Original subtitles

I hope I haven't pressed you into this.

Don't be silly, William. I'm happy to accompany you.

- You really don't mind? - Not at all.

I just hope my morning sickness passes quickly.

Don't worry, William.

It's worth it for a healthy baby.

- Well, here we are. - Yes. Here we are.

Shall we?

This'll do me good.

I'm in need of some quiet contemplation.

Or a nap.

There's a visiting bishop today.

He's giving a sermon on confessions.

Perhaps you could glean some advice for the interview room.

Are you saying I need it?

"I will instruct thee and teach thee

in the way which thou shalt go."

Psalms.

I'm not a complete heathen, William.

I have read the Bible.

Good morning.

I shall depart from tradition this morning

by sharing with you all some good news.

Yesterday, the church received a surprise,

the gift of a statue of the Virgin Mary,

from an anonymous donor.

I hope we can all agree that this is a most fitting

addition to the church.

And now with Father McGray's kind permission,

I will deliver the Lord's message.

Every one of us sins.

We may be made in the image of the Lord,

but we are all of us imperfect creations.

We acknowledge our imperfections by admitting to our sins.

This is the purpose and the power of confession.

It is not to admit to the Lord that we have done wrong.

It is to admit to Him that we are aware

of our weakness and of our wickedness.

What's going on?

I don't know.

I should also suggest to you that we...

Virgin Mary, pray for us!

The statue.

It's crying.

I-It's not crying. That's blood.

Father McGray, it's good to see you.

Ah, Detective Murdoch.

And Dr. Ogden. We don't see you often enough.

F-Father, I would appreciate a word.

I'm afraid I don't know what to say.

You've seen as much as I have.

Yes. This statue arrived yesterday?

It was delivered right before sunrise, and there was no note.

An anonymous benefactor. Curious.

It's not unheard of to receive gifts in that manner.

Father, I would like to examine this statue.

Truth be told, Detective,

I would like to examine it as well.

Are you reluctant to believe in miracles, Father?

Officially, no.

Skepticism in these cases

is equated with doubting our entire faith.

However, it's...

I believe blind faith without skeptical inquiry is ignorance.

I'll admit I agree.

Will you allow me to investigate?

Bishop.

Bishop, I'm Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.

I was just telling Father McGray...

Let me guess.

You were telling him that you, a layman,

would like to investigate this miracle.

Correct.

Detective, the Catholic Church has many cardinals

whose job it is to rule on these matters.

I intend to leave it in their most capable hands.

- What are you afraid of? - I'm sorry, I beg your pardon?

Well, surely if it's a real miracle,

it would withstand examination.

What occurred here today is not of the concrete world,

but of the spiritual,

as any good Catholic would understand.

Good day.

It seems I've been outranked.

I can't do it.

- What's that? - The bread. I can't do it.

I-It's soft, it's tasteless...

Let me guess. The food was better in Paris?

You're right about that, Higgins.

Let me tell you, every... every meal was a feast.

E-Even bread. A long, crisp French baguette?

- Oh, work of art. - You don't say.

- Ruth! - Henry!

George. I hope you don't mind this intrusion.

Not at all.

I bought you a present, and I couldn't wait to give it to you.

Let's see it.

It's a hat!

Oh, you shouldn't have.

Oh! See?

I knew you would look dashing in that.

What do you think, George?

Oh, yes, that's fine for over here.

Fine for over here?

George only likes French things now.

If my trip has broadened my worldview, then excusez-moi.

I should be going, but I'll see you soon.

And, Henry, that hat really does look nice on you.

Thank you, Floopsie. Rawr.

That Miss Newsome is really something, huh?

She is indeed.

You know, Higgins, far be it from me

to give advice, but if I were you...

I'm gonna ask Ruth for her hand, George.

What?

Higgins, you've only been courting her a short while.

I've worn the same pair of socks longer.

I've got a ring already.

I can't imagine that there's a better woman than Ruth Newsome.

For you, perhaps.

Well, that's really all that matters, now, isn't it, George?

I can't believe the Telegraph

has stooped to reporting false news.

False news? Sir, this is a real live miracle.

As far as I'm concerned, it's about time

Toronto caught up with the rest of the world and had one.

Incredible. Will you go back to see it again?

I believe I will.

