02x02 - Episode 2

[bunniefuu]

GASPS There he goes.

His name is Harold Sneed.

Uh... He's a medium, a psychic.

ALL GASP AND SHRIEK

SCREAMS

The question is one of motive, then.

Well, you met the man.

Why would any of these people
want to k*ll him?

First up is the factotum,
one Ayesha Jean-Baptiste,

then Miss Geraldine Mercer.

I just got a phone call confirming
I was on the list.

BLISS: Our old friend,
Mrs Ada Dredge.

Mr Sneed and I are
on very good terms.

-BLISS: Ved Chopra.
-A car struck her.

BRAKES SCREECH

BLISS: And the spinster Misses
Plumchute, Clara and Emelia.

Money was of little interest...
BOTH: to poor Mr Sneed.

I don't charge.

Sorry, I didn't mean
to distress you, Miss...

Uh, Trottie.
Reggie Winters, Colonel.

GABRIEL: Sneed used his tricks
to get all sorts of shady contacts.

The prints on the dagger belonged
to Hopper, an ex*cuted n*zi.

Harold Sneed was m*rder*d
by a dead man.

EERIE VOICES WHISPERING

WHISPERING CONTINUES

SIGHS

Hmm.

BLISS: Where are we going?

Uh, isn't that what we all ask
ourselves every day, Inspector?

No, where are we actually going?
LIFT CLANKING

-Are you a believer?
-In what?

The eldritch, the uncanny,
the supernatural.

Uh, no, I wouldn't say so. I mean,
I... I don't walk under ladders.

Only prudent.
And I say good morning to magpies.

Mm, it'd be rude not to. It's deeper
than that, though, isn't it?

Scratch the veneer of civilisation,

it's extraordinary what tosh
people believe.

Take this case, for example.

Here we have a group of perfectly
rational-seeming human beings,

content to sit around
a table holding hands,

or rather, wrists,

trying to get in touch
with the departed.

Yeah, well, someone got
into very close touch

with the departed, didn't they?

-Sent Harold Sneed up to the pearly gates.
-Quite.

But a dead man's hand

did not wield that knife, Inspector.

So how was it done, then, huh?

EERIE VOICES WHISPERING

How did Harrison Hopper's
fingerprints end up on the dagger?

Ah.

Hang on, I mean, this is...

Yes, the Black Museum.

Scotland Yard's infamous
museum of crime.

Oh, and I thought I'd ask along

the city's foremost expert
on violent death.

I know how much she'll enjoy it.

This is the best day ever.

HORN BLARES

TROTTIE: The pattern, Book?
GABRIEL: We all of us develop habits.

We tend to go to
the same grocers, cobblers, bakers.

We wear a groove into our own lives,
a groove that can be analysed.

Come on, you two.

BELL RINGS

We need to find out everything we can

about all the people who attended
the fatal seance.

And there's really no better way

than by scrutinising
their spending habits.

BELL RINGING, TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWING

ELEPHANT TRUMPETING

TROTTIE: You and I shall adopt
the guises of twittery persons

and go about our business.

-Madam.
-Oh. I wonderif you can tell me...

-CHILDREN SCREAMING Hey!
-Come on!

REGGIE: Oh. I do beg your... Oh!

BOTH CHUCKLE

-Good afternoon.
-Hello again.

Is it a terrible cliche to say
we must stop meeting like this?

CHUCKLES
Off taking your constitutional?

-Yes, yes, that's right, yes. Old habits.
-Mm.

Can't bear being cooped up.

I sometimes watch the poor beggars
in the zoo, pacing up and down.

I'd go crackers.
CHUCKLES

-Chap must get out and about. Mm.
-Where are you, uh...

Oh, I... I'm just off
to the haberdasher's.

Oh, winter drawers, eh?
BOTH CHUCKLE

CHILDREN PLAYING
MAN: I saw that!

-Well.
-Yes, I must let you get on.

Uh, perhaps...

Yes?

Perhaps you might like
to take tea some time?

Perhaps.

My card.

