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That damned woman.

Hold
your board higher, please.

There's been
a terrible mistake.

I must insist on speaking

to Inspector Wellington
immediately.

I can explain.

It's just a misunderstanding.

Misunderstandings seem to
follow you wherever you go.

Fine. I never should have
requested the assistance

of my friends, but it was a
particularly complex case.

Mr. Potts is your friend now,
is he?

Not exactly.

He was calling on Ivy
when the police showed up

accusing me of
all manner of wrong doing.

Public disorder.

Solomon pretended
to be intoxicated.

Identity fraud.

I gave Ivy that cover
in good faith.

How was I to know that my old
head mistress was still alive?

Theft?

Clementine is a law
unto herself.

I never told her to pickpocket
a government minister.

Please do not tell me any more.

William�

thank you for ensuring no
charges will be brought.

I will give you no more trouble.

Oh, how I would
love to believe that.

Sign your release form.

Barnabus is in
a terrible state.

He was signing his release
form with shaking hands, Lizzie.

Never has he been so humiliated.

I said I'm sorry.

I wouldn't be surprised
if he never sets foot

in our house again.

If only.
This is all Moses's fault.

If he'd been on hand
I wouldn't have had to

look elsewhere for help.

Where is Moses, anyway?

Hit him!

Go on!

Oh, yeah!

Pay up, pay up.

I believe I have some winnings?

Police, nobody move.

Do I need remind you
that gambling

without a license is illegal?

Get them in the wagon, lads.

I'm a fair man,
so I'll give you two choices.

Arrest, or you give me
some information.

I need to track down a certain
suspect who's gone to ground.

I'll tell you who.

But it's a highly
confidential case.

So you must
keep it to yourself.

Is it Logan Cooper?

How do you know that?

He's wanted in connection
with an armed robbery

at the Winchester Bank.

You have two witnesses,
a Mr. Hall and a Mr. Myman.

You've launched
a manhunt for Cooper

but the only information
you have

is that he was last seen in the
Charing Cross area

on Tuesday night.

That's classified information.

Who's your snitch?

It was no snitch.

Thanks to your rag of a paper,

my prime suspect now knows
that we are looking for him.

And my two key witnesses

both of which you've named,

have now got a sudden
case of amnesia.

This isn't the first time
that you have

interfered with one
of my investigations.

Who gave you the tip-off?

What kind of a world
would we live in, Inspector,

if a Chief Correspondent
revealed his source?

The kind where you
find yourself

beaten to a pulp
if you don't.

Which police officer gave
you this information?

It wasn't just one.

Tipping off the press stops.

Now, I don't care
how much they're paying,

nor do I care how many
free pints, free dinners

or free women
they dangle in front of you.

You do not speak to anyone
outside of this department

about ongoing investigations!

But it's always
been the way, Skipper.

How else do we
supplement the old wages?

I have turned
a blind eye till now.

No more speaking to journalists!

Sir, my friend Mr.
Lawrence is an Opera Critic

for The Sunday Times

and we are due to see Gilbert
and Sullivan's Iolanthe

this very eve.

Am I to understand that
I should not attend?

Oh, my dear Mr. Lawrence,

however will you cope
without me?

I wasn't talking to you,
Charlie.

No? Well, maybe you
shouldn't talk at all,

you bloody idiot.

Pack it in, the pair of you!

Get back to work.

Yeah!

Goodness knows what
Barnabus must think.

Such a fine upstanding man
spending the night in a cell.

It is not right.

I've learned a valuable lesson,
Ivy.

Tackling such an extensive
case was naive of me.

Well, I will sleep better
knowing you have curbed

your ambitions.

I'm not going to curb anything.

I'm going to expand.

If I am to employ
skilled personnel

I need to be properly resourced.

In short, I need more money.

Where you going?

The bank to ask for a loan.

And I will not take no for
an answer.

No.

Absolutely not.

Out of the question,
I'm afraid.

I just wanted to check
if we are still

to dine this evening?

This evening?

The last Wednesday
of each month we dine

and the last Wednesday each
month I have to remind you.

Would you mind
if we rearranged?

Yes fine, we can rearrange�
again.

Again?

Yeah, you did this last month.

Oh, yes. I'm sorry.

I'm just having
a particularly vexing day.

My prime suspect in an armed
robbery has done a runner.

So, it cannot be
any worse than mine.

Not that it's a competition.

