01x05 - Snuff

[bunniefuu]

(dark music)

- There's a Yank in town.

Photograph collector

of some sort.

- [Harry] This here

is Bushrad Whacker.

- All right, Harry.

I'll buy it.

- Gentlemen, Molloy is one

hell of a photographer,

and there's big money in

ghost photography in America.

- You can use one

of my old cameras.

And I think I'll

come along with you.

- Eva Lambert, a very

well-known medium.

- [All] To the dead.

- Show yourself to us!

(shrieking)

- Make this stop, you witch!

(g*nsh*t fires)

(all shouting)

(groaning)

- We're frauds, Molloy.

Nancy, I saw--

- [Man] You took their album

- What's this?

A black rose.

- [Conall] I think you may

have caught my heart off guard.

- Can you see those faces?

(solemn unsettling music)

- All right, Roper.

What have we got?

- A suicide.

- And?

- He's recently widowed,

can't go on without the missus.

So he ends it.

It's tragic but it makes sense.

- Strange of him not to

put a b*llet in his head.

Huh?

Considering the

state of these walls.

Seems like they were

in plentiful supply.

- Oh yeah.

They make you wonder all right.

- Seems like a right little

gathering they had here.

- There was a man

spotted running from here

shouting to himself,

seems agitated.

Sounds like that American

you had me tailing.

- Why do you have Farrelly

tailing some American?

- Because I had a report

that an American called Whacker

was collared in

Liverpool for trading

in obscene cabinet cards,

and I trust Farrelly

to do a tolerable job,

if that's the real

point of your question.

- Whacker is a known associate

of both Cannon and Emil Chorney.

- Oh now, Harry,

don't you be jumping

with the mad

conclusions and all.

Can we not just work

with what we have?

- All I know is that a group

of well-known associates

drop like flies, and I don't

think it's a coincidence

that's dropping them.

(tense music)

(tense dramatic music)

(clears throat)

(clapping)

- Why are you both

sleeping there?

- Nothing untowards

happened, Uncle.

- Well I'd assume so.

Wouldn't think you so stupid

as to vacate a comfortable bed.

- Uh, yes.

How are you?

- Well, generally worse.

- I'm so sorry I stayed, sir.

I was in no fit

state to walk home.

- That's perfectly

all right, my boy.

We were all incapacitated

by those conwomen.

- Uncle, your wall.

- My wall?

- Yeah, in your study.

(whistles) Jeez that was

some job, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- You both saw it?

- It's quite the

collection, sir.

- I'm sure it does look

a little bit strange.

- Yes.

Well it is strange.

- So strange.

- Well I can assure you,

it's just a collection

of some of my

favorite portraits.

Nothing untoward.

- But they're facing your chair.

- Yeah, like they're

watching over you

with their dead eyes on you.

- And you wanted us

to bring you up there

to specifically look at it.

- It's all right.

Enough now.

- And you were

talking to the wall--

- Enough now, Nancy.

Please.

Now, let's get back

to the grindstone.

Better hurry up or we'll be

late for that appointment.

See you over there.

- We all behaved so

oddly, didn't we?

- Yeah, just like

we were raving mad.

Weren't we?

- Well, have fun.

I'm going back to bed.

- Hope you're fit for

work today, Molloy.

We've got a long

drive ahead of us.

- Yeah, I'm grand.

- Well I'm glad to see you

two are alive this morning

because there's one

fellow who isn't.

Word on the street is

Mr. Cannon was found dead

by his own hand last night.

(tense music)

- Oh Jesus, your

nephew's associates

certainly seem a

doomed bunch, sir.

- Well, if you lie with dogs.

- We're running low.

- Well you may get more supplies

before we go to Athlone.

- Why do you never

go out and get them?

Why's it always me

traipsing about the place?

- Because I'm the bleeding

Ghost Queen, aren't I?

I have to keep a bit

of mystery about me.

