Original subtitles

I'm so excited for Victoria Day.

The city just comes alive.

You said the same thing about Easter.

Well, the city comes alive at Easter, too.

Is there nothing about holidays that excites you?

Well, there is one thing.

You come alive.

Moving pictures.

When are they going to give up on that?

- Nobody likes them. - I quite like the pictures.

I once saw one with creatures from Mars.

Ooh.

Oh, I hear there's gonna be vaudeville tonight.

Acts from all over.

Now, that sounds alright.

- Nomi? - How lovely.

Certainly.

Thomas, isn't that that Inspector?

The one whose wife has the glass eye?

Ah, I think so.

They were so charming. We should go say hello.

Not right now, Margaret.

Why not?

I owe the inspector a few dollars.

Ah, excuse me, ladies.

I need to have a word with Murdoch.

Sir, you're just in time. I have an announcement.

Spit it out then, Higgins.

Ruth is with child!

Oh. Congratulations, Henry.

Ah, procreation.

The human race is nothing if not relentless.

That's marvelous.

I didn't think you had it in you, Higgins.

Congratulations.

That's terrific, Henry.

But shouldn't cigars and celebrations wait

till the actual birth?

I mean, not just at the announcement

of something still months away?

Who cares! We'll have cigars and celebrate every day.

To Hieronymous Higgins-Newsome!

No, no, it's all wrong.

Where did we find you wet-brains?

Were you grown on a dirt farm?

George, that's...

Obie Stratford!

A-ha, some fans of vaud, I see.

I hope you'll all be at the show tonight.

I've got acts coming in from all over,

not to mention yours truly.

Ah, look at this lovely lady.

I tell you, the way ladies dress in the big cities these days,

whoo-wee.

I tell you, if styles keep advancing

I hope I live five years longer.

Is that meant to be funny?

I believe the joke lies in the incongruence

- of the lasciviousness. Just enjoy it.

Obie Stratford is the biggest star in vaudeville.

That's right.

And tonight, all the biggest stars will be gathered here.

But none will shine as bright as Obie Stratford!

Oh, what in God's name?!

My God. He's dead.

It would appear he fell out of that fourth-story window.

Fell or jumped.

Perhaps he wasn't a fan of vaudeville.

Like yourself.

He was a vaudevillian, I'd wager.

This is the hotel where I'm putting up all the acts.

So, you know him?

No.

Comics are a depressed lot.

You put enough of us in the same place,

one of us is bound to jump out a window.

Detective, I think your line of questioning may need adjustment.

Oh? What have you, Miss Hart?

The man was dead before he fell.

Cause of death?

I can't be certain yet.

But the presence of petechiae

and what appears to be a metallic contact burn

suggests electrocution.

Curious.

I feel awful.

I know in my head I'm glad for Higgins

but when he told us, I felt bad.

He has something you hope to also have someday in your life.

A moment of jealousy is perfectly normal, George.

Did you feel the same?

- No. - Honestly?

Do you know me as a man prone to fabrications?

I believe this is it.

Suicide note.

"I can't take it anymore. Goodbye."

Written in block letters.

The bathtub is empty but the mirror is still fogged,

and there's wet towels on the floor.

This lamp is broken.

So the man had a bath, either pulled the lamp in,

or it fell in somehow.

Either way, he died of electrocution,

cleaned things up, and jumped out the window.

Not likely.

Was there any identification?

I can tell you the man's name. Kenny McClusky.

How did you know him?

I'm staying at the hotel. I met him last night.

Absolute riot.

The only amusing man in the city other than yours truly.

And you are?

I'm the funniest man in the world.

Charlie Chaplin.

What happened to the poor sucker?

Who wants to know?

Arthur Carmichael.

Charmed.

Carmichael.

I knew your father.

Really?

Sad business, that.

I can't say I cared for him.

Nor did I.

You're that city coroner, aren't you?

I've heard of you.

Good for you.

The coroner's office does not release any information

on pending cases to the public.

