All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S19E14.1080p.WEBRip.x264-BAE_track3_[eng]

(light music)

- "The Battle of the Sexes."

- Remind me again,
what's occurring?

- Former U.S. tennis champion,
Noah Renard,

has accepted a challenge
laid down

by the York Tennis Club
for an exhibition match

with Sylvia Dodson,
the lady's club champion.

(chuckles)
- Hardly a fair match.

- And why is that?
- Well, for one,

he's a man and she's a woman.

- She's also ten years younger
and fit as a fiddle

while he hasn't played
competitive tennis in years.

In fact, he spent
the last three days

carousing around Toronto.

- Still, my money's on him.

Care to take the wager, ladies?

- Oh, well, you won't catch me
gambling, Thomas.

- Well, I heard if
Miss Dodson wins,

the club takes in 60 %
of the gate.

- And if she loses?
- The club gets 40,

but if Miss Dodson forfeits,

then Mr. Renard gets
the entire gate.

So put me down for five
on Dodson.

(women chuckling)

- Ah, Jeptha!

(engine rumbling)

(indistinct chatter)

- Ladies.

I hope you've got
my money ready.

- What an insufferable man.

- I sure do hope Miss Dodson
gives him a run for his money.

- Indeed.

- That Mr. Renard
is quite a character.

- Miss Hart was telling me
that if the match is forfeited,

then Mr. Renard gets to receive
the gate.

- He insisted.
He claims it's to cover

his own expenses
for his own protection.

Well, heaven willing,
everything goes as planned.

You see, the club's introduced
this new bursary program

for youngsters who couldn't
otherwise get to play and it's--

- Frankly, I think
we're going to go broke!

(Jeptha): However, it will draw
new money into our coffers

and introduce new members.

- If it were up to me,
we wouldn't be having

this event at all!
I find it all a bit unseemly.

- I'm afraid my wife
has it in for Miss Dodson.

- I do not have it in
for Miss Dodson at all.

I just think she sets
a bad example for the members,

especially the women.

She's always opposed
to something or other.

- Such as?

- Well, we follow
the Wimbledon dress rules

and Miss Dodson seems to think

that the outfits
are quite restrictive.

She actually wants to raise
the skirt

and shorten the sleeve,
if you can believe that.

(Jeptha): Let's go have a look
at our challenger.

She is rallying
with our gentlemen's champion,

Mr. Nicholas Moore, right now.

(rackets thudding)

(panting)

(grunting)

- Ah. Game to Miss Dodson.

(applause)

Miss Dodson leads two games
to one, first set.

- I guess I'll be making
that bet after all.

(rackets thudding)

(clattering)
(Dodson): Oh, oh! Ah, ah!

Oh! My ankle, my ankle!
(Violet): Let me take a look.

- Oh, no, no, no.
Don't touch it, please!

- I have to get the shoe off.
(Margaret): Don't worry.

She knows what she's doing.
She's a professional.

(groaning)

- I don't think you'll be
playing tennis any time soon.

Your ankle is broken.

- What a shame.

Easiest money we ever made.

- Despicable.

- We need to get her inside.
- Yes, of course.

Look, dear, if you'll just--

(groaning)

(theme music)

- Oh, yes. You play well--
- Mm-hmm.

- You'll win the game.

- I don't understand it.
I bought these shoes

only last week.
They were expensive.

- I'm afraid this has
been tampered with.

- What on earth do you mean?

- Would anyone care
for some tea?

- Don't interrupt. We are trying
to have a conversation.

- Oh, I would like some.
Hm. Lily.

So she has you serving tea now

and tending
to the equipment room?

- Yes, ma'am.

- No need to call me ma'am.
Violet will do.

- What do you mean
"tampered with"?

- The sole has been sawn off
and lightly glued back on.

It was only a matter of time
before it broke on you.

That happening,
there's a strong likelihood

that you would hurt yourself.

- Thank you, Margaret.

As I was saying,

this is not down
to some manufacturing defect.

I think someone
tampered with it.

