All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S11E09.1080p.BluRay.x264-YELLOWBiRD

Thank goodness you're here.

Ah. Yes.

Our supply of victims
is running low.

Tell me, Frye, what is it that
makes a man rush back up a hill

he's fallen down
time and time again?

Banerjee, I'm here to play.

Are you gonna let me in or not?

No sense of humor
to be found here.

Well...

Jarvis!
You're out.

- See you later.
- Bye, Jarvis.

You've been replaced.

You two ought to have learned
some manners by now.

We are terribly unpopular
this evening, brother.

Cheers, Jarvis.

We'll see you again
when Papa sends your allowance.

Damn darkies.

At least
we're not here on scholarship.

You know what?

One day, you boys are gonna get
exactly what you deserve.

What did you say?

Do you want the whole school
to hear you? Get back in there.

Best let him go.

Come on.

Every time we move,
I think things will change.

They never do.

This is unusual, even for them.

Hello?

- Can I help you?
- Yes. Hello.

We were told to speak
to a Detective William Murdoch.

How may I be of assistance?

These are our sons,
Vik and Sunil.

They're missing.

When did your sons disappear?

Their correspondence
ceased two weeks ago.

Correspondence?

Do you not live in Toronto?

I am an emissary for the Raj,
posted in Ottawa.

For the duration,
we placed our sons

at a boarding school...
Laird College.

Laird College?

My wife would give my eyeteeth
to fix our boys a spot up there.

Two weeks missing,
and no one batted an eye.

The headmaster believed we
pulled them out of enrollment.

Is it possible your sons
simply abandoned their studies?

But they have nowhere to go.

We have no connections
in this country.

Something is wrong, Detective.

I understand your concern,
Mr. and Mrs. Banerjee.

We'll look into it.

I'll see you out.

When I was in Afghanistan,

I fought alongside
some good Indian men.

I have a deep respect
for your part of the Empire.

Perhaps I was one of those men.
I fought that war, as well.

It was devilishly hot.

Sand everywhere.

This withdrawal letter
found its way to my desk.

How was I to know
it was a forgery?

- Tuesday, the 14th.
- Ah.

The same date the parents

stopped receiving
correspondence.

It was likely written by the
Banerjee brothers themselves.

- They were troublemakers, then?
- Quite.

For 25 years, I've matriculated
both members of Parliament

and your run-of-the-mill
degenerates.

The Banerjee brothers
were the latter.

Did you not find it suspicious

that they left behind
all of their belongings?

It happens more often
than you'd expect

with the sons of diplomats.

Besides, I've been busy
interviewing professors

for our Department
of Literature.

I see.

Did the brothers
associate with any students

that we could interview?

Yeah.

Hello, rabbit.

- May I play with him?
- Her.

No, you can't.

Miss Clark.
Good afternoon.

That's an unusual encumbrance.

I've just procured
my latest test subject.

- Oh. What's the experiment?
- Hormonal therapy.

She is barren, like yourself.

And I hope
to synthesize a medicine

- that may help her conceive.
- Medicine?

- And you say you're close.
- But not successful.

My experiment
has reached an impasse.

I will inform you
when I need a human subject.

Perhaps I could assist you.

Frye, Moore, Jarvis.

Front and center.

This is Detective Murdoch
and Inspector Brackenreid.

They have some questions
for you.

Gentlemen,
I have business to attend to.

Good day, gentlemen.

Do you recall the last time
you saw the Banerjee brothers?

It has been awhile.

Did their absence
not alarm you?

What was the nature
of your friendship?

We studied together.
That's it.

Can you think of any reason
why they may have fled?

We haven't the slightest.

Do you have any knowledge
of their whereabouts?

No, sir.

What are you doing here?

I've been in since morning.

Yes, but what are
you doing here?

I'm a policeman.

You weren't always a policeman.

You simply put on a uniform
and converted, as it were.

I suppose.

Fairly young to be withering
your brain over paperwork.

In fact, it's dangerous.

How do you intend
to make room for wisdom?

