All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S14E01.WEB.x264-PHOENiX

I'm so excited for Victoria Day.

The city just comes alive.

You said the same
thing about Easter.

Well, the city comes
alive at Easter, too.

Is there nothing about
holidays that excites you?

Well, there is one thing.
You come alive.

Moving pictures.

When are they going
to give up on that?

Nobody likes them.

I quite like
the pictures.

I once saw one with
creatures from Mars.

Oh, I hear there's gonna
be vaudeville tonight.

Acts from all over.

Now that sounds all right.
Nomi?

How lovely.
Certainly.

Thomas,
isn't that that Inspector?

The one whose wife
has the glass eye?

Ah, I think so.

They were so charming,
we should go say hello.

Not right now,
Margaret.

Why not?

I owe the inspector
a few dollars.

Ah, excuse me, ladies.

I need to have
a word with Murdoch.

Sir, you're just in time.
I have an announcement.

Spit it out then, Higgins.

Ruth is with child!

Oh. Congratulations, Henry.

Ah, procreation. The human race
is nothing if not relentless.

That's marvelous.

I didn't think you had it in
you, Higgins. Congratulations.

That's terrific, Henry.

But shouldn't cigars
and celebrations wait

till the actual birth?

I mean, not just at
the announcement

of something that's
months away?

Who cares!

We'll have cigars
and celebrate every day.

To Hieronymous
Higgins-Newsome!

No, no, it's all wrong.

Where did
we find you wet-brains?

Were you grown
on a dirt farm?

George, that's...

Obie Stratford!

Aha, some fans
of vaud I see.

I hope you'll be
at the show tonight.

I've got acts coming
in from all over -

not to mention
yours truly.

Ah, look at this
lovely lady.

I tell you, the way ladies dress
in the big cities these days,

whoo- wee.

I tell you if styles
keep advancing

I hope I live
five years longer.

Is that meant
to be funny?

I believe the joke lies
in the incongruence

of the lasciviousness.

Just enjoy it.

Obie Stratford is
the biggest star in vaudeville.

That's right.

And tonight - all the biggest
stars will be gathered here.

But none will shine
as bright as Obie Stratford!

What in God's name?

My God. He's dead.

It would appear he fell

out of that
fourth story window.

Fell, or jumped.

Perhaps he wasn't
a fan of vaudeville.

Like yourself.

He was a vaudevillian
I'd wager.

This is the hotel where
I'm putting up all the acts.

So, you knew him?

No.

Comics are
a depressed lot.

You put enough of us
in the same place,

one of us is bound to
jump out a window.

Detective,
I think your line of questioning

may need adjustment.

Oh? What have you, Miss Hart?

The man was dead
before he fell.

Cause of death?

I can't be certain yet.

But the presence
of petechiae and what appears

to be a metallic contact burn
suggests electrocution.

Curious.

I feel awful.

I know in my head
I'm glad for Higgins

but when he told us
I felt bad.

He has something you hope to
also have someday in your life,

a moment of jealousy
is perfectly normal George.

Did you feel the same?

-No.
-Honestly?

Do you know me as a man
prone to fabrications?

I believe this is it.

Suicide note.

"...I can't take
it anymore... goodbye."

Written
in block letters.

The bathtub is empty but
the mirror is still fogged

and there's wet towels
on the floor.

This lamp is broken.

So the man had a bath,
either pulled the lamp in

or it fell in somehow.

Either way, he died
of electrocution,

cleaned things up
and jumped out the window.

Not likely.

Was there any
identification?

I can tell you the man's name.
Kenny McClusky.

How did you know him?

I'm staying in the hotel,
met him last night.

Absolute riot.

The only amusing man in
the city other than yours truly.

And you are?

I'm the funniest man
in the world.

Charlie Chaplin.

What happened to
the poor sucker?

Who wants to know?

Arthur Carmichael.
Charmed.

Carmichael.
I knew your father.

Really?

Sad business, that.

I can't say I
cared for him.

Nor did I.

You're that city coroner,
aren't you?

I've heard of you.

Good for you.

The coroner's office does
not release any information

about pending cases
to the public.

