All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S14E08.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

♪

[ Indistinct chatter ]

Murdoch. Where's Higgins?

Uh, we -- I haven't seen him
in a day or two, sir.

Suffering an illness, I believe.

BRACKENREID: Still?

I'll tell you what.

He'd better be knocking
on Heaven's bloody door!

Gentlemen, I beg your pardon.

My name is Roderick H. Roderick.

I've been sent to collect
the detective

from Station House Number 4.

- Ah, we -- That is -- us.
- Are...they.

What's this about?

Uh, I cannot disclose
any details.

Please, your help
is needed most urgently.

For what exactly?

There's been a murder.

Henry?

Oh. Detective!

Uh, Detective.

What is going on?

Isn't this the old
Newsome estate?

Uh, it is!
They bought it back.

I'll need to see your papers.

What papers?

Your visas?

Your permission
into the country?

What country?

Their presence has been
requested by the king.

HIGGINS: Let's see here.
Uh, sir!

You're really not -- Sir!

I-I'm, you know, I'm sure
it's all in order. I...

MURDOCH: Rupert Newsome.

King Rupert.

The First.

Thank you for coming, Detective.

A great tragedy
has befallen our nation.

What nation?

This one. Newsomimico.

"New South Mimico.

Uh, it -- it's
pronounced Newsomimico.

You elide the "th".

I know.

It leaves one lacking
the capacity for speech.

Something like that.

[ Regal music playing ]

Why is there music?

Oh, oh, oh, oh! Oh!
Our national anthem.

It is that time.

This will only take a moment.

♪ Over great Mimico ♪

♪ With our heads high we go ♪

♪ I am the king ♪

♪ Tall strong
and handsome king ♪

♪ Noble and valiant king ♪

♪ We all adore the king ♪

♪ I am the king! ♪

[ Applause ]

MAN: Long live the king!

Mr. Newsome, you can't just
simply make your own nation.

Why not?

We have our own constitution.

We have a border,
enforced by our

department of justice
and security.

- Henry Higgins?
- Mm-hmm!

We have a currency.

Oh, and, soon, we will have
our own postage

featuring the visage
of the Queen.

Uh, dearest?

- Oh.
- Your hand.

Oh. Bother.

Oops.

Mr. Newsome, what makes
a nation is recognition.

By other nations.

I highly doubt any nation will
ever recognize New South Mimico.

Therefore, it is not a nation.

Allow me to introduce
Agnesa Virrr-

vrrr -- Vrioni,

visiting dignitary from Albania.

- Miss Vrioni.
- Hm?

Do you recognize Newsomimico
as a sovereign nation?

I do.

Well, borders aren't real.

They're arbitrary divisors
of people,

but insomuch
as we acknowledge them,

we may as well acknowledge
Mr. Newsome's.

Watts, he can't make
his own country.

It seems he already has.

Now, was there not
some mention of a murder?

His name was Dickie Fanshaw.

He was my friend.

A close friend?

RUPERT: Bosom.

When was his body found?

A few hours ago.

I preserved the crime scene
and sent for you immediately.

WATTS: Bashed with
a heavy object.

Scratches on his neck.

It's signs of a fight.

- Mr. Newsome --
- Ah, ah, ah!

King Rupert the First.

- Mr. Newsome.
-[ Sighs ]

Did Mr. Fanshaw have
any enemies?

Of course. In Canada.

We're in Canada.

No, we're not.

Our borders with Canada
were closed all night.

That's why I called you!

I believe the killer is
right here in Newsomimico.

[ Sighs ]

RUPERT: We sat for a nightcap
at 9:00 p.m.

It was myself, dearest departed
Dickie, and Courtney here.

Courtney van Doren,
Minister of the Interior.

It was just the three of you?

No. Lucy was here.
Lucinda. Helmsworthy-Newsome.

The Queen.

Oh, yes.

But she was knackered,
so she went to bed at 9:30.

After that, it was just
the three of us,

our double malts,
and our plans for the dock.

- The dock?
- Yes.

Those half-witted gargoyles down
at Mimico City Council

wouldn't let me build
a simple yacht dock!

[ Groans ]

RUPERT: One of them couldn't
even say yacht dock.

So, Dickie thought,
"Pffft, let's secede."

And thusly Newsomimico
was birthed.