Thank you.
HE CHUCKLES

BELL RINGING, TRADERS CALLING OUT

OFFICERS TALKING QUIETLY

SIGHS

SIGHS

EERIE VOICES WHISPERING

WHISPERING CONTINUES

Like a reliquary
for disreputable saints.

Nooses, false footprint makers,
death masks.

Oh, I've always wanted to come here.

OFFICER CHUCKLES
Mm. Well, sir,

the Black Museum's not open
to the public, as you know.

The public?

A special dispensation can be made.
Any friend of Mr Churchill.

GABRIEL CHUCKLES

So why are we here?

You've had a break-in,
Mr Kendall, haven't you?

What? No! Don't be ridiculous.
A break-in at Scotland Yard?

-Are you sure?
-Positive.

Been watchman here
for 20 year, and I've ne...

Broken window pane back there,

now stuffed with a newspaper,
a recent newspaper,

seems to be the point of entry.

Residue of crushed glass
on the carpet leading here.

-No mystery as to why you mightn't have heard anything.
-Eh?

Well, if you'd drunk as much whisky
as I can smell on you today,

you were probably sleeping
like a baby when it happened.

How dare you? I had...
SNIFFS

It m... must have been kids,
sir. Nothing was taken.

Outside, Kendall. Outside!

I'll deal with you in a minute.

So? What? What's in here, then?
Nora?

-Stuff from the Harrison Hopper case, of course.
-I knew you'd know.

I knew she'd know.
Lock's been forced recently.

Harrison Hopper's confession.

Alongside the noose that hanged him
and a cast of his face.

Yeah, they did a plaster cast
cos he was so notorious.

It was very common once upon a time.

Burke, of Burke and Hare,
they did him.

A cast of his face and...

And his hands.

TELEPHONE RINGING

-Oh, I see.
-Nothing's been stolen,

but clear signs
of interference here, Inspector,

and residual traces of wax.

-Someone's been copying Harrison Hopper's fingerprints.
-Clever.

-Clever!
-The easiest thingin the world, then,

to make another impression
from the wax mould

and transfer the fingerprints
to the hilt of the dagger.

But why?

KENDALL: Message for you, Inspector.

PAPER RUSTLING

Morris has made a discovery.

First time for everything.

Geraldine Mercer
isn't Geraldine Mercer.

Oh?

She used to be Geraldine Hopper.

Oh!

FILM PROJECTOR WHIRRING

NEWS THEME MUSIC PLAYS

ANNOUNCER: This is Cinegraph News.
Harrison Hopper is no more.

The treacherous Briton,

who did so much to undermine morale
on behalf of his n*zi paymasters,

has kept one final appointment
with the gallows.

Seen here taking exercise
before his trial,

Hopper threw himself upon
the mercy of British justice.

And justice found him wanting.

On January 3rd, 1946, at Wandsworth
Jail, he met his final end.

Who will mourn him?
No loyal Briton, that's for sure.

THEME MUSIC PLAYS

It's not fair. I've had the best day

doing something
I'm actually interested in,

and then you wanna...

Life is not fair, young lady.
You better get used to it.

Now, cook.
SPEAKS TURKISH

Cook!

Be gentle with her, Yusuf,
it's that age.

That age? She was always like that.
Even when my brother was alive.

Head in the clouds, thinking things

a young lady should not
be thinking.

Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Come on,
they've brought Geraldine back in.

In a sec.

Mr Book.

The Kormos.

Oh, is that the special?

Well, I look forward...
No, the Kormos. The spirits.

My niece says
you are involved with them.

In a sense.

It is best not to meddle
with these things, my friend.

These spirits, these ghosts,
they are devils.

They come back to Earth
from the underworld, Tamag,

and they do not wish us well.

Be careful, my friend.
Be very careful.

They only bring death.

DOOR CLOSES

HINGES CREAK
WOMAN: Put them in the back.

Oh...

Uh...

TRADERS CALLING OUT

Harrison Hopper was my father, yes.

You'll perhaps understand
why I didn't mention the fact,

and why I changed my name,
but what has this got to do with...

What... what was your relationship
like with him?

GERALDINE: We'd had no contact
with him for years.

