All language subtitles for Miss.Scarlet.and.the.Duke.S04E05.The.Calling.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-MADSKY

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Good morning, Miss. Post.

Thank you.

Goodness.

Indeed.

Good morning, Eliza.

Clarence.

I hope that's not full of bills?

Applications.

We've had an overwhelming
response

to our advert for new
detectives.

I suppose my reputation does
precede me.

It's more likely they heard of
the female detective.

The advert was quite clear who
they'd be dealing with.

Remind me whose name
is above the door?

Yours. And your sons'.

Well, no time like the present.

Shall we begin?

Oh, this one's good.

Twenty three years
at Bow Street,

what does that tell you?

That he lacks ambition.

Unlike Mr. Samuel Walsh.

Can't spell the word detective.

Or the word criminal.

Or his own name.

Him?

Fired him last year.

Him?

Too young.

He's too old.

Don't trust him.

Don't like him.
Him?

He's been in prison.

Ugh.

Surely, we can at least agree
on this chap?

I've said no to him twice
already.

Stop trying to sneak him
through.

We've been at this all day,

and so far you've liked
none of my choices.

Any more than you've liked
mine.

It'll be me who works with them.

And me who pays for them.
I am the boss.

So you keep reminding me.

Surely some of the applicants
are acceptable to you both?

Ask him.

Ask her.

Good morning.

Morning.

I was just...

practicing my handwriting.

Looked to me like you were
writing a letter.

Fine.

I was writing a letter.

To?

Barnabus.

- Oh.
- Hmm.

Lizzie!

What are you up to?

Why are you writing to
Inspector Wellington?

Because you aren't!

What?

He wrote to me.

He said he's sent you
three letters

and you've not replied
to any of them.

I don't want any breakfast.
I'll be late for work.

Lizzie...

You've not spoken of Inspector
Wellington since he's been gone.

Perhaps it might help to do so?

You're clearly upset and angry
with him...

I'm not upset, nor am I angry.

I'm absolutely fine.

If we are to be together,

then I cannot remain at
Scotland Yard

with you a private detective,

nor can I be around you
anymore without...

without being with you.

Yes?

Err, sorry to disturb,

but Mr. Nash would like you
to meet him right away.

What for?

To meet a new client.

What new client?

Patrick.

Eliza.

What is this place?

This...is the future.

Reception. May I help you?

Reception?

- Yes, Sir.
-Er, Mr. Britton, Sir.

Sir.

Do you know much about
the telephone?

Not much.

I know it was invented in 1875
by Alexander Graham Bell.

There were, of course,
counterclaims

as to who first came up with
the innovation.

But Bell was the first to
patent it.

Nine years on, it's really only
the preserve of the rich

and the privileged, given how
costly it is to install and run.

Although, this year has seen
telephone stations installed

in various public places...

shops, telegraph offices...

A yes or no would have sufficed.

As you say, it's being made
more accessible

to ordinary folk.

It's the new gold rush.

This place is at the forefront.

So, why are we here?

The owner of Britannia wants us
to negate

some rather bad publicity.

Yes Mr. Bracewell.

Err, Mr. Bracewell will see
you now.

Extraordinary.

It certainly is.

Britannia have an engineering
workshop

where they design new
ways to improve their product.

Two days ago it was destroyed
by a gas explosion.

Two men were killed, a young
inventor named Alfred Baker,

and the co-founder of
the company, George Davidson.

So there was a gas leak?

According to the newspapers,

the police think Davidson
lighting his pipe

is what ignited the explosion.

But, as for the gas leak,

it seems someone tampered with
the supply.

And the police believe that
this someone

works here at Britannia?

Not just someone.

Our new client,
Joseph Bracewell.

My aim, Mr. Nash,

is to put
a Britannia telephone

into every household
in the country.

And once we've done that,

we will move into the
international markets.

I applaud your ambition,
Mr. Bracewell.

I must confess, I've not yet
used one of these.

Err, to, to, to help you fully,
Mr. Bracewell,

perhaps we should try it
ourselves?

Be my guest.

Good afternoon,
Britannia Exchange.

What number do you require?

Ask for the stock exchange.

Err, the stock exchange, please.

