All language subtitles for The.Doctor.Blake.Mysteries.S02E03.A.Foreign.Field.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

He's all
right, I suppose.

She's so pretty.
- Oh.

But what about him?
- Oh.

Cary Grant's gorgeous.

Isn't he?

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

What was that?

Anyway.

Hello?

Hello?

Wonder how long
they've been following us.

What?

That man.

What about him?

He was here yesterday.

So?

He-- he hasn't moved at all.

Good morning.

Excuse me?

Oh my god.

Morning.

What we got?

We don't know.

Checked his pockets?

No.

Must have slipped our minds.

Packet of cigarettes.

Used train ticket from Bendigo
via Castlemaine the day

before yesterday.

A numbered key tag.

I don't know where from.

A money clip with 30
quid, but, uh, no ID.

All right.

Well done.

Thank you.

His clothes are damp.

Dew probably.

And judging by rigor mortis
I'd say the poor chap's

been here for at least 12 hours.

The woman who
called it in said she saw him

here about 3 o'clock yesterday.

She didn't realize he was dead.

Right.

Well, no obvious
signs of foul play.

Initial impression,
natural causes.

However, he looks
fit, doesn't he?

Finished?

Yes.

Well, until the autopsy.

Everything ready, Sister?

It's doctor, actually.

Alice Harvey, the new
pathology registrar.

Oh.

I do apologize.

No need.

It happens all the time.

Well, it shouldn't.

Dr. Lucien Blake.

I thought you'd be younger.

I used to be.

Oh.

No one told me you
had a sense of humor.

Before we start, your
dead man has removed all

the labels from his clothing.

I assume there's a reason.

Yes.

I'm sure they probably is.

Skinny rotational.

Perhaps simply aesthetics.

Any suggestions?

Not yet.

Well then, doctor, shall we?

Adult male, approximately
40 to 45 years of age.

Six foot tall,
blue eyes, brown hair.

I think you'll find
the hair is gray.

It's been died.

You see here, there's
a hint of regrowth.

Why would a man do that?

That's a
very good question.

Vanity perhaps.

Anyhow, no distinguishing
scars or tattoos.

No puncture marks.

His nails are very
well manicured.

No calluses, but
this is interesting.

Bruising on the knuckles.

Was he trying
to disguise himself?

Dying his hair.

Was he disguising himself?

Well, I suppose it's
possible, but what

do you make of the knuckles?

A fight.

Rigor mortis in major
and minor muscle groups.

Livor mortis is fixed.

It fits with him 9:00 yesterday.

I concur.

I'm glad.

You're not going
to use that, are you?

Well, unfortunately the body
didn't come with a zipper.

We have
disposable scalpels now.

The American
Journal of Pathology

recommends their use of
a conventional blades.

Is that right?

It pays to keep up.

Well, I'll keep that in mind.

Hey, perhaps you might
like to step out and get

yourself some fresh air.

I'm fine, but I
wouldn't mind a cigarette.

Doctor.

American Journal of Pathology.

How about that?

It was such a shock--

It was.

to see all those ants.

Oh, sorry.

You're fine, ma'am.

You mentioned you
saw him yesterday.

Yes.

I-- I was going to the pictures.

What time was that?

Rush on 3 o'clock.

I was running late
for a matinee.

Uh-huh.

And on the way back?

No.

I went home through the town.

And when you
saw him this morning,

the man was, uh, in
exactly the same position?

Is that right?

Yes.

That's how I knew
something was wrong.

He must have been
dead the whole time.

And-- and what
about you, Ms. Harris?

Were you in the
gardens on Sunday?

I spent Sunday
visiting a sick aunt.

She's had diphtheria.

Was there anything
else you can tell me?

Um, no, don't think--

Actually yes.

This morning in the bushes--
- Oh.

Forgot, yes.

we were followed by a man.

Did you see him?

He stayed in the bushes, and
then when we were near the body

he ran away.

We only saw him from behind.

Uh, short dark hair,
but taller than me?

That's right.

You know him?

Second report this week.

Did you actually see
him with the body?

He was close by when
we saw him, wasn't he?