You know, I-I narrowly missed

the relic of St. Rose while I was in "Paree."

Apparently, if you touched it and made a wish,

it will come true.

Somebody from this church made a wish, and it came true.

I bet they're making piles of money.

Miracles are a part of the faith.

It's probably rusty water from a leak in the ceiling.

The ceiling is sound.

- Condensation. - Unless the statue is metal...

Alabaster.

Alabaster doesn't produce condensation.

It's a load of bollocks.

Surely you don't believe this parlor trick.

You're a man of science.

It does warrant a closer look.

Uh, Detective, would you be opposed to me joining you?

Gentlemen, what's your business here?

We're protesting.

We hope you're here to shut this circus down.

I'll decide that.

These Catholics are always dramatic, but now this?

A fake miracle? It's an insult.

Bloody papists!

Unless you intend to spend a night in the cells,

I'd suggest you disperse.

Now.

Excuse me.

Detective Murdoch, Detective Watts,

Toronto Constabulary.

Pleased to make your acquaintance, Father...?

Jennings. Welcome. What can I do for you?

We'd like to take a sample of the blood for testing.

I'm afraid I'm new to this church.

I can't make that decision myself.

Bishop Gorey has decreed that no one is to touch the statue.

If you'll excuse me, gentlemen.

Please, do not get too close to the Virgin.

Please, back away.

Well, now might be the time to take a sample.

I'm afraid I have to respect the bishop's wishes.

- And I understand that. - Wha...

You. What are you doing?

I'm just paying my respects.

- Julia. - Hello.

Another stomach upset.

- Perhaps you should... - See a doctor?

Don't worry, I...

Unsettled stomachs can be a harbinger, Dr. Ogden.

Typhus, cholera, Russian flu.

I'm fine, Detective.

- Have you something for me? - Yes. Blood.

- Oh. From where? - The Virgin Mary.

So the church is cooperating now?

The order to stay away from the statue stands.

Detective Murdoch is cooperating.

I am not.

Miss Hart?

The detective has a blood sample.

Could you put it on a slide, please?

Certainly.

May I ask, is there a small part of you

that believes it might be a miracle?

I prefer logic and science to faith.

And if logic and science can offer no explanation?

Consider the bumblebee.

It shouldn't be able to fly, yet it does.

Well, I believe science will explain that in time too.

Then you've simply chosen to put your faith in science

rather than religion.

Well, miracle or not,

this blood is definitely mammalian.

I will need some time to ascertain if it's human.

Of course. Thank you, ladies.

- Uh... - We should go.

If it is animal blood,

perhaps this is someone's idea of a joke.

Yes, and if it's human, perhaps something rather darker.

Hello, I'm Detective...

Have you come to see the Virgin?

- Yes, I have. - She's crying for me.

Do you think her tears smell like roses?

I can't say I've noticed that...

Father?

My housekeeper, Miss Beattie, is overwrought,

as are many in the congregation.

I am striving to guide her as best as I can.

This is madness.

- I have a confession to make. - Now?

Detective Watts took a sample of the blood.

I should be furious, but I'm not.

I just want this to end.

- What did you find? - It's human.

- Human? How? - BEATTIE:

I'm a sinner.

Forgive me.

I'm a murderer!

Perhaps this isn't the best time.

I understand that she is distressed.

I'll be brief.

But she has made a serious claim.

Father, I wish to speak with Miss Beattie alone.

I think she would rather that I stayed.

Well, this won't take long.

If you'd prefer,

I could ask that she come down to the station house.

That won't be necessary.

It's all right, Father.

I'm prepared to talk to the detective.

How are you feeling, Miss Beattie?

You stated that you are a murderer.

Please tell me what you meant.

I haven't been sleeping very well.

I can't get any peace.

Perhaps it will help to speak with someone.

It happened when I was 18 years old.

My mother was ill.

I looked after her as best I could,

but I was young.

I went out to a dance, and when I got home...

She had passed away?

She needed her pills,

and I wasn't there to give them to her.

Now the Virgin Mary is speaking to me.

She knows I'm guilty.

The statue is speaking to you?

God is speaking to me through her.

Miss Beattie, I am very sorry about your mother,

but in the eyes of the law,

that doesn't make you a murderer.

