All language subtitles for Ripper Street - S05E02 - A Brittle Thread.eng

Men of H Division,
I expect you to show

your new leader all the
loyalty you showed your last.

Who was this man, Croker?

A wharfinger, a nobody.

A nobody ended Bennet Drake?

That is not a nobody.

Father, Mr. Swift, why would
you put him there, the cellar

that was once my home?

Drum?

They set a trap for him,
Shine and Frank Thatcher.

They construct this animal
fight to draw us out,

but we shall see Shine's
claws pulled from him first.

DS Thatcher.

Reid, Reid, Reid, Reid, Reid!

I want him found... now!

Come
onto these yellow

sands and then take hands.

Foot it featly here and
there, and let sweet

sprites the burden bear.

Two Christmases we now have
had you home with us, Princess

Alice, two Christmases
since the river sprites

carried you ashore to us.

Do you remember?

I do, Daddy Horace.

They rescued me.

What was it they
rescued you from,

my princess of the

The fire on the
water, Daddy Horace.

Yes, and who did
they rescue you from?

Who did he say he was?

My father.

But he was lying.

He was always lying.

Because he did not want me
to know who I really was,

to know that I was a princess.

And who was he?

The wicked King.

- When?
- This morning.

About nine to four, perhaps.

We said fresh.

This man is in rigor.

Look, do you want him or not?

Will he serve?

Well, look at him.

He's rigid.

Can he be made to serve?

What do you want it for?

All will be well, now.

Only do as you promised.

No more.

Of course, my love.

Promise me you will be
vigilant, take no risks.

I will be the meekest
man you ever did see.

Last stop before the Hackney
Marshes, ladies and gentlemen.

First day, is it?

Handyman, to work
about the house.

Name.

Potters, Leonard.

In you go.

You may think me ignorant,
Drum, but I ain't no imbecile.

You and your Mathilda,
her hand on your thomas,

taking your loyalty from
you, plotting how best

we here might be embarrassed!

What do you say,
fake?

Is it in fact you, you talk of?

Your knackers still chafed
from that pony's backside?

Thatcher.

What horseplay is this?

We have urgent
business to get about

and you two stop for a cuddle.

Thatcher, explain yourself.

The whole knows it's this shandy
gaff who's blurting our plans.

You best to have
proven your words

than you have with
your fist strength.

Thatcher, explain
to me how you have

allowed this fight to develop.

As I say, Inspector, it's
this wet soaked clown...

Sergeant, I know why you
might hope to batter the man.

I am more concerned that you
have found yourself unable.

See, his reach is
longer than yours.

And he is a slight
more calculating.

In order to fight such a
man, you must now before you

begin that you will win.

I do that by way
of demonstration,

of how you might in the future
overcome your disadvantages.

You did not mind, do
you, Sergeant Drummond?

What's a pair of sore
knackers between comrades?

Or are we not comrades no more?

We are, Mr. Shine.

And I'm glad to hear it.

Thatcher, you are to repeat
such accusations in the future,

you will do so with
articles of proof.

Drummond.

You are to deny
them, you'd best find

men who believe such denials.

Now, I am to Hackney
to tell Mr. Dove

how we are made monkeys of.

When Mr. Dove was a boy, I
made sure he sat to breakfast

at the same time each morning.

This boy must do likewise.

He cannot learn
punctuality otherwise.

And if he does not
learn punctuality,

he cannot learn discipline.

Yes, Miss.

You are Waters?

Yes, mom.

Why do you call me mom?

I'm not married.

"Miss Chudley" will serve.

As you prefer, Miss.

You make the fire for
the master's study?

I do.

Then be sure to knock.

Come.

Coal for the fire, Mr. Dove.

Of course.

Mr. Waters, is it not?
- It is, sir.

Don't let us stop you.

Why not get the
fire lit, Waters?

Yes, Mr. Dove.

Ned stripped Sergeant Thatcher?

Oh, about for that
freshman's haze

sports their
carnations in his garb.

Who can say why
they love Ed Reid.

Although, it must be
said, he makes good copy.

I'd have you make
better, Inspector.

and catch him.

You have the town
rousted, the brothels,

in case the woman Hart
returns to her former work.

Oh yes, Mr. Dove.

All gaming houses for
word of the American.

Mr. Dove, do you
doubt my vigor?

Of course not, Inspector.

Then, perhaps, you will
answer me something.

If I can.

