04x13 - Murdoch in Wonderland

[bunniefuu]

It's all right, dear.

Whereabouts? Upstairs.

Ah! Morning, Higgins. George.

What have we...?

Sweet mother of...

Is that a turtle costume?

He's Randolph Littlefair, a guest of the Reda family last night.

They had a costume party here. Has Detective Murdoch been notified?

No, I telephoned his boarding house and got no answer. That's odd.

You'd best help with the interviews.

George, I just found Detective Murdoch. What?

Sir?

Sir! Ah!

What?

George...

Sir?

There's been a m*rder in the next room.

What are you doing here? Are you all right?

Why are you dressed like that?

George, did you say someone's been m*rder*d? Yes, sir.

A Mr Littlefair. He's been beaten to death. Just through here.

No sign of the rest of it so far, sir.

Perhaps the k*ller used the mallet until it broke and then finished him off using this clock?

William! Are you all right?

I'm not sure. I believe I'm still experiencing the effects.

More than eight hours later? The effects of what? Something I drank last night, George.

Oh, my! It's the Mock Turtle. Yes. The Mock Turtle?

Dr Ogden and I were attending a party last night in honour of the late Lewis Carroll.

Alice's Adventures In Wonderland? I was the Mad Hatter.

Lividity suggests he d*ed roughly eight hours ago.

I'd say 11.35, to be precise, Doctor.

Which means that Mr Littlefair d*ed when we were all here.

Sir? I believe this is the handle to the croquet mallet. Very good, Henry. Where did you find it?

Sir, it was under the bed you were sleeping in.

How did part of the m*rder w*apon get under your bed?

Oh, and why were you sleeping there in the first place? It's a long story, sir.

Bad news, I'm afraid, sirs. There are only two sets of finger marks on the mallet - the victim's...

And the other set was mine. Someone's trying to pin this on you.

That would appear to be the case, sir. Well, we'll get to the bottom of it.

I can't be a part of this investigation, sir. We should get someone from outside the station.

In the meantime, it would appear we have our prime suspect in this m*rder case...

Me.

Giles? Why Giles?

Yes. No, I understand. Yes, sir.

Chief Constable Stockton is sending Inspector Giles from Station House number three.

He's to have complete authority over the investigation. I suppose there are worse fates, sir.

Inspector Giles is a thorough investigator.

Once he sets his sights on a suspect that's usually the end of them.

I'm sure you're over-stating the case, sir. Well, we'll see, won't we?

How are you feeling, William? Somewhat more like myself.

It goes to my theory. I think you were drugged. I'd like to take a blood sample to prove it.

I would appreciate that. But with your wedding so close, I'm sure you have more pressing concerns.

More pressing than clearing you of a possible m*rder charge? I think not.

Doctor, did you come into my room last night?

I looked in on you at about 11, but I didn't enter the room.

That must be it then. I seem to remember someone...

Did you speak to me?

No.

Sir, we found this tucked into your hat band.

It's the poem. What was it doing in your hat band?

It's written in reverse writing. I can't make any sense of it.

Murdoch, Dr Ogden, I believe you know Inspector Giles? Doctor. Detective.

Well, I'm done here. If you'll excuse me... Actually, Doctor, I would appreciate a word.

I understand you were also at the Reda house last night? Yes.

Then as a material witness I would ask that you refrain from communicating with the suspect.

Is that really necessary? Yes, it is. When you're ready, Detective.

I conduct all my interviews in private, Inspector, without exception.

You're under my roof, Giles. If you like, I could move the interview to Station House number three.

Fine. But this is a waste of time. If you please, Inspector?

Shall I start at the beginning? Let's start with the facts.

Time of death has been established as 11.35pm. Where were you then?

Sleeping in the room next door.

You'd been invited to spend the night?

No. I wasn't feeling well.

And where was Mr Littlefair when you last saw him?

He was on the floor in the parlour.

At least, I think so.

It may have been an hallucination. Hallucination?

Dr Ogden believes I was drugged at some point.

And who gave this drug to you?

I don't know. They were coming around with trays of drinks all evening.

