Original subtitles

♪ ♪

ELIZA: You mean a great deal.

But I will not be dictated to.

I will have no master.

♪ ♪

WILLIAM: It's better for both of us

to leave things as they are for now.

Who does this revolver belong to?!

MONRO: Detective Fitzroy is the son of the police commissioner.

Are you saying that I cannot dismiss one of my own men, sir?

I am saying you're more than capable

of dealing with him, Inspector.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(thunder claps)

(whimpers)

(click)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Once again, I'm most grateful

you've given me your precious time

so that I may explain a little more about my profession

and how it may interest the ladies of your group.

It is not a group,

Miss Scarlet.

Group is a noun that conveys neither the purpose

nor the quality of our membership.

We are a cultural society.

The Bloomsbury Ladies Cultural Society.

Duly noted, Mrs. Parker.

As I was saying,

I would like to give a lecture to your...

...cultural society,

revealing the fascinating world of the private detective,

brought to life with stories from my own casebook.

My intention is to inspire your ladies.

I don't wish to sound boastful,

but I am the only female detective in London.

Which is no doubt the reason for the caliber of your clients.

The caliber of my clients?

It is our understanding that you are engaged by the desperate

and impoverished who cannot afford

to hire your male counterparts.

I can assure you I have had many clients

who are neither of those things.

Perhaps not, but I would wager that those clients

had cases that were deemed too lowly to be taken on elsewhere.

You are suggesting I am regarded as somehow second-rate?

I am merely pointing out that if we endorse you,

it may have implications for the reputation at the society.

I completely understand, Mrs. Parker.

Once a reputation is lost,

it is so very hard to get back.

Which is why you can rest assured, Mrs. Forbes,

that I will reveal to no one

the real reason your son left the Navy.

How dare you!

And you have my word, Mrs. Woodhouse,

that it will not be from me

that others hear of your late husband's gambling debts.

Which are, I believe, only exceeded by the money

he owed to the brothels of Canning Town.

(all gasp)

♪ ♪

(door opens)

So?

How did it go?

(door slams)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(man snoring, man coughing in distance)

Where is he?

(coins jingle)

This goes no further.

Understood? Understood.

Fitzroy.

Get up.

I said, get up! (Fitzroy gasps)

Look at the state of you, man.

(water splashes)

(Fitzroy gasping)

Look at me.

Fitzroy, look at me.

How many fingers?

Four.

No, it's three, it's three! It's three.

Is that a guess?

No!

I want you to listen carefully, Detective Fitzroy.

I don't give a damn what you do in your private life,

but when you're on duty, you turn up on time

in a fit state to work.

Now, I have been ordered to turn you into a competent

detective, and God help me, you will toe the line

and do as you're told.

Is that understood?

Good.

Clean yourself up, man.

ELIZA (voiceover): I could tell them till I was blue in the face

that I am hired on merit.

Would that make a difference? Course not.

Yes, I have taken on a few cases

which were not paying the full going rate,

but to suggest that it's because I'm a woman

and somehow desperate is simply not true.

Is it, Hattie?

Absolutely not true at all.

Although...

Although?

Although perhaps you should not have upset my aunt like that.

You do not want to make an enemy of her.

Well, I've suffered your aunt's wrath before

and lived to tell the tale.

Yes, but this is different.

You embarrassed her in front of her ladies

of the Cultural Society, her very best friends.

Well, I suppose it's nice to hear

that she actually likes somebody.

Oh, no, she loathes them.

But you must be on your guard, Eliza.

My aunt does have friends in high places,

and mark my words-- she will seek revenge.

Do any of these friends in high places

wear top hats?

SWAB: I do not know a Mrs. Parker.

I have come to see you on my own volition.

Oh, well, in that case...

How may I help you, Mr. Swab?

I am a partner at Swab & Durstin,

an insurance firm based in Holborn.

We provide cover for the lives and properties of our clients,

protecting them from all the slings and arrows

that life may throw.

