importantly, I trust you.

And that's a tremendous help.

It is?

Well, it might be fascinating to see you at work.

Shall we start with this one?

This one.

Oh, bloody hell. Go away!

Inspector, are you all right?

Oh, Doctor.

Uh, is there something I can do for you?

I've finished the postmortem on Veronica Williams.

I thought you'd want the results right away.

Give it to Murdoch.

Inspector, are you sure you're all right?

If not, my morgue is always open.

Doctor, your attempts at humor are always charming.

And thank you for your offer, but, no, thank you.

Now, goodbye.

"How the attentions... of such a charming creature could be directed to me, I know not.

Signed A.K."

This fellow is quite the slick wordsmith.

I might need to make note of his prose.

Oh, here's another one.

"I would yield everything... just to have the means to see your face just once.

Signed A.K."

Clearly, whoever this A.K. is, he and Miss Williams were having a love affair.

Over the telegraph wires?

It's surprisingly common.

Really?

Telegraphy can be quite lonely.

To pass the time, telegraphers will chitchat and gossip over the wire.

Some even play games, like checkers or chess.

And some, like Miss Williams, form romantic attachments.

But wouldn't an affair be the talk of the office?

No. Not at all.

If I could just draw you a diagram, it'd be easier for me to explain.

Yes. Of course.

Well... it's similar to the spokes on a bicycle.

Telegraph signals travel over many different lines, but they intersect at very few hubs.

Forming a network of communication.

Yes.

And telegraphers can listen in to as many different transmissions as they like, from anywhere.

Or participate in them.

Well, then how can we find this A.K.?

I mean, look at this. It's -- It's a web.

He could be anywhere in the city.

For that matter, this could be worldwide.

Fortunately, while every single transmission is sent in Morse code, each company has their own unique code.

It's for reasons of privacy.

So, would this A.K. have used one of those unique codes?

He most certainly did.

Ah. So, what company was involved?

I'm sorry, Detective. No one here has the initials A.K.

Are you sure?

Quite.

However, there was a K.A.

Kingsley Adams.

But I had to terminate his employment about four weeks ago.

Oh? For what reason?

I caught him socializing over the lines.

George, I'll need you to locate this Kingsley Adams immediately.

I'll get the men on it, sir.

Mr. Ryder, I'll need to examine all of the incoming messages sent to Mr. Adams.

What's so funny, lads?

Oh, nothing at all, sir.

Nothing at all.

Do you expect me to believe that?

We're just having a laugh, sir.

Oh, I bet you were.

I bet you thought it was quite funny, my wife coming here and carrying on like she did.

No, sir. Nobody found that funny at all.

You're probably taking her side. Thinking that I drink too much.

Sir, that's your private affair. We would never.

She doesn't appreciate all that I do for her.

She thinks I'm useless.

Oh, sir, I'm sure she didn't mean that.

Eh?

What do you know about it, Crabtree?

Have you been speaking to my wife?

No, sir. Of course not.

If I find that any of you lot has been speaking to my wife... behind my back --

Sir.

I swear to you, no one here has spoken to your wife.

Of course not.

Carry on, lads.

You're all so serious.

If he carries on like that, there'll be a mutiny for sure.

George.

Have we any information on Mr. Adams' whereabouts?

Sir, we've checked his home, his neighborhood, even other telegraph companies to see if one has employed him, but there's no sign.

He seems to have vanished.

George, one doesn't simply vanish.

Keep looking.

Yes, sir.

How goes it with Mr. Adams' communications?

Quite interesting.

So many of the messages sent to Kingsley were romantic, sweet, even salacious.

So he and Miss Williams were deeply involved?

Well, yes.

But not all of the messages sent were from Veronica.

Another woman?

Perhaps this was some bizarre love triangle gone wrong.

I'll have her brought in immediately.

Do you know who she is?

Actually, it might not be quite that simple, William.

That's 13 so far.

This Mr. Adams was quite the lothario.

Indeed.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, eh, Murdoch?

Apparently not, sir.

