16x12 - Porcelain Maiden

[bunniefuu]

(THEME MUSIC)

(♪)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(WHISTLING)

Ah! What the hell?!

- (MAN): Where is it, Rankins?
- Where's what?

The parcel! Where is it?

I don't know what you're talking about!

Give us the parcel, Rankins.

You've got the wrong
guy! I am not Rankins.

Should I cut him, Johnny?

What are you telling him my name for?

Oh, I'm not.

- I'm gonna cut him.
- No, don't cut me!

(JOHNNY): Then give us the parcel.

I don't have the parcel!

Should I cut him? I'll cut him.

(JOHNNY): Get us the
parcel by noon tomorrow.

Else otherwise.

Fine! Fine. Yes. Good.

Tomorrow noon. The alley
behind the old Gopnik Shipyard.

If we don't get the parcel,

we will spend every moment of every day

for the rest of our lives

hunting you down until you're dead.

Let's go.

(MAN): You should've let me cut him!

(JOHNNY): Why do you
always want to cut people?

What?

Watts.

- Henry?
- (MAN): Who is it?

- What are you doing here?
- I need your help.

I've done a very bad thing.

(BABY COOING)

- (MURDOCH): Ah, perfect.
- (JULIA): William?

- What're you doing?
- Ah, Julia!

I believe I've solved our problem.

Oh, what problem?

Yesterday at the park I
turned my back on Susannah

for the briefest of moments.

She crawled away

and was nearly struck
by a boy on a tricycle!

(SIGHS)

In the blink of an eye
anything could happen.

So, I have invented

the all-purpose baby tether.

It's a leash.

It's a tether for her safety.

You see, even here at
home it could keep her

from reaching the stove, or...
or something in my workshop.

William, it's a leash.

We need to allow her
to practise her crawling

without putting herself in harm's way.

Hence, the tether.

Leash.

I'm off to work.

I'll see you at dinnertime.

For heaven's sake!

Come here. Oh!

I have an idea.

Let's do something dangerous.

(CHUCKLES)

Where is everyone, Murdoch?

Well, George is still on his honeymoon.

Henry called in sick

and Evans and Langston are
taking care of a traffic block.

A horse has sat on an automobile.

Oh. Well, let's hope something
doesn't fall in your lap

or you'll be stuck with me.

(PHONE RINGING)

Detective Murdoch.

I take it we'll be
spending the day together.

Yes, yes, of course.

I'll be right there.

A few months ago I started using
my auto to deliver packages.

You're a courier?

Yes. But...

my telephone number ended
up in the hands of some...

unsavoury people.

They offered to pay me double my fee.

The implication was that I
wouldn't ask any questions.

So, these people were likely criminals

and the packages likely
contained illicit goods.

What's the difference?

So I didn't look inside their packages.

I don't look inside anyone
else's packages, either.

Plausible deniability may
help you sleep better at night,

but it is hardly a
substitute for morality.

The point is these are dangerous men!

And they're after me.

So, inform the inspector.

The inspector swore he'd
fire me if he ever caught me

working a second job again.

I would be more concerned
about being arrested

for criminal conspiracy.

That's why I need your
help to get it back.

- Get what back?
- The parcel.

See, a couple of nights
ago, I got a call.

I went to pick up a delivery
from a man named Rankins.

He didn't give me a name.

Just an address on Tyndall Avenue.

When I got there, someone
was being arrested.

(WATTS): Who was it?

(HIGGINS): The man I was
delivering the parcel to.

- It had to be.
- (WATTS): And did you stop?

I didn't want to get mixed
up in whatever was going on.

So I went back to the corner
where I picked up the parcel,

but there was no sign of Rankins.

I looked him up in the
city directory, but no luck.

So I went home.

And where's the parcel?

(SIGHS)

I was about to throw it out. But...

Well, someone was paying me
a good fee to deliver it,

so it had to be valuable.

I figured, as long as I'm
going to toss it out, anyways,

why not take it to a pawn shop?

(SCOFFS)

Severing once and for all
your thin tether to morality.

I didn't set out to do
anything wrong. I just...

did whatever seemed
all right in the moment.

Oof.

So, these two men, one with a Kn*fe,

- are seeking a statuette of a horse.
- Yes.

So take your pawn ticket
back to the pawn shop.

I didn't pawn it. I sold it.

And I only got two dollars
for it, but now it's gone.

