01x04 - Spring-Heel'd Jack

[bunniefuu]

[JAZZY MUSIC]

Read it 'ere first!

Ha'penny a rag.

Motorcars in, horses out to pasture.

Read it 'ere first!

[HORSES' HOOVES]

Ha'penny a rag.

Motorcars in, horses out to pasture. There you are, sir.

Both: Thank you.

♪♪

Read it 'ere first!

[BACKGROUND MUSIC]

[CHAMPAGNE CORK]

To the future!

A bus on every street, a motorcar on every household.

Every household?

Aren't we being presumptuous?

Prophetic, my dear.

In ten years time, this streets will be flooded by motorcars. Huh-hmm.

[FOOTSTEPS COMING]

[FOOTSTEPS GOING]

[MYSTERIOUS MUSIC]

[WOMAN] What's wrong?

What does it say?

"From hell's heart, I s*ab at thee."

A thr*at?

A quote, from Moby d*ck.

There's no signature.

No.

Although, I have an inkling who sent it.

♪♪

[SNORING]

[PORTAL CLANGING]

[WINDOW OPENS]

[FLAPPING SOUNDS]

[METALLIC SCRAPING]

[TENSE AMBIANCE]

[FLAPPING SOUND]

♪♪

[FLAPPING SOUNDS]

Aaaaaaah!

[LOUD SHRIEKING]

[HE YELLS]

[HEARTBEATS]

S01E04 - Spring Heel'd Jack

Morning children!

Eat your toast, Mary.

School work?

Just a story.

Oh, really? What kind of story?

A knight battling a dragon.

Ah, to protect his kingdom?

Or perhaps, rescue his one true love from its evil clutches?

No.

He just loves k*lling dragons.

Or that...

Were you able to visit Mother yesterday?

♪♪

Yes.... um... no change, I'm afraid.

[SIGHS]

But don't worry. Tuberculosis can't stop your mother.

Not for long.

She'll be back to her old self any day now.

On your tails, to wash your hands, and tidy your rooms.

Perhaps I can read my story to her.

Well, that depends, doesn't it?

Does the knight succeed in k*lling the dragon?

Of course.

Well, then, she'll love it!

[PHONE RINGING]

Hello?

[GROOVY MUSIC]

Oh, very understated.

Houdini: I know! It needs to be flashier.

Come on, his most... incredible escape yet.

His most... hair-raising escape.

His most... heart-pounding escape.

How about death defying?

Ooh!

[BACKGROUND CONVERSATION]

Well done! You ought to consider writing!

Constable Stratton is waiting for us.

Fantastic!

♪♪

Houdini: So... how high up was he?

Seventh floor.

Doyle: Clearly not su1c1de.

You wouldn't have summoned us for a su1c1de.

Stratton: Barrett Underhill was a business man, burning with optimist.

A rising star on the burgeoning motorcar industry.

And you don't think this was a simple m*rder either, I assume?

There was a threatening note.

"From hell's heart, I s*ab at thee."

We have no idea who sent it, the doorman didn't notice anyone go up to the room, Underhill's wife was with him.

They'd been celebrating earlier, she says she slept through the whole ordeal.

And you believe her?

Sergeant Gudgett does.

Thinks it was an accident.

Says she was quite distraught.

And there was no evidence of a fight or struggle.

So why do you think we'd be helpful? Or even interested?

Or do you just wanna keep working with me?

Well, I don't know that you'd be helpful.

But I do know that you'll be interested.

Mister Gaines?

Excuse me.

These are my two associates.

Harry Houdini?

Stratton: And Doctor Arthur Conan Doyle.

I tried to get tickets for your next show, it's all sold out.

Yeah! That's because you've got the last two tickets.

Stratton: Mister Gaines?

[HOUDINI CHUCKLES]

Could you please repeat, for these two gentlemen, what you told Sergeant Gudgett about what you saw last night?

Certainly.

I was standing right over there.

It's was late. Dead quiet. Not a soul in sight.

Aaaah!

Then out of nowhere...

[FLAPPING SOUNDS]

What happened next was even stranger!

And, it was a man?

