16x15 - Breaking Ranks

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(THEME MUSIC)

(LIVELY JAZZ MUSIC)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Well, if you need anything,
please let me know.

Mrs. Hart.

(VIOLET SIGHS) I must say it is
strange being back in this place.

I can imagine.

- Are you all right?
- Still rather sore.

Just lucky the b*llet
didn't do any more damage.

How's your state of mind?

I've been through worse.

You're a strong woman, Violet Hart.

But if you should ever need a shoulder,

you know you can call on me.

I almost forgot.

There's someone here
who wants to see you.

- Sounds like trouble.
- It's not trouble.

An old friend.

He says he's moving to the city.

Violet Hart.

Mr. Buchanan.

I haven't seen you since Niagara.

I should get back to the bar. Um,

- lovely to see you again, Isaiah.
- Miss Bright.

What are you doing here?

I'm moving to Toronto to better myself.

I'm going to take some
courses at the university.

Hm. Is that so?

Didn't think it easy for
a coloured man to enroll.

Ever hear of a Mr. Delos Davis?

Of course.

It's not every day a black
man is named king's counsel.

Family friend.

He's going to pull some strings for me.

You're going to be a lawyer.

I've a mind to.

I'm impressed.

Then I'm doing something right already.

(CHUCKLES)

Shall we sit?

I wasn't planning on staying.

I'd best get going.

Oh, then allow me to escort you.

Where?

Wherever you want.

Hm.

Say, I hope I'm not too, uh, forward...

Walking you home. Your...
your husband won't mind?

My husband is dead.

(WOMAN): Help! Somebody. Please!

- Come on!
- Help!

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

He's dead.

Lord have mercy.

If we'd only been by earlier.

He's been dead for a while.

Hard to say exactly how long.

Until we meet again, may God
hold you in the palm of his hand.

Stand back.

Sir, I'm a coroner. City of Toronto.

That may be,

but I'm Colonel Michaels
and John is one of my men.

- I have some preliminary findings...
- We take care of our own.

I suggest you do the same.

- You think she knew him.
- Let's go find out.

Excuse me.

Did you know him?

Yes.

His name is John Walsh.

He used to drink in the
pub where I clear tables.

All the m*llitary lads do.

You only knew him in passing?

Suppose so.

You fancied him, didn't you?

I know it sounds mad.

He was to be an officer and
I'm nothing but a barmaid.

How did you happen across his body?

I was on my way home after work

and I saw something
floating in the harbour.

I don't know what possessed
me to go and see what it was.

I'm very sorry, miss...?

Drew. Maggie Drew.

Did Mr. Walsh ever get
into any fights at the pub?

No. Why?

I noticed some injuries on the body.

They aren't consistent with drowning.

I only saw him last night. He was fine.

Did you see him leave?

Yes, around midnight.

Where to?

I don't know.

I-I'm sorry, I have to go.

What happened?

A young soldier was found
dead in the harbour last night.

We were first on the scene.

His body was in the water for a while.

So it's a m*llitary case.

Does it matter?

The boy had injuries
at the back of his head

and defensive wounds on his hands.

They have their own investigators.

This case is not
within our jurisdiction.

As a m*llitary man myself,
I know how things work.

I can guarantee they will
conduct a full investigation.

(BABY BABBLING)

- Doctor!
- Oh!

- George, I'm sorry. Am I in your way?
- Not at all.

Ah, well, yes, but I
assume with good reason.

I'm assisting a former
colleague with a research study.

What kind of study?

Actually, it's one that
you could partake in.

We need participants.

Dr. Binet and his
student, Theodore Simon,

designed this challenge

as a part of their study into
the capacity of the human mind.

Capacity for what?

- Intelligence.
- Oh.

Sir? Are you taking the test?

I don't believe the true
scope of one's intelligence

can be measured with a written
test; Not with these questions.

William is a skeptic.

It's just a series of
simple empirical questions

resulting in a score.

An intelligence quotient.

Quotient? I like that.

I should like to know my quotient

and I would like to compare
it to the quotient of others.

William scored very poorly.

- I have not taken the test!
- (LAUGHING)

- Sir, Doctor, George.
- Oh, Henry!

Would you like to have
your intelligence measured?

- What for?
- So that you know how smart you are.

- What for?
- It's part of a study.

You fill this out and you get a score.

