01x12 - m*rder in the Dark

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Arthur!

Come inside at once!

Can't you hear me calling?

What are you eating?

Shh, shh.

Shh, you'll wake her.

Dear God!

I've found another costume, Miss, but they'll all need a good airing before we pack them.

Don't worry, Dot.

We have a couple of days left before the ball.

So that's a Roman warrior, a clown, a Little Red Riding Hood, the Wolf, an angel and I'll pack Cleopatra separately so the frock won't crush.

Wonderful.

There's nothing I like better than a fancy dress ball, although it does seem an odd choice for an engagement party.

I am surprised your Aunt Prudence doesn't think it unseemly, Miss.

I'm sure she does.

But my darling cousin Guy has always found a way to wrap the old dear around his little pinkie.

Mr Butler, any chance of a broken fan belt or a flat tyre today?

No chance at all, Miss.

Your motor car is running like a dream.

I'll get it.

Hello, Miss Fisher speaking.

Aunt Prudence... Luncheon's off?

What a shame.

Oh, no.

Yes, of course.

Did you call the police?

Leave it to me.

Connect me to City South Police Station, please.

Detective Jack Robinson.

It's urgent.

Put another pin in your hat, Dot.

You're in for a very fast ride.

Phryne, this is a complete disaster!

The poor, unfortunate girl.

Two days before the engagement party.

Don't worry, Mother.

There can be no question of the party going ahead.

Hello, Guy.

Cousin Phryne.

Excuse me, I'm a little damp.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion when we met again.

Miss Williams, pleasure.

So who is she?

Marigold Brown.

She's the stablehand's daughter.

I engaged her as chambermaid.

I-I think we should wait for the police to arrive.

Phryne! Don't touch her.

Pretty girl.

Inspector's coming, Miss.

You made it here in alarmingly good time.

I know a shortcut.

Where was she found?

Floating in the middle of the swimming pool.

I walked this way at about nine o'clock for the roses but I saw nothing suspicious then.

Who pulled her out of the water?

My son, Guy.

It was after ten o'clock.

I had a mad hope she might still be alive.

Looks like she hit her head.

Perhaps on the edge of the pool.

Such a tragic mishap.

Come, Mother.

Well, come on.

What's your theory?

Take a look around her collar.

This girl didn't drown.

She was strangled.

m*rder*d?! The poor, poor girl.

When was she last seen?

Did anyone spot her this morning?

I'll have to ask my housekeeper, Mrs Truebody.

Phryne, would you ring the bell, please?

I told you to stay in your room.

I want to play with Marigold.

W-Where is she?

She's sleeping, my darling boy.

Ah, look who's just arrived.

Cousin Phryne.

And look what I have for you.

Gobstoppers.

They're enormous!

You can't have them unless you go back to your room.

As you see, Detective Inspector, my son is...

Well, his faculties are limited.

We'll need to speak to every member of the household all the same.

Including Arthur.

Of course.

The girl's father.

Where can we find him?

Herbert Brown? He lodges behind the stable house.

Oh, where in heaven's name is Mrs Truebody?

She was only 16.

Still a little girl.

I've done my best since we lost her mother.

Thank God she's not here for this.

When was the last time you saw your daughter?

That would have been last night.

About bedtime. Marigold likes to check on me of an evening.

But you didn't see her this morning?

She stays up at the servant quarters in the main house since they put her on as a maid.

She was coming up in the world.

I'm afraid I have to ask where you were this morning.

Just for the record, between nine and ten o'clock.

Where I always am - mucking out the stables.

Can anyone confirm this for us?

Anyone here?

Yes. Mr Guy.

He came over to look at the horses.

Oh, that's right.

He asked me to saddle up a couple of mounts for him.

Him and his lady friend.

I had breakfast with my ravishing bride-to-be, Isabella, in my room.

What time was that?

Early, must have been nine.

Practically the cr*ck of dawn.

What'd you do after that?

The usual.

Just came downstairs, nabbed the newspaper, wafted about the garden.

