Original subtitles

Howdy. That last time you did

the laundry, you flooded the

kitchen. I'll do it after work.

I'm going to be late. I know, I

know. You look nice. Thank you.

How are things at Scotland Yard?

Wonderful. Inspector Blake is

such a gentleman. So

considerate. Quite the nicest

person I work for. Thank you for

that. You don't count again.

Thank you. I'll do them. And

yes, I'll do them properly. Now

get your things and go. But.

Coat, hat, bag. Now. Good

morning, my dear. Oh, Barnabas,

I'm so sorry. I don't have time

for breakfast. I need to be in

early today. So much to do.

This is the third time this week

we will miss breakfast together.

And it is the cornerstone of our

day. The steamer pot bridge and

jamming the table. Lizzie will

keep you company.

Scarlet. Mr. Potts.

I've never seen Ivy this happy.

Mr. Potts. So we all have to

make adjustments. I am

aware of that.

I do not wish to be seen as a

stick in a mud. But I am a man

of routine. Because without

routine, Ms. Scarlett, there is

anarchy.

Well, I have a very busy day

ahead of me. Clarence is

visiting his mother for a few

days and I'll be alone in the

office. So perhaps I can trouble

you for one more break in your

routine to assist me with the

dishes. Ms. Scarlett, I am yet

to take my morning tea, let

alone peruse the latest

headlines. Mr. Potts,

if we work together, then Ivy

will be free this evening to

give you time and attention

rather than doing the washing

Anyone? But I have a specific

method when it comes to the

cleaning of dishes. Which I must

insist we adhere to. Right.

Right. Indeed. I do

confess, been difficult to tear

myself away from this morning's

news. The front page stories are

grimly compelling. Are you aware

of the Thames Reaper? I am

indeed. I've been following the

story with great interest. Four

murders in three short months

and then nothing. Until now.

He has written a letter to the

Morning Herald advising he plans

to kill again. Goodness.

It sent a chill down my spine

when I read that the Thames

Reaper is back. We will not be

safe in our beds until he is

caught. It pains me to say this,

there are times when I truly

believe there is something

rotten at the heart of this

great nation. Intriguing. You

don't mind if I take this, do

you, Mr. Fox? What? No, no, no.

Ms. Scarlett. Ms. Scarlett.

An.

Sam.

Thames Reaper returns. Get your

bald in Errol.

I think you need to refer back

to what you said already.

Indeed, Mr. Barnes. What? My

name's Eliza Scarlett. I. I

wondered If I might have a

moment of your time. 1200 words

by 4 o'. Clock. 1200? Yes, sir.

That'll do, lady. Thank you.

Thank you. Well, if you're

looking for work, I already have

a secretary. I'm a private

detective, Mr. Barnes, and I

would very much like to help

your newspaper solve the mystery

of the Thames Reaper. You have

some information? I have a

number of theories and insights

as well as leads. Madam, I'm the

editor of a national newspaper.

I have no shortage of people who

chase up leads. They are called

journalists. It's been almost a

year since the first murder and

no one, not the police, not your

newspaper, nor any of your

competitors has the slightest

idea who this Thames Reaper is.

This case needs fresh insight

and I will work around the

clock, seven days a week to

bring you answers. You bring me

something new, something I don't

already know, and then perhaps I

will hire you.

Mr. Bailey, my name's. I know

exactly who you are. There are

not many lady detectives in

London. Pleasure to meet you,

Ms. Scott. I hear it was you who

broke the story of the Thames

Reaper. Guilty as charged.

In fact, these are my notes.

1200 words by 4 o'. Clock

exactly. So what brings

you here? Well, I also have an

interest in the Reaper case and

now that he's returned, I ask

that your editor hire me to do

my own investigation. Well,

best of luck. The man has short

arms and very long pockets when

it comes to paying even his own

staff. Well, we've agreed that

if I do find any new

information, he will indeed pay

me a fee. And it occurred to me

that, well, perhaps it might

benefit us both if we share any

insight that we might have on

We're on the verge of closing

due to poor sales. How did the

story come to your attention?

