All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S10E16.1080p.BluRay.x264-YELLOWBiRD

[ Door opens ]

Oh.

I presume this is it.

GRANDY: Oh, yes.
We're coming onto her now.

I got my floors all mixed up,
is all.

MURDOCH:
When did you discover her?

Uh, this morning.

She's been in here
quite some time, Mr. Grandy.

Do you know how many buildings
I look in on, son?

You expect me to scour
every floor every day?

I'll take it from here.

If I need you,
I'll come find you.

GRANDY: Yeah.

All these stairs...

Who's there?

LOVECRAFT:
That is mine.

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

Identify yourself.

Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

What are you doing here?

LOVECRAFT:
Visiting her, of course.

Hello, my dear.

Do not touch.

LOVECRAFT:
I enjoy drawing.

MURDOCH:
I see that.

LOVECRAFT:
Reading, as well.

- Gothic stories, especially.
- Hmm.

Did you know her?

Do you enjoy reading?

Yes.

The girl, Mr. Lovecraft.

What do you enjoy reading?

Anything from science
periodicals to Shakespeare.

Now, young man,
did you know the deceased?

Yes.

What is her name?

I don't know.

Then how is it
that you know her?

From drawing her.

Once she was already dead?

You never met her
prior to her death?

No.
We became close since.

And I believe
that we will meet again.

How long
have you been drawing her?

I couldn't say.

Time is not of consequence.

In this instance,
I'm afraid it is.

A few weeks, I suppose.

And how did
you come to find her?

A boy told me of her.

What is his name?

Clinton Hartley.

I can tell you
where to find him if you'd like.

Yes, please.

May I continue to draw her?

Decomposition
was helped along by rats,

making identification
impossible.

But I can say
with some certainty

that she was young...
15 or 16 perhaps.

And the cause of death?

Asphyxiation.

I believe she was smothered
with the handkerchief

you found at the scene.

I found matching particles
in her lungs.

- So, no wounds, then?
- No.

I can't explain the blood
on the handkerchief

or on her clothes.

Only to say that it wasn't hers.

It belonged to her assailant?

Also, the handkerchief
was doused with chloroform.

She would have gone painlessly.

A compassionate killing.

So she could have known
her killer.

She didn't arrive
with this pendant, did she?

No.
Only the clothes that remained.

MURDOCH:
And now the pendant's gone.

It could have been a figment
of Mr. Lovecraft's imagination.

Yet why include it
in the early drawings

and not in later ones?

Unless the killer
returned to retrieve it.

Mr. Hartley.

How do you know Mr. Lovecraft?

He sought me out
after discovering I'd borrowed

his favorite book
from the library...

Edgar Allan Poe's
"The Masque of the Red Death."

Have you read it?

No.

And when was this?

Perhaps a month ago.

So, the two of you
became friends.

Yes.
We're rather like-minded.

Don't you think?

Although I admit I'm not quite
as drawn to death as Howard.

And yet you informed him

of the body you found
in the abandoned building.

When did you do that?

Shortly after we met.

Four weeks ago.

And how is it
that you found this body?

I was scouring for valuables.

Yes.

Is this one of the valuables
that you found?

No.

I've never seen that before.

Describe for me what the body
looked like when you found it.

CLINTON:
I can't.

I only got close enough
to make out

that it was a girl by the dress.

The... The stench
kept me at a distance.

Surely your parents
taught you to inform the police

when you found such a thing.

I don't speak with my parents.

What an odd-looking group
of youths, George.

Hmm.

[ Snoring ]

[ Gasps, sighs ]

Margaret.
What are you doing here?

Verna Jones is making me
lead the discussion

on this dreadful "Dracula" book
for our reading club.

- So what?
- Thomas, this book is grotesque!

It's positively
nightmare-inducing!

Verna's just doing it
to spite me.

Who cares about Verna Jones?
Pick a different book, then.

What?
And let Verna win?

What do you want me
to do about it?

MARGARET: I would like you
to escort me to the morgue

to speak to Dr. Ogden.