Anywhere near the stables?

Yes, actually.

Now you mention it, I went to see my old horses.

What time would that have been?

Ah, I've never really been a watch-the-clock type of fellow.

Was anyone else there?

Just Herbert.

Mother inherited him when the neighbour sold off their nags for sports cars.

I mean... I mean, he does know his horseflesh, though.

Oh, surely you don't think he had anything to do with his daughter's death?

We're just eliminating him from our enquiries as we'll be doing with the rest of the household.

Tell me, when might we speak with your fiance?

Isabella. Phryne Fisher.

Ah! The cousin.

We've met, haven't we? That dazzling party in Charing Cross.

Guy ended up on the dining table reciting an indecent version of The Boy Stood On The Burning Deck.

Ah, yes!

Darling, Phryne's just reminding me of the night we fell in love.

At least she knows what a terrible rake she's marrying.

I think we're perfectly suited.

When you're ready, Inspector Robinson's waiting for you in the front parlour.

Oh!

Should I dress, or not?

How good-looking is he?

Phryne, I'm sorry I can't offer you tea.

I've just been told my housekeeper left at dawn.

The police won't be happy about that.

That's the second one since we arrived.

What do you do to your staff, Mrs Stanley?

Mrs Truebody just upped and left without any reason?

Apart from your aunt telling her the croquembouche tower looked like someone stuck a pin in it.

This is turning out to be such a beastly day.

You do realise we'll have to cancel the party, Isabella.

Absolutely.

It's so adorably Australian.

Where else but in the Antipodes would an entire household go into mourning over a stablehand's daughter, sweet as the girl was.

That shouldn't bother you.

Everybody who's worth knowing lives in London anyway, don't they?

True. It was a silly idea of Guy's foisting the engagement on his poor mother.

It was not silly at all!

If the wedding is to be held overseas, it's perfectly reasonable I should host the engagement.

Well, it's a moot point now.

Excuse me, I have a date with a policeman.

It's probably all for the best, Mother.

I think you should go ahead as planned, Aunt Prudence.

I'll loan you my staff.

Would you really?

Although I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate.

There's nothing more you can do for Marigold and some of your guests have sailed from England.

What about the catering?

Would that be...?

Up to scratch?

Mr Butler is cordon bleu trained.

Oh!

We'll need waiters and footmen.

I know a couple of gentlemen who might fit the bill in an antipodean kind of way.

If that would help?

You know, I believe it would.

Thank you.

Ah! Hello there.

Which one of you wants to inspect me?

No drag marks.

Not so much as a snapped twig.

Then I'd say somebody carried her, already strangled, and just dropped her in the pool.

What about Herbert?

His alibi matched up with your cousin's story.

He was saddling the horses for a bit of a gallop around the estate.

Isn't that what the upper class do of a morning?

Possibly but not Guy.

He was kicked in the teeth by a foreshore pony at the age of eight and he's refused to mount anything equine ever since.

Why would Herbert lie about saddling the horses?

And why would Guy go anywhere near the stables in the first place?

What about Isabella?

Anything worth noting?

Not apart from her outfit.

We're just about done with the household, aren't we, Collins?

Apart from the housekeeper?

Yes, sir.

Mrs Truebody lived in so there's no home address.

But I have the name of the agency she was registered with.

Good. Let's get back to the station.

We can track it down.

What about the discrepancy between Guy and Herbert's evidence?

We're pursuing it.

I'd say a poorly thought-out collusion.

Possibly. But right now, I'm late for another appointment.

Who's your appointment with?

Barrister. Must be some kind of court appearance.

Get moving, Collins!

I hope no ants followed you in.

I'm not sure what it means but I found it under the hedge after you rushed off for more urgent matters.

How did you go with your barrister?

What?

Hugh mentioned it in passing.

Tricky case coming up?

Um, my most challenging yet but not one that concerns you.

'Minor abrasion to forehead, severe bruising to neck and windpipe, inflicted prior to immersion.