With looking after mother, I have no time for myself.

She's bedridden.

And since he just lost his mother, he understood exactly what I was going through.

No, his mother is still alive.

He lives with her.

I see. And how often did you say you were in touch?

At least three times a week.

We share such a devotion to rescuing birds.

He's building me an aviary, which we laughed about, because his name is Avery.

No, actually, it's not. His name is Kingsley Adams.

Kingsley Adams?

But I work with him.

Here in Toronto.

Yes, I know.

Kingsley?

He's paunchy and pale, like dough.

And very shy.

Miss Tipton, A.K. communicated with you in Great North Western code.

Did you never suspect that it was Kingsley Adams?

No. Never.

There are over 160 Great North Western employees in three offices.

And that's just Toronto.

Besides, Kingsley said he was from Ottawa.

I...I had no reason to disbelieve him.

So you never actually met him face-to-face?

But only because he's in Buffalo.

I don't understand.

If he's from Toronto, then why in the world would he borrow money to travel to see me?

I knew something wasn't right when he asked for the money.

Yet you gave it to him?

And you never heard from him again.

No.

I didn't.

This is all so embarrassing.

All of us duped by that pitiful creature.

We were just a bunch of lonely fools.

Beth?

Beth Tipton?

Enid Jones!

Are you working for the police force now?

Oh, heavens, no.

But you're still with Great North Western?

I am.

Oh, dear.

Kingsley Adams didn't --

No.

I'm only here to help translate some telegraphic messages.

Oh.

It's all so humiliating.

It's good to see that you're doing so well.

How is Alwyn? He must be 9 by now.

He's very well.

We're living on our own, making ends meet.

And are you involved with anyone?

Perhaps.

I should get back to my translating.

Oh, of course.

It was good to see you.

Bye.

So, this Adams, he seduces several women, earns their trust, and then starts asking for money.

He bilked many of them out of their life savings.

But why go from fraud to murder?

Maybe he slipped up and Miss Williams caught him in his lies.

Now he's up and disappeared.

So how are we supposed to catch the bugger?

He doesn't know we're onto him yet.

So?

Maybe we should meet him where he's most comfortable.

On the telegraph lines.

Aren't you just being a little bit stupid?

He's not going to answer to a copper, is he?

No, sir. Not a copper.

I propose we lure Mr. Adams out by creating the perfect female target.

Wouldn't that be very dangerous for her, sir?

She's not gonna be real, Crabtree.

She's only gonna exist over the telegraph wires.

Right, then.

Let's make a list of her qualities.

Uh, very attractive.

He's not going to see her.

Well, there's no harm in her sounding attractive.

Well, in that case, I like a woman with spunk.

Spunk.

I think a combination of domesticity and career.

Independent, yet not selfishly so.

Independent.

A woman who gives you a little bit of trouble every now and again, keeps things interesting.

Someone you feel at ease with, yet challenges you.

A woman with strong hips.

An intellectual.

A woman with large --

Sir, I'm sure that's enough.

Right, then. I suppose we should give her a name.

How about Molly?

Sounds sweet, yet still a little saucy.

Fine.

Who is going to play Molly?

So, Molly.

What's the holdup?

Taking a long time, isn't it?

We did have to wire in this portable telegraph, sir.

Yes. Well, it's here now, so let's get cracking.

Will he even hear us?

If Mr. Adams is out there, he'll hear us, Inspector.

So, how do we do this?

We'll just send out a hello over the lines and see if we can grab anyone's attention.

Try, "Hello, my name is Molly.

I'm new to Toronto.

Such a big city."

No, no, no. You have to do better than that.

Say, "I've been looking for a good teahouse.

Does anyone have a suggestion?"

Well, it's obviously not going to work, is it?

Patience, sir. Patience.

What are they saying?

It's someone claiming to be a young man.

He suggests... Mary's... on... Arbor Street.

His signature is T.S.

This could take forever.

Is he always so impatient?

This is exceptional, even for him.

Yes. No, sir. Trust me, please.

You need to give me the package.

