Original subtitles

- synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -

- (people chattering) - (Man): It's your fault!

- (man): Look at my automobile! - (Man): You call this progress?

(man): Yes, it's called progress!

Get with the times, old man. Who's gonna pay to fix this?

Who's gonna pay for my carriage?

Disgraceful! The blinders are for the horse, not you!

As if you can see anything with all that smoke.

(man): Horses should be plowing fields, not on the road!

(man): You shouldn't be on the road in that damn thing!

- I had the right of way! - Never, you did!

- You almost killed my horse! - You ruined my machine!

- Officer! Officer... - Not now. Not now.

- Officer! This man... - Excuse us. Police.

Excuse me, pardon me, coming through.

(Crabtree): Toronto Constabulary!

Does that mean anything?

(Murdoch): Please, move out of the way.

Toronto Constabulary! Make way, make way.

Uh, excuse me, sir, may I?

Oh!

Good lord!

Sir, what do we do?

Well, for a start, shut down the church.

♪

Ladies, again, if you could just keep your voices down. Gentlemen...

Gent... Lads, lads, settle down. It's imperative

that we keep the noise level to a minimum while we're here.

- Sir, is that clear? - Excuse me. Excuse me.

- You there! - Sir, your voice.

(man): Shh.

(man in white coat): What is that loopy bastard doing?

I don't think he's up there on his own accord, sir.

- I need you to lay charges! - I need you to keep your...

- My motor's destroyed! - I want you to keep your voice down, sir.

We can't deal with that; we're very busy right now.

(crowd chattering)

- Everybody, just please... - Move! Move!

(Murdoch clears his throat.) Sir...

are you alright?

Do I look alright to you? Get me off this damned thing!

I intend to.

Do you have any idea what that is?

No. Just get me down!

Sir, I...

When they get louder, the...

thing inside vibrates.

(vibrating)

- (woman): Get him down! - (Hostage): Stop looking at it and get me down!

Yeah, can you hear me?

Sir, I would advise you to keep your voice down.

- Why? - Because...

I believe the bomb strapped to your chest may go off

if the sound around it gets too loud.

(indistinct talking)

You realize there are 6 working factories

- in this neighbourhood? - Unfortunately, yes.

Where are you going?

I am going to help you.

- (bird cawing) - Be quick about it!

Sir, for your own sake and for mine,

please keep your voice down.

(woman): I think he wants to come down.

- (Murdoch): Sir? - (Man): Gotta get back to work.

(man): What a waste of our time!

- Devil of a predicament. - Indeed.

The chap's name is Richard Welsh.

Sole proprietor of Welsh Machine Works.

Turns up at work every morning at the crack of dawn, except today.

His lead foreman found this in his stead.

(Murdoch): "You are to cease all operations immediately."

Written in Mr. Welsh's own hand.

- Who confirmed this? - She did.

- His wife? - Very attractive,

but can talk the hind leg off a donkey.

- Mrs. Welsh, I'm Detective William... - I know. I read the papers.

What is going on and who is doing this to my husband?

- I don't know. - But you intend to find out?

- Yes, ma'am. - (Mrs. Welsh): When?

- Mrs. Welsh... - And why aren't you getting him down?

The device that's up there with him, I believe, is triggered by sound.

If I tamper with it in any way, it might...

- What? Blow him up? - (train whistle)

- Yes, ma'am. - Do you even know

if that bomb is real?

Well, I think for your husband's sake,

we should assume that it is.

Do you have any idea who might want to do this to him?

No one would want to do this to my husband.

He is a good man who is lifting all around him

out of poverty. Help him.

Well, if your husband is so important to all of these people,

I would suggest you ask them to keep quiet.

♪

Lovely lady.

What you are asking is ridiculous.

- On the surface. - More than just on the surface

You want me to shut the city down.

Not the entire city, just part of it.

- Its heartbeat. - Sound will detonate the bomb.

Today being the Lord's Day, it's quiet,

but tomorrow... every factory,

all construction, all civic improvements,

you want me to shut all these things down?

Sir, a man's life is at risk. If we didn't think

extraordinary measures were necessary, we wouldn't be asking you this.

I'll do what I can, but only because I trust you.

Mr. Mayor, this is going to be very unpopular.