Most likely cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation.'

No surprises there.

Read on.

'Welt marks to the upper back'?

Someone was belting her.

'No evidence of forced sexual penetration, however deceased was not a virgin.'

And the toxicology report say she consumed copious amounts of alcohol the night before she d*ed.

She didn't lead a sheltered life, then.

And there could be a boyfriend we should be suspecting somewhere if we dig a little deeper.

Jane, how nice to see you.

And Mr Butler.

At your service, Mrs Stanley.

Where are the others?

Cec and Bert were right behind us.

Not those two ex-wharfie rabble-rousers.

You wanted staff, Aunt Prudence.

You still have a full day to get them into line.

Ah! Mr Albert Johnson and Mr Cecil Yates.

I'm sure you've met my aunt, Mrs Prudence Stanley.

G'day.

This'll shape up very nicely by tomorrow.

Do be careful!

Each bottle of that champagne is worth more than your weekly wage!

Must be bloody liquid gold.

French? How heavenly.

Guy seems to have made a mistake.

I ordered two dozen, not 20 dozen.

I gather you are paying for it.

Where is Guy, anyway?

Finishing the clues for the treasure hunt.

Mrs Stanley, your honest opinion?

Oh, my stars.

Do you think the wig is too much?

I... know you bright young things like to whoop it up a bit but please remember some of our guests are highly influential people.

Isabella, my ward, Jane.

How do you do?

Is that your costume for the party?

Yes, I'm Lady Godiva.

Ugh!

I thought you were Eve.

Godiva didn't have a fig leaf.

Oh! Clever girl.

Please! Not here!

Jane, why don't you go into the kitchen and ask Mr Butler for some tea?

They're so sweet at that age.

Poor little Marigold and that villain of a father.

I hope they hang him.

Isabella!

Who else would have done it?

He was an old soak.

Poor Mr Brown.

Is he a drinker? I don't know what she's talking about.

Lord Fraser couldn't recommend him highly enough. Ridiculous!

Mr Brown?

I stopped in to have a word with your aunt's neighbour on the way here.

According to Lord Fraser, Herbert Brown was quick to use a whip and not just on his horses.

And it seems he liked more than a drop of cheap, nasty hard liquor.

Doesn't look too cheap to me.

Can I help you?

How did you come by this, Mr Brown?

The usual way. At the pub.

You wouldn't find this at your local watering hole.

It's one of the most expensive scotch whiskeys in the world.

I didn't know that. It was a present. Mr Guy gave it to me.

Why?

He must appreciate my hard work.

Did Marigold mention anyone mistreating her?

Punishing her for anything?

Not that I recall, why?

There were welt marks on your daughter's body.

Perhaps you mistook her for a horse.

I may have taken the belt to her once or twice for her own good.

The lads were like bees around a honey pot.

I didn't want her to get knocked up.

What was I supposed to do?

Now if you're done with me, I've got things I should do.

Of course.

He doesn't impress me with his child-rearing skills.

I'm not convinced he's a k*ller either.

What if it's not Guy covering up for Herbert Brown but the other way round?

That would explain the bottle of scotch.

Ah, there you are, sir.

Ah, I contacted the agency but Mrs Truebody hasn't been in contact since they placed with Miss Fisher's aunt.

So she left in a hurry with no forwarding address and no position to move on to.

Do you think she's our k*ller, sir?

Or she knows who is.

Either way, we seem to have reached a dead end.

I know you interviewed all the staff.

But never underestimate the power of downstairs gossip.

Mrs Truebody can't have disappeared.

She was headed for a holiday cottage at Inverloch.

Goes there once a year to take the sea air, apparently.

What was that name again?

Sea Wind. Sea View or something.

Sea Breeze.

Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages.

Any problems, Mr Butler?

No, Mrs Stanley.

Everything is going very well.

Find a safe place to store that, good chap.

Is that your famous English fudge?

Ah, you wouldn't like it, Mother.

It's made with figs.