- Punters don't know

which one of us is which.

Daddy always said the

way to keep the act fresh

was to alternate.

- Yeah well, Daddy's

still stalking Mountjoy,

so what the f*ck does he know?

(knocking at door)

(tense music)

- One second!

(pounding at door)

Won't be another second now!

Now, look where your

over-eagerness nearly got you.

- Don't worry, Roper.

You fall for their sh*t once,

you won't fall for it again.

Believe me.

I do my research, girls.

You do too, I'm sure.

Digging deep into the background

of everyone that

attends your seances.

- Just handy to

put names to faces.

- I'm sure.

I read a report on

this seance in Kilkenny

where every last person

was plagued with visions

after drinking some

sort of concoction.

- Our line of

business does attract

a few bon viveurs,

it must be said.

- And then there was

the seance in Tullamore

last February, when people

found themselves relieved

of their personal belongings.

- And robbers, too.

Bon viveurs and robbers, yeah.

They love us.

- I wouldn't be one known

for coincidences, girls.

- Detective, there

are many things

far beyond your comprehension.

Doesn't mean they don't happen.

- What I can't comprehend is

why this Whacker

fellow shot up the room

for no reason.

- Oh no. (laughing)

He had a reason.

He was seeing

spirits, wasn't he?

Some fellow he

m*rder*d, he said.

- He m*rder*d a fellow?

- Back in America.

And it was the ghost that

this fellow tormenting him

on account of us

summoning the ghost.

- Oh yeah.

Course you did.

- Yes, we did.

Like we said we would.

And then we escaped.

- So you leave.

Who's left?

- The fellow who hired us.

Henry Vickers.

Then the host, the

late Mr. Cannon.

And then the photographers.

- Photographers?

- Oh Jesus, here we go.

- Yes, we've had a lot of bother

with poxy photographers of late.

- A pain and a half.

- Gee, not now, girls.

Sure everything you do is real?

- Yes.

It is.

- More so that they

get in the way.

They're very welcome to

photograph if they want.

We've nothing to hide.

- Who were the photographers?

- It was a young fellow.

He was from Dublin.

And then an older man,

and a younger woman.

An uncle and sister

to Mr. Vickers.

- Is that right, now?

- At least have a drink.

- Uh--

- No.

- Got it, yeah.

Got it here, lad.

- So you don't think

that there's something

quite dangerous that we've

accidentally been caught up in?

- Molloy, do not be foolhardy.

And before you

deliver what I'm sure

is a tremendously

passionate repost, don't.

We take photographs.

And you've been doing a

very admirable job of it.

- Despite the fact you

didn't want me to take

a photograph of your mother.

- No, you weren't

my first choice, no.

- You know, you should

have just trusted me

with the information

and been honest with me.

Stop making a fool out of me.

- I think you misunderstood.

I just didn't want to

subject a nice chap like you

to my wretched siblings.

- That's reassuring.

- Reason I'm the best at my job

is because I don't

question tragedy.

(dark solemn music)

- [Ossie] The lack

of bruising indicates

there wasn't a struggle.

More so, I reckon whatever

Mr. Cannon had imbibed

had him very relaxed altogether.

- So, they're all polluted,

there's a bit of argy-bargy,

and Mr. Cannon is upset.

And then he kills himself?

- Well, the throat

was slit cleanly

and methodically

from ear to ear.

- What a bloody waste of time.

- Hold on, Bill.

Ossie, the matter of

the wound, though.

It'd be a hard job to

pull off on himself?

- Well, you'd be surprised.

- Plenty of men done

worse to themselves.

- Shh!

Ossie, now what do you reckon?

- The knife was in his right

hand when it was found,

like you had noted, Ronnie.

The movement of the

knife is consistent

with Mr. Cannon

cutting his own throat

from left to right.

- But if he didn't do it--

- Then who did it?

Fred?

- Well he's gonna say

the k*ller photographer.

Just wait for it.

