05x03 - Evil Eye of Egypt

[bunniefuu]

"To Alexandra..."

Hope you enjoy it.

That's quite a display you have here, George.

Ah, thank you, sir. I hope to sell out.

Egypt fever, as it were.

I had 50 extra copies printed especially for this event.

That's quite an investment. Well, I'm rather confident, sir.

Did you have a chance to peruse the copy I left on your desk?

Yes, I did, George. You have quite a flair for the dramatic.

Oh, excellent, sir.

I was afraid it wasn't going to be your cup of tea. My which?

Cup of tea, sir. It's an expression, based on the assumption, I suppose, that a cup of tea is something one likes, so something one DOESN'T like... isn't. Is that...?

Don't be fooled by these thieves hiding behind the veil of science.

Mr Sharif. You again! Get out of here! ..Uxbridge!

Come on, now. You'll only make it worse.

You can keep me out, but you can never keep out the curses of my ancestors.

Come on. Please. I apologise, gentlemen.

He's been following us ever since we left Cairo.

Ah! Our patroness beckons. Excuse me, gentlemen.

Sir, that was Desmond Rutherford. He's the leader of the expedition that found the Tomb of the Unknown Princess.

I had no idea you were so well informed. Oh, yes, sir.

While I was writing my book, I read a great deal about this expedition.

See that sickly gentleman? That's Phillip Uxbridge.

He was the first man into the tomb.

And that's Doctor Alger Greenwood. He's an author, like myself.

Quite an event, wouldn't you say, Detective?

Indeed it is, Doctor.

It's not every day we have a 3,000-year-old sarcophagus opened before our very eyes.

You can thank the ladies of the Toronto Historical Society for that. Oh.

The Toronto Historical Society? I bet they would enjoy a good book.

I should rejoin the ladies. If you'll excuse me. Of course.

It's a rollicking tale, but I warn you, not for the faint of heart.

Are you experienced with adventure novels?

It's very beautiful.

Yes. You have a good eye, Mister...

Murdoch. William Murdoch. Doctor Iris Bajjali.

A doctor? Yes. Of archaeology.

Oh! Attention, please.

Please excuse me, Mr Murdoch.

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming.

And thank you to our patroness, Mrs Xavier McAllister.

Because of her largesse, the fine city of Toronto will have the distinction of welcoming the Unknown Princess to our modern age... and on the brink of a new century.

Doctor Iris Bajjali, may I prevail upon you to continue?

Thank you.

While we do not know her identity, we are quite certain that the occupant of this sarcophagus is of royal lineage.

And now, without further ado, Professor Alger Greenwood will do us the honour of welcoming the royal lady back to our earthly realm.

Perhaps our princess is a little shy!

Alger?

Alger!

Doctor?

He's dead. I can't believe it.

I can.

Sir, do you suppose that the snake, having been buried with the princess, was actually under some sort of spell?

A spell, George? Yes, sir. Not unlike Sleeping Beauty.

George... The snake was put to sleep as a... protector of the princess.

When Mr Greenwood opened the coffin, the snake reanimated, and att*cked.

George, let's find the snake first, shall we?

Take Henry with you, and, gentlemen, use the utmost caution. Yes, sir.

Higgins? Sir, if the two of us went, wouldn't we just alarm the thing even further?

Oh, Henry, come along.

You know, Henry, my Aunt Primrose once caught a snake with her bare hands. An Egyptian snake?

No, don't be ridiculous! What would an Egyptian snake be doing in Peterborough?

What do you think you're doing?

Don't touch that!

Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary. I hardly think this is a matter for the police.

Sir, who had access to this sarcophagus?

Oh, everyone, unfortunately. The security in this hall is appalling.

And who knew that Greenwood would be the one to open the sarcophagus? It was certainly no secret.

Uh... Uxbridge?

Er, see to the Detective.

I'll deal with this.

Gentlemen, I assure you, the workplace is perfectly safe.

Gentlemen...

Mr Uxbridge, why are your workers leaving?

We are all cursed for what we've done.

Cursed?

Beware Queen Ma'at.

Uxbridge, pull yourself together, man.

Sir, I must insist that you refrain from distressing my employees.

And I must insist that you shut down this exhibit.

