All language subtitles for RippMen of Smoke

These are bite marks, Reid.

Isaac did not do this thing.

The true killer is still walking
the streets you once knew as home.

Please, please, Connor.
It is for the best.

A song, Rose. He likes a song.

- It is a song, Bennet.
- No, Rose.

You think you can hide such
a truth from me. You cannot!

And the man, Bloom, that matter is shut.

_

Thomas Gower, you will be
taken to the gallows at Newgate.

You get him away, far away.

- Go!
- _

- Oh, he can fight,
- _

- make no mistake of that.
- _

You're saving me?

Where you go to, all you've yet known
will seem no more than a Sunday fair.

Tanner!

Yes, yes!

Work. Work with him.

- Tanner!
- Charlie, my boy, run!

Tanner, cross it. I'm here!

Tanner, now!

Tanner!

Tanner!

That was mine, you greedy wanker.

Come on, Will. We got
the goal, didn't we?

You got it.

Now, I know it ain't
mint juleps at the Savoy

or waltzing at the Holborn, but...

I figured it was the next best thing.

Maybe go easy on the waltzing.

Thank you for this, Matthew.

You know I can't abide a caged bird.

Ain't it always been this, though,

life in the shadows,

world shaking its sweet
glitter just out of reach.

- We've got to get out of here.
- I know.

What, Matthew?

You know that I'd throw the dice with
you any day, Caitlin. You know that.

Me and you, we run
till the stars burn out.

For better or worse, we chose this life.

But the boy, he didn't.

This ain't the life I want for Connor.

With Drake, the boy has a home.

He's safe.

- He's loved.
- I love him.

We will go to the
ends of Earth, Matthew,

so far that no one
will ever come looking.

This isn't just you and me anymore.

We are a family, and I will
not leave without my son.

I hear you, darling.

What business, sirs?

Are you foreman here?

Felix Hackman, and who asks it?

This way.

Charlie Tanner, he work for you?

He does.

Except he's late today.

Mr. Hackman, Charlie Tanner is dead.

He's, ah...

Charlie?

Found in his room beaten with a hammer.

- He was well known to you?
- Well enough.

Took on Charlie Tanner
some 10 years past.

He was a muckscrap, a street run,

filching pockets and sucking
gin like it was mother's milk.

These ironworks forged a man of him.

And do you often recruit such
muckscraps to your foundry?

We take in all sorts at the ironworks,

give them purpose, discipline, teach
them honest work and temperance.

-Temperance?
- Oh, I insist on it, sir.

None of my boys is weak
for grape nor grain.

They live, work, sport as men of iron.

You train the
football team here?

I do.

I've seen your boys play. Reckon
they might take the league this year.

Yeah.

St. Sebastian?

Patron Saint of athletes.

Didn't watch over
Charlie, though, did he?

Charlie Tanner was my best
ironsmith and my best player.

Would all these men
speak so highly of him?

Groups of young men are
seldom without their grudges

and rivalries, Mr. Hackman.

None of my boys would do in Charlie.

He was their brother.

He was a hero in this foundry.

Even so, we will need to speak to them.

You heard the Inspector.

Any of you know ought
that might help him?

Them gasworks bastards.

- Yeah. That's right.
- What's that, lad?

- The gasworks, they've always hated us.
- Yeah, truth, true.

We beat them every time,
then they try to batter us.

Me and Charlie get it the
worst for being the best.

Wren's right. We played the
gasworks athletic yesterday.

There was a fracas.

You'd do well to bang
up all them animals.

Yeah,
that's right. All true.

All right. Back to work.
Iron don't forge itself.

Here, a register of names.

And that lad who spoke up just now?

Yeah, Wilbur Wren.

Gower.

Thomas Gower.

Not an uncommon name, Thomas Gower.

True enough.

Why should the Gower we
knew, who killed as a boy

and only escaped the rope by
our mercy, return to Whitechapel.

Whitechapel has as a way of drawing
back those who thought it left behind,

does it not, Mr. Reid?

Thomas Gower?

Sir.

It is you.

I wasn't sure you'd recall me.

Oh, I recall you often,

wondering if you'd thank me or curse
me for putting you on that ship,

whether the Army had
made you or destroyed you.

