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Do you know a man named Ratovski?

- He is dead.
- How is he dead?

By my hand, so it is said.

There's a belief in the community

- that it's being haunted by a monster.
- Golem.

You should save your
shock and awe for this.

Those are bite marks, Reid.

Flesh torn out with teeth.

I could no more kill Leon
Ratovski than I could kill myself.

Do you travel somewhere, Miss Castello?

Paris, a story hunted down.

Thomas Gower? This still does not
make Thomas Gower Tanner's killer.

No, it does not. But it behoves
us to ask of him certain questions.

Yaaagh!

Ugh.

What trouble brings you
here, young Mr. Dove?

I've a worry which roots
itself in these parts.

- Mr. Theakston?
- Yes, Miss S.?

Will you take Connor for a few moments?

Course, Miss S.

It is you who gains access to
the Customs House, is it not?

Might you show me?

But there, beyond the
barricade, treasure.

Look, the golem.

What's that?

Sync & corrections by PetaG
www.addic7ed.com

_

Excuse me.

Ahh! Police!

Stop! There's someone there.

What?

- No!
- Yes! He's...

he's covered in blood. He's dead.

I do not say you did not see it.

I only say that what
you saw, it was not real.

It... it cannot be real.

It was as real as you
are now, Bennet Drake.

I don't know how many
times I need to say this.

The woman is dead. I saw it myself.

Her ankles are twitched, dead.

Then how?

How, Bennet?

I am not mad!

I am not that. I saw her.

It is because you cannot rest.

- You are sleepless.
- No.

Rose, any woman would suffer so.

Their senses adrift,
frayed through lack of rest.

You must rest, Rose. Please.

Uncle Bennet,

perhaps this is not,
after all, the best time.

No, child, this... this is good.
We are... we are glad you've come.

Please, sit.

It is Mathilda, my love,

as we said, come to
watch the lad a while,

give him some lunch and his tea, and...

allow you some sleep.

Allow those frayed senses
of yours to knit again.

Only sleep, my love.

All will be right again.

And do not forget, Miss
Susan was your dear friend.

And in your heart, you
must yet mourn for her.

No, Bennet,

she is no friend of mine.

That bitch means to steal our child.

Finished. Do you understand?

Only for real this time.

Our boy never clapping eyes
on us as long as he lives,

unless it's a newspaper photograph,

the pair of us with
ropes around our necks.

What was I supposed to do, Matthew?

He called to me, my
son. He called to me.

Ought I to just have
abandoned him once more?

You want to know what he's going
to look like when he's a grown man?

Teach him to ride? Watch him
fall in love for the first time?

You want to know those
things to pass? Then yeah,

you God damn ought to
have left them there

- to wail for you.
- Oh, you're a man.

- You don't understand.
- Oh, that's a fine apology.

Oh, I must apologise
now, must I? To you?

Who I would otherwise consider
the bane of my life, if banes

- weren't altogether more bearable!
- No, no, no. You are not

going to deflect this on me.

It's I that must go to my place
of work... a police station...

and pray to God that my
chief's wife is not believed

when she says she saw a
dead woman walk by her window

- last night.
- Oh, she won't be.

She was... she was barely
awake. She was sleepwalking.

And besides, as you say, I am dead.

Whoever would believer her? Hm?

Well, we're soon going
to find out, won't we?

Need my laboratory, don't I?

Potassium nitrate,

make this the lock-cracker for
your little escapade tonight.

It mustn't happen tonight, must it?

It must.

You think you could sway Silver
Beard to that way of thinking?

You leave Abel to me.

If I'm not back by 10:00 tonight,
you just assume I'm taken.

Make all further
arrangements without me.

Only you make them fast. Do you hear me?

And you get yourself gone.

Bane of your life, huh?

Oi, oi! Can I get a hand over here?

In recognition

of his outstanding achievement
in the reorganisation

of the Metropolitan Police
Detective Department,

Her Majesty the Queen,

last night, bestowed the
Companion of the Order of the Bath

to Assistant Commissioner Augustus Dove.

This ceremony took place at Tornby Hall,

where no less a personage
than Joseph Chamberlain,

the Colonial Secretary,
conferred the honour.

