All language subtitles for Murdoch.Mysteries.S17E11.WEB (SDH)

(mysterious music)

(bagpipes playing)

- My favourite time of year.

- The games. Of course.

- And what's the reason for
our appearance, Chief Inspector?

- You're competing.

Participants
from all over the province

have come to Toronto for this

and so I thought it would
be a big boost for the city

and the constabulary if we,
uh, participated.

So, I signed you both
in some of the events.

- What, in particular,
do you have in mind?

- I was thinking
the Heavy Events.

- Bloody hell.
Just how heavy is heavy?

- Well, the sheaf and the hammer
are both roughly 16 pounds

and the stone is 20 pounds.

- Don't forget the caber toss.

(Murdoch): Ah, yes.

Participants are to toss
a tree trunk end over end

and be certain
it lands at 12 o'clock.

- I don't think I'm up
for tossing a bloody tree.

I mean, how much will it weigh?

- Hundred and 70 pounds.

- Oh, no, no.
Don't worry about that.

Who's that, uh, the big,
uh, ginger lad at your station?

(both): McNabb.

- Ai, yeah. McNabb.
I've entered him in the toss.

- You are the hammer throw.

Murdoch...

you can ring in the sheaves.

Oh, let's take in some
festivities before the gloaming.

- So, when the games begin,
I expect the both of you

to be appropriately
kitted and kilted out.

- There's the address,
Flora MacDonald,

she'll take care of you.

One Murdoch and one Craig tartan
will be waiting.

- I'm a Brackenreid.

- Your mother was a Craig,
was she not?

- How do you know that?

- Oh, I've been paying attention
to you, sonny Jim.

- Paying attention, sonny Jim?
What does that bloody well mean?

(traditional highland music)

- Duncan!

(Duncan): Chief Inspector!

(Duncan laughing heartily)

- Good to see ya.

(indistinct chatter)

- Trust there will nae be
trouble at these games, Duncan.

- Ha! As long as you can
cope with the numerous

defeats you'll be suffering.

- You mind your tongue.

- You mind yours.

You do that,
there'll be no trouble.

- You best learn to keep
your woman in line, Duncan.

- The Campbells
and the MacDonalds.

No love lost between them
since the massacre at Glencoe.

- That was hundreds
of years ago.

- Hate doesn't
just disappear, Murdoch.

A police presence might not
be a bad idea after all.

- Ladies and gentlemen,

laddies and lassies,

the final round of the men's
sword dance, premium category.

Ah!

And a round of applause
to Miss Iona MacDougall,

our Highland Fling champion

for the fourth year running.

(crowd murmuring, applauding)

Now, to the finalists.

First, our Ontario champion,
Mr. Ross Campbell.

(Fingal shouting): Go, laddie!

(Fingal chuckling)

- And next kin, if not kind,

Mr. Alasdair Campbell.

(Fingal): Ha-ha!
Give it your best!

- Older brother of Ross

and runner-up for the past
two years. Perhaps...

third time lucky?

(chuckling)
- Aye! Alasdair.

- Next, Mr. Enden Gunn,
from Caledon, Ontario.

And last, but by no means
least, Mr. Malcolm MacDonald,

who also hails from
the beautiful Caledon Hills.

First time competing,
but he's one to watch.

(Fingal): That he is.

Gentlemen...

take up your positions.

(bagpipes playing)

(thudding)

(Duncan chuckling): Nice!

(indistinct chatter)

- All right, uh...

That's excellent dancing
from all the-the finalists,

but taking into account
skill and timing,

we're awarding
the first place to...

Malcolm MacDonald!

(applauding)

And, uh...

along with the honour,
there's a prize...

Twenty dollars.

(crowd murmuring)

- What's that you were saying
about losses, Duncan?

(Fingal laughing)

(tense music)

(indistinct chatter)

- You might win with
a throw of a hundred feet.

- One hundred...?

- In that case,
I'd better go home

and practice chucking
heavy things around.

(Duncan): That's a tough one
to swallow.

Too bad, Alasdair.
Better luck next time.

Son.

- I did my best, sir.

