All language subtitles for ripper.street.s04e01.1080p.bluray.x264-turmoil

Your Majesty, the world has disembarked.

Here, in London, Imperial Service Troops
from each and every dominion

make camp in Hyde Park.

Your capital opens its arms
to your empire.

And, here, that empire will pay tribute
to your reign, to this Diamond jubilee.

From the palace,
you will lead the procession...

45,000 men at arms...

a cavalry from your... homeland,

Munshi, Bengal Lancers.

It will be a living gazetteer
of your realms, Majesty.

The streets will be lined,
the joy, huh, unconfined.

Following your lead
up Constitution Hill,

St James to Pall Mall, Trafalgar Square,
The Strand, until...

St Paul's, where the Bishop of London...

MAN: Silence, silence!

Assistant Commissioner of Police
Augustus Dove will now give address.

Ladies, gentlemen...

people of Whitechapel,

as the wider city prepares itself
for celebration,

the like of which we have never seen...

Scotland Yard invites you here today
with double incentive...

to introduce you
to your new station house,

a magnificent building,
I'm sure you'll agree.

(MURMURING)

But first, to congratulate Inspector Drake
and his division

on their rigorous pursuit
and capture of the man

who murdered the Rabbi Leon Ratovski.

MAN 1: Hear, hear!
MAN 2: Well done.

WOMAN 1: Perfect.
WOMAN 2: Well done.

Sentence of death has now
been handed down on his killer.

A sentence we at Scotland Yard do,
albeit with sadness... welcome.

Now come.

Mr. Drake is keen to show you
his new home.

Mr. Drake, will you explain?

It is a telephone.

The line here is connected
throughout the stations,

a system of communication which allows
the Inspector and his men

to speak to each other
wherever they work.

Assistance may be requested,
information passed on.

Young boys will go to school, not run
policemen's lunch orders for them.

(LAUGHTER)

Of this, however,
we are particularly proud.

It was well known
that Mr. Drake's predecessor

kept a criminal archive in the rafters
of the old Leman Street Station.

Sergeant Drummond.

Mr. Reid's files were photographed
and their size then shrunk

by a ratio of 160 to 1.

We now add to them daily, each
and every reported villainy read here.

Imagine a stanhope,
but of more applicable function.

What do you call it, Inspector?

It is the microreader.
(MURMURING)

I prefer these places empty,
it must be said.

But it is not their place to be empty.
(LAUGHTER)

We laugh, I know...

but there is a truth
buried in that laughter.

We must not forget that the hoped for
conclusion of police work

is not a prison groaning
with convicts...

but no prisons at all.

MAN 1: Mm...
MAN 2: Yeah...

Inspector Drake, no sooner does
your new master at Scotland Yard

hand you down new premises than he seeks
to make you surplus to requirements.

It is a redundancy I would welcome,
Miss Castello.

Wouldn't we all, Mr. Drake?

It is a utopia.

Inspector Drake, might I bring you back
to less, er, elevated matters?

Go on, Miss Castello.

As regards the murderer
of Rabbi Ratovski,

Mr. Dove tells us the sentence of death
handed down on the Whitechapel Golem

is welcomed at Scotland Yard.

Do you here at H Division
echo that sentiment?

I would prefer to call him by his name.

It was your newspaper
dubbed him otherwise.

Not so, Inspector.

We simply echoed the frightened voices
heard amongst the jury of Whitechapel.

Nonetheless,
the Inspector makes sound argument.

This borough here
has a taste for monsters,

for their birthing and nurture.

Then let us hear of the man
behind that monster.

Will we have his given name from you,
Mr. Drake?

You know it. It is Isaac Bloom.

A mathematician,
part of the same Whitechapel jury,

and well known to H Division,
was he not?

He gave service to your predecessor
more than once, sol understand.

He may have, Miss Castello,
but that does not alter the facts.

Men may change. Bloom is no different.

The Rabbi Leon Ratovski
visited London from Paris.

Isaac Bloom killed him in a Whitechapel
lane-way and will hang for it.

Let those facts be known, if you will,
Miss Castello, then let him be forgot.

(SPEAKS HEBREW)

Sergeant.

Detective Sergeant.
I need to see the old man.

Mr. Drake has guests, as you know.

He must hear this, however.

Frank, save the shoe leather.

