Original subtitles

That’s a very bold move.

- That’s a terrible decision. - With the greatest respect.

- I think you’re an idiot. - I’ll bear that in mind.

I’ve already forgotten about it?

- Correct. We’re in a bit of a pickle. - We’re all going to die.

Very good. You’re really getting the hang of this.

Thank you. I’ve been practicing.

Although your self-deprecation needs work.

You need to be careful, Cecil, or you’ll over exercise that horse.

We’re toast of the town.

Look, open air opera, garden party, grouse shooting…

Which we’ll decline on conservational grounds.

And I’ve been asked to give a talk on Boston cuisine to the Women’s Institute.

And you’ve been asked if you’d like to join the village darts league?

- Hmm, would I? - Well… according to Mrs. Umney

it involves men hurling pointed missiles at a target.

And what red blooded male wouldn’t like it?

Although maybe not one for the boys.

But it’s nice they’ve made friends though.

And Ginny and Cecil Canterville seem to get on well.

Maybe a little too well?

Well, Ginny’s got more sense than to get involved with an engaged man.

Yeah, of course she does. You know what Hiram I feel we’ve turned a corner.

This place is starting to feel like home.

You know, we should hold a ball. Show them we’re here to stay.

A ball?

Oh, it’s English for party. You know, it’s dinner and dancing and fancy dress.

Oh, when are you thinking?

Oh, Christmas time. Like a Snowball. Theme, “Festive Spirit”.

Sure.

Is it not going well?

Teething problems.

Oh, Sweetie, you’ve already made one fortune for this family.

That should be enough for anyone.

Quieter!

Oh, the clamour cleaves my brain like a cleaver.

Faster. Not so fast. There, there, there.

This introspection is bad for your performance.

These people are evidently on a lowly material place of existence.

Quite incapable of appreciating the symbolic values of sensuous phenomena.

I will’t not play before such an unappreciative audience.

There is the small matter of your contractual obligation.

To appear once a week and gibber from the grand staircase.

Gaunt Gideon, tired cliché.

He’s a classic. Literally, a heart stopper.

I’ll wager he could teach those feral cubs a lesson they’ll wish they could forget.

Oh, I’ll um… just leave it here then.

Here.

Peter Lovell’s plans should be inside this.

Wait, they’re the same, no priest hole.

This isn’t the master plan. There has to be another one.

Wait, the box is wrong.

The dimensions.

- It’s deeper on the outside. - It’s deeper on the outside.

There has to be a secret compartment.

It’s a puzzle right, so there must be a key.

- The key… - What?

…is the key.

What?

This symbol means moon.

- The moon… - Press the moon.

- Nothing. - Try all of them.

Oh My God!

Try this.

"Thank you for risking your life

by running into a burning building to save my children."

An American would respond?

- You’re welcome. - Now in British.

Oh, it was nothing. A stroke of luck. I just happened to be passing?

You’re good.

It isn’t down to me. I had a good teacher.

Spoken like a native.

It’s not so hard when you realise British is merely saying

what you don’t mean to avoid talking about your feelings.

We regard feelings as scabs.

The more you pick away at them the more they bleed.

Ok. Moving on to quick fire pronunciation… VItamin.

- VITamin. - PRIVE-ar-see.

PRIVE-a-see.

FEE-on-say.

How are the wedding plans?

Moppy’s in her element.

To be honest, next summer feels like a lifetime away.

- What are you up to? - Hey, mate.

Cecil’s teaching me British. "Fancy a brew?"

Ok, yah. Thanks.

An escape tunnel running the length of the great wing.

If you were going to wall someone up alive, there’s no better place to do it.

Except the entrance isn’t marked.

Dad’s back.

Come on.

- Come on. - Hurry!

- It won’t go back! - Then work it out he’s coming!

Help me press the moons.

- What are you doing in there? - Hello, Mr. Lovell.

We’re doing a history project and Patience here offered to help us.

With a history project?

She’s extremely well informed in architecture.

In fact she was just explaining

how the North Tower and Great Wing are of Tudor construction built

between 1570 and 1579.

Well… I’m glad she’s taken something in.

But these documents are centuries old and very fragile.

If you do want to see them, in future you ask me.

- Yes, Sir. - Yes, Dad.

Aye, off you go then.

Good boy.

That’s it. That’s the end of that. We’ll never get to see it now.

Oh, yes, we will. I switched the plans.

