All language subtitles for Ripper.Street.S03E05.Heavy.Boots.720p.WEBRiP.x264-FaiLED-eng

- Where is she?
- Who?

My daughter that you had
me believe was dead!

Think on what you do.

There is hell to be raised,
Fred, and I am to raise it.

Where The Ripper did his
work my daughter now follows.

- Who am I?
- You are my daddy.

This is everything you need,

Ronald Capshaw named in the transaction

of U.S. bearer bonds to pound sterling.

I come for you.

I'm shot.

♪ Edmund Reid was a man of Whitechapel ♪

♪ With a vow to protect all
the streets and their people ♪

♪ Dreamed this cursed place
was a place he might save ♪

♪ So raise up your glass ♪

♪ To the fight that he gave ♪

♪ 55 souls, their lives torn away ♪

♪ By a train not of steam
but of fire and thunder ♪

♪ And five to the gallows
on the 14th of May ♪

♪ Of a black-hearted coward
caring only for plunder ♪

♪ How Ed Reid did bleed ♪

- ♪ On the ground black and cold ♪
- There he is, the great Reid!

- ♪ His life flowed out from him ♪
- He lives!

♪ His soul to depart ♪

- Inspector Reid!
- ♪ Till a queen saved her knight ♪

♪ Like some story of old ♪

♪ 'Twas a hand sopped with
grace of the good lady night ♪

♪ Now in Miss Susan's high castle Ed lies ♪

♪ Twixt life and his death,
in a sleep without end ♪

♪ It surely ain't long
before brave Ed Reid dies ♪

♪ Whitechapel, you never
deserved such a friend! ♪

Come on!

♪ Edmund Reid was a man of Whitechapel. ♪

♪ To protect all the
streets and their people. ♪

♪ Dreamed to save a cursed
place which no man can save. ♪

Take a drink Reid!

♪ So raise up your hands ♪

♪ To his Whitechapel grave ♪

Oh, thank you very much!

Anybody else? Oh, thank you. Thank you.

Whoa!

You!

Ugh! ...an equal one of that, guvnor.

Get off me! Aw, right!

That's a pretty face.

Aah!

Teddy, I... I am sorry.

Steady, Walter. Steady, brother.

No, no.

I'm sorry, Mr. B.

Sorry you felt the urge
to test our promise to ya.

Sorry you made us ask twice.

Please, Teddy, it won't happen again.

I know, Mr. B.

I know.

Away we go, my boys.

Know this.

Your good landlord
brings this violence down.

Bet he sees his transgressions now.

Do you not, Mr. Bartleby?

Get off!

Aaah!

Sync & corrections by PetaG
- www.addic7ed.com -

_

You, ah... work today?

No Mr. Reid, they must have need for you.

Fill his boots.

And I've told them before,

they are heavy boots.

Too heavy.

And the boots of your friend also.

I should go,

Whilst it's still early, I mean.

Time was you might have walked out of here

No sort of comment on it.

Time was.

Time will be again, eh?

Once we have declared the truth

And must no longer hide ourselves.

We have agreed, Bennet.

It must be done right.

For it to be right, Rose, it must be done.

He's not your lookout.

He is mine.

Mr. Drake, open this door or
I shall put my foot through it!

Half 7:00 of the morning

and you not yet ready to meet the world.

Consider this an apposite moment
to be getting your bones smunched,

do you?

My hours are my hours, Chief Inspector.

And your duty?

Inspector, a polite invitation.

I have an address I would have you visit.

My thanks, Chief Inspector.

Perhaps another day.

Now, Drake,

Or I shall see Miss
Erskine's name in the news

For altogether different reasons.

I have knocked, I have shouted,

But no reply.

He's either elsewhere or he is insensible.

My intuition leans to the latter.

As does mine, miss.

Oh, no.

I do not care for whatever grief-struck

rationale you will choose, but this...

That is quite the most
revolting thing I have ever seen.

Chief Dictator.

Despite your great age,
you look fine to me.

I pronounce you well.

Be my guest.

Aah!

Aah! Aah!