I intend to do my job.

Where does a young man
grow such certainty?

I'm not certain.

I'm just "here,"

- as you call it.
- Mm, I see.

So you are not certain
you want to be a policeman?

- They know something.
- I never said they didn't.

But they won't be telling us.

Sir, I'm certain if we
interviewed them separately,

they would respond
to questioning.

You seem to forget
what it was like to be young.

Sir, when I was young,
I was happy to aid the police.

As an amateur detective...

'Course you did, Murdoch.

John.

A moment?

Are you out of your mind?!

We have
more experienced constables.

Yes.
But none that are young enough.

What is the case?

Two boys have gone missing
from their boarding school,

and none of the students
will speak to us.

And you think
they'll talk to me?

Yes, if you're a student.

Murdoch.

He's hardly gotten his feet wet.

I never will
if you keep coddling me.

- Sir?
- Oh, all right.

Hello, everyone.
I'm John.

Congratulations.

I need a seat.

Glad to see you found the class.

You lot won't be sitting
on your heels any longer.

I've found
your new literature professor.

Headmaster.

- All yours.
- Hello, all.

I am Professor Colin Matthews.

Today we are set to embark
on the most epic of journeys

to the most exotic of locales.

Our destination...
Ancient Egypt.

Oh, very funny.

The brightest of a generation,

and that's the best
you've come up with?

Now, the vessel
upon which we are about

to embark on our journey
is a novel

by the criminally
underappreciated author

George Crabtree.

It is...

"Curse of the Pharaohs."

Can we please have
something else?

Why?
You're not fond of the book?

The opposite.

It's great.

Oh, really?

What's your favorite, uh...

What is it
that makes it so "great"?

An infertile rabbit
is a rare specimen.

Three seems most unlikely.
However did you find them?

An exhaustive search
of the local farms.

They were glad to be rid
of their fruitless does.

And the cause of infertility?

Well, their reproductive organs
function,

but they cannot enter
a state of heat.

It suggests hormone deficiency.

And you have a medicinal
treatment to address this?

Chasteberry has been used
in folk infertility remedies

since ancient Greece.

I aim to extract its medicine

much the same way as aspirin was
from willow bark.

What have you tried so far?

Using the coca leaf as model,

I've created a paste of
chasteberry, water, and solvent.

Yet the paste keeps reacting to
any chemical I add to purify it.

Well, unlike coca leaf,
chasteberry contains sugar.

If we suspend it in alcohol,

we can synthesize
the plant's medicine

without the live material
interfering.

Yeah.
It's worth a fair shot.

Hey!
Come on!

Gentlemen, could I have
your attention, please?

Vik and Sunil Banerjee
are still missing.

If anyone has any information
as to their whereabouts,

you better come see me
at Station House Number Four.

Thank you.

Oi, you there.

I've not seen you before.

You wouldn't be avoiding
the constabulary

by any chance, would you?

You haven't seen me
because I'm new.

You better start adding a "sir"
to the end of your sentences.

Sod off. Sir.

What did you just say?

Stand up!
Come here!

I'd like to see
if you've got the nerve

to repeat yourself now.

Good. Seems to me
like you've learned your lesson.

No way!

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Your colleague and I
need to have a little chat.

When I said you could get rowdy,

I didn't mean
punch me in the face.

It had to look real.

As long
as the right people saw it.

Constable Crabtree
doesn't need to be here.

- I have this in hand.
- Oh, is that right?

So, what do you know so far?

Not much.

Here, take this.

Maybe it will loosen
a few tongues.

And be careful.

Good punch, by the way.

Gerald Jarvis.

Proud son of Gordon Jarvis,
the barrister.

John. Simpson.

Son of Thomas Simpson,
the whiskey brewer.

You got gumption, punching
that inspector like that.

I don't like to be pushed.

I'm just surprised
you're not in jail.

He was satisfied to rough me up.

It's for you.

It took me ages
to get my invitation.

What do you mean?

"Be ready in 15 minutes.
Bring money."