And that old pawnbroker won't
tell me who he sold it to.

I need your help, Watts.

We have to find that horse.

I left the constabulary, Henry.

- I'm no longer an investigator.
- Watts! I...

Watts, if I don't find that statuette,

they'll k*ll me.

Please, I need your help.

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

(MURDOCH): A single g*nsh*t
wound at close range.

No identification.

But there's this.

What's in it?

- Looks to be five crisp $ bills.
- Crikey.

So, this fella's walking around
with a small fortune on him,

someone gets wind of
it and tries to rob him.

They have an altercation;
he ends up dead.

But they didn't take the money.

You can't exactly spend a bill with
a b*llet hole through it, Murdoch.

Unlucky sh*t.

For the both of them.

(WHISTLING)

Sign says back in five minutes.

Stop that.

Stop what?

That whistling. It's annoying.

I didn't realize I was.

That melody's been
stuck in my ear all week.

(HIGGINS): There he is.

Right.

- (CLEARS THROAT)
- Wait!

What are you... What
are you going to do?

I'll tell him I'm a
detective and the statuette

was left behind at
the scene of a robbery.

He, ergo, is a suspect.

That's good.

That's good.

(CITY HUBBUB)

Go ahead.

(WATTS): So, suspicion falls to you...

unless you are able to
exonerate yourself by telling me

who else may have been in
possession of said statuette.

You know, I'll bet you
dollars to doughnuts

it was that pie-faced Charlie
who was in here just this morning.

This man purchased the statuette?

No, no, no. He's the
one who sold it to me.

Then he came back later looking for it.

Real daft type.

It's gotta be him. I mean,
the woman who bought it,

- she wouldn't be involved in a crime.
- A woman?

A witness saw a woman near
the scene of the crime.

Describe her for me.

Classy, all over.

There's a fat chance she
did anything criminal.

Nevertheless, describe her.

Due diligence et cetera.

Listen, pally. It ain't her.

I mean, here: she even paid
me with this fancy cheque.

She's not the criminal type.

If I could have a look at that.

What'd you say your name was?

- Detective Millshh...
- What?

If I could take just a quick look.

Okay, pal, let me see your badge.

- How much for this?
- What? Wh...

Hey! Wait, wait! Come back here! Wait!

- How did it go...
- Run! Run, run, run, run!

Hey! Hey, wait! Come
back here, you miserab...

Lady, watch where you're going!

- (SUSANNAH GIGGLING)
- Having fun, Susannah?

I told you it would be dangerous!

- (GRUNTING)
- This way!

Curses!

Oh! Good God, I'm a criminal.

I can't believe I did that.

Ah, pencil. (GRUNTS)

- (SIGHS)
- Here.

Give me that.

Look! It's for $ ! I
knew he ripped me off!

That hardly matters at this juncture.

We now know the buyer is "B. Vermont"

and we have an address in Rosedale.

Let's go. My auto's
just around the corner.

- A moment.
- What are you doing?

Righting a wrong.

Oh, for Pete's sake!

Sending this back to the pawn shop.

Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Vermont.

What can I do for you, gentlemen?

We are private investigators
with the Pinkerton Agency.

Our client has hired
us to locate an item,

a golden statuette of a horse.

We understand you may have purchased it?

Yes, that's right.

Our client seeks its return.
He sold it accidentally.

For a pittance.

(WATTS): It holds
great sentimental value.

Well, I'm afraid it
holds the same for me.

You see, my late
husband kept racehorses.

The statuette reminded me
of his favourite maiden.

To me, it is priceless.

I shall keep it on the
mantel in Benjamin's study

until the day I die.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a funeral to plan.

Of course. Thank you for your time.

- One, pl...
- No!

She has it. Let's go get it back.

I recognized her husband.

The man in the oil painting.

His surname somehow eluded me,

but he's been in the papers every day.

- Here, look.
- "Arrest made in Vermont m*rder."

It says the culprit is Nathan Fine

of Tyndall Avenue in Parkdale.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

That's where I was making the delivery.

This guy must have sent
those men after the horse.

The article describes
him as a bookmaker and...

violent criminal.

And this violent criminal's
friends are going to k*ll me!

Watts, we have to
break into that mansion

and steal back that statuette.

I will be doing no such thing.

We've already been lying.

If we're only breaking the
law to do something good,

namely, saving my life!

Then, isn't that kind of better?

