04x04 - Men Of Iron, Men Of Smoke

[bunniefuu]

These are bitemarks, Reid.

Isaac did not do this thing.

The true k*ller is still walking the streets you once knew as home.

Please, please, Connor. It is for the best.

A song, Rose. He likes a song.

[Singing]

It is a song, Bennet.

No, Rose.

You think you can hide such a truth from me. You cannot!

And the man, Bloom, that matter is shut.

Thomas Gower, you will be taken to the gallows at Newgate.

You get him away, far away.

Go!

Oh, he can fight, make no mistake of that.

You're saving me?

Where you go to, all you've yet known will seem no more than a Sunday fair.

Tanner!

Yes, yes!

Work. Work with him.

Tanner!

Charlie, my boy, run!

Tanner, cross it. I'm here!

Tanner, now!

Tanner!

Tanner!

That was mine, you greedy w*nk*r.

Come on, Will. We got the goal, didn't we?

You got it.

[Theme music]

Now, I know it ain't mint juleps at the Savoy or waltzing at the Holborn, but...

I figured it was the next best thing.

Maybe go easy on the waltzing.

Thank you for this, Matthew.

You know I can't abide a caged bird.

Ain't it always been this, though, life in the shadows, world shaking its sweet glitter just out of reach.

We've got to get out of here.

I know.

What, Matthew?

You know that I'd throw the dice with you any day, Caitlin. You know that.

Me and you, we run till the stars burn out.

For better or worse, we chose this life.

But the boy, he didn't.

This ain't the life I want for Connor.

With Drake, the boy has a home.

He's safe.

He's loved.

I love him.

We will go to the ends of Earth, Matthew, so far that no one will ever come looking.

This isn't just you and me anymore.

We are a family, and I will not leave without my son.

I hear you, darling.

What business, sirs?

Are you foreman here?

Felix Hackman, and who asks it?

This way.

Charlie Tanner, he work for you?

He does.

Except he's late today.

Mr. Hackman, Charlie Tanner is dead.

He's, ah...

Charlie?

Found in his room beaten with a hammer.

Drake: He was well known to you?

Well enough.

Took on Charlie Tanner some 10 years past.

He was a muckscrap, a street run, filching pockets and sucking gin like it was mother's milk.

These ironworks forged a man of him.

And do you often recruit such muckscraps to your foundry?

We take in all sorts at the ironworks, give them purpose, discipline, teach them honest work and temperance.

Reid: Temperance?

Oh, I insist on it, sir.

None of my boys is weak for grape nor grain.

They live, work, sport as men of iron.

Drake: You train the football team here?

Hackman: I do.

I've seen your boys play. Reckon they might take the league this year.

Yeah.

St. Sebastian?

Hackman: Patron Saint of athletes.

Didn't watch over Charlie, though, did he?

Charlie Tanner was my best ironsmith and my best player.

Would all these men speak so highly of him?

Groups of young men are seldom without their grudges and rivalries, Mr. Hackman.

None of my boys would do in Charlie.

He was their brother.

He was a hero in this foundry.

Even so, we will need to speak to them.

You heard the Inspector.

Any of you know ought that might help him?

Them gasworks bastards.

(All murmuring) Yeah. That's right.

What's that, lad?

The gasworks, they've always hated us.

(All murmuring) Yeah, truth, true.

We b*at them every time, then they try to batter us.

Me and Charlie get it the worst for being the best.

Wren's right. We played the gasworks athletic yesterday.

There was a fracas.

You'd do well to bang up all them animals.

(All murmuring) Yeah, that's right. All true.

All right. Back to work. Iron don't forge itself.

Here, a register of names.

And that lad who spoke up just now?

Yeah, Wilbur Wren.

Gower.

Thomas Gower.

Not an uncommon name, Thomas Gower.

True enough.

Why should the Gower we knew, who k*lled as a boy and only escaped the rope by our mercy, return to Whitechapel.

Whitechapel has as a way of drawing back those who thought it left behind, does it not, Mr. Reid?

Thomas Gower?

Sir.

It is you.

I wasn't sure you'd recall me.

Oh, I recall you often, wondering if you'd thank me or curse me for putting you on that ship, whether the Army had made you or destroyed you.