Just because a person doesn't shoot or stab or smother

doesn't mean that they aren't equally guilty of murder.

Bonjour, mon amour!

You two do realize you're still Canadians?

Travel can change a person, Constable Higgins.

Often for the better.

Mm, I'm not interested.

You should try a trip to Paree, Henry.

In fact, it would be an excellent place for a honeymoon.

There's nothing wrong with Niagara Falls.

Why would anyone want to get married? It's terribly passé.

Well, now, there is something to be said...

Oh, George, do you remember that handsome couple we met

on the Champs-lysées?

They'd been together for years and never married.

They were very au courant.

Did they live together?

When it suited them. It sounded marvelous.

I'll never get married. I would just die.

Wouldn't you just die, George?

Actually, Nina, Henry's just told me

that he plans to propose to Ruth.

That's wonderful!

Do you have a ring?

Yes.

It's simple.

But it's lovely.

Well, it's all I could afford.

Uh, well, simple is... is... is modern.

Simple's all the rage.

Interesting, isn't it?

Some would think that the photographic process

was a miracle.

And like most phenomena,

this miracle is the result of a natural process.

Most phenomena, you say?

So that which confounds scientific understanding

must then be the divine?

Perhaps science itself is a creation of the divine.

Well, then you do believe in miracles.

Bloody left-footers.

First they want us gone,

next they want us at their beck and call.

I beg your pardon?

Left-footers. Catholics, Watts, Catholics.

The constabulary has been asked to supply

'round-the-clock guards for their miracle.

- Have there been disturbances? - Well, take your pick, Murdoch.

Not only has some mystery man stolen the Virgin Mary's tears,

but someone has tried to smash the statue with a hammer.

Add to that every Catholic this side of Manitoba

is making a pilgrimage to the church.

Send Crabtree and Higgins down there,

see if they can hold back the Fenian hordes.

Yes, sir.

Eating dinner packed by your lady love's own personal chef.

Doesn't get much better than that, George.

I would hardly call crab paste sandwiches

the height of a romantic relationship, Henry,

especially ones prepared by your lady love's servant.

She is awfully grand, isn't she?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for her.

You're plenty good enough, Henry.

In fact, I think the two of you are a perfect match.

Maybe she deserves better than a constable.

Earning a constable's wages.

Don't be daft, Higgins. She doesn't care about your money.

She's got enough for both of you.

I'm telling you, if you marry this woman,

you may never have to work another day again.

I'll work. I'm no cad.

Perhaps I won't work quite as hard, though.

Now, that I find hard to believe.

Sir! What are you doing here?

Taking advantage of the privacy.

Sir, you're not... you're not supposed to touch the statue.

I don't intend to, George.

What is this?

I've modified this Crookes tube to make a portable Rntgen ray.

Shining the resulting rays through the statue's head

should give me an image of what, if anything, is inside.

Oh. You should try it on Higgins, sir.

You're trespassing.

We were asked here.

To guard the statue.

Father, with all due respect,

we need to know if this miracle is real.

So you wish to use this Rntgen ray machine

to take an image of the interior?

Father, you're familiar with Rntgen rays?

I visit the Dundas library regularly.

The scientific journals are all abuzz

regarding these new X-rays.

So you approve?

Let me just say that I'm having difficulty believing

that the Virgin's tears are divine.

Detective Watts.

I've just read a 20-year-old obituary for one Flora Beattie.

Dead of a heart attack after a long illness.

Survived by her daughter, Josephine.

Proof of her confession.

So that particular confession may be true, but...

You believe there's something more?

Quite possibly. Have a look at this.

I've found two small holes, one in each eye.

I believe the fluid was inserted with a syringe,

collected in this reservoir.

The plaster in each eye then allows the fluid

to seep out slowly, thus making the statue cry.

Have you alerted the church?

Father McGray assures me of his utmost discretion.

Our only hope of discovering who created this statue

is to wait for another miracle to be attempted.

You want her to cry again.

Yes.

But before that can happen, I need you to find out

where a statue of this quality might be made.

Take one of these photographs with you.

So you've definitely proven that the Virgin Mary isn't crying.

You don't seem pleased, Detective Watts.

Oh, I'll admit I found it heartening

to contemplate a miracle,

if only for a passing moment.

We haven't seen a soul in hours.