Shut down the exhibit?! That's impossible.

Out of respect for poor Greenwood. Greenwood would be appalled at the idea.

In that case, the sarcophagus will be coming with me for further analysis. That's absurd!

Sir, if you do not allow me to examine evidence further, I will have to arrest you for impeding a police investigation.

This will not be the last you hear of this.

I don't want to hear any more about this curse. Hear me out, Higgins.

I've learned a great deal from writing my novel. Yes, your novel.

I wondered when you were going to bring it up.

Mock all you like. I've sold 20 books!

I hope you didn't offer a money-back guarantee. Have you even read it?

Of course, George.

Oh, really? What was your favourite part?

I liked the part with the mummy. Yes, that was good.

Also, the, uh... Snake. Oh, Henry, there WAS no snake in my novel!

If you haven't read it, you could just say. George, the snake!

And I mean very carefully, gentlemen.

This sarcophagus is very delicate. It has no business in a police station.

I'm sorry but I have to determine how the snake gained entrance.

They have an astonishing ability to squeeze into the minutest of openings.

The princess will be safe. Have no worry.

Although I am surprised you've concluded that she's only a princess.

The circumstances surrounding her burial would suggest that she's of a higher, more powerful rank.

My thoughts exactly.

But the hieroglyphs are very clear.

They tell us everything except her name.

An interesting puzzle.

One worthy of a detective, perhaps.

Sir... We found the snake.

Where is it? It got away, sir.

Oh!

No, it didn't... it followed you.

Malish, malish, malish...

Every Egyptian child must learn to handle a cobra.

Would you like to...

If you could somehow package that for transport, it would be most appreciated.

Transport? To the police station.

Surely you do not intend on questioning the creature?

In a manner of speaking.

I haven't done a dissection since school.

And never on such a specimen.

And Mr Greenwood?

As it appears. He d*ed from the poisonous bite of the Naja haje. The Egyptian cobra, yes.

Native to northern Africa. As far as we know, we have yet to discover a cobra in the Canadian wild.

But it would be possible for someone to keep one, as a pet.

It would make an excellent pet as it can go for several months without requiring food.

So the cobra could have entered the sarcophagus in Egypt, and have survived the voyage.

Undoubtedly. However...

It ate recently.

It appears so. A mouse, by the looks of it.

That doesn't look like any mouse.

You might be right, Detective. I will endeavour to identify it.

But the question still remains.

How did both of these creatures enter a sealed sarcophagus?

I'm afraid that question is outside my expertise.

I am late for an engagement. I bid you good evening, Detective.

Will you be needing anything else, sir? No, George.

A special occasion, George?

Oh, this?

A book-seller has asked me to attend an autograph session at his establishment this evening, sir.

It seems Curse Of The Pharaohs has become a bestseller.

That's very good news, George. Congratulations. Thank you, sir.

I imagine you're busy, but, if you're not, would you like to attend? I'd be delighted.

I am very honoured to present to you this evening the personal servant of the Unknown Princess.

She would have been ritually k*lled in order to continue on in service to her mistress for all eternity.

Hmm. What do you say to that, Mary? If I die, will you come with me?

The servant was the guardian of the tomb, and was the first mummy we discovered.

Do we imagine that the curse extends to the servant mummies as well as royalty?

No, there is no curse, Mrs McAllister.

It is merely a folk tale designed to deter tomb robbers.

Ah. Come now, ladies.

Let us begin the unwrapping so that the glory of Egypt can be experienced first hand.

And now, ladies, I must depart.

Duty calls, but I leave you in the capable hands of Dr Bajjali.

Mrs McAllister. If you would do us the honour of unwrapping her.

Where should I begin?

Wherever you like.

I hope it won't look TOO hideous.

We are dependent upon the skill of the embalmer. Ah...

Mrs McAllister? Mrs McAllister!

Give us some air, please.

Can I help? No, you can't.

I'm afraid she's dead.

What exactly happened?

Mrs McAllister was unwrapping the mummy, then collapsed.

She d*ed instantly. Any idea why?

I would suggest a heart att*ck, brought on, possibly, by overexcitement.

I'll take the postmortem results as soon as you have them, please.

