All language subtitles for Miss Scarlet and The Duke - 04x05 - The Calling.AMZN.WEB-DL.CHDWEB.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

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- (UPBEAT MUSIC)
- (STREET CHATTER)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

- (CARRIAGE CLATTERING)
- Good morning, Miss. Post.

- Thank you.
- (BAG THUMPS ON STEP)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

- Goodness.
- Indeed.

(DOOR OPENS)

- Good morning, Eliza.
- (DOOR CLOSES)

Clarence.

I hope that's not full of bills?

Applications.

We've had an overwhelming response

to our advert for new detectives.

I suppose my reputation does precede me.

It's more likely they heard
of the female detective.

The advert was quite clear
who they'd be dealing with.

Remind me whose name is above the door?

Yours. And your sons'.

Well, no time like the present.

Shall we begin?

- (POST FLOPS ONTO DESK)
- (LIGHT MUSIC)

(ENVELOPES TEARING) (PAPERS SHUFFLING)

Oh, this one's good.

Twenty three years at Bow Street,

what does that tell you?

That he lacks ambition.

Unlike Mr. Samuel Walsh.

(PAPER SNATCHES)

Can't spell the word detective.

Or the word criminal.

(PAPER CRUMPLES) Or his own name.

(PAPER BALL PLOPS IN BIN)

- (UPBEAT MUSIC)
- Him?

Fired him last year. (PAPER SLAPS)

- Him?
- Too young.

- He's too old.
- Don't trust him.

Don't like him. Him?

He's been in prison.

(PAPER SNATCHES)

Ugh.

(NASH SIGHS)

(PAPERS RUSTLE)

Surely, we can at least
agree on this chap?

(PAPER RUSTLES)

I've said no to him twice already.

Stop trying to sneak him through.

We've been at this all day,

and so far you've liked
none of my choices.

Any more than you've liked mine.

It'll be me who works with them.

And me who pays for them. I am the boss.

So you keep reminding me.

Surely some of the applicants
are acceptable to you both?

Ask him.

Ask her.

(DOOR OPENS) (DOOR CLOSES)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(THEME MUSIC)

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

(PEN SCRATCHES)

- (CHURCH BELL RINGING)
- (BIRDS SINGING)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

Good morning.

Morning.

I was just... (PAPER FOLDS)

practicing my handwriting.

Looked to me like you
were writing a letter.

Fine. (EGG CRACKS)

I was writing a letter.

To?

Barnabus. (EGG CRACKS)

- Oh.
- Hmm.

(EGGS WHISKING)

(PAPER SNATCHES) Lizzie!

What are you up to? (PAPER UNFOLDS)

Why are you writing to
Inspector Wellington?

- Because you aren't!
- What?

He wrote to me.

He said he's sent you three letters

and you've not replied to any of them.

(PAPER FOLDS)

I don't want any breakfast.
I'll be late for work.

- Lizzie...
- You've not spoken of Inspector Wellington

since he's been gone.

Perhaps it might help to do so?

You're clearly upset
and angry with him...

I'm not upset, nor am I angry.

I'm absolutely fine.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(EGGS WHISKING)

- (STREET CHATTER)
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

(SOFT MUSIC)

If we are to be together,

then I cannot remain at Scotland Yard

with you a private detective,

nor can I be around
you anymore without...

without being with you.

(DRAWER OPENS)

(PAPER RUSTLES)

(LETTER OPENS)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR) (DOOR OPENS)

(PAPER RUSTLES) (DRAWER CLOSES)

Yes?

Err, sorry to disturb,

but Mr. Nash would like
you to meet him right away.

What for?

To meet a new client.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

What new client?

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

(FOOTSTEPS BUSTLING)

Patrick.

Eliza.

ELIZA: What is this place?

This... is the future. (DOOR OPENS)

(JAUNTY MUSIC)

(DOOR SQUEAKS CLOSED)

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Reception. May I help you?

- CALLER: Reception?
- Yes, sir.

- CALLER: Er, Mr. Britton, sir.
- Sir.

(TELEPHONE CLICKS)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Do you know much about the telephone?

ELIZA: Not much.

I know it was invented in
1875 by Alexander Graham Bell.

- (UPBEAT MUSIC)
- There were, of course,

counterclaims as to who first
came up with the innovation.

But Bell was the first to patent it.

Nine years on, it's really
only the preserve of the rich

and the privileged, given how
costly it is to install and run.