Lance Corporal Gower, Sergeant.

British South Africa Company.

We're a long way from South Africa.

Honourable discharge, even gave me a medal.

Stepped off a steamer not three months past.

Thought to call on you, but I needed work and lodgings.

Which you found, I see. Honest work.

What you done for me, both of you, sirs, it changed me.

I'm not how I was no more.

Let us hope so.

The man ain't the boy.

You should be proud of yourself, lad.

Was Charlie Tanner a friend of yours?

Not so much.

Football all stick with their own.

He was decent, though, Charlie Tanner.

I hope you do right by him.

Now, I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say Tanner was maybe k*lled by a hammer, you know, to the head.

Ah, some days, I can't believe they pay me for this.

Thatcher, get to the gasworks.

I want a list of names on the football team and everyone watching the match.

Yes, sir.

This hammered footballer, have you used your fingerprint method?

Yeah, I'm getting to it.

Better school up, Reid.

There's always the chance I tell the head of division to shove his forensicating up his sanctimonious self-righteous ass.

Jackson, we had an agreement.

Sang a song to my boys, huh?

At the insistence of your g*dd*mn wife.

I made it clear to you this discussion was concluded.

Don't worry, Benito. I ain't getting any ideas.

Just do your job, man.

I miss the days we used to push him around.

He was in my house with the boy, and with my wife, unbeknownst to me, after he had made a vow to leave the little one be.

I do not disagree that the American possesses an abundance of odious qualities. My concern is only that his skill should remain an instrument to us.

Connor may be Jackson's flesh and blood, but he is now my responsibility.

And I will not see the child confused and disturbed.

As I said, Mr. Drake, my concern is that antagonism between the two of you little serves our work here.

Well, I thank you for your counsel on the running of both my police station and my family.

[Phone ringing]

Yes?

That'll be all, Mr. Reid.

Take a seat. Come.

There's things I... things you should hear, Sergeant, but I...

I could not speak out at the factory.

Well, you may speak in this room as you like, lad.

I ain't a snitch. I've been a snitch.

I remember.

Charlie and Wilbur Wren, see?

Ah, they played on the team together, both strikers, but... they was at each other always.

And Wilbur hated being in Charlie's shadow.

He's good, see, but Charlie was always better.

And at the gasworks game, it all went off.

Wilbur went for Charlie like an animal.

And now Charlie's gone.

Wilbur ain't in his shadow no more.

He'll be skipper of the Ironworks.

Hackman spoke nought of this.

All Hackman cares about is the team.

He lives for it.

Send a constable. I want Wilbur Wren brought in.

Thomas, thank you.

Wait, lad.

Ah, my wife is cooking pie tonight, pigeon.

And, um, well, we've room at our table, if you're hungry.

Thank you, Mr. Drake.

One, two, three, four.

There's no mention of mulberry silk in your manifest, Abel.

Well, some things do not need manifesting, old girl.

Liberated, is it?

From Her Majesty's customs house to the House of Croker?

Wish me to have a gown cut for you?

I might.

How do you do it, Abel?

Do you simply send Nathaniel here over to the warehouse on Cutler Street with a note of request?

The Queen's duty must be paid on all imports, must it not?

Quite so.

What else languishes there, waiting that tax to be paid?

What else might be matched to my gown?

Gloves, shoes, jewellery?

Never you mind, my girl.

Oh, come, Abel. It is only curiosity.

No, princess.

With you it is never only nothing.

Put that cat's nose of yours away.

Nate, see this is parked from prying eyes.

Thought I might join you a moment, watch the sun go down.

Call it skimming, I believe.

I shan't tell.

Besides, I can't see him punishing you for it.

He loves you altogether too much for that.

Made me his own.

There's nothing before him.

Would have d*ed without his care.

That is love, Nathaniel.

I would be dead without his care also.

You pay him, however.

You return that love.

I have watched all you do for him.

No son could ever do more.

It is you gains access to the customs house, is it not?

That is some skill.

I wonder might you show me?

Show me how you manage what no other can.

Show me just how brave and quick-witted you are.

Three months I was besieged, men, women, kiddies, starving, dying.

Where was the relief?

Well, we was stationed out on the Transvaal, see?

Hundreds of miles we roamed... hostile country, swamp, dune, but we reached Bulawayo, we did.