In November of last year, a body

was found on the banks of the

Thames near London Bridge. A

young man in his early 20s.

There was little other

information, not even his name.

Normally I would have ignored

it, but it was a slow news day,

so I wrote a couple of hundred

words that ended up hidden away

on page six. Then the next day a

letter arrived.

It was typed on plain paper and

written all in lowercase. It

simply read, edward sleeps by

London Bridge. The mention of

London Bridge made me think of

the drowning. The day before. I

spoke to a police contact and

managed to get the name of the

dead man. As the letter said,

it was indeed Edward. Edward

Turnbull. Had his name been

released to the public? No. And

the letter was posted the day

before my story was published.

Compelling evidence that whoever

wrote the letter murdered the

victim. What happened then? I

wrote a bigger story mentioning

the mysterious letter. It was a

full page article. This time on

page two. Word began to spread,

sales went up. Mr. Barnes

requested follow up articles.

By the end of the week it was

front page news. Three weeks

later, another body was found in

a different part of the river.

And another letter arrived

again. The location and name

correct again was lowercase

anonymous. And formatted in the

same precise fashion came our

front page story. For days, if

not weeks on end, circulation

began to rise. Never seen Mr.

Bond so happy. And the next

victim was a month later. It was

around this time someone in our

office, I can't remember who,

began to use the moniker the

Thames Reaper. I didn't like the

name, but Mr. Barnes insisted we

used it. There is something of a

circus ringmaster about him.

And the fourth victim followed

the same pattern? Exactly the

same. But that was six months

ago. And I believe that to be an

end to the killings. Until

yesterday, when he wrote again.

This time simply saying, I have

returned.

Come on.

Morning. Morning, ivy.

Morning,

Inspector. Ms. Woods. How are

you today? Very well, thank you.

I've managed to find those

records from Clerkenwell.

That's the original. These are

the copies. Most efficient.

Thank you. And how is Ms.

Scarlett coping without you?

She's been very accommodating.

So there'll be a hot dinner

waiting for you when you return

home this evening. I wouldn't go

that far. Was there anything

else you needed? Yes, but I

think you have quite enough to

deal with already. Nonsense.

What is it you need? The new

desk sergeant. What's his name?

Bernard. He has written up a

duty log for last night, but his

handwriting is illegible. Leave

her with me. I'll type it up and

you'll have it in an hour.

Which is exactly what I hoped

you would say. Thank you. Oh,

and these need to be copied and

filed. They're urgent. You would

rather they didn't go in the

general filing train? You read

my mind. I'll see to it myself.

Miss woods, you're a credit to

What are the postmarks on the

letters? From all over the city.

Each one from a different

borough. And where are the

letters now? With the police.

Which is rather vexing since

each body was found in the river

at a different location. The

case spans several

jurisdictions. The City of

London Police, the Surrey

Police, the Bow Street Division.

You really think you can find

something new? I can certainly

try. Mr. Biley? Yes?

Telegram for you, sir. Thank

you. I'm Being called back

to the office. Another letter's

Thank you, Mr. Stevens. I would

estimate he's been in the water

for a day. Perhaps a little

longer. There's minimal

discoloration of the soft tissue

with only slight bloating.

There's an open wound to the

back of the head. Possible blunt

trauma injury.

Were you here when he was pulled

out? Yes, sir. Was he lifted or

dragged? Sir? Did his feet touch

the ground? No, sir.

Inspector Blake.

Inspector Blake. Miss Scarlett.

Your business is to see me or

him. Or both. May I introduce

Mr. Bailey from the Morning

Herald? He's the journalist

covering the Tamza Reaper story.

You believe this is connected?

I do, yes. Another letter

arrived at our office not one

Caleb sleeps by Limehouse Docks.