McClusky was just off the train from Detroit.

Said he didn't know a soul in Toronto.

If he knew no one here, who would have wanted to kill him?

I don't know.

But Kenny knew how to make enemies.

He was an insult comic.

His whole act was making fun.

Did you see him insult anyone last night?

I certainly did.

There was one man in particular who was hopping mad.

William, there you are.

Any developments?

As a matter of fact,

Mr. Chaplin is taking us to a person of interest.

Indeed, and if you'll pardon my interruption, here he is now.

You there, what was your name again?

Ed Ward!

- You're Ed Ward? You said it, pal.

You're not Ed Ward.

We've met Ed Ward, and you, sir, are not he.

It must be a different Edward.

- What's your surname? - I just told you.

My name is Ed Ward!

He is Mr. Ward, given name "Ed."

Ed Ward. Ha ha.

Oh, that's quite clever.

Did you simply steal Mr. Ward's name and persona?

Steal? Of course not. I bought it.

The name, the image, the props -- the whole she-bang.

You paid money for...

Mr. Ward, I understand that you met a Mr. McClusky

in the hotel bar last night.

Kenny? Yes, that's right.

Threw himself out a window, did he?

Well, we're not so sure about that.

Fess to it, man.

You almost killed Kenny last night with your bare hands.

I did no such thing.

He likened your hair to a mass of dead rats,

and you just about throttled him.

Mr. Chaplin, please. I'll conduct this interview.

I wasn't angry at him for that.

I was angry because he was a disrespectful half-wit

who wouldn't know real vaud if he sat on it.

- Oh, dear!

It's my --

Flatulence sack.

Hilarious.

Anyway, the man was alive and well last I saw him.

He was wandering off with the kid here,

and his little friend, who, by the way,

also seemed pretty annoyed with McClusky.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have no intention

of touching this investigation with a 10 --

nay, 11-foot pole!

An 11-foot pole?

For the things I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole!

Something worse --

worse than he would touch with a 10-foot pole.

Mr. Chaplin.

Your friend was also annoyed with Mr. McClusky last night?

Yes, that's true.

But Stanley wouldn't hurt a fly.

Detective.

This is my understudy and my best friend

in the whole wide world.

Don't just stand there, introduce yourself,

you simpering clod.

Sorry, yes.

Stanley Laurel.

Lovely to meet you, Mr. Laurel.

It's devilishly hot in here, isn't it?

No.

Need I write a statement, so you have a record, Detective?

That won't be necessary at this time, Mr. Laurel.

Now, I understand you met with Mr. Chaplin

and Mr. McClusky last night?

Only for about an hour or so.

It's true I was rather cross with Kenneth.

He called Charles a nasty name.

I shan't repeat it, of course.

Fat-headed dope.

It isn't true, Charlie.

Oh, dear.

That's why it's funny.

Like when I call you an upside-down half-wit

or a desiccated cow-pat.

Well, I don't care for hearing my friend

referred to in such a manner.

Now, Mr. Laurel,

when did you last see Mr. McClusky?

When Charles and I told him goodnight.

But I did hear him later on.

- There was an argument. - What? When?

This was after you went to sleep, Charlie.

In the hall at the hotel.

A screaming match, really.

- What about? - I don't know.

But it involved Mr. McClusky.

Yes. He was arguing with Obie Stratford.

Damn it, Stanley!

You, you -- you're paying to have this cleaned.

You simpering little clod!

They're both just so funny!

Ah.

I'm afraid I won't be attending the vaudeville tonight.

No? Why's that?

Something came up.

Margaret was quite looking forward to it.

So was I. Having you with us, I mean.

Maybe another time.

No --

My apologies.

I noticed a curious...

Something the matter?

No.

You can confide in me.

I was out with my daughter when I saw a fellow inspector.

She knew that I was avoiding him because...

It's happened before.

It's strange, isn't it?

The things we've been told to pretend don't exist.

I find it hard lying and hiding things.

