Original subtitles

(knocking)

Get out here, you weasel!

Easy, Thommo, mate.

That's enough damage

for one night.

I've got all the dirt on you,

Chambers.

Give it a rest, would you?

He's gone.

Happy now?

Gutless, conniving bastard.

You didn't

have to take a swing at him.

Come on, mate.

It's your shout.

Well, that's it, I'm skint now.

Stony broke. Thanks to you.

Oh, dry up, will you?

Here's your ruddy pound back.

You'll get yours next pay.

Now get off my back.

- Pack it in, you two!

- Bloody hell.

(engine starts)

You've got a cheek doing that,

that's for sure.

(tires screech)

- Thommo!

- Hey! Hey!

Hey, you alright?

Thommo!

- Thommo!

- It's alright.

What can you tell us

about the vehicle?

Not much.

The lamps were shining

full in my face.

Something big and flash.

Did you see

the registration number?

So the three of you stopped

here before for a drink?

Yeah? So?

JACK: What about Thommo?

A few beers?

More than that?

Shouldn't you be out there

finding whoever it was did this?

Tell us again

exactly what happened

just before the accident.

That wasn't no accident.

We heard Mr Birmingham

and Mr Cliff

were having a disagreement.

Heard? From who?

From Cliff.

They had a few words,

that's all.

Just words?

There might

have been a bit of shoving.

Which left Mr Birmingham

in the path

of an oncoming vehicle.

You reckon

Ronnie did this on purpose?

That car came straight at us!

(bell)

Ah! Ma petite Phryne.

Veronique Sarcelle?

- Have I changed that much?

- Of course not.

Mr Butler, café au lait,

s'il vous plait.

BUTLER: Certainement.

What brings you

all the way to Melbourne?

To surprise you, ma chérie,

what else?

- Can I take your scarf?

- No, no, I'm fine.

What a surprise.

After all these years!

Oh, I wanted to see

this part of the world.

Pierre always talked

of making the journey.

He wanted to paint

in this light.

Which I am

still not accustomed to.

- How long has it been?

- Nine years, at least.

Good times, oui?

Interesting times.

Ah.

Surely you still have

some of his paintings?

I had to sell them all.

It broke my heart

but, oh, the bills.

You had to survive somehow.

It was never easy, even before.

But how happy we were.

You remember?

I remember the singing

and the dancing

and all those mad, bad parties.

(laughs) The war was over.

Paris was free.

We were intoxicated with life.

And Sarcelle,

he was inspired to paint.

He was like a demon,

day and night.

And now it is lost.

At least I know this one

has a safe home.

Do you remember

sitting for this?

(laughs) I remember

too much wine for lunch.

"Don't move," Pierre kept

saying. "I'm not moving!

BOTH: "It's the room!"

Pierre could not

then sell a painting.

After he died,

everyone wanted a Sarcelle.

When it was too late.

This was always

one of my favorites.

But there was one

I wanted even more.

Oh! It cannot be!

She was sold to a dealer.

A dealer commissioned by me.

Ma petite Phryne.

This was the one

you truly wanted.

Sarcelle would not part with it.

Ah, Pierre, mon amour.

How I miss you.

I'm sorry.

I never thought to see it again.

You know this was his best work.

That's what he always said.

He would never sell it.

We will never know

what happened

that terrible night.

(whistle)

Ah!

Argh!

(whistle)

Coffee is ready downstairs,

Miss Fisher.

Thank you, Mr Butler.

If a French luncheon

is in order,

I noticed that the butcher's

shop has duck in the window.

That's very considerate

but we will be dining out.

- Very good, miss.

- Mr Butler.

The painting in the parlor.

You know the one I mean.

Could you please lift it down

and wrap it?

Madame Sarcelle

will be taking it with her.

Of course.

Phryne, no!

- I did not come here...

- It belongs with you.

And it's what Pierre

would have wanted.

You must understand,

I cannot pay you.

Which is just the way I want it.

How many times do you need

to hear the same bloody story?

The car headed straight for us.

That's all we know.

We just need to finish

your statements, alright?

Excuse me.

Track down any witnesses?

The bloke from the bakery says

he saw a car parked out front

just before closing.

A blue Rolls.

Did you say Rolls?

Do you know anyone

who owns a blue Rolls?

- Hector bloody Chambers.

- The bookie?

That slimy, double-crossing

little toad.

First he fleeces us and then...

Then he tries to run you down?