He was.

I'll let the
superintendent know.

The man we found, who was he?

We're still working that out.

Time to open up
your stomach, eh?

And let's say we try one of
these newfangled scalpels.

You're ruling
out a heart attack.

Cause of death was
a catastrophic failure

of multiple body systems.

Death would have been very
rapid and very painful.

He was poisoned.

I've sent tissue samples
to the lab for toxicology.

Funny thing, the stomach gases
had a very particular odor.

I can't quite put
my finger on it.

But I inhaled a
hell of a lung full

when I cut the stomach open.

What were the contents?

Well, I took some
samples to do my own tests.

His last meal interestingly
enough was a pasty.

It was only partly digested.

So we talking
accidental here, or--

No.

I doubt it.

The poison was very toxic
and very fast acting.

Suicide?

Possibly.

And there was bruising
on his knuckles.

Looks as if he'd been in a
fight the day before he died.

Where's Charlie?

Ah.

He's following up on
witness statements.

How'd you go with
the new pathologist?

You knew about her.

I hear she takes
some getting used to.

So unidentified victim,
unidentified poison.

What else have you got?

A terrible headache.

Join the club.

Good day, was it?

I have a raging headache.

Well, that should help it.

I am a doctor, Jane.

Well, in that case,
you can prescribe

me a Sherry after dinner.

Done.

Wonderful.

Amaretto.

That'll do for now.

What happened?

He was poisoned.

Poisoned?

with what?

We don't know yet.

Well, you won't catch
me walking around there.

Not with that man
creeping about.

Jean.

Well Mattie, he is a menace.

We don't know that.

Oh yes we do.

You know he followed
Lucy Cantrell home.

Is everything all right?

Cyanide.

What?

Bitter
almonds run and hide,

that's the smell of cyanide.

They taught us that
in basic training.

They thought at
some point that we

might be exposed to gas attack.

Uh, smell the scent
of new mown hay.

Frost and gas is on the way.

There were dozens of them.

What?

You think the body
in the pub was gas?

Well, it's possible.

And today-- forgive
the gruesome details,

but today I opened
up his stomach

and copped a lung full
of his stomach gas.

And I'm sorry, but it gave me
the most horrendous headache

and I couldn't identify
the smell until just now.

Amaretto, almonds, cyanide.

Excuse me.

How's the headache?

Oh.

It'll get there.

I brought you some Bex.

Ah.

Thank you, Jane.

What's in there?

Well, I took a sample
of his stomach contents

and I am going to mix it with
ferrous sulfide and acid.

Now, if the cyanide was
present in the food,

this should change color.

But unfortunately,
it's not changing.

So you still don't
know how he was poisoned?

No.

I'm afraid I don't.

And it's rather sad, really.

You know, his clothes
were soaked with dew

by the time we got to him.

Oh.

He was there all night.

Yes.

Who was he?

I don't know that either.

Well, when you do
find out who he was,

make sure someone
tells his family.

Goodnight, Lucien.

Goodnight, Jean.

Apparently he pulled
the train from Bendigo,

but there's no
record of him there.

He's not on the missing
persons register in Melbourne.

I'll release his photo
to the paper to see

if we can't get anything.

What are we looking at?

Well, cyanide isn't that
difficult to get a hold of.

It's used in mining,
cleaning jewelry,

used in some pesticides.

The thing is, we still don't
know how it was administered.

- Cigarettes?
- No.

Checked them, nothing.

What?

Well, we tracked it down.

The key belongs to a locker
at the train station.

Go and check it out.

Well, hang on.

We still don't know what
form the poison came in.

We don't know what's
in that locker.

I'm just saying, it'll
pay to be careful.

Take [inaudible] with you, and
you might want to use a mask.

Actually, do you
think the doctor

could accompany me instead?

Certainly.

Um, yes, Charlie, of course.

Great.

Meet you out front.

Yes.

Looks like you're
growing on him.

Area's clear.

Good.

So what are we
expecting to find?

Don't know

But you think it
could be booby trapped?

It's possible.

Seems our man's been trying hard
to keep his identity hidden.

Yeah.