The frog footmen, that is.

Frog footmen?

I'll tell you what, Detective... Why don't you start from the beginning?

Yes.

'I received an invitation ten days ago.'

Thank you.

"Mr and Mrs Jack and Alexandra Reda request your presence as the Mad Hatter at a Costume Party "to be held in honour of the late Lewis Carroll." How wonderful - you get to be the Mad Hatter.

Darcy was supposed to be the Hatter but he'll be in Buffalo visiting his family.

Oh, you'll be attending as well?

I'm to be Alice. I'm going as the White Rabbit.

How did they get my name? That was my doing.

I said you were the most interesting conversationalist. That's very flattering, but... You have to go.

They'll have no Mad Hatter if you don't.

I'm not much for wearing costumes. I... What costume?

It's a top hat and a bow tie. Polka-dot bow tie.

Yes... Do come, William.

It'll be fun.

'Did you know anyone at the party?

'No. I don't travel in those circles.

'So this was the first time you met Randolph Littlefair? That's correct.'

I feel ridiculous. Trust me when I tell you, you'll be the least ridiculous person here.

A frog footman, how perfect!

Julia! Ruby! Oh!

Oh, how good to see you! And you must be Mr Murdoch. I've heard so much about you. Jack Reda.

Glad you could come. It's a pleasure. So are we playing croquet?

You can't have a Wonderland party without croquet! Come.

Oh, lovely!

Julia, Ruby Ogden, this is our friend, Constance Gardner.

And this is our son, Bradley. This whole party was Constance's idea.

Such a pleasure. Oh, and this is Mr Murdoch who so graciously agreed to take Mr Garland's place.

Let me introduce you to our guests of honour. Mr Randolph Littlefair and his lovely wife, Eleanor.

Pleased to meet you. Say hello to Tweedledum and Tweedledumber here.

Ha! I believe he's mocking you! I believe he's mocking YOU!

I am the Mock Turtle. I love it when people get into character. Off with his head!

Here. Your turn.

Everyone, have fun. This is delightful.

'So that's how your finger marks got on to the red mallet? Yes.'

What was your impression of Mr Littlefair?

I found him overbearing.

You didn't like him? I'm not in the habit of k*lling people I don't like, Mr Giles. Fair enough.

What happened next?

'After that, we went inside.'

"Drink me." How delightful. Oh! No, thank you.

Come on, Detective, one drink won't k*ll you. It's a Wonderland party, after all. All right.

'Was your drink ever out of your sight?'

I don't remember. So someone could have slipped the drug in at any time? Possibly.

Do you think you were specifically chosen to receive the drug?

I can't think of a reason why. Tell me more about Littlefair.

'Frankly, I wasn't the only person who found him objectionable.'

You don't belong with these people, do you? I'm sorry?

I don't belong with them either.

Aren't you the hosts' son?

I'm a communist. I'm intellectually committed to loathing them all.

Especially Littlefair.

Why him?

Because my father, also a despicable capitalist, is in debt to him, and he's taken full advantage.

And he's an ignorant bore. He's never read Lewis Carroll.

The Mock Turtle's supposed to be doleful, not mocking. The fool.

And what did you make of Bradley Reda's diatribe?

The disquiet of youth? The passive, intellectual variety?

I'm told there was some sort of parlour game. Yes, a word game.

May I have your attention, please?

As we all know, Lewis Carroll enjoyed inventing his own nonsense words.

You'll be asked to invent a nonsense word of your own, describing the person standing next to you.

Then we'll put all the words into a hat and invent a nonsense poem of our own.

How lovely!

Thank you.

'And what was this poem about?'

I'm not sure exactly.

That's when the drug started to take effect.

Oh! Oh! How wonderful! Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? We have our poem!

I need to use a mirror because it's written backwards.

"'Twas twilly and the grumbly snifters burbled in their moonly sned!

"While the brilluitiful Noomava lay smomfy in her bed."

Julia? What is it, William?

I'm having the oddest sensation.

Are you tipsy? No.

Everything seems distorted.

