03x01 - The Vanishing

[bunniefuu]

[dramatic music]

[click]

[lightbulb pops, sizzles]

[lightbulb pops, sizzles]

[lightbulb pops, sizzles]

[flame crackles]

-That damned woman.

[lightbulb pops, sizzles]

-[Photographer] Hold your
board higher, please.

-There's been a
terrible mistake.

I must insist on speaking

to Inspector
Wellington immediately.

[lightbulb pops,
sizzles] [dramatic music]

I can explain.

[theme music]

It's just a misunderstanding.

-Misunderstandings seem to
follow you wherever you go.

-Fine. I never should have
requested the assistance

of my friends, but it was a
particularly complex case.

-Mr. Potts is your
friend now, is he?

-Not exactly.

He was calling on Ivy
when the police showed up

accusing me of all
manner of wrong doing.

-Public disorder.

-Solomon pretended
to be intoxicated.

Identity fraud.

How was I to know that my old
head mistress was still alive?

-Theft?

-Clementine is a
law unto herself.

I never told her to pickpocket
a government minister.

-Please do not tell me any more.

-William...

thank you for ensuring no
charges will be brought.

I will give you no more trouble.

-Oh, how I would
love to believe that.

Sign your release form.

-[sighs]

-Barnabus is in
a terrible state.

He was signing his release form
with shaking hands, Lizzie.

Never has he been so humiliated.

-I said I'm sorry.

-I wouldn't be surprised
if he never sets foot

in our house again.

-If only. This is
all Moses's fault.

If he'd been on hand
I wouldn't have had to

look elsewhere for help.

-Where is Moses, anyway?

[crowd cheering]
[punches thrown]

-[Man] Hit him!

[punches thrown]

-[MAN] Go on!

[more punches thrown]
[crowd cheering]

-[MAN] Oh, yeah!

-[MAN] Pay up, pay up.

-I believe I have some winnings?

[doors crash open]

[police whistle]
- Police, nobody move.

[high tempo music]

-Do I need remind
you that gambling

without a license is ill*gal?

[Moses panting]

Get them in the wagon, lads.

[police officers chatting]

I'm a fair man, so I'll
give you two choices.

Arrest, or you give
me some information.

I need to track down a certain
suspect who's gone to ground.

I'll tell you who.

But it's a highly
confidential case.

-So you must keep
it to yourself.

-Is it Logan Cooper?

-How do you know that?

At the Winchester Bank.

You have two witnesses, a
Mr. Hall and a Mr. Myman.

[horse snorts]

You've launched a
manhunt for Cooper

but the only
information you have

is that he was last seen
in the Charing Cross area

on Tuesday night.

-That's classified information.

Who's your snitch?

-It was no snitch.
[dramatic music]

[newspaper slams on desk]

-Thanks to your rag of a paper,

my prime suspect now knows
that we are looking for him.

And my two key witnesses

both of which you've named,

have now got a sudden
case of amnesia.

This isn't the first
time that you have

interfered with one
of my investigations.

[newspaper drops]

Who gave you the tip-off?

-What kind of a world would
we live in, Inspector,

if a Chief Correspondent
revealed his source?

-[sighs]

[threatening music]

[Sinclaire chokes]

The kind where you find yourself

beaten to a pulp if you don't.

[Sinclaire grunts]

-It wasn't just one.

-Tipping off the press stops.

Now, I don't care how
much they're paying,

nor do I care how many
free pints, free dinners

or free women they
dangle in front of you.

You do not speak to anyone
outside of this department

about ongoing investigations!

-But it's always been
the way, Skipper.

How else do we
supplement the old wages?

-I have turned a
blind eye till now.

No more speaking to journalists!

-Sir, my friend Mr. Lawrence
is an Opera Critic

for The Sunday Times

this very eve.

-Oh, my dear Mr. Lawrence,

however will you
cope without me?

-I wasn't talking
to you, Charlie.

-No? Well, maybe you
shouldn't talk at all,

you bloody idiot.

-Pack it in, the pair of you!

[jaunty music]

Get back to work.

[hooves clopping]

-[HORSEMAN] Yeah!

-Goodness knows what
Barnabus must think.

Such a fine upstanding man
spending the night in a cell.

