Original subtitles

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Gentlemen. Lovely day for it.

- Doctor. - Hello, Dr. Ogden.

I didn't know you were a football fan.

I couldn't miss the match

that decides which Canadian team will go to the Olympic Games.

What I would give to go to St. Louis.

The World's Fair and the Olympics.

We have everything we need right here in Toronto, son.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Sighs ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows ]

Watch the post.

Cover the po... the post!

[ Crowd cheering ]

Damn it.

These bloody free kicks are the devil, I tell you.

Not to worry, Nobby. They've only been playing five minutes.

Are you not cheering for Toronto?

We're for Galt, of course, since old Nobby and I go way back.

Ever since I first came to Canada

and started playing football.

Teaching the colonials the English game.

You tackled Nobby, then took your fight off the field,

and were mates ever since.

It's nice to know that you listen sometimes.

Your father hasn't changed a bit.

Still as opinionated and stubborn as ever.

I'll say. [ Chuckles ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

NOBBY: On him! On him!

That Semple lad is quite the footballer.

Reminds me of a young Tommy Crawshaw.

JOHN: He seems a bit selfish to me.

Nonsense.

You always have your best player leading the attack.

It makes more sense to me to pass the ball around

and use the whole team, like the Scots do.

You've got a young tactician on your hands, Tom.

The English invented football, not the bloody Scots.

Kick and run. That's football.

Harcourt, pay attention!

[ Crowd groans, whistle blows ]

Oh! Lord love a duck, Gourlay! What was that?

The Galway lads have got to learn to tackle, Nobby.

They won't be able to compete at the Olympic Games like this.

Well, help him up.

Be a gentleman about it, at least.

Enough play-acting. Take my hand.

Get up, man.

He should be coming around by now.

WESLEY: Robert?

Robert!

Inspector.

BRACKENREID: Move aside, lads. Give him some air.

He's dead.

Julia. Sir. What have you?

Robert Semple, star player for the university team,

dropped dead on the field after a hard tackle.

I believe he was stabbed. I discovered a wound.

Stabbed?

Sir, you mentioned he was tackled.

Could the other player have concealed a weapon?

BRACKENREID: This is football, Murdoch, not rugby.

The lad tackled him with his legs.

There was no way that Semple here

was stabbed on the field of play.

I agree. Based on the inflammation,

the wound is at least an hour old, possibly as much as 12.

He was stabbed and got kitted up to play.

I'm impressed.

He should have been in a hospital,

not on a football field.

Will you be to able narrow that time line at all?

I'll do my best, but I can't guarantee it.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Murdoch, meet my oldest Canadian friend.

Nobby. So called because of his knobby knees.

- Detective Murdoch. - Or my last name.

Andrew Nobson.

Sorry to meet you under such unfortunate circumstances.

Indeed.

You're the trainer for the Galt team?

I am.

Did any of your players have contact with Mr. Semple

in the last 12 hours?

Well, we hosted a smoking concert last night

for both teams.

I stayed away so the lads could enjoy themselves fully.

I imagine they would have met Semple then.

Any animosities that you're aware of?

No, no, they're good lads,

focused on nothing but the Olympic Games.

- I can vouch for the lot. - BRACKENREID: Of course.

Don't you worry, Nobby. I'll come find you later.

Right, then, so let's start with the Toronto captain,

- Wesley Patten. - Sir.

WESLEY: Sure, I was with Robert last night.

So was everyone else here.

BRACKENREID: At the Galt football team's smoking concert?

WESLEY: A good 50 people were there.

MURDOCH: What time did you leave?

WESLEY: Around 11:00, just like everyone else.

And Mr. Semple?

That was the last I saw him,

until we all got to the field this morning around 9:00.

And did you notice anything unusual

about Mr. Semple this morning?

He was tired.

Robert's never been a morning person.

Where was Mr. Semple between the hours of 11:00 last night

and 9:00 a.m. this morning?

Esther Fields might know.

She's Robert's sweetheart.

ESTHER: I don't know what happened.

He was fine last night, his typical self.

What time was it when you left Mr. Semple last night?

I suppose it was around 2:00 or so this morning.