How do you do it, Watts?

The same as you.

I feel bloody awful.

Precisely.

Mr. Stratford, a witness overheard you arguing

with the deceased last night at the hotel.

And yet you told me that you had never met him.

I never said that.

I said I didn't know him.

Meeting someone in passing is not the same as knowing them.

You argued.

What about?

He greased someone's palm and ended up with my room.

"Your" hotel room?

I'm the host. I'm the biggest name in vaud.

I arrive and they've given my suite to some kid from Detroit?

- So the argument became heated. - And so what of it?

The manager knew who I was. He handled things.

Yes, but Mr. McClusky ended up dead.

Maybe he killed himself because he didn't like his hotel room.

He did not defenestrate himself, Mr. Stratford.

He was murdered.

Well, I got what I wanted.

Why would I kill him?

Perhaps he insulted you.

You became angry.

I don't get angry! I --

I was standing right here when the man nearly fell on my head!

How in God's name am I meant to have killed him?

Rather choleric chap.

He does make a good point though, sir.

I don't see how it could have been him.

Perhaps he had help.

Oi! You there! Stop!

What is it, George?

Sir, I was sure I saw someone back here with a knife.

With a knife?

Yes, I'm not sure what he was doing with --

Look, George. This rope.

He was trying to cut it. But why?

It's tied off here, to these counterweights

and connected to that large beam.

Sir, if he'd made it through the rope...

It would have fallen directly onto Mr. Chaplin.

Dear God.

Has someone just tried to kill me?

This is mad. Why would anybody want to kill me?

I don't know.

But this must connect back to Mr. McClusky in some way.

Mr. Chaplin, what room are you staying in, in the hotel?

416. Why?

I think I know what happened.

Come with me.

416.

But this isn't my room.

No.

But it was Mr. McClusky's room.

Room 419.

The killer mistook it for 416.

Indeed.

Then the killer, thinking he was in Mr. Chaplin's room,

stalked toward the tub,

again, expecting to find Mr. Chaplin inside.

He throws the lamp into the bath, electrocutes the chap,

and only afterwards realized he's got the wrong man.

I don't mean to dwell on the issue,

but are you saying someone tried to kill me twice?

Let's assume that the killer was indeed trying

to kill Mr. Chaplin in both incidences.

George?

I apologize, sir.

I'm preoccupied with how poorly I took Higgins' news.

Ah, yes.

I too have had unwanted feelings from time to time.

About this very issue.

Children, you mean?

Well, yes, George.

Seeing how happy Henry is,

it's only natural that one would feel disappointed

that you don't have that for yourself.

But there are other joys in life.

Some of which one may not be able to truly appreciate

if he were to be carrying the responsibilities of parenting.

Yes, I suppose that makes sense, sir.

I still feel what's missing, from time to time.

But when I look at it in the bigger picture of my life...

I can't help but feel grateful.

And satisfied that things are the way they are.

And if that doesn't work,

you can always try keeping your mind occupied.

Yes, sir. Right.

You know, I was thinking, after our last run-in

with these vaudeville types, it seems to me jealousy

and resentment run rampant among them.

Professional jealousy could be a motive.

Yes. But furthermore, sir,

Mr. Chaplin is a young man.

So too was our victim.

Perhaps the old guard are feeling threatened.

Who among the old guard would be willing to kill

to protect his position?

You think I'm killing young performers?

For what, to save my job? That's madness!

I've been trying to retire for years.

I can't!

Sure, Ed Ward could take over the show.

But what would people be watching?

Just a prop comic and who, Charlie Chaplin?

Who's going to want to watch that?

Well, is it possible, Mr. Stratford,

that some of the less successful performers

felt they were being supplanted by these younger acts?

Could someone have a professional grudge

against Charlie Chaplin?

Who would bother?

Look, I don't know if I can be any clearer about this --

These kids, they're not funny.

Detective, there's a man who says he witnessed

someone holding a knife near the stage.

