04x05 - No Wolves In Whitechapel

[bunniefuu]

Reid: Do you know a man named Ratovski?

He is dead.

How is he dead?

By my hand, so it is said.

There's a belief in the community that it's being haunted by a monster.

Golem.

You should save your shock and awe for this.

Jackson: Those are bite marks, Reid.

Flesh torn out with teeth.

I could no more k*ll Leon Ratovski than I could k*ll myself.

Do you travel somewhere, Miss Castello?

Paris, a story hunted down.

Thomas Gower? 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.

Yaaagh!

[Slicing noise]

Ugh.

What trouble brings you here, young Mr. Dove?

I've a worry which roots itself in these parts.

Mr. Theakston?

Theakston: Yes, Miss S.?

Will you take Connor for a few moments?

Course, Miss S.

It is you who gains access to the Customs House, is it not?

Might you show me?

But there, beyond the barricade, treasure.

Look, the golem.

[Dog barking]

What's that?

[Dog barking]

[Rain and thunder]

[Ominous music]

[Dog barking]

[Clattering noises]

[Loud gasps]

[Theme music]

[Heavy rain]

[Chatter]

Excuse me.

Ahh! Police!

Stop! There's someone there.

What?

No!

Yes! He's... he's covered in blood. He's dead.

Drake: I do not say you did not see it.

I only say that what you saw, it was not real.

It... it cannot be real.

Rose: It was as real as you are now, Bennet Drake.

I don't know how many times I need to say this.

The woman is dead. I saw it myself.

Her ankles are twitched, dead.

Then how?

How, Bennet?

I am not mad!

I am not that. I saw her.

It is because you cannot rest.

You are sleepless.

No.

Rose, any woman would suffer so.

Their senses adrift, frayed through lack of rest.

You must rest, Rose. Please.

Uncle Bennet, perhaps this is not, after all, the best time.

No, child, this... this is good. We are... we are glad you've come.

Please, sit.

It is Mathilda, my love, as we said, come to watch the lad a while, give him some lunch and his tea, and... allow you some sleep.

Allow those frayed senses of yours to knit again.

Only sleep, my love.

All will be right again.

And do not forget, Miss Susan was your dear friend.

And in your heart, you must yet mourn for her.

No, Bennet, she is no friend of mine.

That bitch means to steal our child.

Finished. Do you understand?

Only for real this time.

Our boy never clapping eyes on us as long as he lives, unless it's a newspaper photograph, the pair of us with ropes around our necks.

What was I supposed to do, Matthew?

He called to me, my son. He called to me.

Ought I to just have abandoned him once more?

You want to know what he's going to look like when he's a grown man?

Teach him to ride? Watch him fall in love for the first time?

You want to know those things to pass? Then yeah, you God damn ought to have left them there to wail for you.

Oh, you're a man.

You don't understand.

Oh, that's a fine apology.

Oh, I must apologise now, must I? To you?

Who I would otherwise consider the bane of my life, if banes weren't altogether more bearable!

No, no, no. You are not going to deflect this on me.

It's I that must go to my place of work... a police station... and pray to God that my chief's wife is not believed when she says she saw a dead woman walk by her window last night.

Oh, she won't be.

She was... she was barely awake. She was sleepwalking.

And besides, as you say, I am dead.

Whoever would believer her? Hm?

Well, we're soon going to find out, won't we?

Need my laboratory, don't I?

Potassium nitrate, make this the lock-cr*cker for your little escapade tonight.

It mustn't happen tonight, must it?

It must.

You think you could sway Silver Beard to that way of thinking?

You leave Abel to me.

If I'm not back by 10:00 tonight, you just assume I'm taken.

Make all further arrangements without me.

Only you make them fast. Do you hear me?

And you get yourself gone.

Bane of your life, huh?

Dock worker in distance: Oi, oi! Can I get a hand over here?

Croker: In recognition of his outstanding achievement in the reorganisation of the Metropolitan Police Detective Department, Her Majesty the Queen, last night, bestowed the Companion of the Order of the Bath to Assistant Commissioner Augustus Dove.

Drummond: This ceremony took place at Tornby Hall, where no less a personage than Joseph Chamberlain, the Colonial Secretary, conferred the honour.