Mr. Welsh helped get me elected; we can at least give him one day.

One day?

(chatter) (phones ringing)

- William. - Julia.

- Thank you for coming. - You wanted to see me?

- About something important? - Yes.

- Julia, I was hoping that you would... - Yes.

But I haven't finished yet.

Oh! Yes, of course.

Go on.

I was wondering if you might be able to shed some light on something for me.

Oh!

Of course.

- What is it, William? - A man has been

strapped to the top of a telephone pole

with a bomb attached to him.

Goodness!

Yes. Whoever is responsible seems to have a strong objection

to this man's factory. Wants it shut down.

A disgruntled worker?

Yes, but I think it may be more than that. You see,

the man has attached a note to the bomb saying that

it will detonate if there is any sound in the vicinity

greater than the toll of St. Andrew's bell.

Is such a thing possible?

- I intend to find out. - And what would you like me to do?

I was wondering if you could put together

a personality profile

of whoever could be responsible for this.

Perhaps check the asylum records for anyone who's been admitted

for having a strong aversion to auditory stimuli.

Yes, certainly.

And was there anything else that you wanted?

Perhaps you could be quite quick about it.

Yes. Of course.

(people chattering)

Look at these ghouls,

idling about, hoping they get to see

my husband blown into a million pieces.

Perhaps they're just concerned.

Concerned?! These two are taking bets!

How long has your husband's factory been operating

- at this location? - Six months now.

And why are you asking me this? Just get him down!

As I told you, ma'am, any attempt from me to take him down

may result in him blowing up.

This must have been a quiet ward

before your husband opened this factory.

Quiet and poor.

Look at it now.

It's bustling with the sounds of business and opportunity.

Was everyone happy

your husband built this factory?

Everyone who wanted to put food in their children's bellies.

Mrs. Welsh, please, I need your help.

There were a few malcontents.

But they're fools, woolly headed intellectuals.

Their names?

They call themselves the New Agrarians.

Was the Detective speaking to you?!

And what a ridiculous name!

And how can agrarianism be new?

Industrialization is new.

Urbanization is an abomination,

antithetical to the human condition.

Progress is part of evolution.

Urbanization is not progress.

Some would argue otherwise.

Of course they would, and those "some" are monsters

like Mr. Welsh and all the rest

of the industrialists and developers destroying Toronto.

So you consider Mr. Welsh a monster?

Men like him don't care about people.

- They're all servants of Moloch. - Would it be safe to say

that you are enjoying his predicament?

Of course I'm not.

But I can't say I'm unhappy his factory is quiet.

And who else is pleased with this?

Everyone I know.

Miss Cunnyworth,

if anyone in your organization

is capable of more than rhetoric

you would be well advised to tell me.

- We're a peaceful organization. - Well then,

if that's the case, you will help me. Please.

A man's life hangs in the balance.

There is one man,

a new member.

His name is Travis McGuire.

He once worked with the monsters.

He told me that toiling the machine work

was like being in the pits of Hades.

(man): No, I've got the deliveries in the morning.

(man): I've got to take these out there now, alright?

- (metallic hammering) - Sir. Sir.

Sir, I have to ask you to not do that right now.

Look, I don't care if it's the Lord's Day;

- I have to make a living. - It's got nothing to do

with the Lord's Day. Th... th... there is a noise restriction on the entire area.

- That's bloody ridiculous! - That's the way it is. You can

either pack this up or come down to the station house with me.

- How long is the restriction? - As long as the Constabulary deems necessary.

So in the meantime, you'll feed my family?

Sir, I promise you,

we're working as fast as we can.

- (man): Come along, boy. - (Crabtree): Thank you, sir.

Thank you for your understanding.

Dr. Grace.

Hello.

What can I do for you?

I wanted to talk to you for a moment, George.

- Right. - (train whistle)

I was a fool.

I made a dreadful mistake.

I was momentarily distracted by Mr. Garland's charms.

I never realized he was such a cad and...

I'm so sorry.

I see.

So you understand?

I understand. I understand that if Leslie Garland

hadn't turned out to be such a cad, you'd still be with him rather than me.

George, I didn't mean for it to come out like that.

Well, it came out like that.

So you've made no progress?

We're investigating a number of leads.

But nothing that could be construed as progress?