I wouldn't put much stock in it, Henry.

I suspect those who do are already

somewhat intellectually challenged.

Uh, can I do it while I'm at work?

Don't see why not.

Then sure.

"You need three pints of water.

How do you measure three pints

using only a five pint
can and a two pint can?"

What do I want three pints of water for?

Uh, so, why did we stop here?

I want to take you for lunch.

- Hardly in the mood.
- Why's that?

I don't take kindly to
people telling me what to do,

to say nothing, of ignoring my
professional assessment of a case.

Shame about that.

Um, but, you know,
you have to let it go;

some good food isn't a bad
way to take your mind off it.

I'm not letting it go.

- Do you have a choice?
- No.

We have to get to the bottom
of this like we did in Niagara.

Well, this isn't what I had in mind

for our first rendezvous
after all this time, but, uh,

I suppose it'll do.

Good.

Now let's find out what
happened to John Walsh.

(LIGHT PIANO TUNE)

Miss Drew.

How are you feeling?

This morning I put my
shoes on the wrong feet

and for a long time I couldn't
figure out what the matter was.

Shock can last for
days, longer sometimes.

John left the pub around
midnight the night before last.

Do you have any idea where he went?

He told me he was going
to meet his friend, David.

David Symington.

Do you know where we could find him?

He's a recruit at Fort York,

though I doubt you'd
find admittance there.

Thank you for your time.

There's something else.

Last night, after...

Well, after we found John,

I stopped in here to get my things

and David was in here with his fiancée.

He was shattered. Crying into his pint.

Must have heard what happened.

I suppose so.

But then I heard him
say, "what have I done?"

"What have I done?"

Are you certain?

- Yes.
- Did he say anything else?

Nothing. He was overcome.

He didn't mention another word about it.

What is his fiancée's name?

Ellen Kirby.

Do you know where we might find her?

She lives over on Parliament Street.

Thank you, Miss Drew.

Who exactly are you people?

Oh! Hello.

I am the coroner for
the city of Toronto.

Mr. Buchanan and I were at Fort York

when John Walsh's body
was pulled from the water.

Oh, dear. I barely knew John.

We were told you were a
friend of the deceased.

He was David's friend, my fiancé.

We heard David was upset
in the pub last night.

'Course he was.

He'd just found out John had d*ed.

He was also overheard
saying, "what have I done?"

What had he done?

It was personal.

Their friendship was complicated.

Is it true that David had met
John the night before last?

David had nothing to do
with John Walsh's death.

I didn't mean to offend you.

I think it's best you both leave.

Good luck to you.

She sure changed her tune quite fast.

You'd think she'd want to help.

She may not even know the truth.

Just wish I had some
more time with the body.

Maybe we can find a way
for you to take a look.

What did you have in mind?

We walk onto that m*llitary base

and try to find the doctor
who did the post-mortem.

Right.

You think they'll just let
us waltz right up to him?

Oh, who's gonna stop us? The army?

(CHUCKLING)

Fortune favours the bold, Miss Hart.

Huh.

And bold you are.

What exactly do you intend to do?

Follow my lead.

Special operative Buchanan, at
the request of Colonel Michaels.

I'll need to see some identification.

We know the way, recruit. Stand down.

- I can't let you...
- The colonel's waiting for us.

(MAN, FROM AFAR): Yes, Captain!

And what happens if
he calls the colonel?

I sure hope we'll be long
gone by then. Come on.

(INDISTINCT ORDERS BEING SHOUTED)

(KNOCKING)

I'm sorry. How did you get in here?

Please, just a moment of your time.

I'm Violet Hart, the coroner
for the Toronto morgue.

We were first on the scene when
John Walsh's body was found.

We believe we have some information
that you might find useful.

Huh! And what may that be?

Have you determined a cause of death?

I thought you were here to give
me information, not seek it.

Boy obviously drowned.

I disagree, sir...

You are a mere city coroner.

You don't have half the
experience that I do.

My post-mortem is conclusive. Hey!

Don't touch that!

His belongings are being
held for his brother.

- Leave them be.
- I apologize.

Did you consider the injuries
on his head and his hands?

The body was found near a Marina

and it had been in the
water for some time.

Did you consider that
it may have knocked

against rocks, boats
and all manner of things

leading to post-mortem injuries?