I don't know! God only knows but... whatever it was... it defied gravity with that leap.

[MYSTERIOUS MUSIC]

[PHONE RINGING]

Since when did you come to believe, you have the authority, to involve these two in a case, without my approval?

I only sought their opinion, about the phantom the doorman witnessed.

What phantom?!

Wasn't worth mentioning.

Merring: And why not pray tell?

Because it's crazy! It's late, the doorman's tired, maybe he was drinking, and then... splat!

There's a dead guy on the pavement!

Houdini: The traumatised doorman looks up.

It's dark, his heart is pounding!

He sees something leaping.

The silhouette of a large bird, an owl taking flight?

Grey herons are nesting all over town.

One of 'em whitewashed my best suit on my way to church.

Ah-ha!

It was an accident.

The man was drunk, he lost his balance and he fell out of the window.

What about the threatening note slid under his door?

Houdini: Pfff.

Just coincidental?

Barrett Underhill recently sold a fleet of motorized omnibus to this city.

I'm sure there are plenty of livery stable very upset with him.

An excellent place to begin our investigation.

Your investigation?

I'm not as quick to dismiss the possibility that a crime was committed here.

Whether by human, or phantom.

The law must be upheld.

And you, if you think if was an accident, why bother joining him?

Because I too, wanna uphold the law... of physics!

Underhill was k*lled by gravity, not by some phantom defying it.

♪♪

Man: Stratton.

[DOOR CLOSES]

You'll have to get start without me, I'll join you shortly.

Why? Is something wrong?

Just a message from my pharmacist.

Some medicine I ordered has arrived. I'm going to pop off and fetch it.

Are you ill? Ah, I'm a doctor, remember. Perhaps I can help.

Just a mild catarrh. I'm fine.

Houdini: Help me out here.

Catarrh?

Excessive mucus caused by what you'd refer to as the common cold.

Did she look sick to you?

Didn't to me, not even a sniffle.

How is your wife doing?

Any update on her condition?

No, but she will be fine. I'm certain of it.

Must be tough on your kids.

We're all fine, managing... quite well. Thank you.

You know it's okay to not be fine, right?

You don't always have to keep that upper lip stiff.

Infinitely preferable to wallowing in self pity.

[SOFT MUSIC]

[SIGHS]

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

Man: Come on!

You finish it from here.

Oh, urgh!

Now, that's the hip of rubbish.

I agree! Detroit makes a far superior product.

Mr Tuttle, I'm Arthur Conan Doyle. This is Harry Houdini.

We're enquiring into the death of... Barrett Underhill.

Are you police officers?

We're working with the police, yes.

You really don't recognize me?

Picture his head. A hundred times larger.

I'm a very busy man, here.

Your livery is the largest in London, which means, you have the most to lose from Underhill's omnibuses.

Tuttle: This business has been in the Tuttle Family for 70 years.

And it'll still be here in an other 70.

Yes. You've also have been very outspoken to press.

Many of you comments about Underhill have been rather... combative.

That's no secret that I hated him.

But I had nothing to do with his death.

Tuttle: Oi!

What you up to?

Well, I thought you might like to know... they just invented this thing called the filing cabinet.

Did you send a threatening note to Mr Underhill's flat?

Nah. Of course I didn't.

I've got better things to do with my time.

Oh! What was the better thing you had to do last night?

[SUSPENSE MUSIC]

Listen, if you're police officers, I want some identification.

So, no alibi then.

And if you're not, then I want you out.

Before I throw you out.

♪♪ [PULSATIONS]

If ever Constable Stratton official presence was required.

What?

Changed my mind.

It was m*rder.

And he did it!

♪♪

[BIRDS CHEEPING]

I... borrowed this invoice from Tuttle's Livery.

Borrowed?

Mmm.

And this is the note that was slipped under the door.

Arthur: Hmm.

I may not have Adelaide's knack for handwriting analysis, but...

Arthur: There's definitely a similarity.

Tuttle wrote that note.

His business was being threatened by Underhill so he fought back!

By threatening him, then... climbing down the side of the building, and tossing him out the window.

Houdini: Come on! You saw Tuttle.