(Brackrenreid): Mr. Mayor, to be fair, we've only just begun.

Then letting you begin may have been a mistake.

- (Murdoch): Sir... - This city cannot exist

in stasis. This is the 20th Century.

- What are you suggesting? - Business must return to normal.

At the expense of a man's life?

I am not going to be able to keep the factories shut down.

The wheels of industry must continue to turn.

- Stop them! - I daresay I can't.

There are at least 3 companies who are threatening

- to defy my orders. - Then I'll bloody arrest them.

(loud siren) No!

(fireman): What the devil is he doing?

You can't run the siren.

We always run the siren. We're on the way to a fire!

Alright. Please do it quietly.

- Ok, let's go. - (horse whinnying)

(Murdoch sighs.)

This isn't going to work.

We just need a bit more time, Mr. Mayor.

I'll see what I can do.

But the city is a living, breathing thing.

I can't kill it.

- He's right. - I know.

A stray train whistle, a ship's horn, anything.

- So we need to find the bomber. - Or disarm the bomb.

You work on the machine, and I'll work on the people.

So Mr. McGuire...

Take your hat off.

How long have you been a member of the New Agrarians?

A few months.

And how long have you had it in for Mr. Welsh?

I don't "have it in" for him.

Don't lie to me.

- I'm not. - Then what exactly is this?!

I have nothing against the man in question.

- Just his business. - You tried to blow it up.

I was attempting to dissuade him from setting up shop

- in the middle of the city, right where people live. - Dissuade him?

- With 2 sticks of dynamite? - It didn't work.

But I certainly have nothing to do with the circumstances

he finds himself in now.

You find this amusing?

Is anyone else in your group capable?

Of a bomb triggered by sound? No, I very much doubt that.

- Anyone in the ward? - No one liked him

- or his wife. - And why is that?

They thought because they owned that belching factory

- that they were royalty. - They were providing

a living wage to the working man of Toronto.

They were re doing no one in this city any favours.

Human beings are not capable of living under such circumstances.

Noise, overcrowding, foul air...

they're turning us into uncivil beasts.

Just like the type that would try to blow up a man's business and his livelihood?

Well, I call that working for the greater good.

Why did you do that?

Because you're a bloody fool.

- Sir, I have a theory. - What's that, George?

I think this might be the work of one of Mr. Welsh's competitors.

- Shh, shh, shh, shh. - Lads, lads.

You know, businessmen can be quite vicious.

Possibly, but I'm not entirely convinced

that this is an attack on Mr. Welsh himself,

- but rather what he represents. - What he represents?

Progress.

Who would be against progress?

(woman): Hey, keep it quiet.

- Sir, do you notice that? - What?

Peace and quiet.

It's like a blast of silence.

It's quite enjoyable, I think.

Hmm!

(Welsh): What's going on?

Sir, have you been watching the device?

Only every damn second.

And every time they stir...

- (man): What's going on? - (Man): Is he still there?

The damn thing starts to move.

I just want to get back to work.

The diaphragm appears to be the key.

- If it vibrates too much... - I blow up.

I understand that. The question is,

what are you gonna do to make that not the case?

Get this thing off me!

Sir, I'm afraid I can't. If I disconnect the wrong wire...

Don't... say it.

- Sir, what about a blanket? - A blanket?

Yes, we'll bring a heavy blanket up to you on a crane.

If we wrap it around, it may dampen the sound.

George, the sound of an industrial crane too near

- the device may set it off. - Well, a balloon then?

- A... a balloon? - Yes, sir. We float a balloon

over top of him and drop the blanket from above.

George, anything near this man,

anything falling over top of the diaphragm would be far louder

than a church bell tolling a mile way.

Would you two stop blathering and get this thing off me!

We're gonna need

- to quiet these people down. - (people chattering)

Sir...

I'm afraid that any attempt

to get you down might trigger the device.

Then find the bastard who strapped it to me.

Are you sure that you have no idea...

If I did, wouldn't you think I damn well would have told you?

(crowd chattering)

Why aren't you doing anything?

Ma'am, as long as it's quiet,

he's in no immediate danger.

No danger?! He's stuck atop a pole

with a bomb strapped to him!

Ma'am, please keep your voice down. You wouldn't want

to be the one to set it off, now would you?