I appreciate that very much, but I have explicit orders.

Thank you.


Constable?

Who was that gentleman?

Uh, just -- just a deliveryman.

It's most curious.

I believe he's also an attendant at Toronto General Hospital.

Oh?

Who is the package for?

The inspector.

Is he ill?

I'm not really at liberty to say.

I see, but if the package was delivered by an attendant, then it must be medicinal.

I-I suppose that makes sense.

I wonder if it would also make sense that the attendant was meant to administer the medicine.

Why would that be?

Otherwise... why not simply send a delivery boy?

Well...

And furthermore, since you sent the attendant away, the inspector's not going to be able to take his medicine, now, is he?

Yes, I see.

Perhaps given my medical experience, I should take the package in.

Um...

Yes. Yes, I suppose that would be for the beat.

Of course it would be.

Inspector.

Doctor, I'm, uh, quite busy at the moment.

What are you doing with that?

Where's --

The attendant?

I'm afraid Constable Crabtree sent him away.

What?! The bloody dimwit can't follow even simple instructions.

Inspector, what is going on?

It's only an injection I'm taking. The Keeley Gold Cure.

I've heard of it.

For alcohol cravings?

This is absolutely none of your business.

Yes, I suppose not, but you are going to need someone to administer the injection.

Oh, no, no, no.

It'll be a cold day in hell before any woman other than the wife comes anywhere near my backside, love.

Well, if not me, you'll be needing much longer arms.

We'll see about that.

Murdoch!

You're a good man, Murdoch. A man to ride the river with.

I'm glad you're feeling better, sir.

Much better.

Higgins! Put the kettle on!

The inspector's Gold Cure certainly seems to perform miracles.

Doesn't it?

He must be suffering terribly from alcohol withdrawal.

Indeed.

Detective Murdoch!

It's A.K.

He's attempting to contact Molly.

I must attend to this.

Of course.

But I would continue to keep an eye on him, William.

Yes. Of course.

I was just saying that Molly was new to the city when he asked me how I liked Toronto.

Shall I ask him where he is?

No, no. Not too soon.

We don't want to risk scaring him off.

Um...

Tell him, "I was hoping the city would offer more adventures."

He says...

"Molly will find adventure."

He's fond of adventure, too.

Your answer.

I'm thinking.

You have to answer quickly, or he might lose interest in the conversation.

Um...

"What kind of adventures?"

"One... that involves... a certain young woman."

Oh, my. This sounds familiar.

"How the attentions of such a charming creature could be directed to me, I know not."

Ha!

"What do you want to know about me?"

"Everything.

Are you... married?"

Detective.

"I was... but my husband has passed."

"I am sorry."

"But he left me with a son."

Enid, please.

We mustn't lose him.

"I... would... like... to... meet him... one day."

He says he must go but hopes to talk later.

Excellent.

Might I have a word with you? In private.

Yes. Of course.

That was most successful.

William, I would rather that you did not use my personal information.

A quick decision had to be made. You said so yourself.

Bringing up my dead husband in front of your constables --

It was most uncomfortable.

But the idea that this killer knows that I have a son.

There's no way he can know it's Alwyn.

Alwyn is everything to me.

And I would do anything to protect him.

I apologize.

My actions were inappropriate.

Sir, another body has been found.

Interestingly, just a short distance from where we discovered Miss Williams.

Please excuse me, Mrs. Jones.

A young couple met for a rendezvous.

They thought the stench was a dead animal.

Instead, they found this.

Here.

Hmm?

Camphor.

Rub it on your lip to mask the odor.

We may have a serious problem, George.

Kingsley Adams.

Sir, clearly, this body has been here for some time.

If this is Kingsley Adams, then how --

How could he have been telegraphing me only minutes ago?

An excellent question indeed.

This is definitely Kingsley Adams.

His dental records confirm it.

And given the state of decomposition --

He's been dead so long, he couldn't have murdered Veronica Williams.

Have you a cause of death?

Blunt-force trauma.

His temporal bone was shattered.

His body was found at a known lovers' rendezvous.