Ow! Ah! Ah!

Another Miss Hart,
perhaps, er, by the window?

It's better, I think...

Yes, the light is forgiving.

And, how, now you have come to understand

the full extent of Mr.
Capshaw's wickedness,

does it feel to know you had for so long

harboured such a villain?

I am wretched with it.

But some succour is found,

I hope, in the knowledge that the 55

now have their justice.

That he is dead, yes.

The world is better for
the lack of that man.

But that it necessitated
the loss of Mr. Reid...

Loss, madam?

His condition worsens?

It is not improved.

I can only thank God
I found him when I did.

But we will care for
him, as long as we might.

Mr. Reid is my friend.

He and I have both fought or the same

progress in this world of ours.

Advancements which I remain set
on, which Obsidian remains set on.

And nothing, Mr. Best,

not the grievous wounding to the inspector,

nor the terrible crimes we now understand
that gall Capshaw to have committed,

shall deter us.

Hmm.

Just, uh,

one more question, Miss Hart.

- Of course.
- It is only this.

The, uh, bearer bonds,

The transaction of which
brought Mr. Reid to your door.

What of them?

Where are they?

I only wish I knew, Mr. Best.

That intelligence was
scattered to the winds,

along with Mr. Capshaw's brains
and the inspector's buckshot.

And still no soul to come
forward and say, "Mine.

They were my securities
robbed from that locomotive."

'Tis, um... a mystery.

Is it not?

Well, madam,

I have no doubt that our readers
shall thrill, and lament, or course,

to this exclusive witnessing you offer.

For that I offer you my innumerable thanks.

I am at their service Mr. Best.

Dr. Frayn, a simple question for you.

Yes, Chief Inspector?

Is this man currently alive?

He is not dead, sir.

Then we have clarity.

He's shot through the abdomen,
he's shot through the head

He show's no sign of consciousness...

It is why we have made not
attempt to move him elsewhere.

We fight the sepsis in his side,

the bullet impacted the skull...

the swelling there will be intolerable.

Dr. Frayn,

Is he dead?

He's not, sir.

You, American.

Repeat what she just now told us.

He's not dead.

Mr. Drake.

Mr. Drake, you look at him.

Repeat the doctor's prognosis.

He is not dead.

He... is not... dead.

This man now lies here
because his sense of duty

is greater than any other he holds.

You, may argue the toss of such
wisdom, but the fact remains,

Men, women, children, they need justice.

And he sees to it that they get it.

He dies, he does not die,

that fact remains true.

Meantime, Inspector Drake,

You will do him the honour
of not debauching yourself

While his streets burn.

You, yankee.

This man yet lives, but
there are others now dead

awaiting us at Leman Street,

I would have your renegade eyes upon!

Doctor.

Man made into 18 imperial gallons.

Where was he found?

Grace?

That your name, is it? Grace?

It is, Chief Inspector Abberline.

Then answer your inspector.

This barrel. Where was it found?

Uh, Great Pearl Street, Chief Inspector.

Street that had all
that rioting last night,

Rioting our men might have
been out there preventing.

No sign of where he was
from or who he might be?

No, sir.

I shall get myself to Great Pearl,

therefore, see if this man is known there.

_

Lily.

Found ya.

Disturbing you, am I?

Delivery,

from the Black Eagle Brewery.

Who for?

Old Bartleby.

The landlord?

You'll be waiting a good old whiles.

The man is dead.

Dead? How?

As yet to be determined.

He was found jammed inside one of
them barrels out there, however.

Did you know him?

Uh, he took a porter from us.

Our stout also.

He kept his payments regular, did he?

No debts, no trouble?

Accounts. Not my department.

You, miss.

Did you know him?

A wave hello, half a
glass off him, no more.

You are the draper's girl,

Are you not?

Your shop front out there.

All this violence passed through,

Your premises exempted.

What can I say?

Pretty dresses, aren't they?

Beauty is its own best form
of protection, they do say.

Do they?

Well, I do.

Well, let's be about, then.

Sir.

Miss.

Uncle Ben!