You know, overall?

Sometimes the greater
of two evils is inaction

but, in this instance,
my boundary is firm.

Plus, it remains unclear what Mrs.
Vermont's interest is in all this.

Then I'll do it myself.

There's no talking you out of it?

- No.
- Right.

I noticed the house
was not in model repair.

The gate at the end
of the hedge was ajar

and one of the windows in the
parlour has a broken latch.

So?

I'll draw you a diagram.

(HART): Single g*nsh*t
wound, close range.

(MURDOCH): Any signs of a
struggle? Any other injuries?

- No.
- Nothing unusual at all, then?

Um, just this.

His fingers.

Discoloured.

(MURDOCH): Dark spots.

I believe I've seen this before.

This is the result of
contact with silver nitrate.

Silver nitrate. What's that?

It's a chemical commonly
found in darkrooms.

Ah.

This man was a photographer.

(GRUNTING)

Whoa!

(THUDDING)

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

(WHISPERING): Fireplace.

(CHUCKLES)

(MRS. VERMONT): Mr. Holly,
have you seen my eyeglasses?

(MR. HOLLY): I'll check the parlour.

(MRS. VERMONT): I've got... Never mind.

They're on the chain around my neck.

(SIGHS IN RELIEF)

(♪)

Oh, I'm a dead man.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

I'm a dead man!

I question the wisdom of you taking it.

Its absence might be noticed.

I was hoping I could glue
the pieces back together.

The men awaiting its
return may notice that.

- (SIGHS)
- They said they would hunt me until I was dead.

I can't die.

If I die, then what?

That is humanity's ultimate
question, is it not?

But while you ponder that, have
you noticed the man behind us?

- What man?
- Don't look.

He's been following us.

- Are you sure?
- No.

But certainty is a rare thing. This way.

Keep moving.

We'll go to Queen and get on a
streetcar to see if he follows.

Watts! Watts!

Look! That store window.

Come on.

It's a miracle.

(SIGHS)

Henry, I'm not sure this is
the cure-all you think it is.

They're identical. Those men
will never know the difference.

If the statuette is worth six cents,

why did someone pay you a healthy fee

to deliver it to a career
criminal under cover of darkness?

I don't know.

Clearly the statuette itself
is not what those men are after.

They asked for the parcel.
I'll give them the parcel.

Problem solved.

(SHATTERING)

Where's the key, Rankins?

What key? You wanted
the parcel, this is it.

Enough.

- Cut him.
- I don't have any key!

- I'm not Rankins!
- Say one more thing we don't wanna hear, Rankins.

Just one more.

- Should I really cut him?
- Yes.

Then, the whole neck,
or just a little cut?

He doesn't have it. Gut him!

Wait! Wait! I have it! I have the key.

Well, then hand it over!

Or else you're a dead man.

I'm not a dead man.

I'm Rankins.

And I'm your only hope!

Do you really think Mr. Fine
will be happy when you tell him

that I'm dead and the
key is lost forever?

Who said we work for Fine?

If you want the key, you pay double!

You meet me back here
at p.m. with the money,

or the key goes into Lake Ontario.

Ha.

Are you mad? You only
gave yourself six hours?

Well, it had to be believable.

We don't even know what the key is for,

to say nothing of where it is.

Uh, we know exactly where it is.

Mrs. Vermont broke the statuette.

Obviously, the key was inside.

And since Mrs. Vermont
had the original figurine,

she must have the key.

Your logic is flawless, Henry.

I apologise if my tone
is one of surprise,

- but it reflects my feelings.
- Don't look!

- The man is back.
- Where?

(WATTS): I said don't look.

(HIGGINS): I need to
know where not to look!

Behind you. And now you can
look; he's coming right for us.

What?

Gentlemen, I beg your pardon.

My name is Mr. Holly. I'm here
to extend you an invitation.

To what?

To a meeting with my
employer, Mrs. Vermont.

(CITY HUBBUB)

(BRACKENREID): They're closed.

(MURDOCH): They usually open at noon.

Ah, Detective.

Sorry I'm late. I
think I have everything.

Oh. Very well.

Would you like to come in?

That won't be necessary.

Is something the matter?

We need to know if
you recognize this man.

Oh, heavenly Jesus and his apostles.

(RETCHING)

(GROANS)

Uh, sorry.

Never seen a dead man before.

Right. Sorry about that.