We went to a speakeasy after the concert.

I'm ashamed to admit it.

Which speakeasy was this?

The one at College and Brunswick Avenue.

I don't know the name of it. I'd never been before.

Did Mr. Semple also leave when you did?

I doubt it.

He was in fine form,

refusing to walk me home in favor of more drink.

I don't know where he went.

Nor should I like to.

Dr. Ogden.

Look at this.

Thread.

This wound was stitched.

Badly, at that.

The needle marks are quite jagged.

I daresay you would do a much better job.

I'm not so certain.

I've never been much of a seamstress.

NOBBY: It's a bad business, Tom.

Bad for both teams.

What will you do about the match?

It has to be replayed.

The apple doesn't fall too far, eh?

- [ Chuckles ] - Got promise, that one.

[ Grunts]

[ Sighs ]

Can't kick a ball straight to save his life.

He's still young.

He can practice with us while we're here.

I doubt if it'll do any good,

but that's very kind of you nonetheless.

Just what old friends do.

- Oi! - [ Laughs ]

Ah, sirs, I have the soccer team rosters here.

You mean the football team rosters.

Yes, I mean the same, sir.

"Soccer" is a term nicknamed by some Oxford chap.

Apparently, it means "association,"

as in association football.

Some Toronto lad was using the term.

It seems to be catching on.

I will not have you copying some toffee-nosed prat

repeating another toffee-nosed prat.

The sport is called football, Crabtree, plain and simple.

Sir, should the nickname not be adopted?

We already have another sport known as football.

It is somewhat confusing.

Should a sport wherein the players

pick up the ball in their hands and run down the field

be called football, or should it be the sport

wherein the players kick a ball with their feet?

Mm.

MURDOCH: George, why don't you walk us through

Robert Semple's final hours?

Sir, gladly. Um...

At 8:00 p.m., he arrived with his teammates

at the town hall for the smoking concert.

He stayed there for the duration, until 11:00.

He didn't leave at all?

Nobody saw him leave, sir. And I don't doubt it.

What a show.

There was a boxing match, not one, but two strong men,

champagne, a full steak dinner.

I wonder at the wisdom of a heavy meal and alcohol

the night before an important sporting event.

A night out is a good way to unwind, Murdoch.

Keeps the body limber.

It's why the English are the best footballers in the world.

- Carry on, George. - CRABTREE: Right.

Uh, after the smoking concert broke up at 11:00,

Mr. Semple and a few friends carried on to a speakeasy

at College Street and Brunswick Avenue.

The lads are searching there now.

- Where did Semple go next? - Well, we don't know, sir.

Nobody saw hide nor hair of him after 2:00 a.m.

until he showed up at the field this morning.

Cause of death was shock due to rupture of the liver.

Do we know how that happened?

DR. OGDEN: It appears the liver was nicked by the knife,

which itself would not have been fatal.

But when he collided with the Galt player,

I believe the nick tore open and the liver ruptured.

REBECCA: His body went into arrest, stopping his heart.

I won't be telling that

to the young Galt player that tackled him.

Was he not in pain?

Given the amount of alcohol in his blood,

he was likely inebriated enough to dull the pain significantly.

BRACKENREID: What about the weapon?

The weapon appears to be an average dinner knife.

One used to eat a steak dinner, for example?

That would be consistent with his injuries, yes.

DR. OGDEN: As for when the wound was inflicted,

I believe Miss James and I did rather well.

The wound was still in hemostasis

and appeared fairly new, meaning it occurred within 12 hours.

There is some discoloration,

which can begin four to six hours

after the bruise first appears.

Combine that with the rate of inflammation

and the beginnings of scabbing and...

Perhaps you might cut to Hecuba, Miss James.

Yes, yes. Of course, Inspector.

We believe Mr. Semple was stabbed

six to eight hours before his death.

So the stabbing occurred between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m.,

likely with the knife that was stolen from the town hall.

Also, he may have seen a friend after the stabbing.

How's that?

We found remnants of thread inside the wound

and puncture marks consistent with a sewing needle.

But the stitching was not done by a professional.