Is there a problem?

This machine is 70 years old and, er, sometimes needs a bit of a rest.

A minute usually does it.

Oh, look at you, hmm.

How about that? They don’t make ‘em like that anymore Mrs. Umney.

They certainly don’t, Sir.

- Where’s Cecil? - What on earth’s the matter, Moppy?

The wedding is off.

Moppy?

What’s the point of drawing plans for a secret tunnel

and not showing how to get in.

In case they fall into the wrong pair of hands.

It will be marked somewhere. We just have to find it.

So you keep saying. What a waste of time.

- No! - No!

Sorry I’ll dry it ok.

- Stop! It’s burning! - Now look what you’ve done.

It’s not burnt. That’s writing.

What is that?

Patrin. The secret code of our people.

So what does it all mean?

- I’ve no idea. - I’ve no idea.

The wedding, Cecil, we have a situation.

Can we talk about this in private?

Whatever for? This concerns us all.

Prince Richard is making a Commonwealth tour

and will be in the Bahamas for the wedding.

That’s, um… terrible.

Telling me.

Weather in the Caribbean’s filthy that time of year.

Mush, Daddy.

The only reason Hello are coming is on the condition that he’s there.

No Prince Richard equals no wedding.

It’s not the end of the world if we delay it?

Thankfully there’s no need for that.

Quite the opposite in fact.

Debo has sorted everything.

I had a word with Caro Wales and she was frightfully understanding.

Found a window in their diary for December.

And to apologise for the inconvenience,

Dickie has offered to give away the bride.

Suits me.

December is… it’s less than 2 months.

I know what you’re thinking. But it’s all sorted.

Christmas trees instead of flowers. Carols from Kings College Cambridge choir.

Replace the Bedouin tents with ice igloos.

Midsummer Night’s Dream becomes… Narnia.

Where did you get these?

On an old map we found.

Can you translate them?

These are letters, M, C, L,

this is the knot of the four winds, and this, a cockerel feather.

Well, what about the others?

The diamonds and the wheel I don’t recognise, only that is the letter J.

Do you know what it means?

I know that it’s for you to find out.

Good evening, Sir Simon.

Thou dost admire my portrait.

The Cantervilles have always been blest with pulchritudinous visages.

Forgive me for saying, but you haven’t aged at all well.

The undead age like the living, just a bit slower.

In time the flesh will drop from my body,

my repertoire reduced to clanking bones,

and eventually even they will crumble to dust.

Floating in limbo for all eternity.

That’s terrible.

Almost five hundred years I have not slept, I’m so tired.

Sir Simon, may I ask about Lady Eleanor…

Whatever for?

Ghastly woman.

Never had my ruffs starched properly,

and knew nothing, nothing about cookery.

She died in 1576 which is a year after a legend says you killed her…

Ginny!

Hi, Honey, I thought I heard voices.

Only me.

Goodness, it’s cold in here.

Beautiful, isn’t it?

Sure is.

You know

even if you haven’t found Simeon Otis it doesn’t mean you don’t belong here.

Or that you aren’t the same man.

An exceptional man who I couldn’t be more proud of.

Hiram, is there something else?

I’m ruined, Lucy.

Hiramco over extended and the bank called in the debt.

What? Hiram why didn’t you tell me?

We were hoping for a last minute bail out.

I didn’t want to worry you until it was certain.

I’ve lost everything.

It’s gone, Lucy. The company, the money, everything.

No, Hiram, not everything. Not anything that matters.

We’ve got our health, each other and we have the children.

How do you think they’ll take it?

So, does that mean we’re leaving?

On the contrary. The house is the only thing the banks can’t seize

because it doesn’t belong to the company.

But we’re no longer rich.

You give us 20 dollars a week allowance. You can keep that.

And the treasure, that’s if we find it.

Hey, that won’t be necessary,

you know we may not be rich, but we aren’t destitute.

I can get a job, Dad.

There’s really no need. You know I’m going back to work.

Remember, you know, all this is, is temporary.

Your Dad’s working hard on his new invention.

And if he can invent one fortune, hey, I’m sure he can invent another one.

Darn right I can.

"Gideon enters as an icy cold spectre.

The boy childes wake in their beds.

Their screams strangling in their throats."

"Scream whilst thou canst my pretties."

"The monstrous apparition sits upon their chests

producing stifling sensation of nightmare till they are paralysed with fear."