- We know you did.

- That's what's
so disappointing.

(Stewart): Don't pay
any attention to him.

(bagpipes honking)

- Oh, he's playing again.
Let's bugger off.

(Iona): Help!

Somebody! Help!

- Did you hear that?

- I did.

(suspenseful music)

- In there.

- It appears we have
a sore loser somewhere.

(mysterious music)

(tense music)

- Sgain dubh.

Nowadays, it's only used
for ceremonial purposes,

but historically has always
been a deadly weapon.

- Well, it doesn't seem
to have lost its effectiveness.

There's a stamp on the end.

(Murdoch): Traditionally,
it would always be engraved

with the owner's family crest.

(Brackenreid): Well,
which one is this?

- The Campbell clan.

The prize money doesn't
appear to have been taken.

- So whoever did this
had no interest in the money.

- Perhaps it's as you said, sir:
Hate doesn't die.

- Mm.

(tense music)

- The murder weapon
bears your family's crest.

- Never seen that
particular knife.

- Of course not.

It's a shame both your sons
lost to the victim.

- Contest was fairly judged.

We have no quarrel
with the result. I hope...

I hope you're not accusing
someone in my family of murder.

- We're simply asking questions.

- Where were you immediately
after the competition?

- I was having a drink.
You saw me there.

- That was after
the man was killed.

- No one in my family
had anything to do

with the death of Mr. MacDonald.

- Did you know the man?

- I did not!

So, please,
arrest me or let me go.

Need to get back to the games.

- Uh, what of the young woman
who discovered the body?

- Iona?

She's a MacDougall.

They're kin to the MacDonalds,

but that doesn't mean
she didn't kill him.

(Duncan scoffs)

They are a murderous bunch.

(ominous music)

(birds chirping)

(whirring)

(Margaret): Are you sure
this will work?

- It's a metal
locator, Margaret.

If your locket is nearby,
we should find it.

(Margaret sighing)

- I can't believe I lost it.

Thomas gave me that locket
when we were first courting.

(scoffs)
I feel a bit silly doing this.

- How do you think I feel?

I'm pedaling like a madwoman
and going nowhere.

- Aren't we a sight.
(giggles)

- Yes, indeed, we are.

- Ah, I must say, Julia,

you have opened me up
to quite a raft of adventures.

Medicine...

(laughing)
and now treasure hunting.

- Just, just
keep moving, Margaret.

I don't want
to be doing this all day.

- Right you are!

(metal locator whirring)

(huffing)

Oh, Julia!
It's making a sound.

(suspenseful music)

(rapid beeping)
I think I've fou--

(gasping)
Oh! Oh, Lord!

(panting)

Oh!

(ominous music)

(Margaret gasping): Oh!

(Julia huffing)

- Well, not exactly
what we were looking for.

(Margaret gasping)

(water trickling)

There's no obvious
cause of death.

(breathlessly): Well,
was he murdered?

- Well, as I said,

no apparent
cause of death, Margaret.

(sighing)
All right.

- We-- We're just
going to leave him here?

- Well, of course not, but we're
going to need some help

to get him to the morgue.

(sighing)
- Oh.

Oh, that poor soul.

- I'll find out
what happened to him,

don't worry.

(ominous music)

(distant phone ringing)

- Right this way,
Miss MacDougall.

Please have a seat.

Now, how is it that
you came to discover

Mr. MacDonald's body
in the storage room?

- I was putting away the swords.

- And did you see anyone exiting
the room as you approached?

- Not a soul.

- How well did you know
Mr. MacDonald?

- I didnae.

I knew his reputation
as a dancer.

That's it.

- Hm.

And did you notice any tensions

between he and the Campbells?

- Not with... them.

I did see Mr. MacDonald
in an argument with Mr. Gunn,

the man who was disqualified.

- What was that argument about?

(tense music)

- Mr. MacDonald
was taunting Mr. Gunn.

He said he would lose
and might as well withdraw

to save his honour.

He was being very cruel.

- Are you saying Mr. Gunn
may have killed him

in order to get even?

- No. Didn't say that.