Oh, hold up, Drum. It's the father-in-law.

Morning, Mr. Reid.

Drummond. Thatcher.

Morning, Mr. Reid.

Hey, sir, did you see?

Assistant Commissioner Dove got a bauble for his coat.

Do you disrespect this country's heraldic traditions, Sergeant?

Not me, Mr. Reid.

Still, it's a wonder, is it not, where a common fellow may rise to these days?

Oh, you work hard, Thatcher, who knows how far you may travel.

Oh, I do not speak of myself, sir, no.

Happy as he is, that's Frankie Thatcher.

No, it's Drum here that I ask for.

Indeed, and why might Sergeant Drummond thank you for inquiring after his prospects?

Oh, he's my friend is all.

And I know how he means to be... uh... to be well thought of in this world.

Frank, enough.

Oh, he is well thought of, Mr. Thatcher. I can vouch for that.

[Phone ringing]

Leman Street.

Body found of the back of Heneage.

Mr. Reid, wait if you please!

Men come. Rope the area off as good as you can.

[Hangs up phone]

The body, it is a dead man, one known to us, sir.

And who that, Mr. Drummond?

Man on street: Right, left...

[Whistle sounds]

Jackson: Drake.

Jackson.

Quiet night?

Quiet enough.

So the boy, he's settling on then?

He does.

Mr. Drake, a man's body is found, m*rder*d, so it's said.

Who is it to attends?

I feel we must.

Who is it, Mr. Reid?

Captain, yourself also.

Tell me who it is, Inspector!

I am sorry, Bennet.

[Chatter]

Get out of the way. Move it!

You men, I want these ghouls 10 yards further back.

Oh, Thomas, a street-fight.

Kn*fe wound.

Gave as good as you got, did you not, Thomas boy?

Could have been over 200 pairs of boots up and down here since sun-up.

Any signs that may have been read would have been trod and kicked into obscurity.

He wasn't k*lled here, however.

See his knees, grooves and abrasions. And his hands likewise.

It's gravel rash.

He was... he was dragged.

Dragged himself.

Woodseer Orphanage is three streets north of here.

How?

There is this violent altercation.

The assailant takes the Kn*fe to finish the matter, leaves him.

So he crawls to where he might feel safe.

Ms. Goren: You let me through. Let me through.

Let me through!

[Chatter]

Let me see him!

Oh!

Deborah...

Oh, who has done this to him?

Miss Goren, let us do our work.

No!

Deborah...

And what use is that work, Edmund Reid? What use to us all?

Please, please, let me walk you home. You cannot help him now.

Sergeant Drake, as you once were, think of this boy.

Think of all you have done for him!

[Muffled cries]

Come, come.

[Flash burst]

Thatcher, remove this hacker and her work.

There's no law says you may take that, Sergeant.

Oh, is there not? Aw.

[Shattering glass]

Get you gone, woman.

Go!

Ugh!

The wound... how long for him to bleed out, do we say?

10 minutes, certainly no longer.

And so injured, he could not have dragged himself at no more than what?

10 yards a minute, maybe.

Miss Goren's orphanage, north of here.

He must therefore come from the other direction.

Thatcher...

Yeah?

I want a radius, 150 yards, all points south.

Such a ruck... it would not took a place on a main thoroughfare.

We look for dark corners, therefore, laneway dens, evil rookery yards. Get these men to it!

All right, boys, I need you to split three ways.

Fan out, south and south-west.

Ask yourself... any sign of a ruck... we need to search.

Some will say this is what k*lled him, this from which the ruin of his life was made.

This is the response, not the question.

[Sigh]

Edmund Reid, who sees life and it's puzzles clearer than you?

I have no idea what life would look like were it not a puzzle.

Were it not, I firmly believe the two of us would never have met.

No.

Well, here is another puzzle for you.

Why is it, do you suppose, in the... in the 2½ months since Isaac was hanged, you have not sat down to take a drink with me once?

Why do you think?

I felt shame.

[Deep inhale]

Because you could not save Isaac?

I wasn't going to show you these, but...

These are drawings made of this Whitechapel golem in the weeks before the Rabbi Ratovski was m*rder*d.

No, they are the drawings made in the past month.

