02x08 - The Blood of Juana the Mad

[bunniefuu]

Next generation of bright, shiny new things.

When are you gonna make your contribution to the gene pool, Mac?

This is my contribution, Professor.

(Claps hands sharply)

May I remind you gentlemen, and ladies, the Medical Prize examination is this afternoon at 2:00pm sharp.

Very sharp.

We have, alas, a depressingly young subject for our final revision lecture on human musculature and articulation.

Female, 32 years of age, cause of death... postnatal haemorrhage.

That's Professor Katz.

♪ 1920S JAZZ MUSIC

Man: Wait for us!

Man2: What's wrong?

Beatrice! Where are you going, Beatrice?

Wait for us! (Tauntingly) Batty Boo!

Look at her go!

Poor Prof! Hey?

Beatrice... Oh, look out. It's on!

It's on. Look out.

Back off! You two...!

Settle down.

You OK?

Any idea what happened?

There was a mix-up.

My senior students asked for a revision so I went down to the furnace this morning before it cranked up to retrieve what I thought was a 32-year-old woman.

It turned out to be Professor Katz instead.

He was well respected amongst the fraternity, if a little eccentric.

He knew his medicine inside out.

Hello, Jack.

I didn't realise you were on this case, Miss Fisher.

Likewise. I could have left it to you No, you couldn't.

I called you both in because I want you to work together.

I need this case solved.

Phryne Fisher, Professor Bradbury, Dean of Medicine and Head of Jude's College.

Delighted to meet any man who can inspire Elizabeth MacMillan.

Pity the occasion is so tragic.

You said Professor Katz was left in the holding annexe of the furnace.

Who would have had access?

Oh, well, apart from the staff, we kept a key in the cabinet over there.

It's missing.

I'd appreciate, Professor Bradbury, if you could assemble your senior students for some preliminary questioning.

Yes, of course.

Just a minute. What's going on?

Oh, well, I need to know his routine, who was the last...

With you and Jack Robinson.

That might take a while. Short version.

He had a nasty scare, thought I'd k*lled myself in a car accident and now he thinks I'm too much trouble.

You are. So he's running scared.

Coward.

Macabre turn of events, Inspector.

But the only one that isn't here is the one you should be talking to.

And who's that?

Beatrice Mason. Mad as a March hare.

I'm happy to start with you, Mr Oliver.

Me? (Chuckles)

I may have glued a wig to Paracelsus's bust but even I wouldn't pull something like this.

And I certainly wouldn't have k*lled the old coot first.

So you're Professor Bradbury's research assistant.

Yeah. His field of specialisation is anthropometry... study of human proportions.

Measuring people?

More or less.

Whenever you're ready, Mr Street.

(Whispers) Where could I find Professor Katz's office?

Far end of the east wing. Thank you.

Inspector... I thought you had students to interrogate.

I have men to help with that.

Then I fear we're headed for the same destination.

I'll keep my distance.

Why don't you walk two steps behind?

I need the book. I'm Katz's research assistant.

I have all my notes... Miss... but I still need the book, can you please let me in there?

Miss, this office is now part of a police investigation.

I'm afraid not. Detective Inspector Robinson.

We're here on police business.

Can you let me get into there so I can get the book, please?

I can't work without it. Excuse me, Miss...

(Shrieks) Oh! Don't touch me!

(Pants heavily)

Phryne Fisher.

Lady Detective.

Why do we need the police as well?

That's a very good question, Miss...

Mason. Beatrice.

If you could just step aside, please, Miss Mason.

Uh-uh. Professor Katz didn't allow anyone in his office when he wasn't present.

Given that Katz is no longer with us, perhaps his rules no longer apply.

The Inspector is here to look after his interests.

If you could just stay with Constable Collins, please, Miss Mason.

Thank you.

(Door opens)

Looks like we just missed somebody.

That picture's crooked.

Miss... Miss!

Miss! Miss! Miss!

That's where Katz locked up his book.

It must have been extremely valuable.

The Book of Hours of Juana the Mad.

It's a 16th-century illustrated manuscript.

It was Katz's most prized possession, but he... he locked it up because we disagreed.

About what?

He said he found it in a monastery in Catalonia.

But I found modern restorations, altered text and new ink.

I think that's why he was mad at me.

It's a rotation combination and Katz liked to change it every day.

Geoffrey Spall, College Treasurer.