But I do know I heard
two men arguing violently.

Now, one of them is dead and...

the other is walking free.

- Uh, pardon me a moment.

Julia, what are you
doing with this?

- I was just returning
your metal locator.

I was using it to look for
a locket that Margaret lost.

- Oh!

Did you find it?

- No. But we did find
a dead body!

(tense music)

(tense music)

So you agree this
appears to be an accident?

- There's no doubt
the young man drowned.

His lungs were
filled with water.

There were no signs
of trauma to the body

beyond a few scratches you might
expect from the riverbed.

- I see.

Did you find
any identification?

- No, but there are some clues.

A St. Christopher medal.

(Julia): Ah! The patron saint
of travelers.

- Oh, he must
have been Catholic.

- And these were sewn
into the lining of his jacket.

- Oh.
- Likely for safekeeping.

- Are those English coins?

- Yes.

A total of six shillings
and sixpence.

It's not much,
but it's probably all he had.

- I see. Go on.

- Take a look at his hand.

See this bruise
on his left thumbnail?

And note the little cuts
around the corners of his mouth.

These are typical marks of a man
in the boot-making trade.

They would hold
the nails in their mouth

and often get
these little nicks.

- That's very good.
Anything else?

- His clothes were
far too big for him.

Old and cheap.

(sighs)
- English coins,

evidence of a trade
he was involved in.

Possibly a recent immigrant

who came here to take up
an apprenticeship?

- He would have likely
had a sponsor.

- Well, Margaret, it appears
we have a mystery to solve.

(mysterious music)

(sighs)

(wagon rattling)

- You were seen arguing
with MacDonald

in the hours leading
up to this death.

- Aye.

We argued.

He was an arrogant git.

But I certainly
did not kill him.

- I take it you knew him?

- I knew him.

We had competed in the past.

- What was the argument about?

- He was disparaging my ability.

Said I was wasting my time
competing against him.

- You were disqualified,

so I'd say that
Mr. MacDonald was right.

- Have you ever
seen this before?

- That belongs
to the Clan Campbell.

Could have been
one of them, huh?

They lost to MacDonald as well.

- They deny having seen it.

- They're liars and murderers.

Always have been.

- I've already spoken to you.

Why am I here?

- Because we're not certain

you were telling
the truth the first time.

- How dare you, sir.

- Sit down, Mr. Campbell.

(tense music)

- Mrs. Campbell.

Do you recognize this?

- Good heavens, Duncan. Look!

It's the one you lost
so many years ago.

- Well, it can't be.

- How do you not recognize it?
I gave it to you.

- Are you certain?

- Aye! There's
the wee emerald heart

I had embedded in the hilt.

Detective Murdoch, this knife
has been missing for 20 years.

- And now it has resurfaced

embedded in the body
of Malcolm MacDonald.

- As I've told you before,
I had nothing to do with that.

- Where were you, sir,
when you lost it originally?

- It was more than 20 years ago.

I really don't remember.

- Oh, I do.

It was on that trip
to Caledon Hills

just months before we wed.

- Ach, she's always had
a better memory than I.

Must be all that whiskey.

(Duncan chuckles)

Whether that's the weapon
or not,

I had nothing to do with
the death of Mr. MacDonald.

I was enjoying a fine Islay

with your chief inspector when
that poor bugger lost his life.

- I see.

- Absolutely.
No, we were together.

Besides...

I'd stake my reputation
on Duncan Campbell.

I've known him for years.
He's a man of honour.

It's not too early
in the day for a drink,

is it, Tom?

- Never, sir! Allow me.

- Sir, you are aware
of the long-standing feud

between the two families.

- Hm. Of course I am.

On the orders of the English,

the Campbells killed
over 30 of Clan MacDonald.

- The Massacre of Glencoe.

- Well, since Duncan Campbell
arrived in Canada,

he's built a successful life
for him and his family,

so he's not going to risk that

on a dance contest or...

something that happened
over 200 years ago.

- Well, sir, he has admitted

that the murder weapon
belonged to him.

- But he also stated
that he lost that dagger

over 20 years ago.