Although, this year has seen
telephone stations installed

in various public places...

shops, telegraph offices...

A yes or no would have sufficed.

As you say, it's being
made more accessible

to ordinary folk.

It's the new gold rush.

This place is at the forefront.

So, why are we here?

The owner of Britannia
wants us to negate

- some rather bad publicity.
- RECEPTIONIST: Yes Mr. Bracewell.

(NEWSPAPER CRINKLES)

Err, Mr. Bracewell will see you now.

- ELIZA: Extraordinary.
- It certainly is.

(LIGHT MUSIC)

Britannia have an engineering workshop

where they design new ways
to improve their product.

Two days ago it was
destroyed by a gas explosion.

Two men were killed, a young
inventor named Alfred Baker,

and the co-founder of the
company, George Davidson.

So there was a gas leak?

According to the newspapers,

the police think
Davidson lighting his pipe

is what ignited the explosion.

But, as for the gas leak,

it seems someone
tampered with the supply.

And the police believe that this someone

works here at Britannia?

Not just someone.

Our new client, Joseph Bracewell.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

My aim, Mr. Nash,

is to put a Britannia telephone

into every household in the country.

And once we've done that,

we will move into the
international markets.

I applaud your ambition, Mr. Bracewell.

I must confess, I've not
yet used one of these.

Err, to, to, to help you fully,

Mr. Bracewell, perhaps we
should try it ourselves?

Be my guest.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(TELEPHONE CLINKS)

OPERATOR: Good afternoon,
Britannia Exchange.

What number do you require?

Ask for the stock exchange.

Err, the stock exchange, please.

OPERATOR: Connecting you
now. Please wait one moment.

(LAUGHS)

Ask for the latest
Britannia share price.

STOCK EXCHANGE CLERK: Stock
Exchange. How can I help you?

Err, please could you advise
on the current share price

for the Britannia Telephone Company?

STOCK EXCHANGE CLERK: One and six.

One and six.

Thank you. Good-bye.

(TELEPHONE CLICKS)

All this dire publicity

is causing the value of my
company to fall by the hour.

Which is why I need you to
get the police off my back,

and find out who is responsible
for this terrible deed.

They have a ridiculous notion

that I wanted George Davidson dead.

Your business partner?

We founded the company together.

I felt it was time was right to expand.

To buy out our rivals.

And Mr. Davidson disagreed?

This disagreement was a minor issue,

not reason for me to kill him.

I gather the police suspect you

because you were supposed to attend
this meeting with Mr. Davidson,

- but you didn't turn up.
- (MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

We had another argument that morning.

I simply... wasn't in
the mood to face him.

I spent the afternoon here in my office.

But that was unusual, was it not,

that you didn't attend
that weekly meeting?

Unheard of, according to the newspapers.

Do not believe everything
you read in the newspapers.

Did you have any grievance with
the other man that was killed?

The err, the young
inventor, Alfred Baker?

No! And for your information,

Alfred wasn't meant
to be at that meeting.

We have to ask these
questions, Mr. Bracewell,

so that we're clear on all
the details of this case.

Well, in that case, let me
be crystal clear with you.

I did not murder George Davidson.

As for Alfred Baker,

he just designed the telephone

that would make this company a fortune.

Why on earth would I want him dead?

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

Why, in God's name, did you
interrogate him like that?

You clearly weren't going
to ask him anything useful.

I've never seen you so in awe.

I was not in awe, I just think
him an impressive man. A visionary.

I think him rather unsavory.

Ah, you disagree with
my judge of character.

- Quelle surprise.
- What of my judgement?

I'm the one who's going
to be running the office.

I should choose my own staff.

Oh, I see. That's what
this is about, is it?

That's the reason for
this latest sulk du jour.

I do not sulk.

We will discuss this
matter another time.

Right now, we need to
visit the crime scene.

Finally, something we agree on.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Go fetch my carriage.

Detective Phelps.

Just the man.

Inspector Phelps, actually.

Well, soon to be.

You're taking over from
Inspector Wellington?

But there's been no formal announcement.

Just needs to be rubber stamped.

And why hasn't it been?

(STREET CHATTER)

Well, I'm sure it's
just a matter of time.

May I offer my congratulations

on what will be a
well-deserved promotion.

So, I assume your presence here
is not just to keep me company.

As ever, you assume right.

We've been hired to investigate
the Britannia explosion

and we'd like to take a
look at the crime scene.

I take it your fire experts
have assessed the scene?