Oh, hold up, Drum.
It's the father-in-law.

- Morning, Mr. Reid.
- Drummond. Thatcher.

Morning, Mr. Reid.

Hey, sir, did you see?

Assistant Commissioner Dove
got a bauble for his coat.

Do you disrespect this country's
heraldic traditions, Sergeant?

Not me, Mr. Reid.

Still, it's a wonder, is it not, where
a common fellow may rise to these days?

Oh, you work hard, Thatcher,
who knows how far you may travel.

Oh, I do not speak of myself, sir, no.

Happy as he is, that's Frankie Thatcher.

No, it's Drum here that I ask for.

Indeed, and why might Sergeant Drummond

thank you for inquiring
after his prospects?

Oh, he's my friend is all.

And I know how he means to be... uh...
to be well thought of in this world.

Frank, enough.

Oh, he is well thought of, Mr.
Thatcher. I can vouch for that.

Leman Street.

Body found of the back of Heneage.

Mr. Reid, wait if you please!

Men come. Rope the area
off as good as you can.

The body, it is a dead
man, one known to us, sir.

And who that, Mr. Drummond?

Right, left...

Drake.

Jackson.

Quiet night?

Quiet enough.

So the boy, he's settling on then?

He does.

Mr. Drake, a man's body is
found, murdered, so it's said.

Who is it to attends?

I feel we must.

Who is it, Mr. Reid?

- Captain, yourself also.
- Tell me who it is, Inspector!

I am sorry, Bennet.

Get out of the way. Move it!

You men, I want these
ghouls 10 yards further back.

Oh, Thomas,

a street-fight.

Knife wound.

Gave as good as you got,
did you not, Thomas boy?

Could have been over 200 pairs of
boots up and down here since sun-up.

Any signs that may have been read

would have been trod and
kicked into obscurity.

He wasn't killed here, however.

See his knees, grooves and
abrasions. And his hands likewise.

It's gravel rash.

He was... he was dragged.

Dragged himself.

Woodseer Orphanage is
three streets north of here.

How?

There is this violent altercation.

The assailant takes the knife
to finish the matter, leaves him.

So he crawls to where
he might feel safe.

You let me through. Let me through.

Let me through!

Let me see him!

- Oh!
- Deborah...

Oh, who has done this to him?

- Miss Goren, let us do our work.
- No!

- Deborah...
- And what use

is that work, Edmund
Reid? What use to us all?

Please, please, let me walk you
home. You cannot help him now.

Sergeant Drake, as you once
were, think of this boy.

Think of all you have done for him!

Come, come.

Thatcher, remove this
hacker and her work.

There's no law says you
may take that, Sergeant.

Oh, is there not? Aw.

Get you gone, woman.

- Go!
- Ugh!

The wound... how long for
him to bleed out, do we say?

10 minutes, certainly no longer.

And so injured,

he could not have dragged
himself at no more than what?

10 yards a minute, maybe.

Miss Goren's orphanage, north of here.

He must therefore come
from the other direction.

- Thatcher...
- Yeah?

I want a radius, 150
yards, all points south.

Such a ruck...

it would not took a place
on a main thoroughfare.

We look for dark corners,
therefore, laneway dens,

evil rookery yards. Get these men to it!

All right, boys, I need
you to split three ways.

Fan out, south and south-west.

Ask yourself... any sign of
a ruck... we need to search.

Some will say this is what killed him,

this from which the ruin
of his life was made.

This is the response, not the question.

Edmund Reid, who sees life and
it's puzzles clearer than you?

I have no idea what life would
look like were it not a puzzle.

Were it not, I firmly believe the
two of us would never have met.

No.

Well, here is another puzzle for you.

Why is it, do you suppose, in the...

in the 2½ months since Isaac was hanged,

you have not sat down to
take a drink with me once?

Why do you think?

I felt shame.

Because you could not save Isaac?

I wasn't going to show you these, but...

These are drawings made
of this Whitechapel golem

in the weeks before the
Rabbi Ratovski was murdered.

No, they are the drawings
made in the past month.

And what do you make
of that fact, Deborah?