Gunned the lot of them to the hills.

Stamped on their mat bellies like rats.

Queen and country.

Thank you, Mrs. Drake.

I never did smell a pie so good.

Thomas, would you care for some wine with your pie? Or a beer, perhaps?

The lad's teetotal, Rose.

All of us at the factory, Mrs. Drake.

Temperance or else.

[Child crying]

How do you like the ironworks?

I like it good enough, sir.

But I wanna learn a trade, see?

Soldiering, it's, ah... well, it's k*lling people. It ain't helping them.

You helped them people that were sieged in Bulawayo.

Only by k*lling.

I, er... I-I wanna be a... a useful man.

I've been helping at the orphanage, Miss Deborah stays, odd jobs and that.

She must be very proud of you, Thomas.

I hope.

Miss Deborah's always been kind to me.

She's closest to a ma I ever had.

[Child crying]

Bennet.

Leave the boy, Rose.

Forging iron's honest work.

What about policing, Thomas?

Excuse me.

You're a Whitechapel boy, same as me.

Raised on these black streets and saved from them by the Army, same as me.

Mr. Drake, sir, I'm not...

You'd work your way from the bottom, as did I. But look where I've worked to, eh?

Why should you not work thus also?

Men like you, I could police this borough clean.

Mr. Drake, please, I'm not...

I do not think I'm made for policing.

You are made of stronger stuff than you know, Thomas Gower.

You think on it.

[Shouting]

Rise and shine, Wilbur Wren.

I've been looking for you everywhere.

I swear I paid for 'em this time.

What chance of tincture for my head?

It feels like a French toilet.

Drake: No chance, boy. Not a ghost of one.

Charlie Tanner was a sanctimonious prick with his nose right up Hackman's ass.

I hated him, but I never k*lled him.

You att*cked him on the pitch, busted his nose, so I hear.

Horseplay.

Horseplay?

And going to his place afterwards to finish the job with a hammer, that horseplay too, was it?

Heck no. I went to a gin shop.

Then I went home, just me and the bottle.

Bottle is poor alibi.

It's only on the bottle-hugger's word I'm here, ain't it?

You think I don't know it was Gower what burgled to you?

You said bottle-hugger.

I might like a drop or two, but Gower, Gower's a royal class steam-powered pisshead.

Thomas Gower is a decorated lancer corporal, boy, and you'll show some respect.

Never shuts his bloody gob about it either, what he done in the Army.

Gower the hero?

Who cares?

He might be decorated, don't make him sober.

Yeah, no dice.

I'm not gonna be able to get a clean print off that.

I want Jackson to take a look at Tanner's room.

My money says Wren was there.

And what does your money say, Reid?

You heard the man. Get to your work.

Charlie Tanner was found here, huh?

Your wizardry ever astounds.

There's a doctor, Piotrowski. He's a pollack.

He has a theory that you can analyse the pattern of a spatter or reconstruct the trauma.

And does it work?

Hard to say. His research was mostly beatin' rabbits to death and looking at the mess.

Photographs here, here, here, and... here.

Jackson: Oof!

What?

Now, remember, Charlie Tanner wasn't a drinker.

Liver I pulled out of him, pink as a baby's.

On account of which, he had a house guest.

Take a huff.

Cheap gin and piss.

Temperance my ass.

Tanner weren't a drinker. Wilbur Wren was.

Not only Wren.

And it wasn't Wilbur Wren to whom Tanner would offer his bed.

Mr. Drake, you cannot overlook Thomas Gower's past.

No man deserves to be judged on what he was.

It is the one hope we have to make ourselves better.

I only suggest that Thomas Gower may not have been as forthcoming as you suppose.

Your suggestion is duly noted.

Hey, Thatcher, once these two are done swinging their handbags, bring the camera.

Whoa, wait, wait, wait.

Is your boy Wren missing a shirt, or your boy Gower?

This Miss Castello?

Yes. Just here.

Really, it was as if he believes I might shatter into pieces by letting him take me in his arms.

Your strong sergeant, he is altogether too well-mannered.

He considers such manners virtuous, I believe.

Well, perhaps it is for you to take an axe to that virtue.

[Knocking on door]

Deborah, good morning.