Still waiting.

They've been held up elsewhere.

Which is a bugger,

'cause we can't progress with the case

until they've had a gander.

Well, perhaps in the meantime,

you might allow us
to look for ourselves?

Hmm. Good one.

Now, hop it!

I see the prospect of a
promotion hasn't endowed you

with any more decorum, Detective Phelps.

Let me give you some
advice, Miss Scarlet,

I'm the skipper now.

So you need to start
showing me a bit of respect.

Oh, I've always seen respect
as something you earn.

Oh, how Miss Scarlet does like to jest.

You surely know that our respect for you

is unimpeachable, Inspector Phelps,

and we would be most grateful...

- Under no circumstances let them inside.
- OFFICER: Yes, sir.

Even if the Queen
herself comes down here

and says you'll be hanged
for treason if you don't...

Still don't let them in.

(PLAYFUL MUSIC)

That went well.

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

Well, we're not all blessed with
your powers of duplicity, Patrick.

If by that you mean charm and persuasion

to keep my business afloat,

then perhaps you should try it sometime.

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- Whether you like it or not,

you have to learn to play the game.

(NASH SIGHS)

What is wrong with you at the moment?

This can't just be about
the hiring of staff.

Is this about your Inspector leaving?

Nothing is wrong with me.

He's not my Inspector.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDE)

(DISTANT STREET CHATTER)

What I'm about to say,
you may not like...

- in fact, you definitely won't like it.
- Well...

Then perhaps you shouldn't say it.

The work you've had up
until now from Scotland Yard

has been on account of your
friendship with Inspector Wellington.

I secured that work because
I'm good at what I do.

And I'm not disputing that,

but the fact remains your
friendship helped a great deal.

But now Phelps is in
charge, he's not obliged

- to tolerate you.
- Tolerate me?

Do you want this business to flourish

under your command or not?

Yes, of course I do.

Then make it your business
to get along with Phelps.

And will you please stop sulking!

For the last time, I do not sulk!

Good, because my mother was a sulker

and it brings back bad memories.

(LAUGHING)

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Fine.

What do you want me to do?
Go back to him and grovel?

No.

That ship has sailed.

I'll attempt to obtain crime
scene photos from my usual source.

Well, in the meantime, let's
do some digging on our dead men.

I suggest we start
with the young inventor.

- (OMINOUS MUSIC)
- Speak to his widow.

See if anyone had a grudge.

(HOOVES CLOPPING DISTANTLY)

You both look very happy.

How long were you married, Mrs. Baker?

Six months.

And it's Betty.

Your husband was an avid reader?

He had every book on
engineering imaginable.

They were his pride and joy.

Mrs. Baker...

Betty...

can you think of anyone who had
a grudge against your husband?

Take your time.

Err, Daniel Archer.

He, err, works at Britannia.

Alfred started as his apprentice.

He was full of resentment

because Britannia wanted
to go with Alfred's design

for their new telephone, and not his.

His boss Mr. Davidson,
said he'd be famous.

He called it, 'an ingenious invention.'

And Mr. Archer... wasn't happy?

My husband believed he
tried to steal his plans

for the new telephone.

And what made him think that?

He hid them...

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

under the floorboard in his office.

As insurance, he said,

on account of it being
such a competitive industry.

Then one day

last month, he found
Mr. Archer in his office,

looking shifty, my husband said.

When he'd gone, Alfred said the rug

that covered the floorboard
had been disturbed.

How would Mr. Archer have known

where your husband hid his plans?

Well, Alfred couldn't work it out.

Mr. Davidson would
never have told anyone.

He was as worried as Alfred

about keeping the new design a secret.

And where are the plans now?

Alfred moved them.

He didn't tell me where.

But he was certain Mr.
Archer was after them.

(HOOVES CLOPPING DISTANTLY)

NASH: So, you're working
on your own design

for Britannia's new
telephone, Mr. Archer?

Hmm. It will be a great improvement,

most notably in terms of
sound quality and reliability.

I understand Alfred Baker

had designed a new telephone as well.

- They're calling it... the Upright.
- Woeful name.

Well, whatever it was to be called,

the design was applauded
by the powers that be

here at Britannia. (CLANK)

Alfred Baker was once your
apprentice, was he not?

- And I taught him well.
- Hmm.

But to have your junior surpass you...

(CLANK)

it's been difficult.

(CLANK)

- Competition can be a good thing.
- Err...

Da Vinci and Michelangelo.