McClusky was just off
the train from Detroit.

Said he didn't know
a soul in Toronto.

If he knew no one here,

who would have
wanted to kill him?

I don't know.

But Kenny knew
how to make enemies.

He was an insult comic.

His whole act
is making fun.

Did you see him
insult anyone last night?

I certainly did.

There was one man
in particular

who was hopping mad.

William, there you are.
Any developments?

As a matter of fact,
Mr. Chaplin is taking us

to a person of interest.

Indeed, and if you'll
pardon my interruption,

here he is now.

You there, what
was your name again?

Ed Ward!

You're Ed Ward?

-You said it, pal.
-You're not Ed Ward.

We've met Ed Ward
and you sir are not he.

It must be a
different Edward.

What's your surname?

I just told you.
My name is Ed Ward!

He is Mr. Ward,
given name "Ed".

Ed Ward.
Ha ha.

Oh, that's quite clever.

Did you simply steal
Mr. Ward's name and persona?

Steal? Of course not.
I bought it.

The name, the image, the props
- the whole she-bang.

You paid money for...

Mr. Ward, I understand
that you met a Mr. McClusky

in the hotel bar
last night.

Kenny? Yes, that's right.

Threw himself out
a window, did he?

Well,
we're not so sure about that.

Fess to it, man.

You almost killed Kenny
last night with your bare hands.

I did no such thing.

He likened your hair
to a mass of dead rats

and you just about
throttled him.

Mr. Chaplin, please.
I'll conduct this interview.

I wasn't angry
at him for that.

I was angry because he was
a disrespectful halfwit

who wouldn't know
real vaud if he sat on it.

Oh dear!

It's my...

Flatulence sack.
Hilarious.

Anyway, the man was alive
and well last I saw him.

He was wandering off
with the kid here,

and his little friend -
who, by the way,

also seemed pretty annoyed
with McClusky.

Now if you'll excuse me,
I have no intention

of touching this
investigation with a ten -

nay, eleven-foot pole!

An eleven-foot pole?

For the things I wouldn't
touch with a ten-foot pole!

Something worse.

Worse than he would touch
with a ten-foot pole.

Mr. Chaplin.

Your friend was also annoyed
with McClusky last night?

Yes, that's true.

But Stanley
wouldn't hurt a fly.

Detective.

This is my understudy
and my best friend

in the whole wide world.

Don't just stand there,
introduce yourself

you simpering clod.

Sorry, yes.
Stanley Laurel.

Lovely to meet,
you Mr. Laurel.

It's devilishly hot
in here, isn't it?

No.

Need I write a statement,
so you have a record, Detective?

That won't be
necessary at this time,

Mr. Laurel.

Now I understand you
met with Mr. Chaplin

and Mr. McClusky
last night?

Only for about
an hour or so.

It's true I was
rather cross with Kenneth.

He called Charles
a nasty name.

I shan't repeat
it of course.

Fat-headed dope.

It isn't true, Charlie.

Oh dear...

That's why it's funny.

Like when I call you
an upside-down halfwit

or a desiccated cow-pat.

Well, I don't care for
hearing my friend referred to

in such a manner.

Now, Mr. Laurel, when did
you last see Mr. McClusky?

When Charles and I
told him goodnight.

But I did hear him later on.
There was an argument.

What? When?

This was after you
went to sleep, Charlie.

In the hall
at the hotel.

A screaming match, really.

What about?

I don't know.

But it involved
Mr. McClusky.

Yes. He was arguing
with Obie Stratford.

Dammit Stanley!

You, you - you're paying
to have this cleaned.

You simpering
little clod!

Everyone is just so funny!

I'm afraid I won't be attending
the vaudeville tonight.

No? Why's that?

Something came up.

Margaret was quite looking
forward to it. So was I.

Having you with
us, I mean.

Maybe another time.

No--

My apologies.
I noticed a curious...

Something the matter?

No.

You can confide in me.

I was out with my daughter
when I saw a fellow Inspector.

She knew that I was
avoiding him because...

It's happened before.

It's strange, isn't it?

The things we've been told
to pretend don't exist.