Although, sir, I doubt her voice is loud enough...

Yes, George, I know that, you know that,

we don't need her to know that.

(man): Get your pizza!

Sir, Mr. Welsh has enemies on all sides.

Even the other industrialists are upset with him,

because he pays his employees higher wages.

Could any of them have done this?

Well, we're talking to them, but nothing so far.

- Family members? - Despite his abrupt attitude,

he seems fairly well liked.

What of this Travis McGuire?

Sir, the Agrarians, they just seem like harmless

country people, artists. Bad news, Murdoch.

Just received word from the mayor's office.

He's gonna reopen the factories.

He's signing Mr. Welsh's death warrant.

I explained that to him, but he's under a lot of pressure.

- A missed day of business is worth a man's life? - The Mayor seems to have

convinced himself that this is nothing more than a hoax.

That's a possibility, sir, but...

But if it isn't, Mr. Welsh...

When is the mayor going to lift the moratorium?

Noon today.

Three hours to find the person responsible for this?

I know. Where are you going?

To disarm the bomb, gentlemen.

Well, come on then, Crabtree, get a move on.

Are you sure you can do this, Murdoch?

Of course I can, sir. I've known how to for years.

(Brackenreid): So what happens when you get to the top?

I'm going to try to defuse the bomb.

I'm not having my best man get blown to...

Sir, I wouldn't be your best man if I didn't at least try.

That's well put, sir, you can't argue with that.

I hope we're far enough away from that thing.

I've been blown up before, you know?

(loud bang) Whoa, whoa, whoa,

whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey! Whoa, whoa, sir!

- What's going on? - Sir, could you stop the engine!

- I will not. I need to pass. - Get out of the automobile.

I will not.

Now, sir, remember, the sounds you make

will increase in volume the closer you get to the device itself.

Thank you, George.

What is he doing?

Getting your husband down.

Why didn't he think of that in the first place?

He said if the area remains quiet...

The Mayor is letting the factories start up, isn't he?

That bastard! My Richard as much as PUT HIM IN OFFICE!

(Brackenreid): Ma'am, quiet down.

♪

It's about time. Hurry!

- Sir, turn this around and go the other direction. - Step aside.

- Get out of the automobile! - Step aside!

- Sir. - I said move.

- Sir, sir... Stop! - You can't go that way! (The car backfires.)

Hurry! Get this damn thing off me!

- (policeman): Get back here! - (Policeman): Stop the car!

- (policeman): Stop! Get back! - (Policeman): Sir, please stop!

- (policeman): Stop right now! - (car backfiring)

(gasping)

Sir!

(people screaming)

Mrs. Welsh,

I'm so sorry.

That car backfire could not have been predicted...

Don't. It hardly would have mattered.

- (steam whistle) - (industrial noises)

Don't you hear that?

My husband's friends...

would have killed him anyway.

Couldn't even wait a day.

My husband's blood.

- (general hubbub) - (jackhammer pounding)

We know that sound dissipates the further

it travels from its source.

So the man bothered by the factory must have lived nearby.

Exactly. Only residents of Cabbagetown would have been

- directly affected by the noise. - As much as we are being

tortured by that damn thing outside.

- Gentlemen. - Julia.

I found very few cases of people who have acted violently

when overly stimulated by sound.

And those that were didn't try

to stop the source; they simply retreated.

- Became hermits? - (Julia): Exactly.

So you found nothing that could assist us?

I'm afraid not, William, this is clearly an irrational act.

(phone ringing) But the Asylum has no record

of anyone with any such malady.

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

We'll be there right away, sir.

The deputy mayor wants to speak to us.

- I'll get my coat. - (jackhammer pounding)

What a bloody racket!

Almost wish the poor sod was still on top of the pole!

(little laugh)

Yes, Doctor?

I was wondering, has William been acting oddly lately?

- Oddly? - I'm just wondering

if he'd said anything to you!

About?

Oh, nothing, Inspector. I'm sorry to have bothered you.

Murdoch keeps his own council, Doctor, you should know that.

Yes, I know all too well.

Jackson, stop shaking the box; it's a bomb!

- It already "blowed" up, Henry. - Blew up, Jackson.

Why does Detective Murdoch want this rubbish anyways?

Well, he's going to reconstruct the device

hoping it will lend some clues as to its maker.