I'm sure it must be near run-through
and new boots are costly.

(SCOFFS)

Were it not for the fact
I think you'd enjoy it too much,

I'd take this piece of machinery
and I'd shove it up your...

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello?

There's a murdered man washed up
on the Western Dock, sir.

I'll be there, Sergeant.

Sir, I...

You go, Inspector.

Thank you. Excuse me.

Oh, Mr. Drake...

One moment, please.

This, today, it is much appreciated.

I know such work is not to your taste.

I understand, sir. It is important.

The men feel their work is seen
and such witnessing gives encouragement.

You have me, Inspector.

Stand aside. Police, stand aside.
Sorry.

(CHATTER)

Mr. Drake, my men and I,
we are happy to see you.

The elected steward
for Dock, Wharf, Riverside

and General Laborers' Union - happy?

I shall remember the day, Mr. Teague.

(CHUCKLES)

You are?

Name's Croker, Croker's Wharf,
two ticks upriver.

Where that reefer shall now
be getting its freight unshipped

if you will not say otherwise,
Inspector.

Forgive me, I am brought here
for a dead man

not to arbitrate in a labor dispute.

(WORKER SHOUTS IN BACKGROUND)
Ah, well...

Allow me, Inspector.

(WORKERS CHATTER)

Indian fellow.

Last guy working the ships, most like,
from his coloring.

It was him what has put him there.

That is slander, Roy.
Do you accuse us of murder?

Yes, Mr. Teague, do you?

No, I say only that this wharfinger
has found a floater on the night tide,

sought to gig it downriver
and land it here,

and see these men go work
this come sunrise.

That is 500 frozen carcasses
from New Zealand...

mutton, lamb, pig -
50 kegs of butter alongside.

As good a day's work as these men
have known all month,

booked for lumping right here.

But if you will now close this dock
to mount investigation,

then he, who pays no dues to this union
and lives outside its regulation,

will have his lightermen
out on the water in two jiffies

and take that cargo as his own.

This true, Mr. Croker?

It is not, Mr. Drake.

At least the first part is not.

The second, that those frozen carcasses
be brought ashore for warehousing

and distribution, that is true.

And I shall certainly be bidding
for such work.

You cannibal, Croker! This...

That murdered man is nought
but some Indian goo-goo, Inspector,

for whom you would deprive
London men of their work!

The man's origin is not pertinent,
Mr. Teague.

You're right about one thing, however.

I shall be closing this dock
for investigation.

As for who works and profits,
well, that is not my lookout.

Sergeant.

See this dockside picked and cleared
for evidence.

THATCHER: And for yourself, Inspector?

I'm going to drag our surgeon
from his pit.

All right.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

She-piggy, Captain Jackson.

DRAKE: Jackson!

(SNORING)

Morning, Chief.

How are thee?

One man.

Four crowns.

Best be quick. There's some place
I need to be this afternoon.

(COCKS GUN)

One crown, you work efficiently,
you will be free to leave.

Two crowns, two shillings
and a sixpence,

and I leave when I say I leave.

(UNCOCKS GUN)

(VENDORS HAWK THEIR WARES)

Jackson...

Drake.

Come on.

BOY: Read all about it!

You have the look.
VENDOR: Sir.

What look?

Bulldog swallows wasp.

BOY: Read all about it!
Susan Hart to hang!

This man.
BOY: Read all about it!

Yeah, what of him?

In two days' time, we are told.

Yeah, I can do math, Drake.

And yet you still make no plans
to visit.

Visit whom?

Your wife, she who languishes in Newgate
these three years.

She who'll soon no longer be your wife
on account of the fact she will be...

No, Drake.

No plans.

No surprises.

Do you understand, Inspector?

This week of all weeks.
Secretary Chamberlain...

it is a happy occasion.

You relax, get yourself happy.

I shall get happy, Mr. Constantine,

when you have delivered to us
what we have asked you to deliver.

This Munshi, the Queen's manservant,

his influence might be feared
by her household,

but my spies have no such worries, sir.

Could be he's cleaner
than you gentlemen imagine.

By which you imply you are yet to find
anything demonstrates otherwise?

We watch, sir. We look.
Well, look harder.

He and his moon-faced friends,
there are extreme beliefs amongst them.

And extreme beliefs beget
extreme action, Inspector.