Miss Reid, hello.

Good morning, Miss Goren.

I find myself somewhat adrift from own my family, Mathilda.

And so dear Deborah adds me to the tally of those to whom she brings care.

She does not eat. Someone must make her.

Miss Rachel, I think, I must be about my day.

But again, I'm grateful for your counsel.

You're entirely welcome, Mathilda.

What, Deborah?

She's 19, and lives alone with her father, and has met her first darling boy. A policeman also, if you believe that.

I believe it.

I believe you're also only too keen to win her friendship, given the identity of her father.

Do you know Mr. Reid still keeps a copy of the Ratovski case file in his home.

It seems your Isaac Bloom still weighs heavy upon his conscience.

And this you established through the manipulation of the daughter.

I think you must leave Mathilda Reid be, Rachel.

Deborah.

You do not know the half of what she has suffered.

If you want to be her friend, then you be her friend, but I will not see her used.

Then I am sorry.

Forgive me, Deborah.

Forgive me.

But I wonder, might you help me?

They are from Paris.

They are Ratovski's diaries.

Wren says that the shirt ain't his.

Ain't that a kick in the head.

Drake still makes Wren for this, huh?

He does.

But you don't buy it.

I know that look on you.

Perhaps your Piotrowski and his blood spatter patterning will settle it one way or another.

Maybe.

But I'm gonna need me some rabbits.

The ironworks.

Mr. Hackman.

[Coach commanding players in background]

Mr. Hackman.

Inspector, have you come to cart off more of my players?

Eliot, trap it first.

You spend every lunchtime thus?

Most days.

Good for the boys, let off steam, oil the joints.

Remember, the team achieves higher than the man.

We used to be employed thus, at this factory, in a team, I mean.

The division of labour left to our judgement, the spoils, ours to divide as we saw fit.

Those days are gone.

Trying to break the union are them bosses.

Prise apart the worker from his fellows.

But this, the football, they can't take that away from us.

You diagram fastidiously, sir.

Tactics, the inner workings of the game.

My old man was a watchmaker.

Every night, fingers at springs and cogs, assembling and correcting.

Never had the skill for it.

These are anvil hands.

But he tried to school me, he did, my pa.

Taught me about Isaac Newton, who thought the universe entire, one vast clockwork, wound on God's own crankshaft.

And you find this sport, these men to be as cogs?

I merely find they are the best of themselves at work harmonious.

And Thomas Gower, how does he fit into such work harmonious?

I don't see him here.

Gower, sacked him this morning.

For?

Turned up stinking of booze again.

A man who can not control himself makes weak his every fellow.

Gower chose the bottle over the hammer, forever bragging lies about his m*llitary record.

Medals my arse.

[Whistle blows]

Right, right. Gather in.

I need you to retrieve the m*llitary record of Thomas Gower.

With the authority of Inspector Drake, sir?

With my authority, Drummond.

Um, forgive me, Inspector. I didn't mean disrespect.

I appreciate your fastidiousness, Sergeant.

I shall tell my daughter to add it to her list of your favourable qualities.

Ooh, I do hope you enjoy your stroll together in Victoria Park this Sunday.

He gave him a long drink of milk and some bread.

And then she laid her hand on his head, and looked into his eyes.

For she thought perhaps that he might be her son, come back from the jungle, where the tiger had taken him.

[Knocking on door]

You go. I'll finish the story.

Mr. Drake. Sir, I beg pardon for the hour.

What is it, Thomas?

I was laid off at the ironwork, see, and...

I lack a penny for a bed, sir.

And I hoped you might... small loan that is, it's just a penny or two.

You've been drinking, lad?

No, sir.

No, Sergeant. I...

Come inside. Come on.

It's not right, Bennet.

Keep your voice down, girl.

He stinks, like a brewer's floor.

He is my guest.

I don't want him near Connor.

I'm trying to mother a child who will not have me.

And you, his father, invites a known m*rder*r into our home!

I saved the boy from the rope.

I sent him to w*r.

There's...

I have an obligation to see him right.

Coffee.

Drink it up.

Thomas, the booze?

What about it?

You know the factory don't allow it.

Well, I lost that job anyways.

It's cheaper elsewhere, ain't it?

The north, money first, men second.