Mr. Semple tried to stitch himself up?

I highly doubt it.

BRACKENREID: So he got a friend to help him.

But why not report it? Why pretend it never happened?

He didn't want anyone to know that he'd been attacked.

Perhaps out of pride.

Or he wished to keep secret the reason for the attack

out of shame or guilt.

BRACKENREID: Possibly.

Either way, it would have cost him his chance at glory.

No athlete worth his salt would want to miss a shot

at the Olympic Games, no matter what the cost.

- What have you, George? - Ah, sirs.

Uh, I inquired at the town hall.

They say catering is missing a knife,

but that's not entirely uncommon after such a large function.

In fact, they engrave the hilts of their knives with "H&L"

in order to discourage such theft.

Tell the lads to add that to their search.

Sir, I will do, but as of yet,

no knife of any sort has been found.

This is a list of all those who accompanied the victim

to the speakeasy after the smoking concert?

That's right, sir.

Esther Fields, Harriet Harcourt,

Leland Harcourt, and Jack Gourlay.

The last two are Galt players. Are you certain?

Quite certain, sir. They've said as much.

Um, Esther Fields is the victim's sweetheart.

Harriet Harcourt is Miss Fields' bosom friend.

Leland Harcourt is a Galt player,

also Harriet Harcourt's brother.

- Harriet Harcourt is from Galt. - CRABTREE: That's right, sir.

And, of course, Jack Gourlay is Galt's team captain.

Fine player, too.

He is also Harriet Harcourt's fiancé.

- It's rather a tangled web. - MURDOCH: Indeed.

They are all connected to each other,

but only Miss Fields is connected to the victim.

BRACKENREID: What motive could the Galt lads have

against a Toronto player?

Well, sir, Robert Semple was Toronto's best player.

Take him out, and you're off to the Olympic Games.

Exactly.

But if I'm Robert Semple

and I've been stabbed by an opponent, I report it.

Galt's disqualified, and I'm off to the Olympic Games.

That didn't happen,

so it had to be one of the lads on his own team.

But no Toronto players were with the victim at that late hour.

And there's our conundrum, Murdoch.

Crabtree, I want you to search

every nook and cranny of that speakeasy.

Find the knife.

Murdoch, talk to the ladies.

I'll have a word with the Galt players.

[ Indistinct talking ]

BRACKENREID: Mr. Harcourt.

What time did you leave the speakeasy last night?

About 1:00, I think.

I walked my sister home, then went back to my rooms.

How well did you know the deceased?

I only met Semple last night.

Tom, so glad you're here.

Just a moment, Nobby.

Did you notice anything unusual?

Just his general demeanor was not very pleasant.

Though I gather that wasn't particularly unusual.

I don't know what else I can tell you.

Thank you. Rejoin the practice.

I'll talk to Gourlay next.

Of course, but, Tom, while I have you here,

I could really use your help with the lads' tackling.

- I wish I could, Nobby. - Just a quick demonstration.

You always were the best.

You had it down to a science.

An art, more like.

Oh, go on, then.

I can spare you a couple of minutes.

Right then, lads, be prepared to learn the art

of the Brackenreid slide tackle!

HARRIET: I knew Robert Semple because of Esther.

I don't know why she stayed with him.

Why do you say that, Miss Harcourt?

He wasn't very attentive to her.

Ah.

Tell me about last night, as you remember it.

There isn't much to tell.

I only went to the smoking concert

because Jack and Leland are in town.

Your brother and your fiancé.

Yes.

Leland warned me about Toronto.

But I so wanted to live here.

Jack was so good to wait to marry

until I finished my studies.

But Leland was right.

It's too dangerous here for a Galt girl.

Where did you go after the smoking concert?

I walked with them to the speakeasy, but I was tired.

I didn't even go inside.

Did you see anything unusual?

Anyone angry with Mr. Semple?

Esther was.

But I don't know if that counts as unusual.

It's a lost cause, Nobby.

You're better off not tackling at all.

Blasted free kicks.

I wish we could just brick up the bloody net.

Good Lord. It's that simple.

Lads.

Six of you, shoulder to shoulder.