Well, once he began
to show his true colours,

my mother and I,
we had no truck with him.

Then he was all over the papers,

propagandising for the Nazis.

It was horrible.

It was easier
to regard him as having died.

And then he did.
ex*cuted by the state.

Convicted, we now believe,

on evidence provided by
Harold Sneed.

But I... I had no idea.

Nevertheless, miss,

there's a clear link between you
and the m*rder*d man.

Now, now, Mr... Mr Book
here has been kind enough to show us

how your father's fingerprints
ended up on the m*rder weapon.

I... I didn't shed a single tear
when my father died, believe me.

If Harold Sneed had anything
to do with his arrest

and... and subsequent execution,
then I... I knew nothing of it.

I'd far more likely
to have shaken his hand

than to have stabbed him
with a dagger.

She broke into the museum,

used a cast of her father's hands
to make the prints,

and then she used the dagger
to m*rder Sneed.

-Motive?
-Revenge, obviously.

On the man whose evidence
sent her father to the gallows.

Well, why would she?

Why would she deliberately create
a direct link back to herself?

It doesn't make any sense.
He has a point, Morris.

Well, it's the psychology, innit?

That's what you're always banging
on about, Book.

She wanted her dad's dabs
to be all over that crime,

even if it meant
her swinging for it.

We have to charge her.

He's right.

How does Moliere have it?

"Unreasonable haste is
the direct road to error."

Yeah, well, Moliere didn't have

the chief constable breathing down
his ruddy neck.

JACK: The pattern, Book.

Stand someone a pint or...
or buy a paper off 'em.

Get talking to 'em about the test
match or... or... or the w*r trials,

and suddenly they're your best pal.

I mean, it's like
this massive network

of people behind counters, innit?

And, I mean,
it's right across London,

with Trottie as the sort of...

wallpaper paste that holds it
all together.

Precisely. As a method of gathering
information, it's invaluable.

And as a metaphor, that's gorgeous.

Could we all form a circle, please?

Aah.

Well? JACK: Well?

-Report.
-Oh, right.

Yeah, uh... Professor Chopra.

Yeah, he's a deep one.

Doesn't seem to spend much
on anything.

Grocers, ironmongers, tailors.

Man of very simple taste,

except when it comes to travel.

Exotic travel?

You shouldn't even be here.
Exotic travel?

Strictly domestic.

Chap called Fancy at St. Pancras.

Oh, dear old Fancy.

Now, he said that he noticed
the professor a lot.

He said that he used to get
the train up to Scotland

every week for months on months.

-Scotland is where the hit-and-run occurred, isn't it?
-Yeah.

GIRL LAUGHING

GIGGLES

Lakshme?

LAKSHME SCREAMING

Lakshme?

Lakshme? Lakshme!

SOBBING

GABRIEL: Visiting the scene
of the accident, perhaps.

And then suddenly,
he just stopped going up there.

Maybe that's when he started
attending the seances.

Hmm. Could we all hold hands, please?

Do you have a date for
the last visit to Scotland?

Top pocket.

And what about the Misses Plumchute?

TROTTIE: Hmm, usual stuff.

They patronise their local
butcher, baker, grocer.

-The odd bottle of sherry from Fortnum's.
-Mm!

But they have an unexpected account
with a gentleman's outfitter.

-Not local? -Very much not.
-Well away from where they live.

What have they been buying recently?

Two pairs of men's trousers.

-Cavalry twill.
-Yes, how did you... Could we all hold wrists, please?

Hold with the right, be held
by the left.

An unbroken circle.

But someone broke it, didn't they?

Someone. Hm. Who's next?

Uh, Mrs Dredge.
We know most about her, of course.

She seemed low on funds.

Waiting for Mr Harkup's inheritance.

As we know.
SHE SIGHS

Miss Mercer.

She has a standing order
at a florist in Knightsbridge.

CROW CAWING

Once a month, edelweiss.

Edelweiss?

Yeah, special order. Pricey.

Where does it go, this edelweiss?

Brompton Road Cemetery.
It's her mother's grave.