Ugh!

May I ask, Miss Fisher, what is so special about this fudge?

Apart from the country of origin, of course.

Believe me, Mr Butler, it's very special indeed.

Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages, Inverloch.

Kah... rr... mm... ss. Crumbs.

Breadcrumbs! Breadcrumbs!

I'm reading Hansel And Gretel.

I just taught him a few words.

It's a present. A present!

When I do not bring you a present?

Hope you haven't chosen your costume yet.

Since Hansel and Gretel is your favourite fairytale.

I'm going to be Hansel.

I-I'm going to be Hansel and, and guess who's going to be Gretel?

Who?

Guess.

Marigold!

She, she, she loves fairytales.

Darling...

Marigold isn't here anymore.

Where is she?

She had to go away.

Because of me?

No, of course not.

Yes it is. Because I didn't give her my toffee apple.

A-and Mother's cross too because I'm not supposed to have sweeties.

Tell me, did you see Marigold?

Phryne! That's enough.

Why did you tell Jack Robinson it was you who found Marigold?

I did find her.

Arthur had no idea she was dead.

Still doesn't, I hope.

Well, somebody should tell him.

He has a right to know.

How long is it now since Little Janey disappeared, Phryne?

Arthur was still a boy when your sister went missing.

He still has bad dreams, still awakes in the night, calling for her. Well, this time there's no reason to hope.

The kindest thing you can do for Arthur is tell him that.

Arthur!

Janey!

Arthur, stop it at once!

Janey!

For pity's sake!

Janey, come back!

Shh...

I was just teaching him my name, that's all!

I just want Janey to come back.

Does he mean Marigold?

Did the woodcutter hurt Marigold?

No. You've got it wrong.

There was no woodcutter.

He was in the garden and he gave her a toffee apple.

I saw him!

Here?

And where were you?

Hiding?

The woodcutter gave you an apple?

To go away.

But I didn't go away.

And then...

You saw the woodcutter with Marigold.

She wasn't asleep, was she?

The woodcutter k*lled her with his axe, didn't he?

Yes, dear.

I wish I had an axe.

I'd go and I'd find him and I'd chop him up.

No, don't talk like that.

Arthur, was it someone we know?

Marigold's father?

Someone else from the house?

What did he look like?

Tall? Short?

What colour hair?

No, no, it was the woodcutter.

I saw him.

The same one.

The one who took Janey.

That's not possible.

There was a toffee apple left behind when Janey disappeared.

I've tried to dismiss it as coincidence.

That's all it is.

Murdoch Foyle d*ed in prison.

But what if he's duped us all?

With trickery or he paid people to help feign his death so that we all think he's gone but he's just biding his time, waiting to strike.

Strike whom?

Me.

So why would he k*ll Marigold?

It's a game, of cat and mouse. He knew Prudence Stanley was my aunt.

It's been all over the society pages with Guy's engagement.

Foyle's dead, Phryne.

But Arthur said it was the same man who took Janey.

He identified him in a police line-up!

With all due respect, your cousin can't pick the difference between fairytales and reality.

Why connect it with Foyle?

Marigold's death reminded him of Janey's and whoever he saw, he decided it was the same bogeyman.

The woodcutter.

If it wasn't Murdoch Foyle, who was it?

The housekeeper saw Marigold with someone before she left.

Who?

She's on her way back to Melbourne by train, compliments of the Victorian Police Force, to tell us in person.

Your invitation.

To Guy and Isabella's party.

As my partner.

Oh, Miss Fisher, I really don't think...

You still have a m*rder case to solve and what better way to gather information than to mingle with the crowd?

Besides, I need you to remind me not to be afraid of shadows.

Do you really think Mr Foyle is still alive, Miss?

Perhaps he's just haunting me, Dot.

Jack's right.

It's not logical.

Let's hope a hot bath will bring me to my senses.

I want you to check again.

On Murdoch Foyle.

Not you too, Dottie.

He tried to escape from prison, the plan went wrong and he was cremated instead.

