Original subtitles

Eliza Scarlet, yet again.

Do you think you're someone

special? Well,

you're wrong. You're not

special. Far from it.

Eliza Scarlett, are you

listening to me? Good.

You will write out 100 times,

I am no one special.

Come on, hurry up. I am no one

special. I am no one special.

I am no one special.

Whatever it is you think I know,

you're mistaken. You've been

poking around, asking questions,

and then I find you in my room.

They can explain, but not here.

It's Cotton Yard. Because that's

where you're going, Mrs.

Skinner. Right now, in fact.

Good evening, Miss Scarlet.

Detective Fitzroy, gentlemen.

Punctual as ever. As promised,

I deliver to you Mr. Silas

Skinner last miss robber and

blackmailer to a client of mine.

Put him in the wagon. Who are

you? No one's special.

Sam.

It.

Oh, good, you're here,

Detective Fitzroy. I had to read

your message three times before

it sunk in, sir. I could hardly

believe it. The great Abraham

Barrett dead. I take it you're

an admirer. Indeed I am, sir.

In my estimation, Barrett and

Kapoor are second only to

Gilbert and Sullivan. I have

often wondered in such a

partnership, which I would

prefer. To be the composer of

the music, like poor Mr.

Barrett here, or to write the

stories like Mr. Kapoor.

Speaking of the writer, it was

Mr. Kapoor who was last seen

with the deceased. The stagehand

saw them arguing in the

auditorium after tonight's

performance. Twenty minutes

later, a gunshot rang out from

in here. The press has always

fueled rumours of a tempestuous

relationship between the two

men, but whatever their

tensions, their operettas were a

joy. In fact, I tried to obtain

tickets to tonight's final

performance of the Shadow Queen,

but it was sold out. Can you

imagine anything so

disappointing, sir? Yes.

Several things. So we have a

gunshot to the heart from the

powder burn on the shirt. It was

close range, but no murder

weapon. However, we do have this

glove covered in specks of

blood. The deceased still wears

his gloves, so I'm assuming this

belonged to the shooter. A safe

disguised as a mirror.

Ingenious. An empty safe. Could

it be a robbery, sir? Possible.

Or made to look like one. Let's

start with his partner, Mr.

Kapoor. Gather some men, go to

his house, see what you can find

and then bring him in for

questioning. Oh, and Detective

Fitzroy. Sir? If the man's a

suspect, don't ask him for his

autograph. Yes, sir.

Detective Phelps. I thought you

had some days off. I do. I heard

about the Barrett murder and I

thought you might need me in. I

appreciate the offer, but

there's no need. Enjoy your time

off. With respect, sir,

something this high profile

needs one of your more senior

men. An experienced eye. As I

have said, I don't need any more

assistance on the investigation.

What's she doing here, then?

Oh, Morning, Inspector Blake.

Ms. Scarlett. We seem to have a

communication problem. I have

requested on several occasions

that you do not enter my office

without permission. We heard

about the murder of Abraham

Barrett. The mighty composer.

Dead, you assume? Changing the

subject will somehow distract me

from your unauthorized entry.

Did it? No. Just state your

business and then please allow

me to get on with mine. My

colleague, Mr. Clarence

Pettigrew, is visiting Liverpool

on financial business. And in

his absence, he's left me a list

of unpaid accounts he wishes me

to settle. One of which is my

fee for the Hawkins case. It's

been a month. That is a matter

for the accounts department,

not me. I also heard

investigator on the barracks.

The accounts department's on the

ground floor. It's that door on

the right. Ms. Scarlet,

how nice to see you. Good

morning to you too, Detective

Pittsburgh. How is Mr. Skinner

this morning? On his way to

Wormwood Scrubs as we speak.

Ah, yes, I heard about his

arrest. Bravo, Detective. Oh, I

had very little to do with it,

sir. It was all down to Miss

Scarlett. She practically hand

delivered him. Oh. Well, in that

case. Bravo, Ms. Scarlet. Thank

you, Inspector. Meg. So I gather

from your presence in my office

you have something you wish to

share with me. Detective

Fitzroy. Yes, sir. Mr. Kapoor is

ready in interview room two.