Detective. I'm surprised to see you here.

We investigate all suspicious deaths.

Suspicious?

Two mummies, two deaths. It does raise an eyebrow.

May I ask why YOU'RE here?

Mrs McAllister was a great friend of the expedition.

Her contributions were substantial.

This mummy was meant to be a thank-you gift.

It seems somewhat macabre.

She was adamant on having an unwrapping party in her salon.

They used to be all the rage in London.

So we were to oblige her.

On whose authority? Mr Rutherford's, of course.

But Mr Rutherford isn't in attendance.

No, but he was. He left just before the incident.

Really? Do you know why?

Something related to the exhibit, I imagine.

And Mr Uxbridge? Phillip only just arrived, to transport the mummy back to the exhibit.

I see.

What have you, George?

Sir, sales remain brisk. All these women are ardent fans.

Also, none of them saw anything out of the ordinary.

It would seem, sir, that she just dropped dead. Right.

I'll need you to transport the mummy back to the station house.

Is that really necessary? She is extremely fragile. I'm afraid so.

Then, at least allow Mr Uxbridge to help you with the transport.

He knows how to handle her properly.

Iris, we can't let this continue.

We have to send it all back. Queen Ma'at, the curse...

Phillip, please, not now. The constable needs your help.

Mr Uxbridge, are you all right? You look quite unwell.

It's the curse.

The curse of the pharaohs?

No. The curse of Queen Ma'at.

It's real. It's happening to me.

It's a very old story.

Queen Ma'at knew she was so disliked by her people that she created a curse to protect her passage to the underworld.

Yes, I believe I've heard this story. If I'm not mistaken, a series of fatal calamities is to befall anyone who has defiled her tomb.

I was the second man in the tomb. The second stage is happening to me.

I thought you were the FIRST man in?

It was Burrows.

Mr Uxbridge, I'll fetch Dr Grace.

No doctor can save me.

The only way to break the curse was to return the mummy to her tomb.

It is said that the curse of Queen Ma'at protects all the royal women of Egypt.

Ma'at is the goddess of law and justice, is she not?

Quite so.

How fitting that you know of her.

Queen Ma'at, however, as a human ruler of Egypt, never actually existed. So, obviously, the curse doesn't exist either.

Although...

Yes?

No. Nothing at all.

It's a Greater Egyptian Gerbil. Not to be confused with the Lesser Egyptian Gerbil.

I take it this species is not native to North America? North Africa.

Which means it's likely the gerbil found its way into the sarcophagus with the snake in Egypt.

Perhaps quite innocently, by means of a small hole, for example.

If so, I've yet to find it.

Have you finished with Mrs McAllister?

It's quite as I suspected. She d*ed of a heart att*ck.

No poisons or other triggers? Nothing at all. Her death was perfectly natural.

Are you quite sure, Doctor, that there was no foul play? Absolutely.

Unless, of course, this mummy was cursed after all.

I'd like you to revisit your conclusion.

Detective, I can assure you, I completed the assessment fully, and to the letter. I have no doubt in your ability.

Dr Ogden's recommendation is quite sufficient in that regard.

However, I must insist that you re-examine Mrs McAllister.

And what am I looking for?

Whatever it is you missed the first time.

Oi!

It looks like a bloody museum in here.

So, what have you discovered?

I've been unable to determine how the snake got in the sarcophagus, and my tests on the second mummy haven't yielded any cause for Mrs McAllister's heart att*ck. So nothing at all.

Well, I'm convinced there's an explanation, sir, I just have to find it.

Good news, George?

Indeed! This curse has whetted the public's appetite for a good Egyptian yarn.

My book is going into a second printing as we speak.

Ah, Inspector, would you like a signed copy?

One for the missus? It's proving to be most popular with the ladies.

I'd like you to remember that while you're in this station, you're a policeman.

Exclusively.

Is that a yes?

That's a "get back to work, before I take that uniform and stick it on that bloody mummy! "

Sirs, I wanted to speak to you about the legend of Queen Ma'at.

Oh, here we go. I came upon the legend while researching my book.

Bloody hell, Crabtree. We've had werewolves, voodoo, vampires, and now mummies.

It's all bollocks. I beg to differ, sir.

