All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 13x14 - Rigid Silence.WEBRip.x264-CookieMonster.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

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Right here, driver.

Ah, there's nothing prettier
than Kingston in the fall.

It was Canada's capital, you know.

Yes, William, you may have mentioned.

Right then.

Should we stop for lunch?

I know a lovely place from
the last time I was here,

named after an animal of some sort.

Julia, we shouldn't linger.
We are expected at the prison.

Is every trip with
you a busman's holiday?

I thought you wanted
to see Kingston with me?

Yes, not just the penitentiary.

Margaret! I wasn't expecting you.

I tried to telephone
but I was disconnected

after only one ring.

I don't know what's going on.

The Hello Girls at Bell
Telephone have gone on strike.

How do they expect one to
live without a telephone?

We've managed for hundreds of years.

Thousands, actually.

Nevertheless, I'm fed up with it.

Well, so far Bell have
refused to negotiate.

In fact, they've sent
over replacement workers

- from the Montreal office.
- Hmm.

I couldn't understand a
word the girl was saying.

She was probably
speaking French, Margaret.

That is their language.

As a matter of fact, we've been ordered

to the picket line to keep the peace.

The strikers are trying
to prevent the replacements

from getting into the building.

Just get my service back, Thomas.

I haven't been able to
catch up with Audrey.

It's a wonder that you've
been able to survive.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
darling, I have work to do.

Toodle-pip.

I appreciate you allowing us
this opportunity, Mr. Kelleher.

It's not standard procedure,

but we're essentially in the
same line of work, aren't we?

The prisoner is in solitary
confinement at the moment.

Quiet down, you lot.

What happened?

An altercation with one of our guards.

Four days in isolation.
Bread and water alone.

The altercation must
have been quite serious?

He called the guard an
ignorant oaf. Frankly, he is.

But we have to follow the rules.

No disrespectful talk to the
guards under any circumstances.

Just you, Detective.

Ma'am, this is no place for you.

I think I can handle myself.

Nevertheless. There's only room for one.

Please remain with our guest.

Thank you for coming.

Chief Constable Giles.

I'm a long way from that now, Murdoch.

I need your help.

There's been a murder.

A murder?

One of our inmates,

a man named Jimmy Donovan,
supposedly committed suicide.

And you don't believe
that to be the case?

His cell was two doors along from mine.

I heard him cry out.

He shouted, 'Stop.'

And then I heard little else.

Not the actions of a
man intent on suicide.

Indeed.

Donovan was not the suicidal type.

Homicidal would be a better description.

Who do you believe killed him?

There is a lot of conflict here

between the Catholics
and the Ulster men.

And Donovan was Orange to the core.

- You believe a Catholic is responsible?
- It's possible.

Time's up, Detective.

Just one more moment.

Is Deputy Warden Kelleher
aware of your suspicions?

No. No.

The Deputy Warden is a Catholic

and there were many complaints
that he favours his own.

Kelleher has told me
that you are in here

because you called a
guard an ignorant oaf.

Is that true?

That he's an oaf or
that I called him one?

I must have been getting
close to the truth

of what happened to Donovan.

One of the inmates
started a fight with me,

but when I attempted to
report it to the guard on duty,

he said that I had tripped.

You think the guard was in on it?

He was certainly willing
to turn a blind eye.

It was then that I may
have referred to him

in such an unflattering way.

Is there no one else you
could have reported this to?

Well, I did speak to another
guard. A man named Boyle.

He seemed sympathetic but...

I'm sorry gentlemen, I cannot
allow you any more time.

- Regulation forbids it.
- Yes, thank you.

Besides all that, how are you
faring in here, Chief Constable.

An ex-policeman and a homosexual.

Quite frankly this cell is the
safest place that I've been.

But I have no desire to remain here.

Let's go, ladies.

What's going on Higgins?

These women are charged with
creating a public disturbance

outside of the telephone offices.

Public disturbance my eye.

They had permission
to demonstrate. Here.

And who might you be?

Bertram Flanders, attorney.