Wait, and--

- Well, no.

Well stop now.

This is it lads.

Dan, this was a very

well-controlled cut,

and Mr. Cannon was

not only intoxicated,

he was left-handed.

- I'm telling you, Bill.

- Murders made to

look like suicides.

- If Mr. Cannon

cuts his own throat

that quick and that clean,

in the seated position

he was found in,

there'd be a fair

old spurt of blood

from the corroded artery.

- And there was traces of

blood nowhere on the floor,

only on himself.

- This is what

you think happened

up in Dublin Castle, too?

- I am just focusing

on Mr. Cannon,

because I think we all agree

that there's something

off with this one.

- You think there's some sick

b*stard out there doing this?

- If there is,

he's right-handed,

tidy enough with a blade,

and wearing a coat

he doesn't mind

getting a bit of blood on.

- Right.

Find the American.

Bring him in.

Someone knows what

happened in that house.

(tense dramatic music)

(slow solemn music)

(birds chirping)

(groaning loudly)

(shrieks)

- What's the matter?

- He's still alive.

- Yes.

That's why I asked

you to come quickly.

- Well I do apologize.

A complete misunderstanding

on my part.

- Can we hurry?

- Yes, yes certainly.

Molloy?

- Does that happen often, sir?

- Yeah, more than

you might think.

Did you bring your new camera?

- Yeah.

- Oh, great.

It's easy to make a mistake

considering the amount of poison

that's in you from last night.

- The other camera box.

Where is it?

- Well, it's,

it's in my study, I think.

- I think I might have

put something in there.

Something I found whenever

I left the seance.

- What did you find?

- I just, I could've

imagined it.

You know how you imagined seeing

your old assistant last night?

- Yes.

- It's a photo album.

- What sort of photo album?

- It's like death photography.

It's like your kind

of photography.

- My kind of photography?

- Yeah, but it's

a bit more, um--

- Murderous?

- Yes.

- We need to hurry, Molloy.

Make haste, Carruthers.

- Mr. Bennerhasset?

It would be nice, I think,

to get a cabinet card done.

- Yes, that'll be

no work at all.

- Something I can put

on the mantelpiece

for when George

has gone his way.

- Oh, I know,

I know as well.

That'll be no problem

at all, Mrs. Harrison.

I'll get it all sent on to you.

Maybe you should spend

some time with George

before he slips away.

- Yeah.

- Oh, there he is now.

- George!

You shouldn't be out of bed.

Get back at once.

- [Brock] Quick as

you like, Molloy?

- In a hurry, sir?

- Yes.

I feel like some

trouble's coming our way.

We need to get home posthaste.

- That tone was

same as years ago.

- Possibly.

And it feels like

somebody's toying with me.

Now, Carruthers, I

need you to be vigilant

until I figure out

how to deal with this.

Now don't whisper

to it to a soul.

- Not a soul, sir.

- I can't believe it.

- Dreadful business.

Cannon was a decent skin.

- Honestly, Percy.

They had us seeing all sorts.

Who knows what poor Louis

saw before he ended it.

- Well, he was a fiend for the

old mind-altering substances.

You'd think he'd be

well abled for it.

And Henry too.

Where is he?

- Oh, some dive I presume.

I don't know if he

knows about Louis.

- You've been getting

yourself into a lot

of dangerous situations for

a girl who's new to town.

- I'm a grown woman, Percy.

- That's very naive behavior

on these city streets, Nancy.

- I can walk around

perfectly fine,

unescorted, thank you.

- Can you though?

Getting kidnapped

in whorehouses?

Shot at at a bloody seance?

- Well look at me now.

I seem somewhat alive, don't I?

- Silly girl.

- What did you say?

- I said you're silly

for putting yourself

in such danger, are you not?

- Silly?

I suppose I'd have to be

hanging about with impotent

wastrels like yourself.

Yes, I think I'm

right bloody fool.