Why?

We got the nod on a horse in the

fourth at Flemington yesterday.

On a fixed race, no doubt.

Don't know nothing about that.

So we all had a tipple.

50 to one.

Bet a pound each with Chambers.

- And the horse came in first?

- By four lengths.

So we front Chambers

in the back bar.

When Thommo tried to get him to

cough up, he just laughed at us.

Said he wouldn't pay out

on a tip-off.

That's when

there was a bit of biff.

Told Thommo Chambers wasn't

worth it but it was too late.

- He took a swing.

- Birmingham hit Chambers?

MAN: Bert!

Oh, you blokes

are a sight for sore eyes.

Just been to see Thommo's

missus at the hospital.

And?

Not good.

Out of my road, Tarzan.

What now, sir?

We have a word with Chambers,

Constable,

before Bert and his mates do.

Trust me, Seth.

This nag's had so much

rocket fuel pumped into her

she could run to Sydney

and back.

Yeah, no problem.

- Hector Chambers?

- Who wants to know?

Detective Inspector

Jack Robinson.

Bit early to be drinking,

isn't it?

Pure health tonic.

Kicked alcohol years ago.

Gives me gout.

No ill effects from smoking,

though?

(coughs)

None at all.

Why don't you tell us how your

vehicle came to be involved

in a hit and run last night?

Or you could tell me.

You had a dispute about a bet

with the victim.

I understand

he gave you that shiner.

I'm a well-to-do gentleman.

I've got better things to do

than run down diggers

for the sake of 150 quid.

So you admit

they did place bets with you?

I admit nothing.

Hmm.

Oh!

Never seen that before.

It's a public bar.

Nothing to do with me

so you can't charge me.

How about we charge you

with murder instead, hmm?

Murder?

What?

Birmingham and his colleagues

placed a bet

but there was a dispute

when you refused to pay out.

Then he struck you

a blow to the eye

and you retaliated

by running him down.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,

hold your horses.

The Police Association clubrooms

must be in need of, what,

a couple of new punching bags,

yeah?

Some new table tennis

paddle sticks, yeah?

- Add bribery to the charges.

- Yes, sir.

- Look, my Rolls was stolen.

- How convenient.

I might even have half an idea

who stole it.

His name?

I'm bad with names.

Something, er, foreign.

Describe him.

Foreign-looking.

Doesn't sound

like much of an alibi.

Sure you want to stick

to that story?

The foreigner stole my Rolls.

(piano music)

(gasps)

C'est Cafe Anatole!

Recreated down

to the last tiny detail,

as Cafe Replique,

for obvious reasons.

Mademoiselle Fisher!

It has been too long.

And who is your charming friend?

Anatole, c'est moi! Veronique!

- Veronique?

- Oui!

- Sarcelle?

- Oui.

Ma chérie!

I hardly recognize you!

You are well?

Oui, oui, of course. And you?

Life is good.

An early luncheon

is highly in order.

Is that onion soup I smell?

Made fresh this morning.

- With cognac?

- Naturellement.

Ah, bon.

Jean, soupe à l'oignon for two.

- Yes, sir.

- May I take your coat?

Oui.

Ah, merci, Jean.

Not your usual table,

Mademoiselle Fisher,

but Veronique will like this one

much better.

Regardez-vous. The opening

of Cafe Anatole of Paris.

Oh!

Without you,

we would have starved.

Such a great artist.

I like to think I helped him

in some small way.

But it is good the French police

have reopened the investigation

into his death, oui?

Have they?

It was reported

in the French newspapers.

I have La Presse posted to me.

I keep them all.

What prompted the reopening

of the investigation?

Now that his work is famous,

now they care.

You are here with the police?

No. I came only

to see my old friend, Phryne.

Have they found the Australians

who saw what happened?

The gendarmes,

they do not confide in me.

- (bell)

- Excusez-moi.

Do you know what line

of investigation

the police are pursuing?

Perhaps I could be

of assistance.

That's right,

you are now the detective.

If there's any way

that I could help.

It is a thing of the past.

There's nothing the police can

do that will bring Pierre back.

Some things cannot be undone.

- Ah.

- Voilà.

Merci.

- Voilà.

- Merci, merci!

Bon appetit.

Does Anatole still give the room

to the artists after closing?

- Yes.

- Ah.

(whispers)

It's not the same as it was.

(accordion music)

Ah, Pierre, mon amour.

PIERRE: Veronique, je t'aime.