So there's no way of digging him up to check.

Isn't that suspicious?

It's what his mother wanted.

It was at her request.

Then get me her name.

You sound just like Miss Fisher. Why can't you trust the records?

Because records can be falsified.

And in all the time I've been Miss Phryne's companion, her instincts have never been wrong.

Yes, well, there's always a first.

So does that mean you're going to help me or not?

I'll see what I can do.

No, I'm not wearing that.

You need to look the part.

And what part's that? Part penguin, part panda bloody bear?

Ah! There you are, Phryne.

Did you remember to collect the petit fours?

I did, if Cec and Bert would unload them from the car.

Ah... Don't waste a trip.

You can take Marigold's things back to her father.

What things?

Don't worry about it.

The police have finished with them. Follow me, young men.

Why did we agree to this job?

It's only for the early part of the evening.

And I need you to keep an eye on Jane.

Leave the bag, Cec.

I'll deliver it myself.

Miss Fisher! Excuse me, Miss.

You'd better come quick.

Mr Butler!

Mr Butler!

How much fudge did you eat?

One, two... Buckle my shoe.

Two pieces?

Three... Four!

Four pieces?!

And he's still standing.

What is wrong with the fudge?

It's laced with hash.

Do you mean hashish?

Highest quality, if I know Guy.

Thank you.

Mrs Truebody's train arrives at four, sir.

Well, if I'm not back by then, you'll have to interview her yourself.

Uh, but I thought she had important evidence, sir?

I hope she does, Collins.

But I'm not sure when I'll be released from court and I have faith in your abilities.

Thank you, sir.

Ah, which court house is it?

Just in case I need to find you.

The Federal Magistrate's.

That's the Divorce Court, isn't it, sir?

I believe so.

Well, good luck, sir.

Oh, I do feel q*eer.

Lie him down somewhere, Bert.

Sleep's the best thing.

Good idea.

Going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

What's wrong with Mr Butler?

He took a liking to Guy's fudge.

Don't press me, Dot dear.

You would be very shocked.

Now tell me, what do you make of these?

Why, they're lovely, Miss.

Such beautiful silk tatting.

Are they French?

I suspect so. They're not mine.

The stitching is practically invisible.

They must have cost a penny.

Too many pennies for Marigold Brown.

They must have been a present.

Possibly from a gentleman friend.

That's a very inappropriate sort of present.

A rich gentleman friend given to inappropriate behaviour.

Who springs immediately to mind?

Mr Guy.

So where's the Inspector?

Surely, he gave you some indication of when he'd return?

He didn't seem to know.

Never mind.

I'm heading past the court house on my way back to Aunt Prudence's.

I can catch him there.

No, no, Miss, I... don't think he would like that very much.

Why not?

Ah, he... I think it might be a personal matter.

Personal?

He hasn't robbed a bank, has he?

He... He's...

Mrs Truebody is waiting for her tea.

THE housekeeper?

Has she been helpful?

She says she has...

She says she has information but she says it's delicate and she's demanding to speak to a lady police officer.

There are only four of them in the state!

I tried to explain.

Perhaps a lady investigator would do?

I've done my best for that household, Miss Fisher.

I know Mrs Stanley can be a demanding employer but I have exacting standards myself.

So that's not why you left?

No.

There was an unfortunate incident the night before.

I went upstairs to turn down the bed in Mr Guy's room.

I knocked but nobody answered.

So you went in?

Oh, it's a sight I won't forget in a hurry.

Like Sodom and Gomorrah.

Guy and his fiance?

I'd say so.

But to tell the truth, I couldn't see their faces, the two young ladies.

Only Mr Guy's.

So I couldn't stay under the same roof after that and I didn't know how to tell poor Mrs Stanley.

Have a look at these, Bluebeard.

Look familiar?

Which one of you gave Marigold French underwear?

Stupid woman should have knocked.

She was barely 16! Oh, don't go all moralistic on us, Phryne.

You like your meat tender too.

