05x05 - A Last Good Act

[bunniefuu]

I was told that you were dead.

But he did not...

Yes, but I was told this.

I will talk to her, my word on it.

Prudence: I do not see an animal, Nathaniel.

Nathaniel: And what if we left this place? Robin, as well.

Robin Sumner, you trust me, don't you?

I'll see you safe.

Dove: You've been a very brave boy, Robin.

Jackson: Oh, that boy's dead.

Washed up like garbage in the mud of Goodluck Hope.

It's your piece of sh*t brother, k*lling on the count of your k*lling.

You goddamned animals.

[g*nshots]

Oh!

There is a candle, sir.

Shine: Ugh! Ugh!

[Bones cracking]

Reid: Argh! Argh! Argh!

Reid: Ugh!

Mathilda: Oh!

No!

Mathilda, we had to catch him!

[Muffled] Mr Reid, sir?

[Muffled] Mr Reid?

[Muffled] How was it you were taken?

[Muffled] They say it was as though you surrendered.

[Rapid heartbeating]

[Muffled] Why?

[Voice echoing] So to what end, hmm?

[Rapid heartbeating]

Thatcher: Did you and the captain find Robin's k*lled mother and uncle?

[Sighs]

On what rash instinct has he and Miss Susan now blasted their way in and out of Mr Dove's home?!

[Thatcher quietly pleading] Please.

All I hear is talk of men who know nought of the truth.

[Hushed] Please, Mr Reid... what must we do next?

Mr Reid?

Mr Reid?!

[Theme music]

Oh, Tilda.

[Sighs]

[Knocking]

[Dogs barking in distance]

Tilda?!

Please, I, only let me speak with you.

[Muffled] Tilda, please! We must talk. You must let me explain.

[Crying quietly]

[Drum, muffled] Tilda?!

Policeman: Come, Inspector. You're waited on.

[Sighs quietly]

[Sighs quietly]

[Police officers talking indistinctly in background]

Dove: This is your case, Inspector Drummond.

This may be Hackney, but this is a crime birthed in Whitechapel.

These felons will no doubt be hid there until their escape may be made.

And you, sir, and your men at H Division, you shall hunt, then trap them in Whitechapel, am I clear?

Yes, Mr Dove.

Now that they've got the boy, they must make their escape.

They must show themselves in so doing.

Therefore, you allow me more men, requisitioned from the J and the K.

See the docksides locked down, all in train stations...

She was mother to me when I had need of one.

They have stole my son.

So, yes, Inspector. You shall have all the men you require.

Only make the instruction.

Yes, sir.

And Mr Reid... now that Mr Shine's last actions have delivered him into your custody, does he speak?

He does not.

But never mind what Mr Shine did to him, it's... it's as if the marrow has been sucked from his bones.

Well, the betrayal he has suffered... perception of it, at least, that is, perhaps, understandable.

You have cleared the Leman Street cells for his safety, then?

I have.

Then perhaps I might interview him.

Oh, I should be grateful, sir.

Then let us to Leman Street. After you, Inspector.

Drum: Send for a photographer.

You will not let the mortuary even touch her until...

[Memory of Robin's muffled screaming]

[Paper rustling]

[Nathaniel sighing]

[Nathaniel sighs]

Thank you, Matthew.

Thank you.

I never knew...

[Clicks mouth]

What I mean to say is that... there is much, too much in this world, to turn a man towards contempt for all within, but...

I never knew what it would be to see the two of you together... and to know myself changed.

Now, Connor... you watch your father, but despite all, there isn't much to take example from... his courage... his courage and his love.

Now, there are fences yet to be leapt, but we're goin' home, son, to America.

And there, there are deep valleys, and there are rivers that are fresh with spring thaw.

Mm-hmm.

Fish within... catfish, perch, and great, big, fat trout that you can catch and eat and then do nothing but belch and feel the sun on our faces, maybe turn our minds towards making you a little sister.

I have a carriage ready.

My driver will take you as far as the Old North Road and then make his own way home.

Now, Connor, this is Miss Mimi, our true friend.

Well, how else am I to be rid of you?

[Susan chuckles]

The docks will be watched.

The boat trains for the northern and southern ports, likewise.

No, you'd only be apprehended, escape once again, return here, and I should never be able to open this playhouse to the paying public.