Perhaps he was meeting one of his young ladies there, one who'd become upset with his misrepresentations.

I don't understand this new form of courting.

Over telegraph lines?

Many people become engaged through letter writing.

But this seems so much more impersonal.

Yes.

I'm a fan of chemistry myself.

The way a person smells, the effect they have on you when you're around them.

Julia?

Yes?

I said, can you tell me when you think he might have died?

Oh, yes. Um, of course.

I believe he's been dead roughly three weeks.

Three weeks.

Most interesting.

Thank you, Doctor.

Three weeks. That's significant.

That's significant because Kingsley Adams was -- was -- was...

He was murdered approximately three weeks ago.

And he was fired from his job four weeks ago.

Right. Right. But there's something else.

Something that I just can't quite grasp.

Well, during that time, It seems he went from Casanova to fraudulent charlatan.

Yes. Personality change.

Good observation, Crabtree. Well done. Like that.

It would suggest that someone murdered Kingsley Adams and assumed his identity over the telegraph lines.

Tragic. But why do that?

To use his intimate relationships with women to cheat them out of their money.

Which they happily gave him.

It's most cruel, really.

This bugger needs sorting out.

So, how do I get my hands on him?

We know for certain he's a telegrapher.

As were the two murder victims.

Didn't they work together?

Same company, something like that?

Yes, they did, until he was dismissed for socializing.

With that Williams woman. Amongst others.

Perhaps we're still looking at a love triangle.

But, sir, we've already spoken with all of Mr. Adams' conquests.

Actually, I wasn't thinking of Mr. Adams.

Good.

Good.

Miss Tipton, was Miss Williams involved with anyone other than Kingsley Adams?

No, I...

I don't think so.

Miss Tipton, are you withholding something from me?

I once saw -- well, peeked -- at some of Ronnie's incoming messages.

It seems she had become involved with another man over the telegraph lines.

Why did you not tell me of this before?

Well, I didn't want to get into any trouble.

Trouble? Why would you get into trouble?

Because, Detective, this other man was my employer.

Frankly, I'm offended at the insinuation that I may have had something to do with either Mr. Adams' or Miss Williams' death.

But you do admit you were involved with Miss Williams?

But only over the telegraph lines.

I couldn't help myself.

She was quite... eager.

Why didn't you mention this before?

As you know, I've dismissed people for such dalliances.

I couldn't be seen as hypocritical.

But there is something so alluring about telegraphic romance.

How so?

One can be bolder.

More... explicit.

Perhaps when you learned Miss Williams was having a bolder, more explicit relationship with Kingsley Adams, you made him pay with his life.

I did no such thing.

Where were you three weeks ago?

In Hamilton, helping my brother and his new bride move.

I took a week from work, so if that's when Adams was killed, I couldn't have done it.

We'll be checking into that.

I advise that you do.

What do you mean you couldn't find anything on Ryder?

Well, his alibi checks out, sir.

Did I give you permission to speak?

Uh, w-well, no.

No!

So keep your bloody trap shut, then!

You're a disgrace, the lot of you!

Poor excuse for that uniform you're wearing!

Do I have to do everything around here by myself?!

Shift, Crabtree!

Sir, might I have a word?

Sir!

Get your bloody hand off me.

Sir, I think I'm speaking for the rest of the men when I say that we're very concerned about your behavior.

Sir!

I said take your hand off.

Sir, there's something wrong with you.

Everybody knows it, even your missus, but you refuse to --

So, Doctor, this is what you get up to down here, is it?

Sometimes.

This is a surprise, Inspector.

Is there something I can help you with?

I believe there is.

I've not been acting like myself of late.

There was an incident between me and Crabtree.

While he is an annoying little so-and-so, he's not that annoying.

Is he all right?

Yes, yes.

The Gold Cure that I've been taking --

I think it's having a strange effect on me.

Yes. I've thought the very same thing.

You have?

Yes, since your shot.

I was simply waiting to confirm my observations.

Well, there's no need to wait any further.