If they draw him still, perhaps
he lives still and did not die

when Isaac Bloom was hanged.

Might I borrow these?

Edmund, there... there is a matter... I
feel it is, perhaps, disloyal to say it.

But... but your daughter Mathilda...

What of her?

Her friendship with Miss Castello...

Rachel is a good person. This I know.

But she is young and angered.

She feels...

you police hide the truth of what is
acted out on the people of her faith.

- She is Jewish?
- Raised as an English woman.

However, she discovers
her heritage with a zeal,

a zeal for truth,

and that truth to be
discovered however it may,

if you see my meaning.

I do not know if it is disloyal.

But I know that I am grateful
to you, the sharing of it.

Whoa, hey. Hey!

What happened?

Blimey, what are they lookin' for?

Here, you be Gower.

Might be something.

You are a newspaper woman.

It is your job to inveigle, to
connive, to seduce. But this is low.

She's a child.

- She's my child.
- She is not that, Mr. Reid.

I don't not know here well. But
what I do know of her, I admire.

And she's no child, sir.

And you think to turn
her to what? My betrayal?

No, sir, never that.

I seek only that which
you seek also, Mr. Reid,

that which I find endlessly
injuncted from me, the truth.

Wait. What is that?

Is this the murdered man Ratovski?

What is this? What is this mapping?

What is it you make here?

A history...

of the frozen and famished
journeys made by those of my faith,

that they might find
shelter in Whitechapel.

Ratovski's journey amongst?

Ratovski? What of him? Show me. Show me!

No, sir, I will not.

Bring a warrant if you must press it.

A warrant.

Or what details of the man and
his end which you yourself keep

hidden from view in
the H-Division archives.

I believe there is an expression
for the exchange, quid pro quo.

See this?

It's piercing of the spleen,
unstoppable internal bleeding.

That was the finishing, but
not the finishing he sought.

You don't mean it.

All right, look at Gower's
pockets. There's money within.

Therefore, it's not a theft.

It is personal?

His first point of attack from behind.

Pinned against the wall.
He wished to knife him,

he would have done it there and then.

It is an easy thing to say, I know,

but it is not you did this.

It is not you put that knife in him.

Nor you yourself, Mr. Reid.

Oh God, no.

- No, no, no, no!
- What?

Hey, Drummond, I need you
to dig up a file for me.

Last name, Ratovski.

What is it you do?

- Tell me!
- What do you think?

This is a human bite mark.

What?

What do you mean, gone?

Sergeant Drummond, beneath my desk,
calfskin briefcase. It is within.

- Why is it you've kept it, Inspector?
- The case remains of interest.

- Despite my instructions otherwise?
- What would you have me do, Bennet?

- Avert my eyes?
- Exactly that, Mr. Reid.

We had precise words on
that matter, did we not?

And I was clear as to what such
disobedience might then incur.

Get out, Drummond.

Yes, Mr. Drake.

They are not alike, Jackson. Not close!

That's because those were
taken from the lower abdomen.

It's fleshier there,
there's more to take.

In both these examples,
the mandibular lower incisor

is overlapped by the
maxillary central incisor.

And now, the exact measurement
on each of them is a notch...

and I mean a notch... under 250 thou.

An overbite.

A slight overbite.

You throw a rock into
Commercial Street at lunchtime,

and you will strike a man with the same.

Further more, the method of attack on
this here is... it's entirely at odds.

This is... this is a
street brawl, a knifing!

Drake!

Now, whatever this means to you,
it means the exact same to me.

I made this case too.

Now, how many examples of
pre and post-mortem biting

have we had in the eight years
since I've served you here?

No.

Save this Ratovski,
and now your boy Gower.

They see him still,

who they used to call
the Whitechapel golem.

These were drawn recently at
the orphanage in Woodseer Street.

- Bennet...
- No.

No.

This man's killer has
been hanged for his crime.

And these... children's
scrawlings and overbite...

they are not evidence fit for
the overturning of that sentence.

Now, I warned you, Mr. Reid.

So you give me reason why I
ought not to send you away?

This here now, I do not pursue it

in some attempt to make the world wrong

or to disprove your
work, his work, our work.

I do it because I see the need for it.