Mr. Newsome,
do you recognize this?

Of course I recognize it,
whoever you are.

It's a feather.

Uh, yes.

Do you have any idea
why it might have been stuck

to Mr. Fanshaw's waistcoat?

His "wescut"? No.

It could belong to McGeorge.

Oh, yes.

McGeorge?

Yes. Dickie's pet goose.

Little critter went missing
yesterday, come to think of it.

- Oh.
-[ Clears throat ]

Gentlemen, last night,

when did you last see
Mr. Fanshaw?

I retired to my rooms at
10:00 p.m. on the dot,

but I believe Dickie said
he was going for a stroll.

Yes. It was 10:00 p.m.

He went out that door and...

[ Whistling ]

That's the song he was whistling
as he strode into the night.

Not a care in the world.

So, what are you all doing here?

JULIA: William asked us to come.

Per orders of the king.

He is not a king.
He is my idiot cousin.

Per orders
of Effie's idiot cousin.

Henry, what are you wearing?

What? It's my uniform.

You look like a feathered
beef eater.

Ruth designed it.

On your way.

[ Effie laughs ]

- Roderick.
- Fiona.

What -- what are you doing here?

I came to see this madhouse
for myself.

And you are?

George, this is
Roderick H. Roderick,

my ex-husband.

Roderick, this is George.

My lover.

[ Chuckles ]

Hm. A copper?

And you're a citizen
of New South Mimico?

Yes.
Chief legal counsel.

Then you actually believe
this is a real country?

I do, and it is.

Would you like to see proof?

Certainly.
I could use a good laugh.

Dearest, I am supposed
to be in charge.

I know that, Henny.
Say, I'm not showing, am I?

No. You're as sleek as
an antelope, dear.

Oh.

I am Chief of Justice
and Security for Newsomimico.

Yes. I know that, Henny.
Grape!

But all I get to do
is sit at the border

and turn away undesirables.

When a murder happens,
they call someone else in.

I've solved murders before,
you know?

Really?

I've been involved
in solving murders.

Oh, well, so have I.
Scads of them. Cantaloupe!

But, Henny, this is Dickie
we're talking about.

It's all rather remarkable,
isn't it?

They really made
their own country.

You're impressed by this?

I suppose I am.
Did you see the flag?

And the coat of arms?

This place is the manifestation

of a lunatic's
untethered vanity.

Thank you, Detective.

Well, I'll examine the body.

Thank you.

I've confirmed everyone else
was in bed

for the evening before
10:00 p.m.

The last Mr. Fanshaw was seen.

The victim's guest room
was in the east wing.

No one heard anything.

All the other sleeping quarters

are in other parts
of the building.

Yes, I searched his room.
Found this.

Uh!

A daily journal.

This looks interesting.

Watts!

Last journal entry
was yesterday.

"One, select pajamas,
two, pack pajamas,

three, tell secret,"
with a question mark.

Where is it?

Dickie was Newsomimico's
Secretary of State.

He handled all the files
and administration.

Why are there files
and administration?

Rupert Newsome didn't just say
he had a country

and everyone
just went along with it.

Well, I think he did.

I don't see how any paper
you show me will prove

that New South Mimico is real.

It will.

They don't teach you everything
at Osgoode, Fiona.

As a lawyer,
I have significantly

more experience than you.

Oh, Roderick.
There is lunch.

The Albanian woman
has made lunch.

Ah. Yes. All right.

Um, just a moment.

Oh, hello.

Hello.

Hm.

Who's that?

How am I supposed to know?

RODERICK: Huh!

Ah!

Here it is.

The Founding Documents --

proof that New South Mimico
is real.

This is nonsense.

It simply refers to
Canadian treaties

that harken back
to Confederation.

[ Laughs ] One could simply
pop 'round Queen's Park,

glance at the copies,
and prove once

and for all that there's
no such thing as Newsomimico.

[ Chuckles ] Yes.

No one has ever accused you
of not being sure of yourself,

have they, Fiona?

George.

I shall be back in the wink
of an eye.

And when I return,

New South Mimico
will be no more.

"Tell secret?"
Dickie wrote that?

I haven't the foggiest.

What about these symbols?

Ah! This is a note.

Those colors and symbols are,
in fact, a language --

Solresol.