- Mind your tone!

(knocking at door)

- Apologies.

But no one was

answering the front door

and well it's a matter

of some importance.

- Oh bollocks.

- You're not the first

woman to greet me like that,

Miss Vickers, and I know

you won't be the last.

- Sorry, detective.

I've had a rough day

full of vexing men.

I think it's time for

you to disappear, Percy.

Write me an apology

letter if you want.

I'll reply if I

haven't been m*rder*d.

- Go easy on her, detective.

She has a bit of a

mood on her today.

- Off you go now, Percy,

like a good little man.

Try not to hurry too much.

- Seems like a lovely chap.

- What do you want, detective?

- Were you in the late Mr.

Cannon's house last night?

- Come on.

Might as well make a

tea party out of this.

(playful music)

- You do a decent scone up here.

Not as good as a

cork scone, though.

Right.

Ms. Vickers.

You've been involved in a lot

of police business of late.

- Well, detective.

It just so happens that a

lot of police businesses

involve death and

photography of late.

- Mm-hmm.

And was this studio

hired to take photographs

at the seance?

- Molloy was.

Henry and Louis hired him.

They wanted to get in on

that spirit photography fad

with that American fellow.

- Mr. Whacker's been

involved in a growing

black market of

peculiar photography?

Your brother must have

been trying to make

a handy few bob.

Where's he?

- Not quite sure, detective.

- Suspicious timing, though.

All the same.

And where's Mr.

Molloy and your uncle?

- Do you want our

professional assistance

or do you suspect

us of something?

- I'm just trying to

get their perspective

on what happened that night

at Mr. Cannon's.

I see if their theories

tie up with mine.

- And how are those theories

going down in Dublin Castle?

- Not great for

the longest time,

but it's turning

into something now.

- Just not the whole picture.

- No.

Not quite, not yet.

Well tell me this.

Did you ever come

across an example

of a black rose used in

memorial photography?

As like some sort of

a photographic prop?

- No.

- You wouldn't lie to me

about any of this, would you?

- No, I wouldn't.

- Very well, Miss Vickers.

Thanks for your

time, and the scone.

I may have to call back later

to chat to your uncle.

- Of course.

- Oh, and I want you to know

if any of this develops

into something worse,

don't regret that you stood back

and watched it happen.

(dark suspenseful music)

(sighs)

- Go on.

Go on.

- Your nephew told me

that he found the album

from some secret society

in the Wicklow Mountains.

- Obviously not very

secret if Henry's involved.

- Then Whacker was keen

on it, and bought it,

then I found it and pocketed it

like a f*cking idiot.

- [Brock] And no one's seen

you take it from the seance?

- I don't think so, no.

- Well, if Regan's

idea is right,

then hypothetically the

person who k*lled Cannon

was looking for the album.

- And he did the

same thing to a man

being held in Dublin Castle.

- Well if they

knew we were there,

then Nancy and your

mother and your sister

may not be safe.

- Don't tell me that.

We're an hour from Dublin.

- You're the idiot that

left it in my house.

- I know, but I

didn't know I took it.

Honestly, look I was

in such a bad way.

I'm sorry, sir.

- Is it horrific?

- Yeah, they don't look

terribly fake Mr. Blennerhasset.

- Then we must destroy it.

- Well we have to

take it to the police.

- No.

- No?

- No, Molloy.

There's a better way

to deal with this.

- But what if

Regan's right, sir?

Why can't we give

the album to them?

It's evidence, is it not?

- These photographs.

Do they look like mine?

(dramatic music)

- So where is Henry?

- He's hiding at an

apartment in Queen Square.

- Does he know

that Louis is dead?

- That's why he's hiding at

the apartment in Queen Square.

- What have they got

themselves caught up in, Hanna?

- Henry wouldn't say, exactly.

But he took something

from some people

and the people are very

keen to get it back.

- Do you think Louis was k*lled?

- But why?

