All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S14E06 (EN)

*MURDOCH MYSTERIES*
Season 14 Episode 06

Episode title: "The Ministry of Virtue"
Aired on: February 08, 2021

In fact, I'd go
as far as to pronounce

Miss Melita Bentz'
invention revolutionary.

Revolutionary?
A paper filter?

Absolutely. My morning
cup is vastly improved

by the exclusion
of spent coffee grinds.

Perhaps I shall install
a drip coffee maker in the shop?

For the customers.

Promotional gambit?
Ahh...

"A coffee break with
your sirloin steak."

"Slake your thirst
and buy liverwurst."

This evening?

Of course.

I've paid in full!

I've been waiting here
for half an hour!

If you do not
hand over

- what is mine...
- Can I help you?

Oh!

Detective
lewellyn watts.

Uh, I'm waiting
for a delivery.

Here? What type of delivery?

Ah...

Axel Crawford?

I'm Axel Crawford.

Constance weatherly.
I serve virtue's ministry.

Is there a problem?

Only problem
is you're late.

My apologies.

The kitchen took woefully
long to warm my gruel.

You have business
with this gentleman?

Mr. Crawford is a client
of the ministry's.

Well, then,
I'll leave you to it.

Are you ready to collect
your bride, Mr. Crawford?

Miss weatherly,
maddie's locked herself

in the lavatory.

Our virtue girls often
need to be gently pried

from their surroundings
at this stage.

Ah, detective,
could you...

Those are
maddy's slippers.

She's got to be in there,
but she won't...

Madeline tomkins!
Come out here immediately!

What is this place?

This is
the ministry's dormitory.

A way station
for virtue girls

on the road
to redemption.

This is detective watts
of the Toronto constabulary.

Please open the door!

Ahem!

Miss tomkins?

Madeline?

Her name was tomkins?

Madeline tomkins.
That is correct.

And what's your relationship
to the deceased?

She was one
of my wards.

Ah, Mr. Crawford paid
her fare from england

in exchange for
her hand in marriage.

She gave her
hand in marriage

in exchange
for a boat trip?

Oh, it's far more
complicated than that.

Our virtue girls
have limited prospects.

They ought to be grateful
for any proposals

they receive.

'Virtue girls'?

Beneficiaries of
the virtue's ministry.

Female convicts who have
been given a choice

between a filthy cell
in holloway prison,

or a virtuous marriage
to a Canadian bachelor.

I've not heard of
this ministry.

Oh. Perhaps
you don't need a wife.

Do you have you any
idea why Miss Tomkins

may have committed suicide?

Well, Madeline's life was
a virtual cabaret of depravity.

It's possible she could
no longer endure the shame.

The shame?

She was a harlot.

I find that an uncharitable
view, Miss Weatherly.

She was just a struggling soul
like the rest of us.

My apologies
for speaking harshly.

My nerves are
terribly frayed.

Mr. Crawford,
I will speak with you

once I'm finished
with Miss Weatherly.

Madeline tomkins was
arrested for prostitution?

Tried and convicted
at the old Bailey.

She was given a choice:
Serve prison time

or serve as a dutiful
wife to Mr. Crawford.

- She chose the latter.
- Hm.

Seems she's had
second thoughts.

Those women are also
"virtue girls"?

Correct.

Kate barker,
flannery oats, Sadie lange.

I am chaperoning
them to new homes,

new husbands
and new hopes.

Is that the case, ladies?

Are your prospects
as sunny

as Miss Weatherly
is proposing?

My condolences for
the loss of your friend.

This must be a terribly
upsetting time.

So's having a constable

Spew Hollow sympathies
in your face.

I assure you
my concern is genuine.

Never met a cop who gave
a toss about a whore.

Detective
William Murdoch.

Do any of you know
why Miss Tomkins

may have taken her own life?

Well, it's possible
she didn't fancy

spending the rest of her
life in some muddy shack,

bedding a hog farmer.

If that was my lot,
I'd off myself, too.

But I'm marrying
a very prosperous man.

Very prosperous
old man.

Old just means
he'll die sooner

and you'll be rich
and rid of him.