She's a learned woman, after
all, and deals in the macabre.

Talk to her yourself, Margaret.

- I'm working.
- Work?

You're just sitting there
like a lump!

Yes, at work.

[ Sighs]

Why do you live with your aunt,
Mr. Lovecraft?

My father
died from mental exhaustion

after years in an insane asylum.

I'm sorry to hear that.

And your mother?

She now resides in
the same asylum in Providence.

Good Lord.

That's not to say
that your destiny is determined.

Or perhaps it is.

Oh, hello.

- Hello, Mrs. Brackenreid.
- Hello.

The inspector's wife.

Lovely lady.

We have a common interest.

Oh?
What's that?

Blood.
Salvation.

MARGARET: [ Chuckles ]

I really must be going,
young man.

Your hands.

These fingers.

Mr. Lovecraft, your aunt
will be here very soon.

Thank you, Mrs. Brackenreid.

Mrs. Brackenreid.

No one but a woman
can help a man

when he's
in trouble of the heart.

BRACKENREID: What was
this Clinton Hartley lad

doing in an abandoned building?

Scavenging for valuables,
he claims.

I thought he was rich.

Rebelling
against his father's wealth?

Rebelling against wealth?
What the matter with...

Bloody hell.

I don't want the others
to know I'm speaking with you.

All right.

Have a seat.

BRACKENREID: How did
you get in here, young lady?

I know the pendant,
from the newspaper.

What was her name?

Ellen Woods.

How did she die?

And your name?

Sarah Glass.

Miss Glass, is this Ellen Woods?

Looks like Howard's drawings.

You know Mr. Lovecraft?

SARAH: He's the newest member
in our group.

He draws such loving portraits.

Was Miss Woods
a member of this group?

SARAH:
For a short while.

But nobody cared for her.

BRACKENREID:
Why is that?

No reason exactly.

Just that everyone
seemed to start fighting

when lan brought her in.

Ian?

Ian Blair.

Ellen was a cousin of his
from Oshawa.

New to Toronto.

He felt obliged to welcome her,
I suppose.

But she didn't fit in?

Our interests
aren't shared by most.

What interests are those?

Death.

Making your parents proud,
are you?

We don't care what our parents
or anyone else thinks of us.

Surely you found it strange

when Miss Woods
suddenly disappeared.

We thought
she went back to Oshawa,

as she often threatened whenever
anyone was hard on her...

Clinton, especially.

Thank you, Miss Glass.

If we have further questions,
we'll contact you.

If Miss Woods
was a member of their group

and Miss Glass recognized her
from the pendant and drawings...

Surely Clinton Hartley did,
as well.

Then he lied to us.
Bring him back in.

Yes, sir.

MARGARET: Hello?

- [ Clatter ]
- [ Gasps ] Is anybody there?!

Hello?

Julia?

- Aah!
- [ Gasps ]

Margaret.
What are you doing here?

Oh, I, uh...

I wanted to discuss
something with you.

What is it?

"Dracula."

The book.
For my... my reading club.

You're shaking like a leaf.

- Is that my scalpel?
- Oh.

I thought I heard something
behind that door.

That's the cold storage.

Unless the dead
have come back to life,

I assure you
there's no one back there.

Oh, I was certain
I heard something.

Oh, look.

You see?

[ Screams ]

What on earth are
you doing in here?! Get out!

I just wanted to see her again.

- [ Door closes ]
- Stay put!

I'm calling the constables.

You're bleeding.

[ Door opens ]

"Do you believe in destiny?

That even the powers of time can
be altered for a single purpose?

That the luckiest man
who walks this earth

is the one
who finds true love?"

- [ Switch clicks ]
- Young man, get up!

- Get up!
- Uh...

DR. OGDEN: Get out.
Out.

Keep moving!

Get out!

Lurking around the bloody morgue
like a lunatic.

What's wrong with him?

MURDOCH: He doesn't seem
to see anything wrong

with his behavior,
no matter how misguided.