"Gone he was and so it was the Oafenfat came sneeling."

Splendid! Splendid! It's the maiden who slays the ogre. Isn't that refreshing?

And to think we made it up all by ourselves!

'From that point on, the distortions grew more intense.'

May I offer you another drink? We have a light one.

DISTORTED LAUGHTER

'Time no longer made sense.'

DISTORTED VOICES Oh!

I have half a mind... William!

You hit him? I honestly don't know.

But I suspect I did.

And what happened then?

I believe I was helped up to bed.

Ah, look!

A smomfy room just for you.

Right. Very...

Hmm?

What?

Aagh!

Aaaaagh!

Well? The m*rder w*apon has his finger marks. He has no alibi.

And no motive. He had an altercation with the victim. Bloody hell!

I'd like to say that I don't believe he k*lled the man, but I'm subject to the same prejudice as you.

Normally with evidence like this, charges are laid.

You lay a charge, the race is on to find evidence supporting that charge. I don't want that to happen.

We should investigate the possibility that he's being framed.

Detective Murdoch must be incarcerated for the remainder of the investigation.

This is just temporary till we solve this thing. I understand, sir.

"'Twas twilly and the grumbly snifters burbled in their moonly sned "while the brilliutiful Noomava..."

George, what does this mean? It doesn't mean anything, Higgins. It's nonsense!

Oh. And your novel? I've finished Curse Of The Lost Pharaohs.

It's so good, I'll write another. And there'll be a character based on you - the village idiot!

Everyone gather round.

Detective Murdoch has been placed in custody and will remain there until we can prove his innocence.

It's up to us, lads.

We have a time of death - 11.35pm.

I want to know where everyone at that party was in the minutes before and after that.

I want to know who had a motive. Crabtree, find out who had a grudge against Littlefair. Sir.

And no-one outside this station house, and I mean absolutely no-one, can know that one of our own is under suspicion of m*rder. Is that clear?

Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Well, what are you all standing around for?

Inspector Giles! Allow me to be of assistance.

Do you mind? No.

You have post-mortem results, Doctor? Yes. Mr Littlefair was struck twice with the mallet.

His temple area was shattered with shards of bone entering the brain.

Hmm. That sounds decisively fatal to me. Yes. My feeling is the clock was just...

For good measure? Quite so, yes.

And have you found evidence of a drug in Detective Murdoch's blood?

Yes. His glucose levels were depressed, suggesting the presence of mescaline.

Mescaline? It's derived from the mescal cactus. It was isolated quite recently.

And does this drug make you violent?

No. Its primary effect is intense visual hallucinations.

Nevertheless, Detective Murdoch did become violent, did he not? There was an incident, yes, but...

I apologise. This is the wrong venue for this conversation.

When you're finished here, I'd like to interview you properly at the station.

Constable? What?

You're staring. No, Miss Gardner. I...

Sorry. I was kicked by a horse in the face as a young girl.

Where were you at 11.35?

We were playing a game in the parlour. Well, most of us anyway.

And he hit him.

I'd gone to bed by then. I felt I'd fulfilled my obligations as the son of the hosts.

We were counting on Mr Littlefair to buy a larger share of my company.

We threw the party in his honour. It had all been going so well.

My husband could be...overbearing at times, it's true.

It's no reason to k*ll a man, though, is it?

We assumed William had been the victim of a prank.

I thought it might've been oil of hashish or something harmless like that.

It was a Wonderland party after all.

Oh, for the love of... I bent my nib. One moment, Miss Ogden.

I believe the detective keeps some extra nibs in here. Is that a ring? Give me that back!

It's beautiful. You can't just take items out of the detective's...

"Julia, as long as you exist in this world..."

Oh, my, it's a proposal! What? He was going to propose? I have no idea!

And I insist that you... No, don't put them in there! Ruby, this is none of our business.

I beg to differ, George.

At first I assumed he'd had a little too much. William is not used to liquor.

But then over the next hour, he became more disoriented. And you saw a personality change? Rather, yes.

Are you feeling any better, William? No. Thank you. No.