All right. Best we're about it then.

Ah-bah!

[Whispered] Okay.

You do not wish to hear news of the wider world of Whitechapel?

We do not.

And what news is that, Miss Mimi?

Jedediah Shine is dead.

Well, that's cause for celebration, then.

How so?

Uh, it is not said in detail... only that the capture of Mr Reid was his last living act.

It appears Mr Reid's daughter was turned to his betrayal.

One family reunited, another sundered.

Jackson: Hey, he knew the risk. I warned him, but he decided to go his own way, just as now, we're going to go ours.

Caitlin, you bring the boy. I'm going take the bags out to the carriage.

Caitlin, I said bring the boy.

Matthew, I have to.

I made the promise.

That betrayal, that sundering... they are down to me.

Goddammit, Caitlin... no.

But, does he not merit intervention?

Does she not deserve the truth?

And what about us, for Christ's sakes?

We have him. We have Connor. And now you're going to go saunter over and present yourself to the home address of Inspector Samuel Drummond?

Well... I do not suggest such a thing.

Then what?

We ask one more service of our host.

[Cell door clanging and creaks open]

Will you leave us a moment, Inspector Drummond?

Yes, sir.

[Footsteps receding]

[Door opening]

[Door closing]

All of London is a clamour, sir.

The capital's press is, therefore, to be gathered at Scotland Yard tomorrow morning, where I shall explain to them the ugly whys and wherefores of how it is the leading police of Whitechapel are either m*rder*d or murdering.

I'm sure you understand, therefore, [Chair scrapes on floor] the service we would render should you give full account of... all you know.

Your friends have k*lled once more.

More blood... the spattering of which lands on your shirt cuffs, Mr Reid, for... you know where they might be found and will not say.

Will you now tell me?

[Faint drum b*at]

And be aware, I do not offer you terms.

You are wiser than to think your many articles of disgrace might be tried for one act of confession. No, you speak... because you understand this mayhem must come to an end.

You do it because you believe in a resolution... a last good act for Edmund Reid.

It will not erase the stain of your works, sir, but it will return a measure of order to the community you have purported to serve... and some peace to the shattered soul of your daughter.

[Hushed] I could hear Bennet Drake as he d*ed.

I heard what it was he said to your brother before your brother took his throat out.

[Faint drum b*at]

Bennet said that to see him was only looking in a mirror... and now, you and I, here, facing reflections of our own.

Now, I know you sincere, Mr Dove... sincere in your hope that the world will be righted and renewed, the pitiless murk of the past be obliterated and forgot.

It is an ambition I much nurtured myself.

Indeed, I would dispute with all who would insist that such an ambition was hopeless.

This journey here, ours, began with a man named Isaac Bloom.

You recall the name.

Isaac was a mathematician.

He believed that numbers betrayed the true nature of our universe, and accordingly, it was empirically proved that the entropy of the universe extended to a maximum, that everything moved irretrievably from order into chaos.

You do not believe that, do you?

I cannot.

I said the same because what hope for Whitechapel if he were right?

You wish for a confession of truth from me?

I do.

Well, this is it.

Isaac Bloom was correct in all that he said.

You forget your hopes, sir, because this Whitechapel is coming for you.

It will take the purest of them, and it will shatter it into shards of pure poison.

Now, one last good act, you say?

Then I choose the simplest...

I will not betray my friends.

He will not speak, but we must proceed, regardless.

The man he is, his position in your own private life, it is no easy thing, I know... but, you seem him charged, Inspector.

I shall, Mr Dove.

Aye, but you are upright, the pair of ya.

Careful, Frank.

What is it scares you, Drum?

That, just as the sanctified Miss Mathilda Reid has done, we, too, might find cause to wallop yer in full view of the world?

Are you about your work, Desk Sergeant?

Have you wired the J and K about them extra boots?

Do they, even now, read their instructions as to how each and every means of departure from this town is to be barricaded?!

No? Then see it done!

And when you have, you may come and witness Mr Reid's charge sheet, hear his offences for yourself.

Please confirm your name.

Edmund John James Reid.

Address?

14 Fairclough Street, Whitechapel.

Occupation?

Police officer.

Drummond, what I asked of you earlier, you told Mathilda... that I understand, that I understood?

[Knocking and door opening]

Please, will you tell her?