Mr. Kapoor? As in Emile Kapoor?

As in Emil Kapoor, the dead

man's partner? Yes. No. Thank

you, Detective Fitzroy. I will

be along momentarily. Yes, sir.

I heard a rumor that you

searched Mr. Cabor's house.

May I just point out that I'm

between cases at the moment, so

should you need any assistance.

I won't. Then I will bid you.

Katape.

My friend is dead, and I'm

dragged in here and thrown into

a cell for the night. Suspected

of his murder. You're not

dragged anywhere, Mr. Kacour.

Nor were you thrown. I presented

my evidence to you last night,

and you had no plausible

explanation. I did not kill

Abraham. There's nothing more to

say on the matter. You were the

last person to be seen with the

deceased, and witnesses claim

there was an argument between

you. As I explained,

Inspector Abraham and I had some

cross words. Nothing out of the

ordinary. Cross words about

what? My wife was one of the

cast. He was criticizing her

performance like he always did.

There's also the matter of a

white glove matching the one

left at the crime scene found at

your property. So, too, was a

revolver, one which had recently

been fired. The bullets matched

the one found in Mr. Barrett's

body. I have no idea how my

glove got into Abraham's office,

nor can I account for my

revolver. But as I have said

numerous times, I went straight

home after our disagreement,

and I remained there all

evening. To an empty house where

no one can verify your presence.

My wife was out with the rest of

the cast, celebrating the final

curtain. How many times must I

explain that? Have you had any

more thoughts on what might have

been stolen from Mr. Barrett's

safe? No, I have not.

And I find it difficult to think

about anything other than the

fact that my oldest friend is

dead and I have been accused of

killing him. Mr. Kapoor, I have

no choice but to charge you with

the murder of Abraham Barrett.

So you will be taken from here

and held at Newgate Prison

pending further investigation.

Can I help you? I'm looking for

Ms. Scarlet. Have you found her?

My name is Matilda Barrett,

Widow of Abraham Barrett.

Abraham is not yet cold, and I

should be at home in mourning,

but I was asked to find a

private investigator, and it is

a call for help I could not

ignore. By whom? The man accused

of killing my husband. His

partner, Mr. Kapoor. Emile

Kapoor is not just my husband's

partner. He has been my lover

for the past year. Emil protests

his innocence, but they're now

transferring him to Newgate

Prison. Which is why he sent me

an urgent message this morning.

He instructed that I go to the

two largest investigation

agencies in the city. Gill and

Son and Culpeppers. And prior to

coming here, I did just that.

But they both refused to take

the case. If Mr. Gabor has been

transferred to Newgate, the

evidence against him must be

robust. Indeed. It'll be a hard

case to prove him innocent. Do

you believe he is? I know that I

love him. And that if he's

convicted, he will hang.

I will need the full facts,

both Mr. Kapoor's side of the

story and the evidence against

him. But he. He won't be allowed

visitors at Newgate. And even if

he was, women aren't permitted

access to the prison. But I'll

find a way. Mrs. Barrett.

Mr. Fulton. I apologize for the

interruption, but I believe you

know an associate of mine, Mr.

Patrick Nash. It was through

your arrangement that I was able

to visit Mr. Nash here. And I

was hoping for a similar

arrangement to visit another

inmate. Don't remember no Nash.

Cocky Irish, Owes you money.

Very well, perhaps I can inform

the prison governor about your

little sideline. Might that jog

your memory?

I need a thorough understanding

of your case, Mr. Kapor. The

bullet that killed Mr. Barrett

matches the ones found in your

revolver. How do you account for

that? I cannot, nor can I,

square the fact that my glove

was found at the crime scene.

But I did not kill my partner.

I swear it. And I assume the

police are unaware of your

relationship with his wife.

There is something else I did

not share with them. After the

final show last night, Abraham

told me that locked inside his

safe was a manuscript for a new

operetta. But the police

informed me that when they found

Abraham dead, the safe was

unlocked and empty. So someone

had stolen the manuscript. Then

why not tell the police that?