Connecting you now.
Please wait one moment.

Ask for the latest Britannia
share price.

Stock
Exchange. How can I help you?

Err, please could you advise on
the current share price

for the
Britannia Telephone Company?

One and six.

One and six.

Thank you. Good-bye.

All this dire publicity

is causing the value of my
company to fall by the hour.

Which is why I need you to get
the police off my back,

and find out who is responsible
for this terrible deed.

They have a ridiculous notion

that I wanted George Davidson
dead.

Your business partner?

We founded the company together.

I felt it was time was right
to expand.

To buy out our rivals.

And Mr. Davidson disagreed?

This disagreement was
a minor issue,

not reason for me to kill him.

I gather the police suspect you

because you were supposed to
attend this meeting

with Mr. Davidson,

but you didn't turn up.

We had another argument
that morning.

I simply...wasn't in the mood to
face him.

I spent the afternoon here in
my office.

But that was unusual,
was it not,

that you didn't attend
that weekly meeting?

Unheard of, according to
the newspapers.

Do not believe everything you
read in the newspapers.

Did you have any grievance with
the other man that was killed?

The err, the young inventor,
Alfred Baker?

No!

And for your information,

Alfred wasn't meant to be at
that meeting.

We have to ask these questions,
Mr. Bracewell,

so that we're clear
on all the details of this case.

Well, in that case, let me be
crystal clear with you.

I did not murder
George Davidson.

As for Alfred Baker,

he just designed the telephone

that would make this company
a fortune.

Why on earth would I want
him dead?

Why, in God's name, did you
interrogate him like that?

You clearly weren't going to
ask him anything useful.

I've never seen you so in awe.

I was not in awe, I just think
him an impressive man.

A visionary.

I think him rather unsavory.

Ah, you disagree with my judge
of character.

Quelle surprise.

What of my judgement?

I'm the one who's going to be
running the office.

I should choose my own staff.

Oh, I see. That's what this is
about, is it?

That's the reason for this
latest sulk du jour.

I do not sulk.

We will discuss this matter
another time.

Right now, we need to visit
the crime scene.

Finally, something we agree on.

Go fetch my carriage.

Detective Phelps.

Just the man.

Inspector Phelps, actually.

Well, soon to be.

You're taking over from
Inspector Wellington?

But there's been no formal
announcement.

Just needs to be rubber stamped.

And why hasn't it been?

Well, I'm sure it's just a
matter of time.

May I offer my congratulations

on what will be a well-deserved
promotion.

So, I assume your presence here
is not just to keep me company.

As ever, you assume right.

We've been hired to investigate
the Britannia explosion

and we'd like to take a look at
the crime scene.

I take it your fire experts
have assessed the scene?

Still waiting.

They've been held up elsewhere.

Which is a bugger,

'cause we can't progress with
the case

until they've had a gander.

Well, perhaps in the meantime,

you might allow us to look for
ourselves?

Hmm. Good one.

Now, hop it!

I see the prospect of a
promotion hasn't endowed you

with any more decorum,
Detective Phelps.

Let me give you some advice,
Miss Scarlet,

I'm the skipper now.

So you need to start showing me
a bit of respect.

Oh, I've always seen respect as
something you earn.

Oh, how Miss Scarlet does like
to jest.

You surely know that our
respect for you

is unimpeachable,
Inspector Phelps,

and we would be most grateful...

Under no circumstances let them
inside.

Yes, Sir.

Even if the Queen herself comes
down here

and says you'll be hanged for
treason if you don't...

Still don't let them in.

That went well.

Well, we're not all blessed
with your powers

of duplicity, Patrick.

If by that you mean charm
and persuasion

to keep my business afloat,

then perhaps you
should try it sometime.

Whether you like it or not,

you have to learn to play
the game.

What is wrong with you
at the moment?

This can't just be about
the hiring of staff.

Is this about your Inspector
leaving?

Nothing is wrong with me.

He's not my Inspector.

What I'm about to say,
you may not like...

in fact,
you definitely won't like it.

Well...

Then perhaps you shouldn't
say it.

The work you've had up until
now from Scotland Yard

has been on account of
your friendship

with Inspector Wellington.