Come on.

Why are we making a wall of men?

It's not a wall.

It's a barricade against free kicks, your team weakness.

This must be against the laws of the game.

The opposing players must stand

at least six yards away from the ball during a free kick.

Yes, but it doesn't say how many opposing players.

Why has no one thought of this before?

Because it's the height of foolishness.

I don't want a ball aimed at my face.

Or my head.

It takes an hour to brilliantine my hair into place.

Tom, perhaps this is a bit much. I can't ask the lads

to put themselves in harm's way like this.

I can't believe I'm hearing this.

The fabled Galt Porridge-Eating Invincibles

scared of a little old football?

Hardly the attitude of Olympic champions.

I'll show you the attitude of a champion.

John Brackenreid!

Me?

Get in the barricade.

Right, lads. Flank him either side.

But, Father...

Tom.

Ready?

[ Groans ]

Good Lord, are you all right?

BRACKENREID: 'Course he's all right. Get up, John.

I don't believe it. It worked!

- Your barricade worked, Tom. - Of course it worked.

Now you can give away all the free kicks you like.

Right. My work here is done.

Better get back to some real work.

Miss Fields, you neglected to mention

that you had an argument with Mr. Semple last night.

There was nothing to mention.

It's somewhat of a daily thing.

Or was, I suppose.

What was the argument about?

Just his usual behavior.

He refused to walk me home, like I told you.

He was too busy drinking and showing off.

Showing off for whom?

Jack Gourlay.

Harriet's fiancé.

As much of a drunken lout as the rest of them.

JACK: I think Semple and I parted ways about 2:30,

though I wouldn't swear to it.

MURDOCH: And that was the last you saw of him

until this morning.

JACK: Right. Or perhaps not.

BRACKENREID: Explain, Mr. Gourlay.

JACK: After I left the speakeasy,

I got a bit turned around.

I managed to find my way back there, and I saw someone,

who I think was Semple, stumbling out of a laneway.

I called out, but he didn't turn around.

Maybe it wasn't him.

MURDOCH: What laneway was this?

Outside the speakeasy?

I don't know. It's my first time to Toronto.

Uh, I think I saw something

that looked like an over-large thimble.

You could ask Wesley.

Wesley Patten, the Toronto captain?

Well, yes, he's the one that took us to the speakeasy

in the first place.

[ Indistinct talking ]

Mr. Patten, a moment.

WESLEY: Why is Galt practicing so much with the ball?

Everyone knows it lessens the hunger for it come game day.

Mr. Patten,

football is the least of your worries at the moment.

You lied to me.

You were at the speakeasy with Robert Semple.

Right, then, off to the station house.

All right. Yes, I lied.

If it gets back to the university

that I went to an illegal establishment,

I'll be kicked off the team.

Then why did you go in the first place?

I had to keep an eye on Robert.

Well, you didn't do a very good job of it.

WESLEY: Don't think I don't know that.

I wouldn't normally leave him in that state.

But we had a big match in a few hours, and I needed sleep.

BRACKENREID: What time did you leave?

Just before 2:00 a.m.

And that's the last you saw of Mr. Semple?

WESLEY: Yes.

That's the truth. I swear it.

MURDOCH: Sir.

BRACKENREID: Ah, Murdoch.

I finally found good use for your chalkboard.

- Tactics. - Tactics.

Formations, Murdoch, formations.

See, this is the standard 2-3-5, the pyramid formation.

But on this side is my invention.

The 4-4-2.

Oh.

BRACKENREID: You see, the more I watch football, Murdoch,

the more I've come to realize

the importance of a good defense.

You can't win football games

if you're constantly letting goals in.

I suppose so, but if you bolster your defense

at the expense of your offense,

you won't be scoring many goals, either.

I know, I know. The 2-3-5 does make more sense.

Oh, I just can't think anymore.

So, where are we at?

Well, sir, Jack Gourlay

saw someone stumbling out into the laneway.

BRACKENREID: Well, that could have been Semple.

Or it could have been his attacker.

If Semple was stabbed outside the speakeasy,

we would surely have found evidence of it by now.