I mean, I know they're

all degenerates,

but essentially

they're harmless.

- Well someone doesn't think so.

- Those boys.

They can't do anything

without making a

c*ck of bothers.

- I wanted to live in town

for a bit of excitement.

This is just too much.

- Well I've told you.

If you let men

with horrible taste

dictate your social life,

then you'll end up in

the worst situation.

Believe me, I woke up in hobbles

that were chilled to the bone.

- That would suit me fine.

I just don't like m*rder.

- Well, you're doing a

good job of it so far.

No matter what Percy says.

- Ugh, another feckless clown

looking for a distraction.

- Well at least he's

a bit of excitement

you can do without.

Unlike me, I'm stuck

with that bloody fool

of a brother of yours.

- Do you think it's all

right if I visited him?

- You'll be lucky if he

opens the door to you.

- Don't worry, I have my ways.

(tense dramatic music)

- I f*cking knew it was

you all along, Abel White.

I know who was behind it.

- No, hold on.

Stop.

Don't ruin it for me, girl.

I'm warning you.

- Hurry your arse up, so.

I want to read the next chapter.

- I won't be reading it tonight

so you may hold your horses.

- Is that a good yarn, Betty?

- A bit too good,

Farrelly if you get me.

The housework has been

neglected, to say the least.

I'm managing to keep

the child alive, though.

- Don't mind her, Farrelly.

She's only messing.

The housework was never

up to much anyway.

(laughing)

- Well you're not just

reading yourself, no?

- We have a rule there.

We read one chapter each

and then pass it over.

We tried reading

pages at the same time

but I get very impatient

waiting for him to catch up.

- Give over.

I like to scan them for details.

- Who solves them the most?

That's right, I

solve them the most.

- Only because you've

been jumping on my leads.

- He said you're the best

detective he knows, ma'am.

- Wasn't exactly an avenue

opening itself up to me

but look, I'll take

it where I can get it.

- Dublin Castle is not

in our kitchen, boy.

- Anyway look, time

is of the essence here

so will you make it back to it?

Where are we at?

- Whacker is still managing

to give us the slip.

Traced him back to his legends

but still no sign of him.

- I thought there is a sign.

He's got something to hide.

- No, something doesn't

sit right though.

(tense music)

Why would a man

waste all his b*ll*ts

sh**ting up the house

then turn around and m*rder

a fellow with a knife?

- Well I'm afraid you

might as well ask why a man

would make it look

like a suicide

if he just wanted

to m*rder a fellow.

- Hmm.

- Some years ago, I had

trouble with an assistant

who subsequently

committed suicide

after he'd sent a letter

accusing me of things.

- What kind of things?

- It's not relevant.

What is relevant is

when I was interviewed

by the police, they

were so aggressive

that it's made me suspicious

of them ever since.

- What's that got

to do with this?

- This assistant

he, I allowed him to

introduce a motif into my work.

Black rose.

- Who else knows about the rose?

- No one.

I don't know anyone

else who uses this

in their work.

- Well tell Regan that, then.

- Do you honestly think

that Regan's gonna believe

your story of how

you found the album?

An assistant to a man

who takes photographs

of dead people?

- You think they're

gonna suspect us?

- Yes.

I do.

And that's why no one

should ever see this album.

Look, whoever's using this,

they're attaching it to

my work for some reason.

- To frame you?

- I don't know.

But Molloy, this could ruin us.

We're implicated the longer

we hold onto this album.

And the longer we

hold onto this album,

our loved ones are in danger.

And that is why we

must destroy it.

(tense somber music)

- [Man] Morning, ma'am.

(knocking)

- Nancy.

Yes, I knew it was you

because of our knock.

It's our old knock, remember.

When we were children.

If you'd asked me to do

it I wouldn't be able to

for the bloody life of

me, but once I heard it

I knew it was you.

Okay, come in.

Come in.

Oh sausages.