And yes, my return to Whitechapel was
indeed to make some defence of Isaac.

But that I stayed it is you, Bennet
Drake, you my friend, who I missed.

And who, now, I wish
nothing other than to help.

And how is it you now help me?

I want what you want. I want to
know who it was killed this boy.

I want to see the investigation
I make bring you to him.

I want to give Thomas Gower his justice,

to use his awful death
to make comparison.

Despite all that you say,
there are similarities

with Ratovski's murder
that must at least

be discarded before any
investigation could move forward.

So you show me the case you
made against Bloom, Bennet.

Show me, every step of the way.

And then, either, you
will prove me wrong.

In which case, you may
indeed send me away.

Or we... you and I...
shall then together

bring this killer to earth.

Well, he has me sold.

May I fetch you something, Mrs. Drake?

Fetch me my boy.

Hm.

Hm.

Come.

Why are you here?

My Uncle Bennett, your
husband, asked it of me,

so you might rest, Mrs. Drake.

No, girl, why are you in Whitechapel?

And don't talk your riddles
with me and tell me you

are here because your
father, Mr. Reid, is here.

You tell me why the pair of you
would return to this place at all.

It is our home.

Home?

A place where he knew
nothing but blood and despair?

Where you were kept
prisoner by all them people?

Your mother gone... dead
and mad for the loss of you?

That's home, is it?

Home chooses us, I believe,
and not the reverse.

Tell me, will you marry
a copper also, Mathilda?

I would say I'm too young
for marriage, Mrs. Drake.

Too young?

Shall I tell you all I had
lived by 19 years of age?

I should be interested
to know, Mrs. Drake.

But I am quite aware of
the needs and necessities

which drive those of our
sex to the life you led

before the music halls welcomed you.

Are you though, Miss Reid?

I do not think you are quite aware

of what it is to have six men a night

heave themselves into you
for the profit of another.

And you and I both know whose
profit that was, do we not?

You know who the mother i...

Not mother.

I am that. I am.

You know who the maker
of Connor here is?

It is Miss Susan.

It is Miss Susan.

It is her.

She who might poison
the well of all London

and find those who still
love and forgive her.

Yourself, Mathilda,

I'm sure you would be delighted

to see her once more and pass
an hour or two in chat with her.

It is true, I would.
But Miss Susan is dead.

Hm.

Miss Susan is dead.

Long Susan Hart is dead.

The whole world thought you
were dead and gone, Mathilda.

And yet, there you stand.

Connor, Connor, your mama is sorry.

♪ In the pines, in the pines ♪

♪ Where the sun don't ever shine. ♪

Mathilda, he likes a pinch
of cinnamon in his milk.

And we're now run dry of it.

Will you take a penny from my
purse there and fetch him some?

Of course, Mrs. Drake.

When I was a girl and I wanted
my way, I would wheedle and whine,

offer eternal devotion for a desire met,

owe a thing for one denied.

And you are now changed how?

I do not whine.

Small mercies.

And a man as accustomed
to lying as you are

would see clean through me as
soon as I made as if I hated you.

Oh, but you have charm, my girl.

And if we are to do this
thing, let us do it tonight.

It is intemperate.

It is bold.

See you, Lady Macbeth.

Thieve in haste, repent at leisure.

Gather your Japanese
porcelain while you may.

If it must indeed come
to pass that you leave us,

I would see you steam away
from me on still waters.

And this... plans must be
made, observations took.

They are made.

They are took, by myself.

Because, Abel, the snare closes.

Closes? How? I'll keep you safe here.

It's only that I feel it.

I feel it on me sharp.

No.

You are all together too
tough-minded for such suspicions.

You tell me, girl... you
tell me how that snare looks?

I have been seen.

Oh!

Does she say, thank you,
Matthew, for saving my life?

Well done?

Nope.

Take me to see my boy.

Now, I told you that was a bad idea.

And did you listen?

No.

And whose problem is it now?

That's right, Old Jackson.

And I'm the one that
goes off half-cocked.

I'm the one that doesn't
think things through.

Shit! Idiot!

This how she did it then?

What did she promise you,
Guard Theakston, money?