That's Mr. Cone.

Whatever's happened to him?

Perhaps we'll spare you the details.

Yes, quite right.

What can you tell us about him?

He was a regular customer.

A real enthusiast.

He always developed his own photographs.

Up to something illicit?
Peeping Tom maybe?

Perhaps, sir.

Can you tell us anything else about him?

He lived in that building on
Duchess and Beverley, I believe.

Right.

Thank you very much.

But...

I apologize if Mr. Holly was
brusque with you gentlemen,

but it was important that
I speak to you immediately.

I'm afraid I wasn't entirely
honest with you earlier.

The statuette you inquired
about meant nothing to me.

You only wanted what was inside.

You are clever.

So I ask you: have you found
what you're looking for?

You have what we're looking for.

I'm afraid I do not.

- Shall we speak plainly, gentlemen?
- Yes, please.

The key was not in the maiden.

Then where is it?

I was hoping that you could tell me!

You see, should you find it,

I would very much like the
opportunity to purchase it.

Our client is highly
motivated to see its return.

And has your client told
you what that key is for?

(SCOFFS)

No.

As you may be aware,
my husband was m*rder*d.

A few days ago I received
an anonymous telephone call,

a man selling evidence that
would convict his k*ller.

The key is to a locker
in Parkdale Station

which contains that evidence.

They already arrested
someone, a Mr. Fine.

The police are going to release
him by the end of the day.

Mr. Fine, he wants that
evidence so he can eliminate it.

He k*lled my Benny!

And... and now nothing
is going to happen to him.

(SOBBING)

Ah, thank you.

Mr. Fine is who hired
you, is that right?

Our client is someone who
is caught in the middle.

Well, whoever you work for,

please do not give that
evidence to Mr. Fine.

(SIGHS)

Consider this a retainer
for your services.

Regardless, you can keep it.

But if you bring me that
key, I will see to it

that you are paid twice
what anyone else is offering.

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

We're no closer to finding the
key, but this changes our aim.

We can't deliver the
key to Mr. Fine's men.

- Why not?
- Because he will destroy the evidence and go free.

- So?
- That is an affront to justice.

As soon as we find that key
I'm giving it to the people

who will k*ll me if
I don't. End of story.

- (SIGHS)
- Oof!

Ugh!

I've stepped in sick.

Oh! I've stepped in sick!

Ugh!

Henry, (SIGHS)

I find your position on the
matter of justice abhorrent.

That you are a police constable
makes it all the more troubling.

But seeing as we have
no idea where the key is,

the point is entirely academic.

- Rankins must have it.
- Oh-ho-ho!

Think about it: if Rankins is
the guy who had the evidence,

maybe he's the one who made the
anonymous phone call to Mrs. Vermont.

He's playing two customers
against one another.

Maybe he agreed to sell it to Fine,

but decided to hold out for more money.

I'll bet you anything he never
put the key in that figurine.

Which scarcely helps
you. Rankins is a ghost.

Oh, we have to try.

We can go back to where
he gave me the parcel.

Maybe there'll be some sign of him.

You there!

How much for one shoe?

cents.

Ah, for a pair. How much for one shoe?

Why do you want one shoe shined?

Only one shoe is dirty.

One shoe is two shoes.

It is not.

Shoeshine's a shoeshine, friend.

- It's one thing.
- Can we get going?

Fine.

Make it quick.

Oh!

(SIGHS)

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

(CREAKING)

Here it is. This is where
he gave me the parcel.

I don't see anything of interest.

Ah, maybe he lives in
one of these apartments,

or someone knows him, at least.

(WHISTLING)

Here we are. Duchess and Beverly.

This must be Mr. Cone's building.

Aha. See?

That tune sticks in your ear.
You'll be whistling it all week.

My God, you're right.

If you catch me whistling
it again, you can smack me.

- Come on.
- Wait.

It's the pawnbroker.
We can't let him see us.

Hey! You!

Ah! Stop! Stop!

Stop! Stop! Come back!

Stop! Stop, come back!

Should we look into that?

I'm sure it's nothing.

Come on, Murdoch.

Hey! I just want my cheque!

- Did we lose him?
- Ah, he didn't stand a chance!

Whoa! (BRAKES SCREECHING)

(SUSANNAH GIGGLING)

Oh, I almost k*lled someone.

Uh, Henry.

- What?
- What's this?

The box. From the statuette.