Because the manuscript was for

Abraham's first solo production.

That was the real reason for our

argument. He was dissolving our

partnership. Gloated that it

would be the biggest hit yet.

Some magical story about an

enchanted mirror. The truth is,

Abraham was the real talent in

our partnership. We began as

equals, but increasingly, he

began to do it all. The story

and the composing.

And the more his talent

grew, the more mine seemed to

diminish. Abraham leaving me

behind would be the end of my

career. Quite the motive for

murder, is it not?

So you think whoever stole the

manuscript is the killer? I do.

And I think they're doing their

best to implicate me in the

Thank you for waiting, Ms.

Scarlett. Detective Phelps.

This is no place for a lady.

What on earth could have brought

you here? Research. Research?

Do go on. I've been interviewing

a number of prisoners to better

understand the nature of the

criminal mind. You do know how

to cheer me up, Miss Garlic.

Now, what you really doing here?

I believe I just told you. Good

As senior detective, I'm leading

the investigation into the

Barrett murder, and I have a

strong suspicion you've been

talking to our prime suspect.

So I'm asking, no instructing,

that you share any and all

information about this case.

Have you never heard of client

confidentiality? So the accused

is your client.

Well, now you've shared

something with me. Would you

like me to share something with

you? Not really.

I went to see Mrs. Barrett to

ask about her husband's murder.

She wasn't at home, so I spoke

to her driver instead. He told

me she'd paid a visit this

morning to the lady detective.

So that got me thinking. You

must have spoken to the widow

before you spoke to the man

accused of killing her husband.

Which is all very intriguing.

Are you drunk? You didn't answer

my question. You didn't answer

mine. Perhaps I should ask

Inspector Blake instead.

Very well. I'll find out what's

going on myself.

Have you any idea the distress

that this episode has caused me?

My husband is in prison, which

is exactly where he belongs.

How dare you speak to me in that

manner? I will speak to you in

any manner I choose. Your

husband is a murderer, Violet.

And nothing you say can convince

me otherwise. Come back here

this instant and apologize.

Julius. Julius.

How typical of Emile to hire a

private detective rather than

contact his own wife. Selfish to

the core. I doubt it's even

occurred to him how all this

affects me. I am completely

alone. Well, I'm here,

Mrs. Kapoor, because your

husband pleads his innocence.

And if I can prove that that's

the case, then he can return

home to you. The night of the

murder, you were not at your

house when he returned. As

always, we have a soiree at the

end of the run. Emil was meant

to attend, but he didn't show

up. By the time I got home, the

police were there searching the

house. And they arrested him.

Can you imagine my humiliation

in front of all the neighbors?

That man has ruined my life. He

has let me down time and time

again. I would have

made a magnificent shadow queen.

And yet again, Emile's promises

were never fulfilled. And I was

stuck in the role of lady in

waiting. Always the bridesmaid,

never the bride. The gentleman

you were arguing with seems

convinced of your husband's

guilt. Who cares about Julius?

He's just a talentless fool with

delusions of grandeur. No doubt

he will be insufferable at his

brother's funeral, certain to

make it all about him and his

grief. He's Abraham Barrett's

brother. Not that it did him

much good. Always desperate to

get some of his own writing into

one of the shows, and never was

it good enough. He's only the

violinist in the orchestra

because his brother felt sorry

for him. I heard a rumor, Mrs.

Kapoor. It is not true. I have

always been faithful to Emile.

A rumor about Mr. Barrett

writing a new operetta. A solo

endeavor. Set it. What nonsense.

My husband would never have

stood for it. The. So you're

unaware of a new production

about a magical mirror? A

magical mirror? Is there a

part in it for a leading lady?

I hear you're a private

investigator working for Emil.

Word travels fast. Well, I could

tell you a thing or two about

him and his vile wife.

Amiel is an arrogant snob,

disliked by many,

including his own wife.

You think Violet Capor capable

of murder. Her husband wasn't

the only person she loathed.

She hated my brother, too.