Jeez I'm a devil

for a good sausage.

You're a savior, Nancy.

- Mother's looking for you.

She's worried.

- Oh, don't worry about her.

She's always worried when

we're out of her grasp.

Look at the two of us now,

living the great

life in town, huh?

You'll have some

sausages, you will?

- Henry, what are

you caught up in?

- Some ketchup now would

be the right sauce, huh?

- [Nancy] Henry.

- Hmm?

You'll have a sausage, you will?

- Yes of course

I'll have a sausage.

Now, are you going to

tell me what's going on?

- Some serious

bloody shenanigans,

let me tell you Nancy.

We got in with Whacker, see.

That's where it all started.

He contacted Louis

prior to coming here

about some publication man.

Anyway, turns out he was a devil

for the firewater,

so we all head out

on Monday night he says he's

meeting an art collector

up in a house in the

Wicklow Mountains,

and would we come?

So I said why not?

We're all roaring

drunk at this stage.

Where's the harm?

So we all head up to the house

in the Wicklow Mountains,

and it's a lively night.

Lively.

You can imagine the scenes.

You might be able to

refer it, yourself

if you get a few more

parties under your belt.

- Henry, what did you do?

- I stole a photograph

album full of pictures

of people being

tortured and m*rder*d.

I know, I know.

I thought it was absolutely

gas crack at the time.

(tense music)

- Who are these people, Henry?

(sighs)

- Who are they?

I don't know, some

sort of secret society.

Nothing bloody

secret about them,

unless bumbling

in the front door

and then leaving

these photographs

all over the blasted place.

- They kick you out?

- No, not at first, no.

They seemed quite

pleasant at the start,

which was quite strange,

you know, maybe a bit theatrical

or sort of thing, and I

just thought they were

being odd for the

sake of being odd.

(panting)

We shouldn't have

been there, Nancy.

And all that probably

would have been fine,

but then I went and

made things worse.

It's always me making a

bloody pig's ear of things.

- You're being too hard

on yourself, Henry.

- No Nancy, you

don't understand.

Whacker told me that

those pictures were real.

They weren't fake

or manufactured.

These people had

employed someone

to take pictures of people

who had crossed them.

These are a very different

breed of bad, Nancy.

They have influence.

I don't know how,

but they have ways

of making people

do things for them.

- But why do something

as grotesque as this?

- Because it's something

that's never been done before.

Because they can.

Look after yourself now, Nancy.

- You too, Henry.

- No, I really mean it though.

You have to look after yourself

til all this dies down.

- Well, so do you.

Try to get back home

as soon as you can.

Or go back to mother's

for a few days.

A slightly safer way

to live in dread.

- Yes, but I've organized a

meeting with Whacker later,

see if he can call off the dogs.

- Be discrete.

You have a tendency to

be very not discrete.

- Don't worry about me.

I can be a devil when

the fat's in the fire.

- Farewell.

(tense music)

- Violets and lilies

of every sort.

Wildflowers!

- Flowers.

- Ah, an American.

Is it wallflowers

you're looking for, sir?

- Just give me the

damn flowers, woman.

- In there.

- Did you tell Maud about the

thing about the wallflowers.

- I couldn't remember

what flowers you told me.

Does it matter?

- No, no.

Not really, I suppose.

Were you followed?

- I don't know.

It's one of those

days where it seems

like everybody's watching you.

Where's the album?

- What do you mean

where's the album?

You have the album.

- Oh, goddammit.

Well, somebody stole

it at Cannon's house.

What about your

uncle, your sister?

- What would they want with it?

- Those things are like

Caravaggios of photography.

Very lucrative.

All you had to do is behave,

and no, you're a

god damn amateur.

- Obviously, yes.

But this got very serious

all of a sudden, Whacker.

- Could have made a

fortune if you f*ck

hadn't ruined me.

- You shouldn't have

bloody brought us, then.