- Should've known.
- Known what?

- I found this
in my locker yesterday.

- Oh.

Oh.

- "You will regret it
if you play this match.

Withdraw now before
it is too late."

And you chose not
to take this seriously?

- I just thought it a crank.

It is certainly not the first
threat I have ever received.

The world is filled with men
who believe that woman

should do nothing more than
bake cakes and birth babies.

- Hm.

- Plenty of women, too.

- This is outrageous!

Just give me my money

so I can get out of this
godforsaken town.

- I will not.

- What's going on, gentlemen?

- This man is welshing
on a deal. I was promised--

- I know what you were promised.

- And now he is reneging.

- Our arrangement did not
specify the contestant

had to be Miss Dodson.

She happens to be
our best player,

but I know we have other good
women players in this club.

One of them is going to step in.

(Brackenreid): Are you
agreeable to this?

- I will beat whatever woman
you put in front of me.

- Ooh, hey! What's your hurry?

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

What's happened to you,
young man?

- N-nothing, sir.
I-I tripped is all.

- I-I think we should get that
looked at. Come with me.

- No, sir. Really.
I'm all right.

- Why don't I believe you?
What's your name?

- Percy, sir. Percy McConnell.

- Is that your school?

- Yes, sir. But please
don't tell my headmaster.

I'll be in big trouble!

- What have you done?

- I owed some lads some money

and I couldn't pay it back
right away.

So they punished me.
- What lads?

- I can't say, sir.
I'll get beaten worse

if they find out
I ratted on them.

- Oh, wait, wait, wait.

Y-you say that
you owed them money.

For what? A tuck shop bill?

- No, sir. I placed some bets.

- Gambling.

- Yes, sir.

- And these were boys
at your school?

- Yes, sir. Do you know it?

- Yes. My son, Harry,
is a boarder there.

You're coming with me.

- Well, you look splendid.

- Oh, where can I get something
like this for myself?

- You cannot be serious.

- I am indeed.

Miss Delange
is an excellent player.

But even if she loses the match,

the club would still get
a-a portion of the gate money.

It'll be sufficient
to tide us over.

- She is not a good
representation of our club.

- She looks a good
representation to me.

- I am afraid that my wife
does not approve of her attire.

- Short skirt, short sleeves,

a sash instead of a hat.
You can't be serious.

- All of that may be true,

but we need this match to go on.

What do you say, Thomas?
- Oh, I would be more than happy

to watch her play.
Besides, my wife and I

have only just joined the club.

Wouldn't want to see it
go belly up now, would we?

Miss Delange.

- I cannot believe you--
- Shh.

- And you're sure
you don't know this lad,

Percy McConnell?

- There are a lot of boys who
attend the same school as I do.

- He said he'd gotten tangled up
in this gambling ring

and when he couldn't pay
his debts, he was beaten.

- It's quite a story.
- Well, I believe it to be true.

- It's a big school.
I don't know all that goes on.

- And you're sure you've heard

nothing about this
gambling ring?

- No, but I do know about this.

This is my latest report card.

(scoffs)

- These are excellent
grades, Harry.

- I haven't been
wasting my time,

no matter what you might think.

- No, I-I don't believe that...

You got an A-plus
in general mathematics?

- I'd say I inherited that
from my father.

(laughing)

- Well, this is cause
for a little celebration.

Are you hungry?
- Always.

- I know a place where
we can get delicious, hot pies.

Pizza pies,
I believe they call them.

- Ah, Watts. Where's Murdoch?
Is he in his office.

- Mm, he said he'll be in
later today.

Apparently, he ate something
last night

that disagreed with him.
- Ah. Well, in that case,

when you're finished stuffing
your face, you're with me.

(curious music)

(indistinct chatter)

- Ah, here we are.

The corridors of power,

where the elite play games
while the honest workers toil.

- Oh, knock it off, Watts.
It's hardly elite. I'm a member.

- Mm. Touché.
- Ah! There she is.

Miss Delange.

- Thank you for coming.
- Oh, of course.