Abraham used to say the only

successful acting that woman

ever did was pretending to fall

in love with Amiel so that he

would marry her. Let me tell you

the type of woman Violet Kapoor

is. While her husband festers in

prison, she carries on

performing in any godforsaken

hole that'll have her. All that

woman cares about is her fame,

nothing else. Certainly not her

Alice watched the white rabbit

as he fumbled with the list,

feeling very curious to see what

the next witness would be like.

So imagine her surprise when the

white rabbit read out at the top

of his shrill little voice the

name Alice.

Right, time for sleep. You have

school tomorrow. I hate it

there. Papa. It'll get better.

I promise. Did Eliza Scarlet

like school? Eliza Scarlet?

Who is she? She came to the

house not so long ago. Remember

that morning you were late for

school? Is she a lady policeman?

No, sweetheart. There's no such

thing. She is a private

detective. Is that allowed? No

more questions. Alice has gone

to bed and so missed you. How do

you know that? Because when I

close the book, Alice goes to

sleep. Tomorrow night, when I

read the next chapter, she will

awaken like magic. You're silly,

Papa. I know.

What are you supposed to make?

Ms. Scarlet, I wonder if I might

have a word. Just that word

involved me sharing information

about the barrack case. Since

apparently Mr. Kapoor is now

your client. I. I don't know

what Detective Phelps told you,

but Phelps doesn't work in the

case. He's on leave. What? One

of my men was delivering a

prisoner to Newgate Prison. He

saw you there. I don't know how

you wrangled your way inside.

Nor do I want to.

Yes, I don't like working from

school. But surely it would

benefit all parties to share

some basic information. Very

well. What do you have? Well,

I've managed to begun my

investigation, but I know of the

evidence against him. Then you

also know that it is Miss

Essential. Yes, but cases are

rarely this open shut.

Shouldn't we consider all lines

of inquiry? There is no Remus

How about this? We each allow

each other one question and see

where we go from there. Very

well. What's your question? I

wish to see the evidence against

Mr. Kapoor. The glove, the

revolver. May I have access to

it? When you were a child, did

you enjoy school? What? That's

my question. I meant a question

about the case. It's my

question, so it should be of my

choosing. I attended

a Convent school. The nuns were

cruel. My classmates even more

so. I hated it there. Thank you,

Miss Scarlet. Good day.

Did you manage to see Emmy? He

mentioned something to me. A new

operetta that your husband had

written by himself. Solo

production. Were you aware of

this? No, I know nothing of it.

Mr. Kapoor believed that the

manuscript for the operetta was

stolen the night that your

husband was murdered. If Emile

says this is true, then who am I

to question it? How did Emile

seem to you? Well, considering

the circumstances, I think

extremely well. Do you think you

might be able to assist him? I

am working on it. Thank you.

I needed to hear something

uplifting. My days are filled

with a constant stream of

mourners coming to the house.

And black everywhere I look. I

must confess, I never understood

the covering of mirrors. The

notion that it stops the

deceased spirit from being

trapped inside is odd, don't you

think? I think we have many

customs that are more than a

little odd. We follow them

without question.

Your note said that you wish to

tell me something. There was a

man outside the house this

morning taking photographs. I

sent the maid out to speak to

him, but he hurried off without

saying a word. I believe he

might be a journalist. Perhaps

he's learned about myself and

Emil. Could you describe this

man? Red hair, red beard, an

unsteady gate, as if he'd been

drinking.

How did you find me? I'm a

private detective. May I come

in? No.

Inspector Blake told me that

you're not working the Barrett

murder case. Why lie to me and

tell me that you were?

Someone matching your

description was seen outside

Mrs. Barrett's house taking

photographs. Either you tell me

what's going on, or I'll inform

Inspector Blake that you're

working this case without his

authorization.

That felt.

Johnny.

My message left a couple of

months back. I took the kids and

went to her sisters. I started

drinking a bit.

Well, a lot.

That's when the landlord turfed

me out and I ended up here.

It's all cosme Blake.