Would you like me to analyze it for you?

I'd appreciate that.

Good day, Doctor.

Good day.

I don't know how you do it.

How I do what?

Gamble with people's lives.

At least that's what this feels like to me.

Enid, I do what I have to to capture a killer.

Is it him?

Yes.

What's he saying?

He says he likes me.

Molly.

What should I tell him?

Tell him what you have to.

"I like you, too."

He's asking if I'm involved with anyone.

"It's difficult to say.

There is so much to consider when you have a young son who needs a father."

What is it?

He says, "Ah, yes. Alwyn."

H-How does he know? How does -- How does he know Alwyn's name?

You have to ask him.

"How do you know his name?"

He says I sound like someone who used to work with him.

Oh, my God. He knows it's me.

William, he knows it's me.

You can't lose him. Enid, please.

You have to be strong.

"I don't know what you mean."

"It's not nice... to lie... Enid.

Veronica lied to me.

Beth lied to me."

He's gone!

He knows about Beth, me, Alwyn.

William!

Nothing will happen to you.

I'll send constables around to take care of Alwyn straightaway.

Where are you going?

If anyone's in danger, it's Beth Tipton.

I'll be right back.

Everything will be fine.

We're too late, sir.

So it would seem.

Gabriel Ryder's walking stick.

He was here, then.

Yes.

But more than that, Gabriel Ryder and Kingsley Adams are one and the same.

Listen up, lads. This is Gabriel Ryder.

He's suspected of kidnapping Beth Tipton, and he's most likely a killer.

I want this b*st*rd caught before he hurts this woman.

Well, let's get a move on.

Oh, and, gentlemen, just to be clear --

I've got total faith in each and every one of you.

Sirs, lads, Ryder's house has been searched.

She's not there. Also, he didn't return to work this morning.

What about Alwyn?

Master Alwyn is safe, ma'am. He's with a constable.

Thank goodness.

Crabtree. A word.

Thank you for agreeing to stay.

Your help could prove to be invaluable.

I'm doing this for Beth.

Of course.

About what happened.

It's all right, sir.

No, it's not.

And if you want to get me back, that'd be all right.

Get you back, sir?

Go on. Hit me.

Hit you?

Hit me.

No, sir. It's really...

Call it even?

Pathetic.

Ah.

Doctor, do come in.

Please, take a seat.

Have you any news for me?

Yes.

I analyzed your Gold Cure.

It contains absolutely no gold.

It does, however, contain traces of strychnine and cocaine.

Cocaine?

Your mood swings have nothing to do with alcohol withdrawal.

What you are suffering from is cocaine addiction.

I suggest you stop taking it immediately.

However, it won't be easy.

I'm prepared for that.

Well, it may be simpler than repairing other damages.

Thank you, Doctor.

I'll take that under advisement.

Detective!

Is it him?

No.

It's Beth!

Miss Tipton.

She's sending an S.O.S.

Can you find out where she is?

She's at the Great North Western office.

George, organize the men and search the building for Mr. Ryder.

Sir.

Miss Tipton, are you all right?

It was Gabriel.

He came to my apartment and -- and -- and --

I let him in and then --

It's all right.

It's all right. You're fine now. Where is he?

I tried to get away from him, but he forced me to come here.

I see.

He's gonna come back and get me. I just know it.

No, he won't.

He's gonna kill me. Please, j-just get this off of me.

Drink some tea, dear. You'll feel better.

I can't stop shaking.

I know, dear. I know.

Sir, we stationed men at the train station.

No sign of Mr. Ryder.

Very good.

Though I doubt they'll be necessary.

Something not sitting right with you, sir?

No, it's not.

I know what you mean.

There certainly are questions.

Why would Mr. Ryder transport Miss Tipton to the telegraph office just to leave here there unharmed?

I mean, why not --

Why not just kill her?

Something more tangible than questions, George.

If I were to tie your hands behind your back, where would the knot of the rope be?

I suppose it would be on the outside of my hands facing you, sir.

Yes.