You're working with his

newspaper? In a manner of

speaking. I'll need you to give

a statement. Gladly. Yes, I was

talking to Mr. Bailey. I do not

need a statement from you, Miss

Scarlet, unless there's

something you can tell me that

he cannot. Well, I've just begun

my investigation, so. Not at

present, no. Then I bid you Good

day. Scott McCalla. Back to her

Huh? Mr. Watts, I'm in urgent

need of background information

for a case. May I remind you

of our agreement regarding your

access to these premises? You

need to state in writing the

nature of your business, the

name of your client and the

duration of your stay with one

day's notice. Is this about the

washing up? No. Well, not just

that. I give you my word you

will not have to clean another

dish for the next week? Months.

And I want to cook breakfast or

dinner on the days when Ivy is

otherwise engaged. Very well. I

accept. I take it you can cook?

I'm as good as they. Come. We

must make haste. I have a

staffing shortage at Algate

Mortuary which requires my

attention. Understood. You might

be interested to know, Mr.

Potts, that it's the Thames

Reaper that I'm investigating.

He's killed again. Indeed.

We've received no cadavers

today, so the body's most likely

still at the scene or in trench.

It's just background information

that I require on his previous

victims. I assume that the

records will be kept here? Oh,

that is correct, yes. We are the

central office for all such

documents. Indeed. We have a

designated section for all the

bodies pulled from the Thames.

Drunks, careless boatmen,

suicides. We receive four or

five bodies from the river each

month. More in February. Why

February? It's Valentine's Day.

Many young men propose to their

sweethearts and are rejected. I

may throw myself in if Ivy

doesn't marry me soon. This job

of Ivy's is new and exciting at

the moment, but things will

settle down. She used to think

that I was new and exciting

Details of the coroner's reports

on the other victims. You got

access to the coroner's reports

after one day? I wrote to them

for months and didn't get a

thing. I have a friend at the

city mortuary. Well, he's not

exactly a friend. It's a long

story. As you know, the cause

of death for the previous four

victims was drowning. There was

no obvious defense wounds,

which, well, would suggest that

the killer was someone with

physical strength capable of

holding their victims

underwater. My theory has always

been that he's some kind of

manual worker. A docker,

perhaps. The victims were all

men in their 20s and 30s,

perfectly capable of fighting

back. Certainly. The third

victim, Alexander Sochnev. The

Russian? Yes. He was well built

and over 6ft tall. I noticed

there were very few details on

his file. Just the basics. Not

even an ex of kin. Any idea

where I can get more information

on him? The main frustration

with this case is that the

information is spread out across

a variety of different police

jurisdictions.

There's someone I could perhaps

ask for help.

Absolutely not. It's just a

small favor. A small favor that

could cost me my job. I'm not

getting you confidential police

files, Lizzie. You shouldn't ask

such things of me. You're right.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I

shouldn't have asked. Apology

accepted. Just.

Fine. I'll ask. Inspector Blake.

What time will you finish? Oh,

not for another couple of hours.

Some things to finish up. Don't

overdo it. You need your rest

too. I'll be fine. Now go on,

off you pop. I'm not five.

You are to me.

How many times, Miss Scarlett?

The door was open and I knocked.

I'm here to propose a deal.

One that I believe is mutually

beneficial. The Thames Reaper

killings began before you took

up your post at Scotland Yard.

The case notes and evidence are

spread across London in

different police divisions, and

it would take you days, if not

longer, to gather the

information. What you need is a

concise summary of all the key

leads and clues to date.

Names, dates, maps, coroner

reports, together with condensed

notes and working theories from

the last year to the present

day. I've been taking a keen

interest in the case. That's all

I can say. The latest killing

falls under your jurisdiction,

but the others don't. But given

that Scotland Yard is now

investigating the case, I'm sure

that A request could be sent to

gather all the evidence here.

She promised. You didn't ask

Ivy? I'd never put her in that

position. So what

do you say? Hire me and I'll

help you catch him. What? Is she

being paid by the Morning

Herald? And don't lie,

remember? I can tell. No, you

can't. My fee's yet to be

negotiated, but given that the

editor would sell his own

grandmother for a story, I can't

imagine getting money from him

will be much of a problem. If

you solve this, he'll pay you

more than I can. It's not just

about the money. Nor is it about

the glory of catching him.