He's strong. And he's enough block and tackle to lower himself from that balustrade.

Doyle: How then did he make the huge leap to the next building?

It's eerily similar to report to the phantom who stalked these streets many years ago.

They called him Spring Heel'd Jack.

One of London's great unsolved mysteries.

Wha... Ah-ha!

Be still my fragile heart, if it ain't Europe's eclipsing sensation...

[BOTH LAUGHS]

Look what the cat coughed up!

Lyman Biggs...

[ASTONISHED] Whoa.

Toss me in the hole and carve my stone: "Here lies a blessed man to have met the great Arthur Conan Doyle"

Ha.

I've read everyone of your books. What're you working on now?

Sworn to secrecy.

Uh, say no more then. I-I'm a fellow sl*ve to the pen myself, you know?

Hearkening to the gentle muse, and such.

As a matter of fact, I've just finished my first novel. W... would you take a look?

Oh, ah...

You are a prince, Mr Doyle.

Doctor Doyle.

Biggs here writes for one of the half penny papers.

Houdini: Wrote some very flattering pieces about me.

Can't wait to write up your next show.

Lot better than the circus freaks I normally cover, yeah?

Don't get me started. [CHUCKLES]

If you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to.

Oh, a pox on me should I delay your next masterpiece.

Ah-ha... ah, shall I hold the doors?

Ah... yeah, that'd be great.

Um... what are you doing here?

I'm looking into the swan dive the carmaker took last night.

I heard rumours you were nosing with the cops.

You helping on the case?

I am.

They told me it was an accident, but the doorman I spoke to said he saw some kind of... phantom flying away.

There is no phantom!

And who's this Spring Heel'd Jack Mr Doyle mentioned just now?

Any relation to Jack the Ripper?

Case from a few years ago.

No idea.

Do you s'pose this Spring Heel'd Jack is the same phantom the Doorman saw.

You know, chucks Mr Carmaker out the window, flies off into the night.

[SHUDDERS] Scary stuff!

[CHUCKLES]

Look at me, I got chills.

There's no phantom, Biggs.

Sure, sure.

But you gotta admit... hell of a story!

No, I'm hell of a story! Just keep writing about me.

[FUNKY MUSIC]

I-I-is Spring Heel'd one word or two.

[MUMBLING] Spring-heeled. Spring heeled.

Springheeled...

[BELLS AND CHATTER]

[BIRDS CHIRPING]

Photographer: Oh, lovely!

[CHILDREN PLAYING]

Photographer: That's it

[TENSE MUSIC]

[PULSING]

...happy to see you.

Same, same.

How... how's things? How's things?

[CHUCKLES]

[CHUCKLES]

This is your card, right? Right here.

Yeah it is.

Yeah, it is. Yeah. [CHUCKLES]

Can you see it? Okay.

♪♪

Well it's there.

It's obviously there.

Where? Here? No.

But, wha..?

It's in your pocket.

Houdini: Ah, no!

Kingsley: It's in your pocket!

No! It's must have r.. It's...

It must have run away.

Where is it?

I don't know. Well, this happens all the time. You guys, we gotta find this.

Well, you better go look for it!

Where?

Go look for it! I don't know...

Wha... wha... ho... my card!

[GASPS]

How do you do that?

With great skill.

Do another trick.

All right, quick one.

♪♪

Hmmm...

Ooh, nice!

My father was given that when he was the surgeon aboard the SS Mayumba.

Impressive, but glory is fleeting.

[JAZZY GUITAR MUSIC]

Oh!

Where did it go?

[HOUDINI CHUCKLES] I don't know.

So what do you think? You wanna be a magician when you grow up?

No, I want to be a writer.

♪♪

Houdini: A writer? Huh?

Sitting alone at a desk all day. Getting flabby.

[BLOWS RASPBERRY]

[ALL CHUCKLING]

That's enough of that, thank you. Run along, children.

[SIGHS]

Great kids. Whose are they?

Doyle: This is Spring Heel'd Jack.

A mysterious assailant, who terrorized parts of Kensington in 1889.

Another report goes back even further, 1855.

