All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S08E17.Election.Day.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.h264-jAh.eng

I will do immediately.
Thank you.

Crabtree! In here!

- Sirs.
- Pack up your desk.

- Excuse me?
- And buy a suit.

Davis at Station
House Number Three

wants you as his detective.

You start in two weeks.

Sir, truly?

Detective Crabtree.

Congratulations.

Detective Crabtree.
I like the sound of that.

No time to celebrate.
We've got to get to the polls.

Margaret's waiting.

Oh. Sir, I already voted...
In the advance polls,

in case I was detained
on an investigation.

That's what
advance polls are for.

Come along. The
polling station's is this way.

Good day,
Dr. Nesbitt, Mr. Marter.

Dr. Ogden.

What ever are you
ladies doing here?

The same as you, gentlemen.

Not quite the same thing.

We are here to cast
our own votes, after all.

I hear it's to be
a tight race today.

Yes, between Mr. Marter and I.

May the best man win.

The line is back here.

Why wait in line when
you can be first in?

They'll get their
turn soon enough.

Voting is open.

- Shall we?
- We have a busy day ahead.

Busier than expected.

As of last night, we have 26
committed voters for Margaret Haile.

Twenty-six men in support
of women's suffrage.

No matter how many votes we get,

we're showing other
women it can be done.

So, although Mr. Marter
is the incumbent...

And a Conservative.
Didn't I vote for him last time?

No, he's since left
the Conservatives

and is running as
an independent.

- Independent.
- Mm-hmm.

I quite like the sound of that.

Perhaps he had enough of
backroom party shenanigans.

Don't be silly, Thomas.

He's pouting because he didn't
get the Senate appointment.

On the other hand,

the new Conservative candidate,
Dr. Nesbitt, is a scoundrel.

Well, that just leaves
the lady candidate.

Dr. Ogden will be chuffed.

Any woman who manages her
life right doesn't need suffrage.

I'm perfectly happy to leave the
whole dirty business to my husband.

I've decided to support Drs.
Ogden and Grace in their cause.

A wasted vote in my books.

We're voting for
the party, as usual.

Isn't that right, Thomas?

Wait there, Margaret.

- Excuse me.
- Toronto Constabulary.

The detective had
the right idea, sir.

Voting will have to wait.

Constabulary.
Move aside, please.

I heard George is
moving up in the ranks.

Ah, yes.

Detective Crabtree,

would you care to assess
the scene of the crime?

I would indeed, sir.

How very odd.

Yes. It appears our victim
is wearing a fake mustache.

Dr. Ogden and I saw two
men entering the polling station

wearing red ties.

I can't be sure of his face,
but I remember the tie.

He's still warm,
despite the morning chill.

Could very well be
one of the men you saw.

He was strangled, it would seem,

and with no small
amount of force.

His name is
Plantagenet McCarthy.

All right, then, Detective.

How do you think the investigation
should proceed from here?

Well, sir, as we already have constables
interviewing witnesses in the area,

I would dispatch
another constable...

In this case, myself...

to dig into background information,
for our victim, Mr. McCarthy.

Then, as detective...

In this case, you, sir...

I would probably proceed to the
victim's last known whereabouts.

Sounds about right.

- Indeed.
- Off we go.

Thank you, Dr. Grace.

Good morning, Margaret.

It's a fine day to
make history, Lillian.

Margaret, I don't
know what happened.

One of our supporters just told me

that your name
isn't on the ballot.

How can that be?

I'll telephone
Clara Brett Martin.

Get word to our supporters
at other polling stations.

It's not in my
power to stop voting.

I assure you, Margaret Haile is
a properly registered candidate.

- If her name isn't on the ballot...
- It's not on the ballot.

Then none of these
votes are valid.

You'll need to take up your
complaint with Mr. Snipe,

our returning officer.

Can I help you, ladies?

I certainly hope so.

Mr. Snipe, we have
no intention of leaving.

Then I will be forced
to call the police.

Detective Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary.

May I help you?

Take your hands
off the ladies, sir.

Margaret Haile has
been left off the ballots.

Yet men continue to vote.

I am the returning officer,

and I am not prepared
to stop the vote.

If the ballots are incorrect,
sir, is it not your fault?