Well, sir, I don't believe he was stabbed

outside of the speakeasy, but somewhere nearby.

An oversized thimble, just as Jack Gourlay described it.

Good work, Murdoch.

And only a block away from the speakeasy.

We may yet find our crime scene.

- BRACKENREID: Murdoch. - MURDOCH: Ah.

A blood trail.

BRACKENREID: Two trails, it seems.

One made by the victim

and the other by his attacker, presumably.

Which one should we follow first?

Sir, why don't you take that direction?

What will you do?

How will you follow the trail without the blue light?

Ultraviolet, sir, and you're correct.

But I anticipated that we'd have difficulty, so I brought two.

Ah.

[ Door opens ]

[ Knock on door ]

- Mr. Patten? - Detective.

Tom!

What am I doing here, Tom?

You know what you're doing here, Nobby.

The blood trail led right to your hotel.

I don't know anything about it.

I wasn't even out the night that poor lad was stabbed.

You know it's the truth.

Are all of your players staying at the same hotel with you?

No. They're all billeted.

Look, I can see what you're thinking.

It's far too great a coincidence

that the victim's blood ended up on the steps of my hotel.

That's the sum of it, yes.

Come now, Tom.

You've known me for years.

- You know the type of man I am. - Nobby...

And you know I've no time

for anything other than preparing my team

for the biggest competition of their lives.

It's not every day the Olympic Games come calling.

Murdoch.

Sir, perhaps Mr. Nobson is telling the truth.

He's involved in some way, whether he knows it or not.

I've sent George to search along both blood trails

for the murder weapon.

What if someone's trying to lay blame

on Nobby or the Galt team in general?

Perhaps we should speak with the person

at the end of the other blood trail.

- The Toronto captain. - Wesley Patten.

BRACKENREID: We found Robert Semple's blood

in a laneway behind the speakeasy.

Two blood trails diverged from that laneway.

One went to Mr. Nobson's hotel, the other to your residence.

I can explain that.

At least, I can explain half of it.

Please.

I did leave the speakeasy earlier than Robert,

like I told you.

I just didn't tell you what happened afterwards.

Which makes it the second time you've lied to us

in as many conversations.

Talk. The truth this time.

Maybe an hour after I got home, around 3:00,

Robert showed up at my door, bleeding.

Why didn't you go fetch the doctor?

He wouldn't let me. If we'd gone to hospital,

he wouldn't have been able to play the match.

And I'm ashamed to say we needed him.

And the cut looked small enough.

So you sewed it shut.

I insisted.

In the morning, he wasn't any worse for wear

than after any other night out.

He really did seem fine.

You don't seem to be taking his death very hard.

It's a terrible thing to say,

but I'm almost relieved he's gone.

MURDOCH: Why do you say that?

The university expects us

to conduct ourselves like gentlemen.

Robert was no gentleman.

I was tired of my future on the team being tied up with his.

Never mind how he treated poor Esther.

BRACKENREID: How did he treat her?

A rumor went around the smoking concert

that he'd been unfaithful.

MURDOCH: Just a rumor?

I doubt it, seeing as it was spread about by Robert himself.

Why did you put up with him?

You're a pleasant young thing.

Surely you could attract a better beau.

I wouldn't expect a man to understand a woman's burdens.

You were aware of his indiscretions, then?

Unfortunately.

MURDOCH: That is the real reason you were angry at Mr. Semple.

You heard the rumor of his infidelity

at the smoking concert?

BRACKENREID: So you took a knife from the dinner,

waited till everyone left, and then stabbed him in revenge.

Of course not!

I was angry, yes, but I was more ashamed.

I confronted him, I admit it, In front of everyone.

And you know what he did?

The bastard laughed.

He laughed at me.

I might have dismissed it as one of Robert's cruel jokes

except for her behavior toward me the past few weeks.

Distant. Apologetic.

Whose behavior?

Surely you know.

It's been all over the university.

Harriet Harcourt.

[ Gasps I Detective.

Inspector.

My brother is waiting for me at the field.

Oh, allow us to escort you.

How is the investigation going?

We're proceeding.

Have you a suspect in mind?