MAN: Ah, the cognac!

Ah, Rene,

we thought you were not coming!

Mon ami!

My new model,

Mademoiselle Phryne.

PIERRE: Tu approuves?

RENE: What treasure is this?

Rene Dubois, at your service,

mademoiselle.

Quite lovely, isn't it?

Mm.

Very. The way her...

- Hello.

- Dot!

Hugh.

Er...

You said you wanted to go

to the pictures tonight.

What, tonight?

I...

don't think I can.

It's your favorite. The Sheik.

Oh.

But I have sewing and baking

to do for the fete.

Well, I thought ice cream

at Kerby's

and then maybe a walk

along the pier afterwards.

I can't, Hugh.

I've got a headache.

I think I should take a powder

and have a quiet night.

Maybe tomorrow night, then.

Maybe.

I hope you feel better.

Thank you for the tea,

Mr Butler.

What is it, Dorothy?

I was down at the church helping

to organize for the fete,

and Father Grogan

made me go to confession.

Made you?

It's been a while.

He said he's tried

to be understanding

ever since I started

working for Miss Fisher.

Like when I pretended to be

in the family way

to help catch Butcher George

or when I helped the Latvians

with the bank robbery.

You were taken hostage

at the time.

But he says he draws the line

at...

What?

Kissing a Protestant.

He said

I'm not to see Hugh again.

Oh dear.

Thommo, you alright, mate?

(whispers) Right as rain.

- What?

- He said right as rain.

Sure you are.

(coughs)

I'll get you some water.

Nurse...

Nurse!

I'm sorry.

There's plenty of room. You're

more than welcome to stay.

Merci, non. You have been

more than generous.

But I am tired.

Such a good lunch.

At least let me

give you a lift home.

The Seascape Hotel

is not so far from here.

The walk will do me good.

In Paris, I walk everywhere.

You'd tell me if there was

anything I could do to help you?

Of course.

And you will come back

for dinner?

I look forward to that.

Ah, merci beaucoup.

You will never know

how much this means.

You were always

his favorite model.

Beautiful on the outside

and the inside.

Au revoir.

Au revoir.

(accordion music)

Ah, carotte?

Oui.

Parfait.

Voilà!

(applause)

Rene,

you waste your talent.

This Dadaism

is just empty parody.

There can be no brave new world

if there is no brave new art.

Well, if this is the new art,

then I will happily remain

in the Dark Ages.

A dinosaur, that is you,

mon ami. Mwah!

(both laugh)

It's a crime

wasting a beautiful body

like this black cat

on the likes of you.

And you, Monsieur Rene,

what would you do with my body?

I think you are so brave, miss,

to stand in a room full of men

with no clothes.

I didn't have two centimes

to rub together after the war.

My ambulance unit

had been disbanded,

my family had no idea

where to send me money.

And it was exhilarating.

But you were all alone

in a foreign country.

Weren't you scared?

I don't think I was sensible

enough to be scared.

I'll let Mr Butler know he'll

need to buy that duck after all.

BUTLER:

Sorry to disturb you, miss.

Mr Johnson and Mr Yates

would like a word.

What's this?

I've got another couple of quid

too.

I want to hire you,

same as anybody else would.

I suggested we call

in the professional.

My money's

as good as any toff's.

I'm at your service, Bert.

And there is no question

of me charging you.

It will be my honor to help.

So you think

this Hector Chambers

is responsible

for your friend's death?

The baker saw the Rolls

just after

it collected Mr Birmingham.

The driver then continued on

round the next corner,

drove on the wrong side

of the road...

Not a lot of crime out there

today?

Ah, Miss Fisher.

I was wondering when Bert would

wheel in the heavy artillery.

Bert is naturally keen to see

some movement

in this tragic matter.

And as movement in copper speak

means slower than a wet week...

Mr Chambers claims his car

was stolen, Bert.

Stolen my ar...Aunt Mary.

We're trying to recreate

the scene of the crime.

So I see. Yours?

They're my... It's my nephew's.

And if you can please not touch.

(makes sound of car)

Beep beep!

Looks like the driver's

had a few too many sherries.

Can't have been Hector Chambers,

then.

- Why?

- He doesn't drink.

His preferred vice

is cheap cigars.

- What are these?

- Collisions.

As I was saying, the driver

then clipped the milk truck,

drove over the bollard

and drove off.

Must have done some damage.

And left a lot

of bloody evidence.