Please, say that you'll tell her.

[Drum clears his throat]

Charge sheet against Reid, Edmund John James.

Witness, Sergeant Francis Thatcher.

Her Majesty's Metropolitan Police do charge you with the following crimes... the unlawful m*rder with malice aforethought of Theodore Swift, the unlawful m*rder of Horace Buckley...

Drummond?

.. aiding and abetting the unlawful m*rder of Frank Goodnight... resisting arrest...

Drummond? Please, Mathilda must conspiracy to defeat justice... being know. Please, Mathilda an accessory after the fact to the must know. She must not suffer felony of permitting Miss Susan Hart any further distress. and Captain Homer Jackson to regain their liberty whilst having the prisoners in your lawful custody.

It is only a message, why will you...

You will sign here, Mr Reid... and then you, Frank. why will you not undertake...

He cannot undertake to do that, Mr Reid, because Miss Matilda put 'im out on the streets and won't speak to 'im.

Is this true, Drummond?

Please, sir, sign.

Reid: Tell me.

Sergeant Thatcher, sign.

Samuel Drummond... was it you who lit the candle at Mathilda's window?

Sign for your inspector, Sergeant.

Thatcher: But Mr Reid...

Reid: Sign, Thatcher.

Sergeant Thatcher, earlier, you were inquiring after the Sumner family.

Uh, yes, Mr Reid.

Perhaps one and a half kilometres upstream from the Limehouse Cut there is a series of heavy meanders through Bow Creek, and on the eastern bank there is a copse of black poplars at Goodluck Hope.

Amongst you will find a mound of earth marked with a prow of driftwood.

And within that grave, you will find the m*rder*d body of Robin Sumner.

[Hushed] How?

Who?

Who?

Commissioner Dove, I believe.

[Thatcher sighs exasperatedly]

And now he's fixing Drum, up there with his vanity and his ambition.

He may as well have the little boy's blood on his hands, as well.

Oh, he shall hear what he's done.

No, no, no. Samuel Drummond...

He's...

Samuel Drummond is innocent of all and must remain so.

Sir, the candle, Miss Mathilda... how can you defend...

He was trying, for the love of her, I am certain of it.

[Thatcher scoffs]

After all the bickering and the petty jostlings with the man undone, are you not similarly convinced his heart is a true one?

Whichever, Sergeant, it serves no purpose to ruin his sense of the world, not yet, at any rate.

Well then, I ask you again, sir... what must we do now?

Not we, Francis Thatcher... you.

[Train whistle sounds in distance]

[Market hubbub]

[Train whistle sounds again]

You are Miss Mathilda Reid.

Yes. Who are you?

This is my theatre, Miss Reid.

Means a great deal to me, so, I do hope that you can be trusted.

[Footsteps approach]

Hello, Mathilda.

Why am I brought here?

'Cause she asks, and she has a way of getting what she asks for.

You bank a great deal on my discretion, Miss Susan.

I hope you will consider it a risk worth taking.

And what is it that I may do for you?

Relieve me of a secret, I hope.

How may I do that?

Allow me to tell it to you.

For I've kept it long, and it is, to me, a poison.

[Footsteps approach]

Hello, Connor.

My son knows a friend when he sees one.

Uh, may I fetch you some tea, Miss Reid?

Thank you, Captain Jackson.

We heard the news of your father.

He was hid here with us until... well, you called to him.

And which father can resist the call of his child?

But I did not call to him, did not send him out to go beneath Mr Shine's fists.

I would not. I could not.

I believe it, Mathilda.

You love him.

I do.

[Mathilda sighs quietly]

Ah, and yet...

The things he has done?

May I tell you about my father?

[Susan speaking indistinctly and muffled]

Are you feelin' all right?

Oh. Um, a little flu.

[Susan continues indistinctly and muffled]

What he suffered, and for all its horror, I wished for Mr Reid to lock the grill and leave my father there.

I longed for it again and again and again.

[Sighing] And I do not feel regret.

Forgive me, Miss Susan, but your father's fate, my own's involvement in that... it does not, those actions which brought me to despair...

I know, Matilda.

But Mr Buckley, what he did to Mr Buckley...

Mathilda, this... this is why I bring you here, to ask that you... whenever, down the years, you bring to mind the picture of what befell Mr Buckley in that cellar... you no more imagine Mr Reid with that man's head between his fists... but myself.