Ingres and Delacroix...

Well, Mr. Bracewell said his designs

were going to change the world.

But now he and his telephone are gone,

so the road is clear
for you, Mr. Archer.

Hmm.

I have work to do.

Can you tell us where you were
on the day of the explosion?

- Here. Working on my design.
- NASH: Hmm.

Did anyone else see you?

You are not the police,

and I'm not obliged to talk to you.

And will you please
stop touching my things!

(HIGH TEMPO MUSIC)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

(STREET CHATTER)

Well, we now know he has a temper.

First rule of being a
private investigator -

deliberately vex the suspect
to test their temperament.

(CUPBOARDS CLOSE)

Patrick...

I can just about take you
advising me on my business skills,

but please do not presume
to lecture me on deduction.

There's an article in here about
Britannia's current telephone.

Apparently, there
were three main issues:

cost, sound quality and
tendency to short circuit.

No wonder Bracewell was so
desperate for a new model.

Clarence did some digging on
Bracewell's partner, George Davidson.

- And?
- He has no family, no close relations,

no financial issues or known grudges.

Well, apart from the one
held by his business partner,

- Joseph Bracewell...
- Forget the client.

We need to concentrate...
on Daniel Archer.

He has a clear motive: he
wanted to remove his rival.

And he has no alibi.

- He should be our prime suspect.
- (KNOCKING ON DOOR)

(DOOR SQUEAKS OPEN)

- Delivery from your friend at the Met.
- Thank you.

(PACKAGING OPENING)

- (PHOTOS SHUFFLE)
- Hmm, these are good.

They're very good.

- The crime scene?
- Yeah.

- How peculiar.
- What?

That looks like a scorch mark
from where the gas was ignited.

So?

Well, if, as the police...

suspect, it was Davidson's
pipe that ignited the gas,

why is the scorch mark on the opposite
side of the room from the bodies?

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Hurry up, you useless vermin!

We haven't got all day!

(PEOPLE TALKING)

ELIZA: Good morning, Detective Phelps.

Yeah, it was, before you turned up.

We wondered if the Britannia explosion

had been assessed yet
by your fire expert?

They're now stuck with a factory
blaze in bloody St. Albans.

- Get a move on!
- OFFICER: Come on!

Dare I say it, Detective Phelps,

you seem a little overstretched.

That's one word for it.

Let us lighten your load.

We can help with the Britannia case.

- I don't need your help.
- And let you take all the credit.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

Ten minutes at the crime scene.

That's all you're getting.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

NASH: Good, aren't I?

(STREET CHATTER)

(SLOW FOOTSTEPS)

Something around this area
must have caused the spark.

(TENSE MUSIC)

Someone has cut the
insulation off these wires.

Why would they do that?

(BAG CLICKS OPEN)

(BAG CLICKS CLOSED)

(SPARKING)

'Prone to short circuit when connected.'

It's one of the known faults
of the Britannia telephone.

That's what ignited the gas, Patrick.

It wasn't Davidson's pipe.

It was a phone call.

Which means whoever made
that call is our murderer.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

2,512 telephones in operation in London.

How do you know these things?

I do research, Patrick.

You should try it sometime.

(NASH SIGHS)

- The question is...
- (WHISKEY POURS)

from which telephone
was the fatal call made?

I understand the telephone
exchange log all call details,

so, customers can be
charged accordingly.

So, they might be able
to help us narrow it down.

- It's worth a try.
- Hmm.

Provided we can persuade them
to show us their call log.

I suspect all calls are
treated confidentially, and...

we don't have a warrant.

Inspector Bates, Scotland
Yard, at your service, Madam.

Oh... are there any
other officers available?

Inspector Bates has an
excellent track record.

Well... he definitely works best alone.

So, while he visits the exchange,

I'll continue my research
into the telephone.

- NASH: Hmm.
- See if I can glean any further insight

into Alfred Baker's new design.

What?

I much prefer it when
you're not sulking.

- (PAGE FLIPS)
- I don't sulk.

- I brood.
- (PAGE FLIPS)

I know we've been at odds
over the hiring of staff,

- (SOFT MUSIC)
- but you've not been yourself lately.

(PAGE FLIPS)

Is it the Inspector?

The fact that he's gone?

(PAGE FLIPS)

Inspector Bates is waiting.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDE)

(BOOK SNAPS SHUT)

(CUPBOARD DOORS CLOSE)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDE)

- (STREET CHATTER)
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

(TELEPHONE EXCHANGE CHATTER)

Yes, Madam.