I find it hard lying
and hiding things.

How do you do it, Watts?

The same as you.

I feel bloody awful.

Precisely.

Mr. Stratford, a witness
overheard you arguing

with the deceased
last night at the hotel.

And yet you told me
that you had never met him.

I never said that.

I said I didn't know him.

Meeting someone in passing is
not the same as knowing them.

You argued.
What about?

He greased someone's palm
and ended up with my room.

"Your" hotel room?

I'm the host, I'm the
biggest name in vaud.

I arrive
and they've given my suite

to some kid
from Detroit?

So the argument
became heated.

And so what of it?

The manager knew who I was,
he handled things.

Yes, but Mr. McClusky
ended up dead.

Maybe he killed himself because
he didn't like his hotel room.

He did not defenestrate
himself, Mr. Stratford.

He was murdered.

Well, I got what I wanted.
Why would I kill him?

Perhaps he insulted you.

You became angry.

I don't get angry!

I-- I was standing
right here when the man

nearly fell on my head!

How in God's name
am I meant to have killed him?

Rather choleric chap.

He does make a good
point though, sir.

I don't see how it
could have been him?

Perhaps he had help...

Oi! You there! Stop!

What is it, George?

Sir, I was sure I saw someone
back here with a knife.

With a knife?

Yes, I'm not sure what
he was doing with --

Look George, this rope.

He was trying
to cut it. But why?

It's tied off here,
to these counterweights

and connected
to that large beam.

Sir, if he made
it through the rope...

It would have fallen directly
onto Mr. Chaplin.

Dear God.

Has someone just
tried to kill me?

This is mad.

Why would anybody
want to kill me?

I don't know...

but this must connect back
to Mr. McClusky in some way.

Mr. Chaplin.

What room are you
staying in, in the hotel?

416. Why?

I think I know
what happened.

Come with me.

416.

But this isn't my room.

No.

But it was Mr.
McClusky's room.

Room 419.

The killer mistook
it for 416.

Indeed.

Then the killer, thinking he
was in Mr. Chaplin's room,

stalked toward the tub -
again, expecting to find

Mr. Chaplin inside.

He throws the lamp into
the bath, electrocutes the chap,

and only afterwards realized
he's got the wrong man.

I don't mean to
dwell on the issue,

but are you saying someone
tried to kill me twice?

Let's assume that
the killer was indeed

trying to kill Mr. Chaplin
in both incidences.

George?

I apologize, sir.

I'm preoccupied with how poorly
I took Higgins' news.

Ah yes.

I too have had unwanted
feelings from time to time.

About this very issue.

Children you mean?

Well yes, George.

Seeing how happy Henry is,
it's only natural

that one would
feel disappointed

that you don't have
that for yourself.

But there are
other joys in life.

Some of which, one may not
be able to truly appreciate

if he were to be carrying
the responsibilities

of parenting.

Yes, I suppose that
makes sense, sir.

I still feel what's missing,
from time to time.

But when I look at it in
the bigger picture of my life...

I can't help
but feel grateful.

And satisfied things are

the way they are.

And if ever that doesn't work,
you can always try

keeping your
mind occupied.

Yes, sir. Right.

You know, I was thinking,
after our last run-in

with these vaudeville types
it seems to me jealousy

and resentment run
rampant among them.

Professional jealousy
could be a motive.

Yes. But furthermore, sir,
Mr. Chaplin is a young man,

so too was our victim.

Perhaps the old guard
are feeling threatened.

Who among the old guard
would be willing

to kill to protect
his position?

You think I'm killing
young performers?

For what, to save my job?

That's madness!

I've been trying to
retire for years.

I can't!

Sure, Ed Ward could
take over the show.

But what would
people be watching?

Just a prop comic and who,
Charlie Chaplin?

Who's going to
want to watch that?

Well, is it possible,
Mr. Stratford,

that some of the less
successful performers

felt they are being supplanted
by these younger acts.

Could someone have
a professional grudge

against
Charlie Chaplin.

Who would bother?

Look, I don't know if I can
be any clearer about this:

These kids,
they're not funny.

Detective, there's a man
who says he witnessed

someone holding
a knife near the stage.