Hey! Frog man!

'Mr Littlefair had been drinking heavily all evening and it was beginning to show.'

One more drop and I'm sleeping in another room. You snore when you are drunk, Randolph! Fine!

Froggy! I said no more!

GASPS Everyone was in shock. And then...

Hey!

I've half a mind to... Yes? Come now, Mr Turtle.

Let's help you to your bed. Come on.

What's come over you, William? We need to get Mr Murdoch upstairs as well.

We can get him home. No, no, no, I insist!

Believe me, Inspector Giles. William was in no condition to leave his room, let alone k*ll someone.

Well, thank you, Dr Ogden.

I believe that's all for now.

Would it be possible to see him?

Doctor, do you have a romantic interest in the detective?

I notice that you sometimes refer to him by his Christian name.

We did have a relationship, yes, but that is... Well, I wish you'd been forthright with me about this.

You must see how that past relationship casts every statement you've made in a different light.

And no. No, you can't see him.

What have you learned, Inspector? Well, between 11.30 and 11.45, most guests were gathered in the parlour to play games. And who was not in the parlour?

There were two servants in the kitchen and one was loading supplies on to a carriage.

Jack Reda was in his study and Bradley was in his bed. Interesting.

If Detective Murdoch's recollections are truthful, the Reda family has good reason to dislike Littlefair.

Littlefair had queered a business deal on Jack Reda and Sonny Boy was letting the whole world know.

Yes, this is promising. Let's bring them in.

Am I seriously under suspicion? You expressed contempt for Mr Littlefair. He was contemptible.

And your communist philosophy advocates the violent overthrow of capitalist society, does it not?

Through spontaneous revolution, not one capitalist at a time. Bradley!

You claim to loathe your capitalist parents, but their financial future and yours had been put at risk by Littlefair. I call that motive.

Call it what you will.

My son feels that any commercial venture is, by definition, exploitive.

The fact is, we needed Mr Littlefair's money.

He may have pressed his advantage, but I stood to lose more by his death than I could gain. But not much more.

Several speculative land deals of yours had just fallen through.

Your construction business is bleeding badly. Oh, yes, I checked.

You were using Littlefair's money like a bank.

But he held all your IOUs. In a short time you would've gone under.

Littlefair would've owned every last thing that you owned for pennies on the dollar.

He was a damn bastard, is what he was. That's why you k*lled him.

No. k*lling him is what I wish I'd done.

"Julia, as long as you exist in this world, there will be no-one for me but you.

"We can adopt. Julia Ogden, please say you'll marry me."

No. It can't be.

He had every opportunity to say these things to me before I left for Buffalo.

I don't understand!

Jules... I love Darcy.

I'm happy. I've made my choice.

Doesn't the fact that you're so upset about this tell you that your heart feels differently?

Don't you see it's too late? I can't walk out on Darcy now. It would break his heart.

Heartbreak is temporary. Marriage is for life.

For the rest of your life.

This receipt is dated a year ago. He may not even feel that way any more.

Then why keep the engagement ring and his thoughts on the proposal?

He would've said something.

Would he have? The problem is that he's a fine man who loves you.

But he sees how you've prepared your future. He's going to remain silent, no matter how much it hurts him, and honour your choice, unless you talk to him.

Jules, you have to say something. You have to go to him.

I can't.

Inspector Giles has forbidden it.

Well, as I see it, you'll have to do something.

My money's on the communist son. I don't think so.

He may well have expressed a dislike for the man, but so did Murdoch. Have a seat, Giles. Ah, thank you.

And who att*cked Littlefair minutes before he was k*lled? Whose bed was the m*rder w*apon found under?

What about the boy's father? Well, I would agree, except that by k*lling Littlefair, Jack Reda would only have hastened his own financial collapse. So you're back on Murdoch?

You've had that in your head from the start, like a dog with a bone.

Look, I appreciate your loyalty to Murdoch, Inspector. I truly do.

But don't ever question my objectivity as an officer of the law.

He's one of us, Giles.

And that makes it all the more difficult. But it doesn't mean that he's innocent.