- It's just junk though. - Higgins, you of all people should know

Detective Murdoch can see things where no mere mortal can.

I saw Dr. Grace today, George.

- Did you now? - She was by the station

waiting for you to come in.

I think it's over between she and I, Henry.

You're sure about that, George? She's a fine woman.

Educated too. Yes, I know that, Jackson.

I also know that, in due time, she'll...

find some other chap who's more on her...

- Don't sell yourself short, George. - I'm not.

I know who I am and I'm content with that.

So... you're through then?

Yes we're through, Henry. Can we just focus on the job at hand?

- * - Oh, Lord!

What?

Oh...

And he said nothing about it?

Not a thing, I thought that when he said

he had something important to ask me that he meant a proposal,

instead it was assistance with a case.

He might have cold feet.

I could see that considering the last time he tried.

You had reason.

I know. But there's no reason not to now.

William Murdoch and George Crabtree will be the death of us.

Have you talked to him?

Yes. But every time I do,

I put my foot in it.

- (phone ringing) - I should be going.

Don't give up, Emily.

George Crabtree is as fine a man who's ever walked the earth.

(phone ringing)

- Hello? - [Hello, Julia.]

Father?

(people chattering)

(horse whinnying) (jackhammer pounding)

We're not moving.

The streets are getting busier and busier, sir.

Because they're always bloody tearing them up.

I told you, we should have taken the bicycle, sir.

Only a fool would ride a bicycle on a street

full of wagons, streetcars, and damned motorcars!

(horse whinnying) (car honking)

We'll walk.

(crowd chattering) (jackhammers pounding)

Thank you.

(car honking)

I've instructed all businesses to cease operations.

And I've told all churches to cease ringing their bells.

- And they've agreed to comply? - For now. But, Inspector,

we can't have the mayor be this fiend's next victim.

- We'll do what we can. - That wasn't quite enough

for poor Mr. Welsh, was it?

Clever.

Mr. Mayor.

It's alright, we can speak.

Can you do something?

Yes, sir. Did you get a look at who did this to you?

He wore a mask.

He was a man of unremarkable stature.

That's all. Please get me out of this.

We will, Mr. Mayor.

- Where are you going? - To solve this, sir.

(baby crying)

It's much quieter here than Cabbagetown, but the risk

is still considerable.

Another car backfiring, a baby crying...

And we'll be looking at another damned election.

You're gonna be alright, Mr. Mayor.

Just get this damn hat off me.

Jackson!

Have a look at this.

What am I looking at?

Well, it's a threat directed to Mr. Welsh

- from a Bradley Fowler. - Wanna bring him in?

I do.

- Where's Higgins? - He stepped out to grab

a bite of pizza pie. He said he was famished.

Hollow leg on that one.

- Matches the head. - Ha! Ha! Ha!

(footsteps)

Dr. Grace.

Constable Higgins. What can I do for you?

Well, I was wondering how you were faring.

Well enough, thank you.

Ha! I see.

Well, what is it, Constable? I'm...

quite busy.

Yes. Well...

I was wondering if you would care to...

join me at the Agricultural Fair this Saturday? You and I?

Well, I was under the impression that George

had recently broken things off with you, so I thought perhaps...

Are you being deliberately cruel?

- No. I... - Did George put you up to this?

No.

My invitation was sincere.

I'm... sorry to have troubled you.

(footsteps going away)

Henry, I'm sorry.

(door closing)

(sigh)

And you think you can reconstruct this?

- Well, sir, I have to try. - To what end?

Well, perhaps I can figure out how to disarm the new bomb

or where the parts came from. It might yield a clue

- as to the identity of the... - Sirs.

- What is it, Crabtree? - Sorry for the interruption.

Jackson and I just brought in a Bradley Fowler.

He was a competitor of Mr. Welsh's.

I found a rather threatening note in Mr. Welsh's effects.

- A note. Is that it? - No, sir, I took the liberty

of going through Mr. Fowler's employee list.

At one point, Travis McGuire worked for him.

Wasn't he the bloke who tried to blow up Welsh's building?

The very one, sir.

I'll have Jackson bring him in next.

I'll have a go at this Fowler.

A light one, sir. He doesn't appear

to be a common street thug.