I'm here to offer my services
to these brave strikers.

How completely un-lawyer-like of you.

The company's strike breakers
were trying to provoke

these young women to
violence, which they resisted,

I might add. Shouts were
exchanged. But that is all.

Still, it's their fault that
we don't have any telephones.

My Ruthie is going
positively out of her mind.

Hardly a long journey for her, Higgins.

Mr. Maclean from the Toronto
World has set up a donation fund.

- So, the public is sympathetic?
- Of course they are,

it's a public utility being
controlled by a monopoly.

And I've spoken with
the Crown Prosecutor.

All charges have been dropped.

Let them out, Higgins.

You're free to go, ladies.

Come on.

Her name is Nomi Johnston.

She is your daughter.

Nomi.

What are you doing here?

I have been working at Bell
as a telephone operator.

I joined the strikers.

- I'd better go.
- Wait.

Why should I?

It's clear you have no interest in me.

Please, give me a minute.

I'm free this evening.

That is, if I'm not incarcerated again.

Yeah, I thought that
"suicide" was suspicious.

But no one wanted to look
into it, so I dropped it.

I understand that Mr.
Donovan was an Ulsterman?

He was.

He'd seize any chance he could
to provoke one of the Catholics.

Very few of them could
resist fighting back.

Did he pick on anyone in particular?

Members of the Clan na Gael.

I've heard of them. Mostly
Irish from America are they not?

Mostly, but some of them
moved up here to Canada

to make more mischief.

Irish Nationalist be blowed.

They're criminals as
far as I'm concerned.

Could you provide us with some names?

Mr. Boyle, I believe you're
required in the infirmary.

There's an inmate down there
complaining of stomach pains.

- He'll require an escort.
- Yes, sir.

What were you asking my guard about?

We were simply making inquiries
based on what Mr. Giles told us.

I see. Well in future, I would
very much like to be apprised

as to what it is you intend to do here.

Certainly.

Prison, Detective, is a
hotbed of lies and rumours.

Now, if you'll come with me,

Warden McNeil would
like a word with you two.

Detective Murdoch,

I can't tell you how honoured
and delighted I am to meet you.

I thought your book was splendid.

I couldn't put it down.

And Dr. Ogden,

I was especially interested
in the forensic sciences.

- Thank you.
- I don't know how you solve a case without her?

- I manage.
- On occasion.

Well, I do hope we can expect
to see a second book soon.

Oh, well, our plans for a second book

are somewhat vague at the moment

but our life certainly has
no shortage of material.

Of course not. Well, I imagine
that's the reason you're here.

Yes, as a matter of
fact, I understand that

one of your inmates died here
recently, a Jimmy Donovan.

- His death was declared a suicide.
- I'm aware of that.

And what can I do for you?

I'd like to see the
Donovan post mortem report.

- Of course.
- And it would be most helpful

if we could speak with
some of the prisoners.

I see no good reason why not.

I will leave you in Mr.
Kelleher's capable hands.

You will have his full cooperation.

Perhaps we might see
you later for dinner?

My wife will be excited to ask you
about that case with the statues.

Thank you, Warden.
That would be very nice.

Oh, and one last thing, I
hope I'm not being a bother.

I was wondering if I could
trouble you both for an autograph?

Why didn't you let me know
you'd arrived here in Toronto?

I told you I was coming.

You never wrote back.

I thought it best to
leave well enough alone.

I'm sorry, Nomi.

You have to understand
I'm in an awkward position.

Of course I understand,

but some sort of communication
is always better than silence.

You're absolutely right.

But don't bother yourself.

I have no need to be part of your life.

I'm sorry.

Please sit down. Please.

Thank you for your
cooperation, Mr. Kelleher.

I would give it to you
whether it was ordered or not.

Ma'am.

Sir.

Mr. Giles. How are you faring?

I have survived so far.

What did you find out?

I've taken a look at the post
mortem report on Mr. Donovan.

His hyoid bone was broken
and the bruises on the neck

suggest he was asphyxiated
with suspenders.