- Well, perhaps
a member of his family?

- And where did he say
that he lost it?

- Caledon.

- And the man
who was seen arguing

with Malcolm MacDonald...

- Enden Gunn.

- ...is from Caledon, is he not?

You're barking up
the wrong tree.

It's got nothing
to do with the Campbells

and the MacDonalds.

Well, Tom,

I hope that...

one day soon...

you'll be able
to afford a better dram.

- Hm. Well, you seem
to like this one.

- Ah, these?

They're for you two.

(rustling)

I took the liberty
of picking 'em up.

So...

wrap up this investigation

and bring the constabulary
some glory.

(thwacking)

(tense music)

(carriage rattling)

- This shoe store
is the last one on our list.

- Well, let's hope
the last one's a charm.

- I appreciate
your patronage, madam.

What can I do for you ladies?

- Uh, we just have a couple
of questions for you.

- I should tell you I've just
received a shipment

of red suede boots
with needlepoint tips.

All the rage.

- Oh, could I get a--

- Margaret!

(clearing throat)
- Right. Of course.

- Ah, I was just wondering

whether you might
recognize this man?

- Good Lord.

- I apologize if it's gruesome.

- I've seen him.

- When?

- About a week ago now.

He applied to be
an apprentice here.

- And you didn't take him on?

- He arrived two weeks late.

I had already
taken on another man.

- Did he say why he was late?

- He said the boat
from England was delayed

because of bad weather.

He was disappointed, but
I didn't have a place for him.

I take it from this
he's dead.

(somber music)

I'm very sorry, but there
was nothing I could do for him.

- Do you know his name?

- Silas Barnes.

- Thank you.

Did he happen to mention where
he was headed when he left?

- He said something about
looking for guidance.

- I see.

Thank you.

(bagpipes playing)

- There are some things
from the old country

they could have left behind.

- You don't care for
the pipes, Higgins?

- Does anyone, sir?

- Well, this is quite the day.

There are few things
in life that we agree on.

(Higgins chuckles)

- Let's just try
to find Enden Gunn.

- But didn't you say he lost
the competition, sir?

- I did.

- Well...

then why would he still be here?

- We don't know
if he's here or not.

That's why
you're looking for him.

- Terrible news.

- About the murder
investigation?

- No, no, no.
It's the caber toss.

That McNabb fellow
from your station,

he's pulled up lame.

You there!

- Me?

- Ya. Aye. You!

Do you want
to do your station proud?

Of course you do.

So, what do you think, Tom?

You think your man'll
be able to handle the challenge?

- Oh, I have
the utmost confidence

in Constable Newsome-Higgins.

- It's the other way, sir.

- Excellent. So, you ever
tossed a caber?

- I can't say that I have.

- Well, young Sean there...

(grunting)

(thudding)

Happy to give you
a few tips.

Sean!

- Uh, Sir, shouldn't I be
looking for Enden Gunn?

- Oh, Murdoch and I
can handle things, Higgins.

- Ah, you'll be splendid,
Constable.

And, if you conduct
yourself honourably,

I'll reward you handsomely.

- Reward how?

- Now, never you mind that now.

Come on, let's go.
Let's sign you up.

(Brackenreid): Bloody hell,
Murdoch.

I think he expects us to win.

- Really?

For now, let's just focus on
finding Mr. MacDonald's killer.

- Hm.

(bells chiming)

(Father Aloysius): I presume
his death was an accident?

- We've found no evidence
to suggest otherwise.

- In that case, I shall arrange

for him to be buried
in the parish cemetery.

- Thank you, Father.
(sighs)

(distant crowd chattering)

(tense music)

- Something on your mind, sir?

If you're worried,

I've had a thought on how
I could give you an advantage

during the hammer toss.

I would stiffen the shick--

Actually, steel could work.

- Murdoch...

it's not that, me ol' mucker.

It's Stewart.
He's up to something.

- How so?

- Well, this is the first time
he's ever entered

Station House Four
into these games.

- What do you think's
prompted that?

- I don't know.

But he keeps making all these
vague promises to me.