Lance Corporal Gower, Sergeant.

British South Africa Company.

We're a long way from South Africa.

Honourable discharge,
even gave me a medal.

Stepped off a steamer
not three months past.

Thought to call on you, but
I needed work and lodgings.

Which you found, I see. Honest work.

What you done for me,

both of you, sirs, it changed me.

I'm not how I was no more.

Let us hope so.

The man ain't the boy.

You should be proud of yourself, lad.

Was Charlie Tanner a friend of yours?

Not so much.

Football all stick with their own.

He was decent, though, Charlie Tanner.

I hope you do right by him.

Now, I'm gonna go out on a limb here,

and say Tanner was
maybe killed by a hammer,

you know, to the head.

Ah, some days, I can't
believe they pay me for this.

Thatcher, get to the gasworks.

I want a list of names on the football
team and everyone watching the match.

Yes, sir.

This hammered footballer, have
you used your fingerprint method?

Yeah, I'm getting to it.

Better school up, Reid.

There's always the chance
I tell the head of division

to shove his forensicating up his
sanctimonious self-righteous ass.

Jackson, we had an agreement.

Sang a song to my boys, huh?

At the insistence of your goddamn wife.

I made it clear to you this
discussion was concluded.

Don't worry, Benito. I
ain't getting any ideas.

Just do your job, man.

I miss the days we
used to push him around.

He was in my house with the boy,
and with my wife, unbeknownst to me,

after he had made a vow
to leave the little one be.

I do not disagree that the
American possesses an abundance

of odious qualities. My
concern is only that his skill

should remain an instrument to us.

Connor may be Jackson's flesh and blood,

but he is now my responsibility.

And I will not see the
child confused and disturbed.

As I said, Mr. Drake, my concern is
that antagonism between the two of you

little serves our work here.

Well, I thank you for your counsel

on the running of both my
police station and my family.

Yes?

That'll be all, Mr. Reid.

Take a seat. Come.

There's things I...

things you should
hear, Sergeant, but I...

I could not speak out at the factory.

Well, you may speak in
this room as you like, lad.

I ain't a snitch. I've never been a snitch.

I remember.

Charlie and Wilbur Wren, see?

Ah, they played on the team
together, both strikers, but...

they was at each other always.

And Wilbur hated being
in Charlie's shadow.

He's good, see, but
Charlie was always better.

And at the gasworks
game, it all went off.

Wilbur went for Charlie like an animal.

And now Charlie's gone.

Wilbur ain't in his shadow no more.

He'll be skipper of the Ironworks.

Hackman spoke nought of this.

All Hackman cares about is the team.

He lives for it.

Send a constable. I want
Wilbur Wren brought in.

Thomas, thank you.

Wait, lad.

Ah, my wife is cooking
pie tonight, pigeon.

And, um, well, we've room at
our table, if you're hungry.

Thank you, Mr. Drake.

One, two, three, four.

There's no mention of mulberry
silk in your manifest, Abel.

Well, some things do not
need manifesting, old girl.

Liberated, is it?

From Her Majesty's customs
house to the House of Croker?

Wish me to have a gown cut for you?

I might.

How do you do it, Abel?

Do you simply send Nathaniel here

over to the warehouse on Cutler
Street with a note of request?

The Queen's duty must be paid
on all imports, must it not?

Quite so.

What else languishes there,
waiting that tax to be paid?

What else might be matched to my gown?

Gloves, shoes, jewellery?

Never you mind, my girl.

Oh, come, Abel. It is only curiosity.

No, princess.

With you it is never only nothing.

Put that cat's nose of yours away.

Nate, see this is
parked from prying eyes.

Thought I might join you a
moment, watch the sun go down.

Call it skimming, I believe.

I shan't tell.

Besides, I can't see
him punishing you for it.

He loves you altogether
too much for that.

Made me his own.

There's nothing before him.

Would have died without his care.

That is love, Nathaniel.

I would be dead without his care also.

You pay him, however.

You return that love.

I have watched all you do for him.

No son could ever do more.

It is you gains access to
the customs house, is it not?

That is some skill.

I wonder might you show me?

Show me how you manage
what no other can.

Show me just how brave
and quick-witted you are.

Three months I was besieged, men, women,

kiddies, starving, dying.