- May I see the body?
- Certainly not.

(BUCHANAN CLEARS THROAT)

If as you suggest that the
injuries were made post-mortem,

the bruises and the nature of the wounds

could help us come to a conclusion.

My post-mortem was conclusive.

Accidental drowning.

Now I suggest the two of
you show yourselves out

before I call the guards.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

I got a call from Colonel Michaels.

What were you doing at the m*llitary
base tossing his name around?

Speaking with the doctor who
performed the post-mortem.

Was I talking to myself when I
told you to stay away from this?

I don't believe the
doctor's conclusions.

There were unique injuries
on the head and hands.

Those would hardly be caused
by floating in the water.

How do you know these injuries
contributed to the death?

We had a witness that said he was
uninjured shortly before he d*ed.

Never mind that. It's done.

Let the m*llitary do their job.

Consider that an order.

I suppose that's the end of the road?

We'll see about that.

I don't believe I've had the pleasure.

- Isaiah Buchanan.
- Detective Murdoch.

Why don't we speak in private?

I'd like to hear more about this case.

The army is insisting that
this is an unfortunate accident.

And you don't trust the m*llitary

to conduct their own
proper investigation?

I felt wounds on the back of his head

and saw defense wounds on his hands.

They were anything but accidental.

Oh.

Any other leads?

- His friend, David Symington.
- Yes.

The night after John's death
he was overheard saying,

"what have I done?"

We also found John's
belongings at the army morgue.

He had a curious notebook, uh...

Like a journal full of
codes and strange markings.

You saw this yourself?

Briefly.

Where is that now?

The doctor said his brother's
picking up his belongings.

That's where we're off to now.

He works at the hardware
store on Duke Street.

Duke Street.

I could go.

You've already met the
inspector's ire once.

Twice, actually.

All the more reason.

I was hoping he'd work
in the store with me,

but he insisted on the m*llitary instead.

Had you spoken with
your brother recently?

Uh...

I mean, a few days ago.

He was upset that he'd been reprimanded.

Reprimanded for what?

For an altercation with another soldier.

- Do you know who?
- Didn't say.

Just that it wasn't his fault

and his commanding
officer had it out for him.

No, my brother wasn't
exactly a model soldier,

but, I mean, he didn't
really respect their rules

or their chain of command.

So why stay?

Well, he was studying engineering.

I mean, that's the reason he enlisted;

to make his mark as a m*llitary engineer.

Do you know what your brother was doing

on the night that he d*ed?

No.

Do-do you think that
someone did something to him?

The m*llitary has stated that
it was an accidental drowning.

(SCOFFS) That's nonsense.

He could swim from Rochester and back.

Hm.

Perhaps his journal could shed some
light on his final days and hours.

How did you know about his journal?

Oh, it was listed amongst
his personal effects.

Oh. I hoped the same,

but good luck making any sense of it.

- What do you mean?
- Well, take a look.

See, John liked to make lists of...

Well, everything.

Things that he saw,

things that he liked,
things he didn't like.

He was always that way, just
particular and obsessive.

" : . He returned H.D. Locked.

: shaved lint from u..."

Everything's either
abbreviated, or in code.

I couldn't make any sense of it.

May I borrow this?

- Yeah.
- Thank you.

Yes, I was John Walsh's
commanding officer.

What about it?

I understand he was recently reprimanded

for an altercation
with a fellow recruit.

The last in a long
line of such incidents.

The other recruits took issue with John.

Why was that?

The young man had eccentricities.

Such as?

Well, in this last case, he
was smacked by a fellow recruit

for repeatedly locking a door.

Someone was unlocking it?

No.

It was a compulsion, I guess you'd say.

It was not logical, but
such was John's nature.

I see.

And this behaviour caused
more than one such incident?

Oh, yes.

He was not well regarded
by his fellow recruits.

But if you're here because you
think one of them k*lled him,

I can disabuse you of that notion.

His eccentricities were
disliked, but minor,

not a motive for m*rder.

Nevertheless, I don't believe his
death to have been an accident.

- Detective...
- The coroner for the city of Toronto

observed injuries to his body.

His brother stated that he
was a very strong swimmer.

Something just doesn't add up here.

Wouldn't you like to
learn the truth, Colonel?

- Or are you protecting someone?
- Yes.

His family.