This is Detective
Llewellyn Watts.

- Charmed.

- You said you received
a threat. Could I see it?

Ah, thank you.

"If you play in this match,
you will regret it.

You have been warned."
- Mm.

- Similar handwriting
to the other one.

- Other one?
- Previous player, now injured,

received a similar threat.
I can assure you

that if you feel in any way
uneasy about playing--

- Hm. Surely you don't think
a childish prank like this

will deter me.
- Still, Detective Watts

will be at your side
at all times.

Consider him
your personal bodyguard.

- Lucky day for me, it appears.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I need to get into my togs.

It's always fun to create
a little scandal.

(playful music)

- My god, Watts,
there goes a woman with spunk.

- All right. Get your tongue
back in your mouth.

(sighs)

(sighs)

(mysterious music)

(rackets thudding)

- Mm-hmm. And...

You'll never beat me
with power alone, Miss Delange.

Get me on the run.

That's it. Very good.

- She has some talent.

- And you are?

- Noah Renard,
U.S. tennis champion 1903-1906.

Surely you remember.
- I do not.

- Aha! Ah!
- Oh! Miss Delange?

- My hands. They're burning up!

- Has this happened before?
- No!

- She's got some talent,
but no grit.

- You stay right here.
I'll go get Miss Hart.

(gasps)

- It appears that you've
received second-degree burns.

Have you come into contact
with anything unusual?

- No. Just my racket.

- I mean, I was rallying
with Mr. Moore

and my hands just started
getting hotter and hotter

until it was unbearable.

- Well, I'll need to take that.
Detective, can you bundle it up?

- Mm. Of course.
- But I'm supposed to play!

- Oh, you won't be playing
tennis anytime soon.

- What's going on?

- It appears someone tampered
with her racket.

- I'll see if I can identify
what caused the burns.

- Was anyone around
when it happened?

- Ah, just the man
she was practising with

and the man she was supposed
to be playing against.

- Noah Renard?
- Yes, along with his entourage.

- How convenient.
- Mm.

- We'll check on you
in a little while.

- Can the detective stay?

(light music)

- Well, Miss Delange won't
be playing tennis

anytime soon, I'm afraid.

- Thank heavens
for small mercies.

- Why do you say that?
- She is simply not

the right representation
for our club.

- Well, we need someone,

or we're not going
to have a club.

- It's that serious?
- Yes.

If Mr. Renard walks away
with the entire gate,

we are going to lose this place.

And there's a shark
circling the waters.

- Who?

- That's Oscar Lubbock.
He's part owner of this place,

but he wants to own it outright.

And there is no will
on the part of my wife or myself

to sell our share.

However, there are some debts
we have incurred.

- So you think he's counting on
this Battle of the Sexes

being a total failure.
- This is valuable land.

He wants to tear
this place down.

He could build ten homes
on the land.

- Ten homes!

- Let's have a word.

- Ah, I knew in my bones
no good would come of this.

Women can't take the pressure
the way we men can.

They crumble.

- Doesn't help when
they're being sabotaged.

- What are you talking about?
- The police seem to believe

that somebody was deliberately
targeting the women.

- Why on Earth would
anybody do that?

- To ensure Mr. Renard victory.

- My victory was already certain
by my mere presence.

- Well,

you best find another champion,
Mr. Pearson.

Or forfeit the gate.

- And you buy the club.

(sighs)

(tense music)

We should have Murdoch do this.

- No need.
I'm more than capable.

- So, what do you know?

- Strings have been damaged
by a heavy soaking

of potassium hydroxide,
which dissolved the sheep gut.

It is also all over the handle,

so when Blanche held the racket,
it burned her fingers.

It's highly acidic.

- I-Is this lye
we're talking about?

- Uh, correct.
Very common, easily obtainable

cleaning product.
- Hm.

- An accident?
- Hardly.

No one would be
cleaning their racket

with a lye solution.

- Right, Watts, come on.
Let's get a move on.