I secured that work because
I'm good at what I do.

And I'm not disputing that,

but the fact remains your
friendship helped a great deal.

But now Phelps is in charge,
he's not obliged

- to tolerate you.
- Tolerate me?

Do you want this business to
flourish

under your command or not?

Yes, of course I do.

Then make it your business to
get along with Phelps.

And will you please stop
sulking!

For the last time,
I do not sulk!

Good, because my mother was
a sulker

and it brings back bad memories.

Fine.

What do you want me to do?
Go back to him and grovel?

No. That ship has sailed.

I'll attempt to obtain crime
scene photos

from my usual source.

Well, in the meantime, let's do
some digging on our dead men.

I suggest we start with the
young inventor.

Speak to his widow.

See if anyone had a grudge.

You both look very happy.

How long were you married,
Mrs. Baker?

Six months.

And it's Betty.

Your husband was an avid reader?

He had every book on
engineering imaginable.

They were his pride and joy.

Mrs. Baker...

Betty...

can you think of anyone who had
a grudge against your husband?

Take your time.

Err, Daniel Archer.

He, err, works at Britannia.

Alfred started as his
apprentice.

He was full of resentment

because Britannia wanted to go
with Alfred's design

for their new telephone,
and not his.

His boss Mr. Davidson,
said he'd be famous.

He called it,
'an ingenious invention.'

And Mr. Archer...wasn't happy?

My husband believed he tried to
steal his plans

for the new telephone.

And what made him think that?

He hid them...

under the floorboard
in his office.

As insurance, he said,

on account of it being such
a competitive industry.

Then one day

last month, he found Mr. Archer
in his office,

looking shifty, my husband said.

When he'd gone, Alfred said
the rug

that covered the floorboard
had been disturbed.

How would Mr. Archer have known

where your husband hid his
plans?

Well, Alfred couldn't
work it out.

Mr. Davidson would never
have told anyone.

He was as worried as Alfred

about keeping the new design
a secret.

And where are the plans now?

Alfred moved them.

He didn't tell me where.

But he was certain Mr. Archer
was after them.

So, you're working on
your own design

for Britannia's new telephone,
Mr. Archer?

Hmm. It will be a great
improvement,

most notably in terms of
sound quality and reliability.

I understand Alfred Baker

had designed a new telephone
as well.

They're calling it...
the Upright.

Woeful name.

Well, whatever it was to
be called,

the design was applauded by
the powers that be

here at Britannia.

Alfred Baker was once
your apprentice, was he not?

And I taught him well.

Hmm.

But to have your junior
surpass you...

it's been difficult.

Competition can be a good thing.

Err...

Da Vinci and Michelangelo.

Ingres and Delacroix...

Well, Mr. Bracewell said
his designs

were going to change the world.

But now he and his telephone
are gone,

so the road is clear for you,
Mr. Archer.

Hmm.

I have work to do.

Can you tell us where you were
on the day of the explosion?

- Here. Working on my design.
-Hmm.

Did anyone else see you?

You are not the police,

and I'm not obliged to talk
to you.

And will you please stop
touching my things!

Well, we now know
he has a temper.

First rule of being a private
investigator -

deliberately vex the suspect
to test their temperament.

Patrick...

I can just about take you
advising me

on my business skills,

but please do not presume to
lecture me on deduction.

There's an article in here about
Britannia's current telephone.

Apparently, there were three
main issues:

cost, sound quality and tendency
to short circuit.

No wonder Bracewell was
so desperate for a new model.

Clarence did some digging on
Bracewell's partner,

- George Davidson.
- And?

He has no family,
no close relations,

no financial issues
or known grudges.

Well, apart from the one held by
his business partner,

- Joseph Bracewell...
- Forget the client.

We need to concentrate...
on Daniel Archer.

He has a clear motive -
he wanted to remove his rival.

And he has no alibi.

He should be our prime suspect.

Delivery from your friend
at the Met.

Thank you.

Hmm, these are good.

They're very good.

- The crime scene?
- Yeah.

How peculiar.

What?

That looks like a scorch mark

from where the gas was ignited.

So?

Well, if, as the
police...suspect,

it was Davidson's pipe that
ignited the gas,

why is the scorch mark on
the opposite side of the room

from the bodies?