In return for a monthly fee, they receive

an "insurance policy," which means...

I believe I understand how the insurance industry works,

Mr. Swab.

What is it I can do for you?

Last night, an item of considerable value was stolen

from one of our policy holders.

A sketch of the Ascalapha odorata,

or black witch moth,

drawn from life on the Galapagos Islands

in 1835. During Darwin's voyage?

Most of the Galapagos sketches

were drawn by the expedition's artist,

Conrad Martens, but this

was by Charles Darwin himself.

As you can imagine, the value of his artwork

has soared since his death earlier this year,

and as such, we are facing a significant payout.

Just to be clear, I will be charging the full going rate.

I would expect nothing less.

Good.

So tell me, Mr. Swab, where was this sketch stolen?

WILLIAM: So there's no sign of forced entry

and no other exhibits stolen.

Whoever did this knew what they were looking for.

But why go to the bother to take the sketch out of the frame?

What does this tell you?

When I ask you a question,

I expect an answer, Detective Fitzroy.

Yes, sir, um...

(exhales): You must learn to analyze a crime scene,

and that involves more than just taking notes.

Start using your initiative, man, eh?

The fact they didn't

take the frame means they had time.

There was no panic to snatch and grab, sir.

Good.

And what was it called again?

The moth.

Ascalapha odorata.

(sighs) Found in Central and South America.

It's believed by some Native cultures

to be a harbinger of death and destruction.

Miss Scarlet.

Inspector Wellington.

I take it this isn't a coincidence?

I've been hired by the insurance company

to investigate the theft of the Darwin sketch.

And what do they think I'm doing?

This may come as a surprise, Inspector Wellington,

but myself and my client did not discuss you.

We're done here.

We have other lines of inquiry to pursue.

Such as?

Am I to understand that you're asking for my help?

Already?

I am merely making polite conversation.

(chuckles)

Although, given the circumstances,

I can see how that can be misconstrued.

After all,

we are in competition, are we not?

(inhales)

The owner of the museum, Miss Hannah Garret.

Where would I find her?

Is this another request for help,

or are we still making polite conversation?

Detective Fitzroy.

Sir, are you and her... No.

And your handwriting's illegible.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

I'm afraid we are closed for the day.

We'll reopen in the morning. Miss Garret?

Yes.

My name is Miss Scarlet.

I'm here on behalf of your insurers.

It's standard practice for an insurance company

to carry out their own investigation.

And they sent a woman?

Meaning?

You would be better placed to gain my trust.

Do they really suspect

me of stealing the sketch myself?

I was sent, Miss Garret,

for no other reason than I am good at my job.

As, I'm sure, are you.

I am sorry if I was rude.

I run the museum on my own, and it is

an all-consuming venture.

It can make me tired, and... somewhat cynical.

So tell me about the theft.

It happened overnight.

There was no sign of a break-in,

nothing else was taken.

Whoever stole it knew the truth of the matter.

That the sketch was the only thing of real value here.

And how did you come to own the Darwin sketch?

(exhales)

I attended a lecture

he gave at the Royal Institution a few years ago.

I asked him a question on the inherited

characteristics of the black witch moth.

He was so modest, he admitted that he did not know.

But two weeks later, a package arrived

with a letter answering my question,

and the sketch he'd drawn on the Galapagos.

(chuckles)

Thomas was furious.

Thomas?

My husband, Thomas Dashwood.

The naturalist?

He has an impressive reputation.

Mm.

He used to encourage my passion for science,

but as my knowledge grew, so did his displeasure.

He wanted a pupil, not a partner.

When I set up the museum, he resented me for it.

Um, but you go by your, your maiden name of Garret?

You're divorced?

Separated.

I would divorce, but the cost,

both financial and otherwise...

Let's just say it is a high price to pay.

So where would I find your husband?

(knocks crate) DASHWOOD: Careful with that!

Just one of those is worth more than your yearly wage.

Sorry, sir, there's a lady here, um...

Mr. Dashwood?