Well, maybe just a little.

It's. It's a itch

that I just have to scratch.

It's a puzzle to solve. And that

puzzle's more likely to be

solved working with you.

Working for me? Semantics.

So was that an offer?

It was. On one condition.

I cannot work for both your

newspaper and the police. I'm

sure you understand that. It's a

conflict of interest. I do.

Absolutely. You've been very

accommodating. Thank you.

You've quite restored my faith

in your profession. I haven't

had the best experience with

journalists. Neither have I. In

truth, I'm not sure how much

longer I'll continue in my

present career. I come from a

family of doctors. My father and

three older brothers. You

something of a black sheet, Mr.

Bailey? Apparently so. Do you

have any siblings? No, it's just

me. My parents have both passed

away. I'm sure they'd be proud

if they could see you now.

I assume you won't be able to

share any working theories

Scotland Yard might have. No, I

won't. The conversation is

closed. And all that is left to

say is best of luck. Ms. Scott.

Good morning, Miss Scarlet.

Inspector Blake. Have you

severed your dealings with the

newspaper? I have. Is that true?

I thought you could tell when I

was lying. Very well. Come

along. Where are we going? We

have an identification for the

latest victim. I could not

believe my eyes when I saw who

it was. Caleb Hunt, Junior clerk

at Algate Mortuary. One of my

colleagues took delivery of his

body yesterday afternoon. I was

out visiting some of the other

mortaries, which now fall under

my jurisdiction. As you know,

there was no identification with

the body, so my colleague, Mr.

Wormsley, having never met

Caleb, failed to recognize him.

I, on the other hand, met

Caleb's acquaintance several

times at Aldgate. What can you

tell us about him? Rather odd

fellow. Withdrawn, few if any

friends. And as for his

Timekeeping. Well, I did not

exaggerate when I say it was

most unsatisfactory. So when he

did not turn up for work

yesterday afternoon, it rang no

alarm bells. Was the post mortem

been completed? Last night.

Fracture of the skull just above

the nape of the neck. Most

likely at the cause of death.

Not drowning like the others.

The lungs of a drowned cadaver

would be filled with water due

to involuntary inhalation. His

lungs were empty. So he was dead

before he entered the water.

There were scuff marks on the

heels of his boots. I would

wager he was dragged to the

river having been killed

somewhere else. Where did he

live? Limehouse. Not far from

where his body was found. Do you

I'm going to get you break

something else about this latest

murder that's different from the

others. The letter sent by the

Reaper arrived the same day that

the body was found. And with the

others it was a day later. What

do you think caused this change

in behavior? Perhaps something

forced him to panic. Or someone.

Caleb's lodging room must be up

Good God,

The man was obsessed. Killer

Punt's murder was no random

Go to Scotland Yard and get some

men to help with the search.

I've sent message to the Yard.

Uniform will be here shortly to

help with the search. We're

perfectly capable of searching

the room ourselves. It's called

following procedure, Ms.

Scarlett. You should try it

sometimes. Besides, we may miss

something. I make it my business

not to miss a thing.

Cheerful fellow, wasn't he? He

worked in the mortuary and saw

firsthand the victims. Perhaps

he was carrying out his own

investigation. Perhaps. Or he

got too close to the killer's

identity and became the next

victim. There's also the

possibility that he himself was

the killer. Perhaps the last

victim fought back and killed

him in self defense.

What do we have here?

I would wager this was a key to

a safe deposit box. I've seen

similar before. Does it not seem

odd that a man who lived in such

squalor would have need for a

safe deposit box? It's not only

valuables. People wish to hide

secrets too. We need to find out

how many banks in London have

safe deposit boxes. I would

guess it's between 20 to 30. I

will then need to apply for

multiple warrants for multiple

banks. That will take time, so I

doubt we'll be able to pursue

this leave for at least a few

days. Or we could just go here.