Mummies have been cursing people since as early as 1699, when a Frenchman, Louis Penicher, reported that a ship transporting two mummies was plagued by extraordinarily stormy seas until the mummies were thrown overboard.

French bloody sissies.

Sir, Dr Bajjali mentioned the curse to me as well.

Perhaps it will yield us a clue. This is MY thinking, sir.

Uxbridge claims that he was present at the beginning of the curse.

In fact, he himself believes he is afflicted. Obviously a reliable source.

Go on, George. Well, sir, Uxbridge whispered something in my ear about "burrows", and then he left. Burrows?

It turns out there was a Luther Burrows attached to the expedition.

Where is he now?

He's dead. He d*ed of a fever. It turns out Uxbridge was not the first man into the tomb. It was Burrows, who d*ed shortly thereafter.

Let me guess. That was a part of the curse?

Sirs, I've taken the liberty of writing down the stages of the curse on this chalkboard.

As you can see, we've already got some corroboration.

The first three stages of the curse have already been fulfilled.

"Stage one... death by brain fire."

A fever. That was Burrows? The first man into the tomb.

"Stage two... suffering that never ends."

Uxbridge believes that to be himself. Clearly he's suffering from some strange illness.

"Stage three... the bite of an asp."

Are you sure you didn't make this up?

No, sir. Now, the fourth stage is somewhat harder to explain.

"The cessation of the soul." Seems an odd one to me. And the fifth?

Stranger, again, sir.

"The revenge of Anubis."

Who?

Anubis, sir. A god of the Underworld. It's said he'd guide souls on their journey.

Yes, sir. He had the head of a jackal. Of course he did!

Excuse me, sirs. We've found the owner of the snake. One Fouad Sharif.

Leave our ancestors at peace.

Gentlemen, I am completely within my rights to protest peacefully.

Mr Sharif, what can you tell me about snakes?

Specifically an Egyptian cobra.

The sacred asp is a symbol of the pharaohs, to be feared and worshipped as one and the same.

Indeed.

You boarded a steamer in Liverpool, with one such snake in your possession, did you not?

It was a gift from my grandfather, to help remind me of my duty.

Strange then, that when you made land in Halifax, the steward's account of the luggage made no mention of this basket.

Yes. It went missing. You didn't report it?

It seemed unwise to cause a panic.

You're aware that you were on the same sailing transporting the Rutherford expedition?

Of course. How am I to object to the desecration of my culture if I cannot confront the vandals themselves?

Perhaps you are also aware of how your cobra managed to enter their sealed sarcophagus.

I am not.

Do you know of the curse of Queen Ma'at?

You Westerners are all so simple-minded.

The curse is on you... for refusing to acknowledge that to defile our dead is an abomination against all humanity.

Detective, I'm glad you're here.

You are a disgrace to our homeland. I could say the same about you.

You... Lay a hand on this woman, and I will have you behind bars.

Please, leave him be. I provoked him. I should have known better.

Would you have a moment to talk?

Yes, of course.

George, I want a 24-hour watch on Mr Sharif.

I want to know his every move. Yes, sir.

And now, with this visit to North America, I can say I have set foot on all five continents.

Incredible adventures, Dr Bajjali.

Please, call me Iris. Iris.

This has been a welcome respite from the exhibit. Oh? Why is that?

It is quickly becoming a sideshow.

Desmond Rutherford is so focused on the money this exhibit is bringing in, he has decided not to bother returning to Egypt.

Is that so? It took me years to get on an expeditionary team over there.

Because you're a woman.

Mm.

I suppose I shouldn't complain.

At least I'm not lying dead, like poor Mrs McAllister.

Have you any news of what k*lled her? A heart att*ck, it would seem.

Oh, how very tragic.

In Ancient Egypt, the heart was thought to house the soul.

As in "the cessation of the soul"?

From the curse of Queen Ma'at?

Yes, I suppose a heart att*ck would fit.

Do YOU believe in the curse?

Do you not find contradictions between your religious beliefs and scientific truths? That doesn't answer my question.

I am a woman of science. Everything has an explanation.

Though, there is a certain allure in the idea that the responsibility of choice is out of our control.

Perhaps. But that isn't my cup of tea.