My name is Eliza Scarlet.

DASHWOOD: Whoever you are,

it is customary to wait until invited in.

Sorry, sir.

How many times have I told you?

That maid must be dismissed.

Many times.

Forgive the intrusion, Mr. Dashwood, but I hoped you might

have a spare moment to talk?

(laughs): I most certainly do not.

I'm giving a lecture at the Royal Institution,

and yet again, I am behind schedule.

Take those out to the carriage.

(sighs)

It concerns your wife.

I am attempting to recover the Darwin sketch

that was taken... The sole intention of that woman

is to humiliate and antagonize me.

I've already spoken to the police,

and will not explain myself to you,

whoever the hell you are.

Mr. Dash... If you want to speak to me about my wife,

get yourself a lawyer.

You saw yourself in,

you can see yourself out.

I would say he's not normally like this,

but that would be a lie.

Who are you, exactly?

I am a private investigator.

So you're good with clues!

Ostentatiously lofty in style,

begins with the letter B.

Oh, a word puzzle, mm.

Makes the day go faster.

That and a bottle of schnapps. (laughs)

(coughing) Can I get you something?

(gasping softly): A new pair of lungs.

(coughing): Oh, thank you, thank you.

Mm, oh, please sit.

(coughs softly)

(puffing)

Oh, usually I receive a look of disdain when I light my pipe.

Mm, never quite sure whether

it is the fact that I am a lady and smoking,

or that I am an unwell lady and smoking.

Or it could be just that I'm German.

I've lived here for 50 years,

yet still treated like a foreigner. (chuckles)

I would wager it's all three of those things.

(chuckles)

A female private detective-- now, that is a puzzle.

Well, I've been employed by the insurance company to investigate

Miss Garret's Darwin sketch. Hm.

The last I heard, my daughter-in-law's name

was still Dashwood.

(chuckles)

But if you wish

to deal with my son, you'll have to have more assertiveness

than that, young lady.

He is...

Bombastic!

I beg your pardon?

Ostentatiously lofty in style-- bombastic.

Bombastic, yes!

It is a good job you are here, Miss Scarlet.

You finish it.

My son does not approve of my penchant for wordplay.

(clears throat): I believe

I shall take a nap.

Thank you.

I will have my maid see you out.

(coughing softly)

♪ ♪

(people talking in background)

(talking softly in background)

Sorry.

Excuse me.

Hattie...

What on Earth is going on?

I have no idea.

I just popped in to say hello

and I found them waiting outside.

They keep saying they found it, they found it.

Found what?

(people talking loudly)

They're all fakes.

You don't say.

(chuckles)

And why were they sent to your office?

The advert on the bottom of page five.

"Stolen: Sketch of the black witch moth

"by Mr. Charles Darwin.

"A reward of £1,000

"is offered for its safe return

to Miss Eliza Scarlet, 43 Ebury Lane, London."

It wasn't me who placed it.

The sketch is worth £500,

yet this offers twice that amount.

Unless, of course,

Miss Garret had a sentimental attachment to it.

Perhaps it was her that placed the advert.

Well, I doubt she has that kind of money.

And even if she did, why use my address

and not the museum's?

She's not my client, the insurance company are.

Which is curious in itself.

What is?

That the insurance company would hire you.

There must be a reason.

Because I'm good at my job, that's the reason.

All I meant is that they may suspect Miss Garret,

and they hired a woman

to gain her trust. (blows out)

Where are you going?

I'm coming with you.

Where am I going?

To reception.

I sent a message to someone we need to question.

He should've arrived by now.

Eliza, do I need to remind you that this is my place of work,

not yours? (sighs)

Who is it, anyway?

A journalist at "The Illustrated Police News."

(sighs)

Basil Sinclaire.

Oh, please God, not him.

The advertisement was placed anonymously.

We received a letter containing only the wording

and the required date of publication.

When was this?

Yesterday in the evening post, a little before 6:00.

As chief correspondent,

my editor, Mr. Smyth, came to me.