- Well I don't know my way

around rural f*cking

Wicklow, do I?

- Violets!

- I'm finding that album.

- Have you gone

absolutely mad, man?

Leave well enough alone!

- Violets, I said!

- I'm getting the hell out

of this godforsaken country.

- [Maud] Violets!

- We have to let them

know we don't have it!

- Violets and roses!

- [Harry] How are you, Maud?

- Oh, Harry.

My old segocia.

What can I do for you?

- Suppose you didn't

see an American

around these parts, did you?

- Oh yeah?

Older fellow?

Looked official?

I might have.

About gone a minute now, Harry.

Shouldn't be too hard to spot.

(dark foreboding music)

- [Cecil] Whoa, stand, stand.

Whoa, stand.

- Sir, do you want

me to check inside?

- No Molloy, you go home.

Carruthers and I

will deal with this.

- What do you want

me to do, sir?

- Right, you come with me

and bring that

stick you're fond of

and whistle if you see anything.

Nancy?

Nancy!

(whistling)

Carruthers, what's wrong?

- Nothing.

- Well why did you whistle?

- Because there's nothing wrong.

- I told you to whistle

if something was wrong.

- Oh.

Sorry.

(slow tense music)

- Bloody man.

- Uncle?

How was your trip?

- Oh, well enough.

(whistling)

(door creaking slowly)

(dark ominous music)

- Lilly!

Ma!

Lilly!

Oh Jesus.

Oh thank Christ.

Where's Ma?

- She's staying with Billy.

- Was someone in here?

- Yeah.

He's gone now.

You're taking

f*cking photographs.

How dangerous can it be?

- Get your things.

- [Brock] How's Henry?

- [Nancy] Henry's

in rough shape.

- How rough?

- The same amount of

drinking as usual,

it's just sad drinking.

Ah Lilly.

You little dote.

- Well how are you, Violet?

- I don't think our

home's very safe.

Is it fine if we

stay here tonight?

- You can have my room.

- Nancy.

- I'll sleep down here.

- We'll both share

the same room, like.

- Yeah, tops and tails.

It'll be grand.

Where's the kitchen?

- Downstairs at the back.

Help yourself.

- I will, thanks.

- Home for waifs

and strays, I see.

- This photo album.

- You know about it?

- Who told you?

- Henry.

He told me all about

it, and its owner.

An organization, he said.

A very ambitious one.

- Look, whoever

commissioned this album

are very sick, dangerous people.

- Or very rich

and very powerful,

which tends to be the case

with secret societies.

- Henry took it, but they

thought Chorney had it.

Then they thought Cannon had it.

Who do they think has it now?

One of you has it?

Took it at the seance.

- Christ, look.

I stole it.

I accidentally stole it.

But it's destroyed, weren't it?

- It's true, we did.

It should put an end to

this unfortunate business.

(knocking at door)

- Away with the fairies.

- Properly poisoned.

- Off our chops.

- Lambert sisters.

Shifty wh*res.

You wouldn't be the first

person to go wilding

that maggot juice.

- Oh, I can only imagine.

- So, you were

all hallucinating,

all hell breaks loose,

and then this Whacker

fellow pulls out a g*n?

- Yeah, I had to tackle

him to the ground.

- Then we pack up our equipment.

- And left immediately.

- You said you saw someone

as we were leaving?

- Oh, that was just Carruthers.

I was merely plagued

with visions.

- You all were.

That's why it's so hard to get

a clear picture

of what happened.

- I have an idea, detective.

- You do?

- It's a theory.

These tots still

aren't quite right

from last night's shenanigans.

We should let them sleep.

Then you and I can

talk privately.

- I'd be very grateful.

- Are you going to

your study, uncle?

- No, we'll go somewhere

more appropriate, Nancy.

As I discovered,

my nephew has a little

photography ring,

got in a little too deep

with this Whacker fellow,

so some sort of manner of

quarrel broke out between them.

