All language subtitles for Murdoch Mysteries - S08E17 - Election Day - [BD][1080p][x265 10-bit][AAC 5.1]_Track05

Goodbye, George.

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.

[ Laughing ] 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.

DR. GRACE: Come on.
The polling station's 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?

[ Indistinct conversations]

Wait there, Margaret.

- Excuse me.
- Toronto Constabulary.

The detective had
the right idea, sir.

Voting will have to wait.

CRABTREE: 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.

[Clears throat]

- DR. GRACE: How very odd.
- CRABTREE: 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.

DR. GRACE:
He was strangled, it would seem,

and with no small amount
of force.

His name is
Plantagenet McCarthy.

MURDOCH:
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.

MAN: 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?

BRACKENREID: 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.

EDNA:
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?

[Squeak, hissing]

Oh, William.

[Thud]

MAN:
[ Echoing] 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.

[ Steam whistle blows
in distance]

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.

HAILE:
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.

- DR. OGDEN: Bravo.
- WOMAN: Well said.

- MAN: Go home.
- 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.

Ma)' I join your protest?

DR. OGDEN:
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.

BRACKENREID:
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.

BRACKENREID:
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.

Jndeed?
- About 2O 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.

[ Speaking German ]

[ Speaking German ]

John Smith is not
your real name, is it?

No.

M. 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.

[Grunts]

Well done, Emily.

DR. GRACE:
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.

On.
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.

[ Chuckles ]
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?

On.
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!

[Crowd murmuring]

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?

SNIPE:
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.

MURDOCH:
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...l never did say
McCarthy was real.

I just neglected to tell you
he wasn't.

All right.
Look

[ Exhales deeply]
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.

[Sighs]

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.

HAILE:
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.

[ Sighs]
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.

SNIPE:
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?

BRACKENREID:
52 Selby. Plain as day.

[ Chuckles ]

We would never have considered
something so simplistic.

Fantastic.

Come along, Murdoch.

[Man laughing in distance]

Follow my lead, Murdoch.

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

I must stop underestimating
these Germans.

And now we wait.

[Clears throat]

Empty save for a pair of shoes.

No bedsheet.

And a pipe
that hasn't been smoked.

Have a seat, Murdoch.

He'll be along presently.

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

You see, much like
your Plantagenet McCarthy,

this Wolfgang Ketzer does not,
in fact, exist.

[ Chuckles ]

Impossible.

Oh, this is too much.

Of course he doesn't exist.

I should have known.

[ Chuckles ]

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 have 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 voile.

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.

Iconcun

Mr. Marter.

Iconcun

Miss Margaret Haile.

LOWRIE:
lconcun

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.

SNIPE:
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.

[Laughs]

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.

MEYERS: ls there a description
of McCarthy's assailant

in that file?

Well, I admit --
l-l'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.

MEYERS:
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.

[Clicks tongue]

- WOMAN: Goodbye!
- MAN: 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.

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

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

Mr. Lowrie.

Your gloves.

LOWRIE:
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 1O 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.

Yeah. 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.

- WOMAN: Good night.
- MAN: 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?

[ Chuckles ]

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...

-[ Door opens]
- Can I?

Father?

- Hello, son.
-[ Laughs] Hi!

[Laughs]

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

ARCHIBALD: 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.

[ Door opens]

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!
-l'm so proud of all of us.

Let's take a photograph
with the newspaper.

Oh.

Urn, 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.

L...l 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.