And what do you make of that fact, Deborah?

If they draw him still, perhaps he lives still and did not die when Isaac Bloom was hanged.

Might I borrow these?

Edmund, there... there is a matter... I feel it is, perhaps, disloyal to say it.

But... but your daughter Mathilda...

What of her?

Her friendship with Miss Castello...

Rachel is a good person. This I know.

But she is young and angered.

She feels... you police hide the truth of what is acted out on the people of her faith.

She is Jewish?

Raised as an English woman.

However, she discovers her heritage with a zeal, a zeal for truth, and that truth to be discovered however it may, if you see my meaning.

I do not know if it is disloyal.

But I know that I am grateful to you, the sharing of it.

[Street chatter]

Whoa, hey. Hey!

[Bells ringing]

[Suspenseful music]

Woman: What happened?

Woman: Blimey, what are they lookin' for?

[Crowd chatters]

Here, you be Gower.

Might be something.

Reid: You are a newspaper woman.

It is your job to inveigle, to connive, to seduce. But this is low.

She's a child.

She's my child.

She is not that, Mr. Reid.

I don't not know here well. But what I do know of her, I admire.

And she's no child, sir.

And you think to turn her to what? My betrayal?

No, sir, never that.

I seek only that which you seek also, Mr. Reid, that which I find endlessly injuncted from me, the truth.

Wait. What is that?

Is this the m*rder*d man Ratovski?

What is this? What is this mapping?

What is it you make here?

A history... of the frozen and famished journeys made by those of my faith, that they might find shelter in Whitechapel.

Ratovski's journey amongst?

Ratovski? What of him? Show me. Show me!

No, sir, I will not.

Bring a warrant if you must press it.

A warrant.

Or what details of the man and his end which you yourself keep hidden from view in the H-Division archives.

I believe there is an expression for the exchange, quid pro quo.

See this?

It's piercing of the spleen, unstoppable internal bleeding.

That was the finishing, but not the finishing he sought.

You don't mean it.

All right, look at Gower's pockets. There's money within.

Therefore, it's not a theft.

It is personal?

His first point of att*ck from behind.

Pinned against the wall. He wished to Kn*fe him, he would have done it there and then.

It is an easy thing to say, I know, but it is not you did this.

It is not you put that Kn*fe in him.

Nor you yourself, Mr. Reid.

Oh God, no.

No, no, no, no!

What?

[Ominous music]

[Uncradling phone]

Jackson: Hey, Drummond, I need you to dig up a file for me.

Last name, Ratovski.

What is it you do?

Tell me!

What do you think?

This is a human bite mark.

[Phone ringing]

What?

What do you mean, gone?

Sergeant Drummond, beneath my desk, calfskin briefcase. It is within.

Why is it you've kept it, Inspector?

The case remains of interest.

Despite my instructions otherwise?

What would you have me do, Bennet?

Avert my eyes?

Exactly that, Mr. Reid.

We had precise words on that matter, did we not?

And I was clear as to what such disobedience might then incur.

[Knock on door]

Get out, Drummond.

Yes, Mr. Drake.

[Sigh]

They are not alike, Jackson. Not close!

That's because those were taken from the lower abdomen.

It's fleshier there, there's more to take.

In both these examples, the mandibular lower incisor is overlapped by the maxillary central incisor.

And now, the exact measurement on each of them is a notch... and I mean a notch... under 250 thou.

An overbite.

A slight overbite.

You throw a rock into Commercial Street at lunchtime, and you will strike a man with the same.

Further more, the method of att*ck on this here is... it's entirely at odds.

This is... this is a street brawl, a knifing!

Drake!

Now, whatever this means to you, it means the exact same to me.

I made this case too.

Now, how many examples of pre and post-mortem biting have we had in the eight years since I've served you here?

No.

Save this Ratovski, and now your boy Gower.

They see him still, who they used to call the Whitechapel golem.

These were drawn recently at the orphanage in Woodseer Street.

Bennet...

No.

No.

This man's k*ller has been hanged for his crime.

And these... children's scrawlings and overbite... they are not evidence fit for the overturning of that sentence.

Now, I warned you, Mr. Reid.

So you give me reason why I ought not to send you away?

