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They're here.
Who? The watch?

Spirits. Ghosts.

They're in here, all right.

Turn off the lanterns,
you'd see their eyes.

-They'll be watching.
-They change the watch in four minutes.

Move.

Forgive me, Father.

It has been 14 hours
since my last confession.

Really, that long?
You felt it couldn't wait till morning?

No. These thoughts haunt my nights.

I'm filled with
an unquenchable fire, Father.

A rage of such purity,
that all I crave is violent retribution.

Yes, well, that's quite natural.

Port Victory is a cesspit.
A pox-ridden sewer.

Everywhere I look,
the stench of filth and scum.

It is a stench
below the very ground we walk on.

Aputi, you stay here.

We'll take the empty one up
and bring the full one back down.

So, I'll be alone down here?

I hear voices.
Do you hear voices?

- Guards.
-They can hear ghosts?

They can hear you, you pillock. Quiet.

You're hearing things. Come on.

All right. All clear, come on.

It seeps through the soil

and has now poisoned my own wife,

turning this once-virtuous woman

into a debauched wastrel,
destined for the fires.

I can see their eyes looking at me now.

-Sorry, whose eyes?
-Sneering eyes...

Yes, them.

...mocking me, because she has
given herself over to the devil.

- I refuse...

...to be humiliated by these people!

God is challenging me to take a scythe
and cut through this foul effluvium.

All right.

It should be one of these barrels here.
The smell will tell you.

Aputi, do you have to do that?

I can see eyes.

Yes, they're mine.

I thought you said
you don't do crime no more?

-Hide.

I tell ya, I heard voices.

-Oh, my God.

You tell me you didn't hear that.

Flashbang.

-What is that you're in?
-Sardines, I think.

-Why didn't you just hide behind it?
-Wise, in hindsight.

Whoa!

Over here. This is it, all right.

Why, does it smell?

It's the fermenting insides of a whale.

-So, yes, it smells.
-And it smells bad, do it?

What part of the "fermenting insides
of a whale" do you not understand?

Not good on smells.

Lost all sense in the Taiwan explosion.
Overdid the gunpowder.

-I thought you lost your hearing, then?
-No, that was Singapore.

There's really not very much "flash"
to your "bang," is there, Flashbang?

It's pretty much all bang.

Now, we're in the whale's gizzards game?
You eat this stuff?

No. This is ambergris.
They use it to make perfume.

And this barrel
is worth its weight in silver.

You gentlemen seem rather bedraggled
by life's woes.

Aye. We heard things tonight.
Things you cannae unhear, you know?

I always say, "A tumbler of the old
golden wallop lifts the heart."

You just wait there.

My sweet Lady Rottenford,
two of your finest, if you please.

And with what legal tender
would you be paying for these drinks?

You've got me solemn oath,
you will be paid in abundance

just as soon as we manage
to offload this bloody ambergris.

And how will this miracle
be achieved, then?

I'm gonna have me coveys replicate
the exact texture and stink of this stuff,

so not even the whale's wife will know
that we've made the switch.

And in the meantime,

I goes and flogs the original ambergris
for a very pretty return.

Mmm. So, how long will this take?

It will require the, shall we say,
the capaciousness of time.

A few days. A few days.

Waylaying these fine sailors' departure
with some wholesome libations.

Then, you should probably know

the capaciousness of time
is leaving the bar.

Yeah.

Oh, buggering.

Lads!

Lads! Where are you headed?

I've never been so happy to return to sea.

Captain wants us to sail tomorrow
on the king tide.

No, no, no, you can't.

You know the old sailors' adage,
"Sail on the morrow, expect much sorrow."

-Weather be on the turn.
-No, it won't.

The weather be bloody clement, actually.

-All right, mate.

That's just a tickle of drizzle,
that's all. Lads!

Lads!

Seen your boy emerge from
the bowels with two others and a barrel.

-Oh, hello. Here he is.
-Somethin' I need to know?

No, only that our boy
is back in the goodly fold.

You got somethin' over him?

Not this time, no.

Just seems that being spurned by a woman
is a great boon to our profession.

Just make sure he don't get careless
and get caught.

-When your boy gets his blood up...
-Oi!

Don't tell me how to run the Dodger.

How do they turn this stuff into perfume?

Seen Frenchies do it.

Spices, herbs, alcohol,

stir it in a big drum,
steam it for a long time.

Listen.

The natural order of the days ahead
has changed direction

in a positive and, arguably,
negative light.

English.