Where was the relief?

Well, we was stationed
out on the Transvaal, see?

Hundreds of miles we roamed...
hostile country, swamp, dune,

but we reached Bulawayo, we did.

Gunned the lot of them to the hills.

Stamped on their mat bellies like rats.

Queen and country.

Thank you, Mrs. Drake.

I never did smell a pie so good.

Thomas, would you care for some wine
with your pie? Or a beer, perhaps?

The lad's teetotal, Rose.

All of us at the factory, Mrs. Drake.

Temperance or else.

How do you like the ironworks?

I like it good enough, sir.

But I wanna learn a trade, see?

Soldiering, it's, ah... well, it's
killing people. It ain't helping them.

You helped them people that
were sieged in Bulawayo.

Only by killing.

I, er... I-I wanna be a... a useful man.

I've been helping at the
orphanage, Miss Deborah stays,

odd jobs and that.

- She must be very proud of you, Thomas.
- I hope.

Miss Deborah's always been kind to me.

She's closest to a ma I ever had.

- Bennet.
- Leave the boy, Rose.

Forging iron's honest work.

- What about policing, Thomas?
- Excuse me.

You're a Whitechapel boy, same as me.

Raised on these black streets and
saved from them by the Army, same as me.

- Mr. Drake, sir, I'm not...
- You'd work your way

from the bottom, as did I. But
look where I've worked to, eh?

Why should you not work thus also?

Men like you, I could
police this borough clean.

Mr. Drake, please, I'm not...

I do not think I'm made for policing.

You are made of stronger stuff
than you know, Thomas Gower.

You think on it.

Rise and shine, Wilbur Wren.

I've been looking for you everywhere.

I swear I paid for 'em this time.

What chance of tincture for my head?

It feels like a French toilet.

No chance,
boy. Not a ghost of one.

Charlie Tanner was a sanctimonious prick

with his nose right up Hackman's ass.

I hated him, but I never killed him.

You attacked him on the pitch,
busted his nose, so I hear.

Horseplay.

Horseplay?

And going to his place afterwards

to finish the job with a hammer,
that horseplay too, was it?

Heck no. I went to a gin shop.

Then I went home,
just me and the bottle.

Bottle is poor alibi.

It's only on the bottle-hugger's
word I'm here, ain't it?

You think I don't know it
was Gower what burgled to you?

You said bottle-hugger.

I might like a drop or two, but Gower,

Gower's a royal class
steam-powered pisshead.

Thomas Gower is a decorated
lancer corporal, boy,

and you'll show some respect.

Never shuts his bloody
gob about it either,

what he done in the Army.

Gower the hero?

Who cares?

He might be decorated,
don't make him sober.

Yeah, no dice.

I'm not gonna be able to
get a clean print off that.

I want Jackson to take
a look at Tanner's room.

My money says Wren was there.

And what does your money say, Reid?

You heard the man. Get to your work.

Charlie Tanner was found here, huh?

Your wizardry ever astounds.

There's a doctor,
Piotrowski. He's a Polack.

He has a theory that you can analyse

the pattern of a spatter
or reconstruct the trauma.

And does it work?

Hard to say. His research
was mostly beatin'

rabbits to death and
looking at the mess.

Photographs here, here, here,

and... here.

- Oof!
- What?

Now, remember, Charlie
Tanner wasn't a drinker.

Liver I pulled out of
him, pink as a baby's.

On account of which,
he had a house guest.

Take a huff.

Cheap gin and piss.

Temperance my ass.

Tanner weren't a
drinker. Wilbur Wren was.

Not only Wren.

And it wasn't Wilbur Wren to
whom Tanner would offer his bed.

Mr. Drake, you cannot
overlook Thomas Gower's past.

No man deserves to be
judged on what he was.

It is the one hope we have
to make ourselves better.

I only suggest that Thomas Gower may not
have been as forthcoming as you suppose.

Your suggestion is duly noted.

Hey, Thatcher, once these two
are done swinging their handbags,

bring the camera.

Whoa, wait, wait, wait.

Is your boy Wren missing
a shirt, or your boy Gower?

This Miss Castello?

Yes. Just here.

Really, it was as if he believes
I might shatter into pieces

by letting him take me in his arms.