Uncle Ben!

Uncle Ben!

Uncle Ben!

Uncle Ben.

Matilda.

What are you...

Mathilda!

Mr. Drake, hello.

Miss Cobden.

Uncle Ben,

we're going to visit my daddy.

Will you come?

Uh, no, Mathilda, I...

Why not?

I have visited already today,

And is he well?

No child, he is not.

Please, Mathilda.

And now we have found each
other, Mr. Drake, a word, perhaps?

Yes.

Mathilda, could you give
Mr. Drake and I a moment?

Mr. Drake, I do not mean to be indelicate,

But with her mother gone,

Should we not, you and I, Edmund...

Mr. Reid's friends, should we not

discuss what would be
best for Mathilda now?

Where, for example, will she live?

Who will take care of her?

Please, miss, I... he's not yet...

Not dead?

No, but...

I do not think she will
want to remain with me.

Inspector, you must agree it
is a conversation worth having.

No, ye... I... yes.

Of course.

Uncle Ben, please,

Do not be so sad.

My daddy will recover.

For do you really believe we will be

returned to each other now,
only to be parted so swiftly?

Come, Mathilda.

Mr. Drake is about his business.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Mathilda.

Teddy.

Walt.

What you been about, Walter?

Been about my work, Ted.

I meant old Bartleby.

Thought it'd please you.

Really, brother?

Please me?

Who said you might kill Bartleby?

It was not sanctioned, Walter.

My brother or not, you
follow orders, my or...

Look at you.

You do see, Teddy.

A time comes

When your sanction is
neither here nor there.

You're sick, Ted.

Too sick to lead us.

This here,

All others, they must know

The day has arrived. There is another

they may look to for their directing.

And what?

You have to prove your steel, do ya?

Show 'em what vengeance means, eh?

But, Teddy, these publicans,

They must know what will befall
them should they cross us.

You of all, Teddy,

You know what it is to be feared,

What it is to take a life for our cause.

Or do you forget what
you did at the feathers?

No.

Not while I'm awake.

Not while I'm dead, neither.

Never again, do you hear?

You leave that boy alone now! Let him be!

All right, lad, all right.

You're with me now.

Thank you, sir.

What is your name?

It is Walter...

Ah... Shipman.

Walter, you come with me. We set you right.

Ah, there's no need for
that. I should head home.

Get myself clean and bound there...

No Walter, my orders... you must
make complaint, we must hear it.

And boots blue.

Two, you say, Mr. Shipman?

As I saw, two.

Yes, Walter?

They thieved from ya.

Never had the chance.

You came upon them too sudden, Constable.

They set about him with
a cooper's froe, Sergeant.

Known to you already?

Never laid an eye on none of 'em.

It did not seem that way to me, Walter.

Seemed to me you knew them all well.

On Jesus Christ himself, I did not
know them from a hole in the ground.

These from the beating you
just now took, are they?

They must be,

sir, yes.

They look older to me, Walter.

Day or so.

These here, older still.

The brawls and riots last night.

They come your way?

Or did you go theirs, Walter?

Whole quarter was a carve-up, Constable,

and a fellow must protect hisself,

Particularly when you and
yours are nowhere to be seen.

Now, then,

that bandaging is good and secure.

Put a field nurse to shame, it would.

Would there be ought else, sir,

or am I to be arrested for my own battery?

Shipman, Shipman...

Shipman.

His name is Bartleby,

Landlord up at The Lamb and Kidney.

Yeah?

Lamb and Kidney, huh?

I might have save you the trip.

A man believes he's seen every
barbarism he might imagine...

but Whitechapel, it will ever astound.

He was dead before he went in.

Save for the breaking of his joints,

there's no abrasions, not
a scratch, not a splinter.

Whatever force was applied
before he went inside,

he, uh... went in without resistance.

And so?

The cause of death?

Time, Hightower.

Time.

Do you forget, Mr. Grimes,

That the men of the Black Eagle
are not to be crossed?

Chief Inspector...

Mr. Reid,

would stay in there,

whilst such work was performed?