This here now, I do not pursue it in some attempt to make the world wrong or to disprove your work, his work, our work.

I do it because I see the need for it.

And yes, my return to Whitechapel was indeed to make some defence of Isaac.

But that I stayed it is you, Bennet Drake, you my friend, who I missed.

And who, now, I wish nothing other than to help.

And how is it you now help me?

I want what you want. I want to know who it was k*lled this boy.

I want to see the investigation I make bring you to him.

I want to give Thomas Gower his justice, to use his awful death to make comparison.

Despite all that you say, there are similarities with Ratovski's m*rder that must at least be discarded before any investigation could move forward.

So you show me the case you made against Bloom, Bennet.

Show me, every step of the way.

And then, either, you will prove me wrong.

In which case, you may indeed send me away.

Or we... you and I... shall then together bring this k*ller to earth.

Well, he has me sold.

May I fetch you something, Mrs. Drake?

Fetch me my boy.

Hm.

Hm.

[Giggles]

Come.

Why are you here?

My Uncle Bennett, your husband, asked it of me, so you might rest, Mrs. Drake.

No, girl, why are you in Whitechapel?

And don't talk your riddles with me and tell me you are here because your father, Mr. Reid, is here.

You tell me why the pair of you would return to this place at all.

It is our home.

Home?

A place where he knew nothing but blood and despair?

Where you were kept prisoner by all them people?

Your mother gone... dead and mad for the loss of you?

That's home, is it?

Home chooses us, I believe, and not the reverse.

[Scoffs]

Tell me, will you marry a copper also, Mathilda?

I would say I'm too young for marriage, Mrs. Drake.

Too young?

Shall I tell you all I had lived by 19 years of age?

I should be interested to know, Mrs. Drake.

But I am quite aware of the needs and necessities which drive those of our sex to the life you led before the music halls welcomed you.

Are you though, Miss Reid?

I do not think you are quite aware of what it is to have six men a night heave themselves into you for the profit of another.

And you and I both know whose profit that was, do we not?

You know who the mother i...

[Scoffs]

Not mother.

I am that. I am.

You know who the maker of Connor here is?

It is Miss Susan.

It is Miss Susan.

It is her.

She who might poison the well of all London and find those who still love and forgive her.

Yourself, Mathilda, I'm sure you would be delighted to see her once more and pass an hour or two in chat with her.

It is true, I would. But Miss Susan is dead.

Hm.

Miss Susan is dead.

Long Susan Hart is dead.

The whole world thought you were dead and gone, Mathilda.

And yet, there you stand.

Connor, Connor, your mama is sorry.

♪ In the pines, in the pines ♪
♪ Where the sun don't ever shine. ♪

Mathilda, he likes a pinch of cinnamon in his milk.

And we're now run dry of it.

Will you take a penny from my purse there and fetch him some?

Of course, Mrs. Drake.

[Humming]

[Door opens and closes]

When I was a girl and I wanted my way, I would wheedle and whine, offer eternal devotion for a desire met, owe a thing for one denied.

Croker: And you are now changed how?

I do not whine.

Small mercies.

And a man as accustomed to lying as you are would see clean through me as soon as I made as if I hated you.

Oh, but you have charm, my girl.

And if we are to do this thing, let us do it tonight.

It is intemperate.

It is bold.

See you, Lady Macbeth.

Thieve in haste, repent at leisure.

Gather your Japanese porcelain while you may.

[Croker laughs]

If it must indeed come to pass that you leave us, I would see you steam away from me on still waters.

And this... plans must be made, observations took.

They are made.

They are took, by myself.

Because, Abel, the snare closes.

Closes? How? I'll keep you safe here.

It's only that I feel it.

I feel it on me sharp.

No.

You are all together too tough-minded for such suspicions.

You tell me, girl... you tell me how that snare looks?

I have been seen.

Oh!

Does she say, thank you, Matthew, for saving my life?

Well done?

Nope.

Take me to see my boy.

Now, I told you that was a bad idea.

And did you listen?

No.

And whose problem is it now?

That's right, Old Jackson.

And I'm the one that goes off half-cocked.

I'm the one that doesn't think things through.

[Equipment clatters]

sh*t! Idiot!