"Angels in heaven, help us!"

How canst they scream while paralysed with fear?

Does paralysis include vocal cords? That doesn’t give you much to play off.

Perhaps partial paralysis might convey more terror.

Ah, "Aguls, hellc us?"

Oh, better.

"Deaf to their entreaties the blood sucker stalks the room

baring his carmine teeth and uttering groans from the grave."

I think the… oOh… has more gravitas.

See this, Danby.

The rich vulgar Americans are now just vulgar Americans.

Indeed, your Ladyship.

See if the boy will come to his senses now.

My Dad was never cut out for the boardroom.

Turns out the guy he left in charge wasn’t either.

Over expanded in southeast Asia just before the economic downturn.

Are you leaving?

The Chase, it appears, is the only roof we have left over our heads.

I’m glad… not about…

- I’m glad you aren’t leaving. - Not when I’ve just learnt the language.

I need to tell you something. About the wedding.

Can it wait? I have to get back.

Come on, Jim, see you soon!

- Boys, stop making a mess. - Cockerel feather, four winds,

M, C, L, J and a diamond. Wheel of clubs and two diamonds.

Can you turn that darn thing off we’re trying to think here.

You’ve been staring at it for days.

- No. We need a different plan. - Have you got one?

Capture the Ghost

and don’t release him until he’s told us where the Priest hole is.

Like we can catch a ghost… We aren’t Ghostbusters.

The ghost is made of atoms, particles of matter like dust. And how do we trap dust?

Cytronic technology.

Exactly. All we need to do is calculate the mass and recalibrate.

Sweetie, did you know the Stilton Canterville wedding’s been moved forward?

It’s December 18th now.

Why would that affect me?

Would you like some eggs, Miss?

No thank you, Mrs. Umney.

I’m not very hungry. I think I’ll skip breakfast.

What’s all that about?

Hiram can you not see what’s going on right under your nose?

Mushrooms, Sir?

I take it you’ve heard?

What’s it to do with me?

Virginia and I are just friends.

I’m neither blind nor senile

and I won’t let you risk this marriage.

This isn’t just about you. It’s about the future of this family.

It sounds more like a merger than a marriage.

That’s exactly what it is.

The British aristocracy are becoming an endangered species.

Money and birth right no longer go hand in hand.

If we are to survive we must stick together.

You have two choices Cecil.

Marry Moppy Stilton

or throw your lot in with a penniless American and become a pauper too.

I will cut you off without a penny

and leave Featherstonehaugh to the National Trust.

So, what’s it to be?

Cecil? Are you there?

Coming.

I’m glad you’ve seen sense.

You ok, honey?

Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?

Not riding today?

I don’t feel like it.

Look, I don’t want to interfere…

Mom, you always say that right before you interfere.

When you have kids yourself you’ll realise it’s in the job description.

And I couldn’t help but notice that you and Cecil have gotten close.

And maybe the wedding moving forward is for the best.

Mom, I appreciate the concern but you’re way off the mark.

Cecil and I are just friends, and I couldn’t be happier for him.

Sure, all I’m saying is I’m here if you wanna talk.

Actually, Mom, I’ve some work in the library I need to do.

Oh, Dad’s genealogy project?

Not exactly.

That’s it. Right there. Now tie it off.

Come on, it’s heavy.

- I’m trying. - Then try harder.

Here goes.

Alright.

A most ignominious chapter in this family’s history.

Suffice said, he was a wicked man who killed his wife,

and after stole the family’s jewels and fled as a thief in the night,

whence justice struck.

Set upon by his wife’s brothers and bricked up alive within his own walls,

so he would never be shriven.

I’m guessing you tried giving it a rest.

- She’s at rest for good now, Sir. - Ah, sorry to hear that.

Never failed me in over 50 years.

I suppose I shouldn’t get upset over a machine.

Oh, no, no, I know exactly what you mean.

I mean, Bessie here she’s part of the family. You want me to take a look?

I know a thing or two about vacuums. Bet there’s life in the old girl yet.

Thank you, Sir.

Oh, thank you.

So, tell me, why all the interest in Sir Simon?

His so called legend is full of inconsistencies.

It says he killed his wife, but Lady Eleanor died in 1576,

and here it says he was murdered by his wife’s brothers,

who, at the time, were aged just eleven and twelve.

Intriguing.

Sounds like you have a cold case on your hands.