Then why are you making it so?

I apologise.
It's not your fault.

It's his.

That damn journalist Sinclaire

has leaked confidential
information,

hence my missing man.

Can't you get him
to remove the story

for the later edition?

Damage is already done.

Two hundred thousand souls
will have read it by now,

amongst them,
my prime suspect.

Two hundred thousand?

Sadly, yes.
There seems to be

an insatiable appetite
for the gutter press.

Perhaps Mr. Potts is right,

the country's going
to hell in a handcart.

Two hundred thousand?

Mr. Sinclaire.

Your office said
I would find you here.

I would like to place an
advert in your newspaper.

As usual I'm run off my feet,

but you can never
have too many clients.

I have a better idea,
Miss Scarlet.

Something far superior
to a mere�advert.

Shall we?

You want to hire me
and run an article

on the investigation?

You may wish to call it
an article,

I would much rather a five
part serialized adventure

featuring The Lady Detective.

I can think of no better
advert for your services.

See, my readership are bored
of stories about the police,

so dull, so predictable,

but you�

that is an altogether
more alluring prospect.

So, what is this case?

Last night one of my
illustrators attended a show

at the Flanders Theater,
just off Lulworth Lane.

The proprietor had
commissioned an advert

and said illustrator
was there sketching

the various acts.

When it was the turn of
the in-house magician,

Alfonso, the Great
Italian Illusionist,

it began as a rather
generic magic act.

But then, something
extraordinary happened.

So last night the Great
Alfonso did his vanishing act.

But actually did vanish?

Disappeared into thin air,
from that very box.

- Miss�?
- Ling.

Talk me through exactly
what happened, Miss Ling.

Every detail.

Well, I've been Alfonso's
assistant for many years

and we do the same act,
every night.

And last night was no different.

As usual, we walked
onto the stage

and performed our act to music,

then it came
to the vanishing trick

and Alfonso climbed into the box

only but this time,
he didn't reappear.

The box was empty.

Tell me about the trick.

We do all the usual
setup business.

The girl,

the box,

the sense of expectation.

Then Alfonso gets inside.

I push in the plunger,

he waves the handkerchief
to show he's still in there.

I keep pushing
until he disappears.

I show that he's gone,
and the box is empty.

Then I pull the plunger
back out.

And Alfonso reappears.

But like I said, last
night he didn't reappear.

There must be
a rational explanation.

Show me how he
initially disappears.

It's a side compartment.

It's cushioned with enough
depth to allow Alfonso

to lean back
and escape the plunger.

There's also a secret
compartment for his legs.

Hmm.

That's very clever.

But it doesn't explain
why he didn't reappear.

And you're absolutely certain

he didn't sneak out of the box?

I'm sure.

I mean, one
minute he was in there,

and the next minute he was gone.

Where was the last place
Alfonso would have been

before coming on stage
last night?

Budalo.

Watch where you are going.

- Excuse me?
- Yeah?

I think I took a wrong turn.

I'm looking for
Alfonso's dressing room?

Oh, typical, it is all
about Alfonso today.

I have no time for this.
Odlazi.

- Pardon?
- Bugger off!

Excuse me, I was looking
for the dressing room

of the magician?

Which one?
My father or the other magician?

Alfonso, the missing one.

Missing?

Alfonso would love that.

He's full of fun.

Loves playing tricks on people.

Oh, you think
this a publicity stunt?

I fear you may be right.

I've been hired to find him.

I'm a private investigator.

You're what?

Sorry.
Do people say that a lot?

Let's just say it's a source
of consternation for some.

My father has convinced himself

that everyone wishes to know
the tricks of his trade.

I built him this chest
to keep him happy.

Magicians are as paranoid
as they are competitive.

Your father's
the other magician?

Slaven the Sorcerer.

Milena, you are late for
rehearsal.

Papa, this is Miss Scarlet.

She's a private investigator.

She's a what?

Alfonso's dressing room?

Third door down.

This whole thing is ridiculous.

Miss Scarlet?

Apologies I was not here
to greet you.

I am the theater owner,
Mr. Flanders.

I come from a meeting with
your client, Mr. Sinclaire.

He informs me you are
the best in the business.

A lady detective.

How extraordinary.

Hmm.

So, how goes your investigation?

Well, I'm afraid I can
find no rational explanation

for your magician's
disappearance.

Well, that's because the
cause of Alfonso's vanishing

is one of a supernatural nature.

