All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - 08x11 - All That Glitters.WEBRip.POKE.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

(theme music)

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It certainly has a unique frame, sir.

I got it from home.

It was a present from
the mother-in-law.

All I needed to do was remove
the atrocity that was in it.

What is that, sir? Mahogany?

Well, it's certainly one
of the more exotic woods.

- Yes, it's too dark for teak.
- Why are the two of you

talking about the frame
when it's the painting

that merits attention? I think your use

- of colour is extraordinary.
- You needn't flatter me, Doctor,

but why exactly do you say so?

With this painting,

I see a creative vision taking hold.

You seem to be capturing the
essence of the North woods

and not just the actual of it.

(Brackenreid): Well, it's
not half bad for a copper.

I'm curious, sir, why
did you use blue and...

pink for the trees?

Creative vision, Murdoch,
like Dr. Ogden just said.

Oh, and I ran out of the green.

George, look at this one.

- He's put a few away already.
- Oh. He's coming right for us.

Most drunks head the
other way when they see us.

(George): He's too pickled to
know if he's coming or going.

- Well, I'm off duty.
- (Man moaning)

Getting an early start today, sir?

- Eagle...
- What's that?

- Eagle?
- Eagle...

- What?
- Eagle... flight.

Sir, are you all right?

Eagle... (man mumbling)

I can't make out what he's trying to say!

I've... been... murdered.

Sir?

- Sir?!
- He's out cold, George.

He's gone cold, Henry.

He's dead.

We thought he was just three
sheets to the wind, sir,

then we realized he was
trying to tell us something.

I've been murdered.

- And then he died.
- Right at our feet, sir.

Thank you, Henry. Doctor?

Well, if we can consider the constables'

account accurate, he may
well have died from a seizure.

"Edward Graham. Surveyor
for the Timiskaming

and Northern Ontario Railway."

Sir, and his appointment
book has a meeting for today

at 5 o'clock with C.A.M.

at M.D. and A. I have no
idea what that could mean.

Alright. Gentlemen,

let's notify his next of kin.

♪

I can't imagine it, Detective.
He only just arrived home

this morning, unexpected at that.

He was so excited, so happy.

I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Graham.

I understand your son was a surveyor.

Yes. He was under contract
to the Ontario Government

for the new northern railway.

You say his visit was unexpected.

Do you have any idea why
he returned to Toronto?

I don't. All he told me

was that our fortunes were about to change.

- How so?
- He didn't say.

He hurried right out to
take care of some business.

He returned with a small parcel
and put it in his suitcase.

- And then what happened?
- He was so happy.

He took a drink to
celebrate, which surprised me,

him knowing I don't approve.
I scolded him for that.

Oh, dear Lord,

my last words to him were in anger.

Mrs. Graham, what time
would this have been?

Around midday, I believe.

Hmm...

Um, I wonder if any of these abbreviations

mean something to you.

"M.D. and A."

That could very well be
Murphy's Dining and Ale house

just down the road. Edward
liked to socialize there.

And C.A.M.?

I couldn't say.

Thank you.

Just one final question, Mrs. Graham.

What does "eagle flight" mean to you?

Nothing at all.

(door closing) Detective!

- Doctor.
- The only physical evidence

I've found is a venous
congestion of the brain.

I am inclined to believe
he may have been poisoned.

Doctor, have you the
flask that Mr. Graham had

- in his possession?
- I do.

According to his mother,

Mr. Graham took a drink,

presumably from this flask.

Whiskey. Approximately one hour

prior to collapsing dead
on the Station House steps.

There are a number of poisons

that could manifest the
same way as in Mr. Graham.

I'll endeavour to determine which one was

- put into his whiskey.
- Thank you.

So Graham came here because he
knew that he'd been poisoned?

Why didn't he go to the hospital?

Well, sir, if he believed
he'd been poisoned,

perhaps he wanted to alert the authorities?

What's this "eagle flight"?

The last words that Graham
uttered before his death.

You know, Murdoch, that
makes perfect sense.

There's a brand of whiskey
called Eagle's Flight.

Horrible stuff! He was
obviously trying to tell

- Crabtree how he'd been poisoned.
- Sir, I believe you may be right. Hmm!