These dog fights, Reid and
Jackson emerge from wherever

they are hid for dog fights.

So I understand.

Or rather, one particular fight
dog and one particular man who

has thieved that fight dog.

Why does Edmund Reid have
such an itch in his britches

they'd raise cover to trap him?

Thank you, Waters.

Hush, Connor.
I am a friend.

Where as I now understand
it, Reid had his own theories

on this cannibal killer.

He disagrees it was this
man, Croker killed those men.

Bennet Drake also.

He would be misguided
in that belief, however.

Seems he clings to it with
some determination, however.

Dear Sergeant Drummond,
I'll bet my liver

it is he who forewarned Reid.

You have no proof
of such betrayal.

Well, then you
leave him in peace.

That stationhouse needs
balance and stability,

not fear and retribution.

As you wish, Mr. Dove.

Good day to you, sir.
- Inspector Shine.

Miss Chudley.

Yes, Mr. Dove.

To your room.

Your guardian and father
must have peace for his work.

Wait, Miss Chudley.

I have business this
morning in a place

that were I still
a small boy, well,

it would fill me with wonder.

See him readied, if you please.

The two of you will join me.
- Yes, Mr. Dove.

Mr Edmund Reid may
have cause to reflect on

whether as H
Division's head man he

ever knew the popularity he now
does as its most urgent quarry.

The people are fickle.

Oh, they are that.

Seems you two are also on
the roadmap to redemption.

Listen to this.

"More inquiring minds
might also ask themselves

the question of what need
and purpose it is now

sees Miss Hart, a woman who
once gave great civic care

to her community,
now united with Mr

Reid in their fugitive status."

This is Miss Costello's pen?

She herself.

What is it irks you, Mr. Judge?

Is it that she
does not even once

make mention of your notoriety?

Not as if she
never once met me.

Perhaps you're easily forgot.

Perhaps she does not know
which name to call you.

Oh, aren't you all so cute.

Maybe i ought to
hand you in myself?

You know, broker an amnesty,
live in peace... alone?

Still, I'm entirely
uncertain how

to respond to your notoriety.

What am I to make of
your bizarre requests?

You haven't.

The falsies.

A healthy selection.

Yes, but to what end?

Pulling the tiger's tail.

This is the first
step, darling.

No, not good enough.

Please, will one of you explain?

Your latest victim?

Natural causes, Miss Morton.

Let me rephrase that.

Have you killed him?

I said we should have
waited til she'd gone home.

Excuse me.

I will not be spoken of as
if I'm some irksome landlady.

If we wait any
longer, this stiff's

gonna be beyond purpose.

And what purpose that?

They wish to make a
scandal, Miss Morton,

show Augustus Dove the
limits of his control.

And for that, you
require dental...

We require teeth.

Oh!

Good god.

Do you intend to
make another victim?

We need to break
the mortis first.

Hey, move around one.

Could be a child's parlor game.

All right, you have them?

I believe the
records would have

their uses when I took them.

I hadn't anticipated
imitation, however.

Gonna have to screw down
hard, prise the flesh away.

How charming.

Yes, men's work, I believe.

Shall we?
- Let us.

I will stop just
a moment or two.

Then we shall be on our way.

Mr. Dove, appointments
are there to be made,

but you, it seems, feel
yourself above the simple act

of a knock upon a door.

Fugitives from justice
conduct themselves

with more refinement, do they?

Mr. Dove, surely
you understand.

I hear that the former
police detective Edmund

Reid is cheered to
the skies while he

runs through our streets.

Well, that is an event worthy
of report, in my opinion.

And yet, Miss Costello,
about three editions past, you

penned the report, true facts of
how this man, whose reputation

you now burnish, most likely
placed a defenseless old mined

in an underground
dungeon and left

him there to starve and rot.

And then, here today,
you make as if he

might in fact be a folk hero.

Our readers are difficult, sir.

And it is they who pay my wages.

No!

This neighborhood, the people
require simple paradigms...

good, bad, justice, villainy.

These ideas become
confused in their heads

while the social
fabric of these streets

is sewn with a brittle thread.

That thread breaks,
the ability

falls away with
it, and what will

be left but naked savagery?

Edmund Reid did evil.

Long Susan Hart did evil.

Captain Homer Jackson likewise.

If you wish to remain
friends with the police,

that is the story
you want to tell.

Do you threaten me, Mr. Dove?

Well, you interpret
it how you wish, Miss

Costello, but you see it done.