Bank of Switzerland,

Threadneedle Street, Block 17.

This is most irregular.

Nevertheless, I think you'll

Find everything covered in the

search warrant. So if you would

be kind enough to open box 17.

If you insist.

May I ask, is the box in

question registered to a Mr.

Caleb Hunt? The bank does not

hold list of client names here.

No names, no questions.

Absolute privacy. I would have

thought that was obvious,

Inspector. Can you please sign

And here.

And here?

Thank you.

Nothing.

Might you be able to give us a

description of the egg count

holder? There are many boxes and

many clients in this bank. I

merely give them access to the

room. I don't sit here to see

which client opens which box.

What a ridiculous suggestion,

Herr Klinsman. I shall take you

straight down to Scotland Yard.

Waste many hours of your time

for no other reason than I find

your rudeness extremely irksome.

But what I can tell you is that

there are two clients registered

to this particular box. Each has

their own key. And the account

holder information is not kept

here, you say? It is kept in our

head's office in Switzerland.

Then please send a telegram and

request the information. Does

your warrant cover Switzerland,

Inspector? No, but it will.

Thank you.

Pompous, jumped up little Clark.

I can't abide any kind of

rudeness. Seem to remember you

were rather rude to me when we

first met. Getting the warrant

will take some time, given that

it's another country I'll need

to see speak to the Foreign

Office. Let's meet again when I

have what we need. Well, in the

meantime, I'll go through the

case notes and see if there's

anything I missed. I thought you

made it your business not to

miss a thing, Miss Scarlet.

Back to the station.

Final.

Good day, Miss Scarlett. Mr.

Bailey. I apologize for

interrupting. I won't keep you.

No, please.

I have come to make you an offer

to which you will say no.

I'm listening. Now that you're

working for Scotland Yard, our

editor has become far more

interested in you. Mr. Barnes

wishes to offer you a fee to

pass on any information that you

glean from working with Scotland

Yard. All in the strictest

confidence, of course. Does he

now? He wishes me to offer a fee

of 10 pounds. However, he

confided I have the leeway to go

to 20 if you are a tough

negotiator, which I assume you

are. Well, you assume correctly.

But I'm afraid the answer is no.

Which is what I told my edit he

would say. But he threatened to

dismiss me if I didn't at least

try. And that was me trying to.

Well, I shall leave you to your

business. However, our paths

may not cross again, so there Is

something else. I wondered.

Might you be free tomorrow

evening to dine? Not to discuss

the case, you understand. Just

as well as two people

who wish to go out to dinner.

Oh,

I shall give you some time to

think on it. You know where to

contact me. Good day, Mr.

Carlot. Good day, Mr. Bailey.

Good lord. Good evening, miss

scarlet. Mr. Potts. Ivy's not

home yet, I'm afraid. It's nine.

Eight o'. Clock.

Why do I bother? What's

troubling you, Miss? Garned up.

I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I do

not have the skill or the

patience to cook anything

edible. I thought you said you

could cook. Well, I lied.

Sorry, that was uncalled for.

Cooking is a mystery to me and

one that I cannot seem to

fathom. Cooking is no mystery.

Science, plain and simple.

Chemistry, to be precise.

Up you get. What? Why,

I am going to teach you how to

cook. Well, you can cook, Mr.

Bots. How do you think I've

survived on my own all these

years? In fact, my plum pudding

is really rather delicious.

See, cooking is all about

preparation. We do not try to

improvise or, God forbid, see it

as some sort of artistic

endeavor. Instead, we plan,

plan and plan again. If you say

So that's the potatoes done in

the bowl. And we put the bowl at

the top. Top of the line.

Because we want all our

ingredients in order of usage.

Very good.

Feelings? Strangely serene.

It's feeling quite alien to me

when it comes to cooking. I like

this approach. I too find

cooking a relaxing pursuit.

However, I must admit I prefer

it when Ivy cooks for me. She's

after all, a wonderful cook and

a wonderful woman. Ivy thinks a

great deal of you, Mr. Potts. A

great deal indeed.