- Which one?
- The one Rankins gave me.

I took the statuette
out before I sold it.

(GASPS)

(RUSTLING)

- Nothing.
- Are you sure?

Curious.

Oh my God. I'm not gonna die!

(PANTING)

I have to give this to those men, Watts.

If you do, a notorious
m*rder*r, Mr. Fine, will go free.

If I don't, they'll k*ll me.

(SIGHS)

The parcel was entrusted to you.

The key was in the parcel.

It's yours to do with as you see fit.

But you engaged me,

which led to me learning
the facts of the situation.

My knowledge of these facts
demands I inform the police.

Your knowledge doesn't demand anything!

It does if I wish to
lead an ethical life.

Who cares about that?

If I don't show up with this key,

or if those men think that I
told the police, they'll k*ll me.

Watts, I have a wife
and a daughter at home.

We open the locker ourselves.

We ascertain that the
evidence is relevant.

If it is, we photograph it.

You deliver the key to
the men who want you dead

and I deliver a facsimile
of the evidence to the police

anonymously after enough
time has passed that the men

will no longer suspect your involvement.

Fine.

(♪)

Excelsior.

What?

Excelsior. Fine strands of wood

used for packaging delicate goods.

I know what it is!

How on earth do you
know what it's called?

Well, it's common...

Lot of photographs.

It doesn't appear that
Mr. Cone's a Peeping Tom.

- Hm. Private investigator.
- Ah!

So, which one of his
cases got him k*lled?

Aye-aye. I know that fella.

Oh, I think I do, as
well. The bookmaker.

That's right. Fine.

I heard he was arrested
for possibly murdering

the wealthy racehorse owner.

Murdoch? Blood.

Sir, these photographs are numbered.

- .

- .

So, there's missing.

Perhaps the photos in between

depict Mr. Fine

murdering someone?

So, Cone took the photos,

offered to sell them to Fine.

He pays $ and keeps the photos.

And then kills Mr. Cone to ensure
no one ever finds out the truth.

I think we've just found
our k*ller, Murdoch.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- Stop.
- What?

There's a man sitting to
our left reading a newspaper.

There's another man sitting to our right

reading a newspaper.

They're both reading yesterday's papers.

They must be watching the locker.

Or it's just a coincidence.

What do we do?

I have an idea.

You'll be from Cincinnati;
I'll be from Vienna.

(COUGHING)

(INTRIGUING MUSIC)

- Ach! Mein Gott!
- Hey.

A moment of your time, friend?

Hey, get your hands off of... Hey! Hey!

Shh, easy now. Easy.

What's going on? Oh.

- Let's go.
- Hello.

(♪)

Hey!

Where are we going?

I'm from Cincinnati.

- (GRUNTS)
- Get in here!

(ENGINE REVVING)

Hey, hey!

Follow that automobile. Do it quickly.

(FINE): I already talked to you people.

(MURDOCH): You people?

Coppers.

You don't respect me,

I don't respect you.

Luckily, I don't need you.

All you've got is some
anonymous tip with no evidence.

My lawyer's gonna get me outta
here by the end of the day.

Mr. Fine, you are being detained

regarding the m*rder
of Benjamin Vermont.

I'm here regarding another dead man:

Milton Cone.

(FINE): Never heard of him.

He was found m*rder*d down by
River Street earlier this morning.

Mm. Well, you know what?

I'll send his widow some flowers.

He had $ tucked into his jacket.

She can buy her own flowers.

A withdrawal was made from your account

at the Dominion Bank for
$ cash just this week.

Hm. What can I tell ya?

It's quite a coincidence,
don't you think?

Sometimes things mean something;

sometimes they don't.

Mr. Fine, I believe you k*lled Mr. Cone

because of something he knew
about Mr. Vermont's m*rder.

(FINE): I'm tired of this. You
want the truth about Vermont?

Find Rankins.

What do we do with him now?

Just leave him in there.

(HEAVY BREATHING)

(GRUNTING)

(COUGHING)

- What now?
- We wait for the boss.

And here we are.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

(CHUCKLES)

- This is what was in the locker?
- That's right.

Fetch the gasoline and
start a fire, will you?

What about him?

- Make it a big fire!
- What?

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

What is this? There's nothing in here.

This is the guy. That's
what was in the locker.

- Which locker?
- The locker. Shep, the key.

.

It's the wrong locker!