- So he hanged himself.
- Not necessarily.

There were also
abrasions on his knuckles

and traces of skin
under his fingernails.

Meaning he tried to defend himself.

Now, the guard Boyle gave
us a list of prisoners names

who are affiliated with a group that
call themselves the Clan na Gael.

Three of them are familiar to us.

Luke Dillon, John Nolan, and John Walsh.

They attempted to blow up the
Welland Canal seven years ago.

Yes, that's them.

The dynamitards they were called.

Luckily they didn't succeed.

Many people would have
died if that dam had failed.

It makes sense that
fanatical Nationalists

may have been involved
with Donovan's death.

John Walsh died a few months ago.

Only Dillon and Nolan
attended his funeral.

Well, perhaps we'll
have a word with them.

Don't expect much information.

These men pride
themselves on being silent.

They're not going to
betray their associates.

Jimmy Donovan.

Yeah, we knew him.

Bit of trouble that one was.

I understand he killed himself.

The circumstances of his death
are not yet clear, Mr. Dillon.

Well, after a while this
place can turn a man's brain.

- You find ways to pass the time.
- For instance,

- one welcomes visitors.
- Then you'll be amenable to speaking with us.

Sure. Maybe you can
write my autobiography?

We believe Mr. Donovan was murdered.

So an Ulsterman dies and a Catholic
must have done it, is that it?

It's not hard to find a murderer
in here. They're plentiful.

But whatever the cause,

I find it difficult to summon up grief,

let alone the desire to
help find out whoever did it.

I've always been curious
about the Welland Canal affair.

I was not present

when the explosions went off.

You were convicted of
organizing the plot.

Indeed.

Well whoever planted the
explosives was incompetent.

They put the bombs in
all the wrong places.

Yes, that's right.

I read an account in the newspaper
that suggested someone may have

infiltrated the Clan na Gael.

They betrayed the plot.

The British are always trying
to infiltrate our association.

They do not succeed.

You're certain of that,

even though you had
nothing to do with it?

I keep my ear to the ground.

Well then perhaps you heard something
about the murder in this prison.

Well, if you did,

the Warden would be
apprised of your cooperation.

It would certainly reflect
well on your record.

We can keep it out
of your autobiography.

I'll tell you this much

certain inmates who are
considered trustworthy are

given some freedom of
movement around the prison.

Not leisure, mind you,

God forbid leisure.

But they are permitted
to do certain tasks.

Such as?

Laundry delivery.

Clean laundry is picked up at the shed

and delivered to the appropriate cell.

We all have our own set of clothes.

Quite a special arrangement.

Almost as good as the Ritz.

And the same person
always performs this job?

Usually.

Do you know the name?

Peadar Regan.

If anybody could have got
close to Donovan's cell,

he could have.

And who does the laundry?

The female inmates, of course.

As it should be.

Is that cooperation enough?

Pardon me, Father,

- may I have a word?
- Of course.

We are investigating the death of
an Ulsterman within these walls.

Oh dear. What is the man's name?

Jimmy Donovan.

Did you counsel anyone who
may have wished him dead?

I've heard nothing.

- Thank you, Father.
- You're welcome.

Peadar Regan? I'm
Detective William Murdoch.

I've been authorized by
the warden to investigate

the death of Jimmy Donovan.

What's to investigate?

- He killed himself.
- We have reason to believe he was murdered.

You had access to his cell?

That I did.

But I had no reason to kill him.

But you did deliver the laundry?

- What's that got to do with it?
- Answer the question.

Did you or did you not deliver laundry

to Donovan's cell on the day he died?

Not the day he died.

I was under the weather,

one of the other men took my shift.

What's his name?

He won't get in trouble will he?

Not if he's innocent.

His name is Kavanagh. Jamie Kavanagh.

He's in number 10.

Cell 10.

Mr. Kavanagh.

Go and fetch Mr. Kelleher.

I found a note.

It appears to be written in Irish.

I speak some Irish Gaelic.

- My mother's side.
- Can you translate?