…unless he had another wife.

I am the Otis ghost.

The only true and original spook beware of ye imitations.

All others are counterfeit.

How dare’st thee, trespass about Canterville?

On my birth night, get back ye varlet.

Now!

- Gotcha. - What will you do with it?

- Analyse the mass to atom ratio. - You can do that?

We know a man who can.

I was tricked?

Tricked, foiled and outwitted.

They defiled me.

I am mutilated. Incomplete.

The haunter hath become the hunted.

- Darn it! - Hey, Dad.

Hey, guys.

What do you need?

We just want to work out the mass to atom ratio.

Of what?

Oh, then you’ll need to run a deformulation program.

Can I ask what it is?

Just kids’ stuff. We’re trying to make a new type of stink bomb.

Hmm, hmm.

Well, this ought’er do it. That’s a mass atom analyser.

You’re welcome to use it on one condition.

You tell me what you’re really doing?

Truth this time.

It’s Sir Simon.

Sir Simon as in…?

The ghost. Well a sample of him anyway.

We trying to work out his mass so we can make a ghost catcher.

Then, we’ll force him tell us where the Canterville treasure is buried.

Oh, you will? Well you got to go figure it out, be my guest.

How are you…

Oh, never mind.

Hey, Ralph.

Waiting for someone?

I was… just giving Jim a rest.

Er, do you, do you want some company then?

That’d be great.

A human adult is made up of approximately octillion atoms.

However our ghost here comprises just half that and they appear to be lighter.

So he’s like us just less substantial?

Exactly. So what we really need to do is recalibrate the cyclone

and we can suck him up.

How are we going to do that one, Einstein?

Cytronic technology obviously.

Is this really necessary?

I wouldst not expect

a hedge born fustilarian to appreciate the nuances of an understated performance.

And there is a great deal to be said for this invention.

I’m sorry it’s not better news.

Every internal part would need replacing,

so while she’d look the same on the outside,

inside there’d be nothing left of the original.

I don’t think she’d like that, Sir.

Neither do I, Mrs. Umney.

I appreciate you trying but all good things come to an end.

Not necessarily. Some good things should be preserved.

Which is why I’d like you to talk to this guy.

Doctor Leonard Glanville. Curator of the Museum of Domestic Science in Detroit.

I hope you don’t mind

but it’s rare to find an item like this in such well maintained condition.

And, with your agreement he’d like to acquire her.

There’s a museum of domestic science?

Americans have a museum for everything.

Well, you can see for yourself if you say yes.

She’ll be preserved and put on display for all to admire

which seems much more fitting than the scrap heap.

Indeed it does, Sir.

I’m not sure they can hear you at the back.

Hail the Heaven born Prince of Peace

Hail the Son of righteousness

Light and life to all he brings

Risen with healing in his wings

Mild he lays his glory by

Born that we no more may die

Born to raise…

Season’s greetings.

Henry Jarndyce. Attorney at Law.

Janice Reynolds Insolvency Litigation Specialists.

London office.

It was good of you to come all this way, Mr. Jarndyce.

There are a lot of documents for signature,

so it was thought best to send someone to witness them in person.

And as it transpires a delightful interlude.

What a magnificent abode. It’s like stepping back in time.

You don’t know the half of it.

Slow down.

There’s been a mistake here. The Chase is our family home so therefore exempt.

Ah, yes. An anomaly was spotted.

Oh, this is excellent.

Imperial jasmine oolong from the Wuyi mountains if I’m correct?

Thank you, I don’t really… What kind of anomaly?

The Chase was purchased with company funds and only later transferred to the family

rendering it liable to be seized by the company creditors.

Did you not receive notification from your legal team?

The communications round here are rather erratic.

There must be something we can do. Some legal loophole…

I’m afraid not. It’s all there. Signed and notarised.

Rather annoying I expect.

Rather.

FIVE! GOLD! RRRRRINGSSSSSSSS!

Marvellous.

I was in an a capella group at Corpus Christi.

"Light my Choir!" Those were the days.

Anyway, I won’t stay in your hair.

I can see you’re hard at work

on a veritable explosion of yuletide festivities.

FIVE GOLD RRRRINGS!

Excellent.

It only remains for me to wish you a very merry Christmas.

Where will we live?

Your Grandparents’ cottage in Maine.

They’ve said we can stay there just till we get back on our feet.

I can’t tell you how sorry I am.