No.

Let me see what I can do, sir.

On another matter, we need the list of
all the men who voted in the last hour

as well as the names of your staff.

You will need to
talk to my clerks.

Do you recall seeing
two men wearing red ties?

They came in together.

Uh, yes. Yes, I do.

They were the first
and second to vote.

Alexander Cuddy and
Plantagenet McCarthy.

Will that be all, sir?

Yes. Thank you.

It appears our victim's friend
was one Alexander Cuddy

of 18 Suffolk Street.

I'll have him brought in.

You get over to
McCarthy's place.

See what you can find.

That's wonderful news, George.

You've wanted this for so long.

I was starting to think
it would never happen.

I can't believe I'll be out
of this uniform forever.

Can you imagine me going
off to work in a nice dapper suit?

And just think of it.

You'll be the one
solving the crimes

and catching the murderers

and making sure
families see justice.

It's all on your shoulders.

Now that you mention it,
I hope I'm up to the task.

Of course you are.

All your experience and smarts.

W-What if I'm not as capable
without Detective Murdoch's help?

Put that thought out of your
head, George. You'll be fine.

And besides, you'll have
a Crabtree of your own.

Edna.

I have to get back.

Well, meet me for lunch.
I'll take you out to celebrate.

I'd love that.

Clara. Thank God you're here.

Julia, Margaret, what
a disappointment!

What do the election
laws say about this?

They don't seem to
account for such a mistake.

- It's never happened before.
- Not the history we wanted to make.

Here's the
returning officer now.

Mr. Snipe, this is
Clara Brett Martin,

Miss Haile's lawyer.

Mr. Snipe, I assure you

all of Miss Haile's
candidacy papers are in order,

and as such, she has every
right to appear on the ballot.

That may be, but I
won't disrupt the voting

for the sake of a
stunt candidate.

If you can't make this right,

I will petition a judge
to order an injunction.

You can try what you like.

Miss Haile was
never going to win,

so I very much doubt
that this particular error

makes any real
difference either way.

Good day, ladies.

An injunction it is.

I'll be back as
quickly as I can.

If our supporters can't vote,
then no one should.

What do you have in mind, Julia?

Oh, William.

Murdoch.

Murdoch!

Hey.

Terrence Meyers.

What are you doing here, Meyers?

The much more compelling question
is what are you doing here, Murdoch?

I'm investigating the death
of one Plantagenet McCarthy.

Plantagenet McCarthy is dead?

Yes. We found his
body this morning.

This was on his person.

What kind of gas was that?

It's harmless.
Or so I've been told.

Why did you booby-trap
McCarthy's apartment?

Murdoch, McCarthy was a spy,

one of my operatives, on
a very important mission.

Of course he was.

I want to see the body.

He was strangled with a cord

about a quarter-inch in diameter.

I believe the killer used
a sisal twine dyed green.

I retrieved fibers
from the wound.

You can take a look.

Where would I find his
personal effects, Doctor?

Right over there.

Detective, if that will be all?

Yes. Thank you.

What's this, Murdoch?

He was wearing a false mustache.

Huh.

A bit of spycraft. Hm.

This is an unfortunate
turn of events.

I personally recruited
McCarthy out of McGill University.

Trained him myself.

Perhaps that would
explain his fate.

I need you to help
me find his killer.

Ah, yes.

I imagine it's a
matter of national--

National security.

McCarthy's latest mission was to flush
out a German spy operating in Toronto.

His death,

while regrettable,

proves the enemy spy is close.

Why would a German
spy be in Toronto?

The Germans are
extremely interested

in anyone capable of
supplying arms to Great Britain.

So your spy tasked
with monitoring

international
movement of munitions

found time to vote in
our election this morning?

Spies fulfill their civic duties
as well as everyone else.

We're gonna need a list of
everyone that was at that polling station

- when McCarthy was there.
- Already done.

Excellent.

I'm glad you've taken my advice

on gathering intelligence
seriously, Murdoch.

Emily, come here.

Oh! How exciting.

- What are we doing exactly?
- Now, see here, Dr. Ogden.

I've done my best to
tolerate your crusade.

Oh, that's very considerate
of you, Mr. Marter.