He has a stomach for such things, sir.

Past tense, Inspector,

you be careful.

Coffee.

Thanks Drake.

What is that, his lungs?

Yeah.

Good deal steelier than you used to be.

Don't think I haven't noticed.

And they are cut out for why?

Well, by my reckoning, I'd say...

This man was drowned.

Reckoning?

Was he or was he not?

Chief Inspector Abberline!

And so?

You see this here?

Now, the French have a name for that.

Champignon de mousse.

And why should I care what the
bloody French call anything?

Well, a man is never too
old to learn something.

Man's never too old to put his
boot up an American's arsehole.

Now, as drowning occurs,

the, uh, the... the
blood cells in the lungs,

they break down, and a foam is forced

all the way up through the air passage.

Now, this residue, that's what remains.

You hear that?

Mmm.

That's crepitation.

That there is the sound
of air against liquid.

But he's not sodden.

His body shows no signs of being in water.

This is true, Inspector,

and yet the man is drowned.

Mr. Abberline, any thoughts?

He is held down

and it is poured into him.

He is choked by whatever liquid was used.

And the liquid.

What was it?

Take a sniff.

It is beer.

Think to take advantage, do you?

Well, we will not suffer it.

Do you understand?

No, sir.

Not no longer.

No second chances.

No indulgence.

I'm gonna make an example of you, sir.

Day's work made ya thirty, huh?

Risky devil.

Leave the bottle.

Forgive me, Drake.

Oh, here we go.

I, um... I get the sense

that your current temper does not arise

solely from the prone
state of our fallen comrade.

Point in fact, and I
know it disgruntles you,

but I've seen that face before.

Queen of the Costers has you
by your coconuts once more.

Am I right?

Listen, I'm not one to judge,

and I'm not saying this because
I have the manhood loyalty.

I say this on account of the fact that
I've seen you banjaxed by that lady

more than once in your life.

But, lest you forget,
Rose is promised Drake.

Never understood the fuss myself.

Beer.

May as well drink from the river.

Warm, flat.

Useful qualities, however,

when a man wishes to drink of it

in great volume.

Now, Drake.

Listen.

We come to take in a show,

Not perform in one
ourselves. You understand?

Do not worry about me, Captain.

You!

That's you.

Darlin'.

You forgive me, don't you?

For the pig?

Unlikely.

If you are to take
anything else to your bed,

do try to make sure it has a pulse first.

Now, why are you here?

Uh, well, I've come...

Shit.

Excuse me.

I want you to speak to him tonight.

No, Bennet. I told you,
I shall choose the time.

Where, Rose? How?

Not like this.

I'm sorry, Rose, but...

Is there a past between the two of them?

Oh, shit.

"Past" is one word.

And you bring him here,
the two of you in your cups?

This is my brother's whore.
She's my brother's fiancée.

Hey, we're all adults, here,
okay? We go our own way.

Oh, do we, now?

You do something, you do it now.

I fear for us. I fear we
shall lose each other again.

Hello.

- Hi.
- That was so wonderful.

- Oh, thank you.
- You were marvellous.

Oh!

Oh, thank you so much.

Shit.

Mr. Morton.

Inspector.

I, uh...

We're leaving now, brother.

Here, Inspector.

Thank you, Doctor.

Ma'am,

excuse me,

do you believe him, in pain?

I can not say, Inspector.

But, whatever Mr. Abberline might say,

he will die, will he not?

Papers! Get your papers here!

Morning papers!

Obsidian double shooting!

Miss Hart speaks out!

Morning papers!

I'll have one of those.

Morning papers!

Truth behind the Obsidian shooting!

Miss Hart speaks out!

Morning papers!

Morning papers!

His name was Grimes, we are told.

Landlord at the Hogshead,
on Old Queen Street.

Mister Ward of Peace on the Streets,

One more dead publican!

Contusions to his nose
to force his mouth open,

The teeth are chipped where the vessel

was forced into his
mouth, and we got the same

residual foaming around the nose and lips.

Same murdering, same
profession, same presentation.