And the safe, Mr Spall?

I warned Katz it was merely an analog problem, easily surmounted by the most amateur mathematician.

Perhaps... I can help.

I'm not a mathematician, Mr Spall, but I have mastered the art of listening.

Very closely.

(Lock winds and clicks)

Two tumblers... shifting.

(Lock clicks)

And... falling. (Lock clicks)

And...

(Lock clicks and clunks)

..open sesame.

The Book of Hours.

Where's the rest?

It's empty.

Miss...

(Breathes heavily)

Beatrice.

Are you alright?

There's too much...

Too many people.

People are confusing.

Yes, they are.

(Sighs)

What's that?

More blood.

The splashes are getting larger.

Whoever was leaving them was going towards the office rather than away from it.

Inspector!

They keep going.

Still not a great deal of blood, given the method of m*rder.

Now... these would be extremely sharp Collins.

There are more, Miss Fisher.

Sir? I want this area roped off.

Ooh. We need the blood for testing.

Then come and sort out that young girl.

Yes, sir.

Ah! If you'd just wait there, please, Mr Spall.

This must be where it happened.

Somehow the body went from here to the anatomy furnace.

To be b*rned at nine o'clock in the morning?

If not for Dr MacMillan needing a cadaver at short notice, Katz would have disappeared off the face of the earth.

After he was exsanguinated, into the garden.

That's my clinical observation. Right here.

Uh, Miss Mason... if you'd just like to step away...

Perhaps we could find somewhere for you to clean your shoes.

Oh...

Jack?

Good catch.

Just in here will be fine.

The Vice Dean's away on a sabbatical.

Is there anyone we can telephone?

Surely she'd be happier at home.

No, no, no, it's fine. It's happened before. She'll recover.

Hugh, you might like to do something with these.

Hugh: Sir, Professor Bradbury's asked to see you in the dining room.

And file this as evidence.

Yes, sir.

Might just go hunt down a pot of tea.

Yep. You might like to, um... follow that young man first, Collins.

Charlie Street?

Yes. See what he just slipped into his pocket.

How did I get here?

You fainted.

Oh, my things.

Who... who... who touched my blanket?

A... and there was blood... there was blood on my skin.

It's alright, it's fine, it's gone now. Everything's fine.

Ohh!

Don't be afraid, it's dead.

They're always dead. I'm not afraid.

I just feel bad for the rats.

How often does this happen, Beatrice?

Whenever Oliver feels like it. There's no pattern.

Can you pass me a bin, please?

Where do you live, Beatrice?

I leased a flat in Carlton but I had to vacate.

Why?

Well...

They said I started a fire in the kitchen because I left the oven on, but I didn't.

And women aren't allowed to reside at the college, are they?

No. But sometimes I lie down here and close my eyes.

It's better this way.

It allows me more time for my research and... and it's further away from the street, so no-one can watch me.

Who would be watching you?

I've never seen them.

Good God. These katana were a gift to the college from the Japanese.

The most brilliant mathematicians.

Turned out to be a much more practical gift than intended.

Spall said the safe was completely empty.

That's right.

Any idea what Professor Katz kept in there?

Well, I know he had the exhibit for the half-yearly exam.

He put the skull in there for safekeeping.

He locked up a skull? Mm.

You don't seem to be in short supply, Professor.

Well, I realise they may all look the same to your womanly gaze, Miss Fisher, but I assure you they're completely different.

The students have to make clinical judgements based on the pathology of a particular skull.

I can give you the catalogue number.

Alas, poor Yorick.

Luckily Hamlet wasn't a woman, or I might not have recognised him.

It's engraved...

(Huffs)..on the base of the skull near the lower left jaw.

So Katz was worried about your students cheating so he locked up the skull?

I agree it's ridiculous, but this exam determined the winner of the Medical Prize.

It's more critical than most.

Some of our students' whole lives depend upon their academic performance.

Like who?

Mr Street, for one.

Yes, I suppose Mr Street will struggle more than some students.

None of his family are educated.

Dock workers, I believe.

And the college supports the cost of his degree.

Charlie Street?

Your research assistant, I believe.

Surprisingly bright.

Though somewhat erratic.

Especially of late.

(Keys jangling)

Stop. Ah, stop, Mr Street.

Pick it up.

Inspector Robinson will be very interested to hear your story, Mr Street, down at the station.