Your cup of tea? What I mean to say is...

Thank you, sir.

Afternoon edition. Mummy Princess cursing Toronto!

Thank you, sir.

The afternoon edition. I... I think it turned out rather well.

You mean you knew about this? I rather think I'm aware of when my photograph is being taken.

Do you realise the kind of attention this is going to attract? The overwhelming kind, I hope.

I remind you that the deaths of Mr Greenwood and Mrs McAllister are still under investigation.

Mrs McAllister?! The woman d*ed of a heart att*ck.

I fail to see what you could possibly need to investigate.

Leave that to me.

Happily. And you leave the running of tonight's show to me.

So it's a show now? Certainly. New lighting, new decor.

Mr Barnum will be turning in his grave with envy.

Because unlike him, I deliver.

Deliver what? The curse, of course.

In action. Desmond, don't be such a fool.

Iris, stay out of this. These are the affairs of men.

You mean it takes a man to turn a 5,000-year-old culture into a travelling circus?

Precisely.

Doctor! Aaargh!

Anubis!

Forgive us. Please...

Pity that didn't happen during the show.

Higgins! What on earth is going on here?! What do they want? You.

Me?! It seems your book and this supposed curse have turned you into a celebrity!

I don't know what to do.

I'd make a break for it if I were you.

Murdoch. I hear you had a brush with the curse.

I'm perfectly fine, sir.

George? Are you quite all right? You look rather persecuted.

Price of fame, sir.

Sir, I've narrowed our list of suspects.

This is a list of events relating to the curse, and a list of the people who were present during those events.

Now, Dr Bajjali can be excluded because she was the intended victim of the most recent att*ck.

Or you were, and she planned it. I find that highly unlikely, sir.

I see you've ruled out the Egyptian. Yes, sir.

Mr Sharif seems as though he had the strongest motive, but he doesn't appear to have had opportunity. Rutherford it is.

He appears to be our strongest suspect, yes.

Right. Let's bring him in. Sir, I would prefer to leave him to his own devices.

You want to catch him in the act?

A bit of a dangerous game, don't you think? It is, sir, but I don't yet have the evidence to support his guilt. Right, then. Crabtree, put a man on him. Yes, sir. Oh, and, Crabtree, you'd better find somewhere other than my station for your gaggle of admirers to run riot.

Yes, sir.

Price of fame...

Oh, er, I imagine she's here to see you.

Dr Bajjali? I've asked for her expert consultation.

Murdoch... I don't like dragging up the past, but it does bear reminding.

You aren't always the most circumspect when an attractive woman is involved.

I'll keep that in mind. Hmm.

Ah, ma'am. Doctor. How good of you to come.

Detective.

So you're no further along in identifying the mummy princess. No.

It wasn't unusual for royalty to be erased from history.

But even so, I've never seen anyone quite so thoroughly expunged as this.

This is a passage from The Book Of The Dead.

The funerary text of Ancient Egypt.

Indeed. Although the name is misleading.

Because it's not an actual book at all, but a series of spells and incantations, meant to guide the dead to the Underworld.

Your knowledge of Egypt never ceases to amaze me.

You're absolutely certain that the sarcophagus had never been previously opened, and I have failed to find an entry point for the cobra.

If there had been an opening, I would have seen it.

Although that is not this coffin's only mystery. Oh? Here.

The gold leaf appears to have a gypsum base, which is characteristic of a period much older than the rest of the decoration suggests.

Gypsum...

I have an idea.

What is that?

Something that may help solve your mystery. Gypsum is calcium sulphate.

It fluoresces under ultraviolet light.

It can't be!

"Here lies the body of Queen Ma'at."
My God.

She really did exist.

And so must her curse.

How do you mean? I didn't want to let myself believe, but everything fits.

Even our near miss. The revenge of Anubis.

There are only two stages left.

The next is the consumption of Ra's power.

I must get back to the exhibit. Are you sure that's wise, Doctor?

Would you stop working on a case because your life was threatened?

Curse, eh?

Gently... please.

Thank you. Mr Rutherford.

Ah, Detective! So glad you could make it.

Tonight's event will be one for the history books.

I'll need you to accompany me to the station house.