Murdoch, you stick to what you do best.

As will I.

- Just tell me the truth. - I didn't do anything

- to Mr. Welsh. - You threatened him.

He upped an offer on a building I was in the midst

of purchasing. I was angry. And that was years ago.

Water under the bridge.

And you had to move your factory quite a distance away?

I did. And everything cost more because of it.

- You're in the same business? - Machine parts, yes. Mostly marine parts and...

And Welsh pays his workers double.

You lost 3 of your most skilled mechanics to him.

Yeah, he's paying them like they're damned lawyers.

And now he isn't, and you'll have them back.

- (knocking on door) - Bring him in.

Nice to see you again.

Do you know this man?

Never seen him before in my life.

DON'T BLOODY LIE TO ME!

I'll ask you again, do you know him?

He worked for me once.

Before or after he tried to blow up Welsh's building?

- I had nothing to do with that. - Is he lying?

You better think on your answer, sunshine,

'cause I'm seriously looking at you two for the murder

- of Mr. Richard Welsh. - Murder, that's ridiculous!

LOOK AT ME!

Don't listen to him, tell me the truth.

Yeah, he paid me to blow up the building.

- He's lying. - But I had nothing to do with the present bomb. I swear.

I wouldn't pay that fool 50$ to do anything...

On my mother's grave. He paid me exactly 50$

to try to blow up Mr. Welsh's factory.

- For the greater good, is it? - Unless you're prepared

to furnish some form of proof of my involvement in Mr. Welsh's death,

I'm leaving. You lay a hand on me;

I'll have you before a court of law!

Sir!

Henry, please...

- What is it? - You're needed, sir.

- (woman): What's he saying? - And please...

No matter what, no applause.

Or loud noises. Mr. Mayor.

- (woman): No more noises. - (Man): Yes, ma'am.

- (woman): What did he say? - (Woman): He said, no noises.

My fellow ratepayers,

I have always respected you,

your wishes and your desires.

With that in mind,

I have made a most difficult decision.

At 6 o'clock this evening,

the City Hall clock tower

will ring true and strong.

And not just any clock,

but every factory...

and church in the city

will serenade you with the sound of progress and industry!

- (people talking) - Please...

let's not rush the inevitable, shall we?

You have to stop him.

The mayor is a stubborn man.

- He will die. - And they will build

a statue to him. I think it's all he really wants.

One man cannot stay the wheels of progress

or starve...

the engine of prosperity!

And so,

my fellow ratepayers,

at 6 o'clock this evening,

I will be no more.

But you

and this great city will live on.

My death will convince this fiend

that he cannot push back the power of the 20th Century

or stymie the men

who will lead humanity into a brave new world.

Now, I ask you

to please disperse

and let me spend my few remaining hours

with my family.

(crowd chattering)

Mr. Mayor, this isn't necessary.

It is, Detective. You as much as said so yourself.

With every steam whistle too loud, every child with colic,

- this device explodes. - But, sir...

I have decided, Detective.

I'm going to sacrifice my life

so the city can prosper.

Now, go.

Jackson, ensure that this crowd stays

a safe distance back. We know from before the approximate blast radius.

- And how much is that, sir? - Well, I would prefer

they weren't here at all but 20 feet should do it.

- Shall we get them to disperse? - Just keep them back.

Oh, and...

move them when necessary.

Yes, sir.

George?

I'm heading back to the Station house; you're in charge here.

Sir.

You're certain you can't make the mayor reconsider?

His mind's made up.

The mayor may not be the sharpest tack in the drawer,

but when his mind is made up...

Then I suppose you'll assume the mantle of leadership?

But not the way I wanted.

- What about Mr. Fowler? - Nothing strong enough to hold him.

So you don't think that... - Doesn't look like he had anything to do with it.

Henry, what are you doing? Get away from there.

- But, sir... - Go down to City Hall and help Constable Crabtree...

- Sir, wait. - What is it?

I know where these parts are from.

- Oh! - It's a piano, sir.

This here is piano wire and...

this is what's left of a damper.

What about these?

Those are piano tuning screws.

Excellent work, Henry!

My family owned a piano shop, sir.

Never really even good at playing the damned thing I suppose,

but pretty well acquainted with the various

- parts and inner workings, so... - Henry, what time is it?