He's described as a phantom who leaps across the rooftops, attacking without warning.

[TENSE MUSIC]

Another report goes back over a hundred years.

Many think Spring Heel'd Jack is a demon who feeds on fear.

Houdini: Interesting.

What do sane people think?

No arrests were ever made.

To make matters worth, each Spring Heel'd Jack appearance preceded a great communal tragedy.

[INHALES] The Crimean w*r, a cholera outbreak, even a financial panic.

These are police files you're looking at?!

What concerns me, is that the att*cks came in waves.

Each had the same pattern. The phantom would terrorize neighbourhoods, assaulting people for days, sometimes weeks. And then, suddenly, disappear.

Only to return years later to begin another wave of att*cks.

This phantom will strike again, and soon. I'm sure of it.

Well if he does, we'll follow the trail of horse poop.

What? It's Tuttle who k*lled Underhill, not some demon who feeds on fear.

[FLUTTERING NOISE]

[DROPPING NOISE]

[SCREAMING] Get off me!

[SCREAMING]

Mrs Blake! Mrs Blake, help!

[SCREAMS]

[PANTING HEAVILY]

[PANTING SLOWS]

Newspaper boy: Read it 'ere first!

Ha'penny a rag.

Spring Heel'd Jack strikes again.

Woman molested in her own home.

Read it 'ere first!

Ha'penny a rag.

Houdini: Looks like Biggs agrees with you.

Will Constable Stratton be joining us?

Apparently her catarrh has worsened.

To be expected when you start hiring, er, those of a fragile nature.

Harry Houdini?!

You'd think I'd get tired of that.

[SIGHS]

I take it this is where the assailant came in.

Arthur: Miss Kroshenko?

Like the devil.

Eyes burning red.

Blue flames coming from it's mouth.

Doesn't sound like Tuttle.

It sounds like someone in a mask.

Lady: Tuttle?

Of Tuttle Livery. Do you know him?

I hired a carriage from him.

We had an argument over the bill.

Hm, motive.

If Tuttle's gonna as*ault everyone who disagrees with him, half of London's in danger.

What happened next?

It broke the window.

We fought.

Then it ran. [INHALES DEEPLY] Leaping off the wall, into the night.

Is this medicine?

Bromocarpine. Nerve tonic.

I recently... had a short stay at West Riding Pauper.

A lunatic asylum.

Sergeant, if you please.

She's telling the truth!

I saw it too, with my own eyes.

Arthur: Her testimony supports the Spring Heel'd Jack theory.

A demon who feeds on fear.

Natalia suffers from neurasthenia.

And the first one, Underhill, what did he fear?

Perhaps the threatening note slid under his door frightened him more than what he led on to his wife.

Got to be the devil himself to make a leap like that.

[JAZZ MUSIC]

Where are you going?

To keep an eye on the devil himself.

Fifty bucks says he answer to the name of Angus Tuttle.

♪♪

I thought you were investing Tuttle.

And you were hunting fear-eating demons.

I wanted to check on Miss Constable Stratton first seeing as I am a doctor.

And I, her dearest friend.

Arthur: Perhaps she's too ill to come to the door.

Or, collapsed, lying unconscious.

[SWINGING MUSIC]

What?

Constable Stratton?

[DOOR CLOSED]

She's not here, we should leave.

You're absolutely right.

[ARTHUR WHISPERING] Where are you going?

This is trespassing!

You stepped off the moral higher ground as soon as you walked through that door.

Now you're just worried about getting caught.

[TICKING MUSIC]

♪♪

Arthur: Odd.

What is?

No medicine.

Hmm. Look at this.

♪♪

It's a man's ring.

Houdini: What's that symbol?

No idea.

♪♪

This is the note she received yesterday. It's a telegram.

It's from a one Nigel Pennington.

"You're wrong about me. Please, let me explain."

Something tells me Nigel is not her pharmacist.

♪♪

Doctor Doyle!

Oh, I... er... um...

Constable Stratton, I am terribly sorry.

Er, Harry and I were worried...

What the hell!

You broke into her home?

Yes.

He is quite the pick lock.

I see that you have recovered from your illness, well enough to go out for a stroll.