BRACKENREID: Someone needs
to instill some principles.

A spell in the Army would
sort him out quickly enough.

CRABTREE:
Or perhaps, sirs,

a more gentle form of guidance
might benefit the young man.

What do you know about children?

Well, I was one.

Still bloody are half the time.

MURDOCH:
So, what do we do with him?

We don't have enough
to arrest him,

and I don't feel comfortable
letting him go.

Well, we can't trust his aunt
to keep him under lock and key.

Keep him here?

No.
I've got a better idea.

Crabtree can take care of him.

He seems to know everything
about child-rearing.

Sir, I'd be happy to.

I believe
this young man and myself

might have more in common
than you think.

I've been through
my own spells of melancholy.

BRACKENREID:
Well, that's settled, then.

No doubt Mr. Lovecraft
will leave a boy

and return a man, courtesy
of George Crabtree, Esquire.

Sir, I may be no miracle worker,
but I believe I can help lift

the dark cloud
that hovers over him.

Well, very good.
Thank you, George.

And when
that dark cloud lifts, sir,

not only will
the sun warm Mr. Lovecraft...

It may also shed
some light on our case.

Or it'll rain buckets like
a November Monday in Yorkshire

- on both of you.
- The sun shines, sir,

even in Yorkshire.

Not on November Mondays,
it doesn't.

CLINTON:
That's meant to be Ellen?

A rendering by Mr. Lovecraft,
yes.

Surely you recognized
that pendant as being hers

when I showed it to you
the first time.

No. I don't pay attention
to pendants and dresses.

Your friend Sarah did.

Well, I suppose girls
notice things that boys do not.

Or there's another explanation.

You lied to me

because you had something
to do with her death.

I did not.

Could one of the other members
of your group, then?

No.

You were the first one

to discover her body
by your own admission,

and yet you never reported it
to the police.

As I told you before,

Howard said
he would inform the police.

Did Mr. Lovecraft and Ellen
ever meet, to your knowledge?

I don't think so.

What was
Mr. Lovecraft's reaction

when you first told him
about the body?

Somehow,
he didn't seem surprised.

As if he knew about it already?

[ Sighs]

I don't need to see it.

I already heard everything
from Clinton.

MURDOCH: Oh.

I understand you and Ellen Woods
were cousins.

Yes. When she arrived from
Oshawa, I tried to include her.

But your friends
didn't take to her?

Perhaps if they gave her
a chance...

MURDOCH: Hmm.

Where did you imagine
she disappeared to?

Back to Oshawa.

When she failed to arrive,
did your family not alert you?

[ Scoffs I
I don't talk to my family.

Well, who do you live with,
then?

I live with the others...
At Logan's.

Is this Logan
also a member of your group?

Yes.
We all keep a room at his house.

Ian.
Come on.

I finally secured
the Balloon Lung Tester.

May I go?

This Logan's surname
and address first.

Logan Smiley.

912 Wellington.

Come on, lan.

[ Sighs]

CRABTREE:
Isn't this nice?

There's beauty all around us,
Mr. Lovecraft.

One need only open their eyes
to see it.

My eyes are wide open.

Then surely you can appreciate

the changing colors
of the autumn leaves.

As their veins
choke off the nutrition

they require to remain green.

Their last gasp

as they desperately cling
to their lifeline

before their inevitable death
and descent.

CRABTREE: [ Sighs ]

Then the leaves
are absorbed into the ground,

which provides the soil
with the nutrition it needs

to feed the trees which fostered
the leaves to begin with.

It's a beautiful circle of life.

Decay begets
more death and decay.

[ Sighs ] Look, Mr. Lovecraft.
That squirrel.

Surely you can't deny
his industry,

his preparation for winter.

No sooner than I can deny
the likelihood of its death.

The ground will freeze over.

His own kind
as likely to steal his cache

as he is to rediscover it in his
struggle to endure the winter.

Oh.

I understand the others

spend quite a bit
of their time here, Mr. Smiley.