"Basil," he said, "no one knows more

"of Mr. Darwin and the natural sciences than you do.

"You must help the police

in their hour of need."

So the advert was placed before the robbery happened?

My heart soars at the prospect of our esteemed publication

being center stage of such an intriguing mystery.

It is not a mystery, Mr. Sinclaire, it is a theft.

There will be a perfectly rational explanation

to all of this.

Stolen artwork from the great Charles Darwin himself.

Scotland Yard forced, yet again, to turn

to the lady detective.

Miss Scarlet is not working for Scotland Yard.

ELIZA: I've been hired

by the insurance company,

who wish to carry out their own investigation.

My dear Miss Scarlet, I fear you may have proved my point.

Is it not precisely due

to a lack of faith in the police

that you were hired in the first place?

I am something of an expert

in the workings of the insurance industry.

Mr. Sinclaire, you must be an incredibly busy man,

given your expertise in so many fields.

(door opens)

As requested, sir, I've been perusing previous fraud cases.

I've secured a, an address for that art dealer.

Art dealer, you say?

And who might that be?

(door slams)

I'm gonna ask you a question,

and I want you to think very carefully before you answer.

Are you trying to make my life difficult?

Sir?

Never share your findings in front of anyone else but me.

Think before you speak-- in fact, better still,

don't speak at all unless I explicitly tell you to.

You're looking rather warm, detective.

Are you unwell?

No, sir.

Perhaps it's the clement weather we're enjoying at present.

Take my advice, Detective Fitzroy,

if you wish to fit in here, stop using words like "clement."

Yes, sir-- sorry, sir.

Stop apologizing every five minutes.

Alert my cab that I will be going to Bethnal Green.

(door closes)

Miss Scarlet.

Detective Fitzroy.

Well, get to it, man!

May I offer you some constructive criticism?

No.

At times, your manner could be a little more approachable.

Particularly with those who are your subordinate.

That nice young man looks like

he could do with the occasional "well done."

Have you ever been anyone's superior?

Apart from your housemaids?

No, but... Then please keep

your constructive criticism to yourself.

(door opens and closes)

This dealer you're going to see.

I'm assuming he's connected to the black market somehow?

Perhaps someone with

previous convictions for trading in stolen art.

Good, I'm right.

There's no expression you possess that I cannot read.

William, I know we're in competition,

but when all is said and done, we are on the same side.

The side of the law.

We're on the same side when it suits you.

And I don't trust you when you sound so noble.

Whoever placed this advert

knew exactly when the sketch was going to be stolen.

I'd like to go back to the museum and speak

to Miss Garret again, and I suspect you would, too.

We'd save ourselves time if we shared our resources.

You speak to this dealer, I'll go to the museum,

and we'll meet up later to share our findings.

No.

Very well.

Then perhaps I'll team up with our journalist friend

and share my observations with him.

And not just about the case, but

wider stories, too, like the time you were drunk on duty

and lost your warrant card.

How the hell do you find these things out?

People speak to me.

It's my warm and approachable manner.

(sighs)

Fine.

(horse trotting, carriage clattering)

GARRET: You are being ridiculous! Why would I do such a thing?

DASHWOOD: To claim the money from the insurance

and prop up your failing business. (Garret scoffs)

GARRET: It is not failing!

DASHWOOD: There are leaks in the roof,

paint peeling from the walls, and exhibits falling to pieces!

You cannot afford to run this place,

but you're too stubborn to sell it!

I will expose you for what you are. (exhales)

A thief. (hits table)

Get out! Now!

(door closes)

(people calling, piano playing)

(door closes, conversations muffle)

(door opens, people talking in background)

(door closes)

(bells chiming hour)

GIBSON: I deal in legitimate

works of art sold with full provenance.

In fact, Inspector,

I am insulted that you would even ask.

My apologies, Mr. Gibson.

I assumed that a man with 12

convictions for handling stolen goods and three

for fraud might be the right person to talk to.

