All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S14E01.WEBRip.x264-TMN

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

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, with...

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

on 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 was 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?

Oh. 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 instances.

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 so...

I'm sorry...

Oi! That's enough!

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

Break it up. Break it up.

All right, sir. You're coming with us.

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.

George, 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

well, 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?
- Well, wanted, you know. 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 some
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 could 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.

A 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're 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, 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

otherwise 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?

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