We must put an end
to this Muslim Patriotic League.

(SNIFFS)

It's left to right.

It's quick work.

There is little by which to place him.

But he is of South Asian origin.

Well, that's a keen eye on you, Drake.

I thought at first... lascar.

But his hands, there's no callusing
from the sea work.

His nails are well kept and unbroken.

Ah!

There's, er...

There's some remains of soil
from the tread of his boots.

But that does not look like river mud
to me, not our river leastways.

And you pronounce this
from which analysis?

Well, it's not black enough.

Yes.

I think that analysis might be
improved upon, however.

It's a warm day, let's put him on ice.

Ratovski?

I think Mr. Ratovski may leave us,
may he not, now that...

Bloom's been sentenced?

Still something to credit,
a man like that?

Such savagery.

Why? Because Isaac Bloom
was a man of thought?

Isn't a man's mind
the darkest part of all?

It was a mind much loved by Reid.

"Never knew a man of such clear-eyed,
intellectual courage."

Those were his words.

Yes, they were.

But Edmund Reid was wrong about plenty
in the course of his life here.

(SEABIRDS CRY)

Well, Mr. Reid, how is the water?

Bracing, Mr. Ramuz, even in June.

Bathing is not recommended.

(CHUCKLES) Here, Edmund.

Ah, thank you.

(LAUGHS)
And so your... calculations?

The running ebb current
runs at ten and a half,

the flow, a notch above nine.

These two currents produce
what I understand to be a tidal scour.

It's a process of erosion that moves
the beach materials, the sand

and the stone and so forth,
to the eastern side of the pier.

Away from where the housing is built.

Yes.

Removal of the freshwater oyster beds
compounded the issue... in my opinion.

It may have, but this is to be
a resort town, not a fish farm.

How do you believe it might be stopped?

I'm not sure I know, sir.

It is the sea, after all.

I hope, Edmund,
you'll forgive my father his sharpness.

He has much invested here.
It's understandable.

Should Hampton-on-Sea
become Hampton-in-the-Sea,

we will have lost everything.
(CHUCKLES)

And so, d'you see, Edmund,
how your coming here is a boon to us,

the community we build here...

and to myself also?

My Alfred gone,
I'd come to think my Life

would be solely dedicated
to that place.

Yes, the, er, friendship
our daughters have made...

A great pleasure to us all.

What a day we shall have, come
the jubilee, the four of us together.

(MOANS)

Why is she dressed as the Queen?
And what are they doing, Mathilda?

Shh, Valerie, watch.

WOMAN: Mmm!

He makes a kind of love to her.

WOMAN: Ahh...

WOMAN: Ah!
Mathilda, our train.

Christ, Val, we must run.

What?
The new police station.

That is Samuel Drummond.
His friends call him Drum.

And that is Francis Thatcher.

Which do you consider the more handsome?

Drum.
Yes.

Come. We may cut through
to the new underground station here,

direct from Whitechapel to Victoria.

(TRAIN CHUGS)

(CHATTERING)

(ROSE SNIFFLES)

Rose, please, stop your crying.

Forgive me, Miss Susan.

It's just...

It's only that...

All become so real, to think that...

Mr. Theakson?

Yes, Miss S?

Will you take Connor for a few moments?

Course, Miss S.

Give me that.

(WOMEN CHATTER)

Rose, understand.

I am resigned that the law of this land
allowed me this time to...

birth and nurse my son.

Well, it is a blessing.

But my sentence was always my sentence.

The death that I brought, Rose...

it must be paid down.

And tell me, how fares the Captain?

It is a wonder...

that you can ask after him
with such kindness is sweet.

He is getting about his same old games.

Not one thought in this world for you...

or his son.

Come, Rose.

He and I,
all that we have lived through.

I will not have rancor in my heart...

not now, and above all, not for him.

All who love you must grieve,
Miss Susan... grieve.

They'll not suspect a thing.

Broken hearts are a small price to pay
for freedom.

(DOOR BANGS IN DISTANCE)

The low-to-medium concentrations
of calcium and zinc in the soil

would suggest parkland.

Further, we have some copper -
northern and central parkland.

Hyde Park, Regent's Park,
Hampstead Heath, Primrose Hill...

No, no, no. It's too wide a net.

Do better.

Gladly.