That's just me joking,
detective.

So, you are all willingly
uprooting your lives

to marry
perfect strangers?

It's better than rotting
in holloway prison.

What was your crime?

Broke a few windows.

That's it?

At 10 downing street,
she did.

The prime minister's
residence.

I was protesting
with the suffragettes.

Brick through a window tends
to get people's attention.

Specially when it cracks
a lawyer's skull open.

Well, that part
was an accident.

And your crime?

They claim
I'm a public menace.

Happy go lucky.
That's me.

Plus, I been banned
from every pub in London.

What's the point
of staying in a city

where I can't
get a drink?

Detective?

Yes?

What will become
of poor Madeline now?

Our coroner, miss hart,
will perform a post-mortem.

What could possibly be
gained from assaulting

her flesh even further?

It's a procedure that legal
protocol demands, I'm afraid.

In the meantime, I'll need
to contact her next of kin.

Oh!

Miss tomkins has no kin
who would want word of her,

living or dead.

Note her eyes.

There's a
dark band of discolouration.

What is that?

It's known as
"tache noir de la sclerotique".

"Black spot
of the sclera".

Yes.

It occurs when mucous
congeals upon the sclera

of one who's died
with their eyes open.

The Mark can take
at least two hours to form.

So, she's been
dead at least two hours?

Longer, I'd say.

Her body temperature suggests
she expired late last night.

If you can be any more
specific, miss hart,

it would be greatly
appreciated.

Good day.

I'm not sure what to think
about this "virtue's ministry".

You don't approve.

Of shipping desperate
women across the ocean

to marry strangers
who've paid for them?

Of course not!

Men are paying their
passage here, Julia.

These women are criminals.

And yet I've never heard
of male criminals

being forced
into marriage.

They aren't being forced.

They're given
the freedom to choose.

William, when the choice
is marriage or prison,

which of those sounds
like freedom to you?

Forgive the intrusion,
detective.

- Miss hart.
- It's Madeline tomkins.

Upon further
examination,

I found that her
hyoid bone is broken.

But that would
indicate...

- Strangulation.
- Strangulation.

I've determined that her wrists
were slashed postmortem.

Miss tomkins' death
was not a suicide,

but a murder.

Murder?

But the dormitory was
locked for the night.

The girls were all
securely inside.

At least,
I believed they were.

Poor Madeline.

Did any of the girls hold
any sort of animosity

toward Miss Tomkins?

Not at all.

Those girls are thick as...
Well, thieves.

Uh, detective?

I've found something.

Pardon me a moment,
Miss Weatherly.

I've searched through
Miss Tomkins' personal effects.

This was with the dress
she wore last night.

C.m.e.
Not the victim's initials.

So, I noticed.

And, while pondering this fact,
I gazed out this window.

Like so.

Which led to a discovery
even more compelling.

Watts?

With me, detective.

There!

You spotted these footprints

from Miss Tomkins window?

- I did.
- Keen eyesight.

Sharp as an eagle.

The left print has
a distinctive Mark.

Perhaps a hole
in the heel of the shoe?

Prints lead right up
to Madeline tomkins' window.

Do you think a peeping
Tom was inspired to expand

his criminal repertoire?

- Arthur!
- Hello, darling.

This is the most punishing
mattress I've ever lain upon.

It's a gurney.
Not a bed.

I say it is what
we make of it.

A dead woman lies
beneath that blanket.

Have some respect for my
place of employment or leave.

My flesh erupts in goosebumps
when you scold me.

But respect for employment
is not one of my strong points,

so I will see myself
out, as you wish.

Mm-hm.

But not before extending
a most optimistic invitation

to my home this evening,

where the mattresses
are plush and thick

and upholstered
in the finest silk.

I have no idea
of its origins.

Unless...

Oh, dear.

Madeline could have
pickpocketed it

on the ship
coming from London.

The maker's Mark indicates
a Toronto jeweler.

Well, someone
on the train?

Maddie were
no pickpocket.

And you're
certain of this?

She never had
the knack for it.

Oh! Very good.

Just showing the detective
how it's done.

We found a man's footprints
outside of Madeline's window.