We've learned of certain events recently

that have narrowed our search considerably.

Which is why we need to speak to you.

I'm sure I can't help you.

Did you have an affair with Robert Semple?

[ Sobbing ]

Perhaps a bit direct, sir.

Got a result, though.

Certainly seemed like a yes to me.

In that case, no one had more motive

than the last man that was with Semple... Jack Gourlay.

Beware a man cuckolded.

Yes, sir.

Ohh.

Just how bad is a constable's salary

that he's forced to forage for his lunch in such a manner?

[ Chuckles ] Miss James.

What a pleasant surprise,

although not for you, considering the state I'm in.

What are you doing?

I am looking for the murder weapon.

Detective Murdoch discovered a trail of blood,

and I'm to follow the route,

checking every garbage can and sewer hole.

Perhaps I can help.

I'm used to having my arms elbow-deep

in arguably worse conditions.

And I know the kind of knife you're looking for.

Both excellent points, Miss James.

Consider yourself deputized.

Where should I begin?

Julia.

William.

What are you doing here?

Mr. Nobson asked me if I could recommend a doctor

who could help out with the boys.

So I offered my services.

I fear you'll be overworked.

I tell you, William, the way these boys abuse their bodies,

they should have a doctor following them

everywhere they go.

Indeed.

- [ Ball thudding ] - NOBBY: Good.

BRACKENREID: Nobby.

Tom, I'm in the middle of practice.

- I've come to see Mr. Gourlay. - Gourlay.

The lads should go easy on practicing the barricade.

You don't want any injuries before for the match.

I can manage my team, thank you.

Put John in the middle. John, get yourself up here.

Let him take the brunt of it.

Lads, practice aiming your kicks at John.

Oh!

I wish I could, Father, but I've hurt my ankle.

I can barely stand.

[ Sighs ]

Go and see Dr. Ogden on the sidelines.

Mr. Gourlay, you're coming with me.

I have been jealous of Harriet, I admit.

She's been in the city, having all sorts of adventures.

I've been working at my father's dry goods store in Galt.

You must have been looking forward to this trip.

Oh, yes. The match, the smoking concert.

Most of all, Harriet.

Yes, your visit with Miss Harcourt

hasn't gone exactly as you expected.

Harriet's been so cold, so odd.

She won't talk to me. She won't touch me.

She didn't even want to go to the smoking concert.

She needn't have bothered.

She was a wet blanket all evening.

You must have heard the rumor, Semple and your fiancée.

It's a pack of lies. I said so to his face.

He was no Toronto gentleman. He wouldn't even apologize.

BRACKENREID: It made you angry.

I couldn't just let it go.

Though I'm ashamed of what happened

on the field the next day.

The tackle, you mean. It was a hard one.

Unsporting.

And I'd already made my feelings known the night before.

The two of you fought at the speakeasy?

We were both so drunk,

neither of us managed to land a single blow.

We agreed to let the match settle our grievances.

Why did you leave all of this out of your earlier account?

I'm not normally one to stoop to a barroom brawl.

I'm the captain of the Galt football team.

I may well soon be an Olympian.

It's no light responsibility.

JOHN: It's my left ankle.

You were limping with your right.

John, do you not want to play?

I do want to play, just not my father's way.

But a Brackenreid plays like a true Englishman.

A Brackenreid tackles at the knees.

A Brackenreid brawls on the field and off.

Surely there can be more than one kind of Brackenreid.

Not according to my father. [ Chuckles ]

Your father is a fair man, if a little pigheaded at times.

But you're old enough to be your own man, John.

But in the meantime,

I'll wrap your foot and keep up your pretense.

At least until you can build up

a little of that infamous Brackenreid courage.

I admit I don't know much about football,

but it does look quite fun.

Oh, Miss James, I'm sure you would excel.

Surely, there is a ladies' team at the university.

I don't think I'd be welcome.

In that case, let's you and I have a go right now.

I couldn't.

There you are. Come on. Nobody's watching.

REBECCA: Constable Crabtree.

That looks like blood.

BRACKENREID: Crabtree.

Sir, there are no fingermarks on the knife.