There's little arsenic within, however.

Well, that's a pity.

Oh, that's cute, Benito.

Northern parks would show
an elevated arsenic count,

so you can strike Hampstead and Primrose
from the list, therefore.

Now here.

These are redworm eggs.

Redworms are horse parasites,
shat out in manure.

There's a parade in this city
on Tuesday,

a parade involving a great number of
infantry and an equal number of cavalry.

And in which park does the cavalry
make its encampmentry?

Hyde Park, Bengal Lancers.
Drake, you'll need this.

(HORSE WHINNIES)

Police. Who is it commands here?

(HORSE NEIGHS)

I am Risaldar-Major Al-Qadir.
These are my men.

And do you currently lack for one, sir?

Lack?

A man, have you any missing?

Why do you ask?

There's a dead man of your stock

found on the shore
of a Whitechapel dock this morning.

Hyde Park dirt and horse shit about him.

Oh, and he, er...

he wore this.

Ah... Major Al-Qadir,
our surgeon, Captain Jackson.

Captain... of what?

US Army, sir.

Now, Drake, you and the Major
are all set.

Where is it you go?

That place I needed to be.

I need to be there.

May I show him to you, sir?

He is not one of my soldiers.

No!

You do not move, sir!

His name is...

Mr. Sayid Kalim Abdul Al-Qadir,

graduate of Balliol College, Oxford,

barrister-at-law at
the Bar of England and Wales, and...

he was my son.

Mr. Judge, good morning.

Mr. Cotter.
Pleasure to see you once more.

Now, no-one is on trial, and I'll simply
have the court's decision.

And that decision foregone and easy,
correct?

Correct.

A formality.

Now, this might be an apposite moment,
Mr. judge, for the, um...

final settlement of my firm's fees.

Oh, er... right, yeah. Certainly.

As agreed, Mr. Cotter.

Well, Mr. judge, shall we dance?

(SIGHS)

(GAVEL BANGS)
All rise.

What we saw that man do earlier
to that woman.

Do you think my father
has done that to your mother yet?

How was your day?

Tennyson and trigonometry -
my stock in trade.

This is soot.
How do you have soot on you?

I have no idea.
How could it possibly be soot?

My next question, Mathilda.

How indeed?
Come, Father.

It is only a smear on a collar,
and you are no longer a policeman.

Open it, please.

Thank you.

Right. All this, the details
of his work, see it boxed

and ordered returned
to Sergeant Drummond.

Did your son share the details
of his life with you, sir?

Share?

Where he went, who he knew.
What he thought.

We spoke for only one half of an hour
three days past,

and that the sole conversation in which
he and I have partook

in almost six years.

Since he left India?
Correct.

My Sayid.

That is he?
It is.

Forgive me, but when you and your son
spoke recently,

sir, did he say
when he might be leaving here?

Leaving?
Going home, sir.

This was his home, Inspector.

London, England.
He was an English gentleman.

Oh.

Sir, do you know this other man,
this Mr. Hafeez?

With regret, I do.

He made friend of my son in Pune,
Deccan College.

His name is Imran Hafeez.

But they did not
travel to Oxford together?

They did not.

And this low opinion you suffer
of Mr. Hafeez?

He is a bad boy.

No respect.

Common, you understand.

Oh, I do.

Ask about - the last time
anyone employed here

spoke to Sayid Al-Qadir or Mr. Hafeez.

(HUBBUB)
Order! Order in the court!

Order. Order!

Order, I say!

You said it was a formality.

You assured me. It's taken us 18 months

to get here, Cotter!
Come, Mr. Judge. A lawyer's assurances.

Edmund, might I?

You do not invite us in,

and I understand why,
that it would not seem proper, but...

there is present propriety,

and there is a future where we might,

you and I, construct a world where such
considerations need no longer be met.

Edmund? What...?

Who is she?
Miss Goren!

Deborah.

Hello, Edmund.

You had not heard?

I, er, no longer take the London papers.

Of course. Why would you?

Mathilda, I think you might

get to your books.
My books are read, Father.

Then if you wish, as you say you do,
that I will send you to Oxford,

I suggest you read them again,

or I will call on Mr. Worthing in the
morning and say that, yes, my daughter

would make an admirable
secretarial assistant,

and that will be that for your learning.

Now, Leave us.