I was looking in on three other livery stables.

The owners have all provided alibis for the nights of the att*cks.

Oh, well done then.

Still one without an alibi.

[VERY ANGRY] Get out of my house!

♪♪

[WHISPERING] Bye bye.

[INDISTINCT CHATTER IN THE BACKGROUND]

[TENSION BUILDING]

[RHYTHMIC MUSIC]

Oi!

Thanks pal.

♪♪

[TENSE MUSIC]

Arthur: Looking for me?

Delivery boy just brought this message from Mr Houdini.

Are you investing Spring Heel'd Jack?

Police have requested my assistance, yes.

Wendall says three people in his neighbourhood were att*cked last night.

Really? I heard nothing of this!

Who's Wendall?

Boy at school.

Said that he heard it from another boy down the street.

Said the victims had there eyes gouged out and were forced to eat them.

Eat them?

Wendall says Spring Heel'd Jack's a demon from hell.

Well, you tell Wendall the probability of this being a demon, is about the same as it being a dragon.

So quite low indeed.

But, there is still a chance, then.

Kingsley, you have nothing to be afraid of.

I'm not afraid!

There's a good man.

[PIERCING SOUND ]

[BAR AMBIANCE]

Doyle: Hello.

Lady: Good evening.

[LAUGHTER]

Arthur: Hello.

Evening Sir!

Ah, good evening. Oh no, thank you.

Please, don't do that. Thank you. I'm a married man.

[LADIES CHUCKLE]

Doyle: Ah, hello.

Hello handsome.

Hello, good evening.

Um, I'm actually, er, looking for a gentleman.

Yes?

Er... an... an American.

He said I should meet him... ah, there he is!

Thank you so much.

Houdini: Hey! What took you so long?

You couldn't have met me outside?

Could have...

Sophie, tell him about Tuttle.

He's upstairs right now, if you wanna say hello.

Knock first.

He is a frequent customer here, isn't that right?

Mm-hm, he's here many a night.

Including last night.

And the night of Underhill's death.

So, this is the alibi of which he didn't wish to speak.

If his wife ever found out, she'd gut him like a carp.

What about the threatening note sent to Underhill's flat?

Mr Tuttle wrote it. On that table right there!

Had one of his stable boys delivered it for him.

Thanks Sophie.

Fifty bucks. You won the bet, Doc.

Looks like Tuttle is not our Spring Heel'd Jack.

Which means he is still out there.

[THUNDER AND RAIN POURING]

[TENSE MUSIC]

[DOG BARKING AFAR]

[TENSION BUILDING]

♪♪

[STARTLED] Ah!

[PIERCING SOUND]

Help me! Help!

[SCARY AMBIANCE]

Ah! Help!

[PIERCING NOISE INCREASING]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

[ROARING].

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

Doyle: Excuse me, please. Thank you.

[TRAGIC MUSIC]

(CONSTABLE) No closer, please.

Move along please people.

[CROWD MUTTERING]

Thank you.

His name is Herbert Ogilvie.

He's the landlord of the local slum.

Witness caught a glimpse of him being followed by a shadowy figure, but didn't see the actual death.

Landlords have enemies, starting with everyone who rents from them.

Stratton: A weasel of a man, is how he was described.

Paranoid, believing everyone was out to get him.

Doyle: He lived in fear. Another perfect target.

Everyone's living in fear now.

I'm getting more reports from terrified people claiming they heard someone on the roof, appearing in their windows.

Biggs: Working on the case.

Houdini: So what's your solution? The way to stop the Spring Heel'd Jack from attacking again is to eliminate fear?

Spring Heel'd Jack you say? Did me some research.

Did you know, he is a actual demon escaped from hell.

[WEARILY] There's no demon, Biggs. Just a k*ller with a flair for the dramatic.

I'll say.

Strong too, yeah?

Skewering that poor bloke like a shish kebab.

Hello. And who might you be?

Houdini: This is Constable Adelaide Stratton.

Constable?

Scotland Yard's first ever female police officer.

And a bit of jam to boot. What a story!

S'pose you sit down with me, for an interview.