[Rain and thunder]

This how she did it then?

What did she promise you, Guard Theakston, money?

For delivery to that pit?

A kind word?

Her snake tongue in your ear?

Who is it you speak of?

I don't even know who you are.

Oh, do you not?

What about the boy then?

Remember him?

That's Miss Susan's boy.

And you would let him believe she is dead when she is not.

How did she climb down from that scaffold, eh?

How did she do that?

Think I will not see you corrected for this if you do not tell?

My husband, this boy's new father, he is the police headman at Whitechapel.

And he will see you swing, just as surely as he will her when he catches her.

How did she do it?

Where is she hid, eh?

Who hides her?

I see you, your fear.

You tell me.

You're mad, woman.

You're all the same.

Ugh.

Come on, Connor.

[Chatter]

This is where we found Ratovski, here.

Boy found him, raised a uniform.

You were able to keep the scene intact?

It was chaos by the time I got here, packed tight, screaming.

Folk could see what had been done to him.

Head caved in, shirt ripped from him, and... those bites taken out of his body.

Word would've got about, I imagine, chimed most likely with the... uh... the talk that had grown up of this Whitechapel golem.

Although, there is no golem myth in which it is said to have torn men's flesh from their bodies.

Whatever the myth of it, Mr. Reid, we saw that any confirmation of that fact be withheld from the press.

And why that?

I was worried at what those with a fear of our Jewish neighbours might accuse them of.

I felt it a wise policy.

And one that you continued once Isaac Bloom was...

Once he, a Jewish man, was sentenced for it, yes.

So then, you removed the body?

We did.

Identification?

The man's university accreditation was found about him.

You'd wired his place of work?

He'd taken a week's leave, not told a soul for why.

And then, door-to-door?

The synagogue on Princelet Street.

Max Steiner.

Ratovski paid his respects, made a few prayers, and offered nothing of his purpose, and left.

Then, we go to Bloom's lodgings next.

An old lock-seller, a lady, said she saw Ratovski arrive at Blooms around 6:00 of the evening.

Saw him leave an hour later.

His body found...

The next morning.

But k*lled, according to Jackson, 11:00 of the night.

Then you interviewed Bloom. You found him disturbed, I imagine.

More bewildered at the first.

He could not recall Ratovski's visit nor even that the man existed.

And you did not search his room then?

I had no call to.

It was not as though I did not remember the man fondly, Mr. Reid.

I felt sad for him, not suspicious.

So it was not until you had Rabbi Steiner's account of him being att*cked by Bloom that you returned.

Another violent att*ck on a religious man.

Compelling indicator that warranted further pursuit.

A search warrant was requested.

We returned to Bloom's lodgings here, conducted our search, found that plug of flesh, that shirt.

[Door opening]

[Gasps]

[Yelling in Hebrew]

[Yelling in Hebrew]

Calm yourself, sir, I beg you.

Calm yourself.

Police!

We mean you no harm.

Our apologies.

We will leave you.

Briggs, here, take a shift.

Tell me, what is it?

Is my Uncle Bennet here? My father?

Neither, Tilda. What is it that worries you? What do you say?

I think I must not, Drum. Might I wait, however?

Do I wait, then, for you to show me what it is I have neglected to see?

No, 'tis copper fastened, Bennet.

I would have come to the same conclusions. I do not contest that.

Perhaps, I worry it is, ah, too much of an irreproachable case.

[Sigh] We here cannot win but for one fault or another.

But do you not agree?

In his bewilderment, you have found a perfect suspect?

In that search, the unimprovable evidence?

Does such ease... given what we've seen today... not raised the slightest shiver of suspicion for you?

And is that not you all over, Mr. Reid?

Your fevered eyes once more burning through the deceit of the world, in the hope that you might, at last, uncover its black mechanics.

And there, perhaps, is the difference between you and I.

I chose this work because I believe... in my dull simplicity... that the inequities of this life might be checked.

But you... well, I've come to believe that you choose them in the hope that they may never cease.

For what then, Edmund Reid?

What then for that restless soul of yours?

[Loud chatter]

[Whistle blowing]

[Excited voices]

See the wound to his side? The bite marks?

All the signs of the golem. You see?