Good day, Miss Hart.
- Uh, I'd like to see

if I can track down the origin
of the stationery

that was used for the letters.

- That's a good idea.
Shouldn't be too difficult.

There can't be that many shops
that sell it.

- Given what's happened,
do you think the match

should be cancelled?
- Maybe.

But Margaret would be
heartbroken.

She's convinced the ladies' side
will be victorious.

- Miss Hart,
you wanted to see me?

- I did.

- A new hobby?

- I heard you rehired
Jack Pritchett.

- I did.

- Fire him.

- He's done his time.

- He burned down a man's shop.

- But a man who did not
pay for our services.

- Then we withhold them.
That's it.

We do not attack members
of our community.

- Of course.

(tense music)

(knocking)

- Your notes on the Glover case.

They did help to secure
his conviction.

- Very good.

- Oh, I don't need a tip.
Thank you.

- I beg your pardon?

- Ah, I was--
- Oh!

(laughing)

- Is something troubling you?
- No.

Yes.

- May I?
- Of course.

- Harry stayed
at my home last night.

- Oh. That must have
been nice, hmm?

- Yes. Yes.

But when he left
in the morning, I found this.

- Good Lord!

It's close to five dollars.
That's quite a sum.

H-How did he get it?

- I've heard reports
that there may be

some gambling going on
at the school.

- And Harry's involved?
- Well, I don't know.

And I don't want to confront him

unless I-I'm certain,
which I am not.

- There are stiff penalties
associated with gambling.

- I'm aware of that.

- Leave it to me.

I'll make sure
he's aware of it, as well.

- Can you delay the tournament?
- No.

- If you can get someone
to play the match,

will you be able
to save the club?

- I'm not much for specific
numbers. Pippa?

- Well, I have been reviewing
them all, actually,

and if we take 40% of the gate,

we can help stave off
Mr. Lubbock

and keep him from
buying the club outright.

- Could I see those figures?

Well, since there are currently
no bodies to guard,

I'll make my way back
to the station house.

- Considering how much Margaret
loves this club,

I'd hate to see it go under.
- Then what about your wife?

- Margaret? No, no, no, no, no.

I wouldn't want to see her
embarrass herself.

Who's the next best
female player around here?

- Her.

Coroner.
- Thank you.

- Oh, I-I don't think so.

I'm sure Miss Hart
is a very honourable person,

but she just is not the right--

- What are you trying to say?
- I wo--

- Pippa, Pippa.
She might be our only hope.

(Mosley): I have a question.
- Of course.

- How did you become
a lady lawyer?

Shouldn't you be at home
raising children?

- If I was, they would be
better-behaved than you.

As I was saying,

there are stiff penalties
involved with illegal gambling.

- What does that
have to do with us?

- Well, I've heard reports
that a young man

at this very school
was assaulted

for not having paid
his gambling debts.

And I am here to tell you
that if this persists,

I will be getting
the constabulary to investigate,

and you will get to see this
lady lawyer in action.

- Hm. Can't wait.
(boys chuckling)

- Good day.

- So, which one of us has
a father in the constabulary?

- Me? I can't beat--

- It's not like you to shirk
a challenge, Miss Hart.

- This is true.
- Excuse me!

Sorry for speaking,

but you can do it, Miss Hart.

- See? You don't have to win,
just try your best.

- Hm.
- Is this the next lamb

for the slaughter?

Expected better of this club.

Looks like you'll be getting
your wish, Mr. Lubbock.

Do you still plan on expanding?

- I plan on tearing it down.

- All right. I'll do it.

- That a girl.

(indistinct chatter)

- You've been suspended.

- I didn't do anything.

- You call this nothing?

- None of those are mine.

- These were found
in your locker.

I didn't send you to that school
so that you could waste time

playing cards and gambling.

- Someone put them there.

- You told me you had nothing
to do with this gambling ring.

- I don't.

- I found this
in your belongings.

- You were looking
through my stuff?

- It fell out of your clothing
while I was putting it away.

Did someone plant this, as well?

- I did place a bet. It-it won.