It's been thoroughly wiped cleaned.

- Is that the murder weapon? - Yes, sir.

Rebecca James confirmed as much,

as does the engraving on the hilt.

Where was it found?

Outside Andrew Nobson's hotel, Sir.

Oh. So we're back to Nobby.

Or at least someone wants us to think it's Nobby.

Sir, there's one more piece of evidence you should see.

AN. Andrew Nobson.

Protest, Nobby.

Tell me it's not yours. Tell me we're wrong.

Look, I'm on your side,

but I need you to speak up in your defense.

Bloody hell, Andrew!

All our years friendship come to this?

I'm sorry, Tom.

Not as sorry as I am.

[ Door opens ]

[ Door closes ]

Crabtree searched Nobby's room.

His boots were caked with grass and dirt but no trace of blood.

He couldn't have been the one who made the blood trail.

His guilt does seem unlikely. But until he speaks to us...

He's protecting someone.

I can't see any other reason for his silence.

Then we should re-examine the Galt players,

Jack Gourlay and Leland Harcourt.

Gourlay has motive,

seeing as his fiancée was the one carrying on with the victim.

But without Nobby's cooperation, we have nothing on him.

Well, if Mr. Nobson won't speak to us,

perhaps Miss Harcourt will.

The last time we tried with her, she burst into tears.

Ask the good doctor to lend you a hand.

MURDOCH: These past few days must have been difficult,

having to mourn the loss of a lover in secret.

He wasn't my lover. I hated him.

Mr. Semple told your fiancé of a dalliance the two of you shared.

He told Jack that?

MURDOCH: Was it true?

I can't deny it. But it only happened once.

A terrible mistake.

Jack didn't kill Robert. I know it.

Your faith in him is admirable, but...

I know it because I did it.

I killed Robert Semple.

Miss Harcourt, do you realize what you're saying?

I do.

Robert attacked me.

I stabbed him to defend myself.

Where did this happen?

In a laneway.

And then you went to the speakeasy?

Or returned to the speakeasy?

Yes. Or no.

It was before the speakeasy.

Or after. Um, I don't recall.

Take your time. Start at the beginning.

It's all a blur.

He attacked me. I stabbed him. I went home.

And what did you do with the knife?

I left it there in the laneway.

Miss Harcourt, did you visit Mr. Nobson that evening?

No. Of course not.

I stabbed Robert.

No one else knew anything about it.

I am the only guilty one.

Miss Harcourt, I imagine you could use a cup of tea.

Please, excuse me.

[ Door opens ]

Miss Harcourt, your description of the incident

doesn't match the evidence.

I'm telling you, I did it.

Isn't that enough?

You didn't stab Robert Semple.

But he did attack you, didn't he?

But perhaps not on the night in question.

You think by taking the blame, you'll feel better.

But in my experience, it's only the truth that brings you peace.

Harriet, whatever you tell me, I will believe you.

One evening, I was walking home from class.

I ran into Robert.

He was going to see Esther, he said,

and would walk me to our residence.

I agreed. Why wouldn't I?

He said he needed to stop by his room.

I was going to wait outside,

but he offered to sneak me past the Don.

It was cold, and I knew him.

He took advantage of you in his room.

It was all my fault.

I went in willingly.

I put myself in that position.

I am entirely to blame.

You told no one?

I tried to pretend it didn't happen.

Jack would have left me.

My family would have been disgraced.

But Robert...

Robert wouldn't let me forget.

Which is why you didn't want to go to the smoking concert

or join your friends at the speakeasy.

I thought it would happen again.

You took a knife from the dinner to protect yourself.

I would have used it.

But you didn't.

Mr. Gourlay did.

No. I swear, Jack had nothing to do with this.

Oh, Harriet.

You've been protecting your brother.

[ Crying]

My sister was so frightened, she was walking around with a knife.

You could have come to the police.

LELAND: And pit her word against the great Robert Semple,

hero of the university football team?

He would have said she consented,

and the matter would have disappeared.

You walked your sister home. That much is true.

LELAND: Yes.

She was so upset.

I had to pry the knife out of her hand.

MURDOCH: You then went to find Robert Semple.