I think it's time for you ladies
to go back to your knitting.

Tell me, Dr. Nesbitt...

What would you do if your
name were left off the ballot?

My dear, my name could
never be left off the ballot.

I have the power of
the party behind me.

You have all the
power, Dr. Nesbitt.

And that is precisely
the problem.

- Bravo.
- Well said.

Um, what are you all doing?

We're protesting.

- Why?
- This lady here, Margaret Haile...

- Hello.
- Hello.

Is running for office,

but they left her
name off the ballot.

That sounds unfair.

May I join your protest?

I'm sorry. Not today.

But thank you very
much, young lady.

You're exactly why
all of this matters.

Germans?
Connected to our victim?

Murdoch and I are just about
to match your list of voters

with the profile I have
on one Wolfgang Ketzer,

a German spy known to
be operating in Toronto.

And you believe this Ketzer
was at the polling station.

Care to share why?

Well, because my
man, McCarthy, is dead.

Obviously killed by
this conniving hun.

You don't know that.

For all we know, Alexander
Cuddy could be our man.

He and McCarthy were
seen together at the polls

shortly before McCarthy's death.

And they were both
wearing matching red ties.

Cuddy is not our man.

You seem very sure of that.

I'm very certain.

Care to share why, Mr. Meyers?

Gentlemen, I am at
liberty to share with you

the information I
have on Ketzer...

Mid-40s, stands
over 6 foot tall.

Beautiful day, lads.

- What have you, George?
- Ah. Sir.

Plantagenet McCarthy.

Studied both French and
German at McGill University.

Lived there in Montreal for
some time as well as Quebec City.

Both cities with
munitions factories.

Also, sir, somebody once
tried to kill him, but he survived.

- Indeed?
- About 20 years ago.

Sounds like he's led quite
an adventurous life, sir.

Ah. Oh, good.

Potential suspects from the
polling station have arrived.

Thank you, George.

No.

No.

Certainly not.

No.

Perhaps.

This one.

Sir, what is your name?

John Smith.

Ah. Mr. Smith.

We've detained you to ask
you about your recent visit

to Polling Station Number Five.

Did you speak to any
other voters there?

"Good morning."
"Nice day for it."

That sort of thing.

I voted and left.

John Smith is not
your real name, is it?

No. It's Johannes Schmidt.

But Canadians can't
pronounce that, so I changed it.

Murdoch,

I will be taking this man into the
custody of the Canadian government.

We apparently have some
catching up to do, don't we, Schmidt?

All right.

Mr. Schmidt,

may I see your hands?

Thank you.

Considering the weapon

and the force required
to strangle someone,

I would expect to see some
marks on the killer's hands.

Any spy worth his
salt would wear gloves

when executing a man.

Any spy worth his salt

wouldn't speak German
and expose himself.

He exposed himself
precisely to hide himself.

Some things you have
yet to learn, Inspector.

That poor bugger's
neither a killer nor a spy.

I agree.

So let's find the real one.

I hope you weren't
expecting something fancier.

Edna, it's perfect.

Nothing could be more perfect
than this moment right now.

And on a detective's salary,

I'll be able to afford
fancier places.

And fancier hot dogs.

Oh, the fanciest hot dogs.

But I could afford
to buy a house.

I could afford to get married.

Is that meant to be
a proposal, George?

Well, it wouldn't be...

I was just kidding. I didn't...

I didn't mean you'd actually...

actually...

George?

Edna...

will you do me the honor
of becoming my wife?

Yes.

Yes, I will.

Gentlemen, it is
your right to vote!

Do not let those who
do not share that right

deprive you of yours!

Sir, you will not pass.

This is exactly the
farcical nonsense

that we would expect
from women in politics.

If our legitimate
voters can't be counted,

the results from this
entire riding will be invalid.

Our point precisely.

We're as eager to find
a solution as you are.

In the meantime, if you
continue to incite this crowd,

the consequences
will be on your hands.

- Move aside.
- Stand back, sir.

I want my vote.

Uh, didn't I see
you this morning?

You've already voted.

Constable, this man is
attempting to vote illegally.

Well done, Emily.

Red tie.

Constable, take this man to
Detective Murdoch immediately.

Alexander Cuddy.