- If you please, Chief Inspector...
- What, boy?

Might I be excused but two minutes only?

Excused? What?

To tend to your toilet, duchess?

No, sir, but it is material
to what we now discuss.

Material, is it?

Just go.

Now,

will you share what it is

you consider to be quite so material

that we here have to
wait upon your pleasure

as if you are the emissary of
the ottoman emperor himself?

Uh, yes, Chief Inspector.

A lad I found yesterday, down a laneway

off the back of Corbett's Court,

set upon by two others.

I brought him here to make complaint,

patched him up.

But there was something...
he was gobby, sir.

And did you arrest him for
having a big mouth, then?

I did not.

I went looking for him, however.

- And found?
- No record of him.

I did find the lad's brother, however.

He is here represented.

Edward Shipman, assorted counts of affray,

known kin a brother,
Walter, younger by six years,

no other family, orphans.

Walter is the lad you brought here, yes?

Just see below, Mr. Drake.

Yes, Mr. Drake, see below.

Charge of murder three years past,

a Mr. Daniel Parker.

See his profession, Inspector.

Publican.

The Feathers on Underwood Street.

The place burnt to the ground.

Mr. Parker found alone
within, burnt to a char,

but his bones and body still showing signs

of the attack he suffered.

Leg broke with a blunt instrument,

most like made of steel.

The attack he suffered when I found him

was set about by a cooper's froe.

I wonder

if it was this older brother, Edward,

who led the attack on
Walter in the laneway.

Let me see that file.

You ever seen a cooper's
froe at work, ever?

It's a wooden handle, t-shaped blade.

It's used for the splitting of wood.

Man smashes it in with his fist

and the blade is used
to waggle the split free.

These limbs here,

they're all broken at the joints.

The sockets are popped, the sinews spliced,

but not a mark on their skin.

It's the same thing with
this man Grimes also,

both of these men cosied into their housing

with nary a scratch on 'em.

The barrels are built around 'em.

They're drowned in their beer,

their bodies are broken down
to the exact size, and...

and they're coopered into a firkin.

It is skilled work by skilled workmen.

See, Inspector Drake,

Edward Shipman was
apprenticed to the coopers

at the Black Eagle Brewery at 16.

He's worked there ever since.

And the charge against
him? What became of that?

Alibi came forward.

Miss Lily Timson, apprentice to a draper.

Lily Timson.

I met this girl.

I've seen her shop.

It is on Great Pearl Street.

As does The Lamb and Kidney,
Mr. Bartleby here's house.

Streets through which

that unpoliced riot swept two nights past.

And hers the only windows not smashed in.

You, duchess,

find a man.

Send him to Queen Anne Street

to see about the publican Grimes.

All and everything to tell
about his life and work,

have it returned to us here.

You, meanwhile, shall go fetch Miss Timson,

She who finds herself
immune to insurrection.

Yes, Chief Inspector.

Mr. Drake, you and I shall take a trip

to the Black Eagle Brewery

and have a word with Mr. Shipman.

Yes, sir.

You, Captain fancy-pants.

The brew poured down these men.

You have the means to find its nature?

Now, you ask me that
way, I've got the means

to find out about anything you want.

What you ask, gentlemen,
is no simple thing.

One apprentice to be
remembered among so many?

You see here, this cathedral?

Some say the Black Eagle might be

the biggest brew house in the world.

Millers, malters, mashers, lauterers,

Lads to watch the boil,
lads to watch the filtering,

And lads for the coopery.

Many, many hundreds of lads.

And I'm asked to remember one
off the top of my dear old head?

There are records, however.

You keep note of who is apprenticed,

Who is employed?

Well, we must do somewhere.

Fortunate for you,
however, I do know the lad.

Oh.

The lad is known.

This way, gentlemen.

He's not been well these past few months,

So I brung him in here to work with me.

Through here, gents.

Well.

Always a pleasure to put a name to a face,

Eh, Mr. Shipman?

You pack up your work
and get your coat, boy.

Mr. Drake, make his arrest.

Suspicion of murder.

Daniel Parker.