CLOCKWORK WHIRRING
Beerbohm Tree.

Lillie Langtree, lily of the valley.

BELL RINGS
Ah, and what about Ayesha?

Well, you remember Sneed told her
she worked in a circus?

-Yes.
-Turned out to be true.

She was a magician's assistant,
it seems, amongst other things.

Got herself injured
doing some acrobatics,

and then gave it all up
to work for Sneed.

AUDIENCE GASPING

APPLAUSE

And she's never spoken?

No. Rossini, the circus owner,
swears it.

He rescued her from
a fire when she was a child.

Says she's dumb as a wall.

Nothing much else to report on her.

Cook, valet, bottle washer to Sneed.

She did all the grocery shopping.

Oh, but she bought a lot of muslin.

Of course she did.

How else do you think
they produce ectoplasm?

Edelweiss symbolises courage
or devotion,

which rather backs up
Miss Mercer's story

about the ordeal she and her mother
went through.

Or rather,
it backs up Miss Hopper's story.

Hopper?

Geraldine is Harrison
Hopper's daughter.

Ooh, blimey.

Can I see all those, your findings?

And what did you find out
about the victim himself?

Well, starting from the top.

Literally. His syrup of figs.

Sneed had three wigs, in fact,

each representing different
stages of length.

CHUCKLES
So he could pretend it was growing.

-He patronised Wendover's.
-Expensive.

Quite, and got his wigs
regularly attended to there.

Three syrups, all kept spruce.

So Sneed had a bit of money.

And he just got
two brand-new suits made.

More money. And yet
he didn't charge, apparently.

Underwear from Jermyn Street.

Silk, monogrammed.

WHISTLES

Well, what is it?

All these notes,
all these records...

-There's something you've missed.
-Oh?

They've been spending less.

There's been a small but significant
decrease in their spending

over the past few months,
apart from...

CLOCKWORK WHIRRING

Huh. Capital work, Nora.
BELL RINGS

Capital.

Well, that would seem
to make sense of it.

Make sense of what?

What this case appears to be about.

And what's that?

Blackmail, of course.

GABRIEL: A little case of spirits

But who has done the deed?

For blackmail is the key

To the death of Harold Sneed

Miss Mercer was Miss Hopper

Now she sits and bides her time

Has the professor told a whopper

About the motor and the crime?

The dear ladies in their velveteen

Doing good deeds for the poor

Or is something else a-lurking

Behind their saintly mission door?

Ayesha speaks no evil

Nor can she speak at all

Of the unlamented Harold Sneed

And the mystery of his fall

And what of Mrs Ada Dredge

Living well beyond her means?

Hail, Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women

and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death.

Sans son, sans cash, sans husband

Hail, Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee...

And living on her dreams

MUSIC: Blaze Away! by Abe Holzmann

WHINES

Sorry, dog. Helps me think.

RUMBLING

RUMBLING CONTINUES

BELL RINGS

CHUCKLES

We had no idea, Mr Book, that you...

you have the gift yourself.

Oh, well, I make
no great claims, ladies,

but my mother always said she could
see around corners, as it were.

Tea leaves?
Oh, you could never stop her.

Always emptying out the Darjeeling
and predicting the future,

sometimes before we'd finished
drinking it.

-Oh!
-So perhaps it's no surprise that

I've, uh,
inherited some of her gifts.

Why are we all here,
though, and what is this in aid of?

Well, we're hoping that my husband
will be able

to make contact
with Mr Sneed himself.

Oh, God help us.

Well, it's a little unorthodox,

but I have every faith
in Mr Book here.

ADA: You just wait, young man.
I have seen such wonders.

Manifestations.

Even heard the heavenly choir
itself once.

A host of angels singing in perfect,

blissful harmony, pure,
sublime, impossibly beautiful.

Oh, yeah? Where was that?

c*ck.

Sergeant Morris, if you'd be so good
as to, uh, lower the lights.

Now, let us all join hands
in the prescribed manner.

Hold with the right,
be held by the left.

BREATHES DEEPLY

Spirits, spirits, are you there?