"Bronntanas seachadta."

It means "Gift delivered."

Are there many Irish speaking
inmates that you know of?

All of those who belong
to the Clan na Gael.

They consider it a point of
honour to communicate in Irish.

"True language of the
homeland" and all that.

Julia?

I can't determine the cause of
death until I examine him further.

Oh no.

I'm afraid so.

I hold myself responsible

for the welfare of these inmates.

Do you think Mr. Kavanagh's death
is connected to Mr. Donovan's?

The old rivalries,
Catholic versus Protestant?

I don't know. That's why
I considered it the wiser

to keep Donovan's
death relatively quiet.

I didn't want tensions inflamed.

I've heard you tend to
favour Catholic inmates.

Grant them privileges.

Is that true?

I try to redress the
imbalance of privilege

that exists in our society. I
do not see that as favoritism.

Others might.

Let them think what they want.

Regardless, Detective, I want
you to pursue your investigation.

Whether the culprit be
Catholic or a Protestant,

he must be brought to justice.

Certainly we can agree on that?

Of course.

What have you, Julia?

He ingested a highly
corrosive substance.

It's been mixed with a plug of tobacco.

As he chewed, he hit the
corrosive, which acted immediately.

It caused his throat to
swell and he choked to death.

Any idea what that substance was?

I believe it's lye soap.

There are also

scratches on his arm...

They've healed a little,
I'd estimate they were made

three days to a week ago.

Which would match the timing
of Mr. Donovan's murder.

And the skin beneath his fingernails.

Perhaps Mr. Kavanagh here was
who Mr. Donovan was fighting off.

So he killed Donovan
and someone killed him?

So it would seem.

Better conditions! Better pay!

Better conditions! Better pay!

Better conditions! Better pay!

Mr. Flanders, I advise you to go home.

This is a fight you will not win.

This is not my fight,
I am only a supporter.

But I do believe the
odds are in our favor.

We have right on our side.

Being a telephone operator is the most

grueling job I've ever had.

We each look after 80 to 100 lines

and deal with as many
as 300 calls an hour.

Work is hard. That's why it's work.

Bell wants to add more
hours for less pay.

We cannot survive on these wages.

That's true for plenty of
men, as well. Me, for example.

And those men deserve to be better paid.

Yourself included.

We can't make things right for everyone.

But we can make things
right for these women.

Do you really believe
they don't deserve better?

Miss Hart.

Inspector.

- May I have a word?
- Of course.

I wanted to explain
what you saw yesterday.

I know what it probably looked
like, but it wasn't like that at all.

What you choose to do
in your private life

is none of my concern, Inspector.

The young lady I was
with is my daughter.

Really.

I had no idea she was in Toronto.

The truth is I was afraid

of how my wife would react if she knew.

That young woman is
your own flesh and blood?

That's right.

Her mother was coloured?

Yes.

I didn't even know of Nomi's
existence until a year ago.

That must have been hard for her.

Having no father.

I suppose it was.

No suppose about it, Inspector.

I grew up without a
father and it was not easy.

What became of him?

He deserted my mother
while she was carrying me.

Never to be seen again.

And her?

Let's say life was a struggle.

Well, you seem to have
inherited your mother's strength.

Have I?

Perhaps so.

However, I miss the
presence of a kind father...

Like yourself.

How would Kavanagh have
obtained that plug of tobacco?

Contraband comes into the prison.

Cocaine, alcohol, tobacco.

Mr. Dillon mentioned
the laundry delivery.

Could that be a conduit
for contraband here?

That is not unlikely.

It's also a place where
we'd expect to find lye soap.

Would the deputy warden know of
the passing along of contraband?

Probably, but he is a realist.

I doubt he's worried
about a little tobacco.

Unless it's poisoned.

Whoa! Enough! Enough! Back up!

Stop! We just want decent conditions.

Bloody hell.

Sir, the strikers have done
nothing but hold their ground.

- You've changed your tune, Higgins.
- They just want to be paid fairly.

- I can relate, sir.
- Oh, put a sock in it.