Matin Rapovski.

And Roger Gaskin.

Which of these
is your real name?

Alexander Cuddy.

Alexander Cuddy.
Well, then, Mr. Cuddy,

you are a plugger.

You assume the identities
of legitimate registered voters.

You cast their vote for the
candidate of your choosing.

You will be charged with fraud.

And that may not
be the extent of it.

What do you mean?

Where and when did you last
see Plantagenet McCarthy?

Who?

Your friend
Plantagenet McCarthy.

Oh. Right. We went to the polls together,

then we went our separate ways.

You got him, too?

Mr. McCarthy was
found dead this morning,

right around the corner
from the polling station.

That's terrible.

Did you have any reason to
argue with Mr. McCarthy yourself?

No, no. We were friends.

- Who'd want to kill Burt?
- Burt?

Yes. You see, his name
isn't McCarthy. It's Larsen.

Burt Larsen.

Bloody Meyers.
He lied to us again.

We should have expected as much.

So the victim,
this Burt Larsen,

was a plugger who used a spy's
name by mistake and got plugged for it.

A bit unfortunate, that.

Sir, he was strangled, not shot.

Yes, Murdoch. I know.
It was a joke.

One suit in the wardrobe.

One shirt.

Seems like a
typical bachelor's flat.

What exactly are we looking for?

Some sort of clue as to the
real Plantagenet McCarthy.

Why don't we just ask Meyers?

Oh. Right.

Pipe that's never been used.

No bedsheets.

Sir.

Meyers has sent
us on a fool's errand.

Are you saying what
I think you're saying?

Plantagenet
McCarthy doesn't exist.

Stop the vote!

Stop the vote.

I have an injunction from
Judge Gerald Ramsey.

The vote is to be halted
until new ballots are available.

And these ballots must
contain all candidates,

specifically Miss
Margaret Haile.

Well done, Clara. Thank you.

This polling station is closed

pending the arrival
of the corrected ballots

approximately...
six hours from now.

Now, now... Gentlemen,
please stay a moment longer.

I'm certain we can reach
some sort of arrangement.

Six hours?

It is no small undertaking

to print the number
of ballots required.

In six hours, the election
will be all but over.

Well, ladies, you have
succeeded at your goal.

You will have a clean vote...

At the expense
of any vote at all.

You knew the body in the morgue

was not Plantagenet McCarthy.

I spent my entire morning
chasing shadows at your behest.

- I demand an explanation, Mr. Meyers.
- Well...

I never did say
McCarthy was real. I just...

neglected to
tell you he wasn't.

All right. Look.

It was a simple means to an end.

The German spy is real.

McCarthy was
created to flush him out.

Clearly, it worked.

Were you not the
least bit curious

as to who had adopted
your fake spy's persona?

I was... until I saw the body.

The red tie
explained everything.

You knew right away
that was a plugger.

Why not tell me that instant?

Because you would have
wasted your time investigating him.

"Him" has a name... Burt Larsen.

And you're right, Mr. Meyers.

I would have investigated him,

which is what I
intend to do now.

You're nothing if not
predictable, Murdoch.

Look. Take my word for it...

You'll forgive me if I don't.

Whoever killed your victim
was in the polling station

and heard him say
the name McCarthy.

This murder has nothing to
do with Burt Larsen the plugger

and everything to do with
Plantagenet McCarthy the spy.

And I have the
killer in custody.

- You mean Schmidt?
- I mean Schmidt.

And I suppose you have
some proof of his guilt.

The interrogation
is far from over.

Thank you anyway. I do
appreciate your support.

That's three more
voters we've lost.

Their shift is starting, and
they won't be able to return.

Keeping the polls closed is skewing
the results as much as if we stayed open.

But a fair election
won't be possible

as long as Margaret's name
is absent from the ballot.

Why don't we write it in?

On every ballot until
the new ones arrive.

Of course.

The injunction only stated

that the candidates'
names be on the ballot.

It didn't specify how
they come to be there.

Surely Mr. Snipe
can have no objection.

So, who among us has
the best penmanship?

George, how are you coming
along on Burt Larsen's background?

Uh, sir, I've found nothing
too out of the ordinary.

He was a hardworking
man, unmarried.