I don't mind you walking in front occasionally, Inspector, though behind would be more gallant.

What if I were att*cked by masked, sword-wielding Japanese mathematicians?

You wouldn't know what happened to my constable, by any chance, Miss Fisher?

Didn't he follow you, Inspector?

I know Dr MacMillan is an old friend, but it would be easier if you left me to investigate.

Without me?

What about the safe? You couldn't have opened that without me.

Not as easily.

Or the blood trail. Not as quickly.

What about Hugh? I helped him to... Helped what?

Do you really want me to go?

I don't want you to go.

I need you to go.

Please go home.

Very well.

Sayonara.

(Knocks)

Beatrice. How are you feeling?

Much better now.

Good, because I have to leave and I was hoping to invite you home with me.

Do you have any rats?

Not dead ones. Could I bring all my own things?

My research papers, my notes and my own food?

Of course.

And the page from the book?

I'm... sure we can work something out I'll consider it.

Any sign of our house guest, Dot?

No, miss.

I thought that might have been her but it was just someone passing.

I hope she's not lost.

I gave her very precise directions.

Beatrice doesn't strike me as someone who forgets.

(Footsteps)

Beatrice. I came in the rear door.

I was beginning to think we should send out a search party.

I was concerned I was being followed.

And were you?

Not that I'm aware of.

But... I have to be careful.

I don't know you.

This is my companion, Miss Dorothy Williams.

Dot, meet Miss Beatrice Mason.

Hello.

Would you... like some tea?

I've got some fresh-baked scones as well.

No.

Thank you.

I only eat jam sandwiches.

So why would anyone be following you, Beatrice?

Well, it's... it's about the Book of Hours.

Whoever it is, they want it.

But I don't understand.

The book is missing.

Perhaps they think I took it.

I had the book before Professor Katz locked it up.

That's when they ransacked my flat.

Did you see them? No.

But I knew they'd been there. Things had been moved.

Then they started leaving notes.

Did you keep any of them?

No. They were burnt when the kitchen caught fire.

Luckily my books were alright.

You can't touch them without gloves!

Please.

But you look like a, uh... a careful person, Miss Williams.

Thank you. She is. She's very careful.

Katz knew to wear gloves.

He liked old books, like me.

He shared my interest in diseases of the mind.

He didn't think Juana was mad.

Katz agreed with me. Katz...

I wish he wasn't gone.

How did you come by the key to the furnace room?

You must understand how this compromises you.

Professor Katz's body was left to be incinerated late last night.

I didn't have anything to do with what happened to Katz, so you have no proof.

But we have proof you were attempting to dispose of evidence, Mr Street.

Constable Collins, charge Mr Charlie Street with being an accessory to a m*rder.

Take him down to the cells. Yes, sir.

And we'll have to inform Professor Bradbury, so I hope it won't affect your future at Jude's College.

Alright, I found it.

Well, you need to tell us where.

Night in the cells might loosen his tongue.

The key was with Beatrice's things.

But I'm sure she had no idea it was there.

So who put it there?

Well, I didn't see him do it, but he's been tormenting Beatrice ever since she arrived at the college.

Amos Oliver.

If you're so sure, why didn't you mention this earlier?

Oliver's the golden boy of this department.

His father won the Medical Prize, his father before him, and nobody wants to see him get into trouble.

Katz was trying to have him expelled for cheating.

And look what happened to him.

Oh. You've been busy.

Mm.

Uh, these notes are the words that accompany the illuminations in the book, but I haven't finished.

If you know your Bible, you'll be familiar with the iconography.

St John, the Tower of Babel, Moses and the burning bush.

I haven't done the rest of the Passion cycle yet.

Of course. I know all those stories.

But my Latin isn't very good.

That's not relevant, Dorothy.

You see how some letters are in red but on every third page, the letters have been changed from the original black to red.

The new ink is inorganic, less than 100 years old.

What do you think it all means, Beatrice?

I don't know. But perhaps they'll leave me alone now.

If they're the ones that robbed the safe.

Unless they want this missing page.

Who else knows you made all these notes?

I showed Katz, before he confiscated the book.

The book is beautiful. Beyond words.

The colours are as... as bright as jewels.

Shouldn't be out there in the world.

I'll make sure we find that book, Beatrice.

(Thud!)

Mr Butler?

Mr Butler!

Mr Butler!