Solresol?
What is Solresol?

The official language
of Newsomimico.

An international tongue that
allows for communication

through letters,
numbers, music, or color.

Is this language a product
of your own imagination?

MURDOCH:
"La langue universelle."

It was invented by a Frenchman,

although it's more theoretical
than practical, I believe.

Well, Dickie went to
pastry school in Paris

and said it was all the rage.

I find that hard to believe.

But what does this say?

It says...

..."Best friend."

"Best friend, Rupert and Dickie,
Dickie and Rupert,

best friends are we."

- Huh.
- My God! [ Groans ]

- What is it?
- It's a bloody axe.

Ugh!

Uh, pool of blood,
partially congealed.

I believe this axe was used
in the last day.

Well, we know an axe wasn't used
in committing the murder,

and we believe that to have
occurred at the door to

the East Wing.

What brings you out here,
Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome?

I was...taking a walk to...

I-I can't remember where.

I just wanted a walk.

WATTS: Uh, Detective.

Look at this.

Another feather.

Mm!

My goodness.

That is transcendent!

I-I'm sorry.
What is it?

This is goose.

A family recipe.

- Mm.
- I'm sorry.

Did you say goose?

Mm.

Where did you
procure this goose?

Miss Vrioni, I'm afraid I must
press you for an answer.

The victim's goose disappeared
shortly before he was murdered.

Murder?!

No.
I am not a killer.

William?

I found this in
the victim's clothing.

Broken fingernail.

Presumably broken whilst leaving

those nasty scratches
on his neck.

CRABTREE: Uh, sir.

- Miss Vrioni.
- Hm?

May I see your right hand?

- No.
- Uh, Miss Vrioni.

Please.

A broken fingernail.

Thank you.

You're coming with me.

Watts!

What happened?

I see the goose.
I take the axe.

I kill the goose.

Normal.

This man? He is crazy.

So angry, yelling, attacking.

I defend myself. Hm?

[ Groans ]

Uh, yes.
Uh, what time was this?

Mm, 10:00.

I already hung the goose
and was on my way to my room.

You didn't hit Mr. Fanshaw
on the back of the head?

No!

Right. What happened after
the two of you fought?

Nothing.

He screams, "Ahhhhh!"

Then he runs to the house.

This way.

Toward the East Wing.

Very good.

Thank you, Miss Vrioni.

Dr. Ogden confirms that
he died between

10:00 and 11:00 p.m. last night.

That seems to line up
with Miss Vrioni's story.

If she's telling the truth,
he would have come this way

and entered through
this door here.

It's curious, given that he died
at the other end of the wing.

What is this?

Blood.

♪ Dofasolmi sifa domifasol
domifasol domifasol ♪

So what does that mean?

Oh.
"Lovely little baby."

Yes, our child is going to be
the first native speaker

of Solresol.

Isn't that wonderful, Henry?

Mm. It is wonderful.

So is the entire
language musical?

Oh, doesn't have to be.

I suppose you-you could say,
"domifasol,"

but what fun's the fun
in that?

♪ Domifasol ♪

CRABTREE: Yeah. Incredible.

Do you mind if I have a look?

Oh! Certainly.

So it's true, is it, Higgins?

Sir?

Well, that you thought
you could call in sick

and that I wouldn't find out
you're working another job?

No. Sir, I -- I...

BRACKENREID:
Oh, spit it out, Higgins!

I'm actually looking forward
to hear you try

and worm your way
out of this one.

Well, I had no choice.
It pays more.

Then be a man, be up front,
and hand me your resignation.

Uh, sir.

You can understand why I might
want to not tie

my entire career
to Rupert Newsome.

I suppose so.

This new country business
can't actually last.

Just trying to make a little
extra money while I can.

I promise, after today,
no more taking off work.

Mm.

- Oy, Bugalugs!
- Oh! Sir!

Are you getting paid to read?

Sir, this is evidence.

What have you got, gentlemen?

The victim is a Mr. Fanshaw.

We believe he was
in this hallway

shortly before his death,
likely headed to his room.

Oh, oh, oh.
Look at this.

Blood.

WATTS: And it leads here.

There's some on the door, Watts.

Uh, is this Mr. Fanshaw's room?

No.
His room is that way.

I've already inspected it.
No blood there.

So what's in there?