Ah, very good.

Stop! What are you doing to him?

Perhaps I should look into that.

- I'll go with you. - Thank you.

Julia.

Mr. Ward.

Oh, William, watch him.

He's hilarious.

Mr. Ward.

I understand you're an eyewitness.

Yes. I saw someone with a knife

skulking around backstage earlier.

Who was it?

Well, I couldn't see the man's face, only his silhouette.

But his hat was rather distinctive.

How so?

Hold on, I have one just like it.

No, no.

It's here somewhere.

Mr. Ward.

Oh. Here.

This is it.

A derby just like this,

except the brim was bent.

Like so.

May I see that?

Sure thing.

I think I have another one in here anyway.

Julia, really?

He's funny!

Please. Even I'm funnier than that.

I'm sorry.

Ohh.

Oi! That's enough!

I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, Pa!

Break it up. Break it up.

Alright, sir, you're coming with us.

Take him away, McNabb.

Police have got it out of hand.

You danged melon heads! What do you think you're doing?

We're stopping your father from beating the tar out of you.

He's not beating me.

It's a show, you morons!

I'm fine. Look.

Ohh.

- Huh. - That's incredible!

It is all part of an act.

Sure. We're a family act.

That was my pa, Joe Keaton.

And I'm Buster.

Most impressive.

Constable, bring him back!

Don't worry, son, we'll let your father go.

Just a moment. George, who is this young man?

Uh, Buster Keaton, sir.

Oh. Master Keaton?

- Is that your hat? - Sure.

Well, only since lunchtime.

Oh. Give it to me, please.

Finders keepers. That's the law, ain't it?

Not really, no.

It's monogrammed.

The pie is Fred's gag, Stanley.

We need something new.

I had an idea about bread rolls and dinner forks, but...

Ah, Detective!

Gentlemen.

Do either of your recognize this hat?

It could be anyone's. Why?

This hat matches exactly the description of the one

worn by the saboteur.

- This hat? - Yes.

And it has a monogram inside.

The initials SL.

Now, hold on.

Stanley.

This is your hat.

You tried to kill me!

No. No.

Mr. Laurel, you are coming with me.

It is my hat, Detective.

But I swear to you, I would never hurt Charlie.

The attempted murderer was seen wearing this hat.

You see, I was rather frantic.

I found someone who recommended a cleaners

to get that blasted ink out of Charlie's shirt.

And I wrote the directions on a piece of paper

and put the paper inside my hat.

But on my way, I got rather turned round

and retrieved the paper from my hat

and somewhere in the process

managed to lose it.

My hat, I mean.

You put down your hat, retrieved your piece of paper,

and in so doing, somehow lost your hat.

Oh, I am forever losing things, Detective.

I swear to you it's true.

Why would I want to hurt Charlie?

Professional rivalry.

You are, after all, Mr. Chaplin's understudy.

It is an honor and a privilege

to learn from someone so talented.

Charlie Chaplin is my best friend.

Sir, we've spoken with the other members of the troupe.

And it appears Mr. Chaplin is not a considerate colleague.

The others didn't like him?

- There is animosity. - Now, that's it.

Mr. Laurel worships the ground on which Charlie Chaplin walks.

Maybe one of the others did it.

Well, Mr. Chaplin and Mr. Laurel arrived ahead of the others.

The rest only arrived this afternoon.

So, what do you think?

Did this Laurel chap do it or not?

He doesn't seem capable, sir.

He's entirely deferential and clumsy and clueless.

Well, that's what he wants us to believe, George.

He is a performer, after all.

But all we have for evidence is a hat, which he says he lost.

It's true.

Our only evidence is circumstantial at best.

The vaudeville show is tonight.

If he didn't do it, it would be a shame to keep him away.

The question is is he funny?

Julia seems to think so.

Release him.

Me and the missus want to see a good show.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Alright, George, perhaps you and Watts

should go to the vaudeville tonight.

Oh, yes, sir.

But don't be distracted by the show.