He's definitely up to something.

- Ooh.

It appears
he's not the only one.

- Isn't that one
of the Campbell lads

coming out of
the MacDonald tent?

- It is, sir. Alasdair.

(mischievous music)

- Ooh.

Well, it appears at least two
members of the warring clans

have decided to effect a truce.

Oi! Romeo and Juliet!

We'll be needing a word.

(suspenseful music)

Are you thinking
what I'm thinking, Murdoch?

- Iona pointed
the finger at Enden Gunn

to keep us from looking
at Alasdair Campbell.

- Or herself.

- Even though
she's a MacDougall,

which is part
of the MacDonald clan?

- She may have killed him for
reasons that have nothing to do

with the clan
that he belonged to.

(tense music)

- Sir, sir,
uh, I just wanted to say

you may have misinterpreted
what you saw.

- Oh, I doubt that very much.

And I don't give a toss
what the pair of you were up to.

- Oh.

- Have either of you
ever seen this before?

- Mm, I've not seen this
particular sgain dubh,

but there are lots around.

Virtually every
adult male owns one.

It's a Scottish tradition.

- Your mother insists that
this belonged to your father

and that he lost it
some years ago.

- How odd.

- What's odd...

is that was found sticking out
of a dead man's chest.

- I know nothing about that.
I know nothing about that!

- All right, let's get back
to the time of the murder.

Malcolm MacDonald was
killed very shortly after

the sword dance competition.

Where were you at that time?

- I was in the hall,
licking me wounds.

- And how well did you know
Malcolm MacDonald?

- I didn't. I only met him
on the stage.

- And how did you feel after
he beat you in the competition,

something you'd been hoping
to win for at least two years?

- I'm only human, Detective.

I was rather...

disappointed in myself.

But it was a fair match.

I intend to do better
on the next try.

(Brackenreid):
We haven't finished.

You are a champion dancer,
are you not?

- I've won the fling
four times running.

- So why was a champion dancer

clearing up the swords
after the event?

- I may be a champion,
but I still do women's work.

- Did you know Mr. MacDonald?

- In passing.

He may have been kin,

but he was a very
unpleasant man.

I preferred to keep me distance.

Sirs, we have been
honest with you.

Could I avail upon you
to keep what you saw between us?

- Our families would
certainly not approve.

(tense music)

(whirring, grinding)

- The two families
are not going to say anything,

so I've asked Douglas Cameron
to come in for an interview.

He's run these games
for over 20 years.

He might know more
than he's letting on.

- Sir, perhaps, we should
cancel the games altogether.

- Oh, no. Stewart would
have my head on a block.

- Uh, cancelling them sounds
like a good idea, sir.

My back has been
acting up lately.

- Not keen on the caber
toss, Higgins?

- No, sir.

- You wanted a wee word?

Duncan Campbell
is a friend of mine.

- Sir, a man was murdered
at an event

that you are hosting.

Friendships don't
matter right now.

- If you know anything
at all, Douglas,

you'd be best
advised to share it.

- Duncan Campbell
is no murderer.

- We'll decide that.

So, anything at all?

(sighs)

- I saw Duncan and the dead man
in an argument

the morning of the competition.

- What you did hear?

- MacDonald was going
on about his rights.

- His rights to what?

- I don't know.
All I heard him saying was,

"I have all
the right in the world,

and you know it
and I can prove it."

- Anything else?

- Duncan looked as if
he might hit him,

but then he turned
on his heel as he shouted,

"God help me!
I will see you in Hell first."

- His exact words?

- Aye.

He'd been pushed so far

he even used
the Lord's name in vain.

And I've known
Duncan a long time.

I've never seen him so mithered.

- Thank you.

- Ah, my games
can still proceed?

- For now.

(sighs with relief)

- Then I'll, uh, see you this
evening at the banquet.

- This Malcolm MacDonald
is something, eh?

- How's that, Sir?

- More enemies than friends.

He should've been a copper.

(laughs)

(mysterious music)

(whirring)

(panting)
- Margaret,

I need a rest.

Perhaps we can exchange tasks?

- What?