Are you there?
EERIE VOICES WHISPERING

If so, give us a sign. Spirits.

SILENCE

-Surprise, surprise.
-Morris.

Are you there? Are you there?

The veil is lifting.

LOUD CRASH, ALL SHRIEK

Yes, they are coming through,
coming through now.

GASPING

SCOTTISH ACCENT: Oh, hello. Evening,
friends. Charming night for it.

Who's this?

♪ I'll take the high road
And you'll take the low road

♪ And I'll be in Scotland afore ye ♪

Oh, it's Harry Lauder.

-It's Sir Harry Lauder.
-Blimey.

I didn't think he was dead.

Aye, well, I have to be going now.
WHOOSHING

Oh?
WHISPERING RESUMES

BIRDSONG

Oh! Listen!

Oh, they're the...
dear, dear things.

SCOUSE ACCENT: Strotford?
Strotford, is that you?

Um, yes.

I'm so proud of you, darling.
Doing very well, aren't you?

I can still see you now, with
your little blue pinafore dress,

always rushing around.

You always had time for my suet
and custard, didn't you?

Oh! That's my Auntie Winnie.
I know it.

That was her favourite recipe.
She always...

WHOOSHING, VOICES WHISPERING

So we are all gathered again.

Oh, it's him.

It's Mr Sneed. Oh, poor soul.

I hope you are at peace now.

All is well, dear lady.
I bear no ill will to anyone.

Death was a release.
VOICES WHISPERING

A release?

From the guilt.

What do you mean?

My crimes,
what I was doing to you all.

ADA GASPS

SHRIEKING Great heavens!

A man... A manifestation!

Take my hand, dear lady.

Let me feel an earthly touch
one last time.

GASPING What the hell?

Sorry for the charade.

GASPING

I thought it the best way to explain
to you how you've been deceived,

how you've all been deceived.

It was a parlour trick,
as I've said all along.

Like that. Nora?

Clever little thing,
old trick of Houdini's.

This is how it's usually done.

RATTLING

I just use my knee.

Presto, no mystery.

The lights are lowered,
we all join hands,

I do a bit of judicious
heavy breathing

and give the impression
of being in a trance,

throw in a bit of celebrity...

Apologies, I thought
Sir Harry Lauderwasdead.

And off we go.

Sorry so shamelessly to use
your aunt's suet pudding, Trottie,

but it served as an easy example.

The medium simply gathers as much
intelligence as possible

about the people around the table,
and the rest is guesswork.

But we all had our hands joined.
How did you...

Another trick of Houdini's.
Pliable metal.

I simply clamp it to
the wrist of the person next to me.

-When I let go, it feels as if the wrist is still being held.
-Oh, my...

And then, in the darkness,

the medium's hand is free
to do whatever they like,

including shoving
a luminous rubber glove

onto the end of their foot.

Voila. The cold,
dead hand of the spirit.

ADA SIGHS And then, down there,

a useful way of turning off
the lights.

This is all very well, Book,

but it doesn't tell us
who k*lled Harold Sneed.

Oh, but it does, Inspector, it does.

That was the moment it happened,

that the unbroken circle was
briefly interrupted,

leaving someone free to stick the
dagger into Harold Sneed's chest.

But who?

Everyone present at that seance
had been very carefully chosen.

Because they were
being blackmailed?

Yes. Something Sneed said to me...

All I offer is a little comfort,
a little hope. My clients...

Your customers.

Well, hardly. I don't charge.
CLOCKWORK WHIRRING

BELL RINGS

They see me as a... a confidant.

Uh, a father confessor, if you will.

All those little secrets
Sneed's sitters let slip, harvested.

Perfect fodder for the seances,
of course,

but also for blackmailing them.

Blackmailing people like
Professor Chopra.

BRAKES SCREECHING

Lakshme?

TYRES SQUEAL

Lakshme? Lakshme?

Lakshme!

SOBBING Lakshme!

Oh, my sweet...

GABRIEL: Remember what he said
at the interview?

The police said
they could do nothing.

The driver?

There were no witnesses,
so it was impossible to trace her.