Your father doesn't mind?

LOGAN:
He's dead.

And Mother's glad I have friends
to keep me occupied

while she travels
with her latest paramour.

Is it true that you and
Ellen Woods did not get along?

[ Sighs]
None of us did.

Not even her cousin?

Ian got along with her fine.

What was the problem exactly?

She and Clinton
fought frequently.

It created a sense of unease
amongst the group.

I was happy when she left.

Is that so?

Well, I mean, before
I found out she was murdered.

I assume she kept a room here,
as well?

Yes.
It's Howard's now.

Nothing of Ellen's remains.

Even so.

Do you really think
that squirrel will die?

We all will.

The only question is when.

I suppose you're right,
you know.

It's enough to make you wonder
what the point of it all is.

I mean, we all spend our lives
just as this squirrel,

clawing, scratching,
trying to get by.

In the end, we all end up
in the same place anyway.

But surely there's beauty to be
found in our daily struggles.

I think that's what gives life
its depth, Mr...

Lovecraft?!

These are
all Mr. Lovecraft's belongings?

Yes. I threw out all of Ellen's
things after she disappeared.

It's a love letter, sir.

"For never was there a story
of more woe than ours."

Quoting the Bard.

- Bloody pretentious.
- Indeed.

It's filled with youthful angst,

and the language
is melodramatic and dense,

but the sentiment
is unmistakable.

It's signed by Miss Woods,

but not directly addressed
to anyone.

- Nor is it dated.
- No, sir.

I found it
in Mr. Lovecraft's room

amongst his personal effects.

"To my love," although generic,

could have been Miss Woods'
pet name for Mr. Lovecraft.

Well, if you're right,
this establishes a relationship

between the two of them while
Miss Woods was still alive.

And Mr. Lovecraft's perverted
fascination with death alone

could provide motive.

He prefers the dead
to the living.

Maybe that extended to
his most intimate relationships.

- Julia.
- Doctor.

Burning the midnight oil?

I was taking a final look
at Miss Wood's body

when I discovered
something rather disturbing.

MURDOCH:
What is it?

Her left ring finger's
been severed.

It happened since she arrived.

Mr. Lovecraft.

- Crabtree.
- Sir.

- Bring me Lovecraft.
- I can't, sir.

- I lost him.
- You lost him?

Sir, I've looked
all over Toronto.

MARGARET:
"Do you believe in destiny?

That even the powers of time can
be altered for a single purpose?

MARGARET AND LOVECRAFT:
That the luckiest man

who walks this earth is the one
who finds true love."

[ Gasps ]

Oh, dear.

[ Breathes deeply ]

Mm.

Stop talking to him, Mina,
you foolish woman.

Walk away.

- [ Knock on door ]
- [ Gasps ]

[ Sighs]

Hello?

John?
Is that you?

Thomas?

Hello?

[ Sighs]

Do you like it,
Mrs. Brackenreid?

- [ Screams ]
- [ Door slams ]

BRACKENREID:
I should knock his block off.

Margaret didn't get
a wink of sleep last night,

- which means I didn't either.
- Sir, he's just a boy,

no older than your son John.

John doesn't go around
spooking housewives

with severed body parts.

I understand your frustration,
but should you do anything rash,

it could compromise
our investigation.

Get a confession
and be done with him.

Sir.

I do not like this room!

No one does.

Please have a seat,
Mr. Lovecraft.

LOVECRAFT: [ Sighs]

Miss Woods
is now missing a finger,

and Mrs. Brackenreid
has an extra.

Yes.
I gave it to her.

After trespassing into
the city morgue and severing it.

Do you not see how completely
inappropriate that is?

No.

I found this in your room
at Mr. Smiley's.

- What is it?
- MURDOCH: It's a correspondence,

from Miss Woods to you...

despite the fact that you said
you didn't know her.

I never said that.

Correction...
That you knew her only in death.

Well, this proves otherwise.

It was found in your room,
Mr. Lovecraft.

May I keep it, then?