Supernatural?

It is the work of
the Flanders Phantom.

A malevolent force

that many have seen
over the years in the theater.

As I told Mr. Sinclaire
not half an hour ago,

there is a ghostly apparition
behind the missing magician.

That is quite a headline,
Mr. Flanders.

It even rhymes.

Does it?

I hadn't really given it
much thought.

I believe I am done here.

Who was that?

What's it gotta do with you?

I was only asking.

Well, don't.

If you must know, it's Detective
Lenahan from Bow Street.

He's assisting in
the Cooper case.

Come on, cough up.

I'm dying of thirst here.

It's your round.

But I've not finished
my drink yet.

Tough, I ain't got money
to buy myself another,

thanks to the skipper and
his ban on the press.

Inspector Wellington clearly
thinks

it's the right thing to do.

Well, it's hitting me and
the lads in our pockets.

We're not all born with a
silver spoon in our gob.

Now, get yourself to the bar.

And as your senior officer,
that's a direct order.

A body's been pulled
from the river,

right by Charing Cross Bridge.

Looks like our manhunt for
Cooper might be over, lads.

That ain't Logan Cooper.

Who is he then?

Mr. Sinclaire?

I do apologise for the
interruption, Miss Scarlet,

but I am most eager
to parley with you.

And I you, Mr. Sinclaire.

I'm sure you're aware
this missing magician

is nothing more
than a publicity stunt.

Oh, he is no longer
missing.

He is dead.

Plucked from the bowels
of the Thames

this very darkest of nights.

It seems your serialised case

has become
a murder investigation.

And with it, promotion
to the front page.

No one in or out without
my say so, is that clear?

Yes, Sir.

Good morning Miss Scarlet.

Detective Fitzroy.

Access to the theater is by

Inspector Wellington's
authority only.

I cannot let you in, I'm afraid.

Oh, but I'm running
an investigation here

and Inspector Wellington is
fully supportive of that.

Am I, indeed?

Inspector Wellington.

It would be most helpful
if you would grant me

with access to the theater.

No.

I'm in the middle of a case.

So I've heard.

Hired by that weasel Sinclaire.

William,
we can help each other.

I have prior knowledge
of this case.

Do not William me.

This is a murder investigation

and that rag of a paper
will not hamper me again.

Mr. Sinclaire has assured
me that not one word

will be printed
until the case is closed.

And I don't believe one word

that comes out
of that toad's mouth.

You know, Henry wouldn't
have worked

with a crook like Sinclaire.

Here, walk on!

Perhaps my father
had more options open to him.

And furthermore he would
be most upset to know

that you'd belittle
me by saying such a thing.

What?

I was just trying to work out

if you're genuinely offended

or if this is just one of your
ploys to make me feel guilty.

What a low opinion
you have of me.

Good. That clears that up.

You always say that when
you're trying to manipulate me.

You're not coming in.

Then I will have no choice
but to run my own investigation.

As you wish, but as long as
that newspaper is your client,

stay out of mine.

Come along.

This is the poster
from the theater

and this is the sketch
from the illustrator,

done the night Alfonso
disappeared.

And?

Well�

in the sketch the magician holds
a plain black wand

but in the poster he has
an ornate silver one.

Oh, that's because the
magician didn't use a wand

the night the illustrator
did the sketch.

But, people do love to see
a magician with a wand,

so, I asked him to add one in.

I hope I'm not disturbing you?

I�I was just, er,
checking on Miss Ling.

Dreadful news about Alfonso.

Poor girl's distraught.

What are you doing here?
Did you follow me?

I just need
a moment of your time.

Alfonso's death is now
a murder investigation.

It is not a matter for
tabloid consumption.

It is a matter for the police.

I can assure you, Mr. Flanders,

that Mr. Sinclaire is still
very much invested in your case,

as am I.

His newspaper should be
reporting only one thing

about my theater, that we are
still open for business.

Seven days a week.

Two matinees at the weekend.

I understand
you don't want publicity

relating to the death,
but I still have questions.

And I am afraid that
neither Miss Ling

nor any of my staff
will be answering them.

I see.

Well, in that case,
I'm sure the readership

of the Illustrated Police News

would love a personal story
instead.

Perhaps something about you,
Mr. Flanders?

You're married with children,
are you not?

Very well.

Do not be late back.

Yes Mr. Flanders.

I merely have one question,
Miss Ling.