- Oh, well.
- Sirs, Mr. Graham's suitcase.

Thank you, George.

It's locked. Do you have a key?

No, sir. Mrs. Graham didn't have the key.

However, if you'll allow me...

Let the dog see the rabbit.

(Brackenreid): Thinking
of a change of profession?

No, sir. Just trying to hone my skills.

- Oh.
- I've almost got it there now.

- Crabtree, move it.
- Sir, I've almost got it.

Move!

- There you go.
- I softened it up for you.

Hmm... Well, there doesn't seem to be

anything of any importance.

Graham's mother did say that
he stowed something in here.

Just a moment, sir.

The outer dimensions of the
case appear to be much larger

than the inner ones.

Sir, a secret compartment, perhaps?

I love a secret compartment.

Not so secret anymore.

A hand-drawn map. Likely of the area

Graham had been surveying for
the Northern Ontario railway.

Look what we have here.

Sirs, this is what Mr. Graham
must have been talking about

when he said their "fortunes
were going to change."

Or perhaps it was money
he was planning to use

in his upcoming meeting with C.A.M.

- ♪
- (indistinct conversations)

Edward Graham?

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

Constabulary? What's this about?

Sir, Mr. Graham is dead.

What?

But I was to have met him here today.

- Yes. And you are?
- My name is Charles Arthur McCool

- MP for the Nipissing Region.
- C.A.M.

- You're a member of Parliament?
- Indeed, sir.

(woman): Hurry up, children! This way!

What was Mr. Graham's business with you?

Oh, I do not know. I've never met the man.

But you agreed to a meeting with him?

Well, I knew him by name!
He wrote a report that led

to a change in the route
of the Timiskaming railway.

- What was this change?
- Well, he proposed that a run

due north of North Bay to Dymond

instead of along Lake
Timiskaming to Haileybury.

- And you supported that?
- I took his advice!

Were you expecting recompense?

Exactly what are you insinuating?

Sir, Mr. Graham was found

with a great deal of
money in his possession.

Bribery?! How dare you accuse me

- of such chicanery?!
- I'm simply trying

- to ascertain the facts.
- I will have you know that I have never...

I have never accepted
so much as one red cent

of dirty money.

Again, what was Mr. Graham's
business with you, then?

I am as curious as you, Detective.

I believe the poison was
put into the victim's flask.

But any odour and taste is masked
by the cheapness of the whiskey.

So you can imagine the
difficulty I'm having.

I'd be happy to help.
Poisons have always been

- a particular interest of mine.
- Excellent! I ordered

a new nest of rats to
help with the testing.

- When do we start?
- Well, they arrive tomorrow.

Do you have a hidden talent I'm unaware of?

I don't, but I know someone who does.

Provincial records show
that one Harold Richmond

bought great tracts of land
in and around Haileybury.

The original proposed
terminus for the railway line.

Where might we find this Mr. Richmond?

His residence is listed in Haileybury.

Haileybury is where Mr. Graham
had been staying while surveying.

- Perhaps they knew one another?
- Richmond would have lost

a lot of money after Graham
changed the proposed routes

of the railway. Right then.

Pack your bags. You two
are off to Haileybury.

♪

(woman): Watch the trunk!

- What have you there, George?
- My pillow, sir.

There will be pillows in Haileybury.

Yes, but this is my pillow,
sir. I can't sleep a wink

without it. I discovered that
on our trip to Newfoundland.

You realize we'll be trekking
through the woods, George?

Yes, exactly, sir. All the
more reason to bring it.

- Ah.
- All aboard

to North Bay and points beyond!

♪ [dramatic build up]

Sir, the only time I've been up this way

before was to visit my Aunt Nettle.

Not nearly as exciting as this trip.

George, you do not have
an aunt in Haileybury?

Well, not anymore, sir. She
moved back to Newfoundland.

- Why?
- She couldn't stand

the mainland, sir. Terrified of moose.

Excuse me. Pardon me.

Pardon the disruption, gentlemen.

- Jagger Brown's the name.
- Uh, Crabtree,

George Crabtree. This is
Detective William Murdoch.

A detective. Well, I'll have
to mind myself then, mustn't I?

I'm a prospector.

It's not an easy life, but
if you know your way around

a claim, you can make one heck of a living.