Your strong sergeant, he is
altogether too well-mannered.

He considers such manners
virtuous, I believe.

Well, perhaps it is for you
to take an axe to that virtue.

Deborah, good morning.

Miss Reid, hello.

Good morning, Miss Goren.

I find myself somewhat adrift
from own my family, Mathilda.

And so dear Deborah adds me to the
tally of those to whom she brings care.

She does not eat. Someone must make her.

Miss Rachel, I think,
I must be about my day.

But again, I'm grateful
for your counsel.

You're entirely welcome, Mathilda.

What, Deborah?

She's 19, and lives
alone with her father,

and has met her first
darling boy. A policeman also,

- if you believe that.
- I believe it.

I believe you're also only
too keen to win her friendship,

given the identity of her father.

Do you know Mr. Reid still keeps a copy
of the Ratovski case file in his home.

It seems your Isaac Bloom still
weighs heavy upon his conscience.

And this you established through
the manipulation of the daughter.

I think you must leave Mathilda Reid

- be, Rachel.
- Deborah.

You do not know the half
of what she has suffered.

If you want to be her friend,
then you be her friend,

but I will not see her used.

Then I am sorry.

Forgive me, Deborah.

Forgive me.

But I wonder, might you help me?

They are from Paris.

They are Ratovski's diaries.

Wren says that the shirt ain't his.

Ain't that a kick in the head.

- Drake still makes Wren for this, huh?
- He does.

But you don't buy it.

I know that look on you.

Perhaps your Piotrowski and
his blood spatter patterning

will settle it one way or another.

Maybe.

But I'm gonna need me some rabbits.

The ironworks.

Mr. Hackman.

Mr. Hackman.

Inspector, have you come to
cart off more of my players?

Eliot, trap it first.

You spend every lunchtime thus?

Most days.

Good for the boys, let
off steam, oil the joints.

Remember, the team achieves
higher than the man.

We used to be employed thus, at
this factory, in a team, I mean.

The division of labour
left to our judgement,

the spoils, ours to
divide as we saw fit.

Those days are gone.

Trying to break the
union are them bosses.

Prise apart the worker from his fellows.

But this, the football, they
can't take that away from us.

You diagram fastidiously, sir.

Tactics, the inner workings of the game.

My old man was a watchmaker.

Every night, fingers
at springs and cogs,

assembling and correcting.

Never had the skill for it.

These are anvil hands.

But he tried to school
me, he did, my pa.

Taught me about Isaac Newton,

who thought the universe
entire, one vast clockwork,

wound on God's own crankshaft.

And you find this sport,
these men to be as cogs?

I merely find they are the best
of themselves at work harmonious.

And Thomas Gower, how does he
fit into such work harmonious?

I don't see him here.

Gower, sacked him this morning.

- For?
- Turned up stinking of booze again.

A man who can not control himself
makes weak his every fellow.

Gower chose the bottle over the hammer,

forever bragging lies
about his military record.

Medals my arse.

Right, right. Gather in.

I need you to retrieve the
military record of Thomas Gower.

With the authority of
Inspector Drake, sir?

With my authority, Drummond.

Um, forgive me, Inspector.
I didn't mean disrespect.

I appreciate your
fastidiousness, Sergeant.

I shall tell my daughter to add it to
her list of your favourable qualities.

Ooh, I do hope you enjoy your stroll
together in Victoria Park this Sunday.

He gave him a long drink
of milk and some bread.

And then she laid her hand on his
head, and looked into his eyes.

For she thought perhaps
that he might be her son,

come back from the jungle,
where the tiger had taken him.

You go. I'll finish the story.

Mr. Drake. Sir, I beg
pardon for the hour.

What is it, Thomas?

I was laid off at the
ironwork, see, and...

I lack a penny for a bed, sir.

And I hoped you might... small loan
that is, it's just a penny or two.

You've been drinking, lad?

No, sir.

No, Sergeant. I...

Come inside. Come on.

It's not right, Bennet.

Keep your voice down, girl.

He stinks, like a brewer's floor.

He is my guest.

I don't want him near Connor.

I'm trying to mother a
child who will not have me.

And you, his father, invites
a known murderer into our home!

I saved the boy from the rope.