Hurry up, you useless vermin!

We haven't got all day!

Good morning,
Detective Phelps.

Yeah, it was,
before you turned up.

We wondered if the Britannia
explosion

had been assessed yet by your
fire expert?

They're now stuck with a factory
blaze in bloody St. Albans.

- Get a move on!
-Come on!

Dare I say it, Detective Phelps,

you seem a little overstretched.

That's one word for it.

Let us lighten your load.

We can help with
the Britannia case.

I don't need your help.

And let you take all the credit.

Ten minutes at the crime scene.

That's all you're getting.

Good, aren't I?

Something around this area
must have caused the spark.

Someone has cut the insulation
off these wires.

Why would they do that?

'Prone to short circuit when
connected.'

It's one of the known faults of
the Britannia telephone.

That's what ignited the gas,
Patrick.

It wasn't Davidson's pipe.

It was a phone call.

Which means whoever made
that call is our murderer.

2,512 telephones in operation
in London.

How do you know these things?

I do research, Patrick.

You should try it sometime.

The question is...

from which telephone
was the fatal call made?

I understand the telephone
exchange log all call details,

so, customers can be
charged accordingly.

So, they might be able to help
us narrow it down.

- It's worth a try.
- Hmm.

Provided we can persuade them
to show us their call log.

I suspect all calls are treated
confidentially, and...

we don't have a warrant.

Inspector Bates, Scotland Yard,
at your service, Madam.

Oh...are there any other
officers available?

Inspector Bates has an
excellent track record.

Well...he definitely works
best alone.

So, while he visits
the exchange,

I'll continue my research into
the telephone.

Hmm.

See if I can glean any further
insight

into Alfred Baker's new design.

What?

I much prefer it when you're
not sulking.

I don't sulk.

I brood.

I know we've been at odds over
the hiring of staff,

but you've not been yourself
lately.

Is it the Inspector?

The fact that he's gone?

Inspector Bates is waiting.

Yes, Madam.

-Can I help you?
-Yes, of course.

Good afternoon.

Which number do you require?
Certainly, Sir.

Please hold.

Mr. Underwood?

Yes?

Inspector Bates, Scotland Yard.

How do you do, Inspector?

This is quite the operation
you've got here.

Never seen one of those before.

Err, they allow me to listen in,

ensure that my operators are
performing at their best.

How may I help you, Inspector?

I'm investigating the Britannia
murders.

You read about them?

I have.

Terrible business.

We need to identify the source
of a particular telephone call,

so, I'd be grateful to look at
your call log

for the day in question,

the 21st of September.

Yes, Inspector. One moment.

I'll just fetch the logbook.

Sorry, Inspector...

it just occurred to me, I err...

well, I should really
see your warrant first.

My warrant?

As you can appreciate,
all our calls are confidential.

It's more than my job's worth,
err, to break protocol,

unless, of course, you have
a warrant?

Alright, fine. I'm not an
inspector from Scotland Yard.

But if you allow me to see
the call log,

I'll make it worth your while.

If you're not a policeman,
then what the hell are you?

I am a private detective.

A what?

And don't even think about
coming back again!

You're lucky I'm not reporting
you to the police!

A copy of Alfred Baker's
contract with Britannia.

Oh.

Umm...

- Oh, shall I...
- Err, yes.

Got it, got it.

Thank you.

Have you read this, Clarence?

Yeah, briefly.

George Davidson and
Joseph Bracewell

were each going to receive 45%
of the profits

from this new telephone.

While Mr. Baker, the genius
that invented it,

just got just 10%.

Err, my contact at Britannia

insisted on a bottle of
Lynch-Bages '64

in exchange for that
contract,

so, I...I will, of course, be
charging that to the company?

Oh, just charge it to Mr. Nash.

"Upon death, an individual
share of profits

will be distributed equally
among surviving parties."

You know what this means?

No doubt I will end up paying
for that bottle of wine myself.

No, it means that
Joseph Bracewell

is now entitled to all
the profits

from Alfred Baker's telephone.

Oh, I'm...I'm sorry to disturb
you, Miss Scarlet.