- What are you searching for?
- Oh, Detective,

the true prospector is not out in search

of one single substance.

Nay, the prospector roams
like the hunter of the plains,

waiting until his prey
is discovered to strike.

(woman): You're no prospector,
you're a damn greenhorn.

Excuse me?

- What's a greenhorn?
- A gink

who thinks he knows
something about prospecting.

They shouldn't let the
likes of you out of the city.

Excuse me, but regardless
of experience, I believe

everyone has an equal right to
prospect as he wishes, Ma'am.

Don't call me that. The name's Mack.

Oh! My apologies, Mack.

I wonder, when we reach the
end of the line, could you

- direct us to Haileybury?
- Yeah, you can tag along.

You haven't said much.

Strong, silent type.

- Oh!
- I like that in a man.

Well...

(phone ringing)

(Ogden): Inspector, I took
the liberty of entering

your painting into an amateur competition

at the Littlewood Gallery.
I'm sure it will be

well received. Julia.

- Stand down, Doctor.
- I see you found my note.

- I did, and I forbid it.
- I really feel

you're overreacting. Your
painting is quite lovely.

Any fool can see that my
painting doesn't belong

on a wall with the likes of
these. I mean, look at them!

- Even the leaves are perfect!
- What does that matter?

You have just as much
right to share your efforts

with the public. I
don't see the harm in it.

The harm, Doctor, is
that I will be humiliated.

- I wish I could convince you.
- Well, you can't.

I couldn't help but overhear.

I must say, I agree with the lady.

Who are you? Are you a painter?

Why, yes. I... I painted
this sign right here.

But I'm also a student of art.

Your painting is the best I've seen so far.

- Are you having me on?
- Not at all.

Yours is the only original

- of the bunch.
- (Ogden): That's very nice

of you, young man. Unfortunately, the
inspector seems to have made up his mind...

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses, Doctor.

Perhaps I should share my
efforts with the public.

So you will accept his
critique but not mine.

I've always been a big
believer in consensus, Doctor.

(man): Yeah, that's fine there.

(men talking)

Sir.

Sir, you've no tie or collar.

- No need, George.
- This here's our guide.

There aren't enough horses for all of us,

but a couple of donkeys
should do the trick.

(lively music)

(donkey braying)

There we are. Leave it to the
Newfoundlander to catch a fish.

Excellent work, George!

Perhaps you could gut it,
sir, as were I caught it.

These ought to sweeten it right up.

Who would have thought you'd
find wild parsnips in these parts?

- You don't want to be doing that.
- What? They're just parsnips.

Those are not parsnips; that's kaagaaiminj.

Kaga... Excuse me?

Kaagaaiminj. That's
Algonquin for water hemlock.

Highly poisonous. It can
be identified by the vein

travelling inward to the notch of the leaf.

You know Algonquin?

Oh, a bit. Enough to trade.

I was a lumberjack a long time ago.

Say, did you happen to guide
a man named Edward Graham

last Tuesday, travelling
from Haileybury to the train?

I guide many people. I don't ask names.

Over here, Georgie. (She spits.)

- Let's gut that fish together.
- ♪

- (howling)
- Sir!

Sir, do you hear that?

Wolves, George. Miles away.

- Miles away?
- Mmm-hmm.

Very good.

- (twig cracking)
- (animal trilling)

Sir, that wasn't miles
away, did you hear that?

It's probably raccoons, George.

Raccoons, oh.

Sharp teeth though, sir.

And ornery, raccoons.

- (aggressive beastly screaming)
- Oh, what was that?!

It's nature, George,

nothing more than that. Just nature.

Nature.

Well, I'm not sure I care for it.

(unknown animal scream)

- (lively music)
- (man): Make sure you get that ready.

(indistinct talking)

(donkey braying)

(indistinct conversations)

Thank you.

I wonder if you happen

to know a Mr. Harold Richmond?

Everybody around here knows Richmond.

- Keeps me in business.
- He frequents the inn?

Regularly. He'll likely be in later,

strutting about the place like a peacock.

And another man. Edward Graham,

do you know him? Sure.
He keeps a room here.

Oh! I'll be needing his key as well.

- No.
- Sir, Mr. Graham is dead.

I am a police detective
investigating his murder.