Let's sort this out.

Right you lot, move it along.

You'll find these ladies have
the legal right to be here.

I said, move along unless you
want to see the inside of a cell.

I haven't time to talk.

The man who died ingested tobacco
that had been mixed with lye soap.

Just like you use here.

Would you know anything about it?

Good heavens, no. Why would I?

Who died?

A young man named Jamie Kavanagh.

- Did you know him?
- Of course she didn't.

We aren't allowed to mix with the men.

We understand contraband tobacco
moves quite easily around the prison.

Perhaps it was concealed
in a laundry bundle.

We do sometimes do pass
along a bit of baccy.

And why not?

Where's the harm in it, and
we get a little for ourselves.

It makes life a little more bearable.

Just as the lye makes washing easier.

- Doesn't mean we killed someone.
- Who else has access to this building?

We leave here at seven o'clock at night.

This shed isn't guarded. If
somebody wanted to get in,

it wouldn't be hard.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

How do you explain this, Mrs. Mulcahy?

Well, that's strange isn't it.

The only way this paper could have
been inserted into this shirt dry

is if you had done it.

Well, I didn't.

Perhaps it was you, Miss Crowley.

She had nothing to do with it.

It was me.

Sometimes, an inmate will pass me a note

to send along to another inmate.

- And what does it say?
- I have no idea.

You don't speak Irish?

Never learned to read.

"Fag an Bealach."

"Clear the way."

It's an Irish battle cry.

- This note was found in your clothing.
- Strange.

We know you are a member
of the Clan na Gael.

- Is that a crime?
- They have committed many crimes.

Including, we suspect, a
murder within this prison.

I didn't have nothing
to do with nothing.

You know something to do
with whatever your people

are planning right now. This
message was meant for you.

Your cell number is on the back.

This is a battle cry, Mr. O'Kelly.

And you are implicated in
whatever this refers to.

Have you nothing to say?

I do have one thing to say.

Long live Ireland.

You placed this note inside
Mr. O'Kelly's clothing.

Did you also write it?

I told you, I can't read.

If someone gave it to you, then who?

Mrs. Mulcahy, we know
that you are lying.

If we inform the Warden of
what you've been up to here,

then you will be removed from laundry
duty and confined to your cell.

We never knew who's sent the notes,

we just had to put them in
the right laundry packet.

Please don't report us.

Birdie's a widow and she has
two children waiting for her.

She should never have been
sent here in the first place.

She was charged with theft.

I stole a gentleman's gold pocket watch.

My children needed to eat more
than he needed to tell time.

You were also charged with assault.

He hit me. So I hit him back.

And my brother got into
trouble and I took him in.

The magistrate just assumed
I was mixed up in it.

Ladies, please, your crimes
are not in question here.

We need to know the names of
the men who put you up to this.

Who wrote this note?

Mr. Kavanagh was the one
who paid us in tobacco.

- The man who just died?
- Yes.

I must say I'm proud of you,
Nomi. Sticking to your guns.

So far Bell shows no sign in yielding.

They won't even talk to us.

You need to be careful.

I've been able to fend for myself
and my mother my whole life.

- You needn't be concerned for me.
- Yes, but I am.

I think you should meet
the rest of my family.

I'd like you to meet Margaret, my wife.

I'd like that.

Does she know about me?

She only knows I have a daughter.

If the Clan na Gael are
communicating a battle cry,

we should consider the worst.

An attack of some kind?

Mr. Kelleher, if you
weren't a Catholic yourself,

I'd be very worried for your safety.

I've been quite vigilant
since Donovan's death.

Which reminds me.

This were in his cell when he died.

A note.

You made no mention of a note earlier.

I hadn't read the others. I
didn't realize it was important.

Irish again. What does it say?

It translates to "Expect gift tomorrow."

- Did he receive anything?
- Not that I know of.

10. That was the number
of Mr. Kavanagh's cell.

Right.

Meaning it was intended
for Mr. Kavanagh.

And yet, Mr. Donovan ended up with it.