How on earth did you find me?

Ah, it was not so hard.

You are still talked of in Whitechapel.
I expect you will be forever.

There's still no policeman afforded
greater respect than Edmund Reid.

Bennet Drake is not afforded respect?
No, of course,

but it is Mr. Drake who...

Who led the investigation which now sees
Isaac Bloom facing execution.

Isaac did not do such a thing.
It is not within him.

And who else shares this conviction?

Only myself...

and I hoped...

perhaps yourself.

So, you thought
that I would now travel to London,

to Whitechapel,
and challenge the care and rigor

with which my friend
has prosecuted this case?

Forgive me, Miss Goren,
but that is a leap of faith

based on no other logic but your own.
I will not do it.

No, it is you who must forgive me.

I am in your home and I've raised you
to anger. Thank you, both of you,

for your hospitality.

No, please, stay.
Stay with us, eat with us.

Please, Deborah, I insist.
So will Mathilda.

Thank you.

(CLEARS HIS THROAT)

I gave thanks when it was said that
your daughter had been returned to you.

I remembered your conviction, and...

and I admire you, Edmund.

It cannot be an easy thing to grant her
the freedom you now so clearly do.

I'm not sure I understand what you mean,
Deborah.

I saw her and her friend -
they boarded my train at Victoria.

I assumed that...

Soot.

Mathilda Reid!

Mathilda!

In here!

Soot, Mathilda, soot.

London. Where is it you go?
To our home, Father.

It is not our home. Not any Lo...

Good God, did you take Valerie Freeman
with you?

To Whitechapel?!
She was curious.

And why should she not be?
It is a fascinating place.

And do you not think, Mathilda,
on what might happen to her? To you?

You of all... You know
what happens in Whitechapel!

I do. I never forget.
And do you see,

my darling, how this pains me?

I brought you here,
I brought us both here

so that in time these memories
might be forgot.

But I am older now. Grown.

And I understand something
I think you do not, Father...

that I am made, and cannot be remade.

Do you not think, despite
all that you have constructed here,

that the same might be true of you?

You will go to your room, Mathilda.

And there will be no more of this,
do you understand?

No more, Mathilda.

(MEN SHOUT)

(MUMBLING)

JACKSON: I do not write the law
in this goddamn country, Caitlin,

neither am I a judge, both of which
resolve that in the absence of a corpse,

seven years must pass
before your father be declared dead

and his worldly goods
handed to his surviving heir...

our son.

Forgive me, but is this not the reason
why we hired a lawyer?

A lawyer only makes the argument.
He don't rule.

And this man - Cotter.

He was the best you could find?

He was.

And by "best", Matthew,
I do mean most costly.

I paid...

what I could muster.

(GASPS)

Well, I am glad to know what value
you place on my life,

that of our son, also.

Now, you wait a minute.

You think I'm out there running
a bullion brokerage? I am not.

I'm the hired knife of a police division
in Whitechapel.

I do not drink no more, I do not gamble,

and I've saved damn near every farthing
I could for our case to be made.

Sobriety and thrift!

You have my sympathies

for the many privations
you must have suffered

in your inevitable pursuit of failure.

I was set on guns and fast horses,
remember?

This was before even your sentence
was passed down,

before even our son was born,

but it was you that said
they'll allow me to raise the boy,

and you that said that
this was not Arizona

and escape should be won with hard cash
and not dynamite.

What I want is
for you to act as a man ought

to protect your family!
(CLUNK)

Or else I will die, Matthew!

I love you.

I can't lose you.

Then save me.

There's no time.

I don't know how.

Then what use are you to me?

Guard!

My husband is leaving.
Darling, please.

Out!

(SOBBING)

You heard it all, I imagine, Dr. Probyn.

All that has been promised,
it may still be yours.

But when?

In due course.

By which you mean after
I have facilitated

you and your son's flight
from these walls.

Ah. It would seem illogical on my part

not to take the promised payment
while you are still... proximate.

Would you see me beg?

I would not.

But men must be bribed...

our friend Guard Theakson,

the good men of the London Wall Laundry

who were to accept the two of you
aboard their cart

the morning after next...

they will not oblige if I cannot
hand to them their incentive.

No.

It will bring nothing but...
but sadness to us all...

but I cannot see
how it may now be done.