I’ve let you all down.

It’s ok, Dad. It’s not like I’ve any reason to stay.

Err, we do. We’re "this" close to finding the Canterville treasure.

So, when do we leave?

We’ve got till Christmas.

Well, the ball’s already paid for, so if we’re going we’ll go out with a bang

and we’ll throw the best ball this county’s ever seen.

Right kids?

I suppose you’ve heard the news?

The Chase is up for sale and the Americans are leaving.

Shame. Hiram Otis is a top chap.

It’s not like they ever fitted in. I doubt they’ll be missed.

Where are you off to in such a hurry?

Riding. I think Magnus needs the exercise.

- Will it work on the Ghost? - There’s only one way of finding out.

How do we know he’ll show up?

I have a plan.

You’re leaving.

So it seems.

I’m sorry I…

Don’t be. It’s not like I’ve any reason to stay.

What if you did? Have a reason to stay.

That would depend on the reason.

I… I’ll sort this out. Just promise me you won’t go.

Please, say something.

I’m translating.

I promise.

I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night. We’ll talk then.

They are leaving.

I have frightened them away?

Not exactly. This is for you.

What ist?

A ball. On the night of the anniversary of my death.

Theme: "Festive Spirit."

They are holding a celebration in mine honour!

This I must attend.

And risk running into the body stealing hell childes?

Oh, then a discrete attendance.

I shalt mingle unrecogniséd in plain sight.

This, this news is positively restorative.

I feel like a new ghost!

Hey, Frank, can you come and grab a hold of this ladder?

Oh, beautiful.

- Hi, Mom. - Hi, Honey.

Mrs. Umney. This looks great. Need some help?

Oh, er, you can trim the eucalyptus. I’ll just go and fetch some secateurs.

- Good ride? - Great thanks.

Did you meet anyone?

Just Cecil. Why are you asking?

I dunno…

Did something happen?

I’m just looking forward to the ball.

I never meant it to happen… Or to hurt you.

You’re a terrific girl. Kind and beautiful.

Except perhaps just… not for me.

I’m so sorry.

Lady Deborah is waiting in the car Master Cecil.

Coming.

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen

When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and…

So sorry we were late… I’ll er, get ready.

Very festive, you have made an effort.

Well, you too. Welcome. So glad you could make it.

- Sorry to hear you’re selling up. - Oh, thank you. I’m sorry we’re going.

- I’ll come and find you. - Yes, such a shame you’re going.

But at least you’ll be able to attend the wedding.

Welcome. So glad you could make it.

Oh, you don’t need to be on duty tonight, Mrs. Umney.

You’re here to enjoy yourself. Who is it you’ve come as?

Mrs. Danvers.

Rebecca is my favourite novel.

Of course.

Judith Anderson.

The only version Daphne Du Maurier would have approved of,

in my humble opinion.

Humble or not, it is an opinion I admit to sharing.

Sorry.

You, er… you dropped this.

Thank you.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year

With the kids jingle belling

And everyone telling you’ll be of good cheer…

Can I have a word. There’s something I’d like to run by you.

Ok, sure.

It’s the hap, happiest season of all

With those holiday meetings and gay happy greetings

Oh, my liege.

Such an assemblage, and all this in mine honour, I’m almost humble.

Oh, your pardon, madam.

See, Cesspitt, my heart is soothed, to see

Canterville once more filled with such genteel company.

To your left…

Cheery bye, I’m off.

Perhaps I should peruse from a less public place.

Hey, boy. What’s the matter with him?

He can smell Ghost.

He’s here. That lady must have touched him.

Let’s go.

Listen. Um, I, I know what the score is on Cecil.

And I may be a dunce but he’s my best friend… and I know him you see…

- Ralph, I… - No, no… hear, hear me out.

What I’m saying is I don’t mind being his leftovers.

Rather used to it in fact. And as for money…

no object as it would take an act of parliament for my father to disinherit me.

Are you? Is this… a proposal?

I, I wouldn’t tie you down.

Whack out an heir and a spare and you’re free to do your own thing.

I think we’d rub along quite nicely.

So what, what, what do you… what do you say?

Ralph… can you take off the sunglasses?

Yeah, yeah, sure, course, yeah.

Ralph you’re a… great guy.

You don’t need to be anyone’s… leftovers…

because one day you’ll find a woman who deserves you.

Just promise me that before then you’ll work on your proposal speech.