(exhaling): That was all in my past.

I'm a changed man.

Your last conviction was six weeks ago.

So perhaps you can, uh, think back

through the mists of time to your criminal past

and come up with some names for me to talk to.

There's no one I can think of. (chuckles)

All of these things are, uh...

What was your phrase?

"Legitimate works of art with full provenance"?

They are.

Well, in that case, I shall have to check that is so.

You'll have to be kept in custody in the meantime.

Now I think about it, there is one person comes to mind.

(sighs): I thought there might be.

(chuckling): Yeah, this is the man you want.

He deals in specialist works of art,

like the one that was stolen.

But I don't know his real name.

Just what they call him.

The Count?

(piano playing, people talking in background)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Why are you following me?

I wasn't following you.

I lost my way.

You were watching me in the tavern.

Now... (gun cocks)

Tell me who you are or I will shoot you in the head.

No, you will not.

Why is that, then?

Because there's a police officer standing behind you.

(chuckles)

Do you think I'm an idiot?

(gun cocks)

Yes, since you ask.

(people laughing and talking in background)

Was Miss Garret trying to sell you the Darwin sketch?

I know nothing of this sketch you speak of.

But I suggest you tread very carefully.

And why is that, exactly?

Because I'm a Buzansky.

My family

is one of the oldest dynasties in Hungarian nobility.

Am I supposed to be impressed?

(chuckles)

I'm merely warning you that I have influential friends.

I suggest you answer the question.

Or Inspector Wellington here

will take your leg

and use it for firewood.

(piano playing in background)

No, Miss Garret was not selling,

she was trying to buy.

But I told her I do not have it.

That conversation seemed to take an awfully long time.

That is because she did not believe me at first.

She thought I was bargaining.

She had no money to offer,

only a few exhibits from the museum.

Worthless, mostly.

The woman is desperate,

so I told her if I heard anything,

I would let her know.

And have you heard anything?

Not a word.

Getting rather, uh, chilly in here.

Wouldn't you agree, Miss Scarlet?

Mm.

I think perhaps the fire might need a little help.

(chuckles)

Very well.

I have heard

one or two things.

About Miss Garret?

About her husband.

They say he pays extremely well,

no questions asked.

You want to find that sketch?

I know where I would be looking.

I'll go to a magistrate first thing

and get a warrant to search Dashwood's house.

Good, I'll meet you there.

The man is difficult enough

without any added irritation.

Oh, so I'm an irritation now, am I?

I merely meant it's better to keep things simple.

You will wait for me to contact you

with an update on how the search went.

And that is my final word on the matter.

Final word.

And if I find the sketch, then I will

make sure that your employers know

your part in the investigation

and you will still receive your fee.

Unless this is more about your ego.

Do you really wish to talk about ego?

Sir.

There's a Dutch gentleman, a Mr. Loman,

waiting for you in your office.

He'd like to discuss the Darwin case.

Mr. Loman.

(door closes) Ah.

LOMAN: From Loman and Holst.

The company who insured the stolen picture.

No, the insurance firm is

Swab & Durstin.

Hm. Here.

See, I was visited by one of the partners.

I have never heard of such company.

Describe the man you met.

Uh...

Small in stature. Hm?

A Welsh accent, top hat.

And he had a slight birthmark on his forehead.

Whoever he is, he does not work for

my company.

Well, if he didn't hire me, then who did?

(people talking in background)

HATTIE: Why would this man

give you a card for a business that does not exist?

It does not make any sense.

Hattie, it's always nice to see you,

but you really cannot keep popping in like this.

I am extremely busy, so...

And it's a very nice card to boot.

The velvet texture,

the subtle but bold embossing.

My father was in the ink business,

and there is nothing that comes close to my passion

than a well-chosen font.

Oh, well, then, perhaps you could help me.

I need to find out who ordered these cards.

♪ ♪

Hattie?

You want me to help you?

You mean like an assistant?

Uh...

Yes, if you like.