No, you may not keep it.

It's evidence.

Evidence, that along
with other factors,

strongly suggests
that you killed Miss Woods.

You.

To me, she is not dead,
but eternal.

- Did you kill her?
- LOVECRAFT: No.

Did you know her
prior to her death?

No!

Did you sever
her finger post-mortem?

Yes.

But you didn't kill her
to begin with?

No, but I surely wish
I was there

when she passed
from this dimension to the next.

"Denn die todten
reiten schnell."

I do not speak German.

"For the dead travel fast."

I know all of "Dracula."

There's someone else
I'd like you to speak with...

in a setting that you may find
more agreeable.

DR. OGDEN:
Do you know the difference

between right and wrong,
Mr. Lovecraft?

That cannot be answered
without context.

Is it wrong
to mutilate a dead body?

I could ask you
the same question.

I conduct postmortems
as a means to an end.

You severed a finger from
a corpse for no apparent reason.

She did not mind.

Do you believe it's wrong
to kill someone?

Many killings are justified.
You should know.

Would you have been justified
in Killing Miss Woods?

If it pleased her.

And why would it please her?

LOVECRAFT: May I speak
with Mrs. Brackenreid instead?

[ Chuckles ]

I'm afraid you'll have
to make do with me.

You were in a relationship
with Miss Woods.

You knew her, did you not?

I've always known her,
through eternity.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

- Your diagnosis, Julia?
- [ Sighs ]

It would be premature
to make one, William.

He's certainly disturbed,

but I don't believe him
to be insane.

All I'm prepared to say
is that he has trouble

delineating
between reality and imagination.

But is he capable of murder?

It wouldn't surprise me.

But why? The love letter
was one of devotion.

Trying to apply logic
to the circumstances

may not be helpful
in this instance, William.

Frankly, I don't know
what to do with him.

He seems to be more at ease
expressing himself creatively.

If you continue to hold him,

perhaps you should provide him
with a new notebook.

Do you believe he's a murderer?

I don't yet know.

[ Breathes shakily ]

It has been a difficult time
since he arrived.

- Since he arrived?
- MRS. PURDY: Yes.

Since Howard joined us
from Providence five weeks ago.

- [ Sighs]
- Mr. Lovecraft

has only been in Toronto
five weeks?

CRABTREE: Mr. Lovecraft,
I have your supper...

though you hardly deserve it
after abandoning me in the park.

Can you not see
that I'm preoccupied?

What are you writing?

LOVECRAFT;
An account of recent events.

You know, I myself am a writer.

An experienced one at that.

And I can personally attest

that one should never try
to write on an empty stomach.

You're worse than my aunt.

Well, you're worse
than most of the guests

we have in this place.

And that's saying something.

I am sorry about the park,
Constable.

I highly doubt that.

MURDOCH: Something isn't
quite lining up here, Julia.

Neither are these buttons,
I'm afraid.

As best you could tell,

Ellen Woods was killed
approximately six weeks ago.

I've just learned
from Mr. Lovecraft's aunt

that he only arrived in Toronto
five weeks ago.

So, if you are right,
which you usually are,

and Mr. Lovecraft's aunt
is telling the truth,

then it's impossible
that the two ever even met.

Indeed.

One thing is certain...

Ellen Woods
did write this letter.

But perhaps it was intended
for someone else.

And planted
in Mr. Lovecraft's room?

Yes.
And if that's the case,

then perhaps someone else was in
a relationship with Ellen Woods,

and they could
very likely be the killer.

There.

That should hold.

Thank you, Julia.

[ Laughs ]

CRABTREE:
Hello.

MURDOCH:
Ladies and gentlemen...

I believe one of you
was romantically involved

with the deceased.

Now, who was it?

CRABTREE: If any of you know
anything, you should speak up.

MURDOCH:
The letter from Miss Woods

that I found
in Mr. Lovecraft's room...

It was intended
for someone else.

I believe that person
deliberately placed the letter

in Mr. Lovecraft's room
to incriminate him.