You must keep your eyes on Mr. Laurel at all times.

Right.

Nomi, I know why you're upset.

It was obvious why I avoided the inspector.

You have to understand that men like him

wouldn't accept the idea of you being my daughter.

You mean he wouldn't accept you if he knew I was your daughter.

- That's right. - I know.

I'm not angry.

Well, then come to the vaudeville tonight.

And what would happen if the same situation were to arise?

You can't say you wouldn't do the same thing again.

- No. - Or perhaps this time

he'll approach you, expecting an introduction.

- What then? - I don't know.

I don't think I'll be attending the vaudeville tonight.

- Nomi, you have to understand -- - I do.

You made a difficult choice.

And I'm not saying what you did was wrong.

It's the world we live in.

Yes.

And it made clear what we both know to be true.

That we can't be family in public.

And if we are to try,

it would only be painful for both of us.

Excuse me, Father.

Higgins. Hold up a moment, Henry.

- What is it, George? - Look.

I wasn't feeling myself when you gave us your big news.

And I just wanted you to know

that I am truly delighted for you.

I mean, it may be the greatest thing

that can happen in a man's life, and, well, you deserve it.

Cigars are appropriate every step of the way.

Thank you, George. I knew you'd be excited for me.

That's why I wanted you to be Hieronymous' godfather.

Really?

Wanted.

Ruthie vetoed it.

Vetoed?

Miss Hart, isn't it?

Would you care for some company?

- Why would I want that? - You seem to be alone.

I'm going to watch the vaudeville tonight.

Company would only hinder my enjoyment.

Well, that depends on the company.

Maybe it would be better than the show.

That would have to be some awfully impressive company.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

How are you?

Very nice to see you indeed.

This is Obie Stratford's vaudeville revue...

I'll only be a moment, gents. I need to find my things.

Wherever have they got to?

What exactly are you looking for, Mr. Laurel?

My case.

Everything's moved round.

Your suitcase?

Yes, brown, yea big.

Alright, we'll help you look.

Your nose is a deeper maroon than my hat.

Slow down on the drinking, sir.

You'll drive your horse into a bale of hay.

- I kid, sir, I kid.

My father once told me, he said, "Son, you should always know

when to stop if you're going to drink,"

and I said "I do know when to stop.

At the next place I come to."

That's right.

This is heavy.

What kind of act uses iron gates?

Look.

It's all been placed right beneath the trap door.

Look at this. It's barely held in by a single nail.

I'd Like to bring him out right now.

His name is Charles Chaplin!

Please welcome Charlie Chaplin.

Come on out here, Charlie.

Why is Obie Stratford sharing the stage?

- He's a monologuist. - I don't know.

But if Chaplin steps on this, he'll fall right through.

And onto these gates.

Thank you, ladies and gents!

Wait! Wait!

What? What's happening down there?

Stop! Somebody is trying to kill you!

What?

I said somebody is trying to kill you!

Constable George Crabtree, everyone!

We had barely begun!

Did you really have to call off my entire show?

This trap door was deliberately sabotaged

so that the moment someone stepped on it,

they would have fallen through onto dangerous iron gates.

Mr. Chaplin could have been killed.

That had nothing to do with me.

Why did you invite Mr. Chaplin onto the stage?

I felt like giving the kid a break.

It wasn't planned.

No one, even Mr. Chaplin, it seems,

knew that it was going to happen.

Meaning you are the only person

who could have lured Mr. Chaplin to his death.

I like the kid.

He's at least a little funnier than the others.

Which could be precisely why you are trying to kill him.

This again?

How could it have been me who cut one of these ropes

when I was with you the whole time?

You could have had an accomplice,

just as you had someone make a show

of nearly crushing you with Mr. McClusky's body

right here on the stage.

Ridiculous.

Unless you have proof of any of this, I'm leaving.

Look, I'm a young man.

I know I'm not known to every household in America.

But I'll tell you this -- every town I arrive in,

I'm more famous when I leave.