For delivery to that pit?

A kind word?

Her snake tongue in your ear?

Who is it you speak of?

I don't even know who you are.

Oh, do you not?

What about the boy then?

Remember him?

That's Miss Susan's boy.

And you would let him believe
she is dead when she is not.

How did she climb down
from that scaffold, eh?

How did she do that?

Think I will not see you corrected
for this if you do not tell?

My husband, this boy's new father,

he is the police headman at Whitechapel.

And he will see you
swing, just as surely as he

will her when he catches her.

How did she do it?

Where is she hid, eh?

Who hides her?

I see you, your fear.

You tell me.

You're mad, woman.

- You're all the same.
- Ugh.

Come on, Connor.

This is where we found Ratovski,

here.

Boy found him, raised a uniform.

You were able to keep the scene intact?

It was chaos by the time I got
here, packed tight, screaming.

Folk could see what
had been done to him.

Head caved in, shirt
ripped from him, and...

those bites taken out of his body.

Word would've got about, I imagine,

chimed most likely with the... uh...

the talk that had grown up
of this Whitechapel golem.

Although, there is no golem myth
in which it is said to have torn

- men's flesh from their bodies.
- Whatever the myth of it, Mr. Reid,

we saw that any confirmation of
that fact be withheld from the press.

And why that?

I was worried at what those with

a fear of our Jewish
neighbours might accuse them of.

- I felt it a wise policy.
- And one that you continued once

- Isaac Bloom was...
- Once he, a Jewish man,

was sentenced for it, yes.

So then, you removed the body?

We did.

Identification?

The man's university
accreditation was found about him.

You'd wired his place of work?

He'd taken a week's leave,
not told a soul for why.

And then, door-to-door?

The synagogue on Princelet Street.

Max Steiner.

Ratovski paid his respects,
made a few prayers,

and offered nothing of
his purpose, and left.

Then, we go to Bloom's lodgings next.

An old lock-seller, a lady,

said she saw Ratovski arrive at
Blooms around 6:00 of the evening.

Saw him leave an hour later.

His body found...

The next morning.

But killed, according to
Jackson, 11:00 of the night.

Then you interviewed Bloom. You
found him disturbed, I imagine.

More bewildered at the first.

He could not recall Ratovski's
visit nor even that the man existed.

And you did not search his room then?

I had no call to.

It was not as though I did not
remember the man fondly, Mr. Reid.

I felt sad for him, not suspicious.

So it was not until you had Rabbi
Steiner's account of him being attacked

- by Bloom that you returned.
- Another violent attack

on a religious man.

Compelling indicator that
warranted further pursuit.

A search warrant was requested.

We returned to Bloom's lodgings
here, conducted our search,

found that plug of flesh, that shirt.

[Yelling in Hebrew]

- [Yelling in Hebrew]
- Calm yourself, sir, I beg you.

- Calm yourself.
- Police!

We mean you no harm.

Our apologies.

We will leave you.

Briggs, here, take a shift.

Tell me, what is it?

Is my Uncle Bennet here? My father?

Neither, Tilda. What is it that
worries you? What do you say?

I think I must not, Drum.
Might I wait, however?

Do I wait, then, for you to show me
what it is I have neglected to see?

No, 'tis copper fastened, Bennet.

I would have come to the same
conclusions. I do not contest that.

Perhaps, I worry it is, ah, too
much of an irreproachable case.

We here cannot win but
for one fault or another.

But do you not agree?

In his bewilderment, you
have found a perfect suspect?

In that search, the
unimprovable evidence?

Does such ease... given
what we've seen today...

not raised the slightest
shiver of suspicion for you?

And is that not you all over, Mr. Reid?

Your fevered eyes once more
burning through the deceit

of the world, in the hope
that you might, at last,

uncover its black mechanics.

And there, perhaps, is the
difference between you and I.

I chose this work because I
believe... in my dull simplicity...

that the inequities of
this life might be checked.

But you... well, I've come to
believe that you choose them

in the hope that they may never cease.

For what then, Edmund Reid?

What then for that
restless soul of yours?

See the wound to his
side? The bite marks?

All the signs of the golem. You see?