He's still alive. I should hope so.

(Groans)

So sorry, miss.

I'll be there... shortly.

I concur with my budding colleague here.

No nausea, no stomach cramps, no signs of any rashes.

I'd say nothing toxic.

Thank goodness. Just a heavy dose of sleeping pills.

Back to bed now, Mr B.

Yes, miss. At once.

Oh, leave him, Dot, he's not going anywhere.

I'll get back to my work.

We suspect this is the culprit.

Beatrice's jam?

A gift, apparently.

Left anonymously in her pigeonhole yesterday.

From someone who knows her well. Beatrice likes labels.

Beatrice may seem impervious to the harassment she suffers at the college, but I'm sure it takes its toll.

Is that all it is, do you think? Harassment?

Well, I know that half of the faculty would rather see her student placement go to a deserving, well-bred young man from the right side of the tracks.

She'll make a damn good research doctor.

She's dispassionate, clinical.

Beatrice is very particular about certain things.

The order in which she carries out a dissection, the way she organises her notes, being touched.

But she doesn't imagine things. She's not crazy.

She's volatile.

Doesn't strike me as being violent.

No. She was furious with Katz, though, when he locked away that book.

Are you suggesting...?

No, I'm not suggesting she'd hurt him.

But if she did, she certainly wouldn't lie about it.

We know Professor Katz was trying to have you expelled from the college, and I imagine your family have great expectations of your medical career.

You think I'd m*rder Katz for that? I'm not sure.

Perhaps it was merely to cheat on your examination by stealing that skull.

Have you seen my results?

Ask Professor Bradbury what kind of a doctor he thinks I'll make.

It's in my blood.

But the Medical Prize examination wasn't being held by Professor Bradbury this year.

Professor Katz was conducting it.

Have I mentioned my uncle is a Queen's counsel?

Good to cover all the professions.

What were you doing last night?

I was in my room all night, and I have a witness, though I'm not sure how reliable she is.

I thought that sort of thing was frowned upon by the college.

It wasn't my idea, Inspector.

Miss Beatrice Mason came to harass me again.

The girl is clearly a nymphomaniac.

Claimed I'd invited her. Patently ridiculous.

Though she was amorous, and a man can only take so much of a woman throwing herself at him.

Afterwards, she slept on my divan.

Ask her yourself. Thank you, Mr Oliver.

We'll do that.

That's terrible, Dottie.

Yes, we'll look into it for you. Thank you. Goodbye for now.

Not enough work to keep you busy, Collins?

Found Miss Mason's whereabouts yet?

We need to retrieve our stolen evidence.

I believe she's no longer at the college, sir.

Do you have her address?

Yes, but you're not going to like it.

You mean last night? Yes.

And I'd rather conduct this questioning down at the station, if you would like to accompany me, Miss Mason.

No. I like it here. Thank you.

The answer to your question is yes, I spent the night in Mr Oliver's room.

What time did you arrive? At 6:05.

And you can confirm you were both there the entire night?

I was.

I wanted to return to my research, but my evening didn't go to plan.

Oliver claims you seduced him.

That's strange. I don't recall that.

Doctor MacMillan: Beatrice, what exactly do you recall?

I remember arriving, and Oliver seemed happy to see me.

He was smiling a lot.

I... I asked him if I could lie down for a bit.

I was so tired, I could hardly speak.

Why did you go to Oliver's room, Beatrice?

Mr Spall said Oliver had invited me.

It's polite to accept an invitation.

I've had to learn to be polite.

He said that Oliver wanted to apologise.

But then he k*lled another rat.

I don't understand that.

Can I go now?

Yes, after you've returned that page of the Book of Hours, Miss Mason.

That won't be possible, Inspector.

It's part of my research.

Beatrice wouldn't have seduced Oliver.

Miss Mason doesn't like to be touched, let alone ravished by a man like Oliver.

Mr Oliver is doing what he does best... making trouble.

But if Beatrice were drugged, perhaps his motives were more sinister.

Like taking advantage of her?

Or providing Oliver with an alibi for the night of Katz's death.

I know that you are more than capable of handling this m*rder investigation without me, Inspector.

But you might like to test this blackberry jam.

Thank you.

(Light zaps)

(Shrieks)

(Stifled cries)

Help!

(Grunts)

(Screams)

(Grunts)

(Groans)

(Groans)

(Coughs) Oh, Miss!