It was just a lark,
a one-time thing.

- Well, this one-time thing

has landed you with your father
for one week

where we will be improving
on your studies.

(rackets thudding)

(birds chirping)

(grunting)

- Oh! She's quite good.

- Well, perhaps she'll give
that blowhard Renard

a good showing.
Oh, speak of the devil.

- So, you think
third time's the charm.

- Excellent shot, Miss Hart.

- Mind if I see what she's got?

- Not at all.
- Mind?

You ready?
- Give me your best shot.

(grunts)

(Margaret): I've never seen
a serve like that.

- Overhanded.
It's his signature move.

- May want to work
on her service returns.

- Oh. Excuse me.

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

- Would you accompany me
to the station house?

- What?

- Okay. So, when it comes...
whack.

- I'm afraid it is
not a request. Madam.

- Uh, what is the meaning
of this?

- I, uh-- Jeptha!

- Oh, apologies,
but your wife is under arrest.

- I mean, I never!

- Arrest?
Oh, that is impossible!

My wife has done nothing wrong!
- We'll handle this.

(Watts): As you can see,
Mrs. Pearson,

the stationery on which
these letters were written

is quite exclusive.

Made in England by J.Y. Sanders,

it is sold here by a shop
on King Street, Layton's.

Do you know it?
- Possibly.

But I know a lot of shops
on King Street.

- Well, you have an account
with Layton's

and the proprietor distinctly
remembers selling you a box

of J.Y. Sanders notepaper.

- That is not a crime, surely?

What is the nature
of this arrest?

- Uttering threats is one count.

- The other is common assault.

- I did not lay a hand
on those women.

- But you did write
these letters?

- I did!
- Why?

- They were breaking the rules,

they were dressing
inappropriately.

Had they participated
in that match,

the eyes of the world would have
been upon us and them.

We have been in operation
for 30 years,

and we have a certain standard
to maintain!

(clears throat)

- In this letter
addressed to Miss Dodson,

you said, "You will regret it
if you play this match."

Same thing in this letter
to Miss Delange.

"If you play in this match,
you will regret it."

What did you mean?

- I simply didn't want them

to be able to renew
their memberships.

- Is that it?

- Upon my honour,

I did not touch either
of those women.

Thirty-love. May I go?

- Well, what are you going
to teach me today? Police work?

- Hardly. I got these
from your headmaster,

and I've taken the liberty
of putting together this test.

I won't have you falling behind
on your studies.

(sighs)

- I thank you for your leniency,
Thomas.

I assure you my wife will be
no trouble in the future.

- Think nothing of it, Jeptha.

- All right, get ready,
Miss Hart! Serve's up.

(grunting)

- I told you he favours
the left!

- I know, but he's too strong.

- To the left!

To the left! To the left!

(Pearson): Take a five-minute
break.

- Get a chair, get a chair.

(sighs)

- You can do it.

- Thanks, Lily,
but I don't think so.

- As long as you play,
you save the club.

- I don't like losing.

- Sometimes the joy is found
simply in the playing.

- Do you play?

- I do.

But my opponent is only
the back wall of the club.

- Oh.

(Brackenreid): I'm guessing she
doesn't have much of a chance.

- I'm afraid not.

She's a decent enough player
when she gets going.

But when Mr. Renard
played professionally,

he was known as Noah Ace.

- He won almost all his matches
on service alone.

If Miss Hart can't
handle the serve, then...

- But if she could?

Have the germ of an idea.

- Good.

- So we're finished for the day?

- Not quite.

You'll be writing
a 500-word essay

on the trials and tribulations
of Sir Guyon,

the Knight of Temperance.

- I don't know why we have
to study all this

old-timey stuff.
What does it have to do

with the present day?
- It will help you to pass

English class
in the present day.

- I'd rather just stick to
the sciences. They make sense.

- Well, I can't say I disagree.

- Hope I'm not interrupting.

- Not at all. We're just
about to take a break.

- Wonderful.
- Actually, Watts--

- Violet Hart has entered
the Battle of the Sexes.