Don't you see what has been
done to him, sir? To his flesh?

Sir, Inspector Drake.
Sir! Inspector Drake!

Will you not tell me what
our eyes now see here?

What has been done to this man?

Or will you hide the
facts of this case too?

- Come on, come on.
- No!

No.

I wonder if you understand,

if you could imagine even what it is

so many in our community
have suffered to...

- If you will, please...
- I will not, Inspector Drake!

They do not walk, starving,
through the frozen steps of Europe

to arrive here to be so savaged

just when they imagine they...
have some salvation near at hand.

You are charged with the
peoples protection, sir.

And you have failed in that mandate!

And you, Mr. Reid, how
will you remedy this?

I will ask you of this man.

Will you tell me his name?

His name is Nagleman.

More than that, I can't tell you.

He recently came here from Lithuania,

as you can see, emaciated
from his deprivations.

But we cared for him.

We gave him a room
beneath the synagogue.

- And that is where you found him, sir?
- It was.

Mr. Thatcher, you will escort Rabbi
Steiner back to Princelet Street.

Take men. And you will work the
room as you have been taught.

Rabbi Steiner, we will see these streets
now scoured for the cause of this.

You have my word. We will
not rest till it is done.

Bennet... Bennet!

What?! What?

Do you try to tell me
the old man is wrong?

Do you?

That this is not at my door?
This Nagleman? Thomas Gower.

- Isaac Bloom, innocent and hanged.
- You are not their killer.

You are not.

This is a battle worth
of blood, remember?

This is not a battle. This is defeat.

Oh, so the abyss will
swallow Bennet Drake, will it?

It swallowed you once, if you remember.

Our Gower was a soldier with the
strength to resist this... uh...

fetish with the body. But this
man... no, you can see how weak he is.

Advanced malnutrition,
severe muscle waste.

There's necrosis of the fat cells.

You can approximate a time of death?

Are you asking if it was
about the same time as Gower's?

Yeah, I'd say it was approximate, Reid.

30th, September, 1888.

- The double event.
- Mm.

Catherine Eddowes' body found
three quarters of an hour

after that of Elizabeth Stride.

Whether he was interrupted or
she did not serve his needs,

the Ripper was unable to do
what he wished with Miss Stride.

And so, glutted himself on Miss Eddowes.

But here, our killer here...

he finds himself face-to-face with
Thomas's strength and resistance.

It takes a knife to end that resistance.

Then, he flees from the
rumpus he has no doubt made,

makes his way towards the refugee
lodgings in Princelet Street...

Finds a man too broken to fight,
let's his desires grow fierce.

Now, come see. Take a look here.

These are parallel tracks where the
upper incisors scraped down the skin.

And these are static puncture
marks where he then gouges

down onto the lower teeth.

And then, the flesh is torn and sheared.

So it's almost as if he's
shaking them with his teeth.

So this biting... it presents itself

less as cannibalism and more
of a... a means of attack.

- It's like an animal.
- Like a dog attacks?

Like a dog. It's alike.

And this is the animal hair that
I took from where Gower was found.

From the scale pattern of the
cuticle and the medulla type,

it's from an animal that
is very much like a dog.

It's a timber wolf.

Now, this town is crazy, I grant
you. But the last time I checked,

there were no wolves in Whitechapel.

Yes?

Yes, that's understood.

Assistant Commissioner Dove is here.

The error of it, sir.

The sheer bloody muck of the mistake.

Not for the minding of, Inspector,

not now. Not yet.

I know you, the man you
are, the policeman you are.

Compassion and rigour
you brought to that case,

as to every other
part of your work here.

You could never be questioned.

It must be brought once more, Mr. Drake.

This killer must be trapped.

I know you understand this, sir.

You shall have all the
resources you require.

Thank you, sir.

And I expect updates on the hour.

- You shall have them, Mr. Dove.
- Mr. Reid.

You find this savage beast, Inspector.

I will, sir.

Good evening, Mrs. Drake.

Hello to you, young man.

I'm sure Mr. Dove is
pleased to see you, as I am.

But it is late for the
lad to be out and about.

Rose, he is freezing.

Never mind, Connor. Better you mind me.