Any idea who
put them there?

Oh, hell!
We might as well tell him.

It's not like
we broke any laws.

What is this
about, Sadie?

The girls and I snuck out to
the tipsy ferret before curfew.

Sorry, miss, but with
all us getting married,

it felt like our last
night of freedom.

My virtue girls engaged
in public debauchery.

T'was nothing compared
to maddie's private debauchery.

What are you
referring to?

She snuck a fellow from
the pub into her room.

It's probable the locket was
payment for services rendered.

Can you
describe this man?

- He were handsome.
- He were balding.

He was, uh, taller than me
and shorter than her.

He was skinny,
had a drooping mustache

and, uh, little beady eyes.

A very handsome man.

You're looking
for Edwin ebersol.

Mr. Ebersol pawns his
wife's jewelry to buy drink?

And as much as
I have sympathy

for the long-suffering
Cathleen Marie,

a tab's a tab.

Well, any idea where
I could find this Mr. Ebersol?

He ricochets between
the pawnshop and the pub.

Edwin!

This detective would
like to talk to you.

What can I tell you?

The wench was utterly
captivated by me.

Madeline tomkins
was captivated...

By you?

She was all over me!

But I rigorously
rebuffed her advances.

I'm a married man,
after all.

Ah, yes.

And your wife's
name is?

She needn't be
involved in this.

Cathleen Marie ebersol,
by chance?

Her locket was found amongst
the deceased's possessions.

That wench must have
lifted it from my pocket!

Is that why
you killed her?

I did no such thing!

Convince me otherwise,
Mr. Ebersol.

How am I supposed
to do that?

I... I-I have made many,
many mistakes in my life.

But murder
is not one of them.

How's that?

Violet hart,

I'm normally a man
of endless wit.

I'm rendered mute.

Trust me, it's not your
wit I fancy, Arthur.

We're being watched.

Let them stare.

I'm going to be
late for work.

Which do you love more, Violet?
Work or me?

I'm handsomer and I've
got a much bigger...

Good day, Mr. Carmichael!

Bank account.

When did this happen?

Must have been
last night.

Jack, you should go home.

- But, I...
- Go home. I'll deal with this.

Uh, did any of you
see who did this?

Didn't.

But it's a shame
it should happen

to such a fine
upstanding businessman.

Detective lewellyn watts.
Is this by chance your work?

Not work, really.

More of a calling,
I'd say.

You painted the slander
on the window?

Slander? Where?

Well, would you
look at that!

The butcher's a fairy!

I'm just doing my part
to help, detective.

We can't let degenerates
overrun this city.

Mm-hm. What's your name?

Marcus hinkie.

Just a law-abiding... hey!

Marcus hinkie, I'm placing
you under arrest for vandalism.

Come on now.
The man did nothing wrong,

it's a public service.

The ministry is grateful
for your diligence

in investigating
this heinous crime,

but I've got
girls to marry off,

suitors awaiting and a train
to catch this evening.

I'm well aware.

Thank you.

As you can imagine,
we are eager to get on our way.

These women deserve
a chance to start anew.

Do they?
I'm not convinced of that.

A thief, a drunkard
and a violent anarchist

are sent to my country
instead of going to jail

and you want me
to welcome them?

Inspector brackenreid,
I do not ask that you

assist in god's work.

I merely ask you
not hinder it.

Who am I to stand in
the way of the almighty,

Miss Weatherly?

Well, then,
good day, inspector.

Good day.

So, who's the lout
taking space up in my jail?

A Mr. Edwin ebersol, sir.

His wife's locket was found
amongst the victim's possessions

and her companions saw a man

bearing ebersol's description
in her room that night.

He climbed through the window
is the theory, right?

Yes, but the footprints
outside the building

don't match
ebersol's shoes.

A man can own more than one
pair of shoes, Murdoch.

What's the motive?

That is yet...

- You!
- What do you think you're doing?

I will kill you!

I will snap your neck,
you bastard!

Have we met?

Madeline tomkins
was my fiancée.

Madeline tomkins
was a whore.

This way.

Escort Mr. Crawford
to the cells.