Oh, no! Oh, no, they've taken all my notes!

Who? Whoever owns this.

Who would take them?

This reeks of tobacco.

Sweetly spiced with vanilla.

Pipe tobacco.

Who do you know that smokes a pipe, Beatrice?

Were you aware of any relationship between Mr Oliver and Beatrice Mason, Mr Spall?

I'm sure Oliver has no shortage of female admirers.

But if you're telling me that she spent the night in Oliver's room, that is a very troubling confession.

Even more troubling if she was drugged.

Sorry, Inspector, your constable gave you away.

We're in the middle of an interview, Miss Fisher.

As I was saying, Miss Mason is well aware that spending a night in the male dorms is against all college regulations, apart from matters of moral decency.

Don't mind me. But I do.

Oh, that's right.

But you might want to know we had an intruder last night who tried to strangle Beatrice, stole her notes and left me with a very bruised ribcage and a souvenir kerchief.

It smells of tobacco, a very distinctive pipe tobacco.

I believe Mr Spall smokes a pipe.

I believe I'm not the only man to take up the habit.

Do you have your pipe handy?

May I?

Mmm. Vanilla.

So, where were you last night, Mr Spall?

I was here until late, going through the accounts.

Who do you have...

How serious was the friction between yourself and Beatrice Mason?

There were times when I needed to see Katz on serious matters, and that young woman barred my way.

She's an odd one, full of fanciful ideas. Anyone can see that.

Why did you get Katz to confiscate the book...

What kind of serious matters?

College enrolments are down, and Katz' insistence on educating the working classes wasn't doing our finances any good at all.

Whereas the missing and extremely valuable Book of Hours would be a great help.

You're right, Miss Fisher.

That manuscript was Katz' pride and joy and contributed great prestige to the college.

So I'd concentrate on tracking down poor Katz' m*rder*r and finding the manuscript, rather than interrogating someone who has the university's best interests at heart.

Now, if you're both done with your questions, I'd like to be dismissed.

Of course. Thank you, Mr Spall.

(Knocks on door) Excuse me... Pardon me.

Professor Bradbury wants to see you in the anatomy labs.

Thank you, Collins. Jack, you can't let...

And I would like Spall's office searched now.

What was that, Miss Fisher?

Nothing for the moment, Inspector.

Hello, Hugh. They wouldn't be Mr Spall's things, would they?

I'm just taking them to the Inspector.

Oh, I am so sorry, Hugh. Miss!

Here, let me help you with that.

Oh, all my fault, Inspector.

I must watch where I'm going.

We can manage the rest.

I'm sure you can, but this looks interesting.

It describes each of the college staff...

Professor Bradbury, Professor Katz, even Mac gets a mention.

Looks like some kind of confidential dossiers.

Intelligence gathering, perhaps?

I'll examine it more closely before coming to any conclusions, thank you, Miss Fisher.

Assuming Spall is lying and he did drug Beatrice and he was after the Book of Hours, perhaps it wasn't about money at all?

Perhaps the book has some other kind of significance.

Geoffrey Spall... Pure Mathematics at Oxford, wireless operator with the British Admiralty, Naval Cryptographer.

What does that all mean, sir?

Well, it certainly doesn't make him more likeable, Collins, but it looks to me like Mr Spall was a code breaker.

So, m*llitary intelligence? Possibly.

With these notes on his colleagues, their politics, marital status, comings and goings, he's gathering information for someone.

And the results on that sedative in the jam, it's a drug called scopolamine.

It's not very widely known, but it's been used to extract information.

Like a truth serum?

So you're saying he's a spy, with the Secret Service?

Don't get too excited, Collins.

Since the w*r ended, most intelligence work is sitting behind a desk, opening foreign mail.

Beatrice, you said there was some kind of pattern, in the book?

Yes, the alterations.

What kind of alterations?

They were every third page.

That's where the new ink was, in the calligraphy.

Well, how could you tell? Spectral analysis.

I used a Bunsen burner.

But if you looked closely, you could tell.

Do you think there could be some kind of meaning in the changes?

Some message, perhaps?

Katz bought the book after the w*r.

Books were often used to secrete papers, money.

Well, I copied them down.

But your notes were stolen. Oh, before that.

I wrote out just the letters that were odd and made a list of them.

Where is it? In my textbook.