Now, it would take you another lifetime to understand what would have made me do... do such a thing, but at the time, I believed your father perhaps as vicious as your... your worst dreams may suggest.

I was in this, as perhaps you are now... misguided, and... [Crying quietly] .. to my... [Sniffles] .. to my shame... my life... my lifelong shame...

I saw a way by which all that I had made for myself, all that your father, in his righteousness, would set himself upon taking from me... as were means to protect it, and that means was a lie.

In the days after you were found, taken into my care, oh, your mind fevered, wondering, the damaged spirit child that Mr Buckley had made you believe that you were... your father, Mr Reid, came looking for you, and I told him you were dead.

[Susan sobs quietly]

And worse, Matilda... [Sniffles] for all Mr Buckley's gentleness to you, I described a vision of horror to your father, that you had been chained and starved and... and violated all those years that you'd been gone from him.

So, yes, he took Horace Buckley's life, but with my hands, Mathilda... my hands... my hands... just... as though he were my puppet.

It's true, Miss Reid, all of it.

Yet, you love her still.

[Clicks mouth] It can be regrettable, but you do not pick who you love.

And... and so you bring me here, now, to tell me this because you have your son, are leaving, and wish to unburden yourself before you do?

Forgive me but, as ever, I feel you serve no one's ends but your own.

Think on it... as my father is dragged pitilessly to his justice while you escape yours.

Jackson: God damn it!

You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could ya?

Of all the women in the world to have an att*ck of conscience! Jesus Christ!

And don't you be pointing those teary eyes in my direction, either, Miss Reid.

She and your father sh*t-kicked chaos through their lives.

I've been caught in that carnage as deep as any soul alive.

And now...

God damn it...

[Sighs deeply]

I mean, what did he ever do for me, huh?

Hauled his flappin' arse out of more scrapes than I care to think of, and now... [Sighs]

Now what, Captain?

[Sighs deeply]

I have a g*dd*mn plan, that's what.

I've seen 'im, Sarge.

[Clicks mouth] Evening, boys. Took your sweet time.

[Sniffs] Think it's gonna take six of yer, do ya?

[Sighing] Well, perhaps it might, if you were men, not cowards and eunuchs.

Come on, darlings.

Argh!

[Sounds of struggle and b*ating]

Where's Sergeant Thatcher?

Dunno, sir.

Well, somebody bloody find him!

Policeman: Stop it! Stop that! Now, stay down!

Jackson: Ugh!

Policeman: Stay down!

Ah, Drummond, the fairy queen himself.

Whatever it is you have in mind, do not take me for a fool.

Has he been searched?

Strip him.

[Jackson scoffs]

Do it!

[Footsteps approaching]

[Jackson sighs]

Inspector, sir.

What?

You're called for.

I'm occupied.

Take a note or send them away.

It is Miss Reid, sir.

Lock Captain Jackson down.

Two men on the outer door, also!

What is it you do, Captain?

An att*ck of conscience, Reid.

You can save your gratitude for later.

And why am I grateful that you, too, are now incarcerated?

Why do you think?

[Hushed] Not that you deserve it, but we're going to break you out of here.

We?

Tilda.

Tilda... will you come upstairs so we may talk?

In due course, perhaps.

For now, I would see my father.

Drum, you may take a moment to consider the consequences of denying me this, but do not take any longer.

Thank you, Drum. As I said, alone.

I shall wait beyond.

Hammer on the door when you are done, Tilda.

Father... are you hurt?

Darling girl.

What that man did to you...

Hush, Mathilda, I shall live.

My candle... it was not myself to have lit it.

I know. I know, Mathilda.

But how?

Mr Drummond is not a man much able to disguise his shame.

He told you?

Not as such, but he bears it hard, my darling.

Hey, my heart bleeds for him, really, but, Miss Reid, do you think it's about time we got about our chief purpose?

No. No, no.

I am not for the freeing, Mathilda.

Excuse me?

No more running. No more. No more.

All that I have done, all the horrors that you have felt at your father's actions... they are not misplaced.

But Miss Susan, she explained all to me.

No. No, not all.

The man, Buckley, perhaps.

Her father, Theodore Swift... I could never regret that, but... think on your Uncle Bennet and all I brought him to.