No, wait... wait!

Let me see your shoe.

The hole in
the heel of your left shoe

matches footprints found
outside Ms. Tomkins' window.

What of it?

I did peer through her window,
but not with lewd intent.

I'd waited so long
for her arrival.

I just wanted to
get a look at her.

Perhaps
you did get a look at her.

And you saw her in bed
with the man that you attacked.

I do wish that you
would not speak of that.

You threatened to
kill Mr. Ebersol.

I threatened him. Yes.

And any sane man
would understand why.

Madeline tomkins did not
deserve what he dealt her.

She came here to
start a new life...

A life with me.

And he ended it.

He should be dead
and not Madeline.

Do you not want me here?

Sorry, I just feel like
everyone is watching me.

Well, I've got news
that should ease your mind.

I've arrested the vandal.

You did what?

He even confessed.
Rather proudly, I might add.

- What... what did you...?
- Charge him with?

Well, destruction of
property and...

No, no, no.
I mean, I...

I just wanted
to make this go away.

I didn't want an arrest,
or a trial, or...

Justice to be served?

It won't be justice!

It'll be every bigot
in the city gossiping

about the fairy butcher.

It will kill my business.

- But...
- It will ruin me.

Please...

And how long do you think you'll
last at the constabulary

when the rumours start flying
about the "sodomite cop"?

Jack.

That's what they
call us, you know.

You saw it.

Splashed across my shop
in blood-red letters.

I'm sorry.

I just wanted to
make this go away.

I can fix this.

- I wish you could.
- I can.

- I'll get the charges dropped.
- And then what?

What do you mean?

How will you fix...

...this.

This will always
be against the laws

that you've vowed
to enforce.

Maybe not...

Always.

There's no way in the world
that this will end happily.

So we should at least
end it quickly.

No! Jack.

Ah... you're right.

I-I should not have
arrested that man.

It was rash
and ill-considered

and I will never again...

Lewellyn!
This is too dangerous.

For both of us.

I'm sorry,
but it's over.

So, which one of
the two of them did it?

We can't hold them both.

Thank you.

Fortunately,
we won't have to.

I've ascertained the whereabouts
of both of our suspects

on the morning
of the murder.

Go ahead.

Axel Crawford arrived on the
seven A.M. train from Ottawa.

A carriage then dropped him
at virtue's ministry at 7:25,

where he proceeded
to shuffle about,

mumbling and peering
into windows.

So, Mr. Crawford
has an alibi.

By the time he
arrived in Toronto,

Miss Tomkins
was already dead.

And ebersol?

That's a different story.

Edwin ebersol was released
from the confines

of station house number
five's drunk tank

late this morning,

where he was being
held since his arrest

for public intoxication at...

2:15 am.

Unfortunately, no one can
confirm his whereabouts

in the hours
preceding the arrest.

Which was when Madeline
tomkins was murdered.

Well, so that
settles it, then.

Case closed.
Time of death solves it.

Seems my time
of death estimate was off

by several hours.

Several hours?

Yes.

It seems the cold water
from the bath

affected her body temperature,

which threw off
my initial estimate.

You also initially misread miss
tomkins' death as a suicide.

As did you, detective.

Hum.

We both know
that new evidence

often corrects
initial assumptions.

So, what new evidence
have you uncovered?

Stomach contents
revealed she was dead

about an hour and half
before the body was found.

So, around six-thirty
in the morning.

While Mr. Ebersol
was in our cells

and Axel Crawford
was on the train.

So neither of them could have
killed Madeline tomkins.

Which means one
of the virtue girls

must have done it.

But I don't understand.

You have two suspects
in custody, do you not?

We had two suspects.

New evidence
has cleared them both.

Is everything all right,
Miss Weatherly?

Ah, my heart aches at
the thought of Miss Tomkins

debasing herself
with that vile man.

I won't debate
your assessment

of Mr. Ebersol's character,
but suffice it to say

that his alibi does
absolve him of murder.

And Mr. Crawford?

He, too, has an alibi.

I have faith that you will
eventually solve this case,

detective Murdoch,
but we really must be going.

You have a train to catch.
I understand.