I will take you to

every stationer's in town, Eliza.

And on the way, I shall explain

the 12 types of calligraphy.

I can hardly wait.

(horse snorts)

(horse neighing)

♪ ♪

Well?

What's the matter with her?

Sir.

What is it now?

What the hell is this?

We have a warrant to search these premises, sir.

My mother is extremely ill, and you come

marching into my home... We were let in by your maid.

(inhales sharply)

I have said

all I have to say on this matter.

You have no just cause to be here!

Mr. Dashwood, I would request that you

control your temper, sir.

(thuds heavily)

(under breath): Christ.

Fitzroy.

Fitzroy!

What on Earth is going on here?

♪ ♪

(door closing in distance, people whispering in background)

(breathes deeply)

MONRO: Ah, Wellington.

(door closes) How are we?

Fine, thank you, sir.

How's young Fitzroy getting on?

Uh...

Actually, sir, he's, uh...

(coughs softly)

He's doing very well.

Glad to hear it.

The commissioner asked me to check in on him.

Is he around?

Not at the moment, sir.

He is out assisting me on the Darwin investigation.

But you're happy with his progress, yes?

He still has a lot to learn, but yes.

Overall, good progress.

Good.

Glad to hear it-- I'll let his father know.

Keep up the good work.

(exhales)

HATTIE: I am acting as consultant

to Miss Scarlet's

extremely important investigation,

given my considerable expertise

in the business of stationery.

I do not boast when I say

that I have an encyclopedic knowledge of

embossing, calligraphy, kerning,

and the jewel in the crown of any calling card,

the font. (chuckles)

My particular favorite... Miss Parker.

Was this card made on these premises?

One moment, please.

Hattie, may I ask you be

more economical with your conversation?

Economical?

Keep quiet.

We sold a book last week.

Do you remember who to?

Mr. Reginald Booth.

(horses neighing)

(picks clanking)

(lock releasing)

(door closes)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(door closes)

I'm Inspector Wellington-- I understand

you wish to speak with me.

I am here on behalf of my clients,

the Dashwood family.

I am their legal counsel,

and as such, Mr. Thomas Dashwood

has asked me to relay the sad news of

the passing of his mother.

My condolences.

Mrs. Dashwood has been ill for some time,

so it is not completely unexpected, but still

a terrible blow to her son.

Mm.

As you can imagine, he is stricken with grief

and requests that you desist

from harassing him any further.

Does he now?

Furthermore, he has asked me

to point out that he is a man of wealth

who could fund the most thorough of legal challenges.

So, I would advise

that any future communications

come directly through

myself.

I bid you good day, sir.

Is that a Welsh accent I detect, Mr. Booth?

I fail to see the relevance.

And is it not customary

to remove one's hat when indoors?

I am a busy man

with many other appointments to attend, Inspector.

You offend me, sir.

Kindly take it off.

This is quite ridiculous.

My cab is waiting outside...

Either you take off your hat

or I'll take it off for you.

♪ ♪

(chuckles)

I believe you know an associate of mine.

Miss Scarlet?

(door creaks open, closes)

(horse snorts)

♪ ♪

(neighs)

♪ ♪

(clock pendulum swinging)

(drawer opens)

(footsteps approaching)

♪ ♪

(picks clanking)

Well.

It seems you are who you claim to be.

Mr. Reginald Booth,

a solicitor of 28 Westerly Row.

So tell me why you were impersonating a Mr. Swab,

who works for a bogus insurance firm.

I deny any such accusation,

and furthermore would ask if I am under arrest.

If so, you have failed to mention it.

You're free to go at any time, Mr. Booth.

Just as I'm free to go to the Law Society

and report you for fraud.

(exhales)

I have worked for the Dashwood family for some years.

At first for Mr. Dashwood's late father,

then latterly for Mr. Dashwood himself.

I am paid for my diligence

and compliance.

You mean you do what you're told.

I do my best for my clients, yes.

And what interest did Thomas Dashwood have

in Miss Scarlet?