The Duchess of Portland
sails on tomorrow evening's tide.

That's not near enough time
to make a fake.

Sadly, needs dictate
we return the barrel to the docks tonight,

before they discover its absence.

-No, we do not cower. We stay course.
-You will be discovered.

There's no thievin' to be done
if they scrag us.

We're not takin' this back.

You wanted me back in.
Here I am, I am back.

You can work on it in the morgue.

It's already stinking the place out.

Oi! Dodge!

Remember what I always told you
as a little 'un?

A pickpocket
needs to know when to pull out.

And you always had to play it dangerous,

and sometimes,
I had to take a gentle hand

and nab you back
from the edges of calamity.

Well, now, is one of them times.

You can keep your hands to yourself.

I want a win.

You've been moping ever since
Dr. Dawkins ruined our dinner.

Come on. Up!

Close them now. Immediately.

No, there'll be none of that.

-Are you feeling any better?
-Yes, I'm completely cured.

-Close the curtains.
-I have a gift to lift your spirits.

-A guillotine?
-Better.

A painting made with these very hands.

It's the story of us.

Our journey here, a house, a kangaroo.

-What are these?
Tree trunks.

I keep seeing these in my dreams.
I'm rather drawn to them.

So, there's no story of us.

Fanny, we're as much prisoners here
as we were in London society.

-Dr. Sneed is here for you.

No, for your sister.
He wishes to take her shooting.

This is an endless world
of bogglingly-stupid dinner parties,

men boasting all night,
and pretending, somehow,

against all evidence,
they're cleverer than us.

They are.
That is why they're in positions of power.

Fine. And stay at home all day,
painting hideous scenes of trees.

I'm sure she didn't mean
to say those things, Fanny.

She's not well, darling.

Would you draw the curtains, please?

-Well done. Another bull's eye.
-One of my many gifts.

Here, let me show you.

Oh, I'm afraid I'm not really interested
in shooting at these.

Ah, none of that.

I'm a modern man who happens to believe

shooting is an essential skill
for women, too. Here.

-Good.
-Yes, thank you.

-A little cock.

Look down the barrel with an eye focused
on the sight, and ever so gently...

-Just...
-Oh!

Whoo!

-Thank you.
-Mmm.

-It was most exhilarating.
-Yes. Ah.

I hear you keep requesting
my presence.

My dear friend,

it is not fitting that a man
of my standing should be treated thus.

Yet, here we are.

I am the victim
of a most egregious misunderstanding.

Pray, do tell.

What you witnessed those long weeks ago
was not as it appeared.

I was working
as an intermediary on your behalf.

Lucien, I was endeavouring to protect
your lady wife's spotless reputation.

By giving her pubic crabs, you mean?

No! Her condition

was the consequence of inefficient laundry
by an infected maid.

When you found us,
I was rushing her to hospice.

So, I see I am in your debt.
And the stolen soldiers' pay?

I swear before God and all that is sacred,

I have no idea
how that ended up in our carriage.

I do. You were set up.

Indeed, I believe
I know who is responsible.

So, you believe me?

Oh, yes. Indeed.

It was the young surgeon
and his repugnant uncle.

It's only a matter of time before I
catch them in the act and they too hang.

Too?

Well, unless you can explain

how you contracted
the very same pubic crabs as my wife,

you'll most definitely meet the gallows
on whatever charge I choose to conjure.

It's no London, is it?
Thank God for that.

Yet, it is still a place
with enormous possibility,

where one with drive and ambition may
make oneself a great career for oneself.

-Yeah, oneself being male, of course.
-Of course.

But also, for the one whose companionship
one will share with...

Could one say things plainly?
There are perfect pronouns for the task.

I'm about
to come into a considerable endowment.

-Mmm.
-My brother, the Honourable James Sneed,

has acquired a licence
in the Spice Islands

and, through filial love,

allowed me a ten percent share
of his nutmeg trade.

You're a surgeon. What use is nutmeg?

My dear Belle,
are you not apprised of its worth?

How sweet.

A large canister of nutmeg
would buy one a house in Mayfair.

But surely, being a surgeon
is the most exciting thing in the world.

Healing people, caring for people.

I would give anything
to have such a profession.

-It's all right, I suppose.

But now that I am to be Chief Surgeon
upon the professor's retirement, one...

I am in a position to offer a companion,

a woman, a life of comfort and security.

Oh, my God, please don't.

Belle, until my brother offered me this,

I did not feel in a position
to speak openly,

but now,
I humbly seek your hand in marriage.