Yes. Right.
Thank you.

And in order to accommodate
your tight schedule,

I have summoned your
wards to the station house

for questioning,
immediately.

But, detective, we...

Your virtue girls will
answer any and all questions

we have regarding the death
of Madeline tomkins.

Violet, dear, you're not really
cross with me, are you?

That kiss outside
the morgue?

Was that for me, or for
those who stood gawking?

I was under the impression
that you enjoyed my affection.

Yes, but I do not
enjoy being exploited

for your campaign
to outrage the world.

Now, Violet, you love
to shock the hypocrites

as much as I do.

And I worship your
brilliance, your beauty

and your ability
to strike fear

in the hearts of the old money
snobs whom I loathe.

I'll be equally honest.

You are a fool who
indulges in my vanity,

sates my desires
and finances my love

for luxury goods.

To us!
I have an idea.

I want to host a party
to properly present you

to my peers.

Meaning the old money
snobs whom you loathe?

Exactly.

I'm envisioning a theme,
something like,

"the dark continent."

- No.
- But...

The answer is no.

No "dark continent".

No theme.

I will, however,
be your guest of honour

at an elegant,
intimate dinner party

where I promise
to strike terror

in the hearts of
those old money snobs

which you loathe.

I adore you.

I will need a new dress.

Charge it
to my account.

- Thank you for coming.
- Of course.

How can I be
of assistance?

We're pressed for time
and I'm hoping your insight

can help me interpret
their responses.

Interpret how?

Perhaps you can sense if one
of them is hiding something?

I'll do my best.

Thank you.

How would you describe
Madeline tomkins?

Lively.
Beautiful.

She was a cooch dancer
at the old 'burly q'.

A cooch dancer?

You know?
Burlesque.

Burlesque.

Maddie was the most glamorous
tart I'd ever known.

She could hold her liquor
almost as well as me.

But you told me
you'd been banned

from every pub
in London.

So, I'd have to be daft to
murder me best drinking buddy.

Exactly.

Maddie was smart,
open-minded.

Independent.

Not the sort of woman
I'd like to murder.

And what sort of woman
would you like to murder?

I spoke imprecisely.

There are no women
I'd like to murder.

What exactly were
you doing that morning

up until the moment that
Madeline's body was discovered?

Well, I don't normally lift
me head from the pillow

until I'm forced.

I'd barely gotten dressed before
I heard all the squawkin'.

I were working
on me manifesto.

Chapter 82, "the grandiose
self-regard of men".

I have it memorized.
Would you like me to recite it?

- Yes!
- No.

No.

What were you doing
exactly that morning

right up until the moment
that Madeline's body

was discovered?

Well, uh, let's see...

I had to go to the loo,
but it was locked.

So I knocked and I knocked
and I got no answer,

so I paced up and down
the 'allway

struggling
to hold me water.

Pardon me, sir.
Just being honest.

So, what's
the verdict?

Are the virtue girls
petty offenders,

or bloodthirsty killers?

Sir, we've yet to determine
motive for this murder.

I agree.

I saw no malice toward
Madeline from any of them.

I will remind you
they are criminals.

They know how to lie.

What I witnessed looked
like sincere grief

for their lost friend.

Or remorse for
having killed her?

All I know is that you have
three women and six hours

to coax the truth out
before the train arrives.

If you think they're lying,
why don't you drag out

the old honesty box?

The autonomic
response indicator.

The truthizer.

Sir, it's not infallible.

A sophisticated liar
could fool the machine.

It wouldn't hurt
to try, would it?

I say dust the cobwebs
off that gadget

and strap the girls
in for questioning.

But, sir...

Hark!
Is that a train I hear?

The truthizer may be
able to pick up

something that we missed.

Detective watts.
How nice to see you.

Yes, of course.

Ah, watts! Quick work
on nabbing that vandal.

At least one of my detectives
is earning his pay.

Ah, yes.
Uh, about that.

I know this is unusual,
but I must implore you

to drop the charges.

Drop the charges?
I don't get you, watts.

I thought Jack Walker
was your friend?

He is.

And my friend wishes
to avoid a public trial.