I demand you relinquish that key at once.

You pay his bill, you get his key.

How much does he owe?

26 dollars and 37 cents.

Sir, what if we get caught?

We don't have 26$.

Well, nor do we have the
authority to break and enter.

(clicking) Ah.

Excellent work.

Sir, is this surveying equipment?

Yes, George.

The drawer is locked, sir.

That shouldn't be a
problem for you, George.

This is all prospecting equipment.

Not uncommon to find in these parts.

(clicking) Got it, sir.

That's odd, it's empty.

I wonder...

What does it mean?

- I have no idea.
- A code of some sort?

It's possible.

But without knowing the orientation

or knowing what these symbols mean,

it's impossible to know what
Mr. Graham was recording.

Well, sir, that symbol looks like the moon.

And that's the symbol for man.
Do you suppose he could have...

No, George. I don't suppose that Mr. Graham

had encountered moon men.

Um, I was thinking more along
the lines of astronomy or...

- Oh.
- Either way, sir,

it must be important. Otherwise
why would he have hid that map

in his suitcase and these
symbols locked away in a drawer?

Indeed, George. Right.

Lock these away in your
room and meet me downstairs.

We need to speak with Harold Richmond.

- Sir.
- ♪

Yes, I knew Graham.

I couldn't stand that bastard

and I'm not sorry he's dead.

Why is that?

I staked my fortune

on the land all around Haileybury.

The railroad was supposed to end right here

so I bought up everything that
wasn't on the Indian reservation,

then that lunatic Graham
had the line rerouted.

Why does that make him a lunatic?

Because it makes no sense.

Look, either Graham

was an incompetent
surveyor or a lying thief

who falsified his reports
for his own purposes.

- What purposes would those be?
- I don't know,

but I've hired my own
surveyors to find out.

Mr. Richmond, is there anybody
who can confirm your whereabouts

- for Thursday evening past?
- No. I was at home.

I haven't been in Toronto in
months if you're asking that.

And when did you last see Edward Graham?

I'm not sure, some weeks
ago. Are you accusing me

- of killing him?
- Did you?

Ha! Of course not.

I didn't get rich by being stupid.

Alright, do you know of
anyone else who may have been

upset with Mr. Graham?

He would know.

It's Frank Gowdy. He
was Graham's assistant.

Dead?

Dear Lord! How?

This's what we're trying to ascertain.

Do you have any idea why Mr.
Graham traveled to Toronto

- earlier this week?
- He didn't say.

He left quite suddenly. I assumed

it was a personal matter.
He had family in the city.

- Did he have any enemies you know of?
- Haha! More than a few.

A lot of people were counting
on that railway coming through.

Any of them that may have wished him dead?

Harold Richmond, I'm sure.

And there was a woman
that he used to, uh... see.

Terribly jealous. Mad as
a wildcat when he left her.

She even followed him down to Toronto.

- But she lives here?
- She's drinking

right there at the end of the bar.

There he is.

My big, strong copper.

Miss... Mack.

- I wasn't talking about you.
- I understand that you were

in an intimate relationship
with Mr. Graham.

- So?
- Well, I regret to inform you

that Mr. Graham was recently
found dead. Murdered.

Well, uh...

I didn't do it.

So, George, what about a drink?

- You were in Toronto.
- No flies on you, eh?

- We were on the train together.
- I also understand that

Mr. Graham had recently
parted ways with you.

I don't know what you heard,

but I parted ways with
him. And none too soon.

George, a drink?

Perhaps another time... Mack.

Sir, her manners could use some refinement

to be sure, but do you think
she actually killed the man?

She did not seem at all
seem surprised at the news

of Mr. Graham's murder.

And George,

poison is traditionally a woman's weapon.

Excuse me, would I be
able to borrow this board?

- You will be bring it back?
- Yes.

(indistinct chatter)

(rats squeaking)

Even a small drop of the
liquid from Graham's flask

was enough to kill this rat.

There's no burning of the mucous membranes,

so we can rule out arsenic, cyanide,

- strychnine.
- I activated carbon

I made from ground nutshells
and gave it to this rat.

- He's still alive.
- So the poison is not a strong acid.

We should also rule out alkali, iron...

lithium, ethanol and the like...

leaving us with a multitude of
plant-based poisons to consider.