The boss said you're
just back from China.

That's right.

Wow.

What was it like?

Fascinating.

In what way?

Why the interest, Charlie?

"Biggles in the Gobi" desert.

Ah.

Used to read it to
my younger brothers.

Man, it sounded amazing.

They like it?

Not half as much as I did.

Well, perhaps I'll tell
you about it sometime.

Now these intimidating
looking things,

straps go around the
back of the head.

Believe me, I've
had some practice.

Well, end's been sharpened.

Yes.

Yes.

He was expecting trouble
at some point, wasn't he?

Yeah.

Shirts, dressing
gown, shoes, socks.

All the labels removed.

What's that, Charlie?

Poetry.

Uh, The
Return of Persephone.

Persephone.

It's a-- it's a new on me too.

Hey, doc?

Porter's Rooming House.

Thank you, Charlie.

With you in a tick.

Ah.

Thank you.

You know Charlie, China
was terrifying in fact.

I was in Shanghai, but there
were stories going around.

Stories about what was
happening in the countryside.

Didn't quite make it to
the Gobi Desert I'm afraid.

So what were you doing there?

Oh.

Family matters.

I also managed to catch up
with a couple of contacts.

You know, have, a
chat, people I knew.

Anyone interesting?

Oh yes.

The China's at a prosper--

Can I help you?

Um, Senior Constable
Davis from Ballarat Police.

This is Dr. Blake.

How do you you?

Do you, uh,
recognize this bloke?

It's all right.

We just want to find out what we
can about him, for his family.

Big bloke.

Brown hair.

Bit of an accent.

He stayed here two nights ago.

Had a fight with another border.

That one?

Who knows.

Yeah.

The bloke was a bit of a refo.

Did he leave a name?

An address?

John Smith.

Funny name for a foreigner.

And no forwarding address.

Uh, that bloke your man had
a punch up with, he's working

at a Chandler's orchard.

Name's Carmello Benetti.

Yeah.

Well thanks for scaring
off half my workforce.

Well, what do you
reckon I come back

and we do a sweep
of everyone's IDs?

So what's Benetti
going down this time?

You know?

Routine inquiries.

Is this one of your blokes?

No.

He's too white for this job.

Don't keep it any
longer, all right?

Should be working,
unlike the rest of them.

Is there anything
else we should know?

Yeah.

You speak Wong?

Benetti?

Please.
Please.

No English.

Mr. Benetti, I'm arresting you
on charges of assaulting police

and resisting arrest.

You have to say anything,
but anything you do say--

Save your breath.

He doesn't understand.

against you.

Charlie, Charlie,
don't touch your face.

Don't put your hands
anywhere near your mouth.

He's thrown pesticide at you.

What's the pesticide?

It's for the possums.

What's the active ingredient?

Cyanide.

What the bloody hell do
you think you were doing?

Sorry.

Is this
where you're staying?

Si.

Do you know this man?

Si.

Know his name?

Arsal.

Thank you, Mr. Benetti.

Two nights ago, did you
and this man have a fight?

Si.

And he did this to your eye?

Very strong.

A

Mr. Benetti, why fight?

Libro.

You fought over a book?

Si.

I teach myself English.

I pick up his book.

He's angry.

We argue.

We fight.

Sunday afternoon,
where were you?

Jardine.

Lieutenant, gardens.

Si.

Did you kill this man?

This man dead from poison.

Did you do it?

He kills the man
over a book of poetry.

Prior to confrontation,
he has access to cyanide

and he was in the
gardens on Sunday.

Poetry.

You know there was a
poem in the man's suitcase

from the station that
were torn out of the book.

Um, excuse me.

Yes.

Here we are.

Look.

The Return of Persephone
gliding through the still.

He made no sound,
ring shot, and then

death dropped almost infinite--

yes.

But then he must've force
fed him the damn pesticide.

How is that possible?

Well, he is an
aggressive beggar.

Lawson, imagine.

Imagine if I tried to force
this poem down your throat.

I wouldn't.

Well, now you see, that's
what I'm talking about.

In plain sight on
a Sunday afternoon,

but then he tries to force
our man to swallow poison

and no one sees anything?