What are you doing in my study?

Mr. Fanshaw came here
directly before being killed.

Why would he do that?

That's what we're asking you.

Well, I just asked you.

Why would I know?

What was the question?

Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome,
last night you had drinks

in the sitting room
with your husband,

the victim,
and Mr. Van Doren, correct?

Yes.

You then left their company
at 9:30 p.m.,

according to their recollection.

Where did you go after?

I...

I can't remember.

Did you come here,
to your study?

-[ Sighs ]
- Did you see Mr. Fanshaw at

or just after
10:00 p.m. last night?

No. Of course not.

She's bloody lying.

Inspector, Detective.

MURDOCH: What have you?

Letters.

And I believe they may explain
why Mr. Fanshaw

came to this room last night.

Uh, no, no, no.

You must hold
the final syllable.

Solremi-i-i.

- Solremi-i-i.
- Fabulous!

- That's it.
-[ Laughs ]

I do adore you, Courtney.

Why ever did you break
things off with Lucinda?

Don't answer.
It's obvious.

You have quite the sharp tongue,
Ruthie.

That's Princess
Higgins-Newsome, sir.

Yes, of course.
My apologies, Princess.

Oh, thank you.

Courtney, we must find someone
in the family for you to marry

so you can be
a proper royal, like us.

Who is that tall woman?

The one without any hair.

Oh, Effie! Oh, yes!
Oh, she's perfect!

You must marry her straightaway.

Scrumptious!

Effie's with George.

- Still?
- Hang on.

Oh.

HIGGINS: What's this?

Oh, my.

I've got to find the detectives.

Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome,
these are love letters.

Written to you by the victim.

What? [ Chuckles ]

That's absurd.

They're quite passionate.

In this one, he says he's going
to reveal your affair

"to the world."

Well, I've never seen
those letters before in my life.

Young Detective Watts
found them right here

in your study just moments ago.

MURDOCH: Mr. Fanshaw was injured
after his argument

with Miss Vrioni.

He went not to his room,
but came here,

perhaps to seek solace
in your arms.

- Oh.
- But you then argued,

possibly about this letter.

And shortly after that,
Mr. Fanshaw was dead.

No. No. I...

Where were you last night
at 10:00 p.m.?

I can't rememb--

No, no. I do.

I do remember.
I...

I took a walk.

In the rose garden.

And from there,
I went straight to bed.

HIGGINS: Sirs?
I found something.

What is it, Higgins?

I was walking outside
with Ruth and Courtney,

and I spotted this
on the ground.

There's dried blood on it.

- Mm-hmm.
- Oh.

Based on the wound,
this could be the murder weapon.

Well, it's the other bookend
from this shelf.

Oh! Very good.

Where did you find this, Henry?

In the rose garden.

No, no.

No, I didn't kill him.
I swear!

I...

I just can't remember anything!

[ Sighs ]

Perhaps she really
doesn't remember.

It's possible she killed him
and the experience

was so traumatic that
her mind just blocked it out.

Unfortunately, there are
no finger marks

on the murder weapon.

Detective, I understand my wife
has murdered my best friend.

The evidence strongly suggests
that's the case.

- However, we --
- The king -- me --

is despondent.

But there's nothing to be done.

Henry, arrest the Queen
on the charge of murder.

Really?
But she's your wife.

And she murdered my best friend.

No man has known true friendship
until he has known

the friendship of
Dickie D. Fanshaw, Esquire.

Mr. Newsome, at the conclusion
of our investigation...

- No!
-...we will arrest...

This is Newsomimico.

Henry, arrest the Queen.

He has a guillotine?

It's in the constitution.

But I'm not actually allowed
to cut her head off?

Absolutely not.

Oh, thank God.
Might as well have a little fun

with it, then, huh?
[ Chuckles ]

Ladies and gents, in accordance
with my duties

as Chief of Justice
and Security for Newsomimico,

I shall now execute
the Queen!

-[ Giggles ]
- Hm.

Just let me put her
in the thingamajig

before you put a stop
to all this.

Come on. What's wrong?
On your feet.

I did nothing wrong.

Stop this! Perty!

I'm your wife, how could you?

Your hands are stained
with the blood of Dickie.

I can't say I'm surprised
to find out

that you're a murderer, Lucinda.