- CLERK: Can I help you?
- CLERK: Yes, of course.

- (LOUD CHATTER)
- (PHONES RINGING)

Good afternoon.

Which number do you
require? Certainly, sir.

Please hold.

(LOUD OFFICE SOUNDS CONTINUE)

Mr. Underwood?

Yes?

Inspector Bates, Scotland Yard.

How do you do, Inspector?

This is quite the
operation you've got here.

Never seen one of those before.

Err, they allow me to listen in,

ensure that my operators
are performing at their best.

How may I help you, Inspector?

I'm investigating the Britannia murders.

- You read about them?
- I have.

Terrible business.

We need to identify the source
of a particular telephone call,

so, I'd be grateful to
look at your call log

for the day in question,
the 21st of September.

Yes, Inspector. One moment.

I'll just fetch the logbook.

Sorry, Inspector...

it just occurred to me, I err...

well, I should really
see your warrant first.

- (TENSE MUSIC)
- My warrant?

As you can appreciate, all
our calls are confidential.

It's more than my job's
worth, err, to break protocol,

unless, of course, you have a warrant?

Alright, fine. I'm not an
inspector from Scotland Yard.

But if you allow me to see the call log,

I'll make it worth your while.

(TELEPHONES RINGING)

If you're not a policeman,
then what the hell are you?

I am a private detective.

A what?

And don't even think
about coming back again!

You're lucky I'm not
reporting you to the police!

(DOOR SLAMS)

(SIGHS)

(BUSY FOOTSTEPS)

(DOOR OPENS)

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- A copy of Alfred Baker's contract

- with Britannia.
- Oh.

Umm...

- Oh, shall I...
- Err, yes.

(CHUCKLES) Got it, got it.

Thank you.

Have you read this, Clarence?

- Yeah, briefly.
- (PAGES TURN)

George Davidson and Joseph Bracewell

were each going to
receive 45% of the profits

from this new telephone.

While Mr. Baker, the
genius that invented it,

just got just 10%.

Err, my contact at Britannia insisted
on a bottle of Lynch-Bages '64

(CHUCKLES) in exchange
for that contract,

so, I... I will, of course, be
charging that to the company?

Oh, just charge it to Mr. Nash.

"Upon death, an
individual share of profits

will be distributed equally
among surviving parties."

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

You know what this means?

No doubt I will end up paying
for that bottle of wine myself.

No, it means that Joseph Bracewell

is now entitled to all the profits

from Alfred Baker's telephone.

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Oh, I'm...

I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss Scarlet.

What is it, Betty?

I came back from
visiting Alfred's mother.

The poor woman's in such a state.

And as I walked in, I heard
someone going out the back door.

Terrified, I was.

But when I went to check,
whoever it was had already gone.

I did contact the police, but...

They still haven't come.

They're a little
overstretched at the moment,

but you did the right
thing coming to me.

And are you sure that nothing's missing?

Nothing that I can see.

They didn't touch my jewelry case.

Not that I've got much.

(OMINOUS MUSIC)

Have you rearranged these at all?

That was Alfred's favorite set of books.

Where's volume two?

It was... definitely there before.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

ELIZA: Inspector Bates, I presume?

(SIGHS)

I hear Inspector Bates was thwarted,

- so you resorted to plan B.
- Hmm.

I went through all my files twice,

to see if I knew anyone
else who worked here.

So I hear. You left the
office in quite a mess.

Clarence was not happy.

So, you found someone?

The night shift manager,
an Elmer Goodheart.

Not that there's
anything good about him.

A few years back I
put him away for fraud.

His shift starts at eight o'clock.

And Clarence said Miss
Baker had a break-in.

What was taken?

The only thing missing was a book.

Inventions That Changed
THE WORLD: Volume Two.

That's it?

Yes.

- But I have a theory.
- Oh, good.

I like it when you say that.

It makes me feel warm inside.

Have you finished?

(CHURCH BELL RINGING)

- Yes.
- I think the book contained the plans

for Alfred's new telephone design.

The ones that Daniel Archer was after.

Well, there he is.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Elmer Goodheart.

I'm sure he's going to
be delighted to see me.

(DOOR OPENS)

(TENSE MUSIC)

That's the supervisor I
spoke to, Mr. Underwood.

- CHARLES: Mr. Underwood.
- UNDERWOOD: Hi, Charles.

Thank you.

(CARRIAGE DOOR OPENS)

(DRIVER INSTRUCTS HORSES)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

He's only a manager,

and yet he can afford his own carriage?

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Striking, isn't it?

(TELEPHONES RINGING)

It certainly is.

The 21st of September.

I appreciate your
assistance, Mr. Goodheart.

- The handwriting is incredibly neat.
- Hmm.

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

The explosion happened at
thirty-six minutes past two... Here.

A call was made to the Britannia
Engineering Workshop, from the...

Britannia Telephone Company.

Office of J. Bracewell.

Damn it.

(LOUD PUB CHATTER)

On no account can we speak
to Mr. Bracewell about this.

Of course, we speak to him,
Patrick. He's our prime suspect.

He's also a client, and a
well-paying one at that. No.

We keep our sights on Daniel Archer.

Joseph Bracewell benefits financially

from the two deaths.

He's admitted to being in his office,

with his telephone, at
the time of the explosion.

And both you and I agree that
whoever made that phone call

was almost certainly the murderer.

If we accuse Bracewell of murder,

he will fire us and we'll lose our fee!

- But we'll be doing our jobs.
- No, your job

is to do what's best for my business,

and I'm ordering you to
say nothing to Bracewell.

- Ordering me?
- Yes.

We stay on Archer!

(TENSE MUSIC)

(GLASS BANGS)

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR SLAMS CLOSED)

- (TABLECLOTH RUFFLES)
- It's laughable.

He constantly corrects me
and tells me how to behave,

and yet what he's doing
is completely immoral.

I've never met anyone so
bloody-minded and pigheaded!

And before you say anything, no,
I'm not either of those things,

so, I'll thank you to keep
your opinions to yourself.

- I didn't say anything.
- You didn't have to.

(CUTLERY CLANGS)

Inspector Wellington wrote to me again.

- He wants to know if you're upset with him.
- (POT CLANGS)

- Why is he asking you?
- Well, he tried asking you

and got no response.

Lizzie, no matter what you
say, I know that you're angry.

When you were a little girl...

I do not need a story from my childhood

cleverly designed to teach
me a life lesson as an adult.

You have no idea what
the story was going to be.

It was going to be
about the dog, wasn't it?

Fine. You know so much, you can
sort things out for yourself.

Nothing to sort out.

- (SOUP POURS)
- Inspector Wellington has left,

and when he returns we shall
talk and, in the meantime,

I have no intention of
replying to his letters.

- Because you're angry with him?
- Fine!

- (DRAMATIC MUSIC)
- I am angry!

He shouldn't have left! He should
have stayed here and we could have...

Could have what?

I don't know.

And there's your answer.

What is?

The reason why he left.

He went away for your
sake, as well as his,

so, you both could have
had time to work out

what it is you really want.

He's a good man, Lizzie.

He doesn't deserve you
ignoring him like this.

Oh, so all the fault
lies with me, does it?

- Thank you for your loyalty.
- Lizzie...

I've fed up with you, Patrick Nash,

and everyone else
pointing out my faults,

and telling me how to behave

as though I'm completely incapable

of making my own decisions!

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(SIGHS)

(MELANCHOLIC MUSIC)

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

(TELEPHONE RECEIVER CLICKS)

Well, of course, Mr. Bracewell.

(TELEPHONE CLANKS)

Mr. Bracewell will see you now.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(PAGES SHUFFLING)

Do you often accuse
your client of murder?

I'm not accusing you, Mr. Bracewell.

I'm just looking at the
evidence, and it is compelling.

You stood to gain all
profits from the new telephone

on the death of Mr.
Davidson... and Mr. Baker.

Well, I'm the bearer of bad news,

because if that call
came from this telephone,

then it couldn't have
been me who made it.

Because... I was in Ealing.

- Ealing?
- It was at the United Telephone Company.

I've been involved in secret
negotiations to buy them out.

Then why not tell myself and
Mr. Nash that in the first place?

Because it's a highly
competitive industry,

and I didn't want to harm the deal.

It's not yet been sealed.

Perhaps you could also
explain how I can profit

from a telephone that no longer exists?

Mr. Baker made a copy of his plans,

which I'm sure you well know.

I did not know.

Here's how this is going
to work, Miss Scarlet.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

You will bring me Alfred
Baker's plans... immediately.

If you do not,

I will let Mr. Nash know
I'm firing his agency.

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Where have you been?

Ealing.

Well, while you've been
gone, we received...

this telegram from Mr. Bracewell.