Yet when I untied Miss Tipton, the knot was on the inside, between her hands and her body.

And how would it get like that?

Miss Tipton tied the knot herself.

In fact, she orchestrated her own kidnapping.

And most likely killed Kingsley Adams and Veronica Williams.

And Mr. Ryder?

His fate's unknown.

How can we prove any of this?

George, how are your telegraphy skills?

Sir, poor at best.

That'll do nicely.

Thank you, Detective.

And how are you feeling, Miss Tipton?

Much better now.

I think if I could just go home and rest, I'll be fine.

Of course.

Oh, my goodness.

What is it, Mrs. Jones?

A transmission.

It's from Gabriel Ryder.

Gabriel?

What's he saying?

It's difficult to make out.

It seems he's been hurt.

A-Attacked?

I can't quite understand.

Detective, I don't know if I can listen to this.

Please, I-I'd -- I'd really like to go home.

Miss Tipton, I must insist you remain here.

Ask him where he is.

Detective, I think I'd rather go home.

Well, that would be far too risky.

Then I'll go to my brother's house.

Please, Detective, I must insist.

He's not responding.

Very well, then. I'll have a couple of constables --

No!

Miss Tipton.

I need to leave.

It's against my better judgment.

So that's where you hid Mr. Ryder.

Thank you for leading me to him.

But how?

The telegraph can be such a deceitful device.

Anyone can impersonate anyone.

Even a lowly constable could become the dead manager of a telegraph company.

And a lonely, bitter woman can become a murderer.

When I realized that a few kind words from A.K. could open a woman's change purse, I thought to myself, "Beth Tipton, you don't need to be a telegraph operator the rest of your life."

So you killed them.

You killed Kingsley Adams, assumed his identity, and continued to exploit the other women.

But Miss Williams found out, didn't she?

Ronnie became suspicious.

One day I found her going through my transmissions.

And Mr. Ryder?

He was supposed to take the blame, but you set him free.

So I thought of the kidnapping.

He was so easily led into temptation.

I suppose he was to disappear, never to be heard from again.

Maybe.

Or maybe he'd send you another taunting message.

Just to prove he'd escaped.

That's the funny thing about the telegraph, Detective.

You never really know who's on the other end, do you?

Margaret.

Thomas.

Thank you for seeing me.

I know that I've been ill-humored lately.

Because of the drink.

No, because of the Gold Cure!

You're making excuses, Thomas.

It's got cocaine in it, woman!

But you're right, though. That's no excuse.

You're not exactly a walk in the park, though, either, not since this Temperance League thing.

Why do you think I joined the League?

Just to stop you from drinking?

Yes.

No. Truthfully, I'm not quite sure.

Thomas, I wanted you to listen to me again, like before the children.

You don't even take me to the theater anymore.

Well, you have my attention now.

I think a compromise is in order.

I'll quit the Temperance League if you'll quit drinking.

It's not like I'm coming home late every night, spending all hours down the pub.

Thomas.

If that's what you want, I'll stop drinking.

Or... perhaps we could consider moderation.

That might work.

And can I persuade you to join me for "Romeo and Juliet" next week?

I don't know.

Isn't that the one where they both die in the end?

Yes, but only 'cause they can't bear to be apart.

Thomas.

Oh. Here. Let me help you.

You've had a long day.

Thank you.

Alwyn will be waiting.

May I walk you home?

You've your work to finish.

Enid...

I'm sorry for what's happened.

There's nothing to be sorry about.

This has been an eye-opening experience for me.

And now I know you a little bit better.

I see.

When can I see you again?

I just need a little time to myself, William.

Oh. I'm interrupting.

No, no. I was just leaving.

Good day, Dr. Ogden.

Good day, Mrs. Jones.

I was just stopping by to drop something off to the inspector, to help with his withdrawal symptoms.

Do you know where he is?

I have no idea.

Blue salvias.

From Mrs. Jones?

Yes.

"I think of you."

Pardon?

The meaning of blue salvias -- "I think of you."

Of course.

Good day, Detective.

Good day, Doctor.