Perhaps it led to his death.

He knew too much.

"Expect gift tomorrow."
"Gift delivered."

We also found this in Kavanagh's cell.

A match case, hidden under his mattress.

Was he a smoker?

I suspected the same.

But we found no trace
of cigarettes or a pipe,

only chewing tobacco.

Perhaps he intended to
light something else.

You mean a bomb.

The Clan na Gael may be
planning something much bigger

than a simple assassination.

- Come in.
- Thank you.

Margaret, what are you doing here?

I was on my way to the butcher's

and I thought I'd surprise you.

I should go, excuse me.

No, wait.

Margaret, I'd like you
to meet Nomi Johnstone.

How d'you do?

Thomas?

Nomi is, well,

oh bloody hell...

she's my daughter.

Your...

I thought you said
she was in St. Mary's.

I came to Toronto some time ago.

And you didn't tell me?

I only just found out.

It's very nice to meet you, Nomi.

Now if you'll excuse me.

- Please, let me walk you out...
- No. I know the way out.

Mr. Dillon.

We suspect someone in this prison
is attempting to build a bomb.

- Is that so?
- You're an expert in this field.

I don't know anything about it.

- I told you, William.
- Julia.

He didn't even manage
to get the canal right...

- Still, he...
- ... And that was with freedom of movement

and plenty of resources.

- He has the knowledge...
- You read the newspaper.

- He's a laughing stock.
- Nonsense!

No?

You blame your
underlings for not placing

the explosives properly, but
you're the one who directed them.

I was not involved in the
bombing of the Welland Canal.

If I had been,

and those laying the dynamite
had listened to my instructions...

I assure you, the canal
would have been destroyed.

So you are an expert, then.

You could put it that way.

Then maybe you tried to regain
some of your former 'glory'

by organizing a similar plot here.

I'm in line to get out
of here soon enough.

Unfortunately, if such a
plot were to be uncovered,

you would be the prime suspect.

And as such, you would
never leave this prison.

If someone wanted to make a splash,

and they were able to
obtain some explosives,

I suspect they would
want to take out a wall.

In order to escape?

Neh other reason.

How large of an
explosive would one need?

Not very large, if it were packed right.

Maybe the size of a couple bars of soap.

Could be smuggled out
in a laundry packet.

You'd better watch where
you're going, mister.

What are you fellows up to?

Get out of here copper, or
we'll shut your mouth for ya.

- No talking. You know the rules.
- Guard!

The man just said to be quiet.

We'll need to have every cell searched.

Julia, perhaps you should...

Why do I bother?

Mr. Giles.

Chief Constable, are you all right?

Regan, he has matches. They're...

William.

Stop!

Stop!

Halt!

- Don't move!
- Halt! Stay where you are!

- Stop! Lower your guns.
- All right men.

Lower your weapons. We
can detain the prisoners.

Nobody move!

Get back inside now!

I believe this belongs to you.

It was used to carry the explosive
that blew the hole in the wall.

It was given to you by
the priest, wasn't it?

His vocation won't
protect him from charges

of aiding and abetting
a dangerous prison break.

We understand you are
married, Mr. Regan,

with three young children.

Facilitating the escape
of dangerous criminals

would extend your sentence considerably.

You had no chance of
escaping, Mr. Regan.

You ran right into the open
arms of the prison guards.

Bit of a miscalculation, hmm?

Wasn't supposed to be that way.

What happened?

Perhaps someone knew
about your plan, Mr. Regan.

Perhaps you were betrayed.

I've good news, ladies.

Bell has agreed to negotiate
if you will return to work.

Why the change of heart?

The replacement girls
haven't worked out too well.

There's been pressure from the
public to get things back to normal.

Does that mean we'll be paid properly?

It means at least they will return
to the table and talk to you.

Stay out here and they won't.

Regan maintains a rigid silence,

but one of the others
is not so inclined.

He says that it was
indeed the visiting priest

who gave matches and the Bible to him.

Apparently, the Father is a
fanatical Irish Nationalist.