Get back to the railway station at once.

Let's go.

(SIGHS)

- What do we do with him?
- What do you think?

Leave him here?

He could go to the police.

So, we have to do something about him.

Yeah.

Um, maybe we tell him
not to go to the police?

I'm not much for conversation.

(GRUNTING)

- (CLATTERING)
- Wh-what was that?

There!

- Run!
- (g*nshots)

(INTENSE MUSIC)

(SIGHS)

Mrs. Vermont was set on
destroying the evidence

that is in that locker.

We can safely say she
is not a grieving widow

seeking to convict
her husband's m*rder*r.

Do you think she k*lled him herself?

Almost certainly.

Which means Mr. Fine is innocent.

See? I should have just
given the key to his men

in the first place and
this would all be over.

And we wouldn't have nearly
been sh*t dead in the alley.

Now what do we do?

This is a good question.

(SIGHS)

Let us entertain the
scenarios available to us.

Scenario one.

We return to the station
in an attempt to retrieve

the evidence from the locker.

Then the men with yesterday's
newspapers see us,

recognize us, kidnap
us and take the key.

Mrs. Vermont destroys the evidence

and goes unpunished for
the m*rder of her husband.

- They'll also k*ll us.
- Yes, I elided that part.

We will surely be k*lled.

(SOMBRE MUSIC)

Scenario two:

you deliver the key to Mr. Fine's men.

They take it to the station

where the men with yesterday's
newspapers see them.

If Fine's men come out alive,

they will likely believe
you led them into this trap

and thereafter seek to k*ll you.

If they don't come out alive,

Mr. Fine himself will have
to think that Rankins, you,

was in league with Mrs. Vermont
and led his men to their deaths.

Whatever the outcome,
you will likely be k*lled.

Scenario three:

we deliver the key to Mrs. Vermont.

She goes free

and Mr. Fine's men seek
you out and k*ll you.

Scenario four:

you mail the key to Detective Murdoch

with a note explaining its relevance.

He takes it to the station

where the men with
yesterday's newspapers see him

and alert Mrs. Vermont,
allowing her a chance to flee.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fine's men
seek you out and k*ll you.

None of these scenarios sounds good.

There remains scenario five,

in which you deliver
the key to the detective

and the inspector in person.

You explain everything.

They deploy constables to
protect you indefinitely

while they retrieve the evidence and
attempt to prosecute Mrs. Vermont,

her men and perhaps even
Mr. Fine's men who did...

Oh! What the hell?

... after all, as*ault you.

The inspector learns everything.

I could go to jail. I'll lose my job.

But not your life.

(SIGHS)

You don't understand.

I wasn't delivering parcels because
I wanted the money. I needed it.

Our house was a gift
from Rupert and Lucinda,

but we can't afford it.

If I lose my job, we'll be
out in less than a month.

As imperfect as it may be,

it's the only scenario that
results in anything other than you,

or both of us, getting k*lled.

(SIGHS) I can't face the inspector.

You do it.

I'd very much rather not.
It's your predicament.

And one I would have been out of

if your stupid morals
hadn't have stopped me

from giving the key to those
men as soon as we found it!

We never would have
found the key if I hadn't

stolen the cheque from the
pawnbroker, whose ire caused me

to topple arse over tip
into your automobile.

Heads it's me.

Tails it's you.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

Mr. Fine claims he doesn't know Mr. Cone

and that the $ is just a coincidence.

And Decker at Station House
One is about to let him go.

It seems that without
the missing photographs,

they don't have enough
evidence to convict him.

Fine didn't give you anything?

All he said was the answer
lies with a man named Rankins.

(BRACKENREID): Rankins? Who's Rankins?

I have no idea.

What is it, Higgins?

- (PHONE RINGING)
- Oh.

Brackenreid.

Oh! Just a sec, Doctor.

It's the missus.

(MURDOCH): Hello?

(BRACKENREID): Thought
you were off sick?

I was, sir.

I'm feeling much better now.

Well, get back to work then.

Right away.

All right. I'll see you then.

Everything all right on the home front?

Oh, yes. Julia just needs
me to bring home a lens

for our slide projector.

What for?

Once again, I am at a loss.

- You couldn't go through with it?
- Hear me out.

Detective Murdoch is investigating...

Detective Murdoch is
investigating the death

of a P.I. named Milton Cone.

But I saw his photo, Cone is Rankins.