What is this?

It's an invitation
to the real school.

Tell me once more...
How did you fall?

I walked into a door.

No, you didn't.
What happened?

- John hit me.
- What?!

Margaret, calm down
if you want to go to dinner.

I have no problem
instructing the driver

to turn this carriage around.

Fine.

Go on.

He walloped me in front
of the Laird students

so that they would adopt him
into their group.

Oh, Thomas!

Boys of such class won't stand
for such abhorrent behavior!

They'll think him a vagrant.

Now he won't make
any connections there.

You do understand
he's not really a student?

He's a police officer on duty.

I know that!

I just hope that perhaps
his time at Laird College

might change his thinking.

You won't let that go, will you?

It's not my decision
that he follows in my footsteps.

- It's his.
- Well, you could discourage him.

I have.

It seems that
he's as stubborn as his mother.

- Welcome.
- What is this?

Much better than our fathers'
clubs, I can assure you.

No trite conversations
over brandy

and no pretending we have
influence over things

half a world away.

But we do have cigars.

Cheers.

All right, call.

Those cards?
They're from France.

I want to go to France.

- Where did you get them?
- The Banerjee brothers.

Apparently their parents
were posted there for a time.

Should have stayed there.

How do I purchase cards
from them?

You can't.

They're gone, and good riddance.

- What happened to them?
- Disappeared.

Conveniently the same night

that they lost
a hideous amount to me.

Quit complaining.
I covered their losses.

Yeah, and you're the house now.

So who's really winning?

If you want to play,
you need money.

I have something even better.

A break from whatever vinegar
you're brewing in the corner.

Your father's whiskey.

Capital.

I didn't believe
there'd be enough spores

to kill seven Egyptologists.

One, perhaps two.

But seven?

Well, Simpson.

That's called taking
"artistic license."

Class, were none of you drawn in

by the rich atmosphere
of ancient Egypt?

Not really.

But some of
the descriptive passages here...

"the sandy desert broken
only by the mighty Nile."

You know?

The Sphinx, the Pyramids.

"The Great Pyramids,
both triangular and huge."

I've been to Egypt,

unlike you, who clearly
has never left the continent.

The only thing of note
about Egypt

is that it's unpleasantly hot.

Frye, if you're not careful,

you'll be cynical
your whole life.

Who cares?
None of this matters.

All right, class.
That's enough for today.

Meet me tonight.

Forbidden fruit?

Nina.

I regret I'm not in the mood.

Too jaded by the state
of today's youth.

What do you mind?

You don't have to teach.

I know it's all a ruse,

but if I could just reach
this one student...

If I could just reach
this one teacher...

I mean, his grades
were excellent in the past.

I feel
he's just given up on himself.

I know there's passion in him.
He just...

He needs to discover it.

Well, then charm him.

I once had a Star Room customer
who never paid me any attention.

- It's hardly the same.
- Sure, it is.

I tried everything
to intrigue him.

I even changed my costume,
inspired by his profession.

Nina, I don't know if I want
to hear any more of this.

I assure you,
the effort was worth it.

The customer was you.

Well, this is disheartening.

She was the only doe
to receive the chemical.

The medicine
appears to be poisonous.

I see.

Not to say I'm giving up.

Well, no.
Of course not.

Thank you for letting me know.

Well, I should get back to work.

Something on your mind, Julia?

It's nothing.

Just a slow day at the morgue.

Good news for the living.

I've just been thinking about
how I rely on my work so much

for my sense of purpose.

The satisfaction
of a job well done

is one of life's
greatest pleasures.

Is it wrong to want more?

No.

But I've never known you
to be one to wait for change.

You always create it.

Perhaps I've said
the wrong thing.

On the contrary.

You said
just what needed to be said.

Nothing.

What exactly are we looking for?

The Banerjees made a still
from science equipment.

I got the sense that they spent
a lot of time in here.

Is that blood?

Where would that have come from?

John.
Get a Petri dish and some glue.

And I need...

Found them.

Violet phosphorous.

What are you doing?

I am illuminating the invisible.

Violet phosphorous
absorbs visible light

and translates it
into ultraviolet radiation.

At least I think
that's how the detective put it.

Get the lights.

If there's blood,
this will reveal it.

So much blood.

May have been the perpetrator

stepped
in his own victim's blood.

Seems to lead this way.

Seems to me the body
was brought from over there,

to this wall...

and then dragged back
as far as...

This hasn't been
cleaned out in ages.

This top layer is fresh,

but it's the middle of June.

Look at this.

What is that?

Bone.

- Do you know who's responsible?
- Not yet.

We need you to keep this quiet.

We don't want
to tip the murderer.

You have my word.

The fewer people who know
about this, the better.

Excellent improvisation with
the ultraviolet light, George.

Just when I think
no one is listening.

- Oh. It was nothing, sir.
- What have you found?

It's impossible
to determine so far, sir,

until we sift through
all of the ashes.

- And the shoe print?
- Sir.

Average size, average style.
Could be anybody's.

Walter Moore.

I beg your pardon?

Walter Moore, one of the boys.

- I'm certain he's involved.
- Why?

He's taken over the Banerjees'
gambling business.

"Follow the money."
You always say that.

If it is his shoe, would there
still be traces of blood?

There very well could be.

But if you want to be sure,
use this.

I have a special assignment
for you today, lads.

It should be a real treat.
Life-changing, even.

I would like you each
to write your own obituary.

A rather morbid turn
to your lectures.

Not at all, Jarvis.

In fact, it will give you cause
to reflect

on the things
that make life worth living.

I mean, we can sit around

reading about heroes
all you like.

Or you can be the heroes.

The heroes in the stories
of your own lives.

- And how would yours read, sir?
- Well, I don't know, Mr. Moore.

I suppose
it would go something like...

"Professor Colin Matthews
is survived

by his beautiful wife
and seven children.

A virile gentleman,
to say the least.

His eulogy was delivered
by his best friend,

William M-M-Murphy.

And he died the author of
Canada's universally praised...

Nay, lauded... series,
"The Secrets of Go Home Lake."

Is that all?

Well, if you imagine greater
things for yourself, Mr. Frye,

I implore you, get to work.

Class.

Detective Watts,
are you occupied?

In terms of police work, no.

Are those...

I borrowed these from your desk.

In the future,
I would appreciate it...

You can't see out of them.

They're meant to see heat.

Eventually.

More work is required.

Perhaps you might explain
why heat needs to be seen.

I will, on the way
to the storage shed.

What's the task at hand?

A messy one, I'm afraid.

The dissection reveals she was
in heat at time of death.

That's very unusual.

But you were successful
in stimulating its hormones.

We should test
at a lower dosage.

Even if it is safe for rabbits,
it may not be for you.

Well, I'm willing
to take the chance.

You would put yourself at risk
for what?

The approval of your husband?

It's not for his approval.

William very much wants a child,
and so do I.

Well, the other rabbits
aren't dead yet, Doctor.

I will inform you
when I have results.

Thank you.

What did you find?

These bone and tooth fragments.

But they're too damaged
to yield any information. You?

Well, I found
these curious bits of metal.

One of these teeth
has been hollowed out.

These must be amalgam fillings.

Oh. Then we need to find out
if the boys had fillings.

Detective,
has it occurred to you

that we're covered
in human remains?

Yes, it had, Detective.

But I'd hoped to...
keep it unspoken.

That new professor
is far too enthusiastic.

It's nearly indecent.

Oh, he's all right.

Say, do you have
any of those postcards left?

Only from
my personal collection.

Why?

I'll play you for them.

If I lose, I'll trade you
my brand-new Oxfords

for your ratty pair.

If I win, I get your collection.

One draw only.
Agreed?

Deal.

So, why did you take over
the Banerjee club anyway?

Why do anything?

For fun.

Draw or stay?

Three, please.

You must be happy they're gone.

No one seemed
to like the brothers.

I had no quarrel with them.

How about the rest?

They didn't like them
because they were brown.

That's why they moved on.

- Moved on?
- Left this place.

They're cooking up
their next scheme as we speak.

They are?

Draw or stay?

I'm taking two.

Ready?

Flip.

Nothing.

Four 3s.

Can't beat a good player.

The seminar's over.

- Mr. Frye.
- What now?

May I discuss something
with you?

You drew this caricature of me

in lieu
of your obituary assignment.

You chased me to chastise me?

Actually, I came to commend you.
It's quite good.

I never asked your opinion.

Also, I saw some of the drawings

you did for the Laird Chronicle.

You gave them up.

They bored me.

Mr. Frye, why are you trying
at great lengths

to hide your talent?

What do I need talent for?

So I can write
the finest waybills

that my father's
shipping business has ever seen?

There's more
to life than just work.

- You shouldn't turn your back...
- Just give it a rest, will you?

You know, Professor Abrams
never meddled this much.

Is he ever coming back?

Where did he go?

Couldn't tell you.

He never said goodbye.

Vive la France.

I was wrong.

There was nothing
on Moore's shoes.

Not even dirt.

I was sure it was him.

Don't beat yourself up, John.

One piece of advice.

I'm sure Detective Murdoch would
say this, as would your father.

In this line of work,
you're wrong until you're right.

Come on.

You have news, Inspector?

- There was a murder on campus.
- You're not saying...

Let him finish, Padma.

The victim had fillings in the
central incisor and first molar.

Now, I have to ask if either Vik
or Sunil had any such fillings.

No, they didn't.

So, where are my sons,
Detective?!

Sirs, I don't think the Ba...
Uh...

The... Come here.

We'll be right back.

Excuse us.

- What is it, Crabtree?
- Sirs.

I've been filling a vacancy
in the literature department.

We bloody well know that,
don't we?

Yes.
But why is there a vacancy?

Sirs.

Look at the last professor's
agenda.

He stopped writing the same day
the boys disappeared.

Not only that...
Some of these illicit postcards

the boys have been selling
were in his possession.

So he was mixed up
in their scheme.

Well, I thought the same.
So I went by his rooming house.

Nobody's seen hide
nor hair of him.

But none of his possessions
have been touched.

Sirs, what if the Banerjee boys
were not the murdered?

- What if...
- The professor

found out what they were doing
and threatened to expose them.

Is everything all right?

The murder victim
may be a teacher.

How terrible.

Your sons may be the killers.

Sir, his dentist
was able to confirm

that Professor Abrams
was, indeed, the victim.

Any idea where the brothers are?

Tell him, John.

Well, Walter Moore
said the brothers

were "cooking up a scheme
as we speak."

At the time, I thought it was
a lie to cover up his guilt.

But now I think
he knows something.

All right. But we've lost
a lot of time on this case.

Be swift.

Sir.

That old bastard.

Who's crossed John Simpson?

The inspector I punched wants me

to investigate
the Banerjee brothers

in exchange for dropping
my assault charge.

They care that much
about gambling?

No.

These friends of yours
murdered a Professor Abrams.

The police are determined
to find them.

I don't envy the Banerjees.

Dear God.

I can't believe
you ever associated with them.

Take over for me.
I have something to attend to.

This one is in heat.

.5% is the winning dosage.

It worked.

How wonderful!

Well, will you join me
for a libation to celebrate?

Oh, I do not partake
in the sorrows of drink.

Well, I suppose I'm on my own.

Let me know when you've
synthesized more of the hormone.

Mwah!

Let's put you back.

I followed Moore here.
This is his father's hotel.

I believe we'll find
the Banerjees here, sir.

Well, let's get them, then.

What's wrong?

Should we wait
for some more constables?

Listen to me, son.

You and I are more than capable
of handling this.

Come on.
Let's get a move on.

I don't want your money.
Just get out.

We can make
a better arrangement.

Toronto Constabulary! Open up!

Stop right there
if you know what's good for you!