I don't see why the both of us have to be here.

- For the company. - Yes, I know, but...

Perhaps one of us could take a break.

I'll go first.

Well, the inspector did charge both of us

with looking after the statue.

Who's that?

Henry, I...

I thought you were gonna wait outside.

If you two wanted to be alone, you could've just told me.

No, we were just...

No, this brings me back to my earlier point

about Toronto.

It's a wonderful city, but it's too inhibited.

I mean, if we were in France...

- Shall we go for a walk, Henry? - Yes.

What was that?

It was a bird.

There's no birds at night, Henry.

- What about owls? - Owl's not a bird.

Though I suppose anything's better

than George Crabtree prattling on.

George?

I know you work with him, Henry, but...

Well, I don't just work with him. He's my friend.

He's my best friend.

In fact, if ever I were to marry...

It would be to George?

No, he would be my best man.

Oh, well, I suppose he is reliable.

It's all right, Ruth.

You're safe with me.

In fact...

I intend to keep you safe all your life.

Ruth Alfreda Newsome,

of the Mimico Newsomes...

- Oh, are you all right? - I...

Higgins saw her come sailing off the bell tower.

That would account for these injuries, wouldn't it?

Let's not be too quick to judge.

- This wound is unusual. - How so?

By the looks of it, she was struck with something.

Well, yes. The ground.

Yes, I don't think so.

Curious.

There are fresh scratches on both arms.

So where was she before the bell tolled for her?

Never seen it before.

Are you sure?

Have another look.

I know the statues I've carved.

That's not one of them.

Well, your friend over there told me differently.

Well, there's nothing more to say.

The head of this statue is filled with human blood

from an unknown person,

and therefore falls in the purview of the constabulary.

Blood?

Don't you read the papers? It's wreaking havoc in Toronto.

Well, that has nothing to do with me.

Unfortunate, isn't it?

That you're withholding evidence.

I'll have to shut this place down today...

Hey, you can't do that.

...and take you into the station house for questioning,

unless someone can tell me who commissioned that statue.

Look, he paid me extra not to talk to anyone about it.

What was his name?

I have it written down on the bill.

You didn't have to accompany me to the top, sir.

More than able, Murdoch.

Besides, four eyes are better than two.

Foot the ladder, Murdoch.

This must be where she jumped from.

It's a long bloody way down, Murdoch.

Well...

A note.

"I cannot live with myself or this terrible secret any longer.

I must either confess or end my life."

Sounds like a suicide note to me.

That doesn't make any sense.

Miss Beattie did confess.

To myself and to Father McGray.

Confession doesn't necessarily make the guilt go away.

Blood.

I believe this is where

she sustained the injury to her forehead.

You think somebody maybe pushed her into the bell,

then threw her off the tower?

Roses.

Sir, does it look to you like the dirt around these rosebushes

has been recently disturbed?

I can't see. I can't really tell.

Maybe.

Do you recall the scratches on Miss Beattie's arms?

Let's hope whatever was there still is.

Age before beauty, sir.

Let the dog see the rabbit, Murdoch.

Murdoch never digs. Never bloody digs.

Never digs.

It's always me or Crabtree digging.

Perhaps a bit to the left.

There's something.

Poor little sod.

Judging by the size of the remains

and the fact that the posterior fontanel had yet to close...

...I'd say this child was a newborn.

But why bury it under a bush,

with the church cemetery so close?

Perhaps someone wanted to pretend

this child never existed.

We'll find out everything we can.

This might be difficult. How are you feeling, Miss Hart?

Oh, I'm... I'm fine.

In our work so far,

we haven't had occasion to examine an infant.

Well, that is true,

but there's no point of crying or carrying on.

Terrible things happen all the time.

I just try not to think about it.

That's an admirable trait.

You think so?

Not only has she gone back to Mimico,

but she's taken to her bed, saying that she has the vapors.

Oh, dear. Have you gone to visit her?

She wrote in her letter that I shouldn't think of it.

She doesn't want to see you anymore?

I'm not sure.

I think that every time she looks at me now, she sees...

She sees a dead body landing at your feet.

It must've been horrible.

I thought a moonlit stroll would be romantic.

Go and see her, Henry. Bring her flowers.

She knew that I was just about to propose.

I was down on one knee.