It was not Thomas Dashwood who told me to visit her.

(floorboards creaking, footsteps tapping softly)

♪ ♪

(softly): The Temple of Karnak.

(chuckles)

WILLIAM: So, old Mrs. Dashwood

was an intrepid explorer.

But very much left out of the history books.

I've done some research,

and there's no mention of her

among the otherwise male archaeology team.

The lawyer said when her family married her off

to a rich, much older English husband,

he insisted that she stay at home

and behave more appropriately.

I can see why she liked you.

Then, when her husband died,

she hoped to rekindle

her passion for the natural sciences,

but her son was a chip off the old block.

He didn't want her tainting his own career.

Something he tried to inflict on his wife, too.

If Mrs. Dashwood is the one

that got that journalist Sinclaire involved,

then she clearly wanted to create a story.

But as yet, I,

I can't quite work out her plan.

It's a puzzle.

Ah, it certainly is.

No, I mean,

it is a puzzle.

The discovery of the Karnak King List

was famous for the race to find it.

It involved deciphering maps,

hieroglyphic riddles.

How Mrs. Dashwood loved a riddle.

When I met her, she was trying to

complete a word game.

I helped with a clue.

Well, maybe the enigmatic Mrs. Dashwood

died before her puzzle

came to fruition.

(yawning): It's late,

we should pick this up in the morning.

I'll see you home.

A seven-letter puzzle.

Anagram.

♪ ♪

Exactly.

I think I know where the Darwin sketch is.

(people talking in background)

ELIZA: Am I right

in thinking your mother-in-law

was fond of you, Miss Garret?

She was the only one in that family

who ever treated me with kindness.

She came here many times,

much to the annoyance of her son.

Is it possible that on one of those visits

she could have taken a spare set of keys?

Perhaps copied and then replaced them?

Are you suggesting that it was my mother-in-law

who had stolen from me?

We are, but with a good intention.

SINCLAIRE: I trust this is not a tale of kindness.

I know better than most the goodness of human nature

from my own philanthropic works,

however, a story of solidarity and compassion

is rather a difficult sell.

Well, if you would just

give Miss Scarlet a moment to explain,

Mr. Sinclaire.

Mrs. Dashwood's lawyer hired me using the name of

a bogus insurance company.

GARRET: Swab & Durstin.

Mrs. Dashwood had a fondness for translation and wordplay.

The name "Swab & Durstin" is an anagram.

For "Darwin's bust."

♪ ♪

(both gasp)

♪ ♪

(exhaling happily)

My cup runneth over.

Mrs. Dashwood hoped this story would

generate publicity for the museum

to bring in the crowds for you.

It's a story of a woman

trying to make it in a man's world.

A female detective investigating her along the way.

And a cunning trail laid by a brilliant lady

who wasn't allowed to be brilliant in life.

Your mother-in-law wanted to help you,

Miss Garret.

(voice trembling): I do not know what to say.

(softly): Tut, tut, tut.

You need find no words, Miss Garret,

for Basil Sinclaire shall find them for you.

Mm.

(softly): Thank you.

It's my pleasure.

When the story's published,

Miss Garret will find business booming.

They'll be queuing out the door.

Much to her husband's dismay.

Oh, William, I hate to admit it, but you were right.

(laughs): Was I?

How so?

When you said it was curious

that the insurance company would have hired me.

Come on, let us not dwell on

what I have or have not said.

It never ends well.

I'm merely pointing out that what you said was true.

It was only because I'm a woman

that I got the case.

So?

So I want to be hired for being good at what I do,

not because I wear a bonnet.

Eliza, there is no escaping that you are a woman,

just like there is no escaping that I'm a man.

I'm also Scottish,

young enough to say that I'm still only 30,

old enough to know better.

And these are all things that I use to my advantage

when it suits.

(chuckling): How do you use being Scottish to your advantage?

Well, there's nothing like a drunken Scot to deceive

a overconfident idiot at the poker table.