Alfonso didn't use his wand
during the last performance.

Was that unusual?

Very.

But the day before
he told me he was selling it.

I was surprised since it had
such great sentimental value

to him.

But it was worth a lot of money
and I assumed he needed it

for his retirement.

His retirement?

Next month was his 50th
anniversary in the business.

That's when he planned
to give the act up.

Do you know who
Alfonso sold his wand to?

The entertainment
shop in Carnaby Street.

I've already told
the inspector this.

The inspector?

Good afternoon, Sir.
Mr. Baggott at your service.

Good afternoon.

I was hoping to speak to
the owner, Mr. Faversham?

Of course, Sir.

But I must warn you,
he does like to chat.

It's just my little joke.

It is not, of course,
a real skull

or indeed, Mr. Faversham.

Although the dear old fellow
did pass away ten years back.

I've been the owner ever since

and I decided to keep the name.

How can I help you
this fine day?

You can stop doing that
for a start.

Of course, Sir.

I'm Inspector Wellington
from Scotland Yard.

I'm here to ask you some
questions about a magician,

Alfonso?

The Great Italian Illusionist?

Oh, what has he done now?

He's always up to mischief,
that one

and playing tricks.

You know, I remember
this one time,

it really is rather funny.

He said that he could get
me a rabbit for my act

but when I opened the bag�

He's dead, Mr. Baggott.

Excuse me one moment.

Thank you.

I told you to stay out
of my investigation.

It's not just your
investigation.

I'm not having
this conversation again.

Fine, go back in
and question him then.

I'll merely wait my
turn and do the same.

What sense is that?

If one word of this is
printed before the case

- is closed�
- It will not be. I swear it.

So, Alfonso was
a regular customer?

How I did enjoy his visits.

And he sold you his wand,
is that correct?

He was supposed to.

I sell new,
as well as used props.

Although I would hardly
call his wand a prop.

The magic act has been in his
family for five generations,

father to son, and each one is
given an exquisite silver wand.

He was the fifth Alfonso
the Great Italian Illusionist.

Though, nothing Italian
about them of course.

They were from Kilburn.

So, he took over
from his father?

Yes.

When his father retired,
Alfonso,

being on the small side,

actually had his shoes built up

so that he was the same height

so that nobody could tell
when one Alfonso

took over from the next.

You say that he was
planning to sell you the wand?

He was due to come into
the shop at seven o'clock

before going on stage yesterday.

Alfonso really was the most
punctual of gentlemen, so�

it really was out of
the ordinary

when he never turned up.

So Alfonso didn't use
his wand in his act,

even though he was
yet to sell it.

Nor did he turn up for
his appointment two hours

before he was due on stage.

When you examined the body,
were there any additional clues?

Nothing of note.

Perhaps I could see
the autopsy report?

Eliza, I allowed you to
sit in on the questioning

but that is as far as it goes.

Now, if you will excuse me.

You're in rather a hurry.

I have other cases
to attend to attend to.

You just sniffed and we
both know what that means.

That I have a cold?

That you're lying.

Is there something
you're not telling me?

Good day, Eliza.

An apology would've been nice.

There's no manners these days.

Hairline fracture at
the side of the skull

but cause of death, drowning.

Time of death says
it could be anything

between six o'clock
and midnight.

His act finished at ten,

which gives a two hour window
for when he died.

Anything else?

Signs of liver damage.

Could be a drinker?

These are his possessions.

Just the clothes
he was found in.

Could be the police have
taken anything of importance.

What's with the heels?

He was on the short side.

According to the owner
of the entertainment shop

he had them built up so he was
the same height as his father.

What's that?

The Thames.

Moses.

Are you sure
about this?

I'm always sure.

That key has one purpose,
and one purpose only.

- To open a safe.
- Where is it then?

Ooh, ooh, ooh. Ah!

I can't see a damn
thing. Need more light.

A genie's lamp.
How apt for a magician.

This lamp is stuck to the table.

Looks like we found our safe.

Alfonso's wand.

Why would a magician do
his act without his wand

when it was here at the
theater all the time?

The same reason he didn't
turn up to his appointment

at Faversham's shop.

Whoever was on stage that
night wasn't Alfonso.

It was an imposter

because Alfonso
was already dead.

Here!

Missing wands, hidden safes,

a murderous imposter,
delicious, simply delicious.

Although, my thoughts and
prayers are obviously

with the family of the dead man.