Ah, very good.

Stop! What are you doing to him!

Perhaps I should
look into that.

I'll go with you.

Thank you.

Julia.
Mr. Ward.

Oh, William, watch him.
He's hilarious.

Mr. Ward, I understand
you're am eyewitness.

Yes.

I saw someone with a knife

skulking around
backstage earlier.

Who was it?

Well I couldn't
see the man's face.

Only his silhouette.

But his hat was
rather distinctive.

How so?

Hold on, I have
one just like it...

No, no,
it's here somewhere...

Mr. Ward.

Oh. Here, this is it.

A derby just like this,
except the brim was bent.

Like so.

May I see that?

Sure thing.

I think I have another
one in here anyway...

Julia, really?

He's funny!

Please. Even I am
funnier than that.

I'm sorry...

Oi! That's enough!

I'm sorry,
I didn't mean it, Pa!

Break it up. Break it up.
You're coming with us.

Here, take him
away McNabb.

You danged melon heads!
What do you think you're doing?

We're stopping your father
from beating the tar out of you.

He's not beating me.

It's a show, you morons!

I'm fine. Look.

That's incredible!

It really is all
part of an act.

Sure. We're a family act.

That was my Pa,
Joe Keaton.

And I'm Buster.

Most impressive.

Constable!
Bring him back!

Don't worry, son,
we'll let your father go.

Just a moment.

Who is this young man?

Uh, Buster Keaton, sir.

Master Keaton?
Is that your hat?

Sure.
Well, only since lunchtime.

Oh, Give it to me, please.

Finders keepers,
that's the law, ain't it?

Not really, no...

It's monogrammed.

The pie is Fred's gag,
Stanley.

We need something new.

I had an idea about bread
rolls and dinner forks, but...

Ah, Detective!

Gentlemen.

Do either of you
recognize this hat?

It could be anyone's, why?

This hat matches
exactly the description

of the one worn
by the saboteur.

-This hat?
-Yes.

And it has a monogram inside.
The initials: SL.

Now hold on...

Stanley.

This is your hat.

You tried to kill me!

No... no...

Mr. Laurel,
you are coming with me.

It is my hat, Detective.

But I swear to you,
I would never hurt Charlie.

The attempted murderer
was seen wearing this hat.

You see I was
rather frantic.

I found someone who
recommended a cleaners

to get that blasted ink
out of Charlie's shirt.

And I wrote the directions
on a piece of paper

and put the paper
inside my hat.

But on my way
I got rather turned round

and retrieved
the paper from my hat

and somewhere
in the process

managed to lose it.

My hat, I mean.

You put down your hat,
retrieved your piece of paper.

And in so doing
somehow lost your hat.

Oh, I am forever
losing things, Detective.

I swear to you it's true.

Why would I want
to hurt Charlie?

Professional rivalry.

You are, after all,
Mr. Chaplin's understudy.

It is an honour
and a privilege to learn

from someone so talented.

Charlie Chaplin
is my best friend.

Sir, we've spoken with the
other members of the troupe.

And it appears Mr. Chaplin
is not a considerate colleague.

The others
didn't like him?

There is animosity.

Now, that's it.

Mr. Laurel
worships the ground

on which
Charlie Chaplin walks.

Maybe one of
the others did it.

Well, Mr. Chaplin
and Mr. Laurel arrived

ahead of the others.

The rest only arrived
this afternoon.

So, what do you think?

Did this Laurel
chap do it or not?

He doesn't seem capable, sir.

He's entirely deferential
and clumsy and clueless.

Well, that's what he
wants us to believe, George.

He is a performer,
after all.

But all we have for
evidence is a hat,

which he says he lost.

It's true.

Our only evidence is
circumstantial at best.

The vaudeville show is tonight.

If he didn't do it,
it would be a shame

to keep him away.

The question is:
Is he funny?

Julia seems to think so.

Release him.

Me and the missus
want to see a good show.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Alright, George,
perhaps you and Watts

should go to
the vaudeville tonight.

Oh, yes sir.

But don't be
distracted by the show.

You must keep your eyes
on Mr. Laurel at all times.