The young man committed su1c1de.

su1c1de?

You told his brother that
his death was an accident.

A harsh truth like that's
best kept from the family.

It will not be on his m*llitary record.

I trust this concludes your
interest in the matter. Good day.

Constables. How do you feel you did?

I have to say, Doctor, I tend
to agree with the detective.

I'm not entirely convinced
of the test's merits.

Well, I suppose that's why my
colleague is looking for participants.

Your answers could help
to improve the questions.

Well, it seems some of the
questions have little to do

with intelligence at all.

For example, this one says,

"which of these faces is prettier?"

What kind of a question is that?

That one was easy. You
just pick the prettier one.

Well, it's most certainly not
a test of knowledge or trivia,

but there must be some
method to Mr. Binet's madness.

Are you ready to hand them in?

What's all this then?

A test to measure
one's intelligence, sir.

Care to try your hand, Inspector?

We're looking for volunteers.

Why would you want to measure
your intelligence, Higgins?

Won't exactly be a boost of confidence.

Well, I think I did
quite well actually, sir.

- Better than he would.
- What was that?

- Hm? Eh?
- What?

Ah, Higgins thinks he's
done quite well, sir.

You two think you're clever, don't you?

I tell you what:

If you score higher than me,
you can have the weekend off.

- And if you b*at us?
- You mean "when."

When I b*at ya, you go back to work

and you stop all this fannying around.

I'll have this back to
you in the morning, Doctor.

- Good luck, Inspector.
- Good evening.

The entire weekend off, hm?

Doctor, maybe I'll actually go
over my answers one more time.

Actually,

I might make a couple
of adjustments myself.

su1c1de?

According to the colonel.

But the injuries?

Perhaps the m*llitary doctor's assessment

that they were inflicted
post-mortem was correct.

Well, what about the blows to his head?

He could have jumped off
a bridge. We don't know.

We have found nothing
that explicitly discounts

the possibility of su1c1de.

In fact, it would answer
some of our questions.

I don't believe it. No one
we talked to said anything

about him wanting to k*ll himself.

Apparently, he'd been
struggling in the m*llitary.

Perhaps the pressure was too much.

What about David Symington?

What did he mean when he
said, "what have I done?"

How does that fit with
their su1c1de theory?

Perhaps Mr. Symington
also suspected su1c1de

and felt that he, in some way,
contributed to John Walsh's melancholy.

Or he's a k*ller and the
m*llitary's covering it up.

The pub is just up here.

- (STRUGGLING SOUNDS)
- (VIOLET): What was that?

It came from over here.

Stop! Toronto constabulary!

He's been beaten badly,
but he's still alive.

Someone call for an ambulance!

Sir? Sir? Are you all right?

Who did this to you?

We need to get him to a hospital.

Telephone for an ambulance.

- Miss Drew, do you know this man?
- I do.

That's David Symington.

(PANTING) I lost the attacker.

Did you get a look at him?

No, he was too far ahead of me.

He was holding something.
Could have been a w*apon.

We were just on our
way to speak with him.

This must have something
to do with the m*rder.

If that was the case, it's very unlikely

Mr. Symington here is the k*ller.

Much more likely that
he knows something.

Ah, Dr. Ogden, the very person.

My intelligence test.

- How did you fare?
- Piece of cake.

The one with the
circles... It was B, right?

- I wasn't sure about that one myself, actually.
- Hm.

But we mustn't take it too seriously.

- It's just a bit of fun.
- A bit of fun.

How did tweedledee and tweedledum do?

I'm afraid I haven't had time
to review their tests yet.

Sure you had a glance.

- (CHUCKLES)
- Inspector,

I'll have all of your scores
back to you this afternoon.

- Good day.
- Good day. (CHUCKLES)

(MURDOCH): Last night, a young recruit

was att*cked and brutally beaten
in the alley outside the pub.

He was a friend of John Walsh,

the other recruit whose body
was pulled from the water.

Now, I suspect these
two events are related.

You've decided to stick
your nose in this, too?

Sir, the m*llitary's account
of the events doesn't add up.

So who's the lad that was beaten up?

David Symington.

He was witnessed saying,

"what have I done?" after
John Walsh's body was found.

- A suspect then?
- Possibly.

Or he knows something.

Someone tried to k*ll
him to keep him quiet.

That would be my guess.

Nevertheless, Murdoch,
leave the case alone.

It's a m*llitary matter.

Begging your pardon, sir,

but the m*llitary is
not exempt from justice.

One young man is already
dead, another one may soon be.

I'm not going to wait
to find out who's next.

(SIGHS)

Hello?

Detective Murdoch of
the Toronto constabulary.

I'm David's fiancée, Ellen Kirby.

How is he?

They say he'll likely live.

Has he said anything yet?

No.

He hasn't woken up.

Do you have any idea
who could have done this?

Maybe it's because he went
to meet with John that night.

John... John Walsh?

He met with John Walsh
the night that he d*ed?

No. They were meant to, but...

John never showed up.

Oh.

I'm very sorry, Miss Kirby.

(KNOCKING)

This is a private room.

I don't want you bothering me and
my fiancé while he's in this state.

Miss Kirby,

Miss Hart is likely the reason
that Mr. Symington is still alive.

It was at her insistence that
we continued to pursue this case

and very likely the reason

we came across Mr. Symington
before he was beaten to death.

Oh.

I'm sorry.

(SOFT MUSIC)

The m*llitary can't possibly
call this an accident.

I should think not.

What now?

Mr. Symington was to
meet with John Walsh

the night that he d*ed.

What were those two meeting about?

Repetitive rituals
performed compulsively.

I've read about this disorder.

Apparently these rituals
made him unpopular

with the fellow recruits,
but I don't understand it.

We all have habits and routines.

Yes, William, but this is different.

Esquirol studied individuals who
used rituals to control their anxiety.

If they don't follow these rituals,

- they feel they can't function in the world.
- Hm.

He mentions "D" a number of
times on the day that he d*ed.

Who is "D"? David?

David Symington. It's simple enough.

He was to meet with him that night.

But Ellen Kirby says
that they never met.

What does the rest of
the entry about "D" mean?

"R-u-n-c-o-r".

"Runcor."

Hm.

It's not a Cypher. At
least, not one I can cr*ck.

Run "c-o-r"?

Perhaps. Then who is Cor?

"Cor."

Could be a person, someone
he was running from?

- Hm.
- (PHONE RINGING)

Detective Murdoch.

Yes, sir.

I see.

All right. I'll be right there.

Apparently the m*llitary
has made an arrest

in the as*ault on David Symington.

Oh.

Good luck.

- (KNOCKING)
- Ah, Murdoch!

I asked Colonel Michaels to come in.

Have a seat.

I'm relieved this
nasty business is over.

Oh. Have you made an arrest?

Robert Walsh, John Walsh's brother.

Uh... and his motive?

He blamed Symington
for his brother's death.

Witnesses said he
threatened him last night.

Tragedy upon tragedy.

It's unfortunate, but...

We cannot allow an undisciplined
thug to debase the uniform

and destroy a promising m*llitary career.

David Symington was
assaulted with a w*apon.

Have you recovered that?

Found the wrench used in the
as*ault in Robert Walsh's store.

I'd like to speak with him.

(CLEARS THROAT)

I understand that you were there

in the immediate aftermath
of the altercation.

Inspector Brackenreid tells me
you have no clue what transpired

and you were unable to
apprehend the attacker.

I didn't quite put it that way.

The assailant fled because we
were busy saving the boy's life.

I'm glad you did.

I assure you we'll do what's
necessary to find justice.

No, you won't. We will.

Detective Murdoch will
take over from here.

(CHUCKLING DRYLY) Beg your pardon?

John Walsh was found on your grounds.

David Symington may
be a m*llitary recruit,

but he was assaulted in my ward.

- That means this is our case.
- Tom.

You'll transfer Robert Walsh to my cells

and provide me with any evidence
that you have against him.

We followed your rules, Colonel.

Now you follow ours.

Robert Walsh is now in our cells.

- This is the evidence in the case?
- Correct.

But it looks to me like the
colonel might be right on this one.

Numerous witnesses in the pub saw Walsh

thr*aten Symington
just before the att*ck.

I take it this is the w*apon?

Found at Walsh's hardware
store. Traces of blood.

That's what the attacker
was using last night?

That's what they say.

I saw that man running
off and I could have sworn

whatever he had in his
hand was longer than that.

They're lying.

How do you mean?

I saw Symington right
after the att*ck happened.

He had at least three
distinct wounds to his skull.

It's possible there was a fracture.

The injuries weren't caused by
something with a sharp edge like that;

would have been a blunt implement.

So they are lying.

They're using Robert Walsh's
thr*at as a scapegoat.

Someone is trying to cover up
what happened to John Walsh.

The colonel.

Seems likely.

If he's behind this,

he won't be a colonel for much longer.

The colonel has provided
us with statements

that place you at the pub the night
that Mr. Symington was assaulted.

You were thrown out.

He k*lled my brother.

Are you certain of that?

If he didn't, then he
knows something about it.

A spanner with blood on
it was found in your store.

I'm being set up.

The blood was probably already there,

or they put it on when they found it.

All I know is I never
hit anyone with anything.

All right.

Where did you go after the altercation?

I, uh,

I went down to the spot
where John was found

just to... say goodbye.

I'd had more than a few.

Did anyone see you?

No, it was late.

I wish I could help you, Mr. Walsh.

But without an alibi, you
could be facing charges.

Diabhal!

- I beg your pardon?
- Oh!

I-I was only cursing. I apologize.

But what did you say?

It-it's nothing. It's Irish.

R-u-n-c-o-r...

There-there's nothing.

"Runcor" certainly doesn't sound Irish.

Oh, wait.

There's a possibility that it
is Irish, or at least in part.

"Rún" - roon,

which means, uh, secret.

Secret. "Rún-cor".

A secret about cor.

Something he was going to tell David?

Could it be about the fiancée?

Ellen Kirby? Possibly.

But I believe she's
represented by the letter "E".

"E" for "Ellen".

There's a number of
references to "D" and "E".

Oh, here's cor a few days earlier.

It says "Caid." "C-a-i-d".

That sounds Irish.

Caid...

Caid... caidreamh.

Caidreamh.

It means "affair."

John Walsh knew something
that led to this tragedy.

A secret.

How can you possibly know that?

That's a wild assumption.

I don't believe it to be an assumption.

Mr. Walsh kept detailed
notes in his journal.

About what?

The Irish word for affair

is caidreamh.

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

You were having an affair, weren't you?

Mr. Walsh learned of this affair

and that's why he wanted to
meet with his friend David,

in order to tell him the truth.

Yes.

It's true.

David went to meet John.

He was hurt, angry.

They fought and...

Why would they fight?

Why would David be upset

that his friend John wanted
to tell him the truth?

Because the affair was with John.

I don't believe that
to be true, Miss Kirby.

What do you mean?

"Run cor."

Run, or in this case, rún, means secret

and cor, I believe, is the
abbreviation of choirnéal.

Colonel.

Colonel Michaels k*lled John

to prevent him from telling anyone

of the affair that he
was having with you.

Yes...

Yes, it's true. It... it's all true.

My only question is...

How did the colonel know
where John would be that night?

It was me.

David asked me what it
could have been about,

what John wanted to tell him.

I knew, of course. I told the colonel.

Colonel Michaels demanded David
tell him where he was meeting John

and ordered him to stay away.

And when David learned
what had happened,

he blamed himself

for sending John to his death.

He lamented what he'd done, but

he hadn't done a thing.

It was all my fault.

Colonel Michaels.

You again.

Haven't we had this
conversation already?

You're under arrest for
the m*rder of John Walsh.

What? On what grounds?

Miss Kirby has confessed to your affair

and to the events
leading up to the m*rder.

What does she say?

Your lawyer can request
a copy of her statement.

I admit to nothing.

You do have the right to silence.

But I will be taking this into evidence.

Thank you. Constables.

- He's all yours.
- Thank you.

I'll need to take some photographs.

The handle is a perfect match
for David Symington's wounds.

- Has he woken up?
- No.

But they believe he will soon.

Even without his account we can lay
charges against Colonel Michaels.

And what of John Walsh?

I believe he was struck with
the shaft, not the handle.

Meaning we can't prove it.

No. In fact, I'm skeptical this
is the w*apon that was used.

Uh...

- Take a look at his hands.
- They're a mess, eh?

Several unique wounds
on the back of his hands

and wooden splinters in his palms.

Small and circular. Strange.

So he was hit with
something, but not this stick.

- That would seem to be the case.
- Then with what?

Might be this.

Found it near the
place we found the body.

Oh!