See how they love
to play, Connor?

I fear only that the boy
will become spoiled, sir.

There's nothing spoiling
in joy, Miss Chudley.

All young boys need a dog.

Do you know, Connor,
when I was only

a little older than you are now,
I lost my mother and was alone.

And I was found and cared
for by a man who showed me

that a way may be made
from the lonely boy I was

to a new life, a better life.

Connor, I intend to
be that man for you.

You have my oath on it.

Until you yourself
have become a man,

it will be My greatest
endeavor to see you

do not lack for a single thing.

I will be a father to you.

You choose your
favorite, Connor,

and we shall bring it home.

I thought to settle your
invoice in cash, Mr. Sparks.

We are grateful, Mr. Dove.

As am I, for your efforts.

The beasts were not
too hard to find?

Sir, this is Jamrach's.

There is not a creature alive
that we cannot locate for you.

And the other
conditions we agreed?

Full anonymity,
sir, as promised.

Thatcher.

Inspector, my apologies, sir.

The snitch report,
sir, and I thought

his intelligence worth a coin.

That being?

Captain Jackson, he
and Miss Hart, I mean,

it's not as if she was the
sole focus of his ardor

down the years.

We roust each and every
twat that man has inspected,

and the the parents
will be old and gray.

Yes, sir.

I know, sir, but there was
one other that, word had it,

he stayed loyal to.

Only for a little
while, but the talk

was that she kept him in order.

The pair of them
were tight, till Miss

Susan got locked down, and
then he made his choice.

You have paid a snitch
for old gossip, Thatcher.

No, sir.

I paid him because he
brought word that this other

is once more in Whitechapel.

Who is this lady?

Well to do, fine silk,
fine hair, fine carriage.

Slum tourist?

Yeah, of a kind.

What kind?

The dramatic, sir, play houses.

Your games are ended, then?

You expecting visitors, Mimi?

Oi, police!

You will open these doors.

In there.

Go on.
Open up, I say.

Police!

Open this door!

Quick, up into
the lighting rigs.

- Miss Morton?
- Yes.

I'm for a show, lady.

One man here, other stage door.

Watch your step.

No lights?

There, I'll...

Look at that, the theater.

So it's the case that
you and Captain Jackson

once stepped out?

Stepped out?

That's a delicate phrase for
a man in a velvet collar.

Well, we know you
theatricals, that you like

to use words to describe
the thing that ain't

actually the thing itself.
- Ah-ha.

You mean a simile?

Although stepped out is
perhaps more of a metaphor?

Perhaps you'd best
describe the thing itself.

Well, let me ask you this.

Were you and the man
most widely known

as Homer Jackson was
joined by cock and cunny?

Ah, so much clearer.

Language is so much better for
an accurate expression, I find.

Well, then, Miss, were you?

Yes.

My god, that is a loathsome hat.

When did your contact cease?

When he chose to join that cock
to his wife's cunny instead.

You got friends
visiting, Miss Morton?

Do you see us ready
to admit audiences yet?

No?

That is because there is
a renovation taking place,

and because I have yet to
establish for myself how best

a collapsing wall
may be buttressed

and my plastering is not
what I'd wish it to be.

I must employ workmen.

And workmen, not
unlike policemen,

are fond of tea and biscuits.

It's not the only items we
police have a liking for.

Wait, wait, wait.

You know, Miss Morton, you grow
ever more fetching to my eye.

Now, it is in your interest
to be candid with me, lady.

The risk of a fire in a place
so full of the flammable.

My theater burns,
that fire will not

stop till it meets the river.

No, you should tell me
then, have you seen him?

Have you hid him?

I'll tell you something
about Captain Homer Jackson.

I'm sure a great
many believe he cuts

quite the dash with
his cool eye for all

the world in its foolishness
considers a value.

And I'll admit, such cynicism
quite had me taken for a while.

But that nonchalance
is just a pose

behind which he hides a tearful,
fearful, treacherous heart.

Further to so which, for a man
to spend so much of his life

in service of his
manhood, when that manhood

is, well, more of a boyhood.

You get my meaning, Mr. Shine.

Thatcher.

With me, Thatcher.
- Run along.

Miss Morton, any
damage incurred

while you keep us here, I
will foot the bill myself.

And what will
you do, Miss Hart?

Set armed men to
rob another train?

Now, let us hope it
doesn't come to that, huh?

You OK, Mimi?