It's not looking good. I need you to think.

Someone must've come into your room to plant the evidence against you.

Do you remember anything? Nothing clearly, sir. Well, that's not good enough.

Someone may have come into my room, but I can't be certain.

Bloody hell, Murdoch, you have to remember. Who was it?

Your neck is on the line.

LOUD PURRING Do you remember me, William?

Was it a dream you had or a memory?

Perhaps a dream of a memory.

Who was it?

The Cheshire Cat.

Mrs Littlefair, did you enter Detective Murdoch's room on the night of the party?

No, why would I? You were dressed as the Cheshire Cat, correct? Yes.

And were you in costume the whole evening? Hmm... No, I had my mask off for most of the time.

And where did you leave the mask?

On the table downstairs.

Very well. Thank you, Mrs Littlefair.

You and your husband weren't exactly living in marital bliss, were you?

And now here you are, newly single, and ready to inherit quite a few bob! Inspector!

You think I k*lled my husband? Murdoch saw you come into his room.

That's when you planted the evidence under his bed. How dare you! I've just lost my husband. I'm grieving!

Grieving? Grieving all the way to the bank! Inspector, that's enough!

A word.

I made it perfectly clear, I conduct my interviews without interference!

You barely asked her the time of day! She was downstairs in the parlour with witnesses at 11.35.

Someone came into Murdoch's room with that mask on. So says Murdoch.

And he's got every reason to lie if he's the k*ller. This is Murdoch we're talking about.

Policeman don't commit m*rder? Wasn't it Murdoch who disproved that theory?

I can't handle the evidence, sir.

Then just look, all right? I don't need to remind you that Giles is closing in.

Right then, George, fit the pieces together.

Now, rotate it.

It's broken to the side, sir. If the mallet had broken from the force of striking the victim, the handle would have broken back to front.

The mallet was broken deliberately? Part of you being framed.

That would be my assumption.

Now then, what other evidence might have been tampered with?

This is a striking clock. Regardless of what the hands say, the striking mechanism must be set to chime on the hour.

Now we can check the status of the mechanism to see if it matches the displayed time.

You see here?

The position of the rack and snail cam. Rack and snail?

It's what determines the number of chimes.

This clock had already struck midnight by the time it was stopped. Can we tell what time it stopped?

Yes, by counting the number of notches on the gear train.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

This clock was stopped at ten after midnight.

12.10? That was the time of the m*rder. Not 11.35pm.

That puts Eleanor Littlefair back on the suspect list. Bloody hell, that puts everybody back on the list!

We'll have to re-interview them all. So tell me, Inspector, how did you figure out this clock business?

It was Murdoch, wasn't it?

At no point did Detective Murdoch come into contact with the evidence. No, he just told you where to look.

And that didn't strike you as suspicious? How?

Are you suggesting Murdoch framed himself? He plants evidence pointing to himself as the k*ller, knowing when it's shown to be false, it will exonerate him - brilliant! It's idiotic!

It's brilliant. And Murdoch is nothing if not that.

Sir, we have a problem. Now what? I've checked police records going back more than a decade.

It seems Randolph Littlefair changed his name some years back.

He used to be Michael Cudmore and he had a few run-ins with the law, including m*rder. Who did he k*ll?

An innkeeper was found stabbed to death. Cudmore was charged but later acquitted.

So what's the problem? The arresting officer was William H Murdoch.

Michael Cudmore? Do you recall the name?

DISTORTED SPEECH I am the Mock Turtle! Do you remember me, William?

Murdoch! Cudmore? Does the name Michael Cudmore ring any bells?

Michael Cudmore, yes.

I arrested him shortly after I started with the Constabulary.

So you're saying it's coincidence that 12 years later you just happen to be at a party with Cudmore and someone frames you for his m*rder?

It's the only explanation I have.

What do we tell Giles? Nothing. We don't say a bloody thing.

Sir, I've spoken with Bradley Reda's laboratory partner.

He's a chemistry major. They've been isolating mescaline.

It was meant to be a prank. So by chance the man you slipped this drug to ended up being framed for m*rder?