Mathilda, an accounting must be made.

And now you're happy to let me hang alongside you when I bust my arse in here to free yer.

Yes.

On that matter, it is my own strategy, Captain, that I very much hope it shan't come to that.

And that strategy being what?

Francis Thatcher is going to exhume the body of Robin Sumner.

[Click mouth] I thought you said you left that boy to rest.

He rests, Augustus Dove prevails.

Now, he may rest in due course again, but... it is that boy who will give his own tragedy... his family's here, Bennet Drake's, Isaac Bloom's... it is that boy who will hand them their justice, even if I have handed mine alongside.

And how's the boy to do that, Reid?

That boy cannot speak.

The dead can always speak, Captain, when you are there to aid them.

And, uh, if I hadn't, in all lunacy, set about your freein'?

You've always been there when I needed you.

Why should today be any different?

Miss Reid...

Yes, Captain?

.. will you hand me my p*stol, please?

Mathilda: But why?

'Cause I'm gonna sh**t your father with it.

[Birds twittering]

My apologies, brother.

I have left you alone too long.

[Nathaniel sighs quietly]

I thought we might eat together.

[Nathaniel sighs quietly]

Soup.

Last night, as we came under att*ck, you broke down your door.

I did?

You did this so you might assist my people.

I heard the pup calling.

And yet, you did not protect him.

Well, the Captain, he... he had a p*stol.

And besides...

Besides what, brother?

Miss Susan is his mother.

She is a m*rder*r, Nathaniel.

So I am, Gustus.

Do you recall the boy, Robin Sumner?

Of course.

Miss Susan told me he is, in fact, not safe... that he is dead.

[Dove sighs quietly]

And she knows this how?

Captain found him in water, um... at Goodluck Hope.

[Faint drum beats]

How dead, did these most valued witnesses say?

k*lled...

[Faint drum beats]

.. by you, they believe.

And what do you believe, Nathaniel?

[Faint drum beats]

You have known me your entire life.

Do you truly believe I could do that to a pup?

A pup?

No.

Now, we are almost home.

Edmund Reid lies in the cell at Leman Street, his spirit broken.

The woman, Hart, and her American must now escape with their child and will surely be taken in so doing.

It will be Christmas before we know it.

We shall fill the house with food and gifts and friends and give thanks for the future ahead of us.

Eat.

[Squelching underfoot]

[Sighs]

Right.

[Sighs]

[Pencil marking paper]

[Exhales sharply]

[Breathing heavily]

[Gate creaks open and closed]

[Birds calling]

[Sighs]

I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

[Breathing heavily]

Oh, no.

[Panting]

[Sobbing quietly]

[Sobbing]

Oh, Robin.

[Crying]

How did you know where to find him, Sergeant?

Mr Reid told me where.

And what will you do with him now?

Get him his retribution.

An admirable instinct, Mr Thatcher, a policeman's instinct.

[g*n sh*t]

Oh! Argh!

[Gasps]

[Groaning]

You have saved me a great deal of trouble.

I should have been here all night, otherwise.

[Thatcher gasping and groaning]

[Gasping and panting]

[River trickling]

[Thatcher continues gasping]

It is a faster current here, and the course runs direct.

Do you see... the pilot lights at Limehouse Cut...

[Thatcher gasping]

.. the Thames running on a Spring tide, and beyond, the ocean?

As you sought to show Robin Sumner his path in life, you will lead him on in death now.

Oh!

Ah!

[Birds calling]

[Frogs croaking]

[Squelching underfoot]

[Sloshing]

[Lantern clattering]

Ugh!

[Sloshing]

Uh!

[Breathing heavily]

Ugh!

Uh-ugh!

[Struggling and groaning]

[Squelching]

[Groaning]

Uh!

Ugh!

[Panting]

Uh!

[Squelching]

Ugh!

[Exhaling sharply]

[Panting]

[Exhales quietly]

[Birds calling]

[Frogs croaking]

[Splashing]

Argh!

[Groaning]

[Squelching]

Argh!

Oh, oh, ah.

[Groaning, panting and exhaling wheezily]

[Chuckling]

[Sighs]

[Laughing loudly]

[Breathing slowly and deeply]

[Birds calling and frogs croaking]

[Splashing]

[Groaning quietly]

[Exhales]

[Sighs deeply]

Oh, there you go.