Why?

But you must know how I feel?

No, I have absolutely not the faintest.

Sneed, I've known you for many years
as a friend and a companion.

I never sensed anything deeper.

You don't love me, do you?

Love comes with settling
and companionship.

You must see our families and my position
make this a perfect match.

It is not yet a ring, but in its own way,
far more valuable.

Nutmeg.

Yes,
it's not an unpleasant smell.

So, do I have your blessing to go
and converse with your father?

Uh...

Well, one needs time
for one to fully consider one's...

...one.

No, this isn't right.

Ambergris needs to be thicker, more solid.
What have we tried?

A crate of off oysters, sheep's testicles,

some seaweed, crab carcasses,
and Samuel Dean's liver.

Any whaler worth his salt
will pick this as fake.

It needs to be thicker.

Dodge, Dodge, come here.

Listen, I'm as bricky as anyone.

There's nothin' I like more
than a bit of pilfering done right,

puts a sparkle in the eyes.

But if we can't match this

by the turn of this evening's tide,
they'll be onto us.

They're onto us, anyway.
The moment we open our mouths,

the moment they realise we can't even read
some toff Latin nonsense.

We're not even
worth sitting at their table.

What's that gotta do with anything?

Look, the toffs will never accept us
and neither do we accept the toffs.

That's the human condition.

But don't get us hanged

because you're in a huff
about your fancy skirt.

To hell with it, then.
Can't even stand the smell of that stuff.

Oh, come on!
It's no worse than the Thames at low tide.

See, my todger is giving me
all kinds of grief, you see,

and we're sailing tonight.

You have classic pox,

and I want you to place this weight
on the end of your member,

thus allowing the exuding of pus.

Then keep bathing it in mercury
and arsenic for the long voyage ahead.

Next.

What's wrong with your head, sailor?

Navigator. Me eyes.

Right. Pull them down.
Make sure you take two pills a day.

I was struck
when Duchess of Portland's foresail boom

snapped in a storm off the northern coast.

Right.

Thank you.

-Next.
-Dodger, while you're busy here,

now would be a good moment
to nudge that barrel shipward.

Yes, fine. Do it.

You need to eat oranges.
You're developing scurvy.

Roll it back, lads.

Preserve me, sir.
Is there naught you can do?

It's me livelihood.

Unless you doctors can fix me,

the Captain has no choice
but to use another navigator.

I'm sorry.
There's naught one can do about it.

Purchase a cane.

You, what is the grave digger
wheeling out?

Samuel Dean's organs, sir.
A large gentleman.

Malodorous in life, apparently.

-Sir! A word, if I may.
-Not now.

I just overheard your sad conversation
with that surgeon just now,

and though I'm not much given to emotion,
I was moved.

Then you know
why I do not wish to converse.

I would ask you don't lose hope.

You should talk to this other surgeon.

He's much better qualified,
and he's done this operation 100 times.

Maybe 200 times and with great success.

It would mean a very minor delay before
the Duchess of Portland sets sail...

If you are serious,

the Captain is a relative,
I may yet convince him of the need.

When can I meet this surgeon?

You just leave it with me, all right?
Hang on.

Back, boys, roll it back, come on.
Come on, back.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

You need a steady hand. Now, listen.

They do say a man cannot change tides
or oceans, but I, Norbert Fagin,

have managed to delay the departure
of the Duchess of Portland

-by three days.
-How?

-What have you got us into?
-Nothing.

You might have to perform
a very minor operation.

I'm sorry, I can't help you.

The man is completely cross-eyed.

He can't even see a hand
in front of his own face.

But he does have a very good view
of his right ear.

I thought this is what you wanted.
Don't you see the beauty?

It buys us time.

How many times did you tell him
I've done this?

Once. Tell a lie, twice.

Do you know how difficult,
how precise this procedure is?

-No.
-If he moves, I blind him.

You need to have more confidence
in your artfulness.

This is beyond my skill.

Nothing is beyond the Dodger's skill!

Back slang it, lads.
Dodger's gone a wobblin'.

I demand to know
why you were seeing my patient.

I had already made it abundantly clear
his condition is inoperable.

He wanted a second opinion.

From you? Please.

Wouldn't you want a second opinion
if some spoilt, pompous, upper-class prat

with only basic medical knowledge
told you your career was over?

Never cross me again
on matters medical, Dawkins.

I don't know how things were done
on your side of the city,

but that's not how we do things here.