- The Battle of--?
- Ah, it's a tennis competition.

- Oh. I see.
- Miss Hart is good,

but she's struggling to return
faster serves

and Mr. Moore,
her practise partner,

is nothing compared to the man
she'll face in the match.

- She needs to work
on her timing.

- Timing?

- If she can anticipate
the speed at which the ball

will travel to her,
then she can return...

any serve.

- How does she do that?

- Practise.
- Well, she's worn out

Mr. Moore. Is there another way?

- You say you prefer
the sciences?

- I do.

- Come with me.

(curious music)

All right, add another one here.

Good.
- What are we doing, anyway?

- Giving Miss Hart
a practice partner

that won't tire out.

That should do it.

(whirring)

- That was your brilliant idea?

(whirring)

It's all rigged up.

- All right, get ready
to send one my direction.

Uh, excuse us.

Hm. Uh. Uh, we-we may need
to reduce the tension a bit,

the red knob on the side.

All right.

Um, maybe, uh, ten percent more.

Fire.

Again.

All right. That should work.

Let's set this up for Miss Hart.

- Do I get a try?

- Not until you've written
your essay.

Are you ready, Miss Hart?

- Yes.

(grunts)
- Uh...

- Try another.

(grunts)

(Margaret): You're swinging
too late!

(Murdoch): Try to track
the ball.

(gasps)
Very good.

Oh!
- Huh.

- Better.
(grunts)

Excellent work, Miss Hart.

- Oh, thank you, Detective.

Oh, I have every confidence
you will win.

- I hope so. Let's go.
- Hm. Good night.

- Ah...

- Ah, that machine
was incredible!

You were amazing today.

- Well, thank you, Margaret.

But I still don't think
I can win.

- Well, a respectable showing
is good enough,

both for the club
and for womankind.

- Well, I'm not sure
I feel comfortable

representing womankind.
- Then represent yourself.

You stay in the match,
you save the club.

I'll see you in the morning. Hm.

Violet, look out!

(tires screeching)

Violet, are you all right?

- No. I can't move my arm.

Well, I won't be playing.
My shoulder's dislocated.

- And you didn't see
who was driving?

- Headlights were in my eyes.

- All happened so fast.

- Is it possible that this
was just an accident?

Sheer careless driving?

- Not a chance, Detective.

- All right.
Well, do you recall anything

about the automobile itself?

- Oh. Wait, it was black.
- Anything else?

- I believe it hit something
as it drove by.

(gasps)
- That's right!

- What's wrong with you?
Stop dragging your feet!

- I'm not.
- Aye-aye. What do we have here?

- Good day, Constable.

I demand you place
this young man under arrest.

I also retrieved these.

- Right. Why not simply
send a constable?

- I wanted to show him
what a lady lawyer could do.

- Can I go home?

- That will be up to Crown
Attorney Newsome to decide.

- You are facing
serious charges.

- My uncle'll pay the fines.
- That doesn't matter.

You may still be looking
at jail time.

- Jail? It's just a bit of fun.

- Gambling is
an illegal activity.

- What's this?
- It's a bet.

- I'm aware of that.

What student can afford to bet
20 dollars

on the outcome
of a tennis game?

- Twenty dollars that
the match will be forfeit?

- No lady will make it through.

They'll quit before
it's even over.

- What makes you say that?

- My uncle believed it.

And he's the one
who made that bet.

- Who's your uncle?
- Oscar Lubbock.

And he's the one
who convinced me to do this.

- Well, we will be having
a word with him.

- You will be writing out
a detailed statement

of all the people involved
in this little gambling ring.

Understood?

- You can write, can't you?

- I have one more question.

Did you put cards
and betting slips

in my son's locker?

- I did.
- Why?

- I thought he was the one
who spilled the beans

about the gambling
in the first place.

I wanted to shut him up.
- Shut him up?

- Yeah. He's always bragging
about how great you are.

"My father did this.
My father did that."

I'm sick of it.