The rat is still in metabolic acidosis.

Have you considered
treating it with an antidote

- of sodium bicarbonate?
- Of course.

If the rat responds, it would
narrow down the type of plant.

Thank you.

Come here, little fella. Let's
see if we can make you better.

Harold Richmond admits to
wanting Edward Graham dead.

He would have lost a potential fortune

with the rerouting of the railway.

- Mr. Gowdy?
- No apparent motive, although

he did have had the most
access to Mr. Graham's flask.

And the woman, Mack,
sir, she was in Toronto.

And jealousy is a powerful motive.

Indeed, George. Let's hope Dr. Grace

is having some luck identifying the poison.

Once we discover what killed Mr. Graham,

we'll be in a better position
to discover who killed him.

Sir, I wonder if we could
continue this tomorrow.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course, George.

It'll be good to sleep
with a roof over one's head.

I didn't catch a wink last night.

The pillow didn't help?

♪

(sigh)

Hello there, Constable.

You said, "perhaps another time."

Well, that time has come.

Oh my.

(shaking doorknob)

- George?
- Ah! Uh...

one moment.

(sighing) Sir,

thank God it's just you.

Who were you expecting?

Sir, that woman Mack has
been trying to seduce me.

I found her there in my bed when I got back

- to my room last night.
- Oh.

Sir, I escorted her out
directly, make no doubt about it.

She broke in here, George?

Sir, it was quite unexpected.
I realize that women find me

quite the catch, but that
is no way to win a man.

George, is it possible that
she was after something else?

Sir, I'm not making it
up. I found her right there

in my bed. I've spent
the whole night in a chair

against the door! I didn't catch a wink!

George, she went to the
trouble of breaking the door.

Is it possible that her
motives may have extended

beyond the charms of one George Crabtree?

Oh no! Oh no!

Oh, sir...

Graham's papers are gone.

No.

(rat squeaking)

It appears our little friend's
breathing has improved.

Well, that narrows our search.

It would likely be among
one of the poisonous plants

- that grow here in Ontario.
- What about wolfsbane?

No. That would have caused asphyxia.

White baneberry?

The symptoms fit,

but it's the fruit that's poisonous,

and it's out of season.

"Conium Heculatum."

No. No, it's not hemlock.

But Cicuta Maculata!

Water hemlock.

"Difficulty breathing. Convulsions."

- That matches the symptoms.
- Emily, I daresay we've found our poison.

- Thank you, Julia.
- My pleasure.

I will telegraph the detective immediately.

Ah, Doctor! There you are.

- Is something the matter?
- Oh, on the contrary.

My painting is about to
be judged later today.

I was wondering if you would come with me.

- I should be honoured.
- Ha.

(men laughing and talking)

Where is the map?

- What map?
- The map you stole

from Constable Crabtree's room!

What?!

You were in Toronto when Graham died.

You were alone in
Constable Crabtree's room.

You are, at the moment, our prime suspect.

George's door was open.

I thought it was an invitation.

(George): Sir, I assure
you, it was firmly locked.

It was open, I swear.

Whatever you may think,

I don't normally have to
force myself into a man's bed.

If you didn't open the room, then who did?

I passed the greenhorn in the hallway

on the way up to George's room.

Jagger Brown?

Mr. Brown, the Detective would
like to have a word with you.

Certainly. Um...

Ugh!

No! My money! Money! Money!

- (yelling) Come on!
- Gimme that!

Gimme my money! Gimme my money!

Ruffians! Get off, my friends! Gimme!

Mine! I got it!

- That money belongs to me!
- George.

- Let go!
- Hey!

- (Gowdy): Ha!
- (man): That's my money!

All right, all right, all right! All right!

Where are the maps you stole?

What maps?

Empty your pockets, Mr. Brown.

What?

They're gone. Where could they have gone?

No, wait, wait. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

(indistinct conversations)

Roses in a vase. Seen that before.

Yes. But there's no denying it
was painted by a capable hand.

These are quite good, I suppose.

I rather like this one.

This one?! It's all just lines!

Not even a tree in sight.

- Where's my painting?
- Perhaps it's been moved.

You there, what's happened to my work?