You will not operate on that man.

And if I find that foul stench

has anything to do with you
or your illiterate friends,

I will see you are all soundly punished.

That's so strange because, you see,

we all thought that that smell
was coming from you.

All right, I will do it.

Hey! Back inside, lads.

Bring that cat to the morgue. It's on.

I'm not hungry, Fanny.

Look, I've drawn you another picture.

Thank you. I will eat it cold.

Hello.

-Have you completely lost all sense?
-Quite possibly.

If you have come to apologise
for your behaviour from now weeks ago,

then you must do it formally
and at a proper time.

I will consider
whether or not to accept it. Please go.

Do you know about Strabismus surgery?

What does a criminal need to know
about that?

-You don't know what it is?
-It's the realignment of the eye.

See? I knew you'd know.

Would you happen to have some
medical textbook that might...

Yes. Stay here.

Actually, no.
Come, I've got valuable items in here.

You gonna eat this soup?

No, apparently not.

What's that you're holding?

Apparently, a tree.

This way.

"It was first performed in the 1830s
by John Homer Dix.

"The surgeon needs only three instruments,

"a fine hook to elevate the conjunctiva,
a bent probe to isolate the tendon,

"and scissors
for opening up the conjunctiva."

Pictures. I need pictures.

Yes. Here.

It is so dangerous.

Yeah, but you love that, don't you?

Can you do it?

Yes.

Maybe.

Hmm.

It's important for both of us that we
clear the air about what transpired.

I admit that I said things in that moment
that I now regret.

And I'm equally sure that you said things

that now, in the cold light of day,
you wish were...

Are you feeling any better, sister?

Yes, fine.

See, you eat,
and you are well again.

You've had eight turns this past month.
I do count them.

I am fine. Go to bed.

Now, what is that awful smell?

Fagin.

It smells like ambergris.

Like what?

Will you wait?

Are you going to apologise to me or not?

No. What for?

For the way you spoke to me.

I was hurt.

And I'm sorry if I spoke to you abruptly.

But I don't know how to talk to women.
I've never really had to.

I am similarly rarely interested
in anything a man has to say.

And I forgive you.

Good.

Don't invite me to any more
stupid dinner parties.

Your lot will never accept me.

Why would you want them to accept you?
You have no idea how boring we all are.

Not all of you.

Here you go, sir.

Can you just cover your right eye
for me, please?

Now, how many fingers am I holding up?

Two?

Lower your arm.

Now, how many?

Four.

You have almost no vision
in your right eye either, do you?

Shapes mainly, left was me last good eye.

Tell me why you like being a sailor.

With respect, ma'am,
I'm not just a sailor, I'm a navigator.

Went to sea when I was 12,

worked on a hundred ships,
most of them terrible.

But I learnt, ma'am.

Everything there is to know
about the oceans

and currents, the winds, and the stars.

You have no idea what it feels like

when those around
trust their fortune to you.

You should know
my colleague is an inveterate liar.

And not only have I never performed
this surgery before,

but nobody in this country has.

I see.

Oh.

What I can tell you,

is the condition in your right eye
will only continue to get worse with time,

to the point
where you might never see again.

Now, if we try and we fail here tonight,

then you will lose your vision
in both eyes.

However, on the slim chance
that we succeed,

you might get to navigate again.

So, what are we waiting for?

All right.

Strap him to the table, please.
As tight as you can.

I need your help with this one, Belle.
Can you pass me the hook, please?

Thank you.

That's it. Good.

Now hold this very taut.

Hold still.

Do you think it worked?

We won't know
until we remove the bandages.

At Government House, I heard your sister
say that this was your eighth attack.

What did she mean by that?

She imagines things.

What the navigator said,

did that sound true for you?

It was the greatest day of my life
when I got promoted to sublieutenant.

They gave me my own bed.

I'd never had my own bed before.

And my own room.

Must be wonderful to be at sea.

Travel the world.

It was.

It was the best and the worst of times.

I saw all kinds of things
I didn't even think were possible.

Wild animals and festivals.

In Hong Kong, I saw this giant
paper dragon with 50 people under it

and as they moved, this dragon
appeared to dance and breathe fire.

It was quite amazing.

Where the devil is Dawkins?

Lady Belle.

I can scarce believe my eyes.

I insist you return
to Government House immediately

and we will discuss this later.

Or possibly not.

I have always known you to be
a reprehensible, arrogant upstart,

with no respect for your betters.

I have enormous respect for my betters.
It is just there are none around here.