Spent most of his evenings
at the pub talking politics.

By most accounts,
he was well liked.

And he was the leader of
this group of pluggers, then?

No, sir. He was recruited

by a man named Duncan Hogan.

- Bring him in.
- Uh, already done, sir.

You know, soon you'll be
asking a constable to do the same.

My men were doing Toronto
and the province a great service.

Marter has to win.

I tried to tell him how we could help him,
but he wished to run an honest campaign.

And you disagree.

There are always pluggers.

If we didn't do it for Marter,

Nesbitt would have
an unfair advantage.

Mr. Hogan, you are to
be charged with fraud.

And you're going to be banned
from voting, for the next seven years.

I'm prepared to sacrifice
myself for the greater good.

That's very noble.

But I'm not
interested in rhetoric.

I am interested in Burt Larsen.

Of course. Poor man.

Do you know of anyone who may
have harbored ill will toward him?

He was well liked in general.

Though he did rub the Conservative
party the wrong way after Marter left them,

especially Dr. Nesbitt.

The Conservative candidate.

Larsen wrote him letters,

hoping to persuade him
to drop out of the race.

What was Dr. Nesbitt's response?

Nesbitt threatened to kill him.

Julia, this gentleman
heard me speak earlier

and was moved
to give us his vote.

If we've changed even one man's
mind, then we've already won.

There you are, fine sir.

A mere five minutes and
we'll get you back to the pub.

Mr. Nesbitt. A word.

Detective.

Surely those suffragettes
have not lodged

yet another complaint.

Uh, no. I wonder...
Do you know a Burt Larsen?

What has that man
said about me now?

He was murdered this morning,
just a few feet from here.

The dead man was Mr. Larsen?

Hmm.

Well, that will put
a stop to the letters.

That's a rather
callous response.

He sent me a letter
every single day,

haranguing me to
drop out of the race.

Ridiculous.

You felt threatened.

Goodness, no.
I felt annoyed.

Were you aware that Mr. Larsen
was part of a plugging scheme

to benefit your
opponent, Mr. Marter?

It wouldn't surprise me.

You were also heard
to have threatened him.

Detective, you can't believe
that I would kill someone

over a handful of votes.

A handful of votes could
make all of the difference.

As I understand it,

this is one of the most hotly
contested races in the province.

Oh, I fancy I will
squeak through just fine.

Nevertheless, where
were you this morning

between 8:00 and 8:30?

I was here, of course,

surrounded by my
campaign supporters.

Ask your wife, Detective.

I was speaking with her.

Thank the Lord. The
reprinted ballots have arrived.

I'm not sorry that's done.

Nor me.

I haven't written that
much since school.

Mr. Snipe wishes to thank
you for your service, ladies.

You may now leave the building.

Not until we are assured
that all the ballots are correct

and inclusive of
every candidate.

Mr. Snipe, stop.

What on earth is the matter now?

Mr. Snipe, was the same twine
used on the original ballots?

Yes.

It's specific to
official ballots,

to ensure that no illegal
substitutions can be made.

Right. Who here had
access to that twine?

I suppose anyone
who came inside.

Mr. Lowrie,

where did you put the discarded
twine from this morning?

In the waste basket, of course.

Mr. Trimble?

It's not here.

Then the killer must have
been inside this polling station.

Right. Which would mean
Mr. Meyers was right after all.

Well, Mr. Meyers, it appears
that you were right after all.

And I imagine that Mr. Schmidt
has confessed by now.

Schmidt is, unfortunately,
just an ordinary citizen.

The murder was
committed by a German.

Just not... that German.

If this is indeed the work of a spy,

we need information.

Everything you know.

And do not say the
words "national security."

We intercepted a
message some time ago.

Our top men broke
the complex cipher,

and we determined that the
coded address was 8 Beech Street,

obviously Wolfgang
Ketzer's lair.

When we arrived, we found
nothing but a Chinese laundry.

Clever ducks.

May I see this message?

Gentlemen, I must
warn you both...

You place yourself
in great peril

by pursuing this canny
and unpredictable man.

Mr. Meyers, your your top men

may have been looking
for a cipher that wasn't there.

How so?

52 Selby. Plain as day.

We would never have
considered something so simplistic.