I'm afraid I'm otherwise occupied at the moment.

You are the prime suspect in two deaths and an attempted m*rder.

If you wish to clear your name, I suggest you come with me.

You really are too much. If you had any evidence, you would have arrested me already.

You had the means and the opportunity to create this curse, and whip the city into near hysteria.

What's more, you are profiting from the tragic death of others.

Detective Murdoch, I am not a m*rder*r.

I've done nothing more than seize an opportunity.

Uxbridge, see to the detective. Make sure he has a good spot to watch the proceedings.

Enjoy the show.

Are you quite all right, sir? Shut it down.

I'm sorry? The exhibit. You said you would shut it down.

The curse...

You know who's responsible? Queen Ma'at, of course.

Don't you trust your own eyes?

Sir.

I just got a report from Constable Armstrong, who was watching Mr Sharif.

Armstrong, George? He believes he heard Mr Sharif have a conversation that he thought to be conspiratorial in nature and in a foreign tongue.

Are you quite sure? Armstrong hears conspiracies around every corner. I know. He's quite convinced.

And who did he say Mr Sharif was speaking to?

That lady archaeologist, Dr Bajjali.

Iris?

Queen Ma'at, worshipper of justice.

Earthly vessel of the laws of the gods.

Stripped of her dignity.

Her place in history washed away by the sands of time.

A woman forced to face judgement...

Sharif.

It's her.

I prayed it wasn't.

I'm sorry?

Iris. She's of royal blood. Descended from the pharaohs.

She is their earthly vessel of revenge.

Ladies and gentlemen, no longer the Unknown Princess, I present to you the legendary, cursed...

Queen Ma'at.

The body is with Dr Grace, sir.

Very good, George. And we apprehended Mr Sharif. He was at Union Station.

We're bringing him into custody now. Excellent.

Once she's changed, please escort Dr Bajjali to the station house.

Yes, sir.

It seems your chart was wrong.

I hadn't counted on a partnership, sir.

Maybe you should take him, and I'll deal with the lady.

Sir, perhaps your style of questioning would be better suited to the male suspect.

Perhaps.

Oh, but, Murdoch, one thing. Yes?

She may be a m*rder*r. Remember that.

Let's not waste any more time, shall we?

I know you and the girl were in on it together.

What girl? In on what?

You and Mr Sharif are acquainted, are you not, Dr Bajjali?

Dr Bajjali?

Please answer the question.

Yes, you know we are.

Perhaps I'm not making myself clear.

You and Mr Sharif are WELL acquainted.

I have no idea what you're talking about. Oh, I think you do.

You've been wanting to shut down this exhibit all along.

Yes, but not like this. I cannot explain what has been happening.

You mean how the two Egyptians associated with the exhibit managed to dodge this supposed curse?

Because we are both Egyptians we must be co-conspirators?

Is that it? Really, William.

It's Detective Murdoch.

Is it? I think I'll be going.

Not until you explain why the two of you were seen clandestinely meeting.

That's ridiculous. Is it?

You have no proof. You were always around the exhibit.

How could I protest against it if I wasn't there?! Or how could you sabotage it, if you wasn't there?

Sabotage? How? I had no access to any of the artefacts.

Not you, perhaps.

But a well-placed partner in the expeditionary team would.

I believed Mr Sharif to be guilty.

I sought to gain his trust, and approached him as a friend.

The two of you were speaking Arabic, so no-one can confirm this.

Mr Sharif can.

An unsatisfactory corroboration.

Do you really believe that I would be party to the ruination of everything I have worked so hard for?

With Mr Greenwood and Mr Rutherford dead, you'd be able to take over the exhibit.

You would like that, wouldn't you?

Yes. But only to present it with dignity, respect.

You had access to the sarcophagus.

You demonstrated an ability to handle a deadly cobra.

You knew well enough to tamper with electrical wires.

You were present at every death.

You used the curse to cover your tracks.

How dare you... accuse me!

And what of the attempt on MY life?

I believe that was meant for me.

Ridiculous! You weren't part of the expedition.

How could you be part of the curse?

Detective, I...

Dr Grace, it is highly inappropriate for you to interrupt me in the middle of an interrogation. I must insist you learn to knock.