The man who gave you the parcel.

Precisely. Rankins must be his alias.

Fine told Detective Murdoch that
Rankins is the key to the case,

but he has no idea that Cone and Rankins

are one and the same.

- So what?
- So, it gave me an idea.

Scenario six.

The timing will have to be perfect.

We lure all the players together
at exactly the same time.

Mrs. Vermont thinks she's
getting just what she wants

but, instead, she gets
caught red-handed.

Murdoch, there's a letter for you.

Look who it's from.

Rankins?

What on earth?

"Go to this locker at
Parkdale Station and wait.

The k*ller will appear at p.m."

What locker?

(♪)

In truth, Mrs. Vermont,

my client was not a disinterested party.

He presented himself to
me as a clumsy delivery boy

who'd lost something of great value.

In fact, he was a rat.

He pretended to have lost the key

in order to sell it to Nathan
Fine at an inflated price.

When I discovered the truth,

I brought it to you.

(MRS. VERMONT): You trust me.

I trust you will pay
me what you promised.

Double Mr. Fine's best price.

A promise is a promise.

Sorry I'm late. But I
have something for you.

What's this? We don't
want our money back.

We want the key, Rankins.

You'll get a refund

and the key will end up
right where you want it to.

But you have to do one last thing.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- Nothing.
- A ruse?

- (GRUNTING)
- How dare you?

What's all the commotion?
Toronto Constabulary.

These men have concealed weapons.

- Is that right?
- Now what's going on?

We didn't do a thing!

What's in your pocket?

- Uh, my handkerchief.
- Oh, yeah.

What's this then?

Search him, constables.

(HUBBUB)

Excuse me, Miss.

I'm afraid I haven't the time.

I'm afraid you aren't going anywhere.

I'd like to see what's
inside of this envelope

and inform you that you
are a suspect in the m*rder

of Benjamin Vermont.

I was having a liaison with Mr. Fine.

I met him when he approached
Benny about fixing a race.

And Benny refused, of course.

There's something wrong
with me, Detective.

I... I crave excitement.

And Mr. Fine was so exciting.

But Benny began to get suspicious.

I think he hired the
private investigator

who took these photos.

That night,

Nathaniel and I met.

Benny was supposed to be
travelling to Rochester,

but he missed the boat and...

when he found us
together, he was furious.

He was out of his mind.

Nathan fled, but it was me
that Benny was angry with.

He hit me.

Again and again.

I... I had no choice
but to pull the trigger.

What are those?

The b*ll*ts proved it
was the same g*n used

to k*ll her husband and the P.I.

Even if her story of k*lling Mr.
Vermont in self-defence were true,

she still m*rder*d Mr. Cone.

She's dead to rights.

That just leaves the identity
and the role of Rankins.

I doubt he's important.

Higgins, where have you been?

I was chasing a thief.

Where is he?

He got away.

Bloody hell. I've half
a mind to fire you.

(WHISTLING)

(CHUCKLES)

What will you do with it?

I'm considering keeping it.

You lied to her and got her arrested.

Doesn't seem very
moral to keep her money.

I've been reflecting on this, Henry.

Morality is not a constant.

Principles are not immutable.

Do you know who I learned this from?

I don't really know philosophy.

"Do whatever seems all
right in the moment."

Henry Higgins.

- A notion as profound as any.
- Hm.

Well, sometimes I just say these things.

As of today, I intend
to start living my life

in accordance with the
teachings of Higgins

and today what seems all right

is taking this money and
investing it in myself.

Investing it how?

Well, since Mr. Cone is no longer,

perhaps Toronto could use
a new private investigator.

(JULIA): All right, it's ready.

What's this all about?

I've been working on a little surprise.

You see, William, you're
right that Susannah

is going to get up to
all kinds of trouble.

But there's nothing
we can do about that.

In the blink of an eye,

something terrible could happen, but...

something wonderful too, could happen.

We have no idea what the
world has in store for her.

Could you get the lights?

(CHUCKLES)

- (SUSANNAH COOING)
- Oh!

(JULIA CHUCKLES)

Julia, how did you do this?

I had a little bit of help from
Mr. Talman at the photo shop.

No wonder he said all
of those strange things.

Julia, these are marvelous.

Oh, William, I just wanted to remind you

that the possibilities
of her life are endless.

And no tether is going to
keep her from exploring them.

(SIGHS)