Fantastic.

Come along, Murdoch.

Follow my lead, Murdoch.

It's is my game
you're playing in now.

I must stop underestimating
these Germans.

And now we wait.

Empty save for a pair of shoes.

No bed sheet.

And a pipe that
hasn't been smoked.

Have a seat, Murdoch.

He'll be along presently.

No. No, I-I don't
believe he will.

You see, much like your
Plantagenet McCarthy,

this Wolfgang Ketzer
does not, in fact, exist.

Impossible.

Oh, this is too much.
Of course he doesn't exist.

I should have known.

So Burt Larsen was
killed for being Burt Larsen,

seeing as Plantagenet McCarthy
was never anything more than

a figment of Mr. Meyers'
vivid imagination.

With a name like that,
we should've known all along.

- Mm.
- Oh, you flatter me, Inspector.

Even I couldn't come
up with such a name.

Mr. Meyers, do you mean to
say that you based your fake spy

on a real person?

Of course.

Well, it's standard procedure.

We take a dead man,
in this case McCarthy,

we remove his death
certificate from the record, and...

voilà.

Did this not strike you at any
point as pertinent information?

Of course not.

The original McCarthy
is wholly irrelevant

to the capture of a German spy.

But completely relevant

to the murder of a man
assuming his name.

Yeah. Well...

the nation thanks
you for your service.

As much as it pains me
to say this, Mr. Meyers,

we now need you.

Well,

Murdoch, if it
were anyone else.

But how can I say no to you?

Hmm?

- Dr. Nesbitt.
- I concur.

- Mr. Marter.
- I concur.

- Miss Margaret Haile.
- I concur.

That concludes the
extent of the ballots.

Was the count conducted
to your satisfaction?

- It was.
- It was.

It was.

Well, gentlemen, I wish
you both the best of luck.

Whomever wins, you can say
he did so with the utmost fairness.

As trying as this day has
been, I will grant you ladies that.

A fair election was
always our intention.

And I, too, am not above
acknowledging your efforts,

as much as I
abhor the theatrics.

We will take that
as a compliment.

This seal will be unbroken
until the ballots arrive

at the central elections
office to be counted.

Thank you, candidates and
scrutineers, for your attention.

Well, that's that, then.

Congratulations, ladies.
We survived.

Oh, we did more than
survive. We triumphed.

Let's go drink
champagne. My treat.

I won't say no to that.

Plantagenet McCarthy.

These are the details
we know of his life so far,

though I suspect most
of it is less than true.

Ah. Well, let's see.

McGill University.
That's all me.

As is Quebec City.

I certainly made his
life much more exciting.

I doubt the real
man ever left Ontario.

When did he die?

1893, '94, thereabouts.

Natural causes.

And what about this
attempt on McCarthy's life?

What was the circumstance?

Assailant attacks McCarthy outside
of a Mimico church wielding a knife.

Not my doing.

Mimico?

It's far too pedestrian.

Stands to reason
that if someone wanted

McCarthy dead 21 years ago,
he likely still would.

Yes, sir, but if the man was
in the polling station today,

surely he would have
seen that Burt Larsen

wasn't the Plantagenet
McCarthy he once attacked.

It was 21 years ago.

Larsen's about the right age.

He was wearing a false mustache
and using McCarthy's name.

Is there a description of
McCarthy's assailant in that file?

Well, I admit...
I-I'm intrigued.

Witnesses describe
a man in his 30s.

Then he's in his 50s now.

Who on our list of suspects
from the polling station fits that age?

Only one...
Vernon Snipe.

Excellent.

Let's have a conversation
with Mr. Snipe, shall we?

Oh, I believe we can handle
it from here, Mr. Meyers.

After all, it's no longer a
matter of national security.

- Goodbye!
- Good night!

Uh, gentlemen, I'm afraid the
polls have long since closed.

Vernon Snipe,

you are to accompany
us to the station house.

- Now?
- Yes, now.

You're a suspect in a
murder investigation.

Gentlemen, please.

I have a responsibility to deliver
these ballots to the elections office.

I-I can do that
for you, Mr. Snipe.

You heard the gentleman.
Hand over the box and let's go.

Mr. Lowrie.

Your gloves.