What is it, Betty?

I came back from visiting
Alfred's mother.

The poor woman's
in such a state.

And as I walked in,
I heard someone

going out the back door.

Terrified, I was.

But when I went to check,
whoever it was had already gone.

I did contact the police, but...

They still haven't come.

They're a little overstretched
at the moment,

but you did the right thing
coming to me.

And are you sure that nothing's
missing?

Nothing that I can see.

They didn't touch my
jewelry case.

Not that I've got much.

Have you rearranged these
at all?

That was Alfred's favorite
set of books.

Where's volume two?

It was...definitely there
before.

Inspector Bates,
I presume?

I hear Inspector Bates was
thwarted,

so you resorted to plan B.

Hmm.

I went through all my files
twice,

to see if I knew anyone else
who worked here.

So I hear. You left the office
in quite a mess.

Clarence was not happy.

So, you found someone?

The night shift manager,
an Elmer Goodheart.

Not that there's anything good
about him.

A few years back I put him away
for fraud.

His shift starts at eight
o'clock.

And Clarence said Miss Baker
had a break-in.

What was taken?

The only thing missing was
a book.

Inventions That Changed
the World: Volume Two.

That's it?

Yes.

But I have a theory.

Oh, good.

I like it when you say that.

It makes me feel warm inside.

Have you finished?

Yes.

I think the book contained
the plans

for Alfred's new telephone
design.

The ones that Daniel Archer
was after.

Well, there he is.

Elmer Goodheart.

I'm sure he's going to be
delighted to see me.

That's the supervisor I spoke
to, Mr. Underwood.

-Mr. Underwood.
-Hi, Charles.

Thank you.

He's only a manager,

and yet he can afford his own
carriage?

Striking, isn't it?

It certainly is.

The 21st of September.

I appreciate your assistance,
Mr. Goodheart.

The handwriting is incredibly
neat.

Hmm.

The explosion happened at
thirty-six minutes past two...

Here.

A call was made to the Britannia
Engineering Workshop,

from the...

Britannia Telephone Company.

Office of J. Bracewell.

Damn it.

On no account can we speak to
Mr. Bracewell about this.

Of course, we speak to him,
Patrick.

He's our prime suspect.

He's also a client,
and a well-paying one at that.

No.

We keep our sights on
Daniel Archer.

Joseph Bracewell benefits
financially

from the two deaths.

He's admitted to being
in his office,

with his telephone,
at the time of the explosion.

And both you and I agree that
whoever made that phone call

was almost certainly
the murderer.

If we accuse Bracewell
of murder,

he will fire us and we'll lose
our fee!

But we'll be doing our jobs.

No, your job is to do what's
best for my business,

and I'm ordering you to say
nothing to Bracewell.

- Ordering me?
- Yes.

We stay on Archer!

It's laughable.

He constantly corrects me
and tells me how to behave,

and yet what he's doing
is completely immoral.

I've never met anyone
so bloody-minded and pigheaded!

And before you say anything, no,
I'm not either of those things,

so, I'll thank you to
keep your opinions to yourself.

I didn't say anything.

You didn't have to.

Inspector Wellington wrote to
me again.

He wants to know if you're
upset with him.

Why is he asking you?

Well, he tried asking you
and got no response.

Lizzie, no matter what you say,
I know that you're angry.

When you were a little girl...

I do not need a story from my
childhood

cleverly designed to teach me
a life lesson as an adult.

You have no idea what
the story was going to be.

It was going to be about
the dog, wasn't it?

Fine.

You know so much, you can
sort things out for yourself.

Nothing to sort out.

Inspector Wellington has left,

and when he returns we shall
talk and, in the meantime,

I have no intention
of replying to his letters.

Because you're angry with him?

Fine!

I am angry!

He shouldn't have left!

He should have stayed
here and we could have...

Could have what?

I don't know.

And there's your answer.

What is?

The reason why he left.

He went away for your sake,
as well as his,

so, you both could have had
time to work out

what it is you really want.

He's a good man, Lizzie.

He doesn't deserve you
ignoring him like this.

Oh, so all the fault lies with
me, does it?

- Thank you for your loyalty.
- Lizzie...