So shenanigans really over a

few distasteful photographs.

- Two members of

this photography ring

are now dead due to

these shenanigans.

- Oh.

Suicides, I thought?

- No, not following

that path anymore.

- Oh.

Oh, I see.

Well, your theories

on the market for this sort

of depraved photography

seem to be true.

- That photograph I poached,

the subject had a black

rose pinned on him.

- Black rose is very common

in memorial photography.

- [Frederick] Is it?

- Yes, a symbol of death.

- Or lost love.

- Yes.

- Take a photograph for

a reason, don't you?

To commemorate something.

- Well, studying the

likeness of death

gives us comfort, I suppose.

We can see what awaits us.

- Do you feel that

you capture the soul,

Mr. Blennerhasset?

- Yes I do, in a way.

Yes, I preserve the essence

of my subjects forever.

- That k*ller.

He might have the same idea.

- He might very well, you know.

The American, Mr. Whacker,

took a great interest

in photographing the dead.

In some of my work,

he said, two tintypes.

- [Frederick] How'd he get them?

- That's what I found troubling.

He said he had ways.

Then he became all incensed

and started waving a g*n around.

I think he's a man who's

not really in control

of his emotions.

- Ears are starting to

listen to me down the yard,

but I'm not sure

I trust the ears.

I think Chorney's death

was just too convenient.

- Is that what you

are, detective?

Suspicious of your colleagues?

- I just feel someone's

trying to cover something up.

Just glad it's not you.

- Why would it be me?

- Just got the sense that you

weren't being too cooperative.

- Oh, no.

Merely had nothing to offer you.

And now I see things

as you see them,

I'm happy to be of assistance.

- If it is this Whacker fellow,

murdering all these

people and covering it up,

why would you want

to commemorate that?

- Detective, I think

you sorely underestimate

the appeal of entertainment.

- Is he gone?

- Yes, and quite

happily I might add

which makes a nice change

- [Nancy] Did you

tell him everything?

- Yes, I did.

I told him of Henry's friends

and the little photography ring.

I told him.

- And the photo album, did

you tell him about that?

- I told him everything.

- I hope so, uncle.

Because it's not a buzzing bee

you're trying to evade.

People are dying.

There'd be great public

interest if this gets out,

that's for certain.

- Regan will deal

with this, as always.

I would just prefer

to take photographs.

- Did all right for

yourselves, didn't you?

(dark solemn music)

(groaning)

(muttering)

(groaning)

(man whistling)

- [Man] Henry.

They want it back.

- I sold it to Whacker, I swear.

- [Man] Where is he?

- I don't know.

- [Man] If Whacker

doesn't have it.

(foreboding music)

- Now you leave Nancy

and uncle alone.

They have nothing

to do with this.

- [Man] Liars, all of you.

(ominous music)

(groaning)

(moaning)

- No, no!

- [Brock] I don't want

Nancy to see this.

- Just don't worry.

I don't want anyone

to know I've got it.

- Just make sure it disappears.

And hopefully the rest of

this will all disappear, too.

- Yeah.

Hope so soon.

- Thank you, Molloy.

- Our employers, sir.

Want us to stop looking.

It's getting too messy.

Said they'll take care

of it themselves, now.

They said they

won't be paying us.

- [Man] It was them

who lost the album.

- I know, but I would hope sir

that this will be

an end to it, now.

- [Man] Not for me.

(eerie suspenseful music)

- Good morning, Nancy.

- Good morning, uncle.

Molloy.

- Morning, Nancy.

- So today's appointment,

it's a young child,

little Grace McCalister.

Died of virulent diptheria.

- Jeez, the poor little thing.

- Yes.

Her parents never had a

chance to have her photograph

taken while she was alive.

So Mr. and Mrs. McCalister

are expecting us at nine.

Molloy, when you were outside

did you see Carruthers?

- [Conall] Yes,

just on the buggy.

(solemn violin music)