Hey, Semple!

LELAND: I told him to leave Harriet alone.

I'm talking to you.

MURDOCH: He refused.

- And? - You leave her alone.

LELAND: He said...

All girls play the innocent. It's just for show.

[ Grunts]

LELAND: One moment, the knife was in my hand.

The next, it was sticking in Robert.

You then ran to Mr. Nobson's for help.

He told me to go home, get my rest for the game.

It would all be all right.

Then I saw Robert on the field the next morning.

I thought maybe I had dreamt the whole thing.

I've let everyone down, haven't I?

[ Knock on door, door opens ]

MAN: Go, go!

Good, lads!

Very good.

That's it.

That's it, Galt.

Leland is a good lad.

He just made a bad mistake.

As did you.

I know, Tom, and I'm prepared to pay for it.

BRACKENREID: Why do you only have 10 men on the field?

We didn't travel with any substitutes.

We have to play a man short.

John, get yourself up here.

He may only be a young man, but he's a man nonetheless.

You're in, lad. Halfback.

- No. - What?

JOHN: I said no.

I won't play unless I can play my way.

What are you on about?

I don't tackle, and I don't run straight for the net.

I won't kick long balls.

I will pass and use my teammates like the Scots,

'cause that's the way I play.

Bloody hell.

I may not be able to kick a ball straight, but I'm a good player,

and I know the game as well as anyone.

And I'm a Brackenreid.

Except I'm John Brackenreid,

and there is room for more than one kind of Brackenreid.

No, son, you're wrong.

There is only one kind of Brackenreid.

The one who speaks his mind.

Now, get out there and pass your way to the Olympic bloody Games.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

[ Whistle blows, crowd cheers ]

Got it. You got it.

MAN: Nice one!

BRACKENREID: Tackle him. Tackle him.

[ Whistle blows, crowd cheers ]

One minute to go.

- Foul, referee! - Ref!

[ Whistle blows ]

Yes!

NOBBY: This is it. This is it. This is our moment.

Gourlay, take the kick.

What are they doing?

Good Lord, Tom, they're copying our barricade!

We should have seen this coming.

NOBBY: This is our last chance to take the game.

What are we going to do?

John should take the kick.

But he can't kick a straight ball to save his life.

Exactly.

[ Both chuckle ]

John Brackenreid, take the kick!

Huh?

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Crowd cheering, whistle blows ]

We won! We won!

We're going to the Olympic bloody Games!

You'll deserve any medal they win

as if you were right there with them.

McNabb.

Thank you, Tom.

Being here for this match means the world to me.

It's what old friends do.

The lads will be needing a firm hand in St. Louis.

I wouldn't trust my team to anyone else.

Good luck.

Thomas C. Brackenreid, Olympian.

I'll only be gone a couple of weeks.

Be sure to write us the results, sir.

Write? I'll be telegraphing.

Sod the long distance.

How often will I get to manage a team at the Olympic Games?

CRABTREE: Too right, sir.

And if you have a chance to pick up some of that fairy floss,

I'd be much obliged.

I'll see what I can do, Crabtree.

Now, Murdoch, the payroll is in the safe.

Mark the ledger exactly as I do.

Also, the shed needs clearing out.

I've left a long list of duties on my desk.

We'll try to manage, sir.

Oh, and be sure to visit the electrical pavilion at the fair.

I understand they have a new

plug and wall socket installation.

I'll be sure to make it my first port of call, Murdoch.

Right. Oh. And these are from Dr. Ogden.

Bandages and a liniment of her own creation

for the players' aches and pains.

That's very kind of her. Please thank her for me.

Ready, Father? We don't want to miss the train.

They've decorated a special car just for the team

with red-and-white bunting and streamers

and a sign telling everyone that the Galt football team

is going to the Olympic Games.

Well, let's get going, then.

Ah, George Crabtree spies an open Rebecca James.

Not bad, Miss James, for a lady.

Who knows, Inspector?

Maybe one day there'll be a team of Canadian women

vying for Olympic gold.

[ Chuckles ] That'll be the day.

Come on, John. Let's go get a medal.