BELL RINGS

"Her". He said "her".

There were no witnesses.

How did the professor know
the driver was a woman?

All those trips you made
to Scotland, Professor.

To visit the scene of the crime
or to track down the driver?

The driver whom only you had
seen. Nora?

Newspaper cutting from six months
after your daughter's accident.

"Death of the Honourable
Jane Clement."

Someone sabotaged
the brakes of her sports car.

GABRIEL: I did a little digging.

She lived near to your holiday home
at the time in question.

BLISS: Oh, you think that...

Do you think the professor
tracked her down and...

took the law into his own hands?

You have no proof.

No, I have no proof.

Next, Emelia and Clara Plumchute.
Charming ladies.

But with a secret?
You're getting the idea.

You see, after we lost Teddy...
In the w*r.

-The previous w*r.
-The Great w*r.

-The w*r to end all wars. -Oh.
-Oh, the horrible irony of that.

If any of us had known...
How could we had known?

That a few wretched years later...
it would all happen again.

And poor Teddy's sacrifice...
All for nothing.

Jack, remember what I said to you
outside the homeless mission?

-No.
-Oh.

But I did write it down.
You're learning.

"Handiwork as distinctive as
the brushwork of an old master."

-Whose handiwork?
-Harold Gillies.

The plastic surgeon?

Theplastic surgeon.

GABRIEL: Pioneered
reconstructive surgery

for hundreds of men coming home
from the Western Front.

But your brother didn't come home,
did he? He was k*lled. Oh.

EMELIA: That's what we needed...
we needed everyone to believe.

Uh, poor Teddy.

EMELIA: He deserted, you see.

We had no choice.
We took him in or...

He'd have been shot...
ex*cuted... for cowardice.

You've been sheltering him
all these years?

GABRIEL: And giving
the poor old soldier

a measure of dignity
via his cavalry twill.

And Sneed knew this?

Evidently.

What about Mrs Dredge?
CLOCKWORK WHIRRS

ADA SOBBING

CLOCKWORK WHIRRS

It wasn't an accidental overdose.
She... she did him in?

GABRIEL: No. It was suicide.

"Did I do the right thing?"

Mrs Dredge's own words at the seance.

Alf deliberately drank too much of
the morphine.

And all I did was...
Was to remove the suicide note.

Alf had been writing that night,
hence his inky fingers.

You see, Alf Dredge was a fervent
Roman Catholic and suicide is a...

A mortal sin.

It didn't take too much effort
to discover that

the Dredges' local priest was
something of a tartar,

a real stickler.

Mrs Dredge was attempting to cover up
her son's suicide as an accident,

because otherwise, poor Alf would
never lie in consecrated ground

next to her late husband.

More than that. That...
that bugger, Father Jessup,

he would have dug Alf up
if he'd known.

And I'd always taken great succour
from my spiritualism,

and I thought, through Mr Sneed,

that I got in touch
with Alf's spirit.

And then the notes started
to arrive? Blackmail notes?

Yes.
SIGHS

It was obvious whoever sent
them knew what had happened.

And then Sneed rang,
confirming the next seance.

He made it very clear that
I would meet my blackmailer there

and that there would be revelations.

It was a very different
atmosphere that time.

Everyone was guarded, tense.

And after Sneed's death,
before the police arrived,

there was some kind of chat?

This is just my supposition,
of course,

but I wonder if there wasn't
a meeting of minds,

a realisation
you were all in it together.

A realisation that Sneed was
blackmailing you all.

I'm going to take a risk,

but I think perhaps
that all of us here tonight

have something in common.

Is that not so?

You mean we're all clients?
Clients of Mr Sneed?

Oh, poor Mr Sneed!
GASPS

Rather more than that, I think.

The usual form
was invitation by post.

This time,
I received a telephone call.

GASPS

VED: I see I was not alone.

Everyone had had a letter,
a blackmail letter.

-All except.
-You.

-You hadn't?
-I hadn't.

I said we should all keep quiet,

not breathe a word to the police.

Well, after all, if we were
all being blackmailed...

Things could get rather sticky
with the peelers.