(soft music)

- Excuse me.

- Five hundred words
on the tribulations

of Sir Guyon.

- Harry. I'm so sorry.

- It's all right. The verse
wasn't that bad, actually.

- No, I-I mean I'm sorry
for not believing you.

Ah, Eamon Mosley just confessed
to putting cards

and betting slips
in your locker.

You'll be back at school
tomorrow.

- And what happens to Eamon?

- I suspect he'll be expelled.

Again, I'm sorry.

- Ah, it's all right.
You're a copper.

Makes you a suspicious sort.

- Thomas, I am speaking
for womanki--

- Margaret, shh. Listen.

(rackets thudding)

(grunting)

- She's actually quite good!

- Surprisingly.

(scoffs)

(gasps)

- What did I tell you?

The weaker sex has no place
in the sporting world.

- Especially when someone
is trying to attack them.

- Attack?

This is nothing more
than a series of accidents.

- Look at him wandering around
like he already owns the place.

- Why not? He likely soon will.

- Begging your pardon,
Chief Constable Brackenreid.

- Yes?
- There's a telephone call

for you.
- Oh. Thank you.

Excuse me, ladies.
- Mm-hmm.

- Surely there must be someone

willing to take
that blowhard on.

- I don't think so.
Given the circumstances,

I can't think of a single woman
prepared to take on Mr. Renard.

- And a good thing, too.

I have found this entire event
to be rather disappointing.

- Thank you, Murdoch.
That's interesting.

(Lubbock): It will not
be long now.

- Mr. Lubbock,
I believe you have

some questions to answer, sir.

Please, follow me. Ladies.

- Not long at all.

- This is outrageous.

I don't even own an automobile.

And if I did, I wouldn't be
running women over with it.

- You placed a sizeable bet
on the outcome of the game.

It would be in your interests
for the match not to proceed.

- And since Mr. Renard
has no opponent,

it seems my interests
have been served.

- You injured those women,
didn't you?

- I did not.

I was umpiring the match
when Miss Dodson was hurt.

- You could have tampered
with her equipment beforehand,

same with Miss Delange.
- I could not.

Now charge me, or release me.

I have a tennis club
to take possession of.

- Get out. Go on!

(tense music)

- The club'll be closed
by day's end.

I hope you enjoyed your brief
time in high society.

- Don't say a word.

- This is a clear violation
of the terms of our agreement.

- It is not.
- I am to play

a member of this club.
- He does have a point.

- And now Miss Handley
is a member of the club.

The charter clearly states
that a new admission

can be nominated by four members
of good standing.

One, two, three, four.

And so now she is
your opponent. Hm.

- Well, I'll need some time
to limber up.

- Are you sure you don't
mean sober up?

- Oh, they amount
to the same thing, Madam.

- Ugh...

- Mr. Lubbock, Pippa Pearson,
and young Eamon Mosley.

- None of them had
the opportunity to injure

all three women.
- But they would all benefit

if the match were to be
called off.

But none more so
than Mr. Renard himself.

- Hm. He's such an arrogant git

I doubt he would find it
necessary to injure an opponent.

- The match is on!
- What?

- Noah Renard's latest opponent
is Miss Lily Handley.

- I saw her practising earlier.
She's quite something.

- Is that right?

She would have had access
to the ladies' locker room.

She could have damaged
Miss Dodson's shoe

and Miss Delange's racket.

(grunts)

- I may have bitten off
more than I can chew.

(Lubbock): And she doesn't look
like one to forfeit.

- Miss Lily Handley.

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

We'd like a word.

- Is she being arrested?

- Why did you do it,
Miss Handley?

- I'm a better player
than all of them.

And yet they treat me like dirt.

Throw their dirty clothes
on the floor, never a kind word.

- So you should injure them?

- They don't deserve
to represent women athletes.

- What about Miss Hart?

- I didn't touch Miss Hart.

She was the only kind soul here.

- Someone tried to run her over
with an automobile.

- I wouldn't harm Miss Hart!