Miss Castello: Don't you see what has been done to him, sir? To his flesh?

Sir, Inspector Drake. Sir! Inspector Drake!

Will you not tell me what our eyes now see here?

What has been done to this man?

Or will you hide the facts of this case too?

Come on, come on.

No!

No.

[Music playing]

[Angry voices]

I wonder if you understand, if you could imagine even what it is so many in our community have suffered to...

If you will, please...

I will not, Inspector Drake!

They do not walk, starving, through the frozen steps of Europe to arrive here to be so savaged just when they imagine they... have some salvation near at hand.

You are charged with the peoples protection, sir.

And you have failed in that mandate!

And you, Mr. Reid, how will you remedy this?

I will ask you of this man.

Will you tell me his name?

His name is Nagleman.

More than that, I can't tell you.

He recently came here from Lithuania, as you can see, emaciated from his deprivations.

But we cared for him.

We gave him a room beneath the synagogue.

And that is where you found him, sir?

It was.

Mr. Thatcher, you will escort Rabbi Steiner back to Princelet Street.

Take men. And you will work the room as you have been taught.

Rabbi Steiner, we will see these streets now scoured for the cause of this.

You have my word. We will not rest till it is done.

Bennet... Bennet!

What?! What?

Do you try to tell me the old man is wrong?

Do you?

That this is not at my door? This Nagleman? Thomas Gower.

Isaac Bloom, innocent and hanged.

You are not their k*ller.

You are not.

This is a battle worth of blood, remember?

This is not a battle. This is defeat.

Oh, so the abyss will swallow Bennet Drake, will it?

It swallowed you once, if you remember.

Jackson: Our Gower was a soldier with the strength to resist this... uh... fetish with the body. But this man... no, you can see how weak he is.

Advanced malnutrition, severe muscle waste.

There's necrosis of the fat cells.

You can approximate a time of death?

Are you asking if it was about the same time as Gower's?

Yeah, I'd say it was approximate, Reid.

30th, September, 1888.

The double event.

Mm.

Catherine Eddowes' body found three quarters of an hour after that of Elizabeth Stride.

Whether he was interrupted or she did not serve his needs, the Ripper was unable to do what he wished with Miss Stride.

And so, glutted himself on Miss Eddowes.

But here, our k*ller here... he finds himself face-to-face with Thomas's strength and resistance.

It takes a Kn*fe to end that resistance.

Then, he flees from the rumpus he has no doubt made, makes his way towards the refugee lodgings in Princelet Street...

Finds a man too broken to fight, let's his desires grow fierce.

Now, come see. Take a look here.

These are parallel tracks where the upper incisors scraped down the skin.

And these are static puncture marks where he then gouges down onto the lower teeth.

And then, the flesh is torn and sheared.

So it's almost as if he's shaking them with his teeth.

So this biting... it presents itself less as cannibalism and more of a... a means of att*ck.

It's like an animal.

Like a dog att*cks?

Like a dog. It's alike.

And this is the animal hair that I took from where Gower was found.

From the scale pattern of the cuticle and the medulla type, it's from an animal that is very much like a dog.

It's a timber wolf.

Now, this town is crazy, I grant you. But the last time I checked, there were no wolves in Whitechapel.

[Phone ringing]

[Ringing continues until uncradled]

Reid: Yes?

Yes, that's understood.

Assistant Commissioner Dove is here.

The error of it, sir.

The sheer bloody muck of the mistake.

Not for the minding of, Inspector, not now. Not yet.

[Train whistle sounds outside]

[Train approaching and passing outside]

I know you, the man you are, the policeman you are.

Compassion and rigour you brought to that case, as to every other part of your work here.

You could never be questioned.

It must be brought once more, Mr. Drake.

This k*ller must be trapped.

I know you understand this, sir.

You shall have all the resources you require.

Thank you, sir.

And I expect updates on the hour.

You shall have them, Mr. Dove.

Mr. Reid.

You find this savage beast, Inspector.

I will, sir.

Good evening, Mrs. Drake.

Hello to you, young man.

I'm sure Mr. Dove is pleased to see you, as I am.

But it is late for the lad to be out and about.

Rose, he is freezing.

Never mind, Connor. Better you mind me.