Right.

Nomi.
I know why you're upset.

It was obvious why
I avoided the inspector.

You have to understand
that men like him

wouldn't accept the idea
of you being my daughter.

You mean he
wouldn't accept you

if he knew
I was your daughter.

That's right.

I know.
I'm not angry.

Well, then come to
the vaudeville tonight.

And what would happen

if the same situation
were to arise?

You can't say you wouldn't
do the same thing again.

No.

Or perhaps this time
he'll approach you,

expecting an introduction.

What then?

I don't know.

I don't think I'll be attending
the vaudeville tonight.

Nomi, you have to
understand --

I do.
You made a difficult choice.

And I'm not saying
what you did was wrong.

It's the world
we live in.

Yes.

And it made clear what
we both know to be true.

That we can't be
family in public.

And if we are to try,
it would only be painful

for both of us.

Excuse me, father.

Higgins -
hold up a moment, Henry.

-What is it, George?
-Look.

I wasn't feeling myself
when you gave us your big news.

And I just
wanted you to know

that I am truly
delighted for you.

I mean, it may be the
greatest thing that can

happen in a man's life
and you deserve it.

Cigars are appropriate
every step of the way.

Thank you, George.

I knew you'd be
excited for me.

That's why I wanted you
to be Hieronymus' godfather.

Really?

Wanted.
Ruthie vetoed it.

Vetoed?

Miss Hart, isn't it?

Would you care
for some company?

Why would I want that?

You seem to be alone.

I'm going to watch
the vaudeville tonight.

Company would only
hinder my enjoyment.

Well, that depends
on the company.

Maybe it would be
better than the show.

That would have to be
awfully impressive company.

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

How are you?

Very nice
to see you indeed.

This is Obie Stratford's
vaudeville revue...

I'll only be a moment, gents,
I need to find my things...

Wherever have they got to?

What exactly are you
looking for, Mr. Laurel?

My case.
Everything's moved round.

Your suitcase?

Yes, brown, yea big.

All right,
we'll help you look.

Your nose
is a deeper maroon than my hat.

Slow down on
the drinking, sir.

You'll drive your horse
into a bale of hay.

I kid, sir, I kid.

My father once told me,
he said, son,

you should always know when to
stop if you're going to drink,

and I said I do
know when to stop.

At the next
place I come to.

That's right.

This is heavy.

What kind of act
uses iron gates?

Look.

It's all been placed right
beneath the trap door.

Look at this. It's barely
held in by a single nail.

I'd Like to bring
him out right now.

His name is
Charles Chaplin!

Please welcome,
Charlie Chaplin.

Come on out here, Charlie.

Why is Obie Stratford
sharing the stage?

He's a monologuist.

I don't know.

But if Chaplin steps on this
he'll fall right through.

And onto these gates.

Thank you, ladies and gents!

Wait! Wait!

What?
What's happening down there?

Stop!

Somebody is trying
to kill you!

What?

I said somebody
is trying to kill you!

Constable George
Crabtree, everyone!

We had barely begun!

Did you really have to
call off my entire show?

This trap door was
deliberately sabotaged,

so that the moment
someone stepped on it

they would have fallen through
onto dangerous iron gates.

Mr. Chaplin could
have been killed.

That had nothing
to do with me.

Why did you invite
Mr. Chaplin onto the stage?

I felt like giving
the kid a break.

It wasn't planned.

No one,
even Mr. Chaplin it seems,

knew that it was
going to happen.

Meaning you are the only
person who could have lured

Mr. Chaplin to his death.

I like the kid.

He's at least a little
funnier than the others.

Which may be precisely why
you are trying to kill him.

This again?

How could it have been me
who cut one of these ropes

when I was with you
the whole time?

You could
have had an accomplice,

just as you had someone make
a show of nearly crushing you

with Mr. McClusky's body
right here on the stage.

Ridiculous.

Unless you have proof
of any of this, I'm leaving.

Look, I'm a young man.

I know I'm not known to
every household in America.

But I'll tell you this -
every town I arrive in,

I'm more famous
when I leave.

And I leave many
pleased in my wake.