Especially a Glaswegian who apparently can't hold his wine.

(chuckles)

What I'm trying to say is,

use what you have to your advantage.

Just like anyone else does, man or woman.

It is no more complex than that,

so do not make it so.

Right, I must leave.

I don't want to be stuck with Mr. Sinclaire.

There's something in his manner

that gives me the urge to punch him.

(laughs) Inspector.

Might I trouble you for a ride back to the office?

And on the way, I can regale you

with my retelling of this rather

delicious story.

(door slams in distance)

♪ ♪

Spoke with your doctor.

He said you'll be fine.

He also said you were lucky.

Your heart rate was dangerously erratic.

It could kill you if it happens again.

I didn't tell him my suspicions

as to what might have caused it.

Collapsing in front of a suspect

was unforgivable, sir.

I assume you're going to

inform Superintendent Monro of my behavior.

And why would I do that, exactly, huh?

Anything that you do,

it is me who has to answer for it!

It's me whose head is on the block!

In his quest to make something of his son,

my father has sought help

in a long line of institutions.

Among them his old boarding school,

and then his beloved Sandhurst,

and even a short spell in the Navy.

And how did they fare?

I was relentlessly bullied,

and, and they only served

to cement my father's opinion that...

That I am an embarrassment to our family.

And the police force is, uh,

unfortunately for me, his last hope.

It is a burden indeed

to know that your own father despises you.

And the opium has gone some way

in providing me with some relief.

All I had growing up was a daily beating

in the workhouse.

We all have our scars, Fitzroy.

If it's sympathy you're after, don't look to me.

Of all the men whose command I have been under, you...

You are the most decent man of all of them.

And that is why I will do

whatever it takes to make you proud of me, sir.

(chuckles)

So what do you suggest?

Put me on administration duty, sir.

I'd be good at that.

I'm extremely organized.

I know I can be a decent detective.

I just need some time to learn the basics.

Well, that's a decision, then.

You come in on time, ready to work,

and we'll take it from there.

Thank you. sir.

I will not let you down.

There is one more thing, Detective.

Yes, sir?

Get a bloody haircut.

Consider it done, sir.

(children laughing, people calling)

Miss Scarlet!

Mrs. Parker,

what a nice surprise.

Never have I been so humiliated

in front of my ladies.

What you did was unforgivable.

And I'm sorry for it.

My intention was not to humiliate you.

But I did not throw the first stone.

And the accusations you made-- abhorrent!

Accusations based on truth.

I will use every ounce of my influence

to destroy you and your little

private investigation business.

I will have my retribution to my full satisfaction

and see you ruined, Miss Scarlet.

These and other thoughts

ran through my head after you left.

So you do not think them now?

I did a little research of my own.

It appears your accusations were... correct.

So...

Given you have proven your resourcefulness,

I wish to engage you in another matter.

These are the gentleman I have selected

as potential husbands for my niece.

As yet, she has had no offers of marriage

and is not getting any younger.

In fact, I believe she is

the exact same age as you, Miss Scarlet.

So...

I would like a complete dossier

on each candidate,

and then I can make my choice as to their suitability.

You wish to hire me?

Good day.

(laughs)

I'm confused, Mrs. Parker.

You declared my clients

to be either desperate or impoverished,

unable to pay the going rate.

Yet you wish to be a client now?

I can assure you I am neither of those things,

and I am willing to pay the full fee.

Well, then, why me?

Why not go to one of my male counterparts?

There is a very good reason I came to you

and no one else.

You are the only private investigator I know.

And it is no more complex than that.

(chuckles) (door opens and closes)

Do not make it so, Eliza.

♪ ♪

(click)

(knocks on window)

PHELPS: Miss Scarlet? You're under arrest.

I'm no thief.

THACKERY: I want that woman charged without delay.

MONRO: Gone? Gone where?

We both know she's innocent.

IVY: God knows what danger she's in.

Find her.

Where you going? To solve the case.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

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♪ ♪