It is not right.

-I've learned a
valuable lesson, Ivy.

Tackling such an extensive
case was naive of me.

-Well, I will sleep better
knowing you have curbed

your ambitions.

-I'm not going to curb anything.

I'm going to expand.

If I am to employ
skilled personnel

I need to be properly resourced.

In short, I need more money.

-Where you going?

-The bank to ask for a loan.

And I will not take
no for an answer.

[Ivy sighs]

-No.

-Absolutely not.

-Out of the
question, I'm afraid.

-[sighs]

[street sounds]

[door opens]

-I just wanted to
check if we are still

to dine this evening?

-This evening?

-The last Wednesday
of each month we dine

and the last Wednesday each
month I have to remind you.

-[sighs] Would you
mind if we rearranged?

-Yes fine, we can
rearrange... again.

-Again?

-Yeah, you did this last month.

-Oh, yes. I'm sorry.

I'm just having a
particularly vexing day.

-My prime suspect in an armed
robbery has done a runner.

So, it cannot be
any worse than mine.

Not that it's a competition.

-Then why are you making it so?

-I apologise. It's
not your fault.

It's his.

That damn journalist Sinclaire

has leaked confidential
information,

hence my missing man.

-Can't you get him
to remove the story

for the later edition?

-Damage is already done.

Two hundred thousand souls
will have read it by now,

amongst them, my prime suspect.

-Two hundred thousand?

-Sadly, yes. There seems to be

an insatiable appetite
for the gutter press.

Perhaps Mr. Potts is right,

the country's going
to hell in a handcart.

[jaunty music]

-Two hundred thousand?

[door opens]

[people chatting, laughing]

[door closes]

Mr. Sinclaire.

Your office said I
would find you here.

I would like to place an
advert in your newspaper.

As usual I'm run off my feet,

but you can never
have too many clients.

-I have a better
idea, Miss Scarlet.

Something far superior
to a mere... advert.

Shall we?

[door opens]

-You want to hire me
and run an article

on the investigation?

-You may wish to
call it an article,

I would much rather a five
part serialized adventure

featuring The Lady Detective.

I can think of no better
advert for your services.

See, my readership are bored
of stories about the police,

so dull, so predictable,

but you...

that is an altogether
more alluring prospect.

-So, what is this case?

-Last night one of my
illustrators attended a show

at the Flanders Theater,
just off Lulworth Lane.

The proprietor had
commissioned an advert

and said illustrator
was there sketching

the various acts.

When it was the turn of
the in-house magician,

Alfonso, the Great
Italian Illusionist,

it began as a rather
generic magic act.

But then, something
extraordinary happened.

[hooves clopping]
[jaunty music]

-So last night the Great
Alfonso did his vanishing act.

But actually did vanish?

-Disappeared into thin
air, from that very box.

- Miss...?
- Ling.

-Talk me through exactly
what happened, Miss Ling.

Every detail.

And we do the same
act, every night.

And last night was no different.

As usual, we walked
onto the stage

and performed our act to music,

then it came to
the vanishing trick

and Alfonso climbed into the box

only but this time,
he didn't reappear.

The box was empty.

-Tell me about the trick.

[audience applauding]

- We do all the
usual setup business.

The girl,

the box,

the sense of expectation.

Then Alfonso gets inside.

I push in the plunger,

he waves the handkerchief
to show he's still in there.

I keep pushing
until he disappears.

[audience applauding]

I show that he's gone,
and the box is empty.

Then I pull the
plunger back out.

And Alfonso reappears.

[audience applauding]

But like I said, last
night he didn't reappear.

-There must be a
rational explanation.

Show me how he
initially disappears.

-It's a side compartment.

It's cushioned with enough
depth to allow Alfonso

to lean back and
escape the plunger.

There's also a secret
compartment for his legs.

-Hmm.

-That's very clever.

But it doesn't explain
why he didn't reappear.

And you're absolutely certain

he didn't sneak out of the box?

-I'm sure.

I mean, one minute
he was in there,

and the next minute he was gone.

-Where was the last place
Alfonso would have been

before coming on
stage last night?

-Budalo.

Watch where you are going.

- Excuse me?
- Yeah?

-I think I took a wrong turn.

I'm looking for
Alfonso's dressing room?

-Oh, typical, it is all
about Alfonso today.

I have no time
for this. Odlazi.

- Pardon?
- Bugger off!

[dramatic music]

[door opens]

-Excuse me, I was looking
for the dressing room

of the magician?

-Which one? My father
or the other magician?

-Alfonso, the missing one.

-Missing? [scoffs]

-Alfonso would love that.

He's full of fun.

Loves playing tricks on people.

-Oh, you think this
a publicity stunt?

I fear you may be right.

I've been hired to find him.

I'm a private investigator.

-[laughs] You're what?

[laughs] Sorry. Do
people say that a lot?

Let's just say it's a source
of consternation for some.

-My father has convinced himself

that everyone wishes to know
the tricks of his trade.

I built him this chest
to keep him happy.

Magicians are as paranoid
as they are competitive.

-Your father's the
other magician?

Slaven the Sorcerer.

-Milena, you are
late for rehearsal.

-Papa, this is Miss Scarlet.

She's a private investigator.

-She's a what?

[playful music]

-Alfonso's dressing room?

-Third door down.

[dramatic music]

[door clicks]

[door closes]

[tapping]

-This whole thing is ridiculous.

-Miss Scarlet?

Apologies I was not
here to greet you.

I am the theater
owner, Mr. Flanders.

I come from a meeting with
your client, Mr. Sinclaire.

He informs me you are
the best in the business.

A lady detective.

How extraordinary.

-Hmm.

So, how goes your investigation?

-Well, I'm afraid I can
find no rational explanation

for your magician's
disappearance.

-Well, that's because the
cause of Alfonso's vanishing

is one of a supernatural nature.

-Supernatural?

-It is the work of
the Flanders Phantom.

A malevolent force

As I told Mr Sinclaire
not half an hour ago,

there is a ghostly apparition
behind the missing magician.

-That is quite a
headline, Mr. Flanders.

It even rhymes.

-Does it?

I hadn't really given
it much thought.

-I believe I am done here.

[street sounds]

[people chattering]

-Who was that?

-What's it gotta do with you?

-I was only asking.

-Well, don't.

If you must know, it's Detective
Lenahan from Bow Street.

He's assisting in
the Cooper case.

[burps]

Come on, cough up.

I'm dying of thirst here.

-It's your round.

-But I've not
finished my drink yet.

-Tough, I ain't got money
to buy myself another,

thanks to the skipper
and his ban on the press.

-Inspector Wellington
clearly thinks

it's the right thing to do.

-Well, it's hitting me and
the lads in our pockets.

We're not all born with a
silver spoon in our gob.

Now, get yourself to the bar.

And as your senior officer,
that's a direct order.

[door opens]

-A body's been pulled
from the river,

right by Charing Cross Bridge.

Looks like our manhunt for
Cooper might be over, lads.

[dramatic music]

[sheet swishes]

-That ain't Logan Cooper.

-Who is he then?

[door knock]

[door opens]

-Mr. Sinclaire?

-I do apologise for the
interruption, Miss Scarlet,

but I am most eager
to parley with you.

-And I you, Mr. Sinclaire.

I'm sure you're aware
this missing magician

is nothing more than
a publicity stunt.

-Oh, he is no longer missing.

He is dead.

Plucked from the
bowels of the Thames

this very darkest of nights.

It seems your serialised case

has become a m*rder
investigation.

And with it, promotion
to the front page.

[dramatic music]

-No one in or out without
my say so, is that clear?

-Yes, Sir.

-Good morning Miss Scarlet.

-Detective Fitzroy.

-Access to the theater is by

Inspector Wellington's
authority only.

I cannot let you in, I'm afraid.

-Oh, but I'm running
an investigation here

and Inspector Wellington is
fully supportive of that.

-Am I, indeed?

-Inspector Wellington.

It would be most helpful
if you would grant me

with access to the theater.

-No.

-I'm in the middle of a case.

-So I've heard.

-Hired by that weasel Sinclaire.

-William, we can
help each other.

I have prior knowledge
of this case.

-Do not William me.

This is a m*rder investigation

and that rag of a paper
will not hamper me again.

-Mr. Sinclaire has assured
me that not one word

will be printed until
the case is closed.

-And I don't believe one word

that comes out of
that toad's mouth.

You know, Henry
wouldn't have worked

with a crook like Sinclaire.

-[Horseman] Here, walk on!

And furthermore he would
be most upset to know

that you'd belittle me
by saying such a thing.

What?

If you're genuinely offended

-What a low opinion
you have of me.

-Good. That clears that up.

You're not coming in.

-Then I will have no choice but
to run my own investigation.

-As you wish, but as long as
that newspaper is your client,

stay out of mine.

Come along.

[soft music]

[door closes]

[paper ripping]

-This is the poster
from the theater

and this is the sketch
from the illustrator,

done the night
Alfonso disappeared.

-And?

-Well... [sighs]

but in the poster he has
an ornate silver one.

-Oh, that's because the
magician didn't use a wand

the night the illustrator
did the sketch.

But, people do love to see
a magician with a wand,

so, I asked him to add one in.

[dramatic music]

[hooves clopping]

[people chattering]

[laughing]

-I hope I'm not disturbing you?

[coughs]

Dreadful news about Alfonso.

Poor girl's distraught.

-What are you doing
here? Did you follow me?

-I just need a
moment of your time.

-Alfonso's death is now
a m*rder investigation.

It is not a matter for
tabloid consumption.

It is a matter for the police.

-I can assure you, Mr. Flanders,

as am I.

About my theater, that we
are still open for business.

Seven days a week.

Two matinees at the weekend.

-I understand you
don't want publicity

relating to the death, but
I still have questions.

-And I am afraid that
neither Miss Ling

nor any of my staff
will be answering them.

-I see.

Well, in that case,
I'm sure the readership

of the Illustrated Police News

would love a personal
story instead.

Perhaps something about
you, Mr. Flanders?

You're married with
children, are you not?

-Very well.

Do not be late back.

-Yes Mr. Flanders.

-I merely have one
question, Miss Ling.

Alfonso didn't use his wand
during the last performance.

Was that unusual?

-Very.

I was surprised since it had
such great sentimental value

to him.

For his retirement.

-His retirement?

-Next month was his 50th
anniversary in the business.

That's when he planned
to give the act up.

-Do you know who Alfonso
sold his wand to?

-The entertainment
shop in Carnaby Street.

I've already told
the inspector this.

[dramatic music]

-The inspector?

[door slams, bell tinkles]

Good afternoon, Sir.
Mr. Baggott at your service.

-Good afternoon.

-Of course, Sir.

But I must warn you,
he does like to chat.

[laughs]

It's just my little joke.

It is not, of
course, a real skull

or indeed, Mr. Faversham.

Although the dear old fellow
did pass away ten years back.

I've been the owner ever since

and I decided to keep the name.

How can I help
you this fine day?

-You can stop doing
that for a start.

-Of course, Sir.

-I'm Inspector Wellington
from Scotland Yard.

I'm here to ask you some
questions about a magician,

Alfonso?

The Great Italian Illusionist?

-Oh, what has he done now?

He's always up to
mischief, that one

and playing tricks [laughs].

You know, I remember
this one time,

it really is rather funny.

He said that he could get
me a rabbit for my act

but when I opened the bag...

-He's dead, Mr. Baggott.

[tense music]

[door opens, bell tinkles]

[door closes]

Excuse me one moment.

Thank you.

[people chattering]

I told you to stay out
of my investigation.

-It's not just
your investigation.

-I'm not having this
conversation again.

-Fine, go back in and
question him then.

I'll merely wait my
turn and do the same.

What sense is that?

-If one word of this is
printed before the case

- is closed...
- It will not be. I swear it.

-So, Alfonso was a
regular customer?

-How I did enjoy his visits.

-And he sold you his
wand, is that correct?

-He was supposed to.

I sell new, as
well as used props.

Although I would hardly
call his wand a prop.

The magic act has been in his
family for five generations,

father to son, and each one is
given an exquisite silver wand.

He was the fifth Alfonso the
Great Italian Illusionist.

Though, nothing Italian
about them of course.

They were from Kilburn.

-So, he took over
from his father?

-Yes.

When his father
retired, Alfonso,

being on the small side,

actually had his shoes built up

so that he was the same height

so that nobody could
tell when one Alfonso

took over from the next.

-You say that he was planning
to sell you the wand?

-He was due to come into
the shop at seven o'clock

before going on stage yesterday.

Alfonso really was the most
punctual of gentlemen, so...

it really was out
of the ordinary

when he never turned up.

-So Alfonso didn't use
his wand in his act,

even though he was
yet to sell it.

Nor did he turn up for
his appointment two hours

before he was due on stage.

When you examined the body,
were there any additional clues?

-Nothing of note.

-Perhaps I could see
the autopsy report?

-Eliza, I allowed you to
sit in on the questioning

but that is as far as it goes.

Now, if you will excuse me.

-You're in rather a hurry.

-I have other cases to
attend to attend to [sniffs].

-You just sniffed and we
both know what that means.

-That I have a cold?

-That you're lying.

[playful music]

Is there something
you're not telling me?

-Good day, Eliza.

[scoffs]

[market sounds]

[door closes]

[thunder rumbles]

-An apology would've been nice.

[mumbles] There's no
manners these days.

[keys rattle]
[thunder rumbles]

[door squeaks, closes]

[tense music]

-Hairline fracture at
the side of the skull

but cause of death, drowning.

Time of death says
it could be anything

between six o'clock
and midnight.

-His act finished at ten,

which gives a two hour
window for when he died.

Anything else?

-Signs of liver damage.

Could be a drinker?

-These are his possessions.

Just the clothes
he was found in.

Could be the police have
taken anything of importance.

-What's with the heels?

-He was on the short side.

According to the owner
of the entertainment shop

he had them built up so he was
the same height as his father.

[thunder rumbles]

What's that?

-The Thames.

[dramatic music]

-Moses.

[key jangles]

-[ELIZA] Are you
sure about this?

-[MOSES] I'm always sure.

That key has one purpose,
and one purpose only.

- To open a safe.
- Where is it then?

[banging] Ooh, ooh, ooh. Ah!

[WHISPERS] I can't see a
damn thing. Need more light.

A genie's lamp. How
apt for a magician.

This lamp is stuck to the table.

[clicks]

[hinge creaks]

Looks like we found our safe.

[key inserts into lock]

[lock clicks]

-Alfonso's wand.

-Why would a magician do
his act without his wand

when it was here at the
theater all the time?

-The same reason he didn't
turn up to his appointment

at Faversham's shop.

Whoever was on stage that
night wasn't Alfonso.

It was an imposter

because Alfonso
was already dead.

[hooves clopping]
- [HORSEMAN] Here!

-Missing wands, hidden safes,

a murderous imposter,
delicious, simply delicious.

Although, my thoughts
and prayers are obviously

with the family of the dead man.

Hmm.

So, what's your next move?

-Well, since this is
a m*rder investigation

and I have discovered
crucial evidence,

my only option is to
inform the police.

Specifically
Inspector Wellington.

-Never was there
a finer detective.

-Quite.

Although...

-Although?

-Well, a m*rder mystery solved
by a woman working alone,

now, that is a
compelling narrative

but should Inspector
Wellington become involved

not that I wish to speak ill
of such an upstanding officer,

but, well, there is a chance
he may overshadow your part

in the story.

Not intentionally, of course.

But my fear is that he
becomes the lead character

and you become... a
mere supporting role.

But, if you were to
delay speaking to him,

just for a few days,

it might give you time to
gather some more evidence.

Perhaps something that
might prove crucial in court

then your part in all of
this would be... oh...

impossible to ignore.

[dramatic music]

[hooves clopping]

-Sinclaire is right.

What harm is another day or
two before I share my findings?

-Well, you could be charged with

perverting the
course of justice.

That carries a sentence
of seven years in prison.

Although, for a first offense
with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises
a tariff of three years.

I've been practicing my reading
in your father's old law books.

-Right, I see.

Anyway, I've given
William every opportunity

to work with me on this
investigation, but to no avail.

So, if I do decide to work
this case a little longer

this is technically his
own doing, isn't it?

I suspect he's made his
own developments anyway.

He was very eager to
leave after questioning

the owner of the
entertainment shop.

Well, two can play at that game.

-For god's sake, don't
give him false information.

You could be charged
with perjury.

Although, that is only
triable on indictment.

[door opens]

I need this publicity, Ivy.

And I know I'm so close
to cracking the case.

For the last time, I
can get my own luncheon.

-I know you, my girl.

You never eat proper
when you're working.

And if you want my advice
on Inspector Wellington...

- Which I don't.
- You watch what you say to him.

-I don't intend to
say anything to him.

I intend to make it my business
to avoid him at all costs.

William.

-Morning, ladies.

- Lovely surprise.
- [WILLIAM] Hmm.

I was just passing.

Ivy.

-Inspector Wellington.

-How's your cold?

-Oh, it's better, thank you.

-That was quick.

[plucky music]
- Hmm.

-So... any developments
on the case?

-Oh, nothing of note. You?

-Nothing of note.

Well, I shall leave you ladies
to get on with your day.

- That was a swift visit.
- As I say, I was just passing.

-Goodbye, Inspector Wellington.

-Yeah.

-Now I am certain of it.

He is hiding something from me.

-She's hiding something from me.

-Didn't you tell her
what you had found out?

-No, nor will I with
Sinclaire as her client.

-Sir, would you want me to
focus my full attention on this?

With Bow Street assisting
in the Cooper case

I'm sure I could be spared.

-Bow Street?

What have they got
to do with Cooper?

-Well, Phelps said they were
part of the investigation.

I saw him meet with
Detective Lenahan.

-There is no Detective
Lenahan at Bow Street.

[detectives laughing]

[detectives laughing]

-Get back to work.

-[DETECTIVE] Sir.

[door closes]

-Not you, Detective Phelps.

-What's up, Skipper?

-When I said do not
talk to the press,

was I unclear in some way?

If so I can be clearer.

-Come on, Duke, it's
just a bit on the side.

If it's not me, it'll be
one of the other lads.

No one's happy about this.

-This happens again
and you are gone.

Is that understood?

-Yes, Duke.

[upbeat music]

-Good.

-Milena, I'm looking
for Miss Ling,

do you know where she is?

[box bangs]

[door knocks]

-Milena, is everything alright?

-I don't know
where Miss Ling is.

I haven't seen her.

-Are you moving in here?

-Not my idea, my father's.

He always wanted
Alfonso's dressing room.

He couldn't even wait
until after the funeral.

-I'm sorry, I know how
fond you were of him.

-And yet you said
those awful things.

-What things?

-I told you Alfonso
was full of fun.

I never said that he was a heavy
drinker with gambling debts.

-I have no idea what
you're talking about.

[newspaper slaps]
[tense music]

-Did you like the part
about the lady detective

and her inner bloodhound?

-Clearly I have no such thing

or I would have sniffed you
out as an untrustworthy crook.

-I beg your pardon?

-You have broken our agreement
and published details

that will interfere
with the investigation.

You've twisted my
words, Mr. Sinclaire.

-As Chief Correspondent there
are certain responsibilities

on my shoulders.

It's been a
dreadfully slow week.

-This is a catalogue of lies.

I never said the magician was
a gambler nor a heavy drinker.

-My dear Miss Scarlet,

no one wants to read
about a dead man

who was kind and loved by all.

My readers devour scandal
and salacious gossip.

It makes them feel better
about their own lives.

-Retract the article
and print an apology

or I will sever our agreement.

-And yet you have a man's
name above your door

to lure in customers.

-What? That's not the
same thing at all.

-Forgive me, is your
name Henry Scarlet?

-I can assure you one
day it will be my name

above the door.

-Well, until that
day you might be wise

to make useful friends
rather than powerful enemies.

-Are you threatening me?

-I'm merely advising you.

At present you are
unique and intriguing,

there are stories to be
told and money to be made.

But who knows what novelties
tomorrow will bring?

People will only pay once
to see the bearded lady.

-I do not need advice
from a washed up hack

who cannot get a job
on a real newspaper.

[newspaper slaps]
We are done, Sir.

-Very well.

Although, rest assured,
this washed up hack

has ruined many a reputation.

I have brought down
judges, politicians

and even an archbishop.

A female detective
will not be a problem.

[door closes]

[Eliza sighs]

-I'm sorry.

I should have shared my findings

rather than you having to
read them in the newspaper.

-It would have been preferable.

-And you were right
about Sinclaire,

I should have listened to you.

-That would have
been preferable too.

-How much longer are you
going to be angry for?

-Why? Are you in a hurry?

[scoffs]

Did you really call
Sinclaire a washed up hack?

[both laugh]

Fine, you'd better tell
me what else you know.

Suspects?

-Well, the other magician
couldn't wait to move

into Alfonso's dressing room.

And Alfonso's
assistant, Miss Ling,

seems to be having an affair
with the theater owner.

Perhaps he had some conflict
with the dead magician.

-But you have no proof?

-However, one thing I
am fairly certain about,

given Alfonso's
wand was in his safe

yet he didn't use during
his last performance,

nor did he turn up at
the entertainment shop

to sell his wand,

I believe an imposter was
on the stage that night.

-Hmm.

-Which is clearly
isn't news to you.

You suspected it
too, didn't you?

I knew you were hiding
something from me.

-Which, of course,
you would never do.

I need your word that
you are definitely

not working with
Sinclaire anymore.

-You have my word.

As we speak, he'll
be writing an article

designed to make
me unemployable.

-Well, I did suspect an imposter

but I didn't know
about the other wand.

-The other wand?

[drawer opens]

-I found it on the magician
when I examined his body.

-They're identical.

-On the face of it, yes.

I noticed that the handle
wasn't quite aligned.

And inside... was this.

-The magician's father, no
doubt The previous Alfonso.

-Let's find out if
they are identical.

[dramatic music]

-Two wands. Two boxes.

-Nothing suggests where
this photo was taken.

-Hand me that.

I know exactly
where it was taken.

-Did Alfonso use a
duplicate box to disappear?

-I would love to help you
but I simply cannot tell you

how the trick is done

or any trick, for that matter.

Us magicians, we
take a solemn oath.

-That is a shame, Mr. Baggott,

since perverting the
course of justice

carries a seven year sentence.

Although, for a first offense
with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises
a minimum of three.

Do I have that right,
Inspector Wellington?

-Indeed, you do, Miss Scarlet.

-Alfonso commissioned
a replica box

designed by my good self.

It's a bespoke service that
I offer to certain clients.

The original box had a hidden
compartment in the side.

But the replica went even
further in its trickery.

With the help of some
well-hidden latches

it actually had a false bottom

in which Alfonso could
not only hide in,

but lock without a soul knowing.

It's a work of art, if
I may say so myself.

-Alfonso planned to
use the replica box

for his final performance?

-He wanted to go out
in a blaze of glory.

Fifty years in the business. I
mean, that's quite something.

I may have designed the box

but I cannot take the
credit for making it.

His assistant must take
the credit for that.

Alfonso was so delighted
with what she'd done

that he asked me to
take a photograph

of the two boxes together.

He had a wand made for her

and he planned to put
the photograph inside

and give it to her after
his final performance.

It was his parting gift.

-His assistant made the box?

So, Miss Ling must have been
aware of what he was doing?

-I'm not talking
about Miss Ling.

[audience applauding]

-Ladies and gentlemen,
the Baker Street Girls.

Now please, put
your hands together

as we welcome our headline act.

The incredible, the mysterious,

Slaven the Sorcerer.

[audience applauding]

Thank you, thank you.

- Ma'am.

Amazed.

-I'm gonna need you
to come with me.

-What? I'm about to go on stage.

-I'm afraid you're not.

-You will not believe your eyes.

[rubbing sound]

-What's going on?

-Anything?

[street sounds]

-I grew up with Alfonso.

He and my father were on
the same bill for years.

He had no children of his own
so he taught me everything

he knew about magic.

He was so kind and
patient with me.

Unlike my own father.

He doesn't believe a woman could

or should be anything
other than an assistant.

But Alfonso,

he said one day I could
be a wonderful magician.

-So he let you help him
create a replica box

for his retirement show?

-Not even his assistant would
know how he disappeared.

It would be his lasting legacy.

But, he was dreading retirement.

He started to drink more,

became increasingly melancholic.

Not that anyone but me knew.

He was very good at
putting on an act.

But knowing his time in the
theater was coming to an end

was destroying him.

Magic was his life.

-What happened the day he died?

-The night before, he
was feeling very down.

-He told me there was no
point to his life anymore.

He always arrived an hour early
before he was due on the stage.

Always, without fail.

So the next day when he didn't,

I just knew he was
never coming back.

I feared the worst but
I didn't know for sure

until his body was
pulled from the Thames.

-You believe it was suicide?

-He'd talk about it
sometimes when he was drunk.

I never knew if he meant it.

-And that's why you
impersonated him?

-I couldn't bear him not having
the send-off he deserved.

I wanted him to go
out how he intended.

Performing the
trick of his life.

-And no-one else knew?

-Alfonso's act was
midway through the show

when I did the
disappearing trick.

Miss Ling couldn't
check the box thoroughly

as she was assisting
the next act too.

And as the stagehands
took the box

and the rest of the props
back to the storeroom,

I stayed hidden.

-And then later you
swapped the replica box

with the original.

-I gutted it, turned it
into a chest for my father.

Alfonso was the only
person who believed in me.

And now he's gone.

-Sir.

-I spoke to the coroner.

He thinks that the head injuries

are consistent with
a post-mortem blow.

Perhaps a boat or
the side of a bridge

when the dead man was
in the water, so...

it does look like suicide.

-So, what happens now?
Will Milena be charged?

-Well, I can't deny that we
would have got to suicide

much quicker had she not
posed as the dead man.

So, she could be charged with

perverting the
course of justice.

-But that is at your discretion?

-It is. I can't see
who it would benefit.

She seems a determined
young woman.

I have no doubt that she will
get where she wants to be.

I just... I hope it
doesn't consume her.

[scoffs] There's more
to life than work.

Just look at our
magician friend.

There's a valuable lesson there.

-Don't be too hard
on yourself, William.

Life isn't all about work.

-[laughs]

I wasn't talking about me.

[slamming sound]

[ominous music]

-It was you, weren't it?

You grassed me up to Duke.

-It wasn't my intention,
it just slipped out,

it was a mistake.

[hooves clopping]

-The files you requested, Sir.

-Right, I'm off for the night.

I'll see you in the morning.

Stop right there, Detective.

-I will not discuss
who did this, Sir.

-[sighs] Well, in that case
I have one question for you.

How do we stop this
from happening again?

-There you go, son.

-Good man.

See ya next time.

What you want now?

I'm no snitch.

-I don't want you to
snitch. I want you to teach.

-Show him how to box.

-Detective Fitzroy,

er, please feel free to
call me Oliver, Mr. Moses.

-It's just Moses.

[hooves clopping]
- [HORSEMAN] Here!

[slurping]

-Mr. Potts.

-Miss Scarlet.

-It's nice to see you again.

-Yes, the last time we met I
was sitting in a police cell

if memory serves.

-I did apologise.
Numerous times.

-There are occasions when a
simple apology will suffice.

This was not one of them.

[door closes]

-Today's edition.

-Sinclaire?

[newspaper rustles]

How bad is it? What
does he say about me?

-Absolutely nothing.

It's all about
Inspector Wellington.

It says all kinds of
nice things about him.

How determined,
tenacious, talented he is.

But nothing at all about you.

-Ha!

[dramatic music]

-Morning James,
how's the little one?

-Good, Sir.

-Ah, good morning.

-I take it you have seen
today's Illustrated Police News?

-Not yet, no.

-Well, to say Mr. Sinclaire
sings your praises

would be an understatement.

I, on the other hand,
am not mentioned at all.

- Hmm.
- Thank you, William.

I assume this was your doing?

You warned him off?

-I lifted the ban between
my men and the press

and that was enough
to satisfy Sinclaire.

To be honest, I would have
had to do it sooner or later

or I'd have a revolt
on my hands. Excuse me.

-Well, I'm still sorry for
any trouble I may have caused

by working with him.

In my determination to succeed

I may not have thought
things through.

I know I can be a tad...
- Impatient?

-You may call it impatience,
I call it eagerness.

-Well, whatever its name,

-You are a good friend indeed.

Which is why dinner
is on me tonight.

- I wasn't aware that
we were going out.

-Well, now you are. Life can't
all be about work, you know.

-[laughs]

[upbeat music]