I...I'm not...

Henry, are you really
going to chop off her head?

-'Tis my noble duty.
- Oh!

All right, Higgins.
That's enough. Hand her over.

Yes.
The Queen is coming with us

until we complete
our investigation.

Well, I object!

But in the name of peace,
I offer full compliance.

Henry!
You're supposed to --

Detectives? Inspector?

It's about this whole
sovereignty business.

Uh, uh, don't listen to her.
She's just a foolish woman.

Henry, do not unhand my wife.

BRACKENREID: We're taking her.

Meanwhile, Miss Newsome here
can explain to you

why you're not the king
of your own country.

[ Sighs ]

The thing is, the founding
documents of New South Mimico

refer to a federal
waterway treaty,

which was revised
only this year.

MURDOCH: All right.

The treaty defines
Canada's borders with America.

It's signed off by officials
from Canada,

the U.S., and Great Britain.

And there's one article, which
must have just been slipped in.

- The officials have no idea.
- No idea of what?

Once they're alerted, I'm sure
they'll re-write it immediately.

Go on, Miss Newsome.
What are you getting at?

According to the government
of Canada,

New South Mimico is real.

You're trying to tell us
that Rupert Newsome really

is the king of his own country?

Well, of course I am.

Henry, off with her head.

[ Gasps ] Yay.

Even if he is some sort of king,

we can't let him kill his wife.

Hm, yes.
This may call for a coup d'etat.

I'll handle this.

Right, Higgins.
You're not killing anyone.

Ow! Ow! Gosh, fine!

Take her inside.

She can wait there
until we decide

whether to take her
to the cells.

- Thank you, Inspector.
- You can't do this.

This is my country.

Effie just proved it.

I don't give a toss
whose country this is.

And if anyone cares
to disagree with me,

they can do it
right bloody well now!

Get it? Got it? Good!

Lucinda Helmsworthy-Newsome said
she was in the rose garden

last night,
but within 20 minutes,

she was back in bed
with her husband for the night.

So, she placed it here
in the morning

after the blood had dried?

Why? Why not clean it off
and put it back in her study?

And why feign to not remember
where she was last night,

only to eventually volunteer
being in the very place

where the murder weapon
was discarded?

Ah.

Someone may be trying
to cast suspicion on her.

Hm.

Think about it.

Who could have possibly slipped
that article into the treaty?

1-3, 1-4-5-3.

What?

That means, "You are lovely."

I thought it was
a musical language.

Yeah, well it can be.

But you could also use numbers,
symbols, uh...

colors, even.

Invented by a French chap,
François Sudre,

to allow
a truly universal language.

Effie, if everybody
learned this,

we could communicate with people
from China, Russia...

- Here we go.
-...Mars, Venus, Quebec!

Perhaps it was Dickie Fanshaw
who altered the treaty?

Uh, we should refer
to Mr. Fanshaw as...

6-5-4-7-7.

"The victim."

6-5-4-7-7 handled
all the Newsomimico paperwork.

But 6-5-4-7-7
was a wealthy lay about.

He wouldn't have known
to do this, even if he could.

Hm.

Well, if it wasn't 6-5-4-7-7,
perhaps it was...

6-7-7-4-1.

Precisely what I was thinking.

Assuming 6-7-7-4-1 means
"the lawyer,"

or "my ex-husband."

Indeed, it does.

There are inconsistencies
in the evidence against you,

so at this time,
you are not under arrest.

You see?!

I told you I didn't do it,
and you sentenced me to death!

Uh! -- yeah -- uh -- pfft.
I thought you killed Dickie.

- Ugh!
- You can imagine

how distraught I was.

I don't care how distraught
you were!

How could you believe
such a thing of me?

Mm. You're right.

I am so stupid.

-[ Sighs ]
- I'm a weak fool.

Please, show mercy
on this insufferable twit.

And, also, it was mostly
Henry's fault.

He found that evidence
and said it was you.

It was not only Henry.

And you are not yet cleared
of suspicion,

Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome.

What?

Right.

It was Henry Higgins.

He tried to have me killed.

You accused the Queen of murder.

That is treason.

I was only doing as I was told.
Your husband --

Do not speak ill of the King!

Now, put yourself in the stocks.

You are hereby sentenced
to death.

- Henny!
- Don't worry, Ruthie.