Besides, do you think I could
really afford an automobile

with what they pay me here?

- Still, someone you know
could have--

- No!

I will admit to the things
I did wrong.

Don't ask me to confess
to the things I did not do.

- Chief Constable,
you might want to take a look

at what your wife is up to.

- Oh.

- I've had five opponents
since arriving here.

Three of them were injured due
to their innate frailty.

Another arrested,

and now I face one due
for the retirement home.

- Don't listen to him, Margaret.
You can do this.

- You cannot do this.
- And why not?

- Because you'll get beat,
that's why.

- I don't doubt that,
but I can last out the match.

If I do that, I save the club.

- You'll be humiliated.

- If the club still stands,
I don't care.

Now go sit down and let me play.

- The Battle of the Sexes
will finally begin.

Service goes to our visitor,
Mr. Noah Renard.

- Three-time U.S.
tennis champion, Noah Renard!

(Jeptha): Well aware
of that fact, sir.

- As is everyone in attendance.

- Do you think what happened
to Miss Hart was an accident?

- Possibly.
Toronto is being

absolutely overrun
by reckless drivers.

- This will not be pretty.

- But good on her
for standing up for herself.

(Brackenreid): Come on,
Margaret! You can do this.

Come on, Margaret! Come on!

- Thank you.

(playful music)

(breathing heavily)

- Nah!

- At least the pain
will be short-lived.

(Renard grunts)
- Ah-ha! Ah-ha.

Ai-yi-yi! Oh!

It's very close to my body.

(grunts)
Wha! Oh. Huh...

And then, oh, oh!
Oh, ah. It's hard. Oh.

- I can't bear to watch this.

(grunts)
- It comes towards me!

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

(grunts)
Uh! Ah! Oh...

- Time. Time!

- What? Oh! Yes?

- A word of advice?
- Yes. Uh, concede now?

- No.
- Oh.

- Uh, he seems to be serving

exclusively to the centre
of the court.

Uh, your right hand.
- Mm.

- Uh, get your racket out
the moment he begins

his backswing and hold it
very firmly.

- Uh, uh, hmm?

- Godspeed.
- Thank you.

- Exactly what I taught you.

- Service, Mr. Renard.
- Right.

(dramatic music)

(grunts)

(crowd gasping)

Oh!

(screaming)

(Margaret): Oh, dear!
- My leg!

- Mr. Renard?
- I'm injured.

I don't think I can continue.

It's no use.

I'm out for the count!

I give up. I cannot continue.

- Are you sure?
- Of course I am sure!

I'm injured! Help me!

- I hereby declare that
this match has been forfeited.

The winner is York Tennis Club's
own Margaret Brackenreid!

(cheering)
I did it! I did it!

(cheering, shouting)

(excited squealing)

(laughing)

I did it! I did it!

- Congratulations!
(excited chatter)

- I did it! I did it!

For womankind!
(laughing)

(car rumbling)

(tense music)

- Are you all right?

- Ah, a little tender,
but I'll live.

Uh, whose car is that?

- Jack Pritchett.

He came pleading
for his job back.

- And did he mention
how he tried to run me over?

- No. Nothing.

- That was the car that hit me,
I know it.

The bumper was damaged.

- I don't know what to tell you.

I guess you've made an enemy.

- I trust that's the only
one that I've made?

- I thought you said cards
were a waste of time?

- They are.
But mathematics isn't.

Well?
- I'll take a card.

- You have a ten under there,
don't you?

- What if I do?
- Well, then, if you do,

your odds of winning
are 60% if you hold.

And those odds drop to 50%
if you have a nine under there.

So, what will it be?

- I'll hold.

- Bust. Very good.

- What are we playing for?

Fifty cents.

- Ah-ah-ah! If you can correctly
tell me the odds of winning

on your next ten hands,
it's all yours.

- All right.

(intriguing music)

Well?

- Seventy percent.

- Very good. That's one.

- I do hope you don't plan
on wearing that hat outside.

- No?

(laughing)

(theme music)

Subtitling: difuze