Fascinating development, Inspector. Professor Spall is a spy.

It's only a theory at this stage.

So, would you like something to add to it, or not?

At what price, Miss Fisher?

The usual, Inspector.

You're chasing rainbows.

That means nothing to me.

You can't deny your association with the British m*llitary.

Why would I? I was proud to serve my country.

How do you explain the dossier you kept on your colleagues?

My confidential files are exactly that.

I can write whatever I like in them.

Katz changed the combination on his safe daily because he was afraid you'd break into it.

I could have done that easily.

But you didn't need to, until Beatrice started finding anomalies in the Book of Hours.

This is nonsense.

And then when Katz locked it up, she decided to guard his office, and you had to drug her to get her out of the way.

This is all unsubstantiated.

Interrogate the Mason woman.

She's the one who wanted the book so badly.

Who knows what she'd have done to get it?

Sir, do you mind... Not now, Collins.

Are you accusing her of Professor Katz's m*rder?

She may have had help.

That Charlie Street fellow and her were thick as thieves.

But you've been through my things, Inspector.

You know that the Dean was seriously concerned that she's mentally defective.

It's not just my opinion.

Sir...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a meeting of the College Board.

Excuse me, sir, would you mind if...

The more I know of that man, the less I like him.

(Exhales sharply)

Ooh. Ooh...

(Grunts)

(Exhales)

Oh. Oh!

Ah! Ooh!

Oh.

I suspect they've become bored with it.

The Medical Prize exam has been foiled and they've clearly run out of ways to make a mockery of that.

Here's the category number Bradbury gave to me.

Thank you.

Are you sure? (Softly) Yes.

I mean, the numbers match the skull, but I don't recognise this system.

I'll take this back to the lab for a closer look and make sure it's the skull we're after.

There may have been a mix-up.

I don't understand it, sir.

I thought the students were here to learn how to cure diseases and help people.

Hello, Mr Street. How are your studies progressing?

Miss Fisher. Thank you for taking Bea in.

I couldn't budge her myself.

It was the promise of finding her book that was the lure.

I'm late for a lecture. I must dash.

You're the one? Hand it over, now. All of it.

I haven't got anything. Give me the book!

It's not yours. Now, I said.

Over here, Spall! (Grunts)

Glad your timing's not off, Inspector Thank you, Collins. Sir.

What's so important about that book, Mr Spall, that you'd sh**t a man?

You're out of your depth.

Katz' k*ller is still out there.

I didn't put it there.

How did you know where it was hidden? I didn't.

You were just in the right place at the right time?

I got a note in my mail this morning.

Who was it from? I don't know.

It's anonymous, but I wanted to keep it for Beatrice.

(Reads) 'Look where the old coot d*ed.'

'Old coot'?

Oliver: I certainly wouldn't have k*lled the old coot first.

Oliver used those exact words to describe Professor Katz.

I need to telephone my uncle. He's on his way.

Why did you steal the book?

It can't have been just to torment Beatrice, if it meant k*lling a man to get it.

I didn't k*ll Katz. I didn't care about the book.

I only used it to get back at Charlie.

If you didn't k*ll Katz, how did you end up with the book?

I was after the skull.

So how did you go about it? Did you confront him?

No, you've got it all wrong.

When Beatrice turned up that night, expecting some apology from me, I thought it was Katz' doing.

So I went to have it out with him after Beatrice fell asleep.

And then I saw the skull, and I knew I'd be tested on it.

Everything was just sitting on his desk.

I knew how valuable that book was, and how much it meant to Katz. just grabbed everything.

And Beatrice became your alibi, despite the fact that it could lead to her expulsion.

And you tried to pin the blame on Charlie Street.

He shouldn't be in a place like this. Neither should Beatrice.

This college has a history, a reputation.

They just don't belong.

Tell me something, Mr Oliver.

If you're so brilliant, how did you get caught?

No matter how much money or education is wasted on your pea-brained intellect, Mr Oliver, your failure to appreciate the brilliance of a mind like Beatrice Mason's will always render you a complete imbecile.

If these were all the letters from the book and...

Assuming it's in English and we're dealing with the Allies?

And mostly phonetic and omitting most of the vowels.

What about this part here? 'Double agents'.

And the first letters can be names.

'Williams'. 'And Cabot'? French.

No, that's Corbett.

Williams and Corbett, airmen.