Harry, Apples, Freddy,
Edward, Edward, Zebra.

Hafeez.

DRAKE: These are the magazines we took
from the dead lawyer's office?

Yes, Inspector.
No little amount

of bedside reading for you, then.

I shall get about it presently,
however, Inspector.

You're the educated man, Sergeant.
Are you familiar with this title?

Yeah. Founder one Abdullah Quilliam.

He was born William Henry Quilliam,
son of a watchmaker from Liverpool.

Changed his name

upon taking up Mohammedanism.
Eh?

An Englishman, sir, now adhering to
an Eastern religion.

One he promotes and debates
beneath that title.

(SNIFFS)

Look here. "Sayid Al-Qadir".

Seems our dead man
is not only a subscriber,

but a contributor also.
Quite so, sir.

"The Son of Islam
now rises from the west."

(FOOTSTEPS)

How were they, Rose?

How were who?

You know, your audience, the house.

Oh. (CLEARS HER THROAT)

Much as ever.

Thank you.

That dead lad we pulled
from the Western.

Quite some firebrand, he was.

We British, he says, are sea wolves
living off the pillage of the Earth.

Hm.

Such opinion!
Enough to turn his father's beard blue.

Why does that worry you, Bennet?

He's an upright fella. Bengal Lancer.

Sports his stripes with a pride
some might call immodest, but...

I have some feeling for him.

He's never seen the country he serves,

comes here to pay tribute to his Queen,

finds her capital
has taken his boy from him.

You see his grief...

and it moves you.

A father's grief.

Now, Rose...
Am I not to be allowed

my regret, Bennet?
I did not say that.

But you behave on occasion as if
it were myself inflicts it upon you.

And why should you not?

I have not given you
what you had a right to expect.

You give me yourself, Rose,
you give me your love.

That is all I ever...
Don't...

say it.

It is not "all".

It is not.

You may deny it,
but the whole world knows it, Bennet.

They look at their chief of police
and they say to themselves,

"Well, if he will take a one-time...
bonner as his wife..."

Oh, for Christ's...
"...he should have known

"that nothing can ever grow
within that...

"dry old hat that she now keeps
between her legs."

You will stop this! I will not hear it!

My love, these are no man or woman's
thoughts but your own.

Then why, Bennet?

Why can we not give ourselves a child?

(RETCHES)

Who believed but you, Edmund,
that your Mathilda Lived?

All those that cared for you,
myself, Mr. Drake,

all thought it but a forlorn dream,

wrong-headed
and only harmful to yourself.

And yet you had certainty. You knew.

Isaac did not do this thing.

I know it as you knew
your daughter lived.

He did not do this thing.

And think, Edmund,
on what else that might mean.

The true killer still walking
the streets you once knew as home.

You will have missed the last train
by now, I think, Miss Goren.

We shall make a room up for you.

The lady left before daylight,
I believe.

She left a note for you, however.

Ah. You read it, I imagine?

What does it say?

I do not understand it.
There's only one Line.

It is a fragment of verse
from the Talmud.

The Hebrew teachings
given by God to Moses?

Perhaps.
How does it continue?

"Save one life,
you save the world entire."

Inspector Drake.

It is you who's ordered a manhunt?

Fellow called Hafeez?
It is.

He is wanted for questioning
in a murder inquiry.

Never mind that, Inspector.
You come with me.

Yes, sir.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

This is Inspector Constantine.

Our beloved Special Branch.

You know this man?

Come, Mr. Drake.

It can surely come as no shock to you.

It is no shock to myself, after all,
that you here in this gutter

once more give shelter to dissidents
and vile extremism.

What is this?

This man Hafeez. He's on a watchlist.

I would not give that much credence
for this man's word.

This peculiar elevation of yours, Drake.

I'm confused.

It's unlikely to be merited by
a sudden emergence of brains

in that gorilla skull of yours.
Who do you think you're...?!

Sergeant, leave it.

Francis Thatcher. Mother dead,
father invalided on a coal barge.

Sister, Lily.

Two counts of soliciting
before her 18th birthday.

But you are the sole breadwinner in that
household now. Are you not, Sergeant?

Sergeant Drummond.

A man full-grown
still living with his mother.

Do your colleagues here smirk at such?

Assistant Commissioner.

Should you wish to be appraised of
my intelligence, I suggest we leave.