Men's lives thrown away like peelings.

And in that factory, we made the warships, and them ships throw away men's lives too with cannon and shell.

Relax. Just slow down, please.

Help me understand.

When you soldiered, you sh*t r*fles, pistols, swung a blade.

You k*lled. I know it.

But you never saw Maxim machine g*n.

No, boy. I did not.

Well, I did, Sergeant.

We had Maxim g*ns. Whoa!

We had 'em plenty.

Fired your r*fle, did ya?

I seen a dozen g*ns spit 600 rounds a minute, fire and thunder what would split this world.

I seen a thousand men fall.

Not fall but... shred.

I seen men torn and splintered into meat with one trigger, a valley made a butcher's floor.

Thomas.

I recall... when I was a boy, you showed me a tattoo done by an holy man, you said, out in the desert, ink that you might sleep, forget the things you done at w*r.

Yeah.

All that lets me sleep is found in a bottle.

And I am yet to find a bottle deep and silent enough.

So don't you preach to me of bloody temperance.

Thomas.

You stay here tonight, eh?

We'll talk more in the morning.

I will help you, lad.

I will find a way.

How, Sergeant?

How?

[Sounds of w*r, g*nshots]

This way, Miss Susan.

The customs house is close above us now.

Hold, what is that?

Huh?

The river, the tide.

No, no. It's, ah, it's the Bazalgette sewer.

Miss Susan, oil of camphor, please.

Wine cellars, you said.

Come, come, come.

Come, it's straight here. Ahead, now.

Nathaniel, the strong room, what is within?

Never gone no further.

Why?

Abel Croker's say so.

Here, too much to be missed.

But there, beyond that barricade, treasure.

Gold?

Barricaded for a reason.

The guard station is unmanned.

They do patrol, however.

Miss Susan!

Miss Susan, please. Please, they come.

Miss Susan!

We leave now.

Boy, I knew you for a cretin, but a turncoat too?

Wish our lives here to come tumbling to an end, do you?

No, Abel, Abel, you b*at anyone, you b*at me!

Think I will not take my belt to you? Do you test me?

You wish to be paid for your care of us. There is a debt remaining, remember?

Or do you imagine it being paid by me performing your secretarial duties until the day you die?

I cannot stay here, Abel.

Abel: Whatever.

You know that.

Know too that I must take my son to my chest once more and be free.

Free?

That is not freedom.

Oh? Is it not? Hmm?

See this.

Me... the... the porcelain alone, three pieces Japanese awaiting the duty for Yamanaka and Company, Osaka.

That is thousands upon thousands of pounds.

Do you think me ignorant of such riches?

I am not.

I have resisted their lure for reasons with which you ought to be altogether familiar.

The hazard of overreaching, princess...

55 dead and your lovely face at the end of a rope.

My motives, what I sought to achieve, I would take the same risk again.

And hope for an alternative outcome?

Quite so.

But this, this is my escape.

And my husband and I shall do all we can to take it.

Whether you help us or no, Abel, you shall receive a great share of it for the shelter you have given me, the shelter and the care, because you are my friend, and will remain ever so.

Am I yours?

More than friend, indeed.

You are my girl who must leave me.

Then help me, Abel.

Help me to be free.

Morning, my love.

Bennet, what I said last night...

Rose, please.

Didn't sleep a wink again.

Dunno how much longer I can...

Darling, things will get better.

We're beginners, aren't we?

We will learn.

Connor will teach us.

Hmm.

The lad?

No sign of rousing.

Didn't like to disturb.

Yeah, best I do it.

[Knocking on door]

Thomas Gower, Thomas.

Get him out, Bennet.

Get him out of this house!

Forgive me.

Thomas!

[Door closes]

Thomas Gower's w*r record... court martial, dishonourable discharge.

The man he b*at, Private Carrie, lost an eye.

There was no medal, Bennet.

Gower spent three years at the m*llitary gaol in Gosport.

A man doesn't change, Mr. Drake.

And all this you investigated with my back turned.

Would you not have done the same if you thought I had, ah, an emotional attachment to the matter at hand?

Of course, just as you taught me, the great, objective Inspector Reid.

But objectively, this still does not make Thomas Gower Tanner's k*ller.

No, it does not, but it behoves us to ask of him certain questions.