Oh, I see.

Are you sure
about this?

- Yes.
- Very well, then.

I'll release the man.

Perhaps it's for the best.

Are you ready to begin?

Ask your questions.

Did you kill
Madeline tomkins?

Hand to god, sir...

Hand to god, sir.
I did not.

I could never harm
a hair on maddie's head.

We've discussed this.
The answer's still no.

Who killed
Madeline tomkins?

I haven't the foggiest
notion, detective.

I don't know.
I'd tell you if I did.

None of us knows
who killed maddie.

The truthizer has exonerated
every one of them.

But a few hours
earlier you claimed

that that box of bolts
was faulty at best.

Well, it's faulty at worst.

But I have no
reason to believe

the results are
inaccurate.

There is one woman you
haven't spoken to.

Miss weatherly?

Yes.
Has she been ruled out?

Detective watts
witnessed her arrival

at the ministry
that morning.

She had come from
the empire hotel.

Before you say anything,

I got the charges against
Marcus hinkie dropped,

as you requested.

Thank you. Unfortunately,
now is not a good time.

Please, Jack,
just talk to me.

Jack, who's that?
Invite your friend in.

The more the merrier!

Ah, what's
the occasion?

Engagement party!

I'm going to make
an honest man of Jack.

An honest man, huh?

Lewellyn, I'm sorry
but this is, uh...

Don't dawdle in the doorway.
Come in and have a drink!

Oh, yes, join us.

Thank you, miss,
but I'm here on police business.

I would never
intrude on your joy.

Jack, what was that about?

Cheers.

Elegant accommodations for
a humble "matron of virtue".

While her wards stay
in the dreary confines

of that ministry.

Why would a charity spend
money on such luxury?

Virtue's ministry grows
more and more suspicious

by the hour.

Hm. Pardon me, sir.
A word.

Yes, sir?

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto constabulary.

We're looking for
one of your guests,

a constance weatherly.

She's employed
by a charity.

Virtue's ministry?

Ah, yes,
Miss Weatherly.

Our lady of insufferable
sanctimony.

I gather you're
not fond of her?

The woman's satchel
is as heavy as a coffin.

And her notions of charity
apparently do not extend

to those who carry
her breakfasts

up four flights
of stairs

to that dreadful
penthouse every morning.

She doesn't tip you?

Oh, she tipped me.

"Here's a tip," she says.

"'Ye shall have
tribulation:

But be of good cheer; I
have overcome the world.'"

that's John 16:33.

She tips with
a Bible passage?

A veritable font of
scriptural witticisms,

our Miss Weatherly.

One must admire
the audacity.

Do you know where
we could find her?

Sorry to disappoint,
but Miss Weatherly

hasn't been around
since yesterday.

Yesterday?

She ate her breakfast
before dawn.

Left at 5:30 am
on the dot.

Excuse me.

If she left at 5:30 A.M.,
then she has no alibi.

And if she has
no alibi...

Miss weatherly could
be our killer.

Did you return
to your chambers

at the empire hotel
after the murder?

No.

Why not?

I prefer to be near the girls
during this traumatic time,

to lend counsel
and comfort.

The Porter saw you leave
the hotel that morning

at 5:30 A.M.

Correct?

No. He certainly did not.

What time did you
leave the hotel

on the morning
of Miss Tomkins' murder?

I came to the ministry
straight away

after breakfast.

Care to amend your answer,
Miss Weatherly?

Why would I do that?

Because you're lying.

Is it your intention to arrest
me for lying about breakfast?

Your detective watts saw me
arrive at the ministry at 8:00.

This is a complete
waste of time.

I was in charge of
Madeline's welfare.

Why would I kill her?

I don't know.

Why did you kill
Miss Tomkins?

I didn't!

See?

Your own device
proclaims my innocence.

You have your answers.

How many times
must I repeat them

before you release me?

I can't hold these
women any longer

unless you show me something
that changes my mind.

According to the truthizer,
Miss Weatherly

did not kill
Madeline tomkins.

And, yet, inexplicably
she's lying about

what time she
had breakfast.

I know I'm missing
something.