Inspector Drake will join us,
Mr. Constantine.

I insist.

As you prefer, sir.

But you need to hear
what Hafeez has to say.

(MEN CHAT AND ARGUE)

Muslim Patriotic League.

It's mostly an institution
which bears loyalty to its Queen.

There are factions, sirs, splinterings

that do not envision such loyalty
as favorable to men of their faith.

Did I not promise to send word, Major?

I did not undertake to wait for it,
however.

And the man who speaks to crowds
is never such a hard man to find.

Imran Hafeez will now speak.
Wait there.

(APPLAUSE)

Brothers.

We are now everywhere under attack.

And even as our Empress Queen

summons her subjects from
the furthest reaches of her dominion,

her whole nation's press
makes a relentless

and vituperative attack against
the Ottoman Sultan and his Caliphate.

(SIGHS)

It is therefore incumbent upon us,
we Muslim men,

advanced by the privilege
of our British educations,

to illuminate the path forward
to those of our brothers

who are not so advantaged,

a path which leads away
from this Empress Queen,

whose rule is soon to be so loudly
cheered in this city - away from her,

and toward, perhaps,
a more natural leader and benefactor.

He, Abdul Hamid II,

the Sublime Khan, Caliph to all Islam.

(APPLAUSE)

They find such fault in the country
which raises them up?!

Well, let that country

put these moon-faces back down!

(SHOUTING)

Excuse me!

Sorry!

MAN: Hey!

(YELLING)

Little moon-faced goo-goo lawyer,
trying to tell

good Englishmen how they must work,

how they must live?!

(SHOUTS)

Imran, evil child that you are,
you stand behind me!

What's this? You got some toy soldier
to do your fighting for you?

My name
is Risaldar-Major Haroun Al-Qadir.

I have traveled to London
to pay tribute to my Queen.

My Queen is your Queen.

And yet no white working man
in the docks

is invited to march in front of her.

No, we're cursed and forgot.

Huh?!

Major Al-Qadir.

I cannot believe
you are not at fault for this. Come!

Mr. Drake, sir.

I believe you wish to interview
this man, Mr. Drake.

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

CONDUCTOR: Margate, Chatham,

then fast to London Victoria,
ladies and gentlemen.

(GLASS CRUNCHES)

(CHURCH BELLS RING)

Each night, they wipe it clean.

It is not permitted, they say.

But what can they do to me
that is not already done?

I keep the image of it here.

You once told me the language
of the universe was written in numbers.

Now it seems you seek...

numbers within language.
Hebrew, your language.

Your writing system.
Mine is the true belief.

Our language is the true language

because our language is nothing
if it is not numbers.

Show me?

Certainly.

This...

aleph. You may call it the letter A.

This, bet, B.

The sign values - aleph one, bet two.

The Hebrew word for father, Av,
written "aleph, bet".

One plus two equals three. You follow?

Now, see this.

The Torah.

Handed to Moses by God,

and irreducibly, a sequence of numbers.

The Garden of Eden - Kedem.

Numerical sum...

144.

Etz Hayim.

Tree of Life.

Numerical sum...

233.

144, 233. Divide the larger sum
by the smaller.

One and, er...

a little over six tenths?

Correct!

In other words, it approaches...

The golden ratio.

The root structure of life itself.

Forgive me, Mr. Bloom,
but your thesis is much changed.

I...am not as I was, it is true.

Mr...?

Reid.

Inspector Reid, as was.

Mr. Bloom, do you know why you are here?

What it is
that you have been sentenced for?

The guilt that men assume is yours?

Do you know what it is awaits you
in this place?

I... I hope you will return
and talk with me again.

It is rare, here, to find someone
with whom I might share my work.

I shall.

And perhaps I might share
a puzzle of my own.

(TRAIN RATTLES)

(DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

Elenora, thank you. Sorry.

The time...
No, no, it's quite all right, Edmund.

Valerie's spending the evening
with her grandfather.

Besides, Mathilda and I
have been enjoying ourselves.

Soot, Father?

I could no more kill Leon Ratovski...

than I could kill myself.

JACKSON: Not a single night
in three years

have I climbed into my bed
and not dreamed

of what it would be to smell you there.

You think that I'm going to let
the world steal that from me,

you think again.
(WOOD CRACKS)