You have directly performed an operation
I had forbidden you to do.

That I specifically said was not a safe
operation in the patient's interest.

And I agree with your diagnosis.

A surgeon of your skill level, Sneed,
it would have been impossible.

I am to be Head Surgeon here
in two months.

You will no longer have a role here

and I will ensure
you have it nowhere else in the country.

You can crawl back
to your own kind, Dawkins.

Is that how you fight in Mayfair?

I believe the sulphuric miasma
permeating the town

is in reality
manifested from below, not above.

That be unusual,
wouldn't it, Captain Gaines?

What we are smelling now,
is evil's canker, writ large.

Perhaps get the captain a chair, Father.

I am fine where I stand.

I am more inclined to the view

that the smell emanates
from the direction of the sewerage pipes

that the Governor approved last year.

Gravity being what it is.

Mmm. In what sense, my darling?

In the sense that the raw sewage
now flows and pools in the centre of town,

not away from it.

Hard to say, one way or the other.

No, it's not a riddle, darling.
Let me speak to the engineers.

Engineers cannot fix evil.

Have you heard from your
lovely wife lately, Captain Gaines?

She still visiting relatives?

Yes, well, thank you, Captain Gaines.

Oh, uh...

Would a possible solution be
to run the pipes

from the centre of town into the harbour,
where it will have no effect?

No.

The most exciting news.
There is to be a duel in town.

Don't be silly, duels are illegal.

Not necessarily.

I rather think it might be over moi.

It does eliminate one possible suitor,
but what does one wear to a duel?

Black is foreshadowing, but green?

Who is involved?

Rainsford!

-What?
-You cannot do this.

-This is as much my fault as his.
-The man has pushed me too far.

We will settle it like gentlemen.

One of us will. Pistols at dawn.

Then I flatly refuse to marry you.

-Enjoy your stupid nutmeg.
-Belle.

Lady Belle. Please.

There's no glimmer in this.

There's no glimmer anywhere.

We got it! We got it!

It took Nellie Walpole's spleen
and the cow tripe,

but we got there in the end.

Just a sample.

Perfect smell, match and look!

Wonderful! Wonderful!

Now you can stop buggering about
with them swords and listen to this.

I have procured a buyer,
one Fettiplace Bellers,

a man so unscrupulous,
he makes me skin itch,

and he is prepared to pay 80 florins
for the genuine article.

Then we have plenty of money to celebrate
when I teach this fool a lesson.

Look, if you kill this toff,
they'll hang you!

And if he kills you, they won't care,
but I will be back on the chain gang.

You idiot! You absolute dunderhead!

At last! Someone who sees what I see.

What were you thinking?

I am tired of being treated
like some mangy dog.

You are not a mangy dog.

And he is an idiot
for treating you like one.

Apologise and withdraw. Please.

And bow down to his arrogance? No.

And I'm not going to kill him,
I will barely scratch the pompous git.

Don't worry,
I spent ten years in the Navy.

I am a master with the sword.

Good. Because it is pistols,
pistols at dawn.

And he is a master shot.

Oh.

I do not have time to fuss about
missing warehouse stock.

No, with respect, sir,

but this barrel,
it's worth a king's fortune,

and now it's as empty as me head.

-Well...
-I need you to arrest two men.

Will these two do?
On what charges, my lady?

On charges of planning to be
utterly stupid and fight a duel.

-Who would be doing that?
-Two young surgeons.

Really? So, Jack Dawkins is involved.

I can only charge them if it goes ahead.
Intention is not a crime, sadly.

The benefit for me on such occasions
is that after the duel,

there's usually only one to arrest.

I hear Sneed is a fine shot.

Sir, there was ambergris in the barrels.

And our skipper will have both our heads
if it's not back on there when we sail.

Ambergris? I imagine
the smell would be devilish.

-I've never noticed.
-Never noticed. No.

Like the smell
emanating from the hospital.

This is turning into a fine day.
Good lady, I...

I would love to help you boys,

but the old back
isn't the friend it used to be.

What's in the barrel? Looks heavy.

It's food for the widows, my lady.

How very admirable of you all.
And you, delivering it in person.

Can one try a mouthful?

Their need is greater, my lady.

I only ask because I heard Captain Gaines
is currently heading towards the wharf

to locate a missing barrel
of something called... Was it ambergris?

But I know you wouldn't be so utterly
stupid as to risk everything for that.

Captain Gaines will have no issue with
good men engaged in a charitable cause.