[Slow pacing]

Whichever road Thatcher took, he's late.

He is way, way late.

[Stomps]

[Reid sighs deeply]

Yeah, they're waiting for me, you know... my wife, my boy. For you, too, if you need a ride.

[Hushed] We have the g*ns. We have the dynamite, Reid.

We might just go.

[Whispered] You might?

You ought.

Whatever has happened, whatever is coming, I cannot explain it, but I... I must be here to see it.

But I am in earnest, Captain... you go... go. Go now.

What, and let you martyr yourself all alone?

[Exhaling quietly and slowly]

[Drum b*at]

Nathaniel?! Nathaniel?!

[Knocking]

Mr Dove, sir, your carriage is here.

[Pocket watch opens]

[Pocket watch closes]

[Bell tolls]

[Bell tolling]

[Indistinct hubbub]

Order! Order!

_

God damn you, silence!

[Woman clears her throat]

So that the newspapermen of London may be furnished with the truth, Assistant Commissioner Dove will now elaborate.

Thank you, Commissioner.

[Camera flash cracks]

It is with regret I must announce the death of Inspector, First Class, Jedediah Shine of H Division, Whitechapel.

[Indistinct commotion]

Please!

Mr Shine was as fine and resourceful a policeman as any this force has known.

He will be mourned accordingly.

I need hardly mention how hard this goes on the morale of our men, who only so recently lost Inspector Bennet Drake of the same division.

Is there any connection between...

Are... are... are the people safe?

[All questioning at once]

Inspector Shine's last action was to secure the arrest of Edmund Reid.

And whilst... and whilst I know that man's reputation was hard won, I hope that you will take in good faith the charges which the men of H Division will soon be presenting against their one-time station chief.

Charges? How does this reflect on the force as a whole?

Let me say only this...

For God's sake!

.. none of the speculation carried in your pages is far from the truth of the matter, and should the courts, as I expect them to do, find Edmund Reid guilty, no matter his years of service, we will be urging for the most severe of penalties under the law.

[Indistinct commotion]

Miss Castello: Commissioner Bradford, can this, indeed, be true?

You would send one of your own to the rope?

We would, Miss Castello, with ever greater conviction, given the violent, headstrong hypocrisy he has sanctioned and performed in our name.

[Indistinct shouting]

[Rachel gasps]

You are Castello?

Good day, Mr Abberline.

Come away, miss.

You heard?

I did.

Then you understand why I wired you.

I hoped you might be prised from your retirement.

Ed Reid is to be hanged.

That hero, old smooth-faced, back there, that is the Mr Dove you wrote of.

I fear he now has the wherewithal to prevail.

There are none left to challenge him.

There is you, miss.

But all I had accumulated of his story... the m*rder*d Rabbi Ratovski's own written account...

I believe...

Mr Shine destroyed it.

Then best we put it together again.

Where is Francis Thatcher?

Gone, as you ask. No man knows where.

Not returned?

Mathilda, why does the whereabouts of Frank Thatcher worry you so?

I'm not sure I want to tell you, Drum.

After all, I know what it is you do with the secrets I give you.

[Swallows]

I would take it back if I could.

I'm sure.

But not for him.

All them things Mr Reid is said to have done, he done.

I know.

So he must face his punishment.

I understand, Drum.

I did it for you, Tilda, because I wanted...

I still only want for you and I be able to... walk clean of this mess.

For you, for once, to be able to stand atop the building of your life and look outward from it, not forever be casting your gaze back inside for the fear it might catch fire again.

And he is the building, you feel.

Well, when is he not?

[Horse snorting]

[Door bursts open]

Yard, son. Pipe down!

Where's your chief?

Mr Abberline.

Mathilda Reid.

Mr Abberline, on another occasion, the men of H Division will gladly welcome you, but... as you might have heard, we are sorely pressed at the present moment.

Who... this?

This is Inspector Drummond.

This is him?

The milksop with whom you bring yourself into shame and disrepute?

Mathilda, really?

Looks like he might battle to blow the head off a pint of mild.

Nonetheless, sir, this is my command, and I'd ask you why you've brung yourself here, today of all days.

[Inhales deeply]

I would see my friend before you and your master have his neck choked at Newgate.