Well, "cest" la vie, Henry.

Women are often fickle creatures.

Perhaps she just was...

Nina, you didn't read the letter, now.

Let's not torture poor Henry.

George...

Just take this for me.

I won't be needing it.

Higgins!

I'll try to sell it for you!

So also a possibility.

- My suspicion was correct. - Don't you ever knock?

What have you, Detective?

A sculptor there did make the statue.

And?

I know who ordered and paid for it.

You are coming with us, Father.

Father Jennings?

How extraordinary.

Why did he do it?

I'm about to interview him.

Did he have anything to do with

that poor infant you found buried?

I believe the statue and the baby

are connected somehow, but...

During your postmortem,

did you happen to determine if she had ever carried a child?

No, I was just looking for cause of death.

- I'll reexamine her right away. - Thank you.

William, something strange happened,

and I can't seem to get it out of my mind.

What is it?

Did it seem odd to you

that Miss Hart was completely unmoved earlier?

- She's new at the profession. - Precisely!

How has she learned so quickly to divorce herself from emotion?

It would seem to me that those qualities

would make her an excellent clinician.

But even an expert can have sympathy for the patient.

Of course.

You're probably right.

She has taken to the morgue exceptionally well.

All right, Father, you can start by telling us

why you commissioned this statue.

I have nothing to do with it.

We spoke with the sculptor who made it.

- He gave us your name. - I had his word.

In the real world, Father,

a man's word very rarely accounts for much.

What were your intentions?

I most certainly didn't mean for Miss Beattie

to take her own life.

She didn't.

We believe she was murdered.

Perhaps you were the one who pushed her.

No, I-I didn't. I swear.

Father Jennings,

help us understand why you created this false miracle.

I can't say anything.

Why not?

All I can say is that I wanted to root out evil.

I thought that this miracle

might make those who committed evil

confess to the police.

What does this have to do with Miss Beattie?

Did she discover that you had the statue made?

No.

We found an infant's body buried in the rectory gardens.

- Was it Miss Beattie's child? - I cannot say!

Can't say or won't say?

Right, that's it.

We're arresting you on the suspicion of murder.

You can sit in a cell till you decide...

Do what you want with me, but please don't stop investigating.

- Then tell us what you know. - I told you, I cannot.

I know the facts as God, not as a man.

What was that all about, he knows the facts as God?

He must've heard someone admit to a crime in confessional,

and under Catholic law he cannot tell us what he heard.

- Well, that's ridiculous. - To you, maybe.

But if he told us what he heard, he would be excommunicated.

- So he's useless to us. - Perhaps not.

Julia...

Dr. Ogden couldn't come. She had to rush off.

She's a very busy woman.

Yes, she is. I understand.

We examined Miss Beattie further.

Her pelvic inlet was widened,

indicating she did indeed carry and deliver a child.

Very good.

Thank you, Miss Hart.

This must be very difficult for you, being a Catholic.

I just wanted to let you know that I understand.

Are you a Catholic as well?

I find it's my faith that keeps me strong

when the morgue becomes distressing.

Yes, yes. Your composure has been impressive.

Many people might find working with the dead upsetting,

to say the least.

Honestly, I find it the perfect fit.

In fact, I've been thinking once I complete university

that I, too, would like to become a coroner.

Indeed.

Perhaps I'll even marry a detective.

Father Jennings?

If I tell you what I believe to be true,

can you confirm if I'm correct?

I said all I can.

I had the statue made and my blood filled it.

- That's all you can tell me? - Yes.

I know Miss Beattie had a child,

and I believe that child was the one

I found buried under the rosebushes.

I can't answer that.

Was it Miss Beattie who confessed to you?

Sir, you understand my dilemma.

- And you understand mine. - Yes.

There is a way we can solve it.

How?

Attend evening Mass tonight.

Stand at the pulpit and publicly confess

that you ordered the statue and that it was your blood.

But that's not all you'll say.

- Miss Newsome. - Miss Bloom.

Forgive my intrusion, but I must speak with you.

Sorry, I'm not feeling well.

I've come on behalf of Constable Higgins,

who's just sick about what happened that night...

Please don't mention it.

...when a body landed right in front of you.

You mentioned it.

It didn't have anything to do with him.

It was a sign from above.