Your wife left you because of

Inspector Blake? After 20 years

in the force, getting that

promotion to detective inspector

was the best day of my life. I

knew it was only temporary, but

I was sure it would end up

permanent. Then he came along.

Blake. When the powers of be

dropped me like a tart's

knickers. That's when I started

drinking. I still don't

understand why you're

investigating the murder of

Abraham Barrett. I know what my

superiors think. That I'm some

useless old sod who should have

retired years ago. So I wanted

to show them what I can do.

There's a vacancy for Inspector

coming up at Bow Street. I

thought solving such a high

profile case might help. I even

got a camera from Scotland Yard

to build up a picture of

Barrett's life, his home, the

theater. But I'd had a skin

full, so now I don't know what I

got in the end. Cap. One of the

actors. His brother,

Julian. Julius.

Waste of time. Maybe they're

right. I am useless.

You'll tell Blake all of this,

I suppose? Give him an excuse to

get rid of me. I will tell no

one. And for what it's worth,

you are respected by your

colleagues. Fitzroy. Maybe,

but he likes everyone. No, not

just Oliver. There are many who

sing your praises. They're not

always complimentary about your

manner, but no one questions

your skill in the job. May I

offer you some advice? Put the

self pity aside. Use off the

whiskey and maybe tidy up a

little. It's not my fault I got

robbed earlier. Robbed? It's no

surprise. The door don't shut

properly. Bloody dumb.

I haven't got much to nick, but

they took the camera and the

photographic plates. I borrowed

them from Scotland Yard. I'll

have to replace them now. God

knows how I'm broke.

Would you like me to make you

another coffee? No. That was

horrible.

What do we have? The victim was

stabbed several times, mostly

from behind, Once through the

neck. The landlady has

identified him as Julius

Barrett, brother of Abraham

Barrett. Anything found on him?

A pocket watch and a wallet.

And inside was this.

Hmm. I gave Julius Barrett my

business card, should anything

else occur to him. Shocking

indeed to hear of his death.

It is of course, possible that

Julius Barrett's death is

unconnected to his brother's.

But I would wager the same

person killed them both. That's

the line of inquiry I believe we

should follow, is that we again,

let us not forget that it was me

who warned that this may not be

an open and shut case after all.

I'm curious, Ms. Scullet. Do you

think any conversation with the

underlying point, if I told you

so, ever ends well?

Is that drinkable? Just about.

Why did you ask me if I enjoyed

being at school? Oh,

my daughter's struggling with

her teachers. Her classmates

seem no kinder. She's never

found it easy to make friends.

I know she misses her mother,

and I try my best to fill the

void. But.

When I was at school, I was

continually made to feel

unimportant, worthless.

But I was lucky.

My father made me feel special.

Sophia has you and from what

I've seen, you are a fine

How long since your wife died?

Three years. It was the

anniversary not so long ago.

I had hoped this year would be

but thankfully my job keeps me

busy. Work is indeed a good

distraction for matters of the

Speaking of work, in light of

the second murder, there is

something I should perhaps share

with you. My client, Mr.

Kapoor, believes there was

something stolen from Abraham

Barrett's safe. It's a

manuscript. It's a new operetta

that he'd written by himself.

He was ending their partnership.

Well, I can understand why

Kapoor wanted to keep that

quiet. It's indeed a strong

motive for murder. Julius

Barrett thought it possible

Violet Kapoor could have

murdered his brother and placed

the blame on her husband.

What if Julius found out that

she was the killer and she got

rid of him too? If Violet

Kapoor is involved in their

murders, how would the

manuscript benefit her? Well,

she's an actress desperate for a

leading role. So she steals the

manuscript, kills Barrett,

plants evidence on her husband,

then plans to produce this new

show under her own name. Little

bit far fetched, don't you

think? These are theatre people,

Inspector Blake. They're not

your everyday folk. Come into

the garden more.

For I am at the gate alone.

For I am at the gate alone.

For I am at the gate.

So long.

Where were you earlier this

evening? Around 8:00'? Clock? I

was here, rehearsing. When was

the last time you saw Julius

Barrett? The other day. I had a

meeting with a producer.