This is raked over again, is it?

Aye, son, it is.

I was nowhere near.

It was proved.

It was lied.

A man like you, a gruff copper.

He took my irons off and set me free.

I was innocent of that,

As I surely am for whatever it is

you now think to accuse of me.

Frederick Grimes, of the Hogshead.

Do you recall him?

I do not.

He's a stranger to me, sir.

John Bartleby.

You knew him, however.

I did.

I met you, sir,

Inside his smashed-up pub.

Was it you who smashed it, Mr. Shipman?

It was not.

Was it your brother Walter smashed it?

I'm not my brother.

I cannot speak for him.

You were seen, however,

giving him a right belting just yesterday.

Brothers do fight, Inspector.

You were trained as a
cooper, however, Mr. Shipman?

I was.

Could you put a man in a
barrel, should you wish it,

without a single scrape on him?

That would be a task, and no mistake,

I would not know where to begin.

In my life,

how many questions have I
asked of how many young fellows

Like you?

Of that I must also declare
myself ignorant, sir.

Then I shall tell you.

Sufficient to know when I am lied to.

No! Sir.

You, man.

Bring me the American now.

Well, remove his irons, will you?

How long

have you been living
with consumption, Teddy?

Six months. Perhaps seven.

Have you not had it treated?

Men have tried.

I'm not far off now, am I, sir?

No, you're not.

And unlikely to find the required strength

to see those men beaten and broken

and housed in their firkins.

Your brother, however.

He has the same training,

training that might put a man in a barrel.

Is that why you beat him?

Has he put his training to work?

How many times must I say it?

He's of age.

I'm not my brother's keeper.

Give us a minute, will you?

Shh, shh, shh, shh.

I have an older brother, you know.

And how is he?

You spend a good deal of
time looking up for example,

So much time that example
becomes your second nature.

You say you're not your
brother's keeper, but you are.

These actions he takes, he only does so

because you have done so before.

And your brother.

Would you betray him?

He betrayed me.

That's not what I asked you, is it, sir?

Miss!

You are Miss Lily Timson?

And you are a policeman?

Miss Timson, if you'll stop, please.

You are to come with me to Leman Street.

There are questions to be answered.

Are there indeed?

On what subject?

All will become clear, miss.

Please, follow me.

All right, Lil?

This one harassing you?

Let us get this blue bottle bagged.

Pubs, Inspector, pubs
and publicans assaulted,

harassed, all and any,

citywide.

If only it was all billy
clubs and bloody knuckles...

If that was the case, I would
never have left Whitechapel.

This here.

Bills and invoicing for all liquid stock

at The Lamb and Flag.

This here the same for the Hogshead,

Grimes' house.

Here, two months past,
Bartleby changes his supplier.

Decides his mild and his pale ale will now

be supplied and delivered from
the Burton-on-Trent Breweries.

Two weeks past, Grimes
makes the same decision.

A man might accordingly lay good money that

the gravely injured Mr. Parker

ordered the same at The Feathers.

And don't you want to know why?

You, American,

whose range of expertise

is so breathtakingly vast
that it now fixes itself

upon the beers and brews
of the United Kingdom.

The beer, that rank soup that you all

pour down yourselves like
it's Victoria's own bath water

and that which was forced
into our two publicans, now,

there was something of note.

It's the water content.

The alkalinity was low.

Soft water, heavy in sulphites.

Not London water.

Not London water,

But Burton water, from the bloody north?

No sulphites better suited
for that mellow fruitfulness

that you enjoy in your brew.

But north country beer
drunk on these city streets,

over which the black eagle
of the London Brewery soars,

Local men might be put out of local work.

And so? What, the young men of the brewery

Had to show the publicans
the error of their ways?

You will order our pale,
not that Northern slop,

or you will know the inside of a barrel.

A body of young men set on
protecting an institution

which gives them more than only their work.

It educates them, gives
them a sense of belonging.

They act to protect both their
product and their traditions.

It's like the army.

Or the police.

But those men in their barrels,

whose limbs were broken
and packed like animals.