I sent him to war.

There's...

I have an obligation to see him right.

Coffee.

Drink it up.

Thomas,

the booze?

What about it?

You know the factory don't allow it.

Well, I lost that job anyways.

It's cheaper elsewhere, ain't it?

The north,

money first, men second.

Men's lives thrown away like peelings.

And in that factory,
we made the warships,

and them ships throw away men's
lives too with cannon and shell.

Relax. Just slow down, please.

Help me understand.

When you soldiered, you shot
rifles, pistols, swung a blade.

You killed. I know it.

But you never saw Maxim machine gun.

- No, boy. I did not.
- Well, I did, Sergeant.

We had Maxim guns. Whoa!

We had 'em plenty.

Fired your rifle, did ya?

I seen a dozen guns
spit 600 rounds a minute,

fire and thunder what
would split this world.

I seen a thousand men fall.

Not fall but...

shred.

I seen men torn and splintered
into meat with one trigger,

a valley made a butcher's floor.

- Thomas.
- I recall...

when I was a boy, you showed me a tattoo

done by an holy man, you
said, out in the desert,

ink that you might sleep, forget
the things you done at war.

Yeah.

All that lets me sleep
is found in a bottle.

And I am yet to find a
bottle deep and silent enough.

So don't you preach to
me of bloody temperance.

Thomas.

You stay here tonight, eh?

We'll talk more in the morning.

I will help you, lad.

I will find a way.

How, Sergeant?

How?

This way, Miss Susan.

The customs house is close above us now.

Hold,

- what is that?
- Huh?

The river, the tide.

No, no. It's, ah, it's
the Bazalgette sewer.

Miss Susan, oil of camphor, please.

- Wine cellars, you said.
- Come, come, come.

Come, it's straight here. Ahead, now.

Nathaniel, the strong
room, what is within?

Never gone no further.

Why?

Abel Croker's say so.

Here, too much to be missed.

But there, beyond that
barricade, treasure.

Gold?

Barricaded for a reason.

The guard station is unmanned.

They do patrol, however.

Miss Susan!

Miss Susan, please. Please, they come.

Miss Susan!

We leave now.

Boy, I knew you for a
cretin, but a turncoat too?

Wish our lives here to
come tumbling to an end,

- do you?
- No, Abel, Abel,

you beat anyone, you beat me!

Think I will not take my
belt to you? Do you test me?

You wish to be paid for your care of
us. There is a debt remaining, remember?

Or do you imagine it being paid by
me performing your secretarial duties

until the day you die?

I cannot stay here, Abel.

Whatever.

You know that.

Know too that I must take my son
to my chest once more and be free.

Free?

That is not freedom.

Oh? Is it not? Hmm?

See this.

Me... the... the porcelain
alone, three pieces

Japanese awaiting the duty for
Yamanaka and Company, Osaka.

That is thousands upon
thousands of pounds.

Do you think me ignorant of such riches?

I am not.

I have resisted their
lure for reasons with which

you ought to be altogether familiar.

The hazard of overreaching, princess...

55 dead and your lovely
face at the end of a rope.

My motives, what I sought to achieve,

I would take the same risk again.

And hope for an alternative outcome?

Quite so.

But this, this is my escape.

And my husband and I shall
do all we can to take it.

Whether you help us or no, Abel,

you shall receive a great share of
it for the shelter you have given me,

the shelter and the care, because you
are my friend, and will remain ever so.

Am I yours?

More than friend, indeed.

You are my girl who must leave me.

Then help me, Abel.

Help me to be free.

Morning, my love.

Bennet, what I said last night...

Rose, please.

Didn't sleep a wink again.

Dunno how much longer I can...

Darling, things will get better.

We're beginners, aren't we?

We will learn.

Connor will teach us.

Hmm.

The lad?

No sign of rousing.

Didn't like to disturb.

Yeah, best I do it.

Thomas Gower,

Thomas.

Get him out, Bennet.

Get him out of this house!

Forgive me.

Thomas!

Thomas Gower's war record...

court martial, dishonourable discharge.

The man he beat, Private
Carrie, lost an eye.

There was no medal, Bennet.

Gower spent three years at
the military gaol in Gosport.

A man doesn't change, Mr. Drake.