Not Now, woman. Not here.

Mr. Drake, I should...

No, Augustus, you will here this.

Drake: Rose...

I have no secrets.

And best you know how it is a murderess escaped her sentence.

I know how she did it. I know.

I have discovered it.

Rose, I have told you, this is a madness.

It is not, Bennett!

See, I went to Newgate, to the pit there.

And there is a guard, name of Theakston Hull.

How he used to make eyes at Long Susan.

Mrs. this, Mrs. that... he'd have cleaned her ass with his tongue had she asked for it.

Rose, enough!

No, I stopped him.

And I asked him.

I said, how'd she done it? Tell us. Tell us where she hides.

And you should have seen it. White as the beard of God.

And I knew it. I knew it then.

She must have been put in that Newgate pit still alive and some accomplice to come and collect her.

You cannot think...

You think I'm not able?

Just remember all that she has done.

55 man, woman, child... and not a soul in this square mile whose live's not changed by her, by Long Susan Hart.

And she is about her evil once more.

You will stop this now!

Oh, just try and make me, Bennet Drake!

Say you love me, do you? Well, you cannot.

Because you do not trust me.

I, who have trusted you and had faith in you, when I know the black things you have done.

You will be silent.

I will not!

Reid, Susan, the captain, all of you, the things you have done.

And I have kept that secret like a poison in my heart.

Rose!

Jackson: Enough!

You two stop this right now.

Have a care.

Let me take him home then.

We must take him home now, love.

Come on.

Let us go home.

Did you hear her accusations?

I couldn't fail to, could I, Frank?

And so, what do you say?

I say they are best unheard.

[Scoffs]

I'll tell you what, Miss Reid, he's a lickspittle, this one.

And you, Frank Thatcher, have an old woman's snatch box for gossip.

If you do not mind, Mathilda, I should like a word with Sergeant Drummond.

Yes, sir. Here, sir?

No, Public House, I think.

Thatcher, you may stand at dock until he returns.

You might be a little warier with my daughter, however.

After you, Drummond.

[Sigh] It's still too God damn wet.

Have to serve.

[Chatter]

You should know, Mr. Reid, that your Mathilda... uh, I mean to say, if it please you, t-that y-you ought not to be afraid of any impropriety or... or ugly motive on my part.

I seek only to... if such were permitted, both by yourself a-and herself, of course...

I... I seek only to be allowed to come to know her a little better and...

Drummond...

Yes, Mr. Reid?

Six months back, when Captain Jackson removed the bloody imprint of Isaac Bloom's fingerprints from the shirt placard of the m*rder*d Rabbi Ratovski and Inspector Drake wished them then to be used as evidence... you recall all this?

I do.

And the warrant was then secured for the search of Mr. Bloom's rooms.

Yes, sir.

And when it was felt that the full and awful details of the crime should not be broadcast abroad for fear of panic and so the newspapers were injuncted, all this you recall?

Well, who could forget, Mr. Reid?

Then, tell me, whose authority was it saw all these commands made?

Why, Mr. Dove, sir.

[Steam horn]

Good evening, Augustus.

You have heard the rumpus out there?

I have not, forgive me.

This has been a day.

Well, it must've been, for the whole world cries of it.

Of what?

Not the once, but twicer.

He has performed his act once more.

Ah, the last occasion he confessed to both of us what he'd done to that rabbi.

Oh, I remember, Abel. What a run-around that was.

You were meant to care for him.

And I do. I do!

This cannot happen again. He must be watched.

Ah, I know. I know.

And further to that, Abel, the woman you shelter, I now know who she is.

Why would you not tell me?

She is almost a celebrity in these parts.

And you have kept her these two months.

I have grown fond of her, wish her well.

Your murderous conniving mind, by your kind heart, it will be the finishing of ya.

Hm, I do not think it is the end of myself which currently exercises you, Assistant Commissioner.

You and that bauble so recently pinned to your breast.

And besides, they owe me money.

She and her American husband?

Oh, yeah.

How did he do it?

How did he fake her death, Abel? Free her?

Oh, damned if I know. But he is a sharp one.

Plus, there are plans afoot, which will see the pair of them gone.

Plans?

Hm.