He's hit the milk truck here

and then continued

over the bollard there.

The local constables

were all over this.

They found the glass

from the broken headlamp?

It's all in the report.

- They noticed the engine oil?

- Er...

And if he's done his sump,

he wouldn't get far.

Could've knocked the plug loose.

Wouldn't come out right away.

- Up the street a bit maybe.

- Just...

How far exactly

did these constables look?

I...

Just...

- Here's some more oil.

- Not a lot left.

Sump'd be running dry

by this time.

Can't be much further.

Engine would've seized up.

Just what we need,

an amateur detective on the job.

With us professionals?

CEC: Nothing.

It didn't vanish

off the face of the earth.

I suspect not, Bert. (sniffs)

Should we add psychic powers

to your already considerable

list of accomplishments?

No, just an exceptionally good

sense of smell.

You mentioned something

about cheap cigars.

Chambers.

- Get back.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I'd prefer you not to let all

of Fitzroy know we're here.

You got a better idea?

Yeah. You two ladies

stay here with Miss Fisher.

She won't be going anywhere,

not in that skirt.

Keep your shirts on, gentlemen.

No need for anyone

to miss out on the fun.

(man whistles)

JACK: Morning, sir.

Lovely car.

Had a bit of a bingle, did we?

Where's Chambers?

- Hey!

- Who?

Give me that, you idiot!

- Hector Chambers.

- Never heard of him.

But you just

happen to have his car.

I come home from my shift,

there she was in the laneway.

Only thing missing was the

wrapping paper and gift card.

I found her, right?

Not a word of a lie.

Problem is, this car was used

in a hit-and-run incident.

- A man was killed.

- Bloody hell.

Well, no wonder he scarpered.

- Who, the driver?

- Yeah.

Can you describe him?

So high. Hat, jacket.

- Is this the man?

- That don't look like him.

The other bloke, though,

he was erm...

- Er, foreign-looking?

- Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

Looks like Hector Chambers

was telling the truth.

Well, there's a turn-up

for the books.

But let's do

a thorough check of the car.

The church fete?

Father Grogan is determined

to make more money than

St Christopher's this year.

Two more nut loaves.

I think he has a wager on it.

I thought gambling was a sin.

Well, I hope he appreciates

all your efforts,

sewing, baking,

especially given his lack

of understanding

about Hugh being a Protestant.

Father Grogan says

he's merely God's messenger.

There must be something

you can do to convince him

that stepping out

with a nice young man

like Hugh Collins isn't a sin.

What would Miss Fisher do?

She'd probably

make a big donation

or pull a gun on him.

Though I don't think

either of those things

would even budge my priest.

You're a woman with influence,

Dorothy.

- Though you may not realize it.

- How?

Well, you're crucial

to the success of the fete.

If, for some reason,

you decided not to fulfill

your commitments to the church,

then I suspect you,

along with your handicrafts,

and mending and baking,

would be sorely missed.

I would.

But isn't that...blackmail?

Oh, Miss Fisher

wouldn't see it like that.

It'd be calling his bluff.

Shall I keep the confit

de canard warm, miss?

I'm sure it will be just as

delicious tomorrow, Mr Butler.

But it does seem

that Madame Sarcelle

will not be making

an appearance.

Is that the Seascape Hotel?

I'd like to speak with one

of your guests, Madame Sarcelle?

S-A-R-C-E-L-L-E.

It's French.

Could you please check again?

You have no idea

where she might be staying?

No, but wherever it is,

I suspect

she's fallen on hard times.

Not going

to stay for another cocoa?

Got some nosing around to do.

Since the coppers

aren't up for much.

Chambers' story

about his car being stolen

seems to hold water.

Isn't it possible

that someone else

had something against

your Thommo?

It was Chambers. Dead cert.

Yeah, and if it wasn't him

behind the wheel,

it was one of his cronies.

Thanks for the cocoa.

Thanks, miss.

You think

they're wasting their time?

It doesn't add up, Dot.

A career criminal like Chambers

doesn't seem the type

to run over one of his punters

in a fit of pique.

There's some other angle

to this.

(clattering)

Stay here.

- PHRYNE: Argh!

- MAN: Argh!

(both groan)

PHRYNE: Mr Butler! Help!

He had a car parked in the lane.

I'll telephone the police.

No, Mr Butler,

it can wait till morning.

But what if he returns?

He won't.

He got what he was after.