Look--
- Hey.

Exactly.

Sorry to interrupt.

Um, this is Mrs. Lundqvist.

Yes?

Excuse me, but I saw this.

This is my husband.

It's him.

His hair is darker, though.

Full name.

Sven.

Sven Lundqvist.

Nationality?

Swedish, originally.

You bastard.

Yeah.

Mrs. Lundqvist, you might
need to explain yourself.

Three years we were married
and one day he just disappears.

Gone.

How long ago was this?

A year ago.

All that time I never knew.

I thought something horrible
must have happened to him.

Why something horrible?

Husband doesn't just
disappear for no reason.

I imagined all
these awful things,

but he was here all
the time 50 miles away.

Probably took up with
some other woman.

50 miles?

I live in Castlemaine.

And I'm still his wife, so
anything he left behind,

it's mine.

God knows he left
me with nothing.

What brought
you to Ballarat?

Visiting my brother.

And what line
of work is he in?

He's a jeweler.

And did you drive
down from Castlemaine?

No.

I caught the train.

Why?

We might continue this down at
the station if you don't mind.

Is that necessary?

Yes, it is.

He abandons her.

She hears nothing for a year
and then quite by chance

happens to see him
on the same train.

Is this where you
tell me that poisoning

is usually a woman's crime?

Isn't it?

Jealousy is a much stronger
motive than an argument

over a book of poetry.

And so is gaining
financially from death.

Now, we've been thinking the
poison was forced on him.

What if it was something
he took without realizing?

Something she offered him?

I thought you said
it wasn't in his food.

Well, it wasn't.

I'm just trying to
work things out.

Well, what if it was
in liquid form perhaps?

Sir?

Well, it--

I've been talking to
witnesses from the gardens.

A couple of them
remembered seeing your man,

and he wasn't alone.

Did they say who he is with?

It was a woman,
with blonde hair,

and apparently
they were kissing.

Bring them in.

Let's see if they recognize her.

If we'll just head
through this door.

I'll, um-- I'll definitely speak
to your parents about that.

Just step this way.

None of them recognized her.

No one?

Well, they all said
that the woman was blonde,

but none of them saw her face.

How long can we keep her here?

Couple more hours and
we'll have to release her.

What do you have in mind?

Not really in the
mood for this, Lucien.

Thank you anyway, Jean.

Now--

This is where that
poor man was found.

Yes.

Um, would you mind
turning around to face me?

Hmm.

Yes, and, um, come
a little closer.

Thank you.

Now, what can you see?

Well, you obviously.

No.

I mean behind me.

Trees.

Some bushes.

Right.

Apparently she had her arms
around him, around his--

around his neck.

Yes.

Now, still not entirely sure
how this is supposed to work.

Oh.

What part exactly?

Well, cyanide is fast acting,
and there'd be convulsions

and involuntary moans.

Apparently no one
noticed a damn thing.

Well, maybe that's why
she had her arms around him,

so no one could see
what was happening.

Yes, perhaps.

Lucien, there's
someone in the bushes.

What?

Really?

Right.

Hello?

Now don't be alarmed.

I just want to talk with you.

Bloody hell.

Jean, are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

Let's go home.

Um, just bear with me.

Lucien?

Yes, of course.

Have you any
idea what's going on?

Allow me.

What was all that about?

Well, I--

I'm not entirely sure.

Give that one to me.

It's heavy, though.

Yes.

The more I find out,
the less I seem to know.

Oh.

You'll work it out.

You think he saw what happened?

Bloody hell.

Come on.

Charlie, where
did you find him?

Same place.

He must have gone
back there after you

and Mrs. Beazley left.

It's all right.
It's all right.

We just want to speak with you.

Save your breath, doc.

Interview room.

Calm down.

His hiding place
in that park is

a little way behind the tree.

If he was there Sunday, he might
have seen the woman's face.

Yeah.

Well, I don't know what
kind of chances of getting

any sense out of that one.

I have an idea.

Davis, Ms. O'Brien will
sit it on the interview.

It's all right Charlie.

She's done quite a lot of
work with the impaired.