I planned to spike the whole punchbowl, but we couldn't produce enough in time, so I slipped the mescaline into Randolph Littlefair's drink.

And how did it end up in Murdoch's glass? He must've picked up the wrong glass.

I wouldn't have done this to your detective. He was the one person at the party I liked.

Bollocks.

You interviewed Bradley Reda without my permission, Inspector.

If I hadn't, we wouldn't know where the mescaline came from. I thought that might be important, Inspector.

It is, marginally. But I've been doing my own digging.

I learned that your men had discovered these arrest reports concerning Murdoch and Cudmore.

Were you planning on telling me about these? Of course, sir.

But we're still following that line of enquiry. Save it!

You've interfered with my investigation, so I will remove Murdoch from your custody and conduct this investigation from Station House number three. But you can't!

It's not a negotiation!

Detective Murdoch?

Have you any idea how THAT happened? Bloody hell, if I know.

Sir, he must've picked the lock.

Why would he do it, Crabtree? Why would he run?

Maybe he lost his faith in us, sir. Maybe he thought the evidence against him was so strong that...

Well, anything on the m*rder of that innkeeper?

Sir, I've gone over all the files for Cudmore's m*rder charge.

No-one at the Wonderland party connects to the trial. I might have something here, sir.

A witness later claimed that Cudmore assaulted her in the days following. What was the name?

Miss Ava Moon, an actress. Cudmore was arrested, but never charged.

Ava Moon? Yes.

What? Have you heard that name before? Not heard it. Seen it.

The poem. Sir, this is the nonsense poem from the Wonderland party.

It tells the story of a maiden, Noomava. She's att*cked by an ogre, but she fends him off and slays him. What are you showing me this for? Look here.

"Noomava" is Ava Moon backwards.

Who wrote this?

But we all wrote this. We made up nonsense words.

What about this Noomava mentioned in the poem? Ava Moon?

That wouldn't be you, Mrs Reda? Inspector, there's no such person.

So these nonsense words magically became a story about a maiden who k*lled a beast that att*cked her?

It wasn't magic. We had to work at it a bit. "We"? Constance and I.

Well, it was all her idea. It was quite ingenious the way she pieced the story together out of it all.

Constance? The woman who helped you with the party?

Yes. You wouldn't happen to have her address, would you?

I didn't expect to see you in person.

I assumed you'd be in jail.

But I knew you would figure it out.

I was hoping to have been gone by then.

Of course, I was never very lucky, was I?

Ava, I needed to see you to tell you that I understand why you framed me.

And how truly sorry I am for what's happened to you.

Well, it's a bit late for that, isn't it?

I suppose so. Now I'm afraid you'll have to come with me to face the m*rder charge.

You would do that to me? I'll argue for leniency.

I'll tell the judge that Littlefair hurt you deeply, savagely.

Perhaps you didn't realise, Detective, I wasn't his last victim.

Brigitte Marlowe from Montreal. He held his Kn*fe against her cheek while he r*ped her. She lived.

Mavis Hedge from Belleville wasn't so lucky. He was there. I checked.

It was Cudmore or Littlefair, whatever you want to call him.

And this was just a month ago. How many others that we don't know about?

Why didn't you bring this to the police? I tried that once before, didn't I?

Didn't work out so well for me. Taking the law into your own hands has repercussions, Ava.

So does raping and k*lling women!

Or butchering them so badly, they cannot have children.

But the law doesn't always work the way it should.

Haven't you seen that in the 12 years since this happened to me?

Have you not changed in that time?

Is the letter of the law still all you care about even when it's wrong?

Michael Cudmore would have kept on k*lling.

He deserved his fate and worse.

You know what I did was just.

What choice do I have?

Then will you watch my hanging?

If that's the verdict, yes. It's my duty.

Then I will see you on that day.

Murdoch.

She was an actress.

She rented a room at an inn along my b*at.

One night she heard cries coming from the innkeeper's room and then saw a man leaving.

She didn't see his face, but she recognised his coat, his walk.