He advises, albeit
politely, that we're fired.

How dare you disregard my instructions.

You gave me no choice.

- I was doing my job.
- Your job is to build this business,

not lose us clients.

What the hell is in Ealing, anyway?

Um, well, I was checking on
Mr. Bracewell's new alibi.

- And?
- It stands up.

(LAUGHS IRONICALLY)

(SIGHS)

Where are you going?

To try and persuade
Bracewell to reconsider.

If you are to run this agency,

you must first and
foremost be a businesswoman.

And I will not be returning to Paris

- until you convince me you understand this!
- (DOOR OPENS)

Oh, Mr. Nash...

Mr. Nash! Miss Scarlet?

- Not now, Clarence.
- (DOOR CLOSES)

I've just had word from
my source at the bank.

He informs me that Daniel Archer

has been making regular cash withdrawals

- over the last six months.
- I said not now, Clarence.

Yes, but just one more thing...

Mr. Archer took out a large sum of cash

from his bank account not one hour ago.

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

- (STREET CHATTER)
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

(TENSE MUSIC)

(FOOTSTEPS RUNNING)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

Pleasure doing business with you.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(DOOR OPENS)

What on earth... ?

I found this in your drawer, Mr. Archer.

It's Alfred Baker's
favorite book, I gather.

And one which was
stolen from his bookcase.

As I suspected,

this is where Alfred hid the plans

for his new telephone.

You want to make Alfred Baker's
design and pass it off as your own.

Alfred could never have
designed that telephone

without my tutelage, so...

why should it be that
he gets all the credit?

I just witnessed you giving
Mr. Underwood something.

- (TREACHEROUS MUSIC)
- Money, I suspect.

Show me the contents of
that envelope he gave you,

and perhaps I won't
report you to the police.

(ENVELOPE FLOPS ON DESK)

(PAPER RUSTLES)

This is Pitman shorthand.

My father made me study it.

(PAGES SHUFFLE)

It's transcripts from phone calls.

Got one involving Alfred Baker

in conversation with his
boss, George Davidson.

This is how you knew where
he hid his plans, isn't it?

And to pass yourself off as
the inventor of his telephone,

- you needed him dead.
- That's not true!

And you have absolutely
no proof that it was me!

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Well, the good news is

I've managed to calm Bracewell down.

To do so, I had to paint you as, well...

Let me guess... insubordinate?

On second thoughts, it's
perhaps best I do not share

with you the exact words
I used to describe you.

You were right. (SIGHS)

Of course, I was.

About what?

- (UPBEAT MUSIC)
- Daniel Archer.

Now we just have to prove
that he's the murderer.

(TELEPHONE TRILLING)

I thought I told you to leave.

And now I see you've brought your wife.

I'm not his wife.

We know you're being
paid by people like Archer

to transcribe the conversations
of private telephone calls.

A call was made to the Britannia
Workshop on 21st of September.

It caused the explosion there.

Did Daniel Archer make that call?

I don't know.

I don't know anything, I swear it.

- Do these belong to you?
- Yes,

but they're just
timesheets for the girls.

It's not the contents that
interests me, Mr. Underwood,

but rather the... neatness
of the handwriting.

We'd like to take another
look at the logbook

for the 21st of September.

- (PAGE RUSTLING)
- The other days are varied with...

- (PAGE FLIPS)
- different handwriting,

various operators, I assume.

The day of the murder has been
filled entirely by one person.

You, Mr. Underwood.

(BOOK BANGS ON DESK)

Why?

I was told to.

(DRAWER OPENS)

This blackmail letter
was delivered to me

- (DRAMATIC MUSIC)
- on the night of that explosion,

threatening to expose me.

Ordering you to amend the
details of the call made

to the Britannia Workshop...

to say that it came from
Joseph Bracewell's office.

In order to do that,

I had to replace the
whole page in the logbook

and fill in the entire day myself.

So, where did the call really come from?

From a public telephone in Farringdon.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC)

- (STREET SOUNDS)
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

(CARRIAGE RUMBLES)

Whoever wrote that blackmail
note must be our murderer.

They clearly knew about his 'sideline.'

Maybe it's someone who works here?

My thoughts exactly.

I'll go back in and
compare the handwriting

of the blackmail letter
against the call log.

While you do that,
I'll go to Farringdon.

With any luck, whoever runs the
public phones there will keep records.

A talented detective...

with the upmost integrity.