Our love, it wasn't meant to be.

We're cursed.

Constable Higgins is nursing a broken heart.

He's still in love with you.

Even though his proposal wasn't perfect...

What proposal?

- His marriage proposal. - He was proposing marriage?

- He got down on one knee. - I thought he stumbled.

I mean, I stumble all the time.

Just the other week when I was...

He wants to marry me?

My second suitor in a year.

Good evening, everyone.

If I could beg your indulgence before Father McGray's sermon.

I have something I need to confess to you all.

I created a false miracle.

The Virgin Mary isn't crying tears of her own blood.

It's my blood.

You will ask, "Why?"

And I say to you...

...there is evil in this church.

There dwells within a sinner who must confess publicly.

I know that my actions will cause my excommunication,

but I will then be free to go to the authorities

with what I know.

Please, forgive me.

It's over.

Father.

I was protecting Miss Beattie.

She had a child out of wedlock, and that child died.

She buried him under the rosebushes two years ago,

but the guilt laid too heavily on her,

and she took her own life.

So you were going to kill Father Jennings

to keep her secret.

It meant so much to her in life.

It was an evil impulse, I know.

But I don't think I would've really gone through with it.

Do you think I will serve any time in prison?

I don't believe so.

Your sentence will most likely be hanging.

I beg your pardon?

Two years ago, Father Jennings,

while at St. Francis in Kitchener,

took a confession from a man

who admitted to fathering a child out of wedlock.

That man was a priest.

Poor tortured soul.

I believe the man in the confessional was you.

Well, it's not true.

He sent that statue in the hopes of scaring you

into confessing to the authorities.

The baby was yours, wasn't it?

She was a deeply troubled woman.

We found this note in the bell tower.

"I cannot live with myself

and this terrible secret any longer."

She was going to expose you, wasn't she?

We also found blood on the bell matching the wound on her head.

Did you?

This Virgin Mary miracle has unearthed

a lot of dark secrets for you, Father McGray.

Secrets that just won't rest.

Josephine knew you killed the baby and she was complicit.

She couldn't live with it any longer.

Her child deserved a proper burial.

But you couldn't do that,

and Josephine wouldn't keep quiet any longer.

So you killed her and planted this note

to make it appear as though it were a suicide.

Isn't that right?

I had to.

You did not.

I confessed before God.

Why wasn't that enough?

I can't believe that anyone

would fall for that miracle malarkey.

Still, I suppose some folk want to believe

there's something more out there.

Do you, Inspector?

Do I 'eck as like, Murdoch.

I believe in sleeping in on a Sunday morning,

followed by roast beef and Yorkshire pudding

Sunday afternoon.

That's all the comfort I need.

Higgins, there's all kinds of single ladies in Toronto.

All around the world, as a matter of fact.

I should travel the world

looking for a girl who'll have me?

That's your advice?

Well, I mean, you know, start in your own backyard.

As a matter of fact,

there's a local lady making her way over here right now.

I've told you I don't...

RuRu?

I'll make myself scarce.

Hello.

Ruth, I... I wasn't expecting you.

And I wasn't expecting to seek you out either.

Or to lose the hybrid tea rose competition

to Erma Birch last month.

Well, here we are.

I'm awful glad to see you.

Are you?

I was thinking...

I can't imagine meeting

a more honorable man than you, Henry Higgins,

and if we have suffered a mishap,

I suppose it shall only make us stronger.

Ruth, what are you saying?

That I must apologize to you.

I do hope you can forgive my cruelty.

You weren't cruel.

Henry...

There is one other thing that I must say to you.

What's that?

Will you marry me?

Y-Yes!

Yes!

Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?

Detective Murdoch,

I must tell you I was not pleased to learn

you had gone behind my back to examine the statue.

Yes. I'm sorry, Father.

Police business.

Nevertheless.

I'll go to confession.

Good day.

I suppose we'll soon be asking the bishop for a baptism.

William.

I've just gotten used to being with child.

Let's take one step at a time.

Is that Miss Hart?

Yes, I believe it is. How curious.

Well, she did tell me earlier that she's also a Catholic.

Perhaps it's not so strange that she'd be at the burial.

Well, that's odd.

She told me she wasn't religious at all.

Perhaps you misheard?

Perhaps I did.