He's impaired all right.

Just see what
you can find out.

Hello.

I'm Mattie O'Brien.

Hey, settle down, all right?

It's all right, Davis.

You're Aaron, aren't you?

Can you take those
handcuffs off him, please?

Why on earth would I do that?

Because I think it'll
help him calm down.

Please.

All right.

Hey, I'm gonna take the
cuffs off you, all right?

Hey, do not move from that seat.

Do you hear me?

Is that better?

You like the gardens, don't you?

Do you like the trees?

What do you do there?

Two days ago, did you see a
man and a woman under a tree?

A man and a woman from
your special place.

Did you see them?

And what were they doing?

Did he see her face?

We're not sure.

We think he did, but it might
not have registered with him.

Well, what did
register with him?

He noticed she
had a full figure.

Would
have told you that.

Not in so many words.

Oh.

Tell me this hasn't come down
to the size of a suspects--

Excuse me?

How much longer am I
expected to sit here?

Not much longer, ma'am.

We just--

Do you mind?

I'll let the
superintendent know.

Sorry.

Just stand there.

So is that her?

Yeah.

I've got no idea.

Um, was that the
woman in the park?

Mate, just focus.

Charlie.

Was that her?

Uh, she was curvier than that?

OK.

Mrs. Lundqvist?

I came forward
because I thought

I was doing the right thing.

I've been insulted.

I've been made to wait.

I've been stared at.

You have no idea what it's like.

No idea.

I am so sorry.

All this time not knowing
what had happened to him,

only to find out he'd--

he'd simply walked away.

You have every
right to be angry.

I thought he loved me.

Please.

They think I poisoned him.

And I hate to
ask, but did you?

No, of course not.

Can you think of a reason
why anyone would want to?

No.

Then tell me about him.

He had a way of listening
to you when he talked.

He actually listened,
not like Australian men.

He was always very
popular with the women.

Was he?

Wasn't that he was
terribly good looking even.

It was just that
he listened to you.

Yeah.

What else can you tell me?

He loved music.

At night he put on his
records and we'd talk.

What about?

Future mostly.

He never liked to
talk about the past.

Tell me, do you
think Lundqvist

was in fact his real name?

Of course it's his real name.

It's my name now.

Why would you ask that?

Well, no reason, really.

I-- I'm dreadfully sorry.

Forgive me for asking.

At least now I know
what happened to him.

Excuse me?

Um, I'm looking for a poem.

I'm not entirely
sure who wrote it.

Uh, what's the poem?

The Return of Persephone.

A.D. Hope, wonderful writer.

You're the second person
that's asked for him this week.

- Ah.
- Just over here.

Huh?

Must be out on loan.

I don't remember
checking it out.

Who else was asking after it?

A Dutch fellow.

Frankly I was surprised
you knew anything

about Australian poetry.

Quite.

How did you know he was Dutch?

Oh.

He told me.

It's a wonderful poem, isn't it?

Quite sad, but rather--

rather physical if
you get my meaning.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

Sir?

Would you like me to
reserve the book for you

when the gentleman returns it?

That's-- that's quite all
right, but thank you anyway.

Can I help you?

Yes.

Dr. Lucien Blake,
police surgeon.

Ms. Patrick, is it?

Yes.

He's with the police.

Thanks.

Yes?

Hello.

Um, just a few extra
questions if I may.

Ms. Patrick, did you enjoy
the movie you saw on Sunday?

Um, goodness, what--

"Bridge on the River Kwai?"

No.

"Indiscreet."

"Indiscreet," yeah.

The body you discovered, that
poor, poor chap, he was Dutch,

wasn't he?

We don't seem to have
it on our records.

But you spoke with
him, didn't you?

No.

What are you implying?

Is everything all right?

I'd like you to leave.

Of course.

You don't happen to have a
book of poetry by A.D. Hope?

Please leave, now.

Thank you both for your time.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Um, I was here
earlier about the--

You're with the police.

What do you want?

The gentlemen we
were asking after,

did he happen to leave
anything in his room?

No.

Mind if I take a look?

There's another
bloke in there now.