Tilda, it is not I that will pass that sentence on him, as you know, nor Mr Dove.

He agitates for it, however.

Drum, please allow it.

I will not. It is prohibited.

What is it you do, Drum?

What else? Alert Mr Dove to this man's presence.

You do it, sonny. I should be glad to know him.

[Door opens]

[Door closes]

[Footsteps approach]

Hmm.

Hello?

Susan?

Captain?

[Mimi Gasps]

Who are you?

Wait, wait!

Ugh!

Wait!

Shhh. Shut up!

Ah! Help!

Ah, uh!

[Nathaniel struggling]

Nathaniel: Gah! Be quiet.

Uh!

Nathaniel: Be quiet!

Nathaniel!

Nathaniel, you leave her be!

Will you... will you take Connor?

And leave you here?

He is a friend.

Trust me.

You brought him here, why?

Miss Susan, you told me, and I had to ask him because he... he is my brother.

Augustus, he swore... nah, he hadn't.

And I could not believe this of him.

But I watched, and I followed him.

And I saw him.

He put a b*llet in that copper, Thatcher.

Susan: Thatcher's dead?

Yes.

He put 'em both in the river.

But I swum out, and I brought Robin back.

[Susan sighs]

Oh, why did you bring him to me?

I've no one else to go to, and I feel as... as though something should be done.

And Robin should be shown to someone as proof.

Augustus must be punished?

Yeah.

Why?

Because he has k*lled.

So have you, Nathaniel.

But not a pup.

Never a pup.

k*lling is k*lling.

And if... if Augustus must be punished, then you must.

All who k*ll must be punished.

Nathaniel: I'm frightened, Miss Susan.

[Crying] I'm fierce frightened.

Perhaps...

[Both sniffle]

Perhaps, I ought to go with you.

Driver: Whoa.

Thank you.

Thank you, sir.

[Horse snorts]

Driver: Walk on.

[Horse snorting]

[Heartbeats intensifying then waning]

Miss Reid.

You did right to send for me, Inspector.

Is this him, then? Is it?

Mr Abberline... on another occasion, I should be grateful to meet you and account for actions we here have taken, which I understand must surely fill you with horror.

But our force, we comrades, cannot be seen to fight among ourselves.

My, but you are silky and oiled, boy.

However, I'm not in your force no more.

And even were I still, I would not call you my brother man.

Then, sir, I think Inspector Drummond must have his men escort you from these premises. Mr Drummond?

You men, with me.

Nathaniel: Gustus?!

Good afternoon, Mr Dove.

Inspector Drummond, my name is Caitlin Swift, and I wish to surrender myself to the police.

[Crowd becoming agitated]

My name is Nathaniel Croker, and I, too, wish to surrender myself to the police.

For what crime?

Sorry, Gustus.

[Quietly] I do not know you, sir.

Which crime?

m*rder.

Drum: Whose?

Leon Ratovski.

Rabbi Leon Ratovski, other men... whose names I did not know, and Mr Drake.

He known to you, is he Mr Dove?

He familiar?

I do not know this man.

We must take this off the street, Mr Dove.

Get 'em in.

Men!

Get 'em in, all of 'em!

Now!

Tilda, what is it? What do you do?

Father, I think you must come.

Just follow procedures, Mr Drummond.

All confessions to be writ, signed, and witnessed.

Yes, sir.

Renshaw?!

Yes, sir.

Nathaniel: You keep away! Right.

You keep away.

Nathaniel... allow it.

They must see him.

Who is this boy?

Gustus... please.

You know.

Reid: Yes, Mr Dove, you know.

[Cocks g*n]

I'll k*ll ya, you son of a bitch.

He is not worth the blood.

You taught him that he was the beast, did you not?

And that make you more able to suppress and disguise your own monstrosity.

Take control of your station house, Inspector!

Barely have I known you 10 minutes, boy, and already the sound of your voice makes me want to sh*t!

[Dove's body thuds to floor]

Edmund.

Fred.

Samuel Drummond, you see?

Your station house has been overtaken by its prisoners.

You not to blame.

You were overwhelmed, at gunpoint.

And your captors then locked down the station house around you.

Ugh!

Caitlin, what is it you do, darlin'?

Something good, I hope.

[Crowd yelling indistinctly]