[DISDAINFULLY] No, thank you. I'm quite busy at the moment.

Not a problem, I'm a patient man.

You basting that bird, Harry?

You're vile.

Oh now, hang on Mr Doyle. We're just having a laugh here.

Doyle: Not just your comments. Everything you do.

Your reckless exaggerations are creating panic in this city.

Well. We're just doing our jobs, aren't we? Trying to hook the audience.

Harry's got his tricks. You and me spin yarns.

[DOYLE ANGRILY] You write the news!

The press have a responsibility to report the facts.

Not spin yarns to sale more papers.

Well, the fact is, Mr Doyle, there is a demon.

Not a demon.

And people need to know about it, for there own protection.

Yeah, if that poor fella had read my story, he'd probably still be alive.

[SAD MUSIC]

Of course he is a friend of yours.

Not anymore.

[INDISTINCT HEATED CONVERSATIONS]

[RING TONE]

Merring: Double the foot patrols. Round the clock shifts.

Call in every available officer.

What's all this?

Gudgett: We're under siege, is what it is.

And not just here.

Hospitals are reporting people seizing with violent fits, after being assaulted by this so called Spring Heel'd Jack.

Four more att*cks. Two of them minutes apart.

Miles away from each other.

Merring: So not only is this Jack fellow capable of leaping to the rooftops, it seems now he can bound from one side of the city to the other.

We also got vigilante g*ng out in the streets all trying to be the first to capture him.

Now if you'll...

What's got into you?

Ah, strange itch. Like a rash coming up.

You smell something?

Yeah, some kind of gas, or something in the air.

Merring: Nonsense, the air's fine.

If you ask me, these reports are nothing but copycat att*cks.

Do what they want, and let the demon take the blame.

Or we are in fact, dealing with a phantom that's not human.

Spring Heel'd Jack has been attacking London for over a hundred years!

Feeding on fear.

Each appearance preceded a great tragedy.

Hey, yeah, wait, you're... you're itching too!

And look...

[TENSION BUILDING]

Right, open the windows!

You! Open the windows! We're being gassed!

[LOUD SCARED SCREAMS]

All right wait, wait! There is no itch!

There is no gas.

He made it up.

Harry's wonderful little performance gave us an example of what is known as emotional contagion.

Also called mass hysteria. There is plenty of cases over the years.

My favourite is the meowing nuns.

Houdini: There is no demon. Not even copycats.

Just people, running from shadows.

I'll concede mass hysteria may be in play here.

But it can't be all imagined, we have two dead bodies!

There is something out there attacking people.

Yes, so let's catch him!

And then all this fear eating demon hysteria will vanish.

I agree.

I'll compile a list of Ogilvie recent evictees.

Hopefully, one of them has a connection with the others victims.

Good. Harry and I will help you look through it.

Stratton: Don't bother. I can manage.

[VIBRATING SOUND]

[SAD MUSIC TURNING UNCOMFORTABLE]

...stop him! It's up to us now.

Just come now lads... come on!*

Yeah, What's that got to do with it? *

♪♪

Spring Heel'd Jack... he has to be stopped! *

Come on lads. Right!

Yeah!

Spring Heel'd Jack.

Constable: That's enough lads.

It's time to go.

All right then, all right.

[MEN ARGUING]

[SPOOKY MUSIC]

♪♪

[INTENSIFYING MUSIC]

[DRAMATIC MUSIC]

[STRATTON STRIKES WITH FORCE] Ugh!

[MAN EXCLAIMS IN PAIN] Aw! Oh!

Doctor Doyle?!

[DOYLE MOANING]

Are you following me?

I was worried about you walking alone.

I'm a police officer, I can take care of myself!

Yes. Quite right.

Um... listen, you should know how... terribly sorry I am, for breaking into your flat.

But we were lead to believe you were quite ill.

You can't fault me for worrying about you.

But seeing you in such good health, one begins to wonder if you're even... ill at all?

[HOOVES AFAR]

If there is anything troubling you, There isn't!

[SIGHS] I mean to say, if you need any help, perhaps I...

I don't need any help.

I'm fine! I can take care of myself!

[SIGHS]

♪♪

[STRANGE MUSIC]

[FOOTSTEPS]

[TENSION BUILDING]

[KNOCKS ON THE DOOR]

[HOUDINI UNHAPPILY] Ah!

[DYNAMIC MUSIC]

[CHUCKLES]

Well, you shouldn't be out and about. Not with a demon on the loose.

Huh-oh! Your humble abode.

I've discovered something about Nigel Pennington, the man who sent that telegram to Constable Stratton.

He's a businessman. Known to be quite a philanderer.

Boyfriend?

I don't know.

I think I may have seen him this evening, spying on Adelaide as she walked home.

And, you know this because you were spying on her as well?

It was very sinister, him lurking in the shadows. If it was indeed him.

Definitely not the behaviour of a romantic interest.

I asked her if anything was troubling her, she was very evasive.

That ring we found, the one with the strange symbol, his?

I don't get it. Why all the secrecy?

You'd think she'd come to trust us by now.

Is that concern I detect?

Or jealousy?

I have nothing to be jealous about.

[GIGGLES]

You don't have to hide it, you know?

Uh... it was sitting out there, in plain sight.

The opium.

Sweaty brow, constricted pupils, open window.

Do you smoke to ease the pain you claim you don't have?

Or perhaps to eliminate your fears?

No, you can't eliminate fear, Doc.

Nor should you ever want to!

Nonsense! We should all make such an effort.

It's a harsh, often cruel word.

We should confront those cruelties with strength.

Not withdraw into cowardliness.

I agree.

Doyle: But fear erodes strength.

It diminishes us, makes us vulnerable.

To demons?

To anyone seeking a victim.

No, fear is a good thing.

Helps us survive.

Every time...

I lock myself in that t*nk my heart is pounding.

[CHUCKLE]

And every b*at reminds me that I'm never more alive than when I'm scared half to death.

But it's only when you admit that you're afraid, the fear loses its power over you.

[PIERCING SOUND]

[WIND BLOWING THE WINDOWS]

[FLUTTERING NOISE]

[BREAKING NOISE]

Ah!

[WINDOWS CRASHES OPEN AND CREAKS]

[SCREAMING] Father! Father!

Father!

Kinglsey!

Father!

Father, Father!

Father! Father! Father! Father!

Kinglsey!

Father! Please!

Kingsley!

[KINGLSEY SHOUTING HIMSELF HOARSE]

[DISTRAUGHT] It's Spring Heel'd Jack. He's come for me. [PANTING]

He was touching my arm. Then he opened my windows and slammed my door!

It's all right. There's no one here.

There's a storm coming in. The wind is blowing the branches against the wall.

A gust blew the window open and slammed the door shut.

[SOBBING]

Kinglsey, oh, come on.

You mustn't be afraid. Come on.

[SOBBING]

Stalwart men are we, yes?

All right?

Now go to bed.

[FLUTTERING NOISE]

[MYSTERIOUS MUSIC]

[LOW CONFIDENT] Read it 'ere first, ha'penny a rag.

Spring Heel'd Jack strikes again.

[ECHOING IN THE EMPTY STREET]

No one is safe.

Hey, the housekeeper said you were here.

Let me guess, you were in there, trying to convince the publisher to either gag, fire, or k*ll Biggs.

From the expression on your face, you failed on all three.

The city's paralysed. It's only gonna get worse as long as that hack keeps fearmongering.

So let's shut him up.

Ogilvie's recent evictees.

Doyle: Vladimir Palinov.

Stratton: Another Russian.

Yes, I know Vladimir.

He emigrated here two years ago.

He wanted to court me.

Bought me gifts he could not afford.

Stratton: But you didn't share his affections?

See, I wanted to be delicate.

But he was furious.

Palinov was angry at Natalia for jilting him, and Ogilvie for evicting him.

What about Underhill? Why k*ll him?

I don't know, let's ask Palinov.

Do you know where we can find him?

Yes.

[JAUNTY MUSIC]

Houdini: Of course!

Who better to leap to the rooftop than a gymnast?

Vladimir Palinov?

Yes?