Not Now, woman. Not here.

- Mr. Drake, I should...
- No, Augustus, you will here this.

- Rose...
- I have no secrets.

And best you know how it is a
murderess escaped her sentence.

I know how she did it. I know.

- I have discovered it.
- Rose, I have told you,

- this is a madness.
- It is not, Bennett!

See, I went to Newgate,
to the pit there.

And there is a guard,
name of Theakston Hull.

How he used to make eyes at Long Susan.

Mrs. this, Mrs. that...

he'd have cleaned her ass with
his tongue had she asked for it.

- Rose, enough!
- No, I stopped him.

And I asked him.

I said, how'd she done it? Tell
us. Tell us where she hides.

And you should have seen it.
White as the beard of God.

And I knew it. I knew it then.

She must have been put in
that Newgate pit still alive

and some accomplice to
come and collect her.

- You cannot think...
- You think I'm not able?

Just remember all that she has done.

55 man, woman, child... and
not a soul in this square mile

whose live's not changed by her,

by Long Susan Hart.

And she is about her evil once more.

- You will stop this now!
- Oh, just

try and make me, Bennet Drake!

Say you love me, do
you? Well, you cannot.

Because you do not trust me.

I, who have trusted you
and had faith in you,

when I know the black
things you have done.

- You will be silent.
- I will not!

Reid, Susan, the captain, all
of you, the things you have done.

And I have kept that secret
like a poison in my heart.

- Rose!
- Enough!

You two stop this right now.

Have a care.

Let me take him home then.

We must take him home now, love.

Come on.

Let us go home.

Did you hear her accusations?

I couldn't fail to, could I, Frank?

- And so, what do you say?
- I say they are best unheard.

I'll tell you what, Miss Reid,
he's a lickspittle, this one.

And you, Frank Thatcher, have an
old woman's snatch box for gossip.

If you do not mind, Mathilda, I should
like a word with Sergeant Drummond.

Yes, sir. Here, sir?

No, Public House, I think.

Thatcher, you may stand
at dock until he returns.

You might be a little warier
with my daughter, however.

After you, Drummond.

It's still too God damn wet.

Have to serve.

You should know, Mr.
Reid, that your Mathilda...

uh, I mean to say, if it please
you, t-that y-you ought not

to be afraid of any impropriety
or... or ugly motive on my part.

I seek only to... if
such were permitted,

both by yourself a-and
herself, of course...

I... I seek only to be allowed to
come to know her a little better

- and...
- Drummond...

Yes, Mr. Reid?

Six months back, when
Captain Jackson removed

the bloody imprint of
Isaac Bloom's fingerprints

from the shirt placard of
the murdered Rabbi Ratovski

and Inspector Drake wished them
then to be used as evidence...

- you recall all this?
- I do.

And the warrant was then secured
for the search of Mr. Bloom's rooms.

Yes, sir.

And when it was felt that
the full and awful details

of the crime should not be
broadcast abroad for fear

of panic and so the newspapers
were injuncted, all this you recall?

Well, who could forget, Mr. Reid?

Then, tell me, whose authority
was it saw all these commands made?

Why, Mr. Dove, sir.

Good evening, Augustus.

You have heard the rumpus out there?

I have not, forgive me.

This has been a day.

Well, it must've been, for
the whole world cries of it.

Of what?

Not the once, but twicer.

He has performed his act once more.

Ah, the last occasion he confessed to
both of us what he'd done to that rabbi.

Oh, I remember, Abel.
What a run-around that was.

You were meant to care for him.

And I do. I do!

This cannot happen
again. He must be watched.

Ah, I know. I know.

And further to that, Abel,
the woman you shelter,

I now know who she is.

Why would you not tell me?

She is almost a
celebrity in these parts.

And you have kept her these two months.

I have grown fond of her, wish her well.

Your murderous conniving
mind, by your kind heart,

it will be the finishing of ya.

Hm, I do not think it is the end

of myself which currently exercises

you, Assistant Commissioner.

You and that bauble so
recently pinned to your breast.

And besides, they owe me money.

- She and her American husband?
- Oh, yeah.

How did he do it?

How did he fake her
death, Abel? Free her?