But I cleaned the room
before he went in.

There was nothing there.

Right.

Did he have any visitors?

No.

Any female callers?

No.

He was a very nice man.

Very decent.

Now if you don't mind--

Yes, he was.

He was a very decent man.

You see, the thing is, he died
the day after he stayed here.

And that's why I'm here, and I'm
looking for a book of poetry.

He gave it to you, didn't he?

He said he didn't
need it anymore.

May I say it?

Please?

What do you need it for?

I'm really not sure.

Do you mind if I--

if I hang onto it for a bit?

I-- I promise I'll
get it back to you.

I'm so sorry he died.

He was different.

Yes, he was.

Thank you.

What kind of code?

Well, I'm guessing
it's some type of one

time pad encryption algorithm.

In English.

Well, it uses a series
of letters and numbers.

The letters correspond
to the numbers,

and there's a key, a certain
page the algorithm refers to.

Now you combine the two,
you have a simple code.

Almost unbreakable unless
you've got the right key.

How the hell do
you know all this?

Well, I may have
come across something

similar after the war.

But my point is this.

I think our man in the morgue
was involved in some kind

of intelligence work.

And you don't seem
at all surprised.

Well, we've been
getting some phone

calls people, recognizing
the photo in the paper.

Woman in Stawell had an affair
with him five years ago.

According to her
he was a Norwegian

by the name of Tor Olsen.

He walked out on her as well.

Uh, an affair in
Shepparton when he

was Dutch and Niels Vanderberg.

Rail was past immigration.

Names belong to children
of deceased immigrants.

Bloody hell.

Somehow he got
hold of all the records.

So he cuts all the
labels off his clothing.

He dyed his hair.

Throw this code
business into the mix.

You think you can crack this?

I can try.

Well, we've got a day.

We've gotta get that
body out of the morgue.

We don't even have
a name for him yet.

Well, we better
get a move on then.

I've, uh, been fielding
calls about you as well.

Who from?

Federal police.

The army.

Wanting to know about
your recent travels.

Charlie showing interest too.

What exactly did you
do after war, Blake?

Well, I could tell you, but
then I'd have to kill you.

This is no joke.

I know.

All right.

Corresponding numbers 2, 32, 33.

Off to a flying start, Lucien.

Lucien, I'm
heading to bed.

Is there anything you need?

Um, no.

I don't think so, Jean.

Thank you.

Is that your key?

Hopefully.

Do you really think
there is spies in Ballarat?

Oh.

Not spies as such.

Just people who work
for other governments.

They're everywhere.

Is that what you used to do?

Yes.

For a time it was.

Maybe this man was a Soviet.

Well, perhaps.

You know, there's a story going
around about Soviet agents,

how they'd carry
cyanide pills with them

in case they were captured.

So maybe this man
ended his own life.

Oh.

Mind you, it was so
very public, and there

was that woman with him.

One thing I do know, Lawson
needs him out of the morgue,

so we're gonna have
to bury him soon.

Did you find out his name?

We thought we had.

We never had a
funeral for Christopher.

Oh Jean, I didn't know.

He died alone with
the rest of his section,

but, um, it was six months
before they told me.

He was long buried.

You know, it's just the thought
of him being buried alone

there, no one to say goodbye.

Well, I'll leave you to it.

Goodnight, Jean.

Sven Lundqvist, Tor
Olsen, Niels Vanderberg.

the
midnight

from the [inaudible] hair.

color in cheeks
Blonde hair.

Cheers to blonde hair.

Well, that turned
out to be rather

more complex than I thought.

Well, at least
you gave it a try.

I don't know, Jean.

Perhaps I'm using the wrong key.

It seems to me there are too
few symbols or something.

But please, help yourself.

I've spent the entire evening
staring at the damn thing.

Perhaps fresh eyes
would be a good thing.

What's this then?

Part of the cipher.

You see, the technique is you
connect the key and the message

using modular addition.

It looks like a Ballarat
phone number to me.

No.
No.

No.

It's just a fraction
of the text.

What?

Well, I must tidy all this away.

Very good.

Gliding through
this still there.

Gliding through hell.