And I leave many pleased in my wake.

Women love a man with a sense of humor.

So long as he is also terribly handsome.

Look at this.

Tonight I performed for barely 30 seconds

before the show came to a halt.

A young lady still left me a note

hoping for a romantic rendezvous.

That is quite something.

May I see that?

How do you know it's from a young lady?

It could be from an old lady.

Or a young man.

Jealous, Detective?

Mr. Chaplin, I believe this could be a ruse.

Whatever do you mean?

Someone is trying to kill you.

And immediately following their latest failed attempt,

you receive an invitation to meet someone,

alone, in a secluded place.

Oh, my.

Sir, are you suggesting this note invites Charlie Chaplin

to a rendezvous with death?

I wouldn't put it quite that dramatically, but yes.

Well, that's settled.

Rip it up. I shan't be going.

Actually, Mr. Chaplin, I believe you will go.

The rendezvous is set to take place at this park bench, here.

Now, the Inspector and myself will position ourselves here,

with a clear vantage of anyone approaching

from either direction.

Constables will be positioned here and here

in order to intercept any potential attacker.

And what about me?

What about you?

I want to be there too.

I don't want anyone killing someone

as funny as Charlie Chaplin.

Julia.

We'll position you somewhere with a pram to keep an eye out.

My question is, how can we be sure

that someone won't take a shot at Chaplin from a distance?

Unfortunately, we can't.

However, I believe Obie Stratford

to be our most viable suspect.

Now, Watts, you will be following Obie Stratford

the entire time,

and you will remain in constant

wireless communication with me.

I'm meant to wear this?

But, sir, we know that Mr. Stratford

couldn't have been personally responsible

for each attempt on Chaplin's life.

Exactly.

That is why we are taking extra precautions

to ensure no harm comes to Mr. Chaplin.

A bulletproof vest.

A metal hat to work as a protective helmet.

Rubber-soled shoes to guard against

any attempted electrocution.

And a smaller waist-worn version

of my portable communication device.

Why can't I use this smaller device?

I only had time to make one, Watts.

If I need all this...

We already know someone is trying to kill me.

And you're saying you want to concoct a scenario

to allow him to try and kill me again?

If I may, the killer concocted the scenario.

We're merely trying to use it.

By using me as bait.

Well, not bait. More like...

Well, bait, but with protection.

Thank you, George.

No. Absolutely not.

The risk is too high.

Not just for myself, but for the world.

I detest immodesty, as you all know.

But to deprive the world of Charles Chaplin

is to deprive the world of laughter.

That is not a loss I can accept.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This is ridiculous.

Sir, I can barely move in all this.

This hat is very heavy, not mention far too small.

I could barely button my jacket over the bulletproof vest.

And your communication device means

I've had to wear trousers that are far too large.

So too are these rubber shoes, so large in fact,

I had to put them on the wrong feet

to keep them from flying off.

George, you're only meant to look like

Mr. Chaplin at a distance.

You'll be covering your face once you're at the park bench.

Mr. Chaplin, you stay put.

I can barely walk in this.

I know.

Crabtree, grab this.

You like a bloody tramp.

Good work, George.

What do I do now?

Just stay put.

We'll alert you if anyone approaches.

Watts, where are you?

At the midway, Inspector.

I can see Stratford.

He's at the top of the ladder, taking down a banner.

Good. Tell us if he moves.

Sir.

Do you think that's the killer?

It's not Stratford.

Sir, it's not Mr. Stratford.

But it could be someone working with him.

Sir, is that him?

It's not Stratford.

No, but is it the killer?

We don't know, George.

Should we stop him?

Wait.

Oh, it's just a passerby.

- George, can you hear that?

- Hear what? - That.

It sounds like a -- a ticking.

- Did you say a "ticking" sound? - Yes, sir.

The trash can beside me is ticking.

Sir, do you remember when I showed you

the replica of the alarm clock wired to a bundle of...

TNT.