What about them?

Where were you between
8:00 and 8:30 this morning?

I was inside, of course.

Mr. Snipe?

I was outside for the first
half-hour, monitoring the line.

Mr. Trimble?

You left me alone

for 10 whole minutes
right at the start of the day.

You didn't even apologize.

Don't even think
about it, Mr. Lowrie.

You're under arrest for murder.

Plantagenet McCarthy

rented out the back room
of my father's shop

in Mimico to run a
bookmaking business.

My father was sent
to prison for five years,

punished for McCarthy's crimes.

We lost the shop.

My family was disgraced.

Your father attacked
McCarthy in 1881.

Yes.

My father...

died soon after.

They said it was

some illness he
caught in prison. But...

I swear he died of shame.

You were just a child.

So when a man roughly the right age

presented himself as Plantagenet
McCarthy at the polling station,

you assumed him to be the
man who ruined your father.

Who else would have
that wretched name?

So you grabbed the twine,

followed him outside,

and you killed him.

Just as I'd imagined
doing many times before.

Mr. Lowrie,

Plantagenet McCarthy
died several years ago.

The man you assumed
to be him was a plugger

named Burt Larsen.

He was innocent...

much like your father.

- Good night.
- Good night.

So it was the clerk all along.

Never would have guessed it.

You're welcome, of course.

If I hadn't made up the spy,

you would have
never found your killer.

If you hadn't made
up the spy, Mr. Meyers,

there would have been no killer.

Oh, such a wet blanket.

If you'll excuse me,
I'm to meet my wife.

Of course.

In all of this excitement, I forgot to
congratulate you on your marriage.

- Thank you. We're very happy.
- Uh-huh.

Quite a pistol, that Dr. Ogden.

Election agitating and all.

Puts me in mind
of a noble salmon,

swimming upstream
against the current.

Do you fish, Murdoch?

- No.
- Hm.

That's a shame.

So you're marrying
a copper, then?

I guess I'll have to be
on my best behavior.

As you should be, copper or no.

We'll get a house with a garden.

Maybe a brother
or a sister for you.

We'll be a proper family.

No sister, okay?

A brother would be
all right. No sister.

Well, cross that bridge
when we come to it.

- Do you want some tea, George?
- Please.

And, uh, if you're not
gonna finish your cake...

Can I?

Father?

- Hello, son.
- Hi!

I thought you were dead.
They said you were killed.

They were wrong,
then, weren't they?

Here you go. Take my
bag into the bedroom.

There's a good lad.

Edna.

You look exactly as I left you.

A policeman?

Has there been some trouble?

- No. N-Not that I--
- This is Constable Crabtree.

He's been a great help to us.

Sergeant Archibald Brooks.

Thank you, Constable.

I think I can manage
from here on in.

Yes. Of course.

Here it is.

North Toronto.

The seat goes to Dr. Nesbitt
and the Conservatives.

But it was close.

The plurality over Marter
was only 232 votes.

Who cares who won?
How did Margaret do?

Miss Margaret Haile.

79 votes.

79!

Oh, that's a great many
more than we anticipated.

- That's tremendous!
- I'm so proud of all of us.

Let's take a photograph
with the newspaper.

Oh.

Um, excuse me. Miss Haile?

May I please have
your autograph?

Oh, how lovely of you to ask.

You do know, young lady,
that I didn't win the election.

I know.

One day I'd like to
run in an election, too.

Well, you never know.
One day you may just win.

To whom should I address this?

My name is Agnes.
Agnes MacPhail.

Would you mind?

- Thank you.
- Ready?

Here. Hold the newspaper.

Agnes, why don't you hold it?

Oh.

Smile, everyone.

To our future.

Thank you for
meeting me, George.

How is Simon?

He's happy.

His father's back.

How are you?

- They told me he was dead, George.
- Edna...

I mean, one minute I'm to be Mrs.
George Crabtree. The next minute...

I'm back to being
Mrs. Archibald Brooks. I...

- I don't know what to do, George.
- The only thing you can do, Edna.

Your husband has
come back to you.

Simon's father
has returned to him.

Your family is whole again.

- George--
- Edna, go back to your life and be happy.

I want you to be happy.

Goodbye, George.

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