Completely pointless, of course,

because no one will hire me now.

All anyone cares about is the

fact that my husband is a

murderer. What has this got to

do with Julius Barrett? As I

left my meeting, Julius was

waiting to see the producer too.

Always trying to come out from

his brother's shadow, peddling

his own music. Not that anyone

is ever interested. And that was

the last time I saw him. What's

this producer's name?

Have you ever considered the

stage? My dear, you have the

face of an angel. Does she not

inspect her, Mr. Chanel, if you

wouldn't mind keeping to the

point. You were talking about

Mr. Barrett?

Yes. Julius had the misguided

notion that he was as talented

as his brother. He even got his

initials engraved on his violin

case in gold. Jb. As if

anyone would want to steal it.

And you had a meeting with Mr.

Barrett on Tuesday. Those

cheekbones. Those cheekbones

would set fire to the coldest of

hearts. And those eyes. I could

make you a star. That's very

kind of you, Mr. Cinelli, but I.

I have no desire, nor indeed

talent for life in the theater.

When a woman is as beautiful as

you are, my dear, there's no

need for talent. Oh, for God's

sake. We're not here to discuss

Miss Scarlet changing

professions. She asked you a

question. My apologies,

Inspector. I seem to have hit a

nerve. Yes, we had a meeting on

Tuesday. He said to me that he

had written a new operetta. He

kept it locked in his violin

case like some dramatic secret.

As he put out his instrument and

prepared to play, I assumed it

would be dull, as always. But it

wasn't. No, not at all. It was

absolutely astonishing. The best

work he had ever produced. Can

you tell us about his operetta?

It was exquisite. A story of

alchemy, witchery and magic.

The Enchanted Mirror.

Are the two of you courting?

Because I think he likes you.

Idiotic man. I quite agree.

So, the case? Yes, the case. If

Julius Barrett stole his

brother's new manuscript, then

perhaps he was the murderer.

But who killed him? Let's go to

Julius's lodgings, see what we

can find. I should have arrested

him. I would have wiped the

smile off his face. Who?

Chanelli. Impresario. Bloody

imbecile, more like.

Chanelli said that the

manuscript was locked inside a

violin case. Doesn't seem to be

here, though. Must have been

difficult for him, having such a

successful brother. I went to a

lecture once on the nature of

sibling rivalry. I was at the

Royal Institute. The conclusion

was that pursuing the attention

of our parents ensures our

survival. It's a continual fight

to be noticed, to be the best in

the tribe. And I should know.

I'm one of seven. You get along

with your siblings? Yes, when I

don't see them. You,

I would wager. An only child?

How did you guess? Independent,

ambitious, determined, but in

need of a little reassurance now

and again. You have all the

answers, don't you, Inspector

Blake? Well, I have the

advantage of having one just

like you at home. My only wish

is that your father were alive

to advise me. He'd surely tell

you that you have your work cut

out for you,

Ted blake.

I suspect these didn't belong to

Julius Barrett.

In fact, I believe he stole

them. And I know who from.

The camera was stolen from your

lodgings? Yes, sir. And the

photographic plates. What's your

connection to all this? You're

not working on the barrack case?

Detective Phelps and I have

known each other for some time,

and on occasion, he's been kind

enough to help me with my

investigations. For free, I

should add during his time off

work, Detective Phelps helps you

for free? Yes. And on this

occasion, I required

surveillance photographs to

further build up of the key

players in the Barrett murder.

I didn't want to risk being

spotted myself, so I asked

Detective Phelps who, as you

say, it's not working the case.

Is that true? Question is,

why did Julius Barrett steal the

photographic plates? He must

have followed Phelps home and

broken into his lodgings. Why

risk it? What was so important

about them? The developed

photographs, sir. All right,

let's see what we have.

Interesting. Very interesting.

These are actually quite good.

Thanks to you, Detective Phelps,

I think we may have found our

murderer.

Julius and I were talking about

my husband's funeral. We

couldn't agree on the music.

What of it? Well, we also have

this photograph of you, Mrs.