Someone's set a bloody bomb.

A bomb?!

George, don't move.

Don't move. It could be rigged to the bench.

Good lord.

Julia, get away from the trash can.

Right now.

I'm terribly sorry George.

Don't mention it.

This is how Stratford's trying to kill Chaplin

without being here in person.

So what do we do, Murdoch?

I'll have to try to defuse it.

And what if it goes off before you can?

Then George won't die alone.

George.

Oh.

What is it?

These wires are crossed. It's harmless.

So it isn't going to go off?

Not unless someone were to re-wire it.

The explosive isn't even attached to the alarm clock.

So the killer has botched another attempt.

But in a clever enough way that we couldn't catch him.

Unless it was never meant to go off in the first place.

- It's my --

Flatulence sack.

Ed Ward.

He's used his flatulence sacks to hold this bomb together.

Sir, why was Ed Ward trying to kill Charlie Chaplin?

He wasn't.

Ward didn't get the room number wrong.

But he thought someone else was going to be in that room.

Until he demanded a suite, that was Obie Stratford's room.

After killing McClusky, he saw another chance.

When he sliced that rope,

he wasn't trying to hit Charlie Chaplin,

but the man standing beside him.

But, sir, the stage trap door

that was sabotaged to harm Chaplin.

George, Charlie Chaplin was never supposed to be on stage.

Obie Stratford isn't the killer.

Obie Stratford has been the intended target all along.

Sir! Sir!

- The midway! - What?

We have to get to the midway.

Stay out the way.

The midway!

George, George!

The midway, Julia!

Watts, Watts, Obie Stratford is in danger.

I need you to detain Ed Ward.

- Who? - Ed Ward!

- Edward? Yes!

- Edward who? - This isn't a joke, Watts!

What's funny about "Edward"?

Nothing! Nothing!

The prop man.

I need you to arrest him,

but don't let him know that you're onto him,

otherwise he's likely to pull that ladder

right out from under Stratford.

I'm supposed to arrest him

without him knowing he's being arrested?

Exactly.

And what's his surname?

D'oh!

Sir! Wait! I'm coming.

What are you doing?

Stop shaking this ladder!

Stop it! Stop it!

No! No, no! Stop!

Help! Help!

I have had it!

Not only can you not find a murderer,

this whole town smells like a hog!

You're welcome.

Now, that's something.

You're under arrest!

Julia.

Alright now.

Stop! Aah! Aah!

Julia! Julia!

William! This is hardly the time!

Stay right here and hold the wire.

Bloody hell.

Ed Ward, you are under arrest.

Magnificent!

Yes, I was trying to kill Obie Stratford all along.

Of course I was!

- You wanted his job. - I deserved it!

You purchased your entire act.

So?

He promised it to me!

Kept saying he was going to retire, the show would be mine.

You killed a man and nearly killed several others,

just to advance your career.

My career?

It wasn't just for my career.

It was for the people.

He's not even funny!

Mr. Carmichael.

What are you doing here?

Impressing upon you that my company is worth keeping.

And you're doing that by showing off your wealth?

Well, you already know how attractive I am.

You've never had to work for a thing in life, have you?

No.

Does it matter?

No.

Constable.

That costume you were wearing.

Is there any chance I could purchase it from you?

Mr. Chaplin, those items were designed to be used

in the solving of a murder.

I don't see what other applications they could have.

And they were very uncomfortable.

I felt like a penguin trying to balance an anvil on my head.

Well, I'll have to make my own then.

Charlie, Charlie, I have it!

- I have it. - Ohh.

- What is it? - A film!

I sent Stan to see those film men

that were set up on the midway.

They captured the whole arrest!

What on Earth would you want that for?

I plan to study it.

George's costume was marvelous.

But this man at the center of everything,

stoic in the face of chaos.

He's the funniest man in the world!

- Him? - Oh, yes.

This...

This is going to be big.

Well, well, well.

William Murdoch, the funniest man in the world.

How about that?