That's both fierce brutality
and sharp escalation

from your man Parker at The Feathers.

Maybe this younger
Shipman uses this brutality

to mark himself out for leader.

Mr. Abberline,

Mr. Drake, you must hear this.

Grace has been taken.

Do you know what will befall me, sir,

If they know I have come here and told you?

And yet you are here, miss,
you and your Teddy both.

Now, whatever like, we have him,

he who is not a great many
days longer for this life.

The lad,

PC Grace, he who came to find you?

He's a good lad, a kind lad.

You could tell, I'm sure.

He is, I could.

And you will come here now

because you fear for him.

It is Walter that has taken him, is it not?

He's a cruel one, Mr. Drake.

It's only Teddy who knows
how to keep a lid on him.

But Teddy is here now, so
it's not merely a bruising

he will hand out to our Bobby Grace.

He has killed, Lily, twice.

Awhiles ago,

a long whiles ago, you lied to the police

to protect your Teddy, did you not?

You wish to make amends for your
lies, you might have words with Teddy,

Persuade him it is best
for all that he speak,

tell us where we will find our boy.

Hey.

Now, what he does, he does for you,

to show you that he might also use murder

to protect the Black Eagle's work.

Therefore his acts are your acts.

You're dying, Teddy.

You want to do a good thing before you die?

Here, my men, a blue boy.

A blue boy who now takes
his place in our story.

A blue boy who shall be
spoke of and remembered

for what will now befall him.

I know

you fear what will come
once my Teddy has left us,

but this here, what now comes to pass,

shall offer us safeguards
for a hundred years.

Please.

Please listen.

Do not listen.

I'm not so different to many of you.

Yourself, Walter.

You put me in a barrel, Walter Shipman,

You will gain nothing
but your own destruction!

Destruction?

No destruction, Constable,

But glory!

See?

The others,

it was their own brew I made them swallow.

But you, you shall know a little more

of what we here defend.

It'll be London beer you now drink.

Mr. Snelling!

This a surprise for you, is it?

Of course. What is it you do?

Do?

I come to take my boy back from your boys,

and do not be thinking

that I believe them able
to organise themselves

to such a degree without their
master offering a helping hand!

Aah!

You show us now.

That will do, Walt!

I'll snap his neck.

Teddy.

You're friends with the
police now, are you, brother?

My fight was never with the police,
Walter, and neither is yours.

Who is that lad to deserve our anger?

A murdering, for a brew, for beer?

But you, Teddy.

You set the mark.

You showed us the way.

By ending it off with Parker
at The Feathers, you mean?

Killing a man for not taking our pale ale?

It was never meant, Walt.

I gave him a couple of
hits, yes, but that was all.

The fire.

I knocked over a lantern, didn't I?

Smashed the place up good and proper.

He was all sloshed with
brandy, and, whoosh.

He went up, and I ran.

That is all.

And if we have lived off
of similar affairs since,

that was not my intention.

Time goes on, Walter.

All things pass.

You know the world will always
have need for brewing about.

There is no law that say
the Black Eagle must endure.

All things must pass.

I must.

You must.

This whole building must.

Let him be.

Let him be.

Now!

Grace.

If you hear me, look at me.

Move it!

Get off!

You turncoat, Teddy!

Move.

Captain Jackson, I'm not sure I have

ever been sent for before now.

For the life of me, I cannot
think why I have responded.

Mimi, do you think we
might forgo the backchatter?

Then why on earth am I here?

This day,

I feel the hand of death upon me.

I look back into the past,

I see what made me, and I just...

I feel sick with it.

And I would like to...

rest my head on the lap of someone who...

s-s-someone...

God damn it!

You are the only thing I have in this world

to take the lead from my limbs.

- Well, this is a day for firsts.
- Please,

you can use that tongue of yours

to whip strips from me every
other hour we pass together,

but please just tell me,

am I a fool to rest this hope in you?

Fool, certainly.

But not one misled.

Kill him!

Hello?

Mr. Reid.

Edmund.

Sir.

Who am I?

Sync & corrections by PetaG
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