Oh, damned if I know.
But he is a sharp one.

Plus, there are plans afoot, which
will see the pair of them gone.

- Plans?
- Hm.

There is currently some
merit in H-Division's finest

surgeon being gone from it.

You set about your plan, Abel.

I shall set about seeing how
else the trail that leads to us

may be broke and scattered.

How that, Augustus? How
broke? How scattered?

Never mind that for now. You get home.

And you keep that beast
close to you, you understand?

Matthew, I was afraid.

Me and you both, Darling.

I tell ya, this town, the things
that I've seen within it today...

me and you've got to
get this thing finished

and ourselves done with
this place for all time.

Where is the sea-dog?

He's called away.

And the retarded first-mate?

Sleeping beyond.

I know there's wisdom in
sleeping on it for night work.

But it's time to rise
and get about it now, son.

Well, my children, the
night is a dark one.

Clouds roll over.

Such auguries must not be ignored.

Let us eat before we thieve.

Move across.

I sit there.

Go, Nate. Move along.

Who are we to separate husband and wife?

Ah, while you're up, get them
kerosene lamps and wipe them down.

There is food aplenty, Captain.

No call for you to be filching others.

Sleep.

Forget about this world awhile.

Were there naught to be
done, I would stay, Rose.

But... uh... tonight there is
an evil out there, which I...

I cannot hide at home, my love.

And for all of it may not be
worth a heap of shit no more....

I must go to work.

Bennet...

Yes, my love?

Do what you like.

As we have agreed, your building

of the case... the evidence
which convicted Mr. Bloom,

it was flawless.

But we know that Isaac Bloom cannot
have killed Ratovski, because...

- The killer still walks amongst us.
- Yes.

Now, we must needs look
elsewhere for the flaw, Bennet.

And so, I only ask you
to think on who else

might have had both the
knowledge and the opportunity.

What?

My division has known care and
advancement beneath his eye.

He has been the voice and encouragement

we who must police this
quarter have always called for.

He has understood my life here,
Mr. Reid. He has been my friend.

And it is he who gets you your warrant.

He who, therefore, knows the address
at which to leave the evidence,

evidence that he knew Captain Jackson
would clasp tight to his heart.

And it is he who then says,
yes! Use your fingerprints.

And yes! I will bar all newspaper
reportings of the details.

Only he, Bennet.

Only Augustus Dove.

You ask me to admit his corruption.

I must therefore admit my own.

I see that. I see that, Bennet, I do.

But what purchase that support
and advancement has given him here.

- My purchase, you mean?
- No...

- My seduction?! No, Mr. Reid!
- No, I do not mean to say...

Now, I may now need you here
for this fight which comes down.

But you leave of
Augustus Dove. You hear?

Rose... Rose, it is only me.

Rose, forgive me.

Will you let me in?

Would you not come to
curse me for my madness?

Why would I? I know you're sane.

Do you believe me?

I do, Rose.

Oh!

Why, that is a wonderful thing!

Thank you. Augustus, thank you.

Will you keep watch over us?

If Mr. Drake is not here
to do so, then I shall.

The thought of you doing so,
currently makes me happier.

However...

There was another fear
that you spoke of earlier,

on the subject of Miss Hart.

But also, Mr. Reid.

An act in which you believe
them to have collaborated.

A bad thing.

A bad thing.

Not only those two, the captain also.

And Bennet.

What was it, Rose?

I made a promise.

I swore it, never ever to tell.

Then you must not, Rose.

Never break a promise.

You sent for me?

Quid pro quo.

Here we are.

Nate, in you go.

After you, Madam, Captain.

Here.

Hush now, children.

Captain...

Only the lock, correct? Correct?

Yes, correct.

Matthew, wait.

Too much spice in your stew, Captain.

Nat...

No, no. Abel, I will not
have more blood on my tally.

Not yours, my girl, mine.
Mine can manage the extra.

You step aside. Get your crockery.

Up here!

- Where?
- Here!

Hey, ugh!

Ah, ah! Ah!

- For this?
- Here.

Anything else you wish
to pilfer? Or do we sail?

Sync & corrections by PetaG
www.addic7ed.com