Women love a man
with a sense of humour.

So long as he is also
terribly handsome.

Look at this.

Tonight I performed
for barely 30 seconds

before the show
came to a halt.

A young lady
still left me a note

hoping for
a romantic rendezvous.

That is quite something.

May I see that?

How do you know
it's from a young lady?

It could be from
an old lady.

Or a young man.

Jealous, Detective?

Mr. Chaplin, I believe
this could be a ruse.

Whatever do you mean?

Someone is trying
to kill you.

And immediately following
their latest failed attempt,

you receive an invitation
to meet someone, alone,

in a secluded place.

Oh my.

Sir, are you suggesting this
note invites Charlie Chaplin

to a rendezvous with death?

I would not put it quite
that dramatically, but yes.

Well, that's settled.

Rip it up.
I shan't be going.

Actually, Mr. Chaplin.

I believe you will go.

rendezvous is set to take
place at this park bench, here.

Now, the Inspector and myself
will position ourselves here,

with a clear
vantage of anyone

approaching from
either direction.

Constables will be
positioned here and here,

in order to intercept
any potential attacker.

And what about me?

What about you?

I want to be there too.

I don't want anyone
killing someone

as funny as
Charlie Chaplin.

Julia.

We'll position you
somewhere with a pram

to keep an eye out.

My question is, how
can we be sure that someone

won't take a shot
at Chaplin from a distance?

Unfortunately,
we can't.

However, I believe
Obie Stratford

to be our most
viable suspect.

Now Watts, you will be
following Obie Stratford

the entire time
and you will remain

in constant wireless
communication with me.

I'm meant to wear this?

But sir, we know that
Mr. Stratford couldn't

have been personally
responsible

for each attempt
on Chaplin's life.

Exactly.

That is why we are taking
extra precautions

to ensure no harm
comes to Mr. Chaplin.

A bulletproof vest.

A metal hat to work
as a protective helmet.

Rubber- soled shoes
to guard against

any attempted electrocution.

And a smaller
waist-worn version

of my portable
communication device.

Why can't I use
this smaller device?

I only had time
to make one, Watts.

If I need all this...

We already know someone
is trying to kill me...

And you're saying you want
to concoct a scenario

to allow him to try
to kill me again?

If I may, the killer
concocted the scenario.

We're merely
trying to use it.

By using me as bait.

Well, not bait,
more like,

well, bait,
but with protection.

Thank you, George.

No. Absolutely not.

The risk is too high.

Not just for myself,
but for the world.

I detest immodesty,
as you all know.

But to deprive the world
of Charles Chaplin

is to deprive
the world of laughter.

That is not a loss
I can accept.

Oh,... no, no, no, no...

This is ridiculous.

Sir, I can barely
move in all this.

This hat is very heavy,
not mention far too small.

I can barely
button my jacket

over the bulletproof vest.

And your communication device
means I've had to wear trousers

that are far too large.

So too are these rubber
shoes, so large in fact,

I had to put them
on the wrong feet

to keep them
from flying off.

George, you're only meant
to look like Mr. Chaplin

at a distance.

You'll be covering your face
once you're at the park bench.

Mr. Chaplin,
you stay put.

I can barely
walk in this.

I know.
Crabtree, grab this.

You like
a bloody tramp.

Good work, George.

What do I do now?

Just stay put.

We'll alert you
if anyone approaches.

Watts. Where are you?

At the midway,
Inspector.

I can see Stratford...

he's at the top of the ladder,
taking down a banner.

Good. Tell us if he moves.

Sir.

Do you
think that's the killer?

It's not Stratford.

Sir, it's not
Mr. Stratford.

But it could be someone
working with him.

Sir, is that him?

It's not Stratford.

No, but is it the killer?

We don't know, George.

Should we stop him?

Wait...

Oh, it's just a passerby.

George, can you hear that?

-Hear what?
-That.

-It sounds like a--
-A ticking.

Did you say
a "ticking" sound?

Yes sir...

the trash can beside
me is ticking.

Sir, do you remember when
I showed you the replica

of an alarm clock
wired to a bundle of...

TNT.