Did no one from the gallery
inform you? It's been stolen,

- I'm sorry to say.
- Stolen?!

How the bloody hell did that happen?
How many other paintings were taken?

- Only yours.
- I suppose it could be taken

- as a compliment.
- I always said it was the best in the show.

A thief with good taste
is a thief nonetheless.

I'll get Worsley onto it.

Do you suppose I'm still
eligible for the $10 prize?

You have yet to provide
a satisfactory explanation

for all of the money in
your briefcase, Mr. Gowdy.

My affairs are none of your business.

Perhaps as the new lead
surveyor, you required a healthy

bribe from Mr. Richmond
to return the railway here.

I did not require a bribe
to return the railway

to its correct path.

Mr. Richmond's contribution
was an added bonus.

You were going to redirect
the railway here regardless?

Of course. I don't know
why Graham was so intent

on moving it. His plans made no sense.

He even falsified our surveys to support

- his proposed route.
- Did you confront him about this?

I've only just discovered it
since going through his files.

- I have no idea why he did it.
- (George): Sir.

Thank you, Mr. Gowdy.

I would like to speak with
you further about this.

At your service.

Sir, Mr. Brown here
claims the maps are gone.

He says they must have been
stolen in the kerfuffle just now.

In any case, they're not on him.

(Brown): Not that I could make
heads nor tails of them anyway.

- Good luck to whoever's got them.
- Thank you.

Mr. Brown, you were acquainted

- with Mr. Graham, were you not?
- Never met the man.

- I beg to differ.
- Beg all you want.

I didn't know him and you can't prove it.

This telegram proves otherwise.

You were seen with Mr. Graham in Toronto.

- Seen?! Who saw me?
- You were seen!

And Mr. Brown, you know
nothing about prospecting.

What are you doing here?

How did you know Mr.
Graham's maps were important?

I was in the assayer's
office working the books

- when he came in.
- Graham?

Yes. He had a nugget. It must
have been the size of his fist.

I only stole the map.
I didn't murder anyone.

A nugget? Nugget of what?

- Silver, Detective.
- Silver?

He told the assayer there was
plenty more where that came from.

I knew it had to be around here somewhere.

Right, Mr. Brown, thank
you. You're free to go.

Sir? I have to admit some confusion.

Dr. Grace's telegram ascertains

that Mr. Graham was indeed
poisoned by water hemlock.

Sir, how does that prove that Jagger
Brown was seen with Graham in Toronto?

It doesn't, George. The
telegram makes no mention

- of Mr. Brown.
- But you just...

Sir, you were bluffing!

I was prospecting, George.

At any rate, Dr. Grace's
findings prove that Mr. Brown

- could not be the murderer.
- How so?

- You don't want to be doing that.
- What? They're just parsnips.

He was going to feed us all water hemlock.

He didn't know it was poisonous.

No. But everyone else here does.

So, Mr. Graham rerouted the
railway to protect his silver find.

Then why meet with a politician in Toronto?

Surely, if he had falsified
surveys, that would be enough

for the government to comply
with his recommendation.

I think it has something to do

with the Native reservation, George.

(George): A bribe, sir?

Perhaps he bribed a member of
Parliament to seize Indian land?

So he could lay claim to it himself?

Which would mean that there is silver

somewhere on the current reservation.

Which means whoever has the maps knows
about the silver and where to find it.

And they're one step ahead of us.

Excuse me, may I see this?

But... you haven't given
me my chalkboard back yet.

Sir, I... we are police officers.

We will bring back your chalkboard.

The symbols, George. The crescent moon.

- Silver.
- ♪

There.

The northernmost point of Long Lake.

Thank you.

Ah, Doctor.

I was just thinking which
of my other paintings

are good enough to be stolen. Ha! Ha!

The gallery found this.

My painting.

It seems the thieves
discarded it in the alley.

Oh, they stole it for the fancy frame.

It appears so, but the
painting can be salvaged.

I know someone who cleans canvases.

- he might be able to help.
- Forget it.

Bloody thieves were right.

What's the point in salvaging
something that has no worth?

- Inspector, I...
- Thank you, Doctor.

Now, if you don't mind, I have quite
a bit of work to be getting on with.

♪

(sighing)

- (birds singing)
- Sir, how do you know

which way we should be headed?