There's only one

French-bound vessel

due to sail from Melbourne

in the next month

and there's no Sarcelle

on the passenger list.

JACK: At least she won't be

leaving the country in a hurry.

I do know when she arrived in

Melbourne, if that's any help.

It was only ten days ago

on the Empress of Australia.

Apparently there was a passenger

named Sarcelle

who spent the entire voyage

in the sick bay.

She was traveling

with her husband.

Husband?

She never remarried.

So we're looking

for an accomplice.

Ron, open up!

Ronnie! Ronnie!

Ronnie, no!

There's nothing else

that you could have done, Bert.

Thank God you're safe.

Ronnie's bed was on fire.

I did my best to get to him.

I could see him there.

Even at the last,

he was waving me to get back.

But I couldn't help him.

This doesn't make...

So you finished the war

in France?

BERT: Demobbed in Paris.

Took their bloody time

getting us home.

Not that I'm complaining.

There are worse cities

to kill time.

Should have seen it.

Just wall-to-wall diggers.

Making more noise than a flock

of cockies at sunset.

Drunk cockies at that!

Ronnie was always the one

to drag us out sightseeing.

Only sight you saw

was the bottom of a glass.

Used to come stumbling

back to the station

at the crack of dawn.

Station? What station?

Don't know. What was the name

of the one we left from?

MEN SING: ♪ Mademoiselle from

Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪

♪ Mademoiselle from

Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪

♪ Mademoiselle from Mont... ♪

- Mont...

- Montparnasse.

♪ ..from Montparnasse ♪

(whistle)

He dropped a painting.

We handed it in.

I thought it was next

to the article

about repairs

to the Eiffel Tower but...

Ah. Voila.

"French police have reopened

the case into the death

of well-known artist

Pierre Sarcelle

nearly ten years after

he was pushed under a train

at Montparnasse Station

in January 1919."

(whistle)

Argh!

♪ Mademoiselle from

Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪

"It is believed his killer

was attempting to steal

Sarcelle's last painting."

(whistle)

"Woman With Peignoir."

It must be him.

Who else would kill

for that painting?

PIERRE:

Arch your neck, if you please.

Good. Good.

Good, good.

- Let's go!

- VERONIQUE: Rene!

- On y va!

- (Veronique sighs)

I told you

I was working tonight.

And I told you no more.

C'est fini!

- Rene! Are you mad?

- Rene, please, no trouble.

I'm coming.

You are the only one who

understands me,

ma chat noir.

"The police

are making every effort

to assist to find

three Australian soldiers

who may be able

to assist with enquiries."

PHRYNE: They're looking for Bert

and his friends.

Rene got to two of them first.

Rene? Rene Dubois?

To silence the men

who saw him kill Pierre.

Yes, miss. Sir, it's Miss Fisher

on the telephone.

Please explain to her

I'm not at her...

She said it's an emergency.

She thinks Bert is in danger.

Miss Fisher?

Wait, please, slow down.

And did the barman at the Flora

say where Bert was heading?

I'll be right there.

Six, seven, eight.

- To Ronnie.

- To Ronnie.

14, 15, 16.

Thank heavens!

GIRL: 31, 32.

Bert!

(girl screams)

(whistle)

You're not going anywhere.

I'm not about

to be frightened off

by some froggy

with a peashooter.

But you are about to lay low

for a while,

well out of harm's way.

For me, Bert.

Please.

CEC:

I'll keep an eye on him, miss.

I suppose the cab

could do with a wash.

Thank you, Bert.

I appreciate it.

Miss.

Thank you very much. Goodbye.

Turns out the French authorities

did send a letter to the army.

It sat on a second lieutenant's

desk for a month,

then moved to a major's desk,

then finally to a brigadier's.

The wheels of international

justice turn slowly.

I suspect Bert would have been

contacted

before the century was out.

Le ce ne...

I'm afraid my French

isn't quite what it should be.

Bert and his mates

were at Montparnasse Station

when Rene pushed

Pierre Sarcelle under a train.

Now Rene's here to make sure no

one speaks with the gendarmes.

So he comes to the other end

of the earth

to track down the witnesses?

Then steal a painting or two

while he's here?

Rene is an opportunist.

Any other ideas

as to how we track him down?

Apart from Veronique,

I have no idea who else

he might be in contact with.

There is one person

we know he had dealings with.

JACK: How did Dubois

get in contact with you?

The traditional way. He came

up to me, started talking.

What did he want?