Someone's set
a bloody bomb.

A bomb?

George, don't move. Don't move.

It could be rigged
to the bench.

Good lord.

Julia, get away
from the trash can.

Right now.

I'm terribly sorry George.

Don't mention it.

This is how Stratford's
trying to kill Chaplin

without being
here in person.

So what do we do, Murdoch?

I'll have to try
to defuse it.

And what if it goes
off before you can?

Then George
won't die alone.

George.

Oh.

What is it?

These wires are crossed.

It's harmless.

So it isn't
going to go off?

Not unless someone
were to re-wire it.

The explosive isn't even
attached to the alarm clock.

So the killer
has botched

another attempt
on Chaplin's life.

But in a clever enough way
that we couldn't catch him.

Unless it was never meant
to go off in the first place.

-It's my...
-Flatulence sack.

Ed Ward.

He's used his flatulence sacks
to hold this bomb together.

Sir. Why was Ed Ward trying
to kill Charlie Chaplin?

He wasn't.

Ward didn't get
the room number wrong.

But he thought someone else
was going to be in that room.

Until he demanded a suite,
that was Obie Stratford's room.

After killing McClusky,
he saw another chance.

When he sliced that rope,

he wasn't trying to
hit Charlie Chaplin,

but the man
standing beside him.

But sir, the stage trap
door that was sabotaged

to harm Chaplin...

George, Charlie Chaplin was
never supposed to be on stage.

Obie Stratford
isn't the killer.

Obie Stratford has been
the intended target all along.

Sir! Sir!
The midway!

What?

We have to get
to the midway.

Stay out the way.

The midway!

George, George!

The midway, Julia!

Watts, Watts,
Obie Stratford is in danger.

I need you to
detain Ed Ward.

Who?

-Ed Ward!
-Edward?

-Yes!
-Edward who?

This isn't a joke, Watts!

What's funny
about "Edward"?

Nothing! Nothing!
The prop man.

I need you to arrest him
- but don't let him know

you're onto him or he's
likely to pull that ladder

right out from
under Stratford.

I'm supposed to arrest him
without him knowing

he's being arrested?

Exactly.

And what's his surname?

Doh!

Sir...
Wait, I'm coming...

What are you doing?

Stop shaking this ladder!

Stop it! Stop it!

No! Stop!

Help! Help!

I have had it!

Not only can you
not find a murderer,

this whole town
smells like a hog!

You're welcome.

Now that's something.

You're under arrest!

Julia.

Alright now.

Stop! Police!

Ed Ward!

Wait!

There he goes!

Julia! Julia!

William!
This is hardly the time!

Stay right here
and hold the wire.

Bloody hell.

Ed Ward,
you are under arrest.

Magnificent!

Yes, I was trying to kill
Obie Stratford all along.

Of course I was!

You wanted his job.

I deserved it!

You purchased
your entire act.

So?

He promised it to me!

Kept saying
he was going to retire,

the show would be mine.

You killed a man and nearly
killed several others,

just to advance
your career.

My career?

It wasn't just
for my career.

It was for the people.

He's not even funny!

Mr. Carmichael.
What are you doing here?

Impressing upon you that
my company is worth keeping.

And you're doing that by
showing off your wealth?

Well, you already know
how attractive I am.

You've never had to work
for a thing in life, have you?

No. Does it matter?

No.

Constable.

That costume you
were wearing...

Is there any chance
I could purchase it from you?

Mr. Chaplin, those items
were designed to be used

in the solving
of a murder.

I don't see what other
applications they could have.

And they were very
uncomfortable.

I felt like a penguin trying
to balance an anvil on my head.

I'll have to
make my own then.

Charlie, Charlie I have it!

I have it.

What is it?

A film!

I sent Stan to
see those film men

that were
set up on the midway.

They captured
the whole arrest!

What on Earth
would you want that for?

I plan to study it.

George's costume
was marvelous.

But this man at
the centre of everything,

stoic in the face of chaos.

He's the funniest
man in the world!

Him?

Oh yes.

This...

This is going to be big.

Well, well, well.

William Murdoch,
the funniest man in the world.

How about that?