Reportedly went down in the Battle of Arras, April 1917.

And both received posthumous bravery awards.

But this code implies an altogether different fate.

P-L-P. 'Pulp'?

Code for assassination.

How did we do, Mr Spall?

The w*r was a long time ago, Inspector.

So you don't think anyone will be interested that two supposed heroes were m*rder*d by their own side for treachery?

The Bureau will deny all knowledge. Of the Book, of me.

So you m*rder*d Katz for an invisible master?

I would have, once. But you're wrong.

It wasn't until I heard Katz was dead that I made my attempt on the manuscript.

The spilled water.

Think he's telling the truth, sir?

Well, if he is, and Oliver's theft was merely opportunist, who does that leave, Collins?

Good afternoon, Sir Basil.

Yes, that's right, sir.

Ah, Mr Geoffrey Spall.

Ah, well, we're questioning him now, sir.

Well, no, sir...

Well, yes, sir, I understand that, but...

Looks like we'll be releasing Mr Spall immediately.

Really, sir?

So maybe he's doing just a little bit more...

Get on with it, Collins. Yes, sir.

Oh, and Doctor MacMillan telephoned earlier.

She needs to see you and Miss Fisher at the college.

This skull has certainly been around.

The numbering here is American.

That's because it's from Hartley University.

How did it end up being the subject of your medical exam, Street?

It wasn't meant for an exam.

Professor Katz was just keeping it safe.

From what? Oh, from whom is the question.

Mac. Miss Fisher. What a lovely surprise.

I hope you don't mind.

I need an expert opinion on some human remains.

Mac and I just can't seem to agree.

Well, you'd be hard-pressed to find a finer mind than Elizabeth MacMillan's.

Unless it were a man's.

That skull is an aberration.

It undermines a lifetime of research I am finally going to present to the national symposium.

I told Charlie Street to incinerate it.

But he gave it to Professor Katz instead.

Katz?

What are you doing with this?

Katz? Katz!

Katz!

Katz!

You certainly lost control of your well-bred mind, didn't you?

He asked for it, that vindictive little man.

So you k*lled him.

But when you came back, your skull had gone.

Along with the Book of Hours.

So you planted the key in Beatrice Mason's things, so you could blame your m*rder on a madwoman.

A small sacrifice to make.

Modern medicine should promote only the best traits of the human race.

What would modern medicine do to Beatrice Mason?

Prevent her from breeding, of course.

Like this woman? An American Negress?

The kind of woman you believe has an underdeveloped and inferior brain?

Except this skull belongs to the first n*gro woman to graduate with Honours from Hartley University.

The skull is a hoax.

It's a lie, I tell you!

You're under arrest, Professor.

What are you doing, Miss Fisher? What we do best, Jack.

And I'm afraid I'm going to have to touch you.

Get out of the way!

Move!

Hold it right there!

Doctor MacMillan: (Reads)

'Highly opinionated, revolutionary tendencies and suspect associates'.

I think Spall summed you up nicely.

I never liked that man. But I did admire Professor Bradbury.

If Bradbury's research was all about race and gender superiority, why did he encourage a woman?

Procreation.

Bradbury's running joke was asking me when I was going to settle down and raise a family.

Intelligent women do have their uses, Inspector.

Well, the medical faculty's been decimated.

They've expelled Oliver and his father's money, along with him.

What about Beatrice Mason?

Inaugural recipient of the Fisher Research Scholarship.

So between Beatrice and Charlie Street, our reputation should be salvaged.

Otherwise I will have to go out and procreate with the nearest brilliant white male.

Don't worry, Inspector.

That won't happen in a hurry.

Although you would be my first choice.

So what kind of partners are we from hereon in, Jack?

What's our safe distance?

Two steps behind, two steps in front? Perhaps a dosido?

I think we're more of a waltz, Miss Fisher.

Not a tango? A good waltz is slow, and close.

I'll try to stay in step, all the same.

♪ I found out that I love you ♪
♪ And I thought you loved me too ♪
♪ You were only passing time with me ♪
♪ Many happy hours we spent ♪
♪ I thought you were heaven sent ♪
♪ You were only passing time with me ♪
♪ I remember all the things you told me ♪
♪ And the way you used to ♪
♪ Kiss and hold me ♪
♪ When you said you'd always care ♪
♪ I thought you were playing fair ♪
♪ You were only passing time with me. ♪