And all this you investigated
with my back turned.

Would you not have done the
same if you thought I had, ah,

an emotional attachment
to the matter at hand?

Of course, just as you taught me,

the great, objective Inspector Reid.

But objectively, this still does not
make Thomas Gower Tanner's killer.

No, it does not, but it behoves
us to ask of him certain questions.

And I would not do that
also with your back turned.

Now, he has gone to ground, Mr. Drake.

I know one place he'd be.

Go on, all of you, outside. Hopscotch.

There'll be hot soup later.

Thank you, Miss Deborah.

It has to stop, Thomas.

The drink, it is a
slow poison and no more.

I don't wanna drink
no more, Miss Deborah.

Where is he?

Thomas, come with us.

You must.

I've done nothing.

That's as may be,
boy, but you must come.

The boy is sick. Can you not see that?

A hangover is hardly the
black death, Miss Goren.

I had hoped perhaps you were coming
with news of Rabbi Ratovski's murderer,

or coming to tell me that Isaac
Bloom was vindicated after all,

and your remorse for
his death was fathomless.

I did not expect you to be
dragging off a suffering young man.

Will you hang him for Ratovski too?

Ratovski was murdered by
Isaac Bloom, Miss Goren.

And Bloom met his justice.

Thomas, now.

He is wrong, Edmund, and you know it.

You lied to me.

I told you what you wanted to hear.

I wanna hear the truth.

I don't know the truth.

No more lies, boy!

You dossed in his bed
that night, didn't you?

And you hid your ruined shirt in panic.

He was kind to you.

He was a friend to you.

Was Private Carrie a friend also?

As you drank and you drank
and you blinded Carrie.

And you drank and you drank,
and you murdered Tanner.

I... I don't know.

We... we were celebrating things.
Charlie got offered a new job,

a team transfer.

But I... I'd been to the bowl.

Something smashed.

It broke.

Then I was out cold.

When I woke, Charlie was...

I had blood on me.

Because you killed him.

I was afraid!

I didn't know.

It's all black.

Don't you see?

I forget all but what I drink to forget.

It was you. You pulverized
Tanner with a hammer.

As you beat Carrie,
your brother-in-arms,

as you murdered Manby the toymaker
when a mere boy in this parish.

You were a killer then,
and you are a killer still.

- It's... it's dark.
- It was you. Say it.

- I cannot remember.
- Thomas, say it.

Say it.

I done it. I done it.

I killed him.

I got it.

I got it.

The blood, the sheet,
the shirt. Have a see.

Gower confessed.

The shirt is his.

Oh, he did, huh?

Well, it looks like we got
ourselves a little conundrum.

Because whoever was wearing that shirt

did not kill Charlie Tanner.

The spatter on the wall
where Charlie was killed.

Now, you see the force of it?

It's the velocity of the spray.

Now you look at the bed.

Rounder droplets, less force.

Now, this is cast off spatter.

The killer was hammering
Tanner by the wall.

He swings back, and blood
flies off the hammer,

lands behind him onto the bed.

But look at the shape.

Now, there should be blood there
too, but there's a ghosting.

- So something stopped him.
- Somebody.

The shirt.

The pattern matches.

Cast off spatter.

Meaning, this is Thomas Gower's
shirt, then Gower ain't your killer,

because he was flat out on
the bed behind the killer

when Charlie Tanner
got his brains beat out.

- There was a third.
- Correct.

And they took something.

Now, I almost missed it on account
of he was such a mess, but here.

It's a feint ligature.

He wore something around his neck.

Hung there and torn off.

Oh, Inspectors.

Ah, Captain, all the constables
are asking after the, ah...

the bunnies, sir.

That they might be
put in a pot for stew.

A few rabbits might have made
a noble sacrifice in the...

pursuit
of this forensication.

Impressive work, Captain.

Where's your money now, Reid?

Thomas, I expected you to be relieved.

Relieved, Mr. Drake?

And if it wasn't for the gin,

I would have not lied there
in my own black sweat and piss

while Charlie took a
hammer from some bastard.

You could not help him
then, so help him now.

You said that Tanner
was offered a transfer.

The Woolwich Arsenal wanted him.

Good job, good pay,
captaining in the team.