It's 4 o'clock, sir.

- Good work. - Perhaps, sir,

I'm not just a mere mortal as well.

Right.

(indistinct talking)

Excuse me. Police.

Hello?

Toronto Constabulary.

Hello!

What do you want?

(horse whinnying)

I said what do you want? We're closed.

I'm looking for a Mr. Pike.

Are you his wife?

Do you own this place?

My husband and I.

I'd very much like to speak with him.

(woman snickering) You and me both.

- You don't know where he is? - I threw him out.

Weeks ago now.

- I need to find him. - Well, if you do,

tell him to go to hell.

Mrs. Pike, why did you throw your husband out?

He wasn't any good.

He was mad.

Mad as damn hatter.

He'd rant and rail,

damn the noises around him to high heavens.

Ma'am, it's very important that I find him.

Please, a man's life is at stake.

A man?

What man?

I thought he was blown up.

Hell of a commotion.

Yes, yes. Well, a different man.

The mayor.

I knew it.

Oh, Jesus!

He was smarter than I thought.

That's what he was tinkering on.

He built the bomb, didn't he?

You wouldn't think he had it in him.

Ma'am, please, I need to find your husband.

His name is Wallace

and he used to be a good man

before the noise of the city made him mad.

So he built a bomb.

Mad as a hatter!

Enough, ma'am, please, I need to find your husband.

- Get your hands off me. - Please!

Go.

Avery's Bridge.

Try that.

Sometimes I'd find him hiding under there

like a hermit.

- (crowd chatter) - Ladies, please.

Sir, I hope you're not betting. Excuse me. Uh...

Fine.

(Crabtree clears his throat.)

Could be my imagination but are there more people here?

Must have missed the first explosion.

Hey, George, if you want my opinion regarding

Dr. Grace, she seems like a fine woman...

She's a fine woman, but I was batting out of my league.

The relationship was always destined to end poorly.

George, you don't really believe that, do you?

That's enough, now. My affairs, or lack thereof, with Dr. Grace

is my own business. It's done, I'm done talking about it.

Sorry, George.

(Jackson sighs.)

(birds singing)

Wallace Pike?

Toronto Constabulary.

It's quiet here, isn't it?

Like the way the world should be.

Yes, it is.

Isn't this...

what the world should be?

Mr. Pike, I need your help.

I don't want an innocent man to die.

Then turn off the factories,

- turn off the cars. - I can't.

And at 6 o'clock today, the world as it is

- will start up again. - But the mayor!

You can't stop a city.

I'm sorry but you just can't... you can't win.

But you can save an innocent man's life.

I just want everything

to go back to the way it was.

Those days are gone.

Don't let another innocent man die.

Please.

♪

- I love you. - It's time to go.

Ma'am.

(people talking)

People, I advise you to stand back.

We need you to stand back now.

♪

(woman): I don't want to see this.

(Murdoch): Look out! Police! Coming through.

- You have 2 minutes, Mr. Pike. - It won't take long.

Thank you.

Be quiet.

It's done.

Mr. Mayor.

- (church bells tolling) - Thank you, Mr. Pike.

(steam whistles blowing)

- Mr. Pike! - I want silence.

- No! - (gunshot and screams)

- Ah! - (Man): Good Lord!

Julia. What brings you here?

I'm off to visit my father. He called me out of the blue.

Oh, how long has it been?

Years. But he wants to see me.

I don't suppose that you could accompany me.

It would be lovely for you two to meet,

and perhaps there is something that you would like to ask him...

Julia, I couldn't possibly.

I have a reception at the mayor's office

and my attendance is mandated. Safe journey.

Constable Crabtree.

Dr. Ogden.

I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries, but...

I spoke with Doctor Grace.

- I know that she's very sorry. - I appreciate that.

I just... I really don't want to discuss it.

She's a good woman, George,

and one certainly deserving of a second chance.

I think in breaking things off with her I've given her just that.

But I really do appreciate that, Doctor, thank you.

♪

(sigh)

Dr. Ogden has passed.

Father is dead?

Injection mark.

Someone murdered your father.

Would you make the same choice?

If I could do it over again,

I would take a chance on love.

I don't want just a few

months of happiness.

Announcer: The season finale of Murdoch, next Monday.

- synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -