All language subtitles for Endeavour.S05E06.BluRay.1080p.DD5.1.H265-d3g (2)

♪ Requiem ternam ♪

♪ Dona eis, Domine ♪

♪ Et lux perpetua luceat eis ♪

If I might have
everyone's attention.

As you know,
since the merging

of City and County
to create Thames Valley

the future of Cowley Police
station has been in the balance.

I have this day received news
from Division.

The station is to be reduced
to a skeleton staff

by the 23rd of the month.

And will be closed--
permanently--

at midnight on the 30th.

Details of future placements

will be sent to each of you

in due course.

I know I can rely on all of you

to discharge your duty

with the same professionalism

I have come to so admire

these past years.

That's all.
Carry on.

♪ Christe, eleison ♪

♪ Christe, eleison ♪

♪ Christe, eleison ♪

♪ Christe, eleison ♪

It's a remarkable
stroke of good fortune

that you should be able
to join us at such short notice.

Well, I'm very grateful for
the opportunity, Headmaster.

Coldwater has a long history,

but I like to think
we live in the present

and look to the future.

Of course, Mr. Ivory coached
the First Fifteen.

Oh, and was he also responsible
for the end of term school play.

Oh.

What play?

Shakespeare, I believe.

That's just the cadets.

Coldwater has a great
martial tradition.

Now in addition
to your classroom duties,

you will also act
as House Master to Foxhole.

Ah, Mr. Bodnar.

This is Mr. Morse.

The new man
with the Lower Sixth.

Oh, perhaps you could care

to show him to his room?

Yeah, of course,
Headmaster.

But I look forward to seeing you
in chapel for Assembly.

Right, sir.

Ah, welcome
to "St. Bastard's."

"Ye who enter here,
all hope abandon."

Thanks.

Alun Bodnar.

Fifth Form
and Chemistry.

Have you been here long?

Oh, long enough
not to mind anymore.

Found my point
of neutral buoyancy.

I lack ambition.

That killer instinct.

Don't run, boy!

Though I daresay
that could be rekindled.

It's just this way.

He was married, wasn't he?

Mr. Ivory.

Yeah, that's right.

Headmaster's letting her stay on

at one of
the gatekeeper's cottages

just till the end of term.

Kate.

Nice girl.

I hope you'll let me stand you
a pint at your earliest.

Yes.

Thank you.

You want me to pose
as a teacher?

It's Division's idea.

Bring in an outside man.

How's that, sir?

Some on uninvolved,

fresh pair of eyes
on the situation.

Seems a lot of trouble to go
to for one missing person.

Who is he?

John Ivory.

Classics Master
at a boys' school

called Coldwater.

Last seen leaving
the village pub

shortly after 6:00
on October the 4th.

The local detective inspector
and his bagman lost their lives

in a road traffic accident
with an articulated lorry.

We've found no evidence
that connects them,

but understandably,

Division are keen to close
the case one way or another.

It's all in there.

Just see if you can't get under
the skin of the place.

If there was anything
untoward,

the staff might be more inclined
to confide in one of their own.

Oh, there is one more thing
worth mentioning.

You won't be alone.

I take it upstairs think that
the women at the school

are more likely to confide
in another woman, is that it?

I suppose.

It don't seem much like
proper coppering to me.

Tomorrow's world.

Pity.

I'd hoped we might get
one last decent collar together.

This Cromwell Ames character--

Eddie Nero--
both if we're lucky.

Maybe they'll cancel
each other out.

It's who else they cancel out

in the meantime
that's what bothers me.

I've got Fancy on surveillance.

Something will give
sooner or later.

We should be getting back.

No, another five minutes
be all right.

God, I love this place.

You should've
seen their faces--

Win and the kids--

when I brought 'em here
for the first time.

We'd been two-up,
back to back in the Smoke.

Couldn't believe
somewhere like this existed.

Not after bomb sites
and soot.

Was like stepping out
of black and white

and into color.

You still mean
to go through with it?

Station closing?

Decision's made for me.

Too set in my ways
to start over somewhere new.

Besides, Win'd have my guts
if I let her down now.

No.

Each thing in its season.

You'll be right.

This undercover caper
up at the school

is only a week or two.

I went into
the village today.

How was that?

The shopkeeper said
one of the boys

used to come in
on Ivory's behalf most days

for 40 Fusiliers,
and a half bottle of whiskey.

Really?

And how was the pub?

The wives of respectable
young schoolteachers

don't go into pubs
by themselves.

So what did the landlord say?

Ivory did stop by
on the night in question.

Had a couple of drinks,
and then left about 6:15

to meet see someone
called Agnes.

Agnes what?

Davis, maybe?
The landlord couldn't be sure.

Ivory was always bragging about
some woman or other.

Really?

The garage was closed.

What are the boys like?

I don't know,
I haven't met them yet.

What are we doing?

This is such a waste of time.

Just following orders.

Division clearly thinks
this is important.

It's not every day
a detective inspector

and his bagman
die in a car crash.

It's happenstance, surely.

Nothing sinister.

Hm.

Have you checked upstairs?
This afternoon.

There's no sign
of the previous occupants.

It's all rather spartan.

The plumbing's
positively medieval.

The sink's backing up.

We might have to get
a man out.

It's just the one bed,
I'm afraid.

Well, I can take the couch.

Don't be ridiculous.

How's that going to look
if someone comes knocking?

"Dearest Mother."

Give it back!

"Thank you for the ten shillings
you sent me for my birthday."

You know the rule, squit.
Hand it over.

Oy! Stop that at once!

If I've to repeat myself

you'll all be on detention
till the end of term.

Is that clear?

What's going on?

Natural selection, sir.

Survival of the fittest,
sir.

Mensch und Ubermensch, sir.

Go on, all of you.

Go on!

What's all this?

Praetorians' Privilege,
sir.

To beast the squits.

Well, if it happens again,
you come and see me, all right?

Go on, on your way.

Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.

Hey, wait a minute!

- Aggravine.
- Adsum.

- Babcock.
- Adsum.

Clunchfist.

Adsum.

Dakin.
Choir.

Gaudibund.

Adsum.

Morris Minor.

Adsum.

You mean Morry Thou, sir.

That's what Mr. Ivory
used called him, sir.

After the car, sir.

It's a joke, sir.

On account of his
being a Jew, sir.

Well, we'll have
none of that here.

I don't mind, sir.

Well, you should.
But he doesn't, sir.

I heard him. Thank you.

Um... Nero.

Here.

Adsum,
you bloody oik.

Queach.

Adsum.

- Rowntree.
- Absum, sir.

- Abest.
- He's not here, sir.

- I see.
- He was expelled, sir.

Cast out, sir.
Banishéd, sir.

Black-balled, sir.
Consigned to outer darkness,
sir.

I see, thank you.

Summerhead.
Adsum.

And Zec.
Choir.

Right, Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Lines 225 to 230.

Daedalus and Icarus.

Right.

Oh...

Let's get one.

Brett Nero?

Eddie has kept that quiet.

That could be why Division're
taking such an interest.

If Nero's son's at the school?

Mr. Bright would have mentioned
it if that was the case.

It's just happenstance surely,
his kid's got to go somewhere.

Well, if her condition worsens
then please give me a call.

Thank you.

I'm sorry I couldn't find
a telephone.

The office telephone
is for school business,

not personal matters.

But I suppose
if it's urgent.

You're the new man.

That's right, Morse.
Miss...?

Mackenzie.

Ravenna.

I think you're supposed to be

on break duty?

Ah, yes.

There's a pay phone,
in the vestibule.

For next time.

Thank you.

Get down!

Sounds like you had
a close shave.

I've had closer.

Cromwell Ames?

I can't have you pair
shooting up the town

like it's the Wild West.

Somebody's going
to get hurt.

I nearly got hurt.

Somebody that matters.

He's already tried
for you once.

He won't get a second go.

If you know where he is...

Past that now.

I told you at the start
not to take the law.

There's a reckoning due,
but it's ours to make.

Better get your skates on,
then, hadn't you?

Word is, your nick's

going out of business.

Don't get caught
on the wrong side, Eddie.

You're no good to your boy
banged up or worse.

Coldwater must be
a pricy touch.

You leave Brett out of this.

For now.

Mind how you go.

Is there any news, sir?

News?

About Mr. Ivory, sir.

The police came, sir.

Talked to all of us,
sir.

But they couldn't find him, sir.

And now they're dead, sir.

Who are dead?

The policemen, sir.

Car crash, sir.

With a lorry, sir.

It was in the paper, sir.

Yes, so I hear.

That was bad luck,
wasn't it, sir?

Burning to death
in a car, sir.

What a way to go, sir.

The papers said it was
an accident, sir.

But was it
an accident, sir?

Well, there's no reason
to believe otherwise.

Do you think Mr. Ivory
had an accident too, sir?

I don't know.

What do you think?

Well, you liked him, did you?

Liked him, sir?

He was a master, sir.

We liked Mrs. Ivory, sir.

- He was married, sir.
- Yes, I know.

Are you married, sir?

Mrs. Ivory?
I'm Mrs. Morse.

Shirley.

My husband's taken over
the Lower Sixth.

We're in your old house.

Rose Cottage.
A letter came for you.

Oh.

Uh... thank you.

I'm sure it's
the last thing you need,

but I wondered if you might
like to come to supper.

It's my husband's first school
since we got married,

which makes it
my first school altogether.

I'd be grateful for any advice.

When were you thinking?

Yeah.

Have you spoken
to Mr. Bright yet?

Well, he's got a lot on his mind
at the moment

what with the station
being wound up.

Well, no better time,
I would have thought.

I know it's a big step,

but it's for the best.

While we still have our health.

I know.

You're not still fretting
over Morse?

No.

I've set him on his way.

Got some room
for rice pud?

Skin on?

Smashing.

Oh, Charlie called.

I said you'd call him back.

I'll get it!

Jim...

Sorry to drop by late, sir,

but it looks like young George's
got a lead on Ames.

Shirley?

What an enchanting name.

I'm a black belt.

Seventh Dan
and Ex-Territorials.

Feel that.

Go on.

Rock hard that is.

It's like granite.

Well the police came,
of course--

not that I was able
to tell them anything.

I was at home with Ravenna,

my daughter having supper,

and then we listened to a
concert on radio, didn't we?

That's right.

Mahler.
The Five.

Your wife tells me
you were at Bamfylde?

Yes, that's right.

Is Old Wilkie still stinking
the place out with sulfur?

I don't remember him.

What about Popperynge?

Pop, the boys used to call him.

To be honest,
I wasn't there long enough

to get to know
any of the masters.

- Ah, Matron, are you well?
- Yes, thank you, Headmaster.

Mr. Morse,
I am sorry to trouble you.

Mm-hmm.
Do you have a moment?

Yes, of course.
Would you excuse me?

Armed Police!
Hands in the air!

Cromwell Ames?

Who wants to know?

DCI Thursday,
Thames Valley Police.

Cromwell Ames,
you're under arrest

for suspicion of murder.

You do not
have to say anything,

but anything you do say
will be taken down

and can be given in evidence.

It's one of the fifth years.

A boy called Stanlow.

Perhaps you could talk to him

while I get fresh linen
on the mattress.

He wets the bed.

Ah.

It's Mrs. Seymour,
isn't it?

We've not been
properly introduced.

I'm Morse.

How are you and your wife
finding Coldwater?

I think she'll be happier
if she had a little more to do.

I don't suppose you could use
a spare pair of hands?

I might.
Part time.

There wouldn't be much money,

but if you really think
it might be of interest,

tell her to come and see me.

Liam Flynn.

Sometime collector for
Eddie Nero's extortion racket.

Stabbed to death in May.

Burt Hobbs-- lorry driver.

Family man.

Just about to celebrate
his ruby wedding.

Had his head bashed in

at Waddington Junction

when a mob hi-jacked his load
of Kilorran whiskey.

Lloyd Collins.

Fence for the whiskey.

Stabbed to death in a lock-up
in the arse end of Cowley.

A black cockerel
was left next to him.

Its head cut off.

Sounds like voodoo to me,
mister.

You don't want to mess
with that.

We know what you're about.

You're looking to take over
Nero's turf.

Never heard of him.

I'm just a car dealer.

I'm sorry, sir.

I had a nightmare.

I'm all right now.

It's all right.

What's all this?

Mr. Ivory said
we should look to the lives

of great men
as an example, sir.

Did you like Mr. Ivory?

Yes, sir.

Very much, sir.

He wasn't like
the other masters.

Oh, how's that?

He was kind.

He used to call me Dak, sir.

I think it's short
for "Daktari."

It's a program
on the television

about a vet in Africa.

There's a lion in it
called Clarence.

That's my name too.

I'll get the matron
to bring you some warm milk,

would you like that?

Go on.
Hunker down.

Seems a nice boy,
Stanlow.

He's troubled though.

His parents
are getting a divorce.

Ah, it's difficult
on any child.

To some degree
they always blame themselves.

The other boys bully him.

He's not sporty.

Something of
a teacher's pet.

Mr. Ivory protected him
so far as he could, but...

Why would Ivory protect Stanlow
from the other boys?

I don't know, but he did.

Has Ames said anything?

As little as possible, sir.

His brief is with him now.

A big cheese up from London.

Claiming alibi?

A good dozen witnesses
will swear he was elsewhere

at the time
of each of the killings, sir.

All bought and paid for,
presumably.

Including the attempt
on Nero's life?

In London, sir.

At the Bunny Club.

There's...
photographs to prove it.

We've let him go,

but I've told Fancy
not to let him out of his sight.

There might be some progress
with Morse at the school, sir.

The missing persons case.

He's had a shirt
left in his desk.

Had a driver pick it up
in the early hours.

Over 20 stab wounds,
according to Dr. DeBryn.

Murdered, then?

Certainly looks that way, sir.

If it's Ivory's shirt.

O Caesar...
Hence!

Wilt thou lift up Olympus?

Great Caesar...

Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

Speak, hands for me!

Et tu, Brute!

Then fall, Caesar!

It's mostly
coughs and colds.

Mumps, measles.
Chickenpox.

But anything serious,
then we get the doctor out.

Otherwise,
it's housekeeping.

Are you sure you won't be bored,
Mrs. Morse?

Not a bit.

And do call me Shirley, please.

How long have you been
at Coldwater?

Ten years now.

And before that I was
district nurse for eight years.

I'd imagine a matron's
the eyes and ears of a school.

Can't be much that goes on here
you don't know about.

Hm, I don't know about that.

What do you think happened

to Mr. Ivory?

You don't suppose anyone here
could have...

done something?

There was no love lost

between Ivory and Blackwell,
apparently.

On the evening in question,
they had words.

Ivory was meant to be
looking after the film show,

but he ended up ducking out
and Blackwell got roped in.

That's hardly motive for murder,
is it?

Well, Mrs. Seymour thought

there might be
something more to it.

Huh?

Who do you think left the shirt?

I don't know.

It's either someone
trying to help.

Or it's a threat.

What do I remember about
the night Ivory went missing?

Mm-hmm.

Funny sort of thing to ask.

No not really.
Dead men's shoes.

Or dead men's class,
in my case.

I'm living in his house.

Well, there's not a lot

I can tell you.

He was meant to run the film
for the boys,

but then at last minute
said he had

some sort of family emergency
and left me to it.

What did you make of him?

He was all right.

Now what's this?

Oh, Stanlow won't fire
a rifle.

Will you, Stanlow?

Arms up, boy!

Up!

He's got it into his head
he's a little pacifist.

Little coward,
more like.

So he's under
heavy manners.

See if we can't...
correct his thinking.

"Make Britain Greater."

Bloody right.

We were a force
to be reckoned with once.

Not now.

Going cap in hand
with a begging bowl...

...taking in rubbish from
half the places we used to run.

Well, look, best get on.

Give my regards
to your wife.

She's a good looking girl.

How d'you ever manage
to snare a piece like that?

Charm.

How are you finding the boys?

Oh, I think we're still

getting the measure
of each other.

They seem to have held
your husband in some regard.

John was very fond of them.

I don't suppose
there's any news

from the police as to what
might have happened?

Morse.
No.

No, it's all right.
I don't mind talking about it.

In a way, it reminds me
that it's real.

Sorry...

Presumably, the police spoke
to everybody at Coldwater,

at the time?

Oh, yes.

The usual questions,
I'd imagine.

"Any money troubles?
Did he have any enemies?"

After a week or so,
it just went very quiet.

Ah.

Sorry, I'm a bit early.

Hello.
Hello.

Hello, Kate.

How are you?

Morse and Shirley have been
spoiling me.

Quite right too.

Early for what?

I'm here to lead
your husband astray.

A pint or two at the local.

Well, don't let us stop you.

Well, it was lovely
to have met you.

Hopefully we'll see you again.

I'm glad the Lower Sixth

got someone nice
to look after them.

He seems nice.

Alun?

Yes, he's been very kind.

Thursday, C.I.D.

Oh, hello, Charlie.
I was going to ring you.

Everything all right?

Yeah, course.

Tonight?

Well, I suppose I can.

Round 9:00 do you?

All right.

Until then.

I mean what do you think
happened to Ivory?

Oh, Christ.
Not him again.

You're like
a scratched record, man.

You said you didn't click.

How come?

He spoke to the boys' baser
instincts.

Their lesser angels.

Oh...

And he was a bully.

He inspired the same
in others.

That's quite a charge.

I taught most of the boys
in your form.

They were all right till Ivory
got hold of them.

Have you ever been bullied?

Aye-aye, Charlie.

Oh, thanks
for coming, Fred.

What's all this?

Well... I don't know
where to start.

Well, the beginning's
usually favorite.

Just tell me.
What's up?

I got took, Fred.

What do you mean,
you "got took?"

I had to borrow some money.

I thought they were on the level
to begin with.

I just got more and more behind.

They said I could work it off
through the business.

What d'you mean?

Using the company's
good standing.

Credit.

Goods.

Loans from the bank...

You've been the front
for a long firm fraud?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

What about my money?

Oh no.

No, no, no.

A loan, you said.

A short-term loan, Charlie.

I thought I could buy 'em off.

It's gone, Fred.

I'm going away.
We're going away.

Before you get lifted?

What did they do with my money,
Charlie?

The check.

Can it be traced back to me?

I...

You've done me, Charlie!

My whole life.

Everything I've worked for.

You've dragged me
into the sewer.

I didn't know.

Don't lie to me!

Look.

I'm sorry, Fred.

I had to do it
for Paulette, for Carol.

What about me and Win?

It was our retirement!

Our life savings!

Now I got to live out
what I got left

looking over my shoulder
waiting for the knock?

Fred?

Fred!

Well, the parting
of the ways.

Here,
you better take this.

Don't you need it?
No.

I find my way back blindfolded
after all this time.

Go straight through the woods.

Follow the path
through a kissing gate

to the cottage.

Safe home.

Thanks.

You too.

He got in their heads,
Morse.

Ivory.

You see, cruelty's like cancer.

Starts with one cell.

And if it's left untreated,

it spreads,

till the whole body's
riddled with it.

You've got to cut it out.

You gotta... burn it out.

Kill it at the source.

Late, Fred.

Work?

No, I had to see Charlie.

In London?

Yeah.

All right, is he?

Fred?

How much?

Fred?

I just have to work a bit longer
than we thought is all.

You lent Charlie money.

Without telling me?

It was all meant to be paid back
by Christmas.

Well, it won't be, will it?

Please send in Mr. Morse.

Yes, Headmaster.

Sir.

DCI Thursday.

DS Strange.

Thames Valley, C.I.D.

I understand from Mr. Mackenzie
it was you

who found the body.
That's right.

What were you doing
wandering round a graveyard

in the dead of night,
Mr. Morse?
It's a shortcut

from the pub
to Mr. Ivory's old cottage.

Right.

Well, I'll need you
to come with me

and explain how it was

you came to stumble across
such a thing.

You can spare him
for a couple of hours.

Well, I'll have to get somebody
to cover the Lower Sixth,

but, um, yes, of course.

All right,
Mr. Morse.

All right there, matey.

Should've known
if anyone was going to find him,

it would be you.

Except I haven't.

It's not Ivory.

I couldn't say
when I called it in,

because I was on a public line.

But it's a boy called Rowntree.

He was expelled shortly before
Ivory went missing.

There's a letter to his parents
from the headmaster

in his blazer pocket.

Gentlemen.

Doctor.

What have we got?

Male.

Thirteen to 18
years of age.

Decomposition suggests
a time of decease

approximately
four to six weeks ago.

Cause, Doc?

No obvious signs
of foul play.

But I think we might assume

he didn't put himself
in the coffin.

Ivory's clearly been here.

And more than once
by the look of things.

He had a pupil fetched him
Forty Fusiliers

and a bottle of Scotch
from the village most days.

Meeting someone up here,
you think?

Who? Local tart or somebody?
Rowntree maybe?

Looks like he's setting up
a rendezvous.

"6:30 U.P."--
usual place?

Perhaps from Ivory?

All of the teachers mark
the homework in red ink here.

What put you on to it?

The door was open.

But it was also something
Trewlove had said.

The night that
Ivory disappeared,

he said to the landlord
at the pub

he was meeting
an Agnes Davis.

Agnes?

Older bird, maybe?

No, it wasn't Agnes Davis.

The landlord miss heard him,
it was Agnus Dei.

"The Lamb of God."

Ivory was partial
to a Latin joke.

So now we've got a dead boy,
and Ivory's still missing.

Poor show
from the locals

that they didn't
turn up Rowntree.

Maybe they did.

No mention of it
in the case file.

Well, perhaps there would
have been had they lived.

What are you saying?

It wasn't an accident?

Well, when was the last time
you heard of two police officers

dying in the middle
of an inquiry?

Is it true?

We were together all evening.

What's this I hear
about Cowley?

Do you know where you'll be?
No.

We're expecting letters.

In Oxford, though, still?

Place wouldn't be the same.

Any more on Ivory's shirt?

Twenty-three separate
stab wounds.

Any one of a dozen
could have been fatal

depending on the depth
of penetration of the blade.

But it was his blood group?

Oh, yes.

And made to his measurements
by a bespoke shirt maker

on Jermyn Street.

You've no idea
who left it in your desk?

No.

Nor why.

Well, I'm sure you'll get
to the bottom of it.

Furthers and betters on the boy
once I've had a rummage.

How long's all this
going on for, then?

You--
out here with Shirley.

Until we find Ivory,
why?

Just remember what's what,
that's all.

"What's what,"
what does that mean?

You know what it means.

Oh, grow up.

You know,
if you put as much effort

into your police work
as you do into your love life,

you might actually
get somewhere.

Rowntree?

But that's impossible.

We found a letter
to his parents

signed by you
in his blazer.

Why was he expelled?

He was a troublemaker.

Well, he wasn't a bad kid.

Bit lippy.

But sooner that than

some "Yes, sir," "No, sir"
little automated

"I'll happily watch you die
in a fire, sir."

But what happened?

Well, he was Stanlow Mark I.

Thick as thieves
with Ivory for a bit.

Ivory shielded him from the
worst of Blackwell's attention,

and then, I don't know,

about a week or so
before Ivory lit out,

they had some sort
of an argument

and, um...
well, Rowntree hit him.

Hit Ivory?

That's what he said.

I mean,
that's immediate expulsion.

Headmaster sent Rowntree home
with a letter for his parents,

and Ivory drove him
to the station,

and that was that.

That was the last
we saw of him.

As you were, Nero.

What's this?

Suetonius?
Yes, sir.

That's not
on the curriculum, is it?

No, sir.

Pinched it from the infirmary
for pleasure, sir.

Ah.

Is it Mr. Ivory, sir?

Out in the cemetery.

No.

It would appear to be
this boy Rowntree.

Rowntree?

Mm.

How...?

What happened?

Well, I don't know.

If there's anything
you'd like to tell me?

I'm not a grass, sir.

Can I go, sir?

Yes, you can go.

It's all right.

Don't panic.

I'm not about to
"blow your cover"

or whatever the jargon is.

Door-to-door.

Well, that's fine.

Except we weren't living here

when Ivory or this boy
were last seen.

I didn't know that, did I?

You okay?

I miss you.

It's only been four days.

Yeah all right.

Feels longer.

Do you miss me?

Look, you'd best push off.

All right.

All right.

I love you, Shirl.

Rowntree was
a sensitive boy.

A weakling,
I suppose you'd call it.

That's certainly
what Mr. Blackwell called him.

He...

He what, Mrs. Seymour?

He made him run around the field
in full cadet kit

until he collapsed
from exhaustion.

I wouldn't trust a word
out of matron's mouth.

She doesn't like me.

Never has.

It's not her word though,
is it?

It's here in the infirmary book,
in black and white.

You laid into Rowntree
so hard,

he was passing blood
for three days.

What do you think
you were doing?

Making men.

Real men.

Not lily-livered sissies.

Waterloo was won
on the playing fields

of places like Coldwater.

That's the problem
with this country today.

It's too soft by half.

Flogging?

Corporal punishment!

It never did me any harm.

Bastards.

Talking to a man
like that.

How dare they?

Did that not go well, then?

One day someone is gonna
shut that smart mouth of yours.

What the hell are you
looking at boy?

I've got a sick note, sir,
from matron.

I'm excused Games.

You are excused nothing,

you little weakling!

Steady.

On your way, Stanlow.

It doesn't look good
for Ivory.

Last man to see
the boy alive.

So far as we know.

Or maybe somebody here
did for them both?

Possibly.

But, the why of it--

that's where
I'm coming up short.

Well, whatever's behind it,
watch your step.

We've already got
two dead coppers.

Thanks.

All right,
thank you, Mr. Morse.

You've been very helpful.

We may need
to speak to you again.

Headmaster.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Leave him alone!

What did you say?

He's had enough... sir.

Please...

just... leave him alone.

Why don't you make me?

Huh?

Huh?

Tough nut?

We all know
whose son you are.

So why don't you
show us all...

...what you're made of?

No, no, no...

Sir!

You'd better
come quick.

What is it, boy?

It's Mr. Blackwell, sir.

Come on!

What are you going to do?

Come on!

What is the meaning of this?

Uh... Nero was trying
to interfere with me

in the execution of my duty.

Matron,
perhaps you and Mr. Morse

could see to Stanlow
and Nero.

I'm all right, sir.

Then Mr. Bodnar will take you
back to the dormitory

with the rest of the boys.

Mr. Blackwell,
I'll see you in my study.

It's all right,
I've got him.

You're very good,
aren't you?

Sorry?

See, I spoke to old Wilkie.

He doesn't remember a master

called Morse at Bamfylde.

So what's your story, hmm?

Who are you?

You can tell me
or the head teacher can.

I'm with the Education Board,

you should keep that
to yourself

if you value your position.

There've been some concerns
about Coldwater.

Ah.

It's called
character building.

Toughen them up.

Make them ready
for the world.

The boys know that.

It's Ivory messed
with their heads.

If you want to know
what happened to Rowntree,

you find Ivory.

They say that when you die,

your whole life flashes
before your eyes.

Do you think that's true?

It's a pretty grim topic

for somebody painting
their toenails.

What are girls
supposed to talk about, Morse?

Ponies?

Kittens?

Boys?

I saw your boy
this afternoon.

Oh, Lord.

I told him
not to get too serious.

I thought you liked him.

With the station closing down,

I've put in for a transfer,
to the Yard.

Have you told him?

I mean,
it won't change anything,

we'll still be able
to see each other.

But we're young.

We have to put career first now,
haven't we?

Well, a career won't hold you
at 3:00 in the morning

when the wolves come circling.

Do they come circling, Morse?

I think I should make my bath.

If I found someone...

...then all of this
wouldn't matter at all.

I'm just, clocking off, sir.

Ames is holed up
at an all night drinker.

Nights have got it covered.

I'll be back on the first thing.

Right.

Uh, wait a minute.

This... undercover case.

You've nothing
to worry about.

I'm not daft.

I've got eyes.

Morse is as decent
as they come.

And Trewlove's got her head
screwed on.

All this with Ames and Nero,

I need your mind on the job,
right?

Not fretting over nothing.

You can count on me, sir,
I won't let you down.

I know.
Good night, sir.

Night.

Right.

Lights out, you squits.

Win?

I'm going to Rene's.

But you're coming back, Win?

27 years I've stood by you.

For better or worse,
and you do this?

It was our future.

It was family.

And what am I?

You didn't even tell me.

I was trying to protect you.

Protect yourself,
more like.

I may not say much,
but I am not stupid.

And you're not the only one
around here who's got secrets.

Your own daughter!

What about her?
What about Joanie?

The taxi.

I'll run you.

Win...

No.

The boys have got
double chemistry with Bodnar.

So I'm gonna head into town
for a couple of hours.

See if there's any more
on this Rowntree post mortem.

Will you be all right?

I can take care of myself.

Yes, I'm sure.

But odds are we've still got a
killer on the grounds somewhere.

All right.

It's Mrs. Morse, isn't it?

Shouldn't you be
in form?

It's a free period.

Double.

Bunking off to the cemetery
for a smoke, is that it?

Join us if you like.

I don't think my husband
would approve.

He's not here, though--
is he?

I thought it was
off-limits to boys.

We're not boys,
Mrs. Morse.

We're Praetorians.

And a graveyard pass
is Praetorians' privilege.

Oh, I see.

Why don't you
come with us?

No, thank you.

Perhaps you don't
trust yourself, Mrs. Morse.

I beg your pardon?

With three strapping
Praetorians.

You're stoned--
your eyes have gone.

I think you'd better be
on your way

before you get
in serious trouble.

You could be the one in trouble,
Mrs. Morse.

These woods aren't safe.

No one to hear you scream.

No one heard Rowntree,
did they?

On your way,
Clunchfist.

Mr. Bodnar.

That's a month's Privs.

What are you doing
out in the woods, sir?

Or shouldn't we ask?

You too, Rackway.

The gatehouse lodge
is that way, sir.

If you're lost.

And Mr. Queach.

That's all three of you.

You shouldn't threaten us, sir.

What?

Qui non nobiscum,
adversus nos est, sir.

Go on.

Back to school.

Before I fetch the headmaster.

You all right?

Thanks.

It's a good job you came by.

I'll walk you back.

I'm still awaiting results
on the boy's blood,

but examination of residue

found in the nasal cavity
and sinuses

suggests he had
snorted heroin.

Snorted heroin?

Almost 100% purity.

Very likely stopped his heart.

Where the hell
did he come by that?

There's something wrong
with Ivory's story

that he drove Rowntree
to the station.

Why would he take him

if they'd had
a physical altercation?

You're saying
he didn't take the boy?

Then somebody else
must've seen him.

No, the reports
are all second-hand.

All we've got to go on
is what Ivory told people.

Well, why would he say
he'd taken him if he hadn't?

Information Room from Fancy.

But the boy can't have known
what he was doing.

Snorting that amount
of pure heroin

is tantamount to suicide.

Sir?

Hmm?

Everything all right?

Ah, Thursday.

Anything from the post mortem?

It's drugs, sir,
with the boy.

Heroin.

Heroin?

Good Lord.

Anything further on Ivory?

You've no idea
as to who might have left

that shirt in your desk?
No, sir.

But there's something about
the number of stab wounds

rings a bell somewhere.

23, to be precise,
according to Dr. DeBryn.

Is the number important?

A frenzied attack, surely.

Yeah, all right, matey.

Stand to--
we're on our way.

George says Ames
has just pulled up

outside Nero's snooker hall,

mob-handed,
and carrying.

Could be another attempt
on Nero.

Very well.

Draw arms.

My authorization.

Armed police!

We're coming in!

♪ One more night
for us to bear ♪

♪ Holding others in our hearts ♪

♪ Being lonely no more to care ♪

Shut that racket off.

♪ Shadows follow
and dusk is passing ♪

♪ Grasping memories
we've held dear ♪

Some kind of showdown.

Nero's boys and Ames' mob.

Nero.

Drop the gun, Eddie.

It's empty, anyway.

Easy, Eddie.

Save your breath--
don't talk.

It wasn't me.

What do you mean?

What wasn't you?

Oh, no.

Ambulance here!

George?

George, can you hear me?

What's he doing here?

George!

I told him to stand to.

Come on!

George, Come on!

Leave him, Morse.

Morse!

There's nothing you can do.

He's gone.

Morse?

Is it true?

Who?

A statement will be made.

Off the record.

I can't.

Just get his age right.

He was 23.

Bloody mess this is.

All right, Sergeant.

Seems to have got caught
in the crossfire, sir.

What was he doing here?

Tailing Cromwell Ames.

Some sort of pow-wow gone wrong,
would you imagine?

Takeover bid, sir.

I think that's what Ames
came here for.

Gentlemen.

I'll start with George,
if I may.

We don't want him
lying in such company

a moment longer
than he has to.

Have his people been notified?

Devon, sir.

Local boys are dealing.

What's going on?

All the driver'd say was, I had
to come back to the station.

Morse?

No...

Not much of a haul

to lose one's life over.

Maybe Ames
was expecting more.

Sir.

"Mr. J.I."

Could that be John Ivory?

"R.O.S."-- Rose Cottage.

"C.O."--
Coldwater School.

Ivory was involved
with Nero?

Thursday?

The two local C.I.D.
that died in the car crash.

Was that Nero?

Maybe they were getting
too close to any drugs business

between him and Ivory?

So hang on.

Division sent us undercover

with only half the story

and knowing that somehow
Nero was involved.

So they put us all at risk.

I didn't know!

Well, we should bloody know.

If Division had put
their cards on the table,

I might have
played things differently

and George Fancy
could still be alive.

Well, there's nothing
we can do now.

Everybody involved in the
wretched business is dead.

Go home,
get some rest.

That's an order.

Hell of a thing.

It took guts to go in
after Cromwell Ames.

What was he hoping for?

Arrest them all?

Whatever he was hoping for,
it doesn't much matter now.

You'll give him respect.

He's due that.

He was due another 50 years.

A wife.

Kids, maybe.

Do you still love
this place?

I should get back
to the school.

It'll keep, won't it?

Today, at least.

No, it won't.

How are you?

I thought you didn't
like guns.

Mr. Blackwell's orders, sir.

If I won't fire them,
I've got to clean them.

Stanlow, is there anything
you want to tell me

about Rowntree
and Mr. Ivory?

Like what, sir?

Anything.

Why did Rowntree hit him?

I don't know, sir.

Unless there's anything else,
sir,

I've got to get on.

- Clunchfist.
- Adsum.

Dakin.
Adsum.

Gaudibund.
Adsum.

Morris Minor.
Adsum.

Nero.
Oh, he's left, sir.

The police killed
his father, sir.

Queach.
Adsum.

Rackway.
Adsum.

Summerhead.
Adsum.

- And Zec.
- Adsum.

Very good-- thank you.

Right.

Is everything
all right, sir?

Is this some kind of a joke?

Joke, sir?

First the shirt,
and now this in my desk.

Mr. Ivory's desk, sir.

It's no joke, sir.

It's serious, sir.

It's deadly serious,
sir.

Oh, what some kind of a threat,
is it?

I'm to believe that one of you
have killed Mr. Ivory.

I'm supposed to be afraid,
is that it?

Well, I'm not.

Are you sure
about that, sir?

Quite sure!
Where did you find it?

Oh, we couldn't
tell you, sir.

We didn't put it there, sir.

Are you quite well, sir?

Perhaps you should get
some air, sir.

All all right?

Tough morning
at the chalk face?

Oh, you know.

Oh, my wife said
she saw you in the woods

with some of the boys.

Ah, yes.

She was under the impression
some of them were high.

Is there much of that here?

Dope?

Well, Ivory used to go
on holiday

to Marrakech every summer.

I think he used to bring
a bit back with him.

What?
He sold it to the boys?

He's got to underwrite
his losses

on the gee-gees somehow.

I thought you were
up at the school.

Ivory's wallet,
left in my desk.

Who by?

We'll have to
have it fingerprinted,

but one of the boys
would be my guess.

You don't think they killed him.
I don't know,

but I think it's what
they want me to believe.

But there's no evidence
for that, though, is there?

No, but there were
23 stab wounds.

According to Suetonius,
the Roman historian,

Julius Caesar was stabbed
23 times by the conspirators.

And the boys are studying that
as a school play.

Coincidence, surely?
Maybe.

In any event,
there's a business card

for Magdalen Cabs in here.

He was in it with Nero,
then, no doubt.

And according
to one of the teachers,

Ivory had been selling
small quantities of hashish

to the boys.

How'd he come by it?
He traveled every summer.

The Roman coast
of North Africa.

Marrakech, Tangier,
and then on into Istanbul.

That's where he's made

a connection to the heroin,
presumably.

Packages bound for a respectable
schoolmaster in England?

Perfect cover.

Thursday,
if I might have a moment.

Sir.

Morse.

Well?
What is it?

What couldn't you say
over the telephone?

I've been going over
ballistics.

I took three bullets
out of George Fancy.

Not one of them matched
any of the weapons

recovered
at the crime scene.

Sir.

Morse,
good heavens.

I wondered if we could...
if you had a moment?

Yes, yes, of course.

By all means, come in.

Mrs. Bright is out,
I'm afraid.

Bridge circle.

I think-- please.

May I offer you a drink?

I generally have
a lime juice and gin about now.

Yes, thank you, sir.

Right, well, I'll just go
and wash my hands.

Dulcie.

Our daughter.

Sweet little thing.

The tropics.

So what's all this about?

Well, ballistics prove

that Fancy was shot
by someone who got away

from the snooker hall, sir.

His killer's
still at large.

Presumably that will
all be passed

to the investigating officer.

Well, he was our colleague, sir.

And we will mourn him.

Cowley is closing,
it's out of our hands.

Nothing to be done.

So there we are.

Your very good health.

Fresh lime, you see?

That's, that's the trick of it.

Dad?

Mum said about the station--
that you were off mostly.

Thought you might go
an early tea.

You come all this way
on the off chance?

A good walk never killed anyone.

Well, there's nothing in.

I've not been bothering.

You know you can be
expelled for that.

My father sits
on the board of governors.

Well, he won't sit there
very long if it comes out

you've been using drugs
on school property,

I promise you.

He doesn't give a shit

about me or anything I do.

Maybe not.

But I'm sure he cares
about his own reputation.

I've given the wallet
to the police.

They already have the shirt.

I'm sure they'll want
to interview you.

If you were involved
in Ivory's murder, that's life.

You won't go to prison first,
of course.

You're too young for that,
but borstal--

believe me,
it's nothing like Coldwater.

No matron.

No privs.

Just bigger boys
who don't play nice.

Who'll be the squit, then,
do you think?

We didn't do it.

But you did have the shirt
and the wallet.

Yeah.

Well, the police
will be taking prints

off the latter as we speak.

It wasn't like that.

We, we just found them.

Where?

Where did you find them?

By the kissing gate.

Well.

How about that?

She'll come back.

She's just...

Well.

You're a good girl, Joanie.

I don't know about that.

I do.

Your mum said...

Well, not in so many words,
but...

Whatever went on with you
last year,

it's none of my business.

I shouldn't have
interfered.

But it's what fathers do.

It's what you do.

I can't help that.

You're my little girl.

But it's your life.

I've just missed you
being in mine

this last twelvemonth.

Oh, Dad.

Who's this now?

Morse.

Everything all right?

Well?

One last decent collar,
you said.

- Have you seen Stanlow?
- No.

He should be here by now.

He has a solo
in the second hymn.

I saw him in the dorm, sir.

What are we looking for?

I don't know exactly,

but somehow Stanlow's
the key to all of it.

Sir.

I've seen that equation before
on his rough book.

Isn't that
the Rifleman's Rule?

The calculation
which enables accurate firing

uphill or downhill?

And that's Coldwater
isn't it?

Chapel?

Playing field?

President Kennedy.

Lincoln, Dr. King.

Bobby Kennedy.

Ivory told the boys to study
the lives of great men.

But what if Stanlow learned
a different lesson altogether?

50 years ago,

at the 11th hour

of the 11th day
of the 11th month,

the guns of the Great War

fell silent.

It seems impossible now,

at a distance
of half a century,

to believe a conflagration

that claimed
18 million lives

should have started
with a single shot.

The base of the fire arc

looks to be the clock tower.

I'll warn them
at the chapel.

Keep them inside.

Morse!

I...

In case you need it.

Stanlow!

Don't.

Look, I know you're angry.

You wanna hurt someone.

Get back at them for what
they've done to you,

but this isn't the answer.

It will only
make things worse.

If you want to take it out
on someone, shoot me!

Come on, son, put the gun down.

No one's going
to hurt you anymore.

I promise you.

No, don't!

This is finished.

It's over.

Is my mother here yet?