Right, on to the next stage.

The cooking. Ah. The water is

now at boiling point at an exact

temperature of 212 degrees

Fahrenheit. Potatoes, if you

I really must congratulate you,

Ms. Collett. You have proved to

be an excellent student.

Diligent, willing to learn.

Thank you, Mr. Fox. I wish I

could say the same for some of

my students at work. In

particular, I don't mean to

speak ill of the dead. Poor

Caleb tries, I might, to teach

him. He was not a good student.

Had to correct his

administrative errors on more

than one occasion. Including one

of cadaver involved in the very

case you're working on at the

moment, the Thames Reaper.

Caleb made a woeful mistake.

However, I'm a man of detail and

Judy corrected it, so no harm

done. What mistake?

Thank you, Mr. Stevens.

Take it down, lads. Sir.

I want everything carefully

itemized. Yes, sir.

So gentle does it. It needs to

remain intact. Inspector Blake.

Can I have a moment, Ms.

Scarlet,

Last night I had a conversation

with Mr. Potts about Kaler Vand.

Obviously I didn't go into

details about what we found

here, but what I did learn was

that as a junior clerk, one of

his responsibilities was to log

the possessions found on the

corpses that were brought into

the mortuary. According to Mr.

Potts, he was rather slapdash.

Sometimes he'd miss things out,

sometimes he'd make spelling

mistakes. And this was exactly

the case with the third victim,

a Russian named Alexander

Sochnev. Caleb misspelt the

Russian's name. He spelt

Alexander with an X and Sochnev

with an F. Mr. Potts Notice a

few days later and corrected it.

But by that time the Reaper had

already sent the letter to the

newspaper with the exact same

spelling mistakes. Caleb passed

on the identities of the dead to

whoever wrote the letters.

Probably in return for money.

And that's why the letters to

the newspaper took a couple of

days after each body was found.

Reaper had to wait for Caleb to

send the information. Sir.

What have you been up to,

Caleb?

It's a blackmail letter. Caleb

Hunt requesting more money since

his last demand was ignored.

And if he doesn't receive the

money, he'll expose the truth

about the Thames Reaper.

Your name's the recipient of the

letter. Mr. Sydney Barnes,

Editor, Morning Herald.

I am no murderer. There is no

Thames Reaper, Mr. Barnes. You

made him up. Bodies were just

some poor souls found in the

Thames. And with the help of

Caleb Hunt providing identities,

you were able to claim the

deaths were the work of some

figment of your imagination.

Why on earth would I want to do

that? Perhaps to increase

circulation because your

newspaper was failing. I've

never even met this Caleb Hunt.

He was blackmailing someone to

give him money in return for his

silence regarding the Reaper's

identity. According to his

letter, that someone was you.

Mr. Barnes. I believe this is

what accounts for Caleb's

murder. I've had no dealings

with this man. Come.

Sir,

The bank of Switzerland have

confirmed your name as the

registered account holder for a

safe deposit box used by Mr.

Hunt. I believe this was a drop

off point for money between the

two of you to pay for his

I will not say one more word

before speaking with my lawyer.

Barnes is denying it, of course,

but there's enough evidence to

charge him.

Perhaps in the future you might

ask before opening my new bottle

of whiskey. Well, I was

waiting For a rather long time.

Perhaps if you'd allowed me to

attend the questioning. Perhaps

in the future you may attend. I

will think on it. I will need a

full report of the case on my

desk first thing. First thing.

That's what I expect from my

men. I'll not make exception for

you, of course. Is that a

problem? Are you otherwise

engaged this evening? It was

a possibility, yes.

Good day in twitch Blake.

May not be home for dinner.

This rate, neither will I.

You're dining out? Um,

Possibly. With Inspector Blake?

No, not Inspector Blake. Why

would you assume that? Well,

you've been spending much time

together recently. Someone else.