I'm sorry, Murdoch.
I'll have to release them.

I assure you Mr. Carmichael's
account will cover it.

Telephone him
if you doubt me.

Excuse me!

All that fuss about
dropping the charges.

You got what you wanted
and you're still skulking around

with your face...

No, I didn't get what I wanted.

I... I'm sorry.

I received news
of an engagement.

And who
are the happy couple?

A miss Clara Cartwright
and a Mr. Jack Walker.

Oh.

Do you know what
exasperates me most

about this engagement?

I'm not inclined
to speculate.

That poor woman will be
stuck in a sham marriage

to a man who is too frightened
to live honestly.

Who are we to judge?

People get married
for all sorts of reasons.

I have to warn
miss Cartwright.

About what, watts?

Maybe this is what
Jack Walker needs to do.

And maybe you should
follow his example

and find yourself
a nice young lady.

Well, I for one,
am not prepared to live a lie.

Nor should he.

Don't do anything
stupid, watts.

It's unfortunate
that you wasted such time

and effort
harassing my wards.

And, yet, instead
of seeking the killer

you're still here,
lurking beside me.

I suppose I'll receive no
apology for this indignity

and inconvenience
you have served upon me?

In the world,
ye shall face tribulation:

But be of good cheer,
for I have overcome the world.

Overcome the world,
have you?

Bully for you, detective.

Not all of us are blessed
with your arrogance.

Goodbye, detective.

Stop.

You can't be serious.

Is there a problem?

This woman is not
constance weatherly.

She isn't?

That's why she
hid her face from Mr. Ebersol

in the station house.

She ate her breakfast
before dawn.

Left at 5:30 am
on the dot.

That's why she
never returned to the hotel.

None of us knows
who killed maddie.

I'd tell you
if I did.

Hand to god, sir... I did not.

And that's why the
virtue girls were able

to truthfully deny
killing Madeline tomkins.

Because Madeline tomkins
isn't dead.

Constance weatherly is.

And the virtue girls
killed her.

Nonsense!

Who are you?

Hm?

Are you constance weatherly,
a devout Christian missionary?

Or are you Madeline tomkins,

a prostitute from
the streets of London?

Perhaps another round with
the truthizer is in order, hm?

I am indeed
a working girl

from the streets of London.

But I'm not just that.

I'm an artist.

I'm an actress.

Ah, yes.

You inhabited the role
of the woman you murdered

quite convincingly.

Thank you.

You're welcome...

Madeline.

Tell me what happened
the morning

that constance weatherly
was murdered.

Miss weatherly shows up,
as usual,

cracking the whip
at the crack of dawn.

"Get up, you
lazy raggabrash.

Your husband
is on his way.

Wash your sinful flesh
and make yourself presentable."

And then?

Oh, I says to her,
'I'm not marrying anyone.

You can't force me.'

and my girls gather
round and they say,

"we ain't
marrying, either!"

Constance tries to
yank me out of my room.

So Kate threw a stocking
'round her neck.

Sadie kicked her
knees out from under.

And flannery? Oh!

The woman is a mastermind
I kid you not.

Flannery says,
once constance stops moving,

she says, "maddie, switch
places with constance.

Make it look like
you offed yourself."

It's quite the show
we put on, yeah?

We figure if we could
just get out of Toronto

we'd be free to start new
lives in Canada...

Wouldn't have to marry.

Well, you are
correct about that.

None of you
will have to marry.

But you are all under
arrest for the murder

of constance weatherly.

You are by far the
most beautiful woman

in this room.

And you are by far
the luckiest man.

And these are by far
the most miserable

party guests
I've ever encountered.

They despise us,
don't they?

They do.

Isn't it delicious?

I think we can safely say
the party's a smash.

I can smell so many
tiny little minds

short-circuiting
all around us.

I think you overestimate
your talent for scandal,

my dear Arthur.

Do you think you
can do better?

I do.

Can I have
everyone's attention!

Arthur and I are very
grateful you can join us

for this momentous
occasion.

For this is no random
soiree you're attending.

It's our engagement party!

It is with great
pleasure I introduce

my bride-to-be,
Miss Violet Hart.