Well, George, the bottom
tip of the crescent moon

was just north of the
top edge of Long Lake.

Yes but, sir, how do we
know the silver is not

right in the middle of
it? Or at the top of it?

That's a good point, George. We'll
have to explore the entire area.

(sigh)

Sir!

Look at that.

- Could that be silver?
- I believe it is, George.

Look at this.

It's a carved inscription.

"Edward Graham, The 5th of August, 1902."

Graham staked a claim here.

There should be 4 more of these

outlining the claim in its
entirety. But they would be

on stumps still in the ground.

Sir, stumps like this one, sir.

But it's not his name.

"M. McCarthy." Mack.

"September 7, 1902."

Edward Graham staked this claim,

and then, Mack...

put her name ahead of his.

(George): She was trying to jump his claim.

Yes, George, I believe
Mack killed Edward Graham.

Sir....

I believe you're right.

I'm sorry, gentlemen,

but I have to protect my claim.

Edward Graham's claim has no legitimacy,

neither will yours. This is Indian land.

Once the Government sees
that there's silver here,

they'll see to it that
this land becomes fair game,

and I will become a very rich woman.

So of course, you understand
why I have to do this.

- No!
- Sir!

(Mack cocking her gun)

I don't suppose you
want to share my wealth?

Oh, well. I'm so sorry

but I have to shoot you too.

(gunshot)

(Mack moaning)

- Sir, are you all right?
- George?

Sir, are you alright? (Murdoch groaning)

The medicine woman here took
the bullet out of your shoulder.

You've been in delirium, in and out,

but you're past the worst of it.

They've been very good to us here sir.

This man saved your life.

Thank you.

Thank you.

_

_

_

_

Migizi Pimise.

It's your name? In English,

it means Eagle Flight,

doesn't it?

You know the properties of water hemlock.

You poisoned

Mr. Graham's flask when
you guided him to the train.

Am I speaking the truth?

Why?

Silver. If people found
out, then we would...

You would lose your home.

Can you deny that you won't take it away?

Can you deny we won't
be removed from our land?

I... I... I can't. But that's not

- what's at issue here.
- Go home.

- No!
- Sir.

Gentlemen, please don't, don't.

Then, you will die here,

your bodies never found, both of you.

- Others will come for us.
- We will run.

And they will chase you!

Migizi Pimise, you...

you are under arrest

for the murder of Edward Graham.

- Sir, they saved our lives!
- You have no authority here.

This is not your world.

We do not follow your laws.

Yes, you do. Yes you do,
and you are coming with me.

Will you add our 2
lives to your conscience?

- I am protecting my birthright.
- And I am doing my duty.

As I had to try and do mine.

Go while you still have your lives.

George...

- I don't...
- Sir.

- I don't...
- Sir!

(Murdoch coughing)

(knocking) Inspector Brackenreid?

Oh, hello.

- What can I do for you?
- I'm sorry to disturb you,

but I was hoping you might sell me
your painting from the exhibition.

- Sell it to you?
- If you would.

I'd like to try my hand at the canvas.

Not to paint pale imitations
of the natural world,

but rather to paint its essences as you do.

I'd be prepared to pay.

Oh... Oh well, I'm flattered,

but it's not for sale.

I'm thinking of reentering
it in the next exhibition.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Hold your horses, hold your horses.

The prize money was $10. It's yours for 15.

- 15?
- Take it or leave it.

Alright.

15. Wise choice. Mr...?

- Thomson. Tom Thomson.
- Ah, well,

Mr. Thomson, I hope I can
provide some inspiration.

- Good day.
- Good day to you too.

(Brackenreid laughing)

- Bloody fool!
- Inspector.

Mrs. Brackenreid is on the telephone.

Something about a missing picture frame.

Oh... Oh, bloody hell.

Thank you.

Migizi Pimise turned himself in yesterday.

I suppose he knew someone
would come looking for him.

- And the people he was with?
- They moved further north.

It won't go well for them, will it?

The silver will draw prospectors

like moths to a flame.

Migizi Pimise started a fight

he couldn't possibly hope to win.

But surely, they have a
treaty that will protect them.

Let's get you to bed.

Our government is made

of men of good conscience.

Let's hope they honour it.

_

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