Sound advice, though it has
complicated matters somewhat.

Hey, you don't, you...
CLOCKWORK WHIRRING

You don't think they all did it,
do you?

I'm afraid that kind of thing
only happens in novels, Inspector.

No, the k*ller's aim
was to obfuscate,

to cloud the crime
with as many motives as possible

and then point the finger
very specifically

at Geraldine Hopper.

Fingerprints of a dead man.

Impossible, of course.

The k*ller knew that we'd very soon
find our way back to Geraldine,

daughter of a notorious
ex*cuted n*zi.

She was to be put in the frame,
and in good time,

for her to be hanged for it.

BLISS: But who by?

GABRIEL: Who was sitting
directly opposite Harold Sneed?

Who had the requisite skills?

Who knew precisely who to invite
to the seance on that fatal night,

using the telephone for once?

Out of a job, aren't I?

PAGES FLUTTERING,

BELL RINGS

Ayesha Jean-Baptiste
learned a great deal

from that magician
she assisted in the circus.

Acrobatics, high-wire walking, and...

knife throwing.

HIGH-PITCHED: universal,
never-ending peace and joy.

Oh, the connection is fading.

Oh, it fades.

Oh, bless you...

GASPS

ALL GASP AND SHRIEK

Oh, well.

ALL GASPING AND WHISPERING

LAUGHS You can talk.

Oh, course I can bloody well talk.
CHUCKLES

But wh... why pretend you can't?

She wasn't pretending.

Aphasia voluntaria.

BLISS: Huh?
It's a psychological term.

People who have suffered some trauma,

such as nearly perishing in
a big top blaze,

use not speaking as a way of
controlling their environment,

of having a measure of control.

Came in pretty useful,
too, for the job, I imagine.

No one would suspect complicity.

I could stand silently
in the shadows...

overhearing everyone's secrets
in their private moments.

Making sure Harold got to know them,

and how to use them.

What a clever old bugger he was.

You were more than just an employee,
though, weren't you?

A tender touch, brusquely fended off.

Could have been evidence
of a lovers' tiff.

But rather more, I thought?
Rather more.

Once upon a time, I loved him.

He took me in after my accident.

Gave me a living, encouraged me.

Even got me talking.

The first words I decided
to utter were...

"I love you."

You did the voices of the dead?

The ones he couldn't get away
with, yeah.

And the bird whistles.

Look, I know how all
the tricks are done, Mr Book.

But I'm better at it than he was.

And I know where
all the bodies are buried.

Literally.

He was so sure of himself,

of his control of me.

It blinded him.

He didn't even notice that the list
of patrons to the last seance

was rather a special one,

till he came out
from behind that curtain.

All the people he was blackmailing.

Oh, no.

Not all, sir. Just the juiciest
ones, only the prize pigeons.

I called them all up in my best...

AS HAROLD: Harold Sneed voice.

Prize pigeons like Geraldine?

EveryonebutGeraldine.
Isn't that right, Ayesha?

What a story she had.

She told Sneed about it, you see,

when they were getting cosy.

Hmm, I wondered.
The new clothes, the new wigs.

Sneed's eye had wandered elsewhere.

His eye.

His hands.

His... everything.

He'd set his cap
at Miss Hopper there.

I was to be thrown aside
like a dish rag.

He told me in no uncertain terms
that it was over.

Miss Mercer...

Miss Hopper was to be his.

I would have to go.

Now, he didn't blackmail her,

but I knew her secret.

I knew all about her father.

No, I knew nothing of this.
Nothing. You must believe me.

My God, you would have let me hang.

Eh.

Read about the relics
here at the museum, too.

What could be more fitting
than for my dearest Harold

to be m*rder*d
by her father's ghost?

GABRIEL: Very neat.

Two birds k*lled with one stone.

Ayesha Jean-Baptiste,

I'm arresting you
on suspicion of m*rder.

ALL EXCLAIM

Oh, hell's bells.

CLICK

ALL SHRIEKING

Can do a lot of damage
with this peashooter.

ADA WHIMPERS

Remember, it was a lady's g*n
that did for Lincoln.

It's not loaded.

Will it be loaded?

g*n CLICKS, ALL SHRIEK

ALL EXCLAIMING

ELECTRICITY CRACKLING

-Morris. -It's this way, sir!
-Hurry up.

Well, I think Mr Kendall might have
redeemed himself, Inspector.

Don't you think?

KENDALL CHUCKLES Mm!

BIG BEN RINGS

CROWS CAWING

ADA: Well, I've decided.

Once me money comes in,
I'm going into trade.

Mr Basehart here has done me
the honour of...

Oh!..asking me to run
a newsagent's with him.

Oh, how nice.

-I've always had a hankering to run a little shop.
-Mm.

So we're going to pool
our resources.

Just hope it's the right thing
to do at my time of life.

Oh, you'll be marvellous, Ada.

Won't she be marvellous?

I have no doubt.
ADA CHUCKLES

So we'll be neighbours, Mr Book.
Oh, yes?

-Mm. Thanks again, for everything. Yes.
-Not at all.

Thank you. And sorry for...

Well, you know, all the fuss.

Don't give it a second thought.
I just...

Well, I... I just hope
my Alf can rest in peace now.

Yes, indeed.

-Cheerio.
-Oh.- Cheerio.

Ah. Shall we?

CHILDREN SHOUTING HAPPILY

GABRIEL: Nora.

Very good work
with that accounts clue.

Oh, ta.

Looks like I am useful
after all, then.

Occasionally.

I should really give you
some sort of bonus.

A Chelsea bun, packet of sherbet.

Mrs Dredge and Mr Baseheart are
opening a newsagent.

Oh, I was hoping
for a fruit and veg shop.

Did I mention
I've never even had a b...

BELL RINGS
Don't make yourself sick.

And go easy on your Uncle Yusuf, too.

Just give him time, all right?

SHE SNIFFS

BASEHEART CHUCKLES

REGGIE: Good grief, what a tale.

You had rather a lucky escape,
I think, Colonel.

-Reggie, please.
-Reggie.

What do you mean?

Well, I hope there aren't any
skeletons lurking in your cupboard.

CHUCKLES

SIGHS

Let's talk about something nicer.

Yes, let's.

You.

-Me?
-Mm. Tell me about you.

Oh, what's to tell?

Um, my Christian name is awful.

That's a funny name.
SHE CHUCKLES

So everybody calls me Trottie.
I have a shop in Archangel Lane.

-Archangel? -Off Charing Cross.
-Strotford Selections.

-Selections of what?
-Wallpaper.

Oh! Strotford.

-LAUGHS Is that the awful name?
-It is.

Well, perhaps I should call
you Awful.

SHE CHUCKLES Are you awful?

Occasionally.

I was rather hoping you'd say that.

How long have you been married?

Hm. Ten years.

It was during the Spanish Civil w*r,
in fact.

CHUCKLES

You intrigue me.

Do you have secrets?

We all have secrets.

You can rely on my discretion.

Can I?

You'll forgive me,
but, uh, I scarcely know you.

Well, that's the point
of taking tea together, isn't it?

The most British way there is
of getting to know someone.

I suppose so.

So the question is, Mrs Book...

Yes?

One lump or two?

CAR HORN BLARES

TROTTIE CHUCKLES

a bonus.

REGGIE AND TROTTIE LAUGH

Absolutely.

Oh.

Surprised?

No, no.

I know how you people like
to rotate personnel, like crops.

CHUCKLES

In fact, your whole department has
a whiff of the 18th century.

Wasn't that known as
the Age of Enlightenment?

Speaking of which,
can you do it? Can you get us in?

-Us?
-Me and the boy.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course,
the prodigal grandson.

Well?

You know,
these things are terribly difficult.

I've inherited a very full diary.

Can you get us into Germany?

After all, you lot started all this,
didn't you?

PAPER RUSTLING

Well...

Yes, we still have to dot
the I's and cross the T's,

but yes, there's a way.

Thank you.

Of course, there's no such thing
as a free lunch.

CHUCKLES

Shall we?