I will not have you
soft-soap me either.

Perhaps after all we have
overstayed our welcome.

Jedediah Shine is not
a man I would have

set any further sights on you.

Come.

It's becoming dark.

We may go find ourselves
alternative concealment.

And then when you're caught
and your severed heads

are displayed on the
iron railings that

line the new station
house on Leman Street,

I shall have
eternal guilt to add

to the catalog of vexations
I suffer as a result of you

coming back into my life.

No, this profanity is part of
some strategy that, at its end,

sees you restored,
these two gone away,

and that man Dove punished
for all he has done.

It is no easy
task, Miss Morton,

but yes, that is the goal.

Best you and your merry band
get about it, then, Mr. Reid.

Where you go, you
trust these people?

They are not one time lovers
of mine, but that aside, yes,

I do.

What am I today, the
world's chopping block?

I wanna know you're
safe, is all.

Just get about
your work, husband,

and I shall get about mine.

Leonard, Myrtle.

Miss Susan, quick.
Before you're seen.

Look at you, Myrtle.

You must be near term.

I am, Miss Susan.

And you, is all safe with you?

Oh, you must not
fear, neither of you.

You do quite enough
for me as it is.

But there's never enough
we could do for you, Miss,

not never.

Tell me, Leonard.

How fares my boy?

Oh, he's a stout, fine young
man, as only could be expected.

He is well then?

He is well cared
for, certainly.

But not happy?

How could a boy be
happy without his ma?

He is kept on a short line.

The woman Chudley.

The governess.

Is fierce and
shrewish a harridan

has ever scolded a boy.

But Mr. Dove, he has some
feeling for the boy, I believe.

Took him to Jamrach's today
and bought him a puppy.

It's certain to
ease his loneliness.

Leonard, do you think... do you
see a way when the time comes

that he might be taken away?

There are Westminster police
on guard day and night.

But the woman Chudley
must eat and sleep.

And the gardens, Mr.
Dove's gardens, they're

bordered at the back
only by the Marshes.

And that puppy
must be exercised.

I see, Leonard.

Albeit slight, there
are opportunities there.

There are.

How do you find Mr. Dove?

Too upright by
half, yes, he was.

And he's distracted
by something which

makes him fearful anxious.

Leonard, do you think it's
possible, as always of course

being most careful, that
you may discover what it

is that makes him so anxious?

Please, Miss Susan, he
already risks so much.

What if he is found out?

Leonard?

No, now come, Myrtle.

We must remind ourselves of all
this good lady has done for us.

I was only a daily
fetchit paid a penny

to clear the gutter
at Street

when the leaves got in.

And she encouraged
my love for you.

Saw that you need
earning that way no more,

and to this the deposit
for our home here.

Hush, Leonard.
You need not go on.

But he's my Leonard, and I
will be lost without him.

He means to name the child
after you, if it is a girl.

And even if it is not.

Leonard, a boy named Susan?

Strong a name as
ever there was.

Here, the house, entrances,
bedchambers of the occupants.

Do you think you might be
able to draw it for me?

I'm sure I may.

Here, at the back stairwell,
this, Mr. Dove's rooms.

And this, where
your Connor sleeps.

That's the way, brother.

Almost home.
- All right.

Quick, over here.

Well, do we say a prayer?

Pray that one deception
is believed over the other.

Now, I gotta watch
for Mathilda's candle.

I'm sorry, Drum.

It's not you that
lumped me, Thilda.

I might as well have, however.

My father would be
grateful for such loyalty.

They know it was me told
you, and you that told him.

And neither tied Frank
Thatcher's dockers

to that pony.

I am watched.

By Mr. Shine?

He wishes to dice me
for his cooking pot.

I shall not ask it
of you again, Drum.

Come, please, do not sleep
on the floor tonight.

Mathilda, do you not fear
for what folk will say?

Do you not want to be proper?

Proper?

I'm not sure I know
what that means.

I certainly do not care for
others' definition of it.

All that is proper and
true is that this is good.

All else can go hang.

Come, Samuel.
- No.

No, no, Thilda.

It's not that I
lack the desire.

It does not feel right.

In your heart?

No.

Then, we must
stay true to that.

Move, move, move.

Keep them back.

What's that you, say?

A new body with bite
marks had been found, Mr. Dove.

Another?

Where from?
By whom?

The wire says
only that they

need your urgent attendance
at Leman Street, sir.