Now, who was it?

Let's go, George.

[ Brackenreid snoring ]

- Thomas.
- Hmm?

I believe I'll come in to work
with you tomorrow.

[ Sighs]
Why?

I can't stay home alone.

- He's everywhere.
- Ah.

Ah, Murdoch.
Where are we at?

Well, sir, I...
Oh, Mrs. Brackenreid.

Margaret insisted
on coming in with me today,

despite Mr. Lovecraft no longer
posing any threat to her.

Murdoch, I can't stress
how vital it is

- that you wrap this case up.
- Yes, sir.

-In fact, I...
-[ Telephone rings ]

Excuse me.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

SARAH: [ Softly ]
Is the detective there?

Could you speak up?
I can't hear you.

SARAH: [ Normal voice ]
Is the detective there?

- Detective Murdoch.
- SARAH: It's Sarah Glass.

I think
I know something important.

That letter
you were asking about...

Yes, Miss Glass?

- SARAH: [ Gasps ]
- [ Door opens ]

You're back already?

No!
Wait!

Miss Glass, are you there?

SARAH:
[ Gasping, coughing ]

M-Miss Glass?
Are you all right?

Hello?
Hello?!

SARAH: [ Choking, coughing ]

Who's there?

[ Link clicks, dial tone ]

What just happened?

BRACKENREID:
Explain yourselves.

CLINTON: We just got home.
We found her like this.

- I swear it.
- IAN: We were buying tobacco.

Where is Logan Smiley?

I don't know.

He was still here with her
when we left.

She was trying to tell us
something over the telephone.

- What was it?
- I don't know, sir.

Honest.

[ Door opens ]

What happened?

Sarah.

Where have you been, Mr. Smiley?

I-I was at the cemetery.

- Doing what?
- Worshiping the dead.

Can anyone corroborate this?

And don't say the bloody dead.

Perhaps the gravedigger.

- Are you trying to be funny?
- No.

What happened to her?

One of you lot killed her.

Sir.

Logan Smiley was, indeed,
wandering the cemetery grounds

at the time
of Miss Glass' murder.

And Mr. Lovecraft was in our
cells. What of the other two?

Well, that's where
it gets interesting, sir.

The shopkeeper
confirmed that lan Blair

did, indeed,
buy tobacco off him.

He even noted the time, as he
was about to close for lunch.

But he said
Mr. Hartley wasn't with him.

So, the two of them
left Mr. Smiley's together,

leaving Miss Glass behind.

But then Mr. Hartley

turned back to prevent her
from speaking with us.

Right, then.
I'll pick up Clinton Hartley.

Thank you, George.

Tell me again... Where were you
at 12:40 p.m., Mr. Hartley?

That's around when lan and I
went for tobacco.

MURDOCH: You were never with
Mr. Blair at the tobacco shop

as you initially claimed.

I was.

[ Sighs]

I can even show you
the purchase receipt.

Surely given to you
by your best friend.

You see, the shopkeep
confirmed that Mr. Blair

did, indeed, come in
and purchase tobacco from him...

...but not you.

I waited outside.

The shopkeep also said that
this was the last transaction

before closing for lunch.

He stepped outside,
locked the door,

and saw Mr. Blair
walking away... alone.

No.

You returned to the house
shortly after leaving

and found Miss Glass
on the telephone.

There was something
Miss Glass needed to say to me.

Very likely that it was you
she saw planting the love letter

in Mr. Lovecraft's room.

I didn't.

MURDOCH:
So you murdered her

with the nearest implement
at hand...

...the telephone.

[ Voice breaking ]
My father's gonna kill me.

It was you that was in
a relationship with Miss Woods.

And you murdered Miss Glass
to conceal the fact

that you had murdered
your own sweetheart.

Why?

Why kill your own sweetheart?

I don't know.

You loved her, but I am told
that you fought frequently.

Yes.

I know you smothered her.

But where did the blood
come from that covered her dress

and the handkerchief
that was found at the scene?