Right, roger that.

Still, isn’t a no is it?

- He must have gone up. - Everyone know what they’re doing?

Go, go, go.

Don't you lock the doors

You know that sweet Santa Claus is on the way

Well I wish it could be Christmas everyday

When the kids start singing and the band begins to play

You look wonderful, my dear. Quite like you’re going into battle.

The prize being Prince Charming?

But remember, dear, Joan of Arc was burnt.

And this isn’t a fairy tale,

there will be no "happy ever after" for Cecil

if he makes an unsuitable match.

I will disinherit him and all his grand plans

for Featherstonehaugh will come to nothing.

You would force him to marry a woman he doesn’t love?

Love is such a lower class concept.

You imagine it shines so bright it will conquer all.

Trust me, the lustre will fade

when you’re in social housing wondering how to pay the electricity bill.

You’re wrong. Cecil doesn’t care about any of that.

He loves me.

I’m sure he does.

The question is, without all "this" can he love himself?

Sometimes my dear the greatest act of love is to let go.

Alone at last. I’ve been trying to get away all evening.

Listen, I haven’t had the chance to tell Moppy yet…

Good. Don’t.

What? Why?

It would be a mistake.

We were a mistake that got out of hand. It’s not too late to put it right.

I don’t want to put it right — I want you.

And lose Featherstonehaugh?

You’ve been talking to my grandmother. You mustn't listen to her.

I can’t be the woman of your dreams.

Because I can’t make your dreams come true.

There he is!

Now!

What sorcery is this!

Thou art demonic.

Keep going, it’s working!

Help me.

- Take that Ghost! - No!

We’ll talk about this later.

Blow me over if it didn’t work. How did you do it?

Adhesive vapor in the cylinder.

You don’t say…

It would have worked too if not for that darn rat.

- He’s probably gone to ground by now. - At least we know it works for next time.

There may not be a next time. You’re leaving.

Yeah, you’re right.

This is our leaving party so let’s go back in there,

eat and dance and have a good time.

Hey, you coming?

Four winds and a cockerel. And look at the wind spinner.

What about it?

It should be spinning, especially in a wind like this.

It’s pointing towards the chapel.

I’m sorry about my brothers but if it’s any consolation we’re leaving soon.

Thou art grief stricken but canst console thyself.

Even if she is a Featherstonehaugh.

She didst speak the truth.

A scion of the house of Canterville

aligned with a penniless colonial, past childbearing years, is unthinkable.

But if be true and thy hearts lie entwined

then naught can preventeth him taking thee as his mistress.

Thank you for the "consolation", Sir Simon

but I’ve had the Cantervilles up to here for one night.

Virginia, look, hold up!

- Ralph, please, not now. I have to go. - Please, no, hear me out.

I heard what you said and I’ve given it a re-think.

- Now’s not a good time… - No, no really.

I’ve rethought the whole thing… it’s much improved.

Um, I should probably have a ring for this, but you can… you can just pretend.

Virginia Otis, you are a Goddess amongst… all the other girls…

Would you do me the honour…

Desist from spewing forth thine unwanted attentions upon this maiden

or I shall rip out thy filthy mouth from thy body.

Submit, or thou die’est knave.

Suggr uncur!

Thank you.

A trifle.

The Stiltons have always over exalted themselves

and their womenfolk resemble horses.

I like horses.

There you see, thou canst forget thy grief.

For interludes.

I fool myself.

The pain of lost love never heal-eth.

‘Tis almost five hundred years from the day my love died.

The pain doth grow sharper with every hour that passes.

Sir Simon, did you have another wife?

Ethelinda.

You had a son?

I didst kill them both.

And I am curséd to the torture of limbo for mine actions.

But that was nearly half a millennium

and whatever your crime

the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial.

The 6th amendment as enshrined in the U.S. constitution.

Your words are meaningless.

I guess…

I guess, what I’m saying is, if you still want me,

I’ll plead your case before the Angel of Death.

Thou didst declare thyself unworthy.

I can’t just sit back and watch a clear miscarriage of justice.

Every crime has mitigation

and given you’ve shown remorse

and taking into account time spent on remand in limbo…

I’d say we had a chance.

Thou wouldst do this for me?

What are we looking for?

I have no idea. Let’s hope we know when we find it.

The 4th dimension.

Fraught with danger and n’er for the fainthearted.

I’m not afraid.