And I would not do that also with your back turned.

Now, he has gone to ground, Mr. Drake.

I know one place he'd be.

Go on, all of you, outside. Hopscotch.

There'll be hot soup later.

Thank you, Miss Deborah.

It has to stop, Thomas.

The drink, it is a slow poison and no more.

I don't wanna drink no more, Miss Deborah.

[Knocking on door]

Where is he?

Thomas, come with us.

You must.

I've done nothing.

That's as may be, boy, but you must come.

The boy is sick. Can you not see that?

A hangover is hardly the black death, Miss Goren.

I had hoped perhaps you were coming with news of Rabbi Ratovski's m*rder*r, or coming to tell me that Isaac Bloom was vindicated after all, and your remorse for his death was fathomless.

I did not expect you to be dragging off a suffering young man.

Will you hang him for Ratovski too?

Ratovski was m*rder*d by Isaac Bloom, Miss Goren.

And Bloom met his justice.

Thomas, now.

He is wrong, Edmund, and you know it.

You lied to me.

I told you what you wanted to hear.

I wanna hear the truth.

I don't know the truth.

No more lies, boy!

You dossed in his bed that night, didn't you?

And you hid your ruined shirt in panic.

He was kind to you.

He was a friend to you.

Was Private Carrie a friend also?

As you drank and you drank and you blinded Carrie.

And you drank and you drank, and you m*rder*d Tanner.

I... I don't know.

We... we were celebrating things. Charlie got offered a new job, a team transfer.

But I... I'd been to the bowl.

Something smashed.

It broke.

Then I was out cold.

When I woke, Charlie was...

I had blood on me.

Because you k*lled him.

I was afraid!

I didn't know.

It's all black.

Don't you see?

I forget all but what I drink to forget.

It was you. You pulverized Tanner with a hammer.

As you b*at Carrie, your brother-in-arms, as you m*rder*d Manby the toymaker when a mere boy in this parish.

You were a k*ller then, and you are a k*ller still.

It's... it's dark.

It was you. Say it.

I cannot remember.

Thomas, say it.

Say it.

I done it. I done it.

I k*lled him.

I got it.

I got it.

The blood, the sheet, the shirt. Have a see.

Gower confessed.

The shirt is his.

Oh, he did, huh?

Well, it looks like we got ourselves a little conundrum.

Because whoever was wearing that shirt did not k*ll Charlie Tanner.

The spatter on the wall where Charlie was k*lled.

Now, you see the force of it?

It's the velocity of the spray.

Now you look at the bed.

Rounder droplets, less force.

Now, this is cast off spatter.

The k*ller was hammering Tanner by the wall.

He swings back, and blood flies off the hammer, lands behind him onto the bed.

But look at the shape.

Now, there should be blood there too, but there's a ghosting.

So something stopped him.

Somebody.

The shirt.

The pattern matches.

Cast off spatter.

Meaning, this is Thomas Gower's shirt, then Gower ain't your k*ller, because he was flat out on the bed behind the k*ller when Charlie Tanner got his brains b*at out.

There was a third.

Correct.

And they took something.

Now, I almost missed it on account of he was such a mess, but here.

It's a feint ligature.

He wore something around his neck.

Hung there and torn off.

[Knocking on door]

Oh, Inspectors.

Ah, Captain, all the constables are asking after the, ah... the bunnies, sir.

That they might be put in a pot for stew.

A few rabbits might have made a noble sacrifice in the...

[Clears throat] pursuit of this forensication.

Impressive work, Captain.

Where's your money now, Reid?

Thomas, I expected you to be relieved.

Relieved, Mr. Drake?

And if it wasn't for the gin, I would have not lied there in my own black sweat and piss while Charlie took a hammer from some bastard.

You could not help him then, so help him now.

You said that Tanner was offered a transfer.

The Woolwich Arsenal wanted him.

Good job, good pay, captaining in the team.

Charlie could leave Whitechapel and all these shitcake streets behind him.

Thomas, did Charlie Tanner wear anything about his neck, a cross or a locket?

He had a pendant.

St. Sebastian, he said.

Patron of athletes and of soldiers too.

St. Sebastian.

Here we go.

St. Sebastian.

My boy.

Ah, I won't run.