Hmm...

Lobster bisque?

Move.

Come on.

Unlock it.

Smash it.

Go! Move!

No. The barrel's stuck.

Go.

It's this one, sir. Right here.
Empty as...

Ow!

Remove the lid.

Ugh!

Uh...

I swear, guv, just less than an hour ago,
it was completely empty.

This is black magic.
This place is full of devils.

We heard 'em cryin' out.

Flog them both for wasting my time.

-No, sir.
-No.

Sir!

Now, how many fingers?

Forty-seven.

-Thank you, surgeon.
-You're welcome.

You know, being blind there,
it heightens other senses.

I swear I smelled something,
and not a hospital smell.

But now, you have restored my sight,
the smell seems gone.

There you go, Aputi.
Flashy, well done, my friend.

I shall see you all in the morrow.

What's this I hear about our boy
fighting a duel tomorrow?

Didn't take long for him
to get reckless now, did it?

Now, I've gotta go
slash some other geezer's throat

just to keep Jackie boy safe,
till we needs him.

That's a very good idea.
And make Dodger the main suspect?

Get back down in the drains,
let me deal with this.

If he dies tomorrow,
all our plans die with him.

Remember that.

I've never witnessed a duel before.
I've always wanted to.

I've seen a pugilist
batter another pugilist to death,

and I rather enjoyed that.
Where are you going to shoot him?

I just want it over.

However this turns out,
I am mostly grateful to have known you.

And likewise, Dodge. Life won't be
the same without you, you idiot.

Since when does
a priest officiate a duel?

Now, for God's sake, don't toy with him

like you did with that Belgian in Antwerp
'cause that was horrible.

And go for the heart.
No more shooting in the face.

A lot of these toffs
prefer an open casket. Ah!

The Rottenford duelling pistol.
Your favourite, isn't it?

Gentlemen, are you prepared
to settle this amicably?

Don't you dare.

Ah.

Wonderful. Now, that being the case,
seconds, ensure the weapons are loaded.

Has, uh, Dr. Sneed
made his funeral arrangements?

He didn't believe that would be necessary.

Really? Well, we can always
talk about that afterwards.

You must take ten paces each,
turn and fire on my signal.

All clear?

Then let us proceed
with the festive proceedings.

Come.

Here.

There.

One, two,

three, four, five,

six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

Cease this immediately!

I'm told, rather unsportingly,

that this town cannot survive
without its two surgeons.

Lower your weapons.

Now, the rules are very clear.

In circumstances such as these,
the seconds must assume their place.

-What?

Hold up. Is that a thing?
I don't think that's a thing.

No. This is madness.

I don't think either is a suitable suitor.

No. This is not how I want to view a duel.

No, in England, the second
is usually thanked kindly for his time,

and then, very often financially
compensated for all the emotional stress.

Everybody goes home happy. It's lovely.

-No. The Governor is right.
-There we go.

I'm from a good family,
dating back to 1256.

-I withdraw my allegation.
-Please, stop this.

-I apologise. Unreservedly.
-No. Too late.

-Stop this.
-Honour must be served.

Dodge.

There.

One, two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

Fire!

My Lord!

This one looks inoperable, Dr. Dawkins.
He will need a cane if he survives.

What we have here,

is a man injured in his quest for honour.

He is also my Head Surgeon

-and will replace me in the future.

For this reason,
it requires the steadiest of hands,

as I attempt the very dangerous procedure
of amputating his leg,

a foot above the knee.

Now, if you'll just bite down on this.

Tim...

Help me.

Half an hour ago, you wanted to kill me.

This does beg the question,
"What would you do in my position?"

I will give you your job back.
I guarantee it.

Just please, don't let him amputate.

Yes.

Here, Prof, let me wipe your brow.

Apologies, gentlemen,
there will be no show today.

As you can see,
the professor is overcome with emotion.

Later today,
we'll be amputating Spencer Shaw's arm,

which will be more exciting.
Come back for that.

Really?

Now, I assume you will be maintaining
your strong stance against anaesthetic?

Give it to me, damn you.

Thank you, I won't need you on this one.
You can tend to the professor.

Three trained professionals
are in this room.

One is the patient, the other is me.

And one is a complete fool.

Yes. Quite possibly.

I'm sorry, I can't remember.
Which leg am I cutting off again?

Dawkins...

Surely,
you're not removing his leg.

No. Just removing bullet, unfortunately.

If it was me,
I'd be shaving off his eyebrow.

You make the first incision.

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