They can't let this happen.
Right, sir?

Oh, you want my help now,
do you, Higgins?

HIGGINS: Sir, she
is going to kill me.

She's serious.
Look at her eyes.

Oh.
Is Henry to be executed?

- Yes.
- No!

I'm sorry, Ruthie,
Ruthie's baby.

But we must abide
by the laws of Newsomimico.

Oh.

Yes, of course you're right.

- What?
- What? Oh, no. Wait!

No! No, Rupert, no, no, no.
You have to save him.

Oh, well, given Henry's the one
who does the executions,

who's going to chop
off his head, anyway?

[ Laughter ]

He can scarcely do it himself.

Well, it says here that
if the chief of justice

cannot perform his duties,

his responsibilities
fall to the King.

- Uh, well.
- Thank you.

Oh! Inspector!

How would you feel
about a new title?

Chief of Justice and Security.

What, so, uh, I'm the one
who gets to chop off

Higgins' head?

Worth considering, I suppose.

LUCINDA: Enough chatter.

Why is this taking so long?

Behead this simpleton, Perty.

But, Lucy, it's Henry.

You know? Henry.

Can you really imagine him
without a head?

Yes!

Now you do as I say
right now and chop...

off...his...

-[ Sighs ]
-[ Thuds ]

[ Gasps ]

[ Sighs ] I've been
so unwell lately.

Can't imagine why.

Can you describe exactly
what you've been feeling?

Untethered, I suppose.

And my body...

Pain?

Feels like I don't have control.

I can barely feel it at all.

Nothing in his briefcase
that would explain his motives

for helping to make
New South Mimico a reality.

It's essentially using
numbers 1 through 7.

You could assign
anything you like.

Musical notes,
colors of the rainbow.

If I had seven
different beans, Effie,

I could display them variously
and communicate with people!

I can't believe
this hasn't caught on.

Now, this is interesting.

"Dearest Lilith, from my heart
to yours, Roderick."

He moved on quickly.

Uh, so have you, dear.

Well, we're not going to prove
his guilt sitting around here.

We need to get back
into that office.

But the office is locked.

Well, we'll need to convince
the King to let us back in.

[ Ruth belches ]

Or perhaps another member
of the royal family.

Based on Lucinda's symptoms,
I'd say it's neurological.

When we arrived, she cut
herself and hardly noticed.

That's right.

And when Henry was marching her

to the guillotine,
she could barely walk.

It was as though
she'd lost all coordination.

Interesting.
Plus, the loss of memory.

And the general madness.

- Well, that may just be her.
- Hm.

I have to say, these are all
effects of mercury poisoning.

Then someone wants
the Queen dead.

And if that someone also
targeted Mr. Fanshaw,

then perhaps he wants both of
them dead for the same reason.

And we do have a strong motive.

Dickie Fanshaw was
carrying on with the Queen.

The killer could be the man
most aggrieved by the affair.

The man who counts them
as his wife and best friend.

[ Laughter ]

The mad king who thinks
himself above the law.

You learned of the affair
between your wife

and your best friend and then
set out to murder them both.

BRACKENREID: Poisoned your wife,
murdered Mr. Fanshaw,

and then framed her for it
and tried to execute her when

the poison didn't do the trick.

MURDOCH: You thought yourself
above the law.

Perhaps that's why you pushed to
have this country of your own,

so that you could
murder with impunity.

I did all that.

I found out about
the affair yesterday.

My honor was at stake.

A king cannot be made a cuckold
in his own country.

But, as you say,
I am above the law.

This isn't a real country,
Rupert.

Yes, it is.
Effie proved it!

And she will prove it again
to the Canadian government.

And then they will undo it.

And then you will be
arrested and hanged.

I should like to see you try.

I am banishing you.

You are banished.

And if you try to get back
in, you will regret it.

I could make one phone call
to the Chief Constable

and have a hundred men
here this afternoon

to take you by force.

Are you threatening
to invade my country?

It's not a bloody country!

You won't take us over.
We'll take you over.

You're going to
take over Canada?

I was thinking Mimico, but yes.

If you so much as step foot
over our borders --

We're already
across your borders.

We're not leaving here
without you in shackles.

You leave me no choice then.

I declare war.

War!