I've fed up with you,
Patrick Nash,

and everyone else
pointing out my faults,

and telling me how to behave

as though I'm completely
incapable

of making my own decisions!

Well, of course, Mr. Bracewell.

Mr. Bracewell will see you now.

Do you often accuse your client
of murder?

I'm not accusing you,
Mr. Bracewell.

I'm just looking at the
evidence, and it is compelling.

You stood to gain all profits
from the new telephone

on the death of Mr. Davidson...
and Mr. Baker.

Well, I'm the bearer of bad
news,

because if that call came from
this telephone,

then it couldn't have been
me who made it.

Because...I was in Ealing.

Ealing?

It was at the
United Telephone Company.

I've been involved in secret
negotiations to buy them out.

Then why not tell myself
and Mr. Nash that

in the first place?

Because it's a highly
competitive industry,

and I didn't want to harm
the deal.

It's not yet been sealed.

Perhaps you could also explain
how I can profit

from a telephone
that no longer exists?

Mr. Baker made a copy of
his plans,

which I'm sure you well know.

I did not know.

Here's how this is going to
work, Miss Scarlet.

You will bring me Alfred Baker's
plans...immediately.

If you do not,

I will let Mr. Nash know
I'm firing his agency.

Where have you been?

Ealing.

Well, while you've been gone,

we received...this telegram
from Mr. Bracewell.

He advises, albeit politely,
that we're fired.

How dare you disregard
my instructions.

You gave me no choice.

I was doing my job.

Your job is to build this
business, not lose us clients.

What the hell is in Ealing,
anyway?

Um, well, I was checking on
Mr. Bracewell's new alibi.

And?

It stands up.

Where are you going?

To try and persuade Bracewell
to reconsider.

If you are to run this agency,

you must first and foremost
be a businesswoman.

And I will not be returning
to Paris

until you convince me you
understand this!

Oh, Mr. Nash...

Mr. Nash! Miss Scarlet?

Not now, Clarence.

I've just had word from
my source at the bank.

He informs me that Daniel Archer

has been making regular
cash withdrawals

over the last six months.

I said not now, Clarence.

Yes, but just one more thing...

Mr. Archer took out a large sum
of cash

from his bank account not
one hour ago.

Pleasure doing business
with you.

What on earth...?

I found this in your drawer,
Mr. Archer.

It's Alfred Baker's favorite
book, I gather.

And one which was stolen
from his bookcase.

As I suspected,

this is where Alfred
hid the plans

for his new telephone.

You want to make Alfred Baker's
design

and pass it off as your own.

Alfred could never have
designed that telephone

without my tutelage, so...

why should it be that he
gets all the credit?

I just witnessed you giving
Mr. Underwood something.

Money, I suspect.

Show me the contents of that
envelope he gave you,

and perhaps I won't report you
to the police.

This is Pitman shorthand.

My father made me study it.

It's transcripts from phone
calls.

Got one involving Alfred Baker
in conversation with his boss,

George Davidson.

This is how you knew where
he hid his plans, isn't it?

And to pass yourself off as
the inventor of his telephone,

you needed him dead.

That's not true!

And you have absolutely
no proof that it was me!

Well, the good news is

I've managed to
calm Bracewell down.

To do so, I had to paint you
as, well...

Let me guess...insubordinate?

On second thoughts,
it's perhaps best I do not share

with you the exact
words I used to describe you.

You were right.

Of course, I was.

About what?

Daniel Archer.

Now we just have to prove that
he's the murderer.

I thought I told you to leave.

And now I see you've brought
your wife.

I'm not his wife.

We know you're being paid by
people like Archer

to transcribe the conversations
of private telephone calls.

A call was made to the Britannia
Workshop on 21st of September.

It caused the explosion there.

Did Daniel Archer
make that call?

I don't know.

I don't know anything,
I swear it.

Do these belong to you?

Yes, but they're just
timesheets for the girls.

It's not the contents that
interests me, Mr. Underwood,

but rather the...neatness
of the handwriting.

We'd like to take another look
at the logbook

for the 21st of September.

The other days are varied
with...

different handwriting,

various operators, I assume.

The day of the murder has
been filled entirely

by one person.

You, Mr. Underwood.