Oh, uh, I would, but my
sciatica's acting up, so...

(Julia): Of course it is.

- I can't stop
thinking about him.

You know, there are more
and more people coming here

every day looking for
the promise of a new life.

- Which many achieve.

- I know.

But to die here,

alone, in a new country
with no one.

Julia!

Look at this!

(suspenseful music)

There's an initial
on the hatband:

S.B.

- Silas Barnes.

- This must be where
he fell into the river!

It's quite slippery
beyond this point.

- Yes. If he fell.

- What are you suggesting?

- Well, his belongings
all piled up neatly.

I've seen this before
when investigating

people who've
taken their own lives.

- Why would he do that?

- Well, he came here
for a better life

and that chance was denied.

(water trickling)

He was homeless and penniless.

Perhaps he couldn't see
a future for himself.

(somber music)

- If he did take his own life,
according to the Church,

he cannot have
a Catholic burial.

- Yes, I'm aware of that.

Which is why,
to the best of my knowledge,

Mr. Silas Barnes

suffered an accidental death.

(splashing)
- You would lie to the Church?

- Uh. Oh, Margaret.
It wouldn't be the first time.

- Oh.

- Shall we continue our search?

(sighs)
- Perhaps tomorrow.

- I'll get the bicycle.

(distant birds chirping)

(sighs)

(bagpipes playing)

- Auld Scotland wants nae
skinking ware.

That jaups in luggies;

But if ye wish
her grateful prayer...

(all cheering):
Gie her a Haggis!

(chuckling)

- Sir, is everyone here?

- It appears so. Why?

- Malcolm MacDonald
said something about

"having the proof."

I thought I'd have a look around
to see what that could be.

- You'll miss the haggis.

- I'm sure I'll survive.

- Hm.

- Where is the detective off to?

- He needed to get some air.

- Mm. Too much whiskey?

- Hm. That'll be the day.

(insects chirping)

(suspenseful music)

(bagpipes playing)

- Save some for your detective.

- Oh, he won't mind.

He confessed he's not
very partial to it.

- And how does he feel about
neeps and tatties?

- He's not partial
to that, either.

(grunts)

- Ah, come here.

Look at us, eh?

We're a couple of thieves.

(Brackenreid chuckles)

We've seen a lot,
you and I, have we not?

- Indeed we have, sir.

- I think, perhaps,
I've seen enough.

I'm thinking
of stepping down, Tom.

- Are you sure?

- I think it's time
to walk away.

It'll mean big changes
at the constabulary.

I think I know
the man for the job.

- Excuse me, sir?

- I think I know
the man for the job.

(bagpipes continue)

- Get your hands off her.

- We'll no have our family
sullied by the likes of you.

- Should we step in, sir?

- I fear the world
will never move forward

'til the old feuds die.

- Aye.

(rustling)

(distant horses neighing)

(suspenseful music)

(grunting)

- Oi. The MacDonald
clan are furious.

They want to know what
you're doing snooping around.

- Good morning to you.

I was trying to solve
the murder of one of their own.

- Did you find anything?

- I found a letter
to a Jenny MacDonald.

- What did it say?

- I didn't get a chance
to read it.

(Fingal): Where is he?

- Ah, bloody hell.

(footsteps approaching)

- What were you doing snooping
around our encampment?

Are you trying to pin
my cousin's murder on one of us?

- You'd best make
yourself scarce!

- Ach, Bloody Campbells.

They've ere been
in league with English,

cozying up to the police.

- They did no such thing!

- I've seen that Duncan Campbell
with the chief inspector,

trying to blame us
for what's going on.

- You'd better leave right now,
or it's a night in the cells.

(tense music)

- Aye.

- So, what do
you think, Murdoch?

Doth he protest too much?

- Would he kill one of his own?

(mysterious music)

(grunting)

(bagpipes playing)

- Are you sure about this?

- The man who struck me was
wearing a Campbell tartan.

- That doesn't mean
it was one of them.

Someone could have
been disguising themselves.

- Well, sir, that's possible,
but I don't think it likely.