Someone you haven't met. Who? I

just said it was someone you

haven't met. He seems like a

nice enough man, but I'm not

sure I will go. I don't know

him. Well, that's the point in

spending time together, Lizzie.

Like me and Barnabas, it wasn't

love at first sight, it was for

him. But once we spend more time

together, we got closer.

Speaking of Mr. Potts,

I'll let you get on Scarlet.

Mr. Potts.

Barnabas. What are you doing

here? I have some exciting news.

Reverend Harvey has had a

cancellation next month. So he

wondered if we'd like to book it

for our wedding day. I'm at

work, Barnabas. Very busy. Your

shift in soon. I was hoping to

escort you home. I will be

working late this evening again.

I really must get on.

Very well, my dear. Very well.

I got your note, I believe.

Table at Barron's. Oh, lovely.

You heard about your editor,

Mr. Barnes. The whole office

has. I never warmed to the man,

but I did not think him capable

of such deceit. I don't know the

full story, of course, but we

have all evening for you to

enlighten me.

Do not worry, Miss Scarlet. I

merely tease. I should not be

trying to coax any information

out of you. I'm very much off

Shall we?

Come.

I got those fires ready for you,

Inspector. Ms. Woods. Why are

you still here? Oh, well, I had

to finish those reports. And

then there was the filing to do

and the logbooks to transcribe.

But another hour or so and I'll

be done. You cannot work this

amount of hours. You'll make

yourself ill. I'm fine. Please,

You do not look fine.

Perhaps I'll bit north more than

I can chew. The truth is,

between your needs and the rest

of my duties, the volume of work

is great. Indeed.

As woods, you're clearly not

coping. So I believe we need to

rethink your position.

The Paper will be a

laughingstock when the news

breaks. And so will I. I've just

spent the last year writing

about a killer who doesn't

actually exist. Perhaps I'll

make a career change. How's the

private detective business?

I apologize. I promise not to

talk about the case. And that is

all I've done. Let us talk about

something else entirely. Like

how elegant you look. You're too

kind, Mr. Bailey. As for the

case, I'm more than happy to

discuss it. And a crucial piece

of evidence against Mr. Barnes.

There was a safe deposit box in

a bank on Threadneedle Street.

It's a place where money was

deposited between your editor

and the mortuary clerk, Caleb

Hunt. We found the clerk's key

to the box, but as yet, no luck

with the key that belonged to

Mr. Barnes. Intriguing. And now

I know why. Because you have it

on your key ring. Mr. Bailey,

when we left your office, it

wasn't you talking about the

case that unsettled me so. It

was watching you lock up your

And when we arrived at the

restaurant, contrary to what I

told you, I didn't go to the

powder room. I went to the

cloakroom to search your coat.

You invented the Thames reefer

story. You tried to

cover your tracks by posing as

your editor when you hired Caleb

and did the same when you

secured the safe deposit box.

But when Caleb blackmailed you

with a threat of exposing what

you'd done, you killed him.

I'll not sit here and be

insulted by this nonsense. You

yourself said the paper was on

the verge of closing. This was

your way to improve circulation,

wasn't it?

I sent a message to Scotland

Yard the moment I found the key.

Mr. Bailey was in. Piece has

just been cuffed. I doubt it'll

take much to get a full

confession.

I take you would like to attend

the questioning. Yes, very much

so. Thank you. But perhaps next

time you might wish to wear

something a little less eye

catching.

Barnabas. Ivy. You should not

be out alone a day time of

night. I have some news. Some

very exciting news.

Inspector Blake has asked me to

dedicate myself to his work.

Only like his assistant.

Oh. Oh, I'm bursting

with pride, my dear. I've missed

you. I've missed you. Will you

miss me? No longer? From now on,

my house will be more civilized.

What say we have a nice glass of

sherry by the fireside to

celebrate? I wholly endorse that

idea. Perhaps while we sip the

sherry, we can discuss the

wedding date that Reverend

Harvey has offered. Let's just

enjoy the evening together.

Barnabas. We'll talk about

another time. Of course, my

dear. Of course. Another time.