I'm Constable Stratton of Scotland Yard.

What do you want?

Spring Heel'd Jack!

Doyle: You're aware of the recent att*cks?

Palinov: You think I'm responsible?

Houdini: Just how good of a gymnast are you?

It's come to our attention that you know two of the victims in the att*cks.

Herbert Ogilvie and Natalia Korshenko.

Natalia wishes me harm, because I reject her.

Really? She had it the other way around.

There was another victim, Barrett Underhill.

Are you familiar with him?

No, I don't know him.

I'm here every night. Speak to people I work with.

You will see. I am not responsible.

[CLOAK BILLOWS IN THE WIND]

[FLAPPING SOUND]

[ROAR]

[expl*si*n]

[BIGGS SHRIEKS]

What the hell are you doing, you halfwit?!

I almost dropped a brick in my trousers.

Listen, we need to lay low, for awhile.

Home Secretary's called for more cops on patrol.

So I'll tell you, when it's time for the next job.

And ditch that suit before you give us away.

Too late.

[FOOTSTEPS]

Doyle: Strontium aluminate. A luminescent powder.

Mix it with daubs of candle wax, and you have a pair of glowing read eyes.

Ethanol.

When ignited, it burns with a blue flame.

Stratton: Your friend, the gymnast, denied responsibility.

But when presented with this evidence, he soon confessed.

Doyle: He was, however, partially correct when he said he wasn't the person responsible.

That designation would fall on the man who hired him.

You!

♪♪

Read it 'ere first!

Ha'penny a rag.

Spring Heel'd Jack behind bars.

Read it 'ere first!

Ha'penny a rag.

Spring Heel'd Jack put behind bars.

'Ere you are. Thank you, sir.

Come to gloat?

Came to show you your paper.

Biggs: Oh, look at that.

Now I'm as famous as Arthur Conan Doyle.

Houdini: Congratulations.

Now you can sign autograph for the other convicts.

No one was supposed to get hurt.

Only hired that idiot to scare some people, goose the story.

But that landlord got kebabed by accident.

He was trying to get away, climbed the fence, and slipped.

And Underhill, he slipped too?

What are you on about?

I had nothing to do with that one!

Houdini: You showed up at the crime scene very conveniently taking the temperature of the investigation; asking if I knew about Spring Heel'd Jack.

I didn't know anything about Spring Heel'd Jack until I heard Mr Doyle mention him to you.

Doctor Doyle.

[CHAIR SCRAPING ON FLOOR]

[PIANO MUSIC]

Seen this?

The dragon is slain.

It's all right Father, I'm not afraid.

Of course you aren't.

♪♪

But it's all right if you are.

♪♪

[DOOR CLOSING]

[BREATHES DEEPLY]

[BIRDS CHIRPING]

[FUNKY MUSIC]

[INDISTINCT CHATTER]

Stop, stop!

♪♪

Pennington?

Arthur Conan Doyle.

The author?

And colleague of Constable Stratton.

May I enquire as to the nature of the conversation you just had with her?

Perhaps you should ask the Constable.

I won't let you harm her.

I intend nothing of the sort.

I'm merely a friend of her husband.

♪♪

Constable Stratton is married.

[KIDS LAUGHING IN THE BACKGROUND]

Wait a minute, you saw her flat. Did it look like anyone else live there?

No.

Maybe they're divorced. Separated.

Then why not tell us that?

Biggs... claims he had nothing to do with Underhill's death.

Said he hired the gymnast to play Spring Heel'd Jack after Underhill was k*lled.

Houdini: Ah, we're back where we started.

You know, maybe Underhill did fall out of the window. By accident.

Maybe all those other att*cks throughout the years started the same way, strange accident, triggering mass hysteria.

Or, perhaps, Spring Heel'd Jack was responsible.

[HOUDINI CHUCKLES]

All right. Tell me this then. If he was, what great communal tragedy did this appearance foretell?

[ENGINE COMING CLOSER]

Oh yes, that's much better.

[CHUCKLES]

[HOUDINI EXHALES IN RELIEF]

[DRAMATIC SOUND]

[INTENSIFYING SOUND]