Why?

I was told to.

This blackmail letter was
delivered to me

on the night of that explosion,

threatening to expose me.

Ordering you to amend the
details of the call made

to the Britannia Workshop...

to say that it came from
Joseph Bracewell's office.

In order to do that,

I had to replace
the whole page in the logbook

and fill in the entire day
myself.

So, where did the call really
come from?

From a public telephone in
Farringdon.

Whoever wrote that blackmail
note must be our murderer.

They clearly knew about his
'sideline.'

Maybe it's someone who
works here?

My thoughts exactly.

I'll go back in and compare
the handwriting

of the blackmail letter
against the call log.

While you do that,
I'll go to Farringdon.

With any luck, whoever runs
the public phones there

will keep records.

A talented detective...

with the upmost integrity.

What?

They were the words I used to
describe you to Bracewell.

We don't keep records
of calls made.

How often is this telephone
used?

Not much.

People round here,

they don't really understand it.

Hmm.

You had a customer here
three days ago, on the 21st.

Early afternoon?

Hmm, do you remember the person?

Absolutely.

Got you.

B. L.

It's the same handwriting
as the blackmail letter.

Yeah.

Elizabeth Landing.

She was an operator here
until about six months ago.

Left to get married.

Ooh.

Are you suggesting that she was
the one

that wrote me the letter?

Almost certainly.

Who is she?

Her fiancé worked at Britannia.

Why has she signed her name
B and not E?

Because she called herself
Betty.

You wanted Davidson
and Bracewell dead.

But Alfred...

that was an accident, wasn't it?

Alfred was never meant to be
at that meeting.

But his boss must have
called him in last minute.

I had no idea...

You stole the keys...

to Alfred's workshop.

You primed the telephone to
spark,

punctured the gas pipe
and left...

...knowing that by
the afternoon,

when Bracewell and Davidson
came for their meeting,

the workshop would be a bomb...

ready to explode.

Then you made the call.

Ten percent!

That's all they gave him.

Ten percent for all the time
and all the work he put in.

I just wanted Alfred to have
what he deserved.

It was so unfair.

Do what you want with me.

My life's over now, anyway.

I killed my husband.

My own...beloved...husband.

I said get in there,
you toe-rag!

You too, you bloody idiot!

I don't think I can do this.

We gave Phelps our word.

If we give Phelps the credit,
it could seal his promotion.

Is that really what we want,
to be dealing with him?

It'll be you dealing with him.

So, you need to give him
the win.

Detective Phelps.

Miss Scarlet.

You got something for me?

The evidence is all in here.

And...just remind me...

who solved this case?

You did, Detective Phelps.

And did I get any help?

At all?

No, Detective Phelps.

That's the right answer.

What's going on?

Oh, I contacted the applicants
you favored.

They're here for the interview.

Well, where are you going?

They'll be working for you.

You should be the one
to choose your staff.

Let's just call it a...
show of faith.

Thank you, Patrick.

Oh, I had that installed.

I thought it might be helpful.

What, to keep checks on me
when you return to Paris?

Why must you always think
the worst of me?

I am simply a man at
the forefront of innovation.

Well, it's no matter.
The technology is still far off

being able to place a call
overseas.

But as a man at the forefront
of innovation,

you, of course, knew that.

Of course, I did.

What are you doing?

Helping.

So...

Are you still angry with me?

Are you still angry with me?

I asked first.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have gone
behind your back like that.

I just thought I was doing
the right thing.

I know, and I understand why
you did it.

And you're right.

I...Inspector Wellington
leaving has caused me some...

upset.

And you miss him?

I'm only saying this because
I love you,

but I think replying to him
would make you feel better.

I think you're right.

Well, you're always right.

I keep saying that to Barnabus,
but will he listen?

Ivy, I hate cauliflower.

You'll eat what I cook for you,
young lady.

Good evening.
My name is Miss Scarlet.

I believe you are...

an associate of my father's.

He said there'd be food.

Err, yes, I...cooked a smoked
ham this afternoon.

I'll cut you a slice.

Dear William,

I'm happy to hear

things are going well for you
in New York.

It's been an interesting
week here.

But...

on balance, a good one.