We had some perfectly lovely times, the three of us.

Then Guy had to go and spoil it all.

It wasn't my fault.

The little minx followed me down to the cellar when I went to get supplies.

She pleaded with Guy to take her back to London with us.

Even threatened to claim we'd forced her.

Well, there's your motive.

Her father's the one with the motive.

He found us in the cellar.

It was jolly embarrassing.

It was Marigold's blood he was baying for, though.

He dragged her off, called her a slut and a whore, making a dickens of a row.

I had to appropriate a bottle of something expensive and go after them to calm things down.

So for the sake of a drink, Herbert was prepared to overlook his daughter's cavorting?

No, he must have k*lled her.

Why else would he be blackmailing me into giving him an alibi?

So if you weren't with Herbert, what's your alibi?

I was with Isabella in the library until after ten.

Hmm, I had an appointment with the florist.

She kept banging on about the symbolism of orchids and stephanotis until Guy's mother started screaming about Marigold.

Cleopatra. Oh, what an asp!

Now Phrynekins, about this Marigold business.

Don't make a fracas tonight.

Think what it will do to Mother.

Don't worry, Guy.

Aunt Prudence is in for a difficult enough evening as it is.

I won't make it worse.

I do love you.

So you should.

You look perfect.

Thank you. So do you.

Now, only lemonade tonight and no fudge.

Oh, someone left a note for you.

It's still upstairs on the dressing table.

I'll get it.

I'm going to check on Arthur.

Arthur?

Hello, Arthur.

Why aren't you at the party?

Mother says Guy doesn't want me.

I can deal with Guy.

I'll be good. I'll read my book.

You'll miss out on all the fun.

There's going to be a treasure hunt.

I brought you some treats.

Not hungry.

You might change your mind.

Is Mr Butler going to be alright?

He'll be fine. It was just a reaction to some fudge.

He must be allergic to figs.

I found out more about Murdoch Foyle's cremation.

It was at the request of his mother, Mrs Gertrude Clark.

Her name's not Foyle?

She was a foster mother so I checked with Welfare and they remembered her because she was charged with maltreating six orphans in her care... starvation and brutality.

She spent two and a half years in prison.

I've been through her file.

Well, she doesn't sound like the kind of person I'd want to meet.

But did you find an address?

I did but it's no help.

Mrs Clark's been listed as a missing person for the past fortnight.

Jack, you made it.

Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.

Very good.

I assume Hugh told you about our interview with Mrs Truebody?

He did.

Good.

I can fill you in on the rest.

But first, you need a costume.

How can you protest when you have no idea what it is I have in mind?

Because nine times out of ten, what you have in mind gives me grief.

There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed.

I'm perfectly disguised as a police detective.

You won't detect much in a crowd this fast in a blue wool suit and tie.

I kept this aside for you.

A passable Mark Antony, if we pilfer that sword on display in the billiard room.

So I'm to be the triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet's fool?

You've been at least a single pillar for far too long.

No-one will know who you are.

Except you.

Come on, Jack.

Just one gaudy night.

If you really want a Roman soldier... then I'll take it from here.

What is it?

This was left for me.

It was Janey's.

She was wearing ribbons in her hair the day she disappeared.

I have the other one.

How?

I don't understand.

It must be him.

Who else was there that day who could have found it?

Apart from Foyle, anyone else?

The police were there, obviously.

My parents.

Aunt Prudence came to collect...

Arthur, put that down.

Arthur.

No...

He's gone!

He wouldn't hurt anyone.

We've got to find him.

The wolf.

He's taken the wolf costume.

Arthur!

Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our treasure hunt!

Third prize, half a case of French champagne!

Second prize, an entire case of French champagne!

First prize... a night in the boudoir with Isabella!

Or me!

Or both!

Here's your first clue, ladies and gentlemen.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet but only one rose will lead you to your treat.

On your marks, ladies and gentlemen.

Get set for the highlight of the evening and... tally-ho!

Onward and upward!