Quite right. But this cannot wait. I had a thought.

I'm sure we can discuss your thought at a more suitable moment.

Of course. It struck me that although we discovered that the snake had eaten the gerbil, we neglected to find out what the gerbil had eaten. Which undoubtedly you know. Indeed.

A paste made from a herbal remedy for fevers.

Egyptian camomile.

I trust that was worth the interruption?

Irving, please tell the inspector that Mr Sharif is free to go.

Thank you, Doctor. That was very helpful indeed.

It's time to pack up the exhibit.

That's hardly your decision.

Trust me, Iris.

Phillip, you really must see a doctor.

Every time I see you, you look worse and worse.

You're sending everything back. The curse will be broken.

What are you talking about? The exhibit will move to Chicago... you know that.

You can't do that.

Phillip, you have a fever. You're not thinking straight.

If she doesn't go away, the k*lling will continue.

Phillip, there is no curse! Can't you see what's happening around you?

I refuse to believe that a children's story is going to k*ll me.

That's what Burrows said just before he d*ed. And then I got sick, and I haven't got better.

The only way that we can break the curse is to send everything back to Egypt.

Please.

I don't want you to be next.

The exhibit will go on as planned.

I can't let you do that.

Uxbridge!

Iris, are you all right?

Why did you do it?

It wasn't me! It was Queen Ma'at.

It was you that put the snake in the sarcophagus.

I found the compartment. It was you that tipped the frieze of Anubis... only it wasn't meant for me, was it?

k*lling a police officer wouldn't prove the curse.

You weren't supposed to be there. It was you that frayed the wires to the switch.

You knew Rutherford would want to light the stage himself. He had to be stopped.

If you would have listened to me, no-one would have got k*lled.

And Mrs McAllister?

That wasn't me. How did you induce her heart att*ck?

I didn't k*ll her, I swear. How did you do...

Stop!

Stop!

Out of the way! Phillip!

Why the long face, eh? Another case is solved.

There are no more rotting corpses hanging around my station house.

In fact, it's a good day, young Crabtree. So why don't you take the rest of it off, and go and tend to your adoring public?

Sir, it seems my book is not quite as popular as it once was.

Fame is a fickle mistress. Yes, sir.

Crabtree...

My wife has been nagging me for that signed copy of your book.

Driving me crackers, she is.

Oh! Happy to oblige, sir. Anything for the missus.

Sir, I imagine you'll be interested in the idea I have for my next book.

Leprechauns. Now, what people don't realise is leprechauns are actually nasty little beasts with very sharp teeth.

And their gold is hidden at the end of a rainbow, but only a handful of people have ever even been...

Detective, I...

Dr Grace.

I've concluded my examination of Mr Uxbridge. It was quite illuminating.

Oh? How so? He d*ed due to injuries caused by the fire truck.

And you found that to be illuminating?

Not at all.

Rather, that otherwise he seemed to have been in perfect health.

Are you quite sure? He looked to be on the brink of death.

I discovered that the camomile he was constantly eating was laced with mandrake. Mandrake? The poison?

Yes, but the dosage he was exposed to wasn't fatal.

The plants were likely grown together. It's not uncommon.

Could the mandrake have caused the fever-like symptoms?

No. But it would have caused rather vivid hallucinations.

He probably SAW the curse, so to speak.

Fascinating. He believed in his ailment so strongly, he willed it to manifest itself. Indeed.

Truly mind over matter, as they say.

And Mrs McAllister?

It really was just a heart att*ck.

The coincidence that proves the rule.

Dr Grace...

Good work. Thank you.

So, off to Chicago then, to restage the exhibit?

Actually, I've found it a permanent home there. No more circus act.

Just... a nice quiet museum.

And will you be making a home there as well?

Oh, no. I'm not the home-making type.

But, if all goes according to plan, I will be back among pyramids very soon... only, this time in the Mexican rainforest. Chichen Itza.

Mayan ruins! How wonderful!

You would like it, I think.

The thrill of discovery is the same, regardless of what it is one discovers.

Do you remember the last stage of the curse?

Ra will send his chariot of fire.

Or his fire wagon?

Perhaps science can't explain everything, after all.

Goodbye, William. Goodbye, Iris.