So, what's your next move?

Well, since this is
a murder investigation

and I have discovered
crucial evidence,

my only option
is to inform the police.

Specifically
Inspector Wellington.

Never was there
a finer detective.

Quite.

Yes, you must speak to
him right away.

Although�

Although?

Well, a murder mystery solved
by a woman working alone,

now, that is a compelling
narrative

but should Inspector Wellington
become involved

not that I wish to speak ill
of such an upstanding officer,

but, well, there is a chance
he may overshadow your part

in the story.

Not intentionally, of course.

But my fear is that
he becomes the lead character

and you become�
a mere supporting role.

But, if you were to
delay speaking to him,

just for a few days,

it might give you time to
gather some more evidence.

Perhaps something that
might prove crucial in court

then your part in all of this
would be�oh�

impossible to ignore.

Sinclaire is right.

What harm is another day or
two before I share my findings?

Well, you could be charged with

perverting the course
of justice.

That carries a sentence
of seven years in prison.

Although, for a first offense
with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises
a tariff of three years.

I've been practicing my reading
in your father's old law books.

Right, I see.

Anyway, I've given
William every opportunity

to work with me on this
investigation, but to no avail.

So, if I do decide to work
this case a little longer

this is technically his
own doing, isn't it?

I suspect he's made his
own developments anyway.

He was very eager to
leave after questioning

the owner
of the entertainment shop.

Well, two can play at that game.

For god's sake, don't
give him false information.

You could be charged
with perjury.

Although, that is only
triable on indictment.

Can you read Dickens or
Austen like a normal person?

I need this publicity, Ivy.

And I know I'm so
close to cracking the case.

For the last time,
I can get my own luncheon.

I know you, my girl.

You never eat proper
when you're working.

And if you want my advice
on Inspector Wellington�

- Which I don't.
- You watch what you say to him.

I don't intend to say
anything to him.

I intend to make it my business
to avoid him at all costs.

William.

Morning, ladies.

- Lovely surprise.
- Hmm.

I was just passing.

Ivy.

Inspector Wellington.

How's your cold?

Oh, it's better, thank you.

That was quick.

So�any developments
on the case?

Oh, nothing of note. You?

Nothing of note.

Well, I shall leave you ladies
to get on with your day.

- That was a swift visit.
- As I say, I was just passing.

Goodbye, Inspector Wellington.

Yeah.

Now I am certain of it.

He is hiding something from me.

She's hiding something from me.

Didn't you tell her
what you had found out?

No, nor will I with
Sinclaire as her client.

Sir, would you want me to
focus my full attention on this?

With Bow Street assisting
in the Cooper case

I'm sure I could be spared.

Bow Street?

What have they got to do
with Cooper?

Well, Phelps said they were
part of the investigation.

I saw him meet with
Detective Lenahan.

There is no Detective
Lenahan at Bow Street.

It's a, it's a true story,
lads, as god is my witness.

Get back to work.

Sir.

Not you, Detective Phelps.

What's up, Skipper?

When I said do not
talk to the press,

was I unclear in some way?

If so I can be clearer.

Come on, Duke, it's
just a bit on the side.

If it's not me, it'll be
one of the other lads.

No one's happy about this.

This happens again
and you are gone.

Is that understood?

Yes, Duke.

Good.

Milena,
I'm looking for Miss Ling,

do you know where she is?

Milena, is everything alright?

I don't know where
Miss Ling is.

I haven't seen her.

Are you moving in here?

Not my idea, my father's.

He always wanted
Alfonso's dressing room.

He couldn't even wait
until after the funeral.

I'm sorry, I know how
fond you were of him.

And yet you said
those awful things.

What things?

I told you Alfonso
was full of fun.

I never said that he was a heavy
drinker with gambling debts.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Did you like the part
about the lady detective

and her inner bloodhound?

Clearly I have no such thing

or I would have sniffed you
out as an untrustworthy crook.

I beg your pardon?

You have broken our
agreement and published details

that will interfere
with the investigation.

You've twisted
my words, Mr. Sinclaire.

As Chief Correspondent there
are certain responsibilities

on my shoulders.

It's been a dreadfully
slow week.

This is a catalogue of lies.

I never said the magician was
a gambler nor a heavy drinker.

My dear Miss Scarlet,

no one wants to read about
a dead man

who was kind and loved by all.

My readers devour scandal
and salacious gossip.