Never had the speed anyways.

Not like Charlie did.

He was running from you, wasn't he?

And you couldn't stand to see him leave your team.

I made him, here.

He was nothing.

He was the sh*t on your shoe.

And he would repay me thus?

I made him!

Human beings are not cast metal, Mr. Hackman.

They are not ore to be forged as you wish.

My old man would talk of the universe, God's crankshaft, Newton.

What good's all them laws against a man's own lawless heart?

It's us always, ain't it?

The force unfactored, the secret fault, the nameless splinter that breaks the system.

I loved that boy.

Men of iron?

Men of smoke is all we are.

Bring me them shackles.

We made them here.

I need dynamite for the door.

You find a fence.

Everything has to be right.

And when it's done, everything has to be ready.

Connor, we cannot make a single mistake when we take him back.

I know, darling.

I know.

I need to see the house, the streets around it.

We need to know how to enter and leave as ghosts.

Well, it looks like we have ourselves another midnight ramble, huh?

That's useful work you're doing for Miss Goren, Thomas.

Heard it was Hackman done in Charlie.

It was.

Then why are you here?

Because, lad, the offer still stands.

You can work at Leman Street with me.

But you have to stop the drinking.

I'd sooner have took the rope than seen what I seen, done what I done.

You think you saved me?

You sent me somewhere worse than death.

Thomas.

You ain't my friend.

You ain't my guardian.

You are black wings casting shadow over me.

And I know not if I shall ever feel light again.

[Door slams]

[Knocking on door]

[Door opens]

You wished to see me?

Inspector Reid, when you worked under Fred Abberline, did you presume to question his judgement at every turn?

Mr. Drake, Bennet...

Inspector Drake, I am Inspector Drake.

And when I was your sergeant, did I presume to question your judgement?

You did not, Inspector Drake.

Then with what conceited licence is it you ceaselessly question mine?

My suspicions of Thomas Gower were, I accept, unfounded.

So they were.

And yet what a merry dance you led behind my back to see him proved otherwise.

But more fool me to be surprised when your very return to Whitechapel was to question my conviction of Isaac Bloom Because even though he'd come to pass his days shucking oysters on the sands of Hampton, my judgement was apparently insufficient for the great Edmund Reid.

Inspector Drake, it was never my intention to doubt your...

Intention, Inspector?

Well, let's not speak of those.

It was never my intention to have you here before me thus!

But of late, I have come to thinking a man's intentions count for something less than nought in this world.

Bennet.

You will hear me, Edmund Reid!

I watched you, your sly words, pressing and turning him to your will.

Even had the boy himself believe he'd done them things!

We coppered good together, you and I once.

But, ah, maybe them days have passed.

You will henceforth do me the courtesy of respect, Mr. Reid.

If I find you manoeuvring beyond my eyeline once more, I will revoke your warrant card, send you away, and do so with joy.

I will endeavour to serve this division to my utmost, Inspector Drake.

Then we are concluded, Inspector Reid.

[Phone ringing]

[Door opens]

[Door closes]

The Talmud tells us that the tree of knowledge itself, instrument of our fall, was a grape vine.

Time was, Thomas, the vine held its sway over me also.

But not now?

But not now.

Deborah tells me that you were born a Jew, Thomas.

Do you believe in God?

No God would permit the things I've seen.

But we can help you, Thomas, give you comfort here.

Would you care to pray with me?

I don't want your help.

I don't need help from nobody.

Thomas.

Not you neither, Miss Goren.

I... I should not have come back to you.

[Door opens]

[Door closes]

[Coughing]

[Bottle smashes]

[Growling]

[Cries out in pain]

[Yells]

[Grunts]

[s*ab wounds ooze blood]

[Blood dripping]

[Gasping and gurgling]

[Breathing heavily]

[Slow footsteps]

[Dog barking]

[Wind whistling]

♪

Miss Deborah.

Connor sleeps in their bedroom at the back.

I'll show you where we can flee with him.

I need to see him.

Caitlin, no.

I need to see him, Matthew, if only for a moment.

[Sighs]

♪

My boy, my darling.

Caitlin, we have to leave!

Mama.

Do you want your mama, sweet boy?

(Laughs)

Do you want your mum?

[Theme music]