There is currently some merit in H-Division's finest surgeon being gone from it.

You set about your plan, Abel.

I shall set about seeing how else the trail that leads to us may be broke and scattered.

How that, Augustus? How broke? How scattered?

Never mind that for now. You get home.

And you keep that beast close to you, you understand?

[Ominous music]

[Door opens]

Matthew, I was afraid.

Me and you both, Darling.

I tell ya, this town, the things that I've seen within it today... me and you've got to get this thing finished and ourselves done with this place for all time.

Where is the sea-dog?

He's called away.

And the Ret*rded first-mate?

Sleeping beyond.

[Heavy breathing]

[Knocking]

I know there's wisdom in sleeping on it for night work.

But it's time to rise and get about it now, son.

Croker: Well, my children, the night is a dark one.

Clouds roll over.

Such auguries must not be ignored.

Let us eat before we thieve.

Move across.

I sit there.

Go, Nate. Move along.

Who are we to separate husband and wife?

Ah, while you're up, get them kerosene lamps and wipe them down.

There is food aplenty, Captain.

No call for you to be filching others.

Sleep.

Forget about this world awhile.

Were there naught to be done, I would stay, Rose.

But... uh... tonight there is an evil out there, which I...

I cannot hide at home, my love.

And for all of it may not be worth a heap of sh*t no more....

I must go to work.

Bennet...

Yes, my love?

Do what you like.

[Street chatter]

[Train chugging]

As we have agreed, your building of the case... the evidence which convicted Mr. Bloom, it was flawless.

But we know that Isaac Bloom cannot have k*lled Ratovski, because...

The k*ller still walks amongst us.

Yes.

Now, we must needs look elsewhere for the flaw, Bennet.

And so, I only ask you to think on who else might have had both the knowledge and the opportunity.

What?

My division has known care and advancement beneath his eye.

He has been the voice and encouragement we who must police this quarter have always called for.

He has understood my life here, Mr. Reid. He has been my friend.

And it is he who gets you your warrant.

He who, therefore, knows the address at which to leave the evidence, evidence that he knew Captain Jackson would clasp tight to his heart.

And it is he who then says, yes! Use your fingerprints.

And yes! I will bar all newspaper reportings of the details.

Only he, Bennet.

Only Augustus Dove.

You ask me to admit his corruption.

I must therefore admit my own.

I see that. I see that, Bennet, I do.

But what purchase that support and advancement has given him here.

My purchase, you mean?

No...

My seduction?! No, Mr. Reid!

No, I do not mean to say...

Now, I may now need you here for this fight which comes down.

But you leave of Augustus Dove. You hear?

[Door opens and slams]

Augustus: Rose... Rose, it is only me.

Rose, forgive me.

Will you let me in?

Would you not come to curse me for my madness?

Why would I? I know you're sane.

Do you believe me?

I do, Rose.

Oh!

Why, that is a wonderful thing!

Thank you. Augustus, thank you.

Will you keep watch over us?

If Mr. Drake is not here to do so, then I shall.

The thought of you doing so, currently makes me happier.

However...

There was another fear that you spoke of earlier, on the subject of Miss Hart.

But also, Mr. Reid.

An act in which you believe them to have collaborated.

A bad thing.

A bad thing.

Not only those two, the captain also.

And Bennet.

What was it, Rose?

I made a promise.

I swore it, never ever to tell.

Then you must not, Rose.

Never break a promise.

You sent for me?

Quid pro quo.

[Train chugging]

[Suspenseful music]

Here we are.

Nate, in you go.

After you, Madam, Captain.

Here.

Hush now, children.

Captain...

Only the lock, correct? Correct?

Yes, correct.

Susan: Matthew, wait.

[Huge expl*si*n]

[Coughing]

Too much spice in your stew, Captain.

[Whistle blowing]

Nat...

No, no. Abel, I will not have more blood on my tally.

Not yours, my girl, mine. Mine can manage the extra.

You step aside. Get your crockery.

[Whistle blowing]

Man: Up here!

Where?

Here!

[Struggle]

Hey, ugh!

Ah, ah! Ah!

[Slashing]

For this?

Here.

Anything else you wish to pilfer? Or do we sail?

[Ominous music]