It makes them feel better
about their own lives.

Retract the article
and print an apology

or I will sever our agreement.

And yet you have a
man's name above your door

to lure in customers.

What? That's not
the same thing at all.

Forgive me,
is your name Henry Scarlet?

I can assure you one
day it will be my name

above the door.

Well, until that day
you might be wise

to make useful friends
rather than powerful enemies.

Are you threatening me?

I'm merely advising you.

At present you are unique
and intriguing,

there are stories to be
told and money to be made.

But who knows what novelties
tomorrow will bring?

People will only pay once
to see the bearded lady.

I do not need advice
from a washed up hack

who cannot get a job
on a real newspaper.

We are done, Sir.

Very well.

Although, rest assured,
this washed up hack

has ruined many a reputation.

I have brought down
judges, politicians

and even an archbishop.

A female detective
will not be a problem.

I'm sorry.

I should have shared my findings

rather than you having to
read them in the newspaper.

It would have been preferable.

And you were right
about Sinclaire,

I should have listened to you.

That would have been
preferable too.

How much longer are you
going to be angry for?

Why? Are you in a hurry?

Did you really call
Sinclaire a washed up hack?

Fine, you'd better tell
me what else you know.

Suspects?

Well, the other magician
couldn't wait to move

into Alfonso's dressing room.

There's definitely some
professional jealousy there.

And Alfonso's assistant,
Miss Ling,

seems to be having an affair
with the theater owner.

Perhaps he had some conflict
with the dead magician.

But you have no proof?

However, one thing
I am fairly certain about,

given Alfonso's wand
was in his safe

yet he didn't use during
his last performance,

nor did he turn up at
the entertainment shop

to sell his wand,

I believe an imposter
was on the stage that night.

Hmm.

Which is clearly isn't
news to you.

You suspected it too,
didn't you?

I knew you were hiding
something from me.

Which, of course,
you would never do.

I need your word
that you are definitely

not working with Sinclaire
anymore.

You have my word.

As we speak,
he'll be writing an article

designed to make me
unemployable.

Well, I did suspect an imposter

but I didn't know
about the other wand.

The other wand?

I found it on the magician
when I examined his body.

They're identical.

On the face of it, yes.

I noticed that the handle
wasn't quite aligned.

And inside�was this.

The magician's father, no doubt
The previous Alfonso.

Let's find out
if they are identical.

Two wands. Two boxes.

Nothing suggests where
this photo was taken.

Hand me that.

I know exactly where
it was taken.

Did Alfonso use a
duplicate box to disappear?

I would love to help you
but I simply cannot tell you

how the trick is done

or any trick, for that matter.

Us magicians,
we take a solemn oath.

That is a shame, Mr. Baggott,

since perverting
the course of justice

carries a seven year sentence.

Although, for a first offense
with mitigating circumstances,

the Home Office advises
a minimum of three.

Do I have that right,
Inspector Wellington?

Indeed, you do, Miss Scarlet.

Alfonso commissioned
a replica box

designed by my good self.

It's a bespoke service that
I offer to certain clients.

The original box had a hidden
compartment in the side.

But the replica went even
further in its trickery.

With the help of
some well-hidden latches

it actually had a false bottom

in which Alfonso
could not only hide in,

but lock without a soul knowing.

It's a work of art,
if I may say so myself.

Alfonso planned to use
the replica box

for his final performance?

He wanted to go out
in a blaze of glory.

Fifty years in the business.
I mean, that's quite something.

I may have designed the box

but I cannot take
the credit for making it.

His assistant must take
the credit for that.

Alfonso was so delighted
with what she'd done

that he asked me
to take a photograph

of the two boxes together.

He had a wand made for her

and he planned to put
the photograph inside

and give it to her after
his final performance.

It was his parting gift.

His assistant made the box?

So, Miss Ling must have been
aware of what he was doing?

I'm not talking about
Miss Ling.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the Baker Street Girls.

Now please,
put your hands together

as we welcome our headline act.

The incredible, the mysterious,

Slaven the Sorcerer.

Thank you, thank you.

Ma'am.

�amazed.

I'm gonna need you
to come with me.

What? I'm about to go on stage.

I'm afraid you're not.

You will not believe your eyes.

What's going on?

Anything?

I grew up with Alfonso.

He and my father were on
the same bill for years.

He had no children of his own
so he taught me everything

he knew about magic.