The murdered man
was in possession of a letter

from a Jenny MacDonald;
that letter is now gone.

- They're all present
and accounted for, sir,

though not a happy lot.

Does this mean they'll
be calling off the games?

- No such luck, Higgins.

(grunting)

- For Pete's sake.

(door closing)

- Evidence I procured
last evening

was taken from me by force.

My constables will
conduct a thorough search

of both your persons
and your belongings.

(scoffs)
- On what grounds?

- On the grounds
that my detective

thinks that one
of you lot assaulted him.

- I don't like to be accused
of something I've not done.

- You'd be wise to keep
your mouth shut, sunshine.

- Don't treat us
like we're criminals.

- You're being treated like
suspects in an investigation.

There's a difference.

- I will not stand for this.

I'm going to see the chief
inspector. This is an insult.

- You're not going anywhere!

(tense music)

- That what you're
looking for, Murdoch?

(Duncan): You have no right.

- I believe it is, sir.

- Mr. Campbell, perhaps
your family should wait

for you outside.

- Aye.

- I won't be leaving my husband.

- Morag, you should go.

- I'm staying.

(suspenseful music)

My dearest Jenny,

it pains me that
our love is forbidden,

and that our son
will be raised among your clan

without ever knowing
his true father.

But this is for the best,

for if the truth of his
parentage was known,

both of our families
would surely shun him.

Who was she?

- They're lies.
They're damnable lies.

(sullen music)

- Aye. You see, Detective,

it's just more lies
from these people.

- And what of the sgain dubh?

How did your knife end up
killing Malcolm MacDonald?

- Oh, well, um, you lost it.
Did you not say you lost it?

- It's time to tell the truth,
Mr. Campbell,

if only for the sake
of your wife.

- Jenny...

wanted a keepsake.

- And if you were so sweet
on her, why didn't you marry?

- She was a MacDonald.

I was a Campbell.

- Is that it?

So, you settled for second best.

- No, no, Morag.

- I-I found another
that I loved more.

I really thought
the past was behind me.

- That's what the argument
was about?

Malcolm MacDonald confronted
you, told you he was your son

and that he'd come
to claim his inheritance?

- Did you attack Murdoch

to steal the letter
that was the evidence?

- It was my property.

I...

I just hoped to bury,
bury the shame.

- Did you kill Malcolm MacDonald
for the same reason?

- I will not stoop
to answer these questions!

- Shall I take that as a yes?

- I repeat: I will not answer
these questions!

- Indeed.

Well, Duncan Campbell,

I'm charging you with
the murder of Malcolm MacDonald.

You'll be incarcerated until
you can appear before a judge.

(door opens)

(Ross): Father!

- Get them out of here!

- You have the wrong man!

I'm the one who killed
Malcolm MacDonald.

Please, please.

- I went back to the storage
area after the contest.

(suspenseful music)

Malcolm confronted me.

- He was on me immediately.

He said he was my father's
first-born son

and he aimed
to collect his inheritance.

- It's rightfully mine

and I will fight for it.

- And you believe him?

- I didn't know what to believe.

He said my father
had written a letter

that proved what he said.

And the whole time
he was saying this,

he... he was gloating.

He said that I would drop
from second place to third

in the line of inheritance
and how did I like that?

I didn't want to believe him.

That piece of paper
means nothing.

Where's the proof?

- The proof...

is written right here...

in cold...

hard...

steel.

- But then I saw the knife,
how it was his,

how it was a gift...

from our father,

his father.

And how did I like that?
He kept saying that,

over and over again.

(Malcom): How do you like that?

How do you like that?

(intense music)

(struggling grunts)

(Murdoch): You then
seized the knife...

and you stabbed him.

(sullen music)

- I didn't know what I was doing
until I had done it.

(inhales deeply)

My father had nothing
to do with this.

It was me.

(indistinct chatter)

- I found it.
(giggles)

- You went back
to the riverbank?

- I found it in the larder
in a tin of flour.

(giggling)
- Oh, Margaret!

- Did we do the right thing?

- Yes, I think we did.

- The Church...