I arrested Cudmore. And my inspector at Station House number one b*at a confession out of him.

Ava was terrified of Cudmore and refused to testify against him.

But I convinced her that it was her duty, that she should trust in the law.

But he wasn't convicted?

No.

That wasn't your fault.

Actually, it was.

My inspector testified that the confession was voluntary.

But I, zealously, told the truth.

The confession was thrown out. And the case collapsed.

And then Michael Cudmore took revenge on Ava Moon.

Why wasn't he arrested for that?

Insufficient evidence.

It was dark, the middle of the night, etcetera.

The prosecution didn't believe that Ava's identification of Cudmore would stand up at trial.

So you can see why she doesn't trust in the law.

Murdoch!

What the devil's going on here?

Cudmore took his Kn*fe to me.

Not just my face.

He did things...

I couldn't begin to describe to you.

Everything I ever wanted in life, marriage, children...

..ended the night he came into my room.

He moved out of Ontario after that.

Then a few months ago, I saw his picture in the newspaper.

Oh, he'd changed his name to Randolph Littlefair, but I knew it was him.

So you plotted to k*ll him?

I have friends in common with Alexandra Reda and when I learned the Redas were going into partnership with Cudmore, a plan materialised.

I suggested the party for that reason. How did you know Detective Murdoch would be there? I didn't.

It was just... one of those strange things in life.

I realised if I pointed the suspicion on him, it would give me time to make a clean break.

But I wouldn't have let him hang. I was going to leave a confession in my room.

But he arrived before I could make my escape.

And now it's me who's going to hang.

It seems the law's finally done with me.

SIGHS Escaping from police custody is a serious offence.

I had to inform Chief Constable Stockton. And as you're no doubt aware, there may be consequences.

I had to see Ava again.

To make amends somehow.

Bring her in with dignity to get at the truth.

The truth at all costs.

She'll likely hang.

Her sad story may sway the judge.

But it was premeditated m*rder, there's no getting around that.

A lesser policeman than yourself might have been inclined to look the other way.

But you and I are not arbiters of justice.

We are merely servants of the law.

It is no simple task to remain incorruptible, especially in defiance of one's own conscience.

Cold comfort, eh, Inspector?

Sir, good to see you're a free man again.

Thank you, George. This was left at my desk. I'm quite sure that's Dr Ogden's handwriting.

I didn't really have an opportunity to get it to you until now. Thank you.

Well, we're off to the wedding. Will you be attending?

There's something I need to take care of, but if there's time, yes.

Well, sir, I... should get going, I suppose.

I do hope to see you there, sir.

"Dearest William, I am writing this during what should be the happiest time of my life.

"And yet my heart has never been more troubled."

"I have learned of the marriage proposal you intended to make to me.

"If your feelings are the same, you must let me know before I make my vows.

"If they are not, then I will marry Darcy and we will never speak of this.

"Either way, I will know your true feelings and my heart will be in peace.

"Love, Julia."

DOOR OPENS Take the CP Rail to Hamilton immediately.

Don't stay on the train any longer or they will catch you.

Here. Take a carriage from Hamilton. Find a boarding house. Try not to draw any attention to yourself.

Wait a month and cross the border at Windsor on an overnight train.

Detective, I... The station watch is at a wedding ceremony. They'll be back shortly.

Why are you doing this?

If I had acted the way I should have back then, perhaps none of this would have happened.

It's one mistake I can set right.

But this could cost you your career.

You'll never know what it's cost me.

And forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?

I do.

You were missed at the wedding.

Sir? I don't blame you, Murdoch.

It's no secret how you feel about Dr Ogden. I am sorry, me old mucker.

I received this a few hours ago.

Thought I'd hold off until after the wedding celebrations. There's no two ways to say this, Murdoch.

The Chief Constable has determined the price you'll pay for breaking out of jail.

You are suspended three weeks with a reprimand on record. Well, that's not so bad, right?

A slap on the wrist and you'll be right back at it.

Actually, sir, it's going to be much worse than that for me.

There's something I need to tell you.

Best pour us both a drink.