Bloody nightmare the thing.

Just had the
Ballarat Historical

Society on the phone.

Now, Elise Patrick,
wasn't she that

woman who found that dead body?

- I didn't hear the phone ring.
- Oh.

No.
No.

No.
I-- I rang them.

That's their number.

Mattie?

You think he'll talk to us?

Well, I have a feeling
he might talk to you.

Come on.

Try over there, eh?

Will you stay here?

Give me a shout if you need me.

Hello, Aaron.

How are you?

Lucien?

Mattie?

Can you come out?

I-- I would like you to come
back out, please, but calmly.

It is-- it-- it's all right.

It's all right.

This is-- this is
my friend, Lucien.

Men frighten him, Lucien.

Don't come any closer.

All right.

Mattie, that's a very
expensive coat he's wearing.

He didn't have that the
last time I saw him.

That's a lovely
coat you're wearing.

Where did you get it from?

Yes, I thought as much.

Mattie, do you think
you could check to see

if there's a label at
the back of the coat?

Would you hold still for me?

The labels been cut
off, and blonde hair.

It's a woman's by
the length of it.

May I see it?

Not a woman's as such.

In fact it's not even human.

I would say, however,
that's come from a wig.

Ms. Patrick, good morning.

I've told you
everything I know.

Yes.

Yes, but your colleague hasn't.

Martha?

Ms. uh--

Harris.

Ah, Ms. Harris.

How can I help you?

Does the Historical
Society have

any material, any books on
migrant settlement in Ballarat?

A few, actually.

Wonderful.

I'd love to see what you have.

Stay where you are.

I'm just getting my purse.

Martha?

Martha Harris, member of
the Australian Communist Party

since 1943.

The Soviets were our
allies, and it's not illegal.

Sacked from a
government job under suspicion

of having a relationship with
an attache at the Soviet Embassy

who subsequently went missing.

Is that why you
moved to Ballarat?

No.

I have a sick aunt
who lives here.

Suffering from?

Diphtheria.

Does she know you were
wearing her wig in the park?

May I smoke?

How many identities did
you manufacture for him?

Sven Lundqvist.

He died in Wendouree in
1912 at the age of three.

Niels Vanderberg died
in Castlemaine in 1897

at the age of six months.

Tor Olsen--

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Do you like
poetry, Ms. Harris?

For knowing all bounds of
passion, of power, of art.

Mastered, but could not
mask his deep despair.

Even as she turned with
Hermes to depart, looking

her last on her grim ravisher.

For the first time she
loved him, from their heart.

Was that what it was like for
you holding him while he died?

Whatever this attachment
was, you loved him.

You'd given up everything
for him, everything,

and he couldn't even
remain faithful.

What about his marriage?

Was that the last straw?

You should charge me if you
have anything, or let me go,

but there's no reason to
go on talking like this.

You're right.

Anyway, this is no longer
in our jurisdiction.

There are agents on their way
to talk to you, Ms. Harris.

Unless you have anything else
to say, this interview is over.

Ms. Harris?

No.

I have nothing left to say.

Cyanide.

Sugarcoated to disguise it.

You did love him--

passionately.

But unlike you, he was
trying to walk away.

I gave up everything for him.

I found him new places
to live, new identities,

but every time he
found another lover.

And the message you
wrote in that book.

You were arranging
to meet, weren't you?

I'd had enough.

He was a traitor.

To his country?

To me.

Charlie, there's terrible
famine in parts of China

right now.

Insurgencies in Malaysia,
Indonesia, and Vietnam.

And yet that woman
murdered her lover

because he was unfaithful.

It's a complicated alt world.

Jean?

Jean, do you know
where I put my--

thank you.

Presentable?

Yes.

You are now.

You worked out what
you're gonna say?

Well, it's a pauper's funeral.

Just Lawson and I, and the good
people from the funeral home,

of course.

What about the wife?

No.

She couldn't face it.

I'm going to say that even
though we don't know this man's

name and even though he was born
and fought under another flag,

he's resting with us
now and we will look

after him as one of our own.

Is it all right
if I come with you?

Yes, of course.

Right.