- John, grab him!
- Simpson?

It's Constable Brackenreid.

- My son.
- I didn't do anything.

They said the police
were after them for gambling.

I didn't know
they were murderers.

We didn't murder
Professor Abrams!

Sunil, be quiet!

His blood on your boot.

It'll match the print
at the murder scene.

You... You have it wrong.

We were there,
but we didn't commit the murder.

We witnessed it.

Tell us what happened.

We went to the science lab to
get Frye the money we owed him.

We heard two men come in,
so we hid.

There was a fight.

We couldn't help him.

Did you see who it was?

We did not.

You witnessed a murder, but
you never saw a bloody thing?

We were hiding!

Did you hear
what they were arguing about?

No.

It happened so fast,
and they never spoke.

What a load of bollocks.

Why did you not simply report it
to the police?

Somehow we didn't think you'd
believe two Indian brothers

who ran
an illegal gambling club.

- Ma-ji! Papa-ji!
- Vik! Sunil!

- We didn't do anything. I swear.
- Not another word, Sunil.

You will not speak
to our sons again

without our lawyer present.

Lawyer or not,
the evidence is strong enough

without a confession.

You're leaving?

I'm finished here.

You were too sincere
for this place anyway.

And what's your issue
with sincerity, Frye?

I told you... None of this
makes any difference.

I know you think your father

has your whole life
mapped out for you.

But if you turn your back
on your talents now...

if you fail
to complete assignments,

if you fail to graduate...

Fail to graduate?
That's rich.

You don't think
I'll give you a failing grade?

It doesn't matter.

There are no consequences
for those who can afford it.

What do you mean by that?

Professor Abrams
tried to fail me.

But look.
I'm still here.

Where's he?

Sir.

It wasn't them.

Bring him in, George.

Detective.

I'm relieved
you caught the murderers.

Laird College can move on.

Shall I write my statement,
or is testimony enough?

Perhaps you should be
writing your confession.

I beg your pardon?

You murdered Professor Abrams.

Why would I do that?

To protect Laird graduates

who are now in boardrooms,
law firms, even Parliament,

whose reputations
were built on your business

of selling flawless records
to the wealthy.

How do you know that?

Mr. Frye's report card,
complete with your signature.

A flawless record.

One of many.

He's an excellent student.

Hardly.

Mr. Frye received this failing
grade from Professor Abrams,

and yet your report
doesn't account for it at all.

Professor Abrams threatened
your income, so you killed him.

You have no evidence.

On the contrary.

You left two key pieces
of evidence that night.

They both saw you.

Impossible.

They were hiding
in the very room.

Well, then they couldn't have
seen me. It was too dark.

If that's what they told you,
they're lying.

You're right.
They didn't identify you.

I did.

But how did you know
the room was dark?

You realize that amounts
to a confession?

Well.

Then there's
nothing left to say.

I couldn't agree more.

Thank you, gentlemen.

A policeman, eh?

Not just any policeman.

A published one.

- You're George Crabtree?
- See?

All this time,
you've been in the presence

of one of your favorite authors.

I wouldn't go that far.

Here.

It's my stab
at your obituary assignment.

I drew my life
as an illustrator.

Frye, this is excellent.

You know,
if "Curse of the Lost Pharaohs"

ever goes into reprint...
Which it is sure to...

Perhaps you could draw
some of the scenes for it.

All right,
but I don't work for free.

So, where are your boys?

Assuring their mother
there will be no more trouble.

Do you think that's true?

Oh, I very much doubt that.

You saved my sons.

I'm in your debt.

I had help.

You must be proud of him.

Yes, I am.

I'd be a lot prouder of him
if he wasn't a policeman.

He's capable of so much more.

That may be.

But don't forget... It's his
path, Inspector Brackenreid.

- Let the Empire shape itself.
- Hm.

- Good day, sir.
- Good day.

Take care of yourself.

Think I lost a friend.

You're a policeman now, son.
That's gonna happen quite a lot.

Right, then.
Let's get back to work.

Yes, sir.