- Well...

if God finds our poor
Silas Barnes unworthy of heaven,

then I suppose
he'll just throw him out.

- Oh, my goodness.

- Where's bloody Murdoch?

- Perhaps he's taken ill.

I've been feeling a little
under the weather myself, sir.

- Higgins, I don't
want to hear it!

- Tom.

- Oh, sir.

- You did the right thing.

It's not the result I would have
wished for, but...

it was the truth.

That is what we strive for.

- Thank you, sir.

- And, if you've no objection,

I will be recommending
leniency for young Ross.

- No objections from me.

Must have been quite the shock.

- Indeed. But I will
be charging Duncan

with assaulting
Detective Murdoch.

- Where's Alasdair?

- Apparently, he and Iona

left in the middle of the night.
- Oh.

(bagpipes playing)

- I'm ready to go.

- You should have
controlled yourself.

- Aye.
(horses neighing)

- So, why don't we take in
a bit of the games first

before we leave?

- Oh.

Thank you, old friend.

- I'm surprised to see you
still here.

May I ask why?

- Perhaps it's best if the sins
of our past remain buried.

Or forgotten.

- Hm.

- Murdoch, I thought
you'd scarpered.

- Of course not, sir.

I wanted to ensure you had
a chance to win the event.

(Cameron): All right,
lads and lassies.

It's time for the sheaf toss.

(exhales deeply)

(suspenseful Highland music)

(grunting)

- Well done, Detective Murdoch.

(crowd applauding)

(crowd murmuring)

(thudding)

(applause)

- Very good.

(groaning)

(tense Highland music)

(grunting)

(exhales deeply)

(struggling grunts)

- A perfect 12 o'clock!

(applause)

- Give it all you have, Henry.

- Thank you.

(breathing heavily)

(exhales deeply)

(grunting, cracking)

(whimpering)

(thudding)

(crowd murmuring)

(Henry groaning)

- I believe that's all he had.

(high-pitched): Sir!

- Well...

it's all up to you now, Tom.

(Henry whimpering)

- What are you teaching them?

(gentle music)

(grunting)

(crowd murmuring, applauding)

- There he is.

- I feel like a bloody fool!

- You won't when you're tossing
the hammer, sir.

Just dig those spikes in

and they'll give you
the leverage you need.

- Unless I twist my ankle!

- Well, there is that.

- Let's get to it,
Inspector Brackenreid.

The gloaming is coming.

- Right. The yellow flag
is the distance to beat.

- I know that.

(huffing and puffing)

(spits)

- Oh, good form. Good form.

(tense music)

(struggling grunts)

(crowd gasping)

(Murdoch laughing)

(applause)

- Henry, did you see that?!
(Henry yelling in pain)

- Not bad for an Englishman!

- Very good, sir!

Who looks the fool now, eh?

(Brackenreid laughing)

(Stewart): Congratulations.

- Station house number four.

(gentle music)

Sir, we don't have
to charge him.

- This police force
plays no favourites.

(car door creaking)

- Son.

I just wanted to say--

- Let me speak.

This is Iona.

She is to be my bride.

- Alasdair.

- We ran away.

But I couldnae just leave
without telling you.

You do deserve that much.

- I know I'm kin
to the MacDonalds, sir--

- You are not a MacDonald.

You are a girl who loves my son.

And that's enough.

- Aye.

(heartfelt music)

(crickets chirping)

(door opening)

(door closing)

- All hail the conquering hero!
(laughs)

Oh! Ah, are you still
wearing that old thing?

I should get you a new one.

- But I just found it.

- Now, my darling,

you are looking at
the champion hammer thrower

at the Highland Games.

(gasps)
- Oh! Congratulations.

And I must say you do cut quite
a fine figure in that kilt.

- I do, don't I?

- Mm. Is it true what they say?

- Well, let's just say
I can feel the breeze.

(gasping): Thomas!
(laughing)

- Well, I might as well act
like a true Scot.

Now, Mrs. Brackenreid....
- Oh!

- ...are you ready for
a proper Highland Fling?

- Hm. Whoa!

Ah!
(laughing)

(mysterious music)