Where's Jane?

She was here.

Jane!

So the prison sent his body to you at Mrs Clark's request?

That's right.

I don't remember everyone who comes through but she was an odd one.

In what way?

She signed off on the job, we showed her in to view the deceased and then we never saw her again.

Haven't heard from her since either.

But you definitely cremated Mr Foyle?

Uh, Miss Williams is a relative.

Excuse me, Miss.

Didn't mean to be rude.

Yes, we went ahead with the job.

Well, um, there you are, then.

Commiserations on your bereavement.

Jane, where are you?

Jane, are you alright?

I thought this was the next clue but there's nothing on it.

Where's Arthur?

What is it?

Time for you to go home, Jane.

Gather your things, Jane.

I'll get Cec and Bert to bring around the taxi.

How do we tell if that's him?

What's that?

Just bone probably.

No, it's shiny.

It's more like glass.

Where's that photograph of Mrs Clark?

Here. This description.

'Born 1856. She had one eye, the other was a glass eye.'

Hugh, these ashes are not Foyle's.

They're his mother's.

There's been a swap.

Right under your nose, Mother!

When were you...

Guy!

Guy, what's going on?

Arthur loves Jane!

Yes, he adored Janey and Marigold too.

Can't you see?

He's the common thread.

Stop it!

All my life it's been about poor Arthur!

I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone.

Just take him away and lock him in an asylum where he belongs!

NO!

Arthur, let go!

What more is it going to take, huh?

Guy, darling, come back!

Whatever happened, Arthur... none of it's your fault.

You can tell me.

Please.

Shh, it's alright, darling.

Be calm.

It's not mine.

I'm not supposed to have sweeties.

Where did you get this?

It was him.

Miss Phryne.

It wasn't him. He wasn't the one who was cremated.

It was his foster mother.

Dot, are you sure?

It's true, sir.

It was Gertrude Clarke who entered into those flames.

The ribbon.

Arthur, tell me everything that happened tonight.

I wanted to go to the party but Mother wouldn't let me.

And when I went outside, the man was there.

He gave me another toffee apple but he took my costume and he hit me.

The same man you saw with Marigold?

Yes. The woodcutter.

The one who took Janey away.

Oh, my God.

Foyle drowned Marigold.

He knew I'd help my aunt.

And he's still out there, Jack.

I wonder if I could trouble you for a lift?

My car won't start and I need to get back to St Kilda.

No worries, jump in.

We're heading that way.

I've let all the staff know.

At least Jane's out of harm's way.

The guard at the gatehouse saw a man holding a wolf costume flag down a taxi.

We've just missed them.

Cec and Bert!

We'll take my car.

Dot, telephone Mr Butler.

Warn him to lock all the doors and windows and tell him Jane's on her way.

There has to be someone at that number. It's an emergency.

Could you please check the line for me?

Are we home yet?

Go back to sleep, will ya?

Goodnight, then. Thank you.

So where can we drop ya?

Anywhere near Acland Street will be fine.

Acland Street.

Excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you but I appear to have left my house keys back in my car.

Do you think I could use your telephone?

Of course. Come in.

The telephone's just there.

Thank you.

Good evening.

Could you please connect me to a number at the Camberwell Exchange?

I was a professor at the university.

Really? I want to go to university.

What did you teach?

History was my area.

Ancient worlds are my passion.

Mine too! Uh, milk?

No, thank you.

Makes me think of Cleopatra.

Bathing in asses' milk.

Oh, yes.

She was in love with Marc Antony, who was a Roman general.

Tell me more about Cleopatra.

Feeling better, Mr Butler?

Yes. In fact, I'm really rather peckish.

You are...?

Mr Ayrton's car broke down at the party. He teaches history.

Does he?

Well, that's very interesting.

Thank you for the tea.

I should be leaving.

I'll see you out, Mr Ayrton.

Jane? Where are you?

Jane!

What's wrong?

Where is he?

Where's Murdoch Foyle?

He'll be back.