Let's have a look!

So you decided to just
continue investigating?

I asked him to, Inspector.

Oh, you're doing our job for
us now are you, Miss Hart?

Simply assisting, sir.

Well, good work.

Thank you, sir.

What do you think, Murdoch?

Well, sir, judging by this,

I believe Mr. Buchanan may have
found what we've been looking for.

Anything else?

There are fingermarks.

But I don't believe them to
be a match for the colonel's.

Ah, bloody hell.

So he didn't do it?

There's only one other person
who could have done this.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Ellen Kirby k*lled John Walsh herself.

That was quite a performance
you put on, Mss Kirby.

We almost believed your story.

But your fingermarks were
found on the m*rder w*apon.

John Walsh was a decent young man.

He didn't deserve what you did to him.

Neither did your fiancé.

How could you let that happen to him?

I'm not saying anything
without my lawyer.

You do realize my father is Jed Kirby.

His name means something in this town.

Hm.

And now, Miss Kirby, so does yours.

You b*at a young
recruit nearly to death.

You're a disgrace to your uniform.

I had to protect her.

It was for love.

I know what it looks
like, but it's true.

We loved one another.

Mr. Symington has just
regained consciousness.

Lucky for you, as*ault and battery

carries with it a much lesser sentence.

Lucky?

I'll be discharged.

And Ellen?

She'll likely be hanged.

All this for what?

John Walsh was a nobody.

He never was gonna
make it in the m*llitary.

Not under your command.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Thank you for this, Mr. Walsh.

Without it, your brother's legacy
would have been very different.

And without you, Detective.

Oh, you can give all of your
thanks to Miss Hart here.

Her determination is the only
reason any of this was uncovered.

Well, thank you, Miss Hart.

You two have met?

I'm accompanying him to
his brother's ceremony.

John's being honoured with
a full m*llitary funeral.

They say that grief
divided is made lighter.

Well done.

So, I have everyone's results.

Right, so, here we
all are. How did we do?

Quite well. In fact, inspector,
you just managed to edge out George.

Oh. (CHUCKLES) You all
right, me ol' mucker?

Wisdom comes with
experience, as they say.

No surprise there, sir. Well done.

And what about this one?
Did he get any answers right?

- Yes! In fact, Henry scored the best of everyone.
- What?

- Him?
- Really?

- You sure about that?
- Quite.

Huh.

Don't know what to say.

I guess I'll be taking
the weekend off, sir.

- Deal's a deal.
- Fine.

Crabtree, rip up this week's schedule.

Higgins will be mucking out the
stables for the rest of the month.

- Sir?
- And next month!

Oh, I'm so sorry, Henry.

I didn't realize this silly test
would cause such consternation.

Oh, it's all right.

And I still get to make fun
of George for being daft.

Except I'm not the one on stable duty.

You got the answers wrong
on purpose, didn't you?

Higgins, I don't know how smart I am,

but only a nitwit would b*at
his boss on an intelligence test.

Oh.

(JAZZ MUSIC)

Thought you intended
to make yourself scarce.

This place is hard to stay away from.

The music?

The drinks?

No. My captivating company.

- All of those things, Mrs. Bright.
- Hm...

You're a terrible liar, Miss Hart.

At least on this matter.

Do have fun.

- Glad you stuck with it.
- Uh.

Glad you challenged me to do so.

I must say, it, uh,

made me want to get back
into private investigation.

Nothing quite like the
feeling of cracking a case.

You have more important
things to tend to.

That I do.

- Was that too forward? Given...
- I'm not sure.

Better try it again.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Oh, so you decided to take the
intelligence test after all.

Well...

I thought you declared it ineffective.

Uh! It's just a bit of fun. Why not?

You just want to know
that you're smarter

than everyone else, don't you?

(SIGHS) No.

Although that part
should be self-evident.

William Murdoch!

I've never known you to be so vain.

I am not!

I just wanted to know how
my results compared to yours.

Oh, did you now?

Well, let's have a look, shall we?

Number one, question... oh!

That's wrong. Number two...

Oh! That's wrong, too. Look!

- What?
- So many wrong!

Oh, there's another wrong one! No, oh!

- L... let me see that...
- (GIGGLING)

No! No! Ah! No! No! Stop! (LAUGHING)

- You are lying to me!
- They're all right!