I boiled off one of Lucinda's
daily tinctures,

and it was laced with mercury.

So, this wasn't a one-time
occurrence.

She's been slowly poisoned
for a week or more.

Then Rupert Newsome lied.

He said he found out about
the affair only yesterday.

If there's one thing we know
about Rupert is that

he'd rather confess to a murder
than suffer embarrassment.

Sons of Newsomimico, I am
your king, Rupert the First.

The Canadians are coming.

They will outnumber us.
They will be armed.

And, most likely,
they will slaughter us all.

But I stand before you today
to tell you

they may take our riches,

they may take our country,

they may take your lives,

but they will never
take our freedom!

Mr. Newsome, you are not
going to war with Canada.

Because you didn't actually
kill anyone, did you?

Of course I did.

I've already explained that.

If you are the killer
of your own best friend,

why did you call in detectives
from outside your little

fiefdom here to solve
the murder?

And why did you begin
to poison your wife

at least one week prior
to learning of the affair?

Yes.
We already know of the affair.

Everyone will learn of it.

Can whatever you're hiding
be that much worse?

You have no idea.

It's much, much, much worse.

You see...

there was no affair.

Wh -- what on earth
are you talking about?

The note that Dickie wrote
to me, with the colors.

It is not about
our friendship at all.

It isn't?
Well, what did it say?

It says, "I put the letters
in the study.

Now you can expose
the fake love affair."

Why would you fake a love affair

between your wife
and your best friend?

I wanted an excuse to leave her.

In a dignified manner.

All while making it
your wife's fault.

Precisely. You understand.

No, I don't believe I do.

Please, Detectives.

Lucinda cannot find out
about this.

Do not proceed
with this investigation.

I beg of you.

Hang me and be done with it.

What did you find?

Roderick H. Roderick is
being paid by

the government of
New South Mimico

in at least a dozen
different positions.

Legal advice,
departmental oversight,

currency advisor.

He's paying himself
thousands a week.

He's fleecing these idiots.

Well, perhaps he just does
a lot of work.

Uh, "exotic fruit procurement"?

Well, that's ridiculous.
Anyone can procure fruit.

You just ask the servants.
[ Chuckles ]

What are you doing?
You can't be here.

I beg your pardon?!

Have you forgotten my title?

No, Your Ladyship.

EFFIE: You're behind all of
this, aren't you, Roderick?

You've been stealing
from the Newsomes

in the form
of all these payments.

I beg your pardon.

Perhaps Dickie Fanshaw
found out.

He's the one who keeps
all these records.

Maybe you killed him
to silence him.

Mr. Newsome wanted a country.

I helped him achieve this
unprecedented feat,

and, yes,
was compensated generously.

No matter how delighted
you might be

to find me guilty of murder,

I think you know in your heart
that I'm not.

Perhaps this wasn't
Mr. Fanshaw's secret, then.

Secret?

Yes, well, apparently he was
considering divulging

some sort of secret
just before he was killed.

You know, there was something
he referred to last week.

He was finishing the portfolios

on all the members
of the Royal Family.

He had just discovered something
down at the courthouse.

What?

All he said was it was
a threat to the monarchy.

MURDOCH:
A threat to the monarchy?

That was Mr. Fanshaw's secret?

Well, I can't be certain, sir,
but it seems a possibility.

What could he have come across
at the courthouse?

Property records, maybe?

Wouldn't be the first time
the Newsomes learned

- they were paupers.
-[ Whistling melody ]

Sirs, that tune?

Oh, yes.

Apparently, Mr. Fanshaw
was whistling that

shortly before he died.

Well, that's no tune, sirs.

That's a message.

Solresol.

Sol-what?

Uh, the official language
of New South Mimico.

Uh, Rupert!

Whistle that tune again!

Whistle what?
Was I whistling? Ugh.

- Yes! That tune!
- The one Dickie was whistling.

Oh, uh...yes. Right.

Um...mm...uh.
Oh, yeah.

-[ Whistling ]
- Wait, wait, wait.

♪ Do-do-re-mi-fa ♪

♪ Do-fa ♪

[ Whistling ]

♪ Fa-fa-so-la-la-so ♪

[ Whistling ]

♪ F-fa...si-mi ♪

[ Whistling ]

♪ Si-re-mi-mi ♪

Sirs!