Because it wasn't her blood.

I can't recall.

Not something
one would easily forget.

While I was smothering her,
she threw her head back,

and it struck my nose.

I used the same handkerchief
to stop the bleeding.

[ Sobbing ]

A confession
isn't good enough for you?

The one
for Miss Glass' murder is.

What about Miss Woods?

Clinton Hartley claims
that he used the handkerchief

that was found at the scene
to stop his bleeding nose.

So?

MURDOCH: That handkerchief
was doused in chloroform.

It would have knocked him out
as surely as it did Miss Woods.

He couldn't possibly
have held it to his nose.

And only the killer
would know it.

Therefore, her sweetheart

could not have been
Clinton Hartley.

William,
I found something interesting.

I checked in on Mr. Lovecraft,

and he shared his new notebook
with me.

- More bloody drawings?
- No, Inspector.

He wrote a detailed account
of his experience of late.

Quite a fine writer,
it turns out.

Does it have any bearing
on our case?

Well, the letter
you found in his room...

What we perceived
simply as a love letter,

he perceived
as something much more.

Mr. Lovecraft believes
it was written to lan.

Yes, they were in love.

But they also planned
to meet on the other side.

The other side?

The other side of life.

- Death.
- Yes.

"Together, we shall go."

"For never was there a story
of more woe than ours."

You recognize the passage?

Yes. I love it when you read
Shakespeare to me.

It's "Romeo and Juliet."

And what did
Romeo and Juliet do?

They both committed suicide
in the name of love.

MURDOCH: Precisely.

Not only is this
a veiled suicide note,

but it's a suicide pact
between two star-crossed lovers.

How I envy them.

Yet only one body
was found at the scene.

But what of all that blood?

ELLEN: [ Sighs]

[ Gasps, muffled shouting ]

I will be with you soon,
my love.

[ Breathes deeply ]

[ Gasping ]

- [ Door opens ]
- CLINTON: Lan! Lan!

- [ Door closes ]
- No! Please!

Please.

Don't leave me.

You're under arrest for
the murder of Miss Ellen Woods.

[ Voice breaking ]
I miss her so.

Don't say anything, lan!

IAN: I cannot stand
to be without her.

MURDOCH:
The pendant.

IAN: May I take it with me
to the gallows

so that I may give it
to her again

once we are reunited
on the other side?

I suppose being a youth isn't
as simple as it used to be.

Was it ever simple, William?

Think about our friends
Romeo and Juliet.

Indeed.

Hmm.

It's really about salvation.

Ha.
Take that, Verna Jones.

[ Creaking ]

[ Gasps ]

"How blessed are some, whose
lives have no fears, no dreads.

To whom sleep comes nightly

and brings nothing
but sweet dreams."

What do you want?

You look beautiful, my dear.

[ Screams ]

[ Screaming ]

Shush, shush, shush, shush!
Bloody hell!

I had a horrible nightmare,
Thomas.

I had blood coming down my eyes.

- I had tentacles in my hair.
- Shh.

It's that bloody book
you're reading before bedtime.

- Stop reading it.
- It wasn't the book.

It was Mr. Lovecraft.

Don't you worry
about Mr. Lovecraft.

He's going back
to Providence tomorrow.

Even so, he's in my mind.

He's in my soul!

He's not in your mind,
and he's not in your soul.

Just go back to sleep, yeah?

- Go on.
- [ Breathing heavily ]

BRACKENREID: Oh.

Oh.

Best of luck in Providence,
Mr. Lovecraft.

You're missing a button.

Keep your nose clean, son.

LOVECRAFT: I plan to concentrate
on my writing upon my return.

Mr. Crabtree offered
some useful encouragement.

I do wonder what it would be
like to look at the world

through his eyes
instead of mine.

But I fear that will never be.

Well, don't let that
discourage you.

You keep at it.

Take care, Mr. Lovecraft.

Would you give this to her?

Everything all right, sir?

Margaret can never know of this.

MURDOCH: Ah.