And what of the murder of Donovan?

Confirmed it was Kavanagh.

Donovan knew that a
break out was planned.

He was killed for his silence.

But why was Kavanaugh then murdered?

I was hoping you could provide
the answer to that question.

Retaliation perhaps.

Prisoners, you'll find, are not always

possessed of the sharpest minds, Doctor.

Regan claimed that
something had gone wrong.

Had the guards changed
their movements outside?

Certainly not.

Then someone gave them misinformation.

Could someone inside the prison
know of the movements outside?

No one is allowed outside
at that time of day.

It would be impossible.

The women.

The laundry shed has a
clear vantage of that area.

They could have learned
the guards' movements.

And then lied to ruin the escape.

Sending them straight
into the line of fire.

We believe the priest
who provided the prisoners

with the dynamite is
a relative of yours?

No!

The men were planning an escape.

You aided in facilitating this plan

with the passing of
notes in the laundry.

There is no point in
lying, Miss Crowley.

The prisoners have all been caught

and the priest will soon be in custody.

Your part in all of
this will come to light.

Why would you do such a thing

when you were not even
a part of the escape?

I had to...

it was for the cause, ma'am.

But you sent them to their death.

What?

You clearly knew the
movement of the guards.

Yet you gave the prisoners
the wrong information.

- Leading them directly into the guards.
- No I...

No, I didn't, I...

It wasn't you.

William?

Miss Crowley handles
the washing the clothes.

Mrs. Mulcahy here
handles the dry clothing.

And the passing of the contraband.

And has the opportunity
to alter the notes.

You can read and write, can't you?

There is nowhere to escape to.

Why turn on your own people?

Your husband was a nationalist himself.

He was Clan na Gael.

And he was killed

in a stupid fight.

He was shot by one of his own.

And for what?

To hurt good men and
women on the other side?

We're all Irish, aren't we?

What good did it do him

or his country to die like that?

So you made sure the escape failed?

I wanted them shot,

the lot of them.

It is what they deserve.

And Mr. Kavanagh?

Did he deserve to be poisoned
with lye in his tobacco?

He found out

that I told Donovan about the escape.

He would have ruined my...

I had to.

Someone has got to stop
this senseless slaughter.

Even if...

a few men die.

Thank you for coming.

Are you back at work?

Yes. But nothing will change.

Two women collapsed yesterday.

One was exhausted

and the other injured by the
long distance electric current.

Good Lord.

But we'll fight on.

I want to apologize for my
behavior when I saw you last.

There's no need, you
didn't know I was coloured?

I didn't.

But truthfully that
was not what angered me.

It was my husband I
was angry with, not you.

I think he had the best of
intentions, Mrs. Brackenreid.

Margaret.

Margaret.

My husband has a history of dishonesty,

I am his wife and he
still hides things from me.

Perhaps he was afraid
you would lose you.

I think he was more worried
about that than anything.

How much time do you have left to serve?

Three months.

If I last.

We will do our best to ensure you
are properly treated, Mr. Giles.

In fact, we'll see if we
can do even better than that.

Thank you.

Thank you.

We were wondering, Warden,

if there was anything you could
do to help Mr. Giles' situation.

He was brave to do what he did,

but he may face repercussions
from the other inmates.

Not under my watch he won't.

I'm glad to hear it.

But I wonder if it's possible

to remove him from this
environment entirely.

I fear for his safety now.

I will contact Brigadier Archibald,

the parole man in Ottawa, straight away.

I appreciate that.

I don't want another
dead man on my watch.

Margaret.

I was nearby.

I thought we could walk home together.

Home.

Are you sure?

It's our home, Thomas.

Even though it may not be
the most harmonious one.

Are you coming or not?

Well, I suppose we should make
our way to the train station.

It's a pity it isn't still
the capital of Canada.

We have Ottawa.

I'm sorry we didn't get to
explore more of Kingston, Julia.

To be honest, William...

I prefer a busman's holiday.

There's nothing quite like
a little murder and mayhem.

Train station, please.

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