- What?
- (SOFT MUSIC)

They were the words I used
to describe you to Bracewell.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(DOOR OPENS)

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

We don't keep records of calls made.

How often is this telephone used?

Not much.

People round here,

- they don't really understand it.
- Hmm.

You had a customer here
three days ago, on the 21st.

Early afternoon?

Hmm, do you remember the person?

Absolutely.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

(FINGER TAPPING)

(WHISPERS) Got you.

(TELEPHONE TRILLING)

B. L.

It's the same handwriting
as the blackmail letter.

Yeah.

Elizabeth Landing.

She was an operator here
until about six months ago.

Left to get married.

Ooh. Are you suggesting
that she was the one

- that wrote me the letter?
- Almost certainly.

- Who is she?
- (MYSTERIOUS MUSIC)

Her fiancé worked at Britannia.

Why has she signed her name B and not E?

Because she called herself Betty.

(SOMBER MUSIC)

You wanted Davidson and Bracewell dead.

But Alfred...

that was an accident, wasn't it?

Alfred was never meant
to be at that meeting.

But his boss must have
called him in last minute.

I had no idea...

You stole the keys...

to Alfred's workshop.

You primed the telephone to spark,

punctured the gas pipe and left...

... knowing that by the afternoon,

when Bracewell and Davidson
came for their meeting,

the workshop would be a bomb...

ready to explode.

Then you made the call.

Ten percent! (CRYING)

That's all they gave him.

Ten percent for all the time
and all the work he put in.

I just wanted Alfred to
have what he deserved.

It was so unfair.

Do what you want with me. (SNIFFS)

My life's over now, anyway.

I killed my husband.

My own... beloved... husband. (SOBS)

(TENSE MUSIC)

PHELPS: I said get
in there, you toe-rag!

- (MEN SHOUTING)
- You too, you bloody idiot!

I don't think I can do this.

We gave Phelps our word.

If we give Phelps the credit,
it could seal his promotion.

Is that really what we
want, to be dealing with him?

It'll be you dealing with him.

So, you need to give him the win.

(UPBEAT MUSIC)

Detective Phelps.

Miss Scarlet.

- You got something for me?
- (HOOVES CLOPPING)

The evidence is all in here.

And... just remind me...

who solved this case?

You did, Detective Phelps.

And did I get any help?

At all?

No, Detective Phelps.

That's the right answer.

- (FOOTSTEPS CLIPPING)
- (PEOPLE CHATTERING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

What's going on?

Oh, I contacted the
applicants you favored.

They're here for the interview.

Well, where are you going?

They'll be working for you.

You should be the one
to choose your staff.

Let's just call it a... show of faith.

(SIGHS)

Thank you, Patrick.

Oh, I had that installed.

I thought it might be helpful.

What, to keep checks on me
when you return to Paris?

Why must you always
think the worst of me?

I am simply a man at the
forefront of innovation.

Well, it's no matter. The
technology is still far off

being able to place a call overseas.

But as a man at the
forefront of innovation,

you, of course, knew that.

(PLAYFUL MUSIC)

Of course, I did.

(LAUGHS)

(DOOR OPENS)

(HOOVES CLOPPING)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(CHURCH BELL RINGS)

(QUIET STREET SOUNDS)

(SOFT MUSIC)

(CHOPPING)

(SLOW FOOTSTEPS)

What are you doing?

Helping.

(KNIFE SCRAPING)

So...

Are you still angry with me?

Are you still angry with me?

I asked first.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have gone
behind your back like that.

I just thought I was
doing the right thing.

I know, and I understand why you did it.

And you're right.

I... Inspector Wellington
leaving has caused me some...

upset.

And you miss him?

I'm only saying this because I love you,

but I think replying to him
would make you feel better.

I think you're right.

Well, you're always right.

I keep saying that to
Barnabus, but will he listen?

(FOOTSTEPS CLIPPING)

- (DRAWER OPENS)
- Ivy, I hate cauliflower.

(DRAWER CLOSES)

You'll eat what I cook
for you, young lady.

(SOFT MUSIC)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Good evening. My name is Miss Scarlet.

I believe you are...

an associate of my father's.

He said there'd be food.

Err, yes, I... cooked a
smoked ham this afternoon.

I'll cut you a slice.

(PEN SCRATCHES)

Dear William,

I'm happy to hear

things are going well
for you in New York.

It's been an interesting week here.

But...

on balance, a good one.

(THEME MUSIC)

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