He was so kind
and patient with me.

Unlike my own father.

He doesn't believe a woman could

or should be anything
other than an assistant.

But Alfonso,

he said one day I could
be a wonderful magician.

So he let you help
him create a replica box

for his retirement show?

Not even his assistant
would know how he disappeared.

It would be his lasting legacy.

But, he was dreading retirement.

He started to drink more,

became increasingly melancholic.

Not that anyone but me knew.

He was very good
at putting on an act.

But knowing his time in the
theater was coming to an end

was destroying him.

Magic was his life.

What happened the day he died?

The night before,
he was feeling very down.

He told me there was no
point to his life anymore.

He always arrived an hour early
before he was due on the stage.

Always, without fail.

So the next day when he didn't,

I just knew he was
never coming back.

I feared the worst but
I didn't know for sure

until his body was pulled
from the Thames.

You believe it was suicide?

He'd talk about it
sometimes when he was drunk.

I never knew if he meant it.

And that's why you
impersonated him?

I couldn't bear him not
having the send-off he deserved.

I wanted him to go out
how he intended.

Performing the trick
of his life.

And no-one else knew?

Alfonso's act was
midway through the show

when I did
the disappearing trick.

Miss Ling couldn't
check the box thoroughly

as she was assisting
the next act too.

And as the stagehands
took the box

and the rest of the props
back to the storeroom,

I stayed hidden.

And then later you
swapped the replica box

with the original.

I gutted it, turned it
into a chest for my father.

Alfonso was the only
person who believed in me.

And now he's gone.

Sir.

I spoke to the coroner.

He thinks that the head injuries

are consistent with
a post-mortem blow.

Perhaps a boat or
the side of a bridge

when the dead man
was in the water, so�

�it does look like suicide.

So, what happens now?
Will Milena be charged?

Well, I can't deny that
we would have got to suicide

much quicker had she not
posed as the dead man.

So, she could be charged with

perverting
the course of justice.

But that is at your discretion?

It is. I can't see who
it would benefit.

She seems a determined
young woman.

I have no doubt that she will
get where she wants to be.

I just�
I hope it doesn't consume her.

There's more to life than work.

Just look at our
magician friend.

There's a valuable lesson there.

Don't be too hard
on yourself, William.

Life isn't all about work.

I wasn't talking about me.

It was you, weren't it?

You grassed me up to Duke.

It wasn't my intention,
it just slipped out,

it was a mistake.

The files you requested, Sir.

Right, I'm off for the night.

I'll see you in the morning.

Stop right there, Detective.

I will not
discuss who did this, Sir.

Well, in that case
I have one question for you.

How do we stop this
from happening again?

There you go, son.

Good man.

See ya next time.

What you want now?

I'm no snitch.

I don't want you to snitch.
I want you to teach.

Show him how to box.

Detective Fitzroy,

er, please feel free to
call me Oliver, Mr. Moses.

It's just Moses.

Here!

Mr. Potts.

Miss Scarlet.

It's nice to see you again.

Yes, the last time we met I
was sitting in a police cell

if memory serves.

I did apologise.
Numerous times.

There are occasions when a
simple apology will suffice.

This was not one of them.

Today's edition.

Sinclaire?

How bad is it?
What does he say about me?

Absolutely nothing.

It's all about
Inspector Wellington.

It says all kinds of
nice things about him.

How determined,
tenacious, talented he is.

But nothing at all about you.

Ha!

Morning James,
how's the little one?

Good, Sir.

Ah, good morning.

I take it you have seen
today's Illustrated Police News?

Not yet, no.

Well, to say
Mr. Sinclaire sings your praises

would be an understatement.

I, on the other hand,
am not mentioned at all.

- Hmm.
- Thank you, William.

I assume this was your doing?

You warned him off?

I lifted the ban between
my men and the press

and that was enough
to satisfy Sinclaire.

To be honest, I would have
had to do it sooner or later

or I'd have a revolt
on my hands. Excuse me.

Well, I'm still sorry for
any trouble I may have caused

by working with him.

In my determination to succeed

I may not have
thought things through.

- I know I can be a tad�
- Impatient?

You may call it impatience,
I call it eagerness.

Well, whatever its name,

it is the cause of
many of my headaches.

You are a good friend indeed.

Which is why dinner
is on me tonight.

I wasn't aware
that we were going out.

Well, now you are. Life can't
all be about work, you know.