Charlie could leave Whitechapel and
all these shitcake streets behind him.

Thomas, did Charlie Tanner wear anything
about his neck, a cross or a locket?

He had a pendant.

St. Sebastian, he said.

Patron of athletes and of soldiers too.

St. Sebastian.

Here we go.

St. Sebastian.

My boy.

Ah, I won't run.

Never had the speed anyways.

Not like Charlie did.

He was running from you, wasn't he?

And you couldn't stand to
see him leave your team.

I made him, here.

He was nothing.

He was the shit on your shoe.

And he would repay me thus?

I made him!

Human beings are not
cast metal, Mr. Hackman.

They are not ore to
be forged as you wish.

My old man would talk of the universe,

God's crankshaft, Newton.

What good's all them laws
against a man's own lawless heart?

It's us always, ain't it?

The force unfactored,

the secret fault,

the nameless splinter
that breaks the system.

I loved that boy.

Men of iron?

Men of smoke is all we are.

Bring me them shackles.

We made them here.

I need dynamite for the door.

You find a fence.

Everything has to be right.

And when it's done,
everything has to be ready.

Connor, we cannot make a single mistake

- when we take him back.
- I know, darling.

I know.

I need to see the house,
the streets around it.

We need to know how to
enter and leave as ghosts.

Well, it looks like we have ourselves
another midnight ramble, huh?

That's useful work you're
doing for Miss Goren, Thomas.

Heard it was Hackman done in Charlie.

It was.

Then why are you here?

Because, lad, the offer still stands.

You can work at Leman Street with me.

But you have to stop the drinking.

I'd sooner have took the
rope than seen what I seen,

done what I done.

You think you saved me?

You sent me somewhere worse than death.

- Thomas.
- You ain't my friend.

You ain't my guardian.

You are black wings
casting shadow over me.

And I know not if I shall
ever feel light again.

-
-

You wished to see me?

Inspector Reid, when you
worked under Fred Abberline,

did you presume to question
his judgement at every turn?

Mr. Drake, Bennet...

Inspector Drake, I am Inspector Drake.

And when I was your sergeant, did I
presume to question your judgement?

You did not, Inspector Drake.

Then with what conceited licence
is it you ceaselessly question mine?

My suspicions of Thomas Gower
were, I accept, unfounded.

So they were.

And yet what a merry dance
you led behind my back

to see him proved otherwise.

But more fool me to be
surprised when your very return

to Whitechapel was to question
my conviction of Isaac Bloom

Because even though he'd
come to pass his days

shucking oysters on
the sands of Hampton,

my judgement was apparently
insufficient for the great Edmund Reid.

Inspector Drake, it
was never my intention

- to doubt your...
- Intention, Inspector?

Well, let's not speak of those.

It was never my intention to
have you here before me thus!

But of late, I have come to thinking

a man's intentions count for something

- less than nought in this world.
- Bennet.

You will hear me, Edmund Reid!

I watched you, your sly words,
pressing and turning him to your will.

Even had the boy himself
believe he'd done them things!

We coppered good
together, you and I once.

But, ah, maybe them days have passed.

You will henceforth do me the
courtesy of respect, Mr. Reid.

If I find you manoeuvring
beyond my eyeline once more,

I will revoke your warrant card,
send you away, and do so with joy.

I will endeavour to serve this
division to my utmost, Inspector Drake.

Then we are concluded, Inspector Reid.

The Talmud tells us that
the tree of knowledge itself,

instrument of our
fall, was a grape vine.

Time was, Thomas, the vine
held its sway over me also.

- But not now?
- But not now.

Deborah tells me that you
were born a Jew, Thomas.

Do you believe in God?

No God would permit
the things I've seen.

But we can help you, Thomas,
give you comfort here.

Would you care to pray with me?

I don't want your help.

I don't need help from nobody.

- Thomas.
- Not you neither, Miss Goren.

I... I should not have come back to you.

-

Miss Deborah.

Connor sleeps in their
bedroom at the back.

I'll show you where
we can flee with him.

I need to see him.

Caitlin, no.

I need to see him, Matthew,
if only for a moment.

My boy, my darling.

Caitlin, we have to leave!

Mama.

Do you want your mama, sweet boy?

Do you want your mum?