And you are?

I'm the woman who'll make

you suffer, and suffer dearly,

if you don't start talking.

We're dealing with not one

but two suspicious deaths.

Nothing to do with me.

I can smell an accessory

to murder charge in the wind.

Look, he must have seen

Birmingham clock me, OK?

He sidled over

and he bought me a drink,

and then he told me

how I should get even.

Then he offered me £500.

For?

To knock 'em off.

What, the three of them?

Mm.

Thought he was having me on

but he didn't seem

the joking sort.

So what did you say?

I told him

I'd have to think about it.

£500 don't seem like a lot

for a hanging offence.

You thought you could get

the price up?

I was stalling him.

He said he had a valuable piece

of art to sell

and if I helped him move it on,

I'd get a piece of the pie.

I said I'd get back to him

if I was interested.

How?

He gave me the card for some

hotel he was staying at.

He said he'd be there

for the rest of the week.

Here it is.

The Seascape Hotel.

Veronique was there

the whole time

but under the name of Dubois.

- Open the door!

- Veronique! Ouvrez la porte!

- Right.

- Sir, wait, wait!

Out of the way.

Veronique!

Mon Dieu.

(coughs)

What has he done to you?

I am so ashamed.

After Pierre died,

I was so lost,

and Rene, at first, was...

Charm itself.

For a short while, oui.

Now he has taken his bags

and left me for dead.

No need to explain.

Do you know where he is?

No.

Rene killed Pierre.

No.

And now he's here

to kill the witnesses.

And you,

you are not safe either.

What did I ever do to Rene?

You broke his heart.

And for that,

he want to kill you.

You are mine.

You understand? Mine!

Not Sarcelle's!

Or anybody's.

Mine.

Body...

Mind...

And soul.

Argh!

You are not afraid?

He's the one

who ought to be afraid.

JACK: Miss Fisher's

come up with a plan

to get you out of the cells.

- You gonna post bail?

- Better than that.

I'm all ears.

I want you to get word

to Dubois.

Tell him you know someone

who can sell that painting.

Why would I do that?

I thought you wanted

some fresh air, Hector.

But it's easy enough to keep you

locked up indefinitely.

Tell him you'll meet him at Cafe

Replique this afternoon at 3pm.

So I'm the sacrificial goat

in all of this, eh?

Eh? Is that it?

And a charming little goat

you are too.

Pour monsieur,

escargots avec garlic butter.

Bon appetit.

To think I managed

to avoid snails the entire time

I was posted in France.

Mm.

Not bad.

Like buttered pieces

of India rubber.

(cork pops)

The room is full of police.

You couldn't be more safe.

Just what we need.

JACK: Who invited the comrades?

PHRYNE:

They must have followed us.

They'll ruin everything.

Phryne, no.

Dubois could be here any minute.

Here. Sit here.

I'll keep an eye out for him.

Monsieur?

I don't feel I have your

full attention, Miss Fisher.

Eyes front. Phryne.

Phryne!

Long time no see.

This is from Thommo and Ronnie.

Bert, no!

Police! Out of the way!

Argh!

My Phryne.

It has been too long, no?

Ah!

No!

Drop it, monsieur.

Stay back, Jack!

You would not shoot me.

(gun clicks)

I'm not afraid of you.

(woman gasps)

(cries)

(groans)

JACK: Are you alright?

I believe I am.

How was church, Dorothy?

Wonderful.

- And the headache?

- Gone, completely.

Clothing, crafts, cakes,

all delivered?

After I had a chat

with Father Grogan.

Was it a profitable chat?

I told him

I was thinking of converting.

Very nice, Dorothy.

And what did Father Grogan

say to that?

Well, he says he thinks I should

bide my time with my Protestant.

Perhaps he will follow

God's shining beacon

to the Catholic church.

Oh! Wonderful news.

And where will

you be biding your time tonight?

Hugh's taking me

to the pictures.

Oh, you should

take this along with you.

Miss Fisher wanted

Constable Collins to have it.

For his nephew.

Er...

This is certainly

a well-travelled work of art.

A little like me.

Thank you

for helping to retrieve it.

You're blushing.

I'm a grown man, Miss Fisher.

I'm not likely to blush at the

sight of a little bare flesh.

That's what surprises me,

Detective Inspector.

In fact, lately,

you're full of surprises.

It's all part of the job.

I have to get back

to the station.

Excuse me.

Goodnight, then.

JACK: Night.