It is a message!

"He never
divorced the physicist."

The physicist?

What bloody physicist?

I don't know any physicist.

Uh, Rupert, is it possible
you were mistaken

about the last note?

I-I mean, could it be...

♪ so-re-mi-sol ♪

And what would that mean?

"He never divorced the queen."

- Oh.
- Uh, no, no, no.

Definitely not.

So, who's this physicist?

No, no.
There is no physicist.

He was sending you a message
about your wife.

Now, unless she has
another ex-husband,

I believe he was trying to
tell you that

Mr. van Doren never
divorced Lucinda.

BRACKENREID: He could have found
that out from the courthouse,

which means your marriage
to your wife

never happened, Newsome.

You don't say?

Well, that's why Courtney
was trying to poison Lucinda.

With her dead, this entire
estate would become his.

That would certainly be a threat
to the monarchy.

What's does one rich toff
want with another fortune?

Oh, I might know.

What is it, Henry?

Well, I've been
manning the border

and turning away undesirables
for the last week or two.

There have been more than a few
debt collectors

looking for Courtney.

And you never thought
to mention this?

Of course not.
It's rude to talk about money.

Then Courtney van Doren is broke
and tried to kill

Lucinda for her money.

Dickie Fanshaw found out.

He then tried to warn Rupert,
but Rupert didn't understand.

Unfortunately,
Mr. van Doren did.

So he had to kill Dickie.

Let's go and get
the little bugger.

Sirs?
Wasn't Miss Helmsworthy-Newsome

just sitting right there?

[ Man screams ]

Uh, you go that way.

- Oh!
- He fell.

These trousers
were from Antwerp.

I suppose I'm under arrest.

The national borders
will be redrafted on Monday,

with all mention
of New South Mimico excised.

I'm sorry your dream
won't be coming true.

Well, to be perfectly honest,

it was becoming a little
stressful being a monarch.

- Hm.
- I'm much more heartbroken

that, tragically,

sadly, our marriage seems
never to have existed at all.

LUCINDA: I don't understand it.

I signed the divorce papers.

He never filed them.

Must have been planning to come
after my money all along.

Yes.
What a horrible man.

Well, I suppose
I shall pack my things.

- Oh!
- You don't mind if I make use

of the lake house
for a time, do you, dear?

Oh, you needn't worry, Rupert.
I've taken care of it.

I beg your pardon?

EFFIE: Roderick and I spoke
to a judge.

He'll validate the un-filed
divorce papers

and ensure that
your current marriage stands.

Oh, thank heavens!

How wonderful.
Thank you, Effie.

LUCINDA: I do have
one question, though.

Why would Dickie want to pretend
we were having an affair?

Oh! [ Laughs ]

It was likely one of his
hilarious jokes.

What's the joke?

I'm not sure, but I think,
out of respect for the dead,

we'd best never
speak of it again.

As in many cases, some questions
never come to be answered.

RUPERT: And that whole business
with the, um...

scimitar in Courtney's leg.

No, uh, charges to be
laid there, huh?

No.

Given that
Mrs. Helmsworthy-Newsome

was likely acting
under influence of poisoning,

the constabulary
will look upon it

as a self-inflicted wound.

- Hm.
- Right.

Everything's back to
normal then.

Aren't we so wonderfully
lucky, Perty?

- Yes, dear.
- Shall we have a tussle?

Yes, dear.

[ Lucinda grunts ]

[ Rupert groans ]

RUPERT: Okay.
Oh, that's good.

I've been thinking about
the idea of building a nation

around science
and universal truths.

Have you, now?

A country whose every citizen
would commit

all of their resources
toward progressive,

technological innovation.

The result would be a nation
where everyone would have

enough wealth that his or her
every need would be met.

Is productivity
your first concern

when building a new society?

Productivity that leads
to greater social good.

Such a nation would require
impressive leadership.

William Murdoch, you fancy
yourself a king, don't you?

What? I nev --

You called Rupert Newsome mad,

but, secretly, you'd love
to rule your own country.

King William the First
of Murdochonia. [ Laughs ]

Doesn't have a bad ring to it.

And, as king, I will be free
to choose

whomever I wish to be my queen.

Oh, well, yes, I would
quite like to be queen.

I'll think about it.

[ Scoffs ]

♪