Barrett. If you look closely,

there are gold initials on that

violin case. JB For Julius

Barrett. What are you

insinuating? That you stole his

violin case because you knew he

had your husband's manuscript

locked inside. The manuscript

you told me that you had no

knowledge of. That's why you

were arguing with Julius

Barrett, wasn't it? He knew

you'd stolen it from him and he

wanted it back. I know nothing

of any manuscript. Search the

house if you want. You won't

find it here. We don't need to

search the property, Mrs.

Barrett, because we know exactly

where it is. That Merritt wasn't

here when I previously visited

Inspector Blake. Am I right in

thinking that the police

returned Abraham Barrett's

possessions from his office to

Mrs. Barrett? You're correct,

Ms. Scarlett. And this is just

the mirror from his office? It

is. What are you doing?

I'm in mourning.

The enchanted mirror by abraham

Very well. I lied. I knew about

the manuscript. But it is not a

crime to take back the property

of my deceased husband. No, no.

But it is a crime to murder the

person who stole it from him.

I've murdered no one. Why on

earth would I hire you if I were

the murderer? Yes, you did hire

me. After you informed me that

the city's two biggest

investigation agencies,

Gillan's Son and Culpeppers,

had turned your case down. Both

of which myself and Inspector

Blake visited before coming here

today. And none of them had any

record of even meeting you.

Mrs. Barrett, contrary to Mr.

Kapoor's request, you didn't

even attempt to hire a large

agency with endless resources

because you didn't want him to

be proven innocent. Instead,

you hired Ms. Scarlet here. A

lone female investigator. The

odds stacked against her, but

you underestimated her.

Why did you wish to be rid of

your lover. Because, like my

husband, I discovered he was

also being unfaithful to me. I

was tired of them both. The

great Barrett and Kapoor. Never

was there a pair of more self

serving, grandiose fools. So

your plan was to get rid of them

both. And then what?

When everything calmed down, I

would discover my husband's new

operetta in the mirrored safe.

I would have it produced in his

memory and enjoy the limelight

as his widow. The attention of

the world would be on me.

Attention he never gave me.

Neither gave me. I thought

I was the only one that knew

about the manuscript, but I was

wrong. Julius Barrett also knew.

After I shot Abraham, I heard

footsteps. I hid behind the

velvet drapes in the office and

watched Julius step in. He

looked at Abraham in shock, but

he didn't call for help.

Instead, he went straight to the

safe. He knew where the key was

kept. He unlocked it and took

the manuscript. It's ironic that

the only people my husband

trusted were me and his brother

Julius. And then you killed him

I did love Matilda. But I can't

deny much of the attraction was

because she was married to

Abraham. The man who began as my

friend, but who became my

biggest rival. I suppose it

was my revenge. And how I have

paid the price for it. Abraham

too. What will you do now?

I'm in need of a stiff drink. I

might be able to help you,

Is there no end to your talents,

Miss Scarlet?

Yeah, Cried Alice, quite

forgetting in the flurry of the

moment quite how large she had

grown in the last few moments.

And she jumped up in such a

hurry. My classmates were mean

to me again. Why? What happened?

They don't believe Ms. Scarlet

is real. Who cares what they

think? They are nitwits. You

swore, Papa. Nitwits is not a

swear word. Neither is

nincompoops, which is also what

they are. Eliza Scarlet is real,

isn't she, Papa? She is,

sweetheart, very much so.

Blake, you wanted to see me? I

chased up the accounting

department. This is what you're

owed for the Hawkins

investigation. Thank you.

There was one other thing. Are

you available later? When you

say later, do you mean this

afternoon? This afternoon?

What did you think I meant?

Nothing. I'll be at my office.

Good, because I have a favor to

Sophia, you remember Ms.

Scarlett? Good afternoon,

Sophia. Good afternoon. This is

her office. You see, Ms.

Scarlett is a private detective.

She is real. Goodness, it's

quite a relief to hear that. I

am. Well, I suppose I should

show you up to my office so you

can tell your classmates about

that, too. Although I can't

promise that it's very tidy,