Not yet.

I need to ask you
about Mr. Ivory.

The nickname he gave you--
Dak.

It wasn't for Daktari,
was it?

We've just come
from seeing Stanlow.

How is he?

Giving up his secrets.

Seems Ivory
had a nickname for him.

Called him Dak.

Turns out that's a Hindi word
meaning post or mail.

In the days of the Raj,

the "dak runner"
brought letters

from the plains
to the hill stations.

Kipling celebrated it in a poem
called "The Overland Mail,"

and Ivory was big on Kipling.

Is that right?
Mmm.

Ivory called Stanlow Dak

because the boy
ran errands for him.

Like Rowntree before him,

he picked up his whisky
and cigarettes

from the village shop.

But he also delivered letters

between Ivory and
the headmaster's daughter.

Ivory was cheating on his wife
with Ravenna.

But you knew all this

as your admissions book
confirms,

the day Ivory disappeared,

Stanlow was taken
with a sudden fever.

He was laid up here,

and couldn't deliver
the message back

from Ravenna to Ivory,

so he sent you instead.

Who was it you followed
to their usual meeting place

at the kissing gate?

My guess would be Ravenna.

Too risky to tail Ivory
from the pub.

So you waited
till they were done.

Ravenna came back
to the school.

Ivory went back
through the only route he could

to Rose Cottage.

And that was your chance.

He was a monster.

I mean, Blackwell's an animal.

A brute.

But Ivory was the devil himself.

Filling the boys' heads
with evil.

Hatred. Cruelty.

They're just children.

Drugs, for God's sake!

They thought
they were so grown up,

but they didn't have a clue.

What put you on to it?

I was a nurse, don't forget.

I know what an overdose
looks like.

Rowntree?

He came
to the infirmary.

He was white as a sheet.

Sweating.

Heart going ten to the dozen,

and he thought he was going
to die.

So Ivory was using Rowntree
as the main supply channel

for drugs to the boys.

Until he became a liability.

Got too big for his boots,
maybe.

Whatever the case,
Ivory got him expelled.

And then he started in
on Stanlow,

and I couldn't let that
happen again.

I... I had to protect them.

I had to protect them all.

Where is Ivory, Mrs. Seymour?

Where he belongs.

Doctor.

Septic tank.

What a treat.

Better start
going through the motions.

Do you think Ivory
did kill Rowntree?

Maybe the boy
got it into his head

to try a bit
of private enterprise.

Could be that's what
they fought over.

Might just as well
have been accidental.

If the kid didn't know
what he'd been taking,

maybe he mistook
one thing for another.

Who knows?

Perhaps Ivory finds him
at the cemetery,

already overdosed on heroin
meant for Eddie Nero.

He hides the body,
then comes up with a story

of having dropped him
at the station.

A policeman?

Well, Blackwell was right,
then.

You were never a teacher--
I should have known.

How's that?

You didn't look
beaten enough.

Happiest days of your life?

Not much happiness here.

I had hoped to see you
as the first female officer

in Cowley C.I.D.

Our loss will be
the yard's gain.

You'll do
great things there, I'm sure.

Great things.

Thank you, sir.

We shall all miss you.

I don't suppose there's anything
one can say.

I'm so frightfully sorry.

Good luck, Constable.

Thank you for always
looking out for me.

It has been...
a privilege.

I didn't know if you'd be in.

I just came to say goodbye.

Well, I'll see you
at the funeral.

The boy I liked is dead.

I'm not gonna sit
and look at a box.

Life is for the living, Morse.

Don't waste time.

It's all we've got.

I'm no good at goodbyes.

Well, then, let's not say it.

Say not the struggle
naught availeth,

The labor and the wounds
are vain.

The enemy faints not,
nor faileth,

And as things have been,
they remain.

If hopes were dupes,
fears may be liars;

It may be,
in yon smoke concealed,

Your comrades chase
even now the fliers,

And but for you,
possess the field.

For while the tired waves,
vainly breaking

Seem here no painful inch
to gain,

Far back through creeks
and inlets making

Comes silent,
flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows
only,

When daylight comes,
comes in the light.

In front the sun climbs slow,
how slowly,

But westward, look,
the land is bright.

Well, at least we gave him
a good send-off.

We can say that.

Yes.

We can say that.

Nicely done, Morse.

Your poem.

Gentlemen.

Miss Frazil.

Would that you'd never
had to write such a thing,

but it was
a very fine obituary.

He seemed
a decent young man.

No platitude knowingly
unexpressed.

It's what we say, Morse,
when we don't know what to say.

But we do know what to say,
we just can't stomach saying it.

What we want to say is,
"Thank Christ it wasn't me."

That's the last of it,
is it?

Yes, sir.

Well.

When I arrived here
three years ago,

I had such high hopes.

What an ignominious end
I have led you all to.

I shall resign, of course.
Sir.

No, I failed him.

I failed my men.

The station gone.

My brightest and best
cast to the four winds,

and all is...

Brought to ruin.

Bollocks to that.

I won't hear it.

We might be down,
but we're not out.

I'll be damned
if this is how it ends.

We'll have justice for him, sir.

Find who shot that bullet.

Whatever it takes.

Jim's right, sir.

They can call us Thames Valley
till the cows come home,

but wherever we wash up,
we're City men-- each one of us.

To our boots.

To the last.
So few.

Well, enough to give him
justice.

We'll find the bastard, sir.

Your word on it?

My oath.

And mine.

For George.

That's that.

Well, good luck on Monday.

Any news on your posting?

No, no, not yet.

So what happened to the
Winchester over the fireplace?

Turning in
your tin star?

How did Mrs. Thursday
take it?

She married a copper.

Things happen.

Didn't seem the time.

With Fancy.

I should've given him more time.

You gave him what you could,
he knew that.

I could've been kinder.

Who couldn't?

Right.

I thought handshakes
were for goodbye.

Hello.

I just come round.

I can see.

I just thought...

Maybe if that offer
of a coffee's still going?