Telephone Leman Street.

They are to expect
me within the hour.

And wire Jamrach's for the
latest shipping time... now!

Yes, Mr. Dove.

Miss Chudley.
Good morning.

Waters, the scuttle.

Of course, Miss Chudley.

Where is it he was found?

Yard off the back of
Halfmoon Passage, sir.

That is but a spit
from this address here.

For a murdering man, the acts
of this town lack all respect.

This man, Croker, your case
was made sound, Mr. Dove.

For there is fearful
here.

You must
send for a surgeon.

To what end, sir?

For full autopsy,
for certainty!

Certainty?

Well, that is a luxury
in my experience, sir.

Nonetheless,
Sergeant Drummond, you

will please send to the yard.

Yes, Mr. Dove.

Sirs, the press come.

Mr. Dove, might I have
some confirmation concerning

the dead man's body
recovered this morning

from Halfmoon Passage?

Has this force once more
assumed their tormentor

dead when he is not?

There are over 15
witnesses all describing

the work done to the body.

What use are we
to you, then, girl?

Mr. Dove, you are the
ranking officer here.

May I have it from you?

Assistant Commissioner.

Sergeant Drummond, will
you brew a pot of tea

and show Miss Costello to
the private office above.

That is, if Mr. Shine will
allow for the loan of it.

Be my guest.

I am to be granted
private interview, am I?

Perhaps you'll begin by
telling me on what evidence

you named the man Croker.

And if, as it now seems
likely, it was not

he performed these
savage acts, you

will now be reopening the
investigation into the murder

of Inspector Bennet Drake.

I shall not be taking
questions on this matter

until autopsy is made.

Then why bring me here?

Why not simply make your
denial and cast me out?

You believe yourself a
good journalist, I am sure.

Good, I mean, in that you
understand the moral imperative

of the truth.

I do.

Perhaps you believe
I have in the past

been eager to hide
such truth from you.

Well, I'm tearing it
up from the roots now.

That is a copy, yours to take.

But what you will find is
that the fate to have befallen

Mr. Theodore Swift, buried
alive by Edmund Reid,

was far from an
isolated occurrence.

Within the testimony of a
man who once served him,

proof of this stationhouse's
past iniquity...

corroborated
extrajudicial murder.

You wish to fill your next
front page with speculation,

you be my guest.

But this, this is fact.

And were you not to print fact,
Miss Costello, well, I need

to ask myself why that was.

Care to share, Mr. Dove?

All in good time, Mr. Shine.

Despite
our sternest efforts,

neither myself, Inspector Drake,
nor Captain Jackson could break

down the iron grill,
which Inspector

Reid had locked behind him.

He would not open it and set
about the suspect, Mr. Buckley.

Mr. Reid took Mr. Buckley's
head between his hands and...

Hold the evening run!

What?

Well, you've made
the front page.

Just not all of it.

Jesus Reid.

Horace Buckley, they
have everything.

Oh, Mathilda.

No, no, no.

Mathilda.

He
Would not open it and set

about the suspect, Mr. Buckley.

Mr. Reid took Mr. Buckley's
head between his hands and well,

I cannot think of a
better word for it, popped

it against the wooden pillar.

I believe Mr. Buckley died
after the second strike.

Mr. Thatcher, what has befallen
this neighborhood that it is

aburst with women who wish
to hide their information

from the police?

Don't know what it is, sir.

Perhaps you'd best tell
me, then, Miss Costello.

I'm accustomed to
those of your sex

being a sight more
plain than this.

Our Assistant Commissioner Dove
has given you intelligence that

now sees fugitive Reid
damned in the pages

where he was so
recently celebrated.

And what if it were?

Do you see?

There you go again.

Now, I tire of it, girly.

Inspector, sir.

Why do you object
to my questioning?

Ah.

See, miss, there is a
battle currently played out.

Its field of conflict, the
pages of your dirty rag!

Now, its antagonists are my
Mr. Dove and Mr. Edmund Reid.

Please, I do not
know what you mean.

Do you know?

It's that corpse.

It's that corpse,
which all assume

is your cannibal
killer back about, eh?

He is not.

Now, Mr. Dove, he
is a clever cat,

but he ain't seen near
enough dead bodies.

Them bite marks, hm?

See there around the edges?

No lividity, see.

a good long day
or so after death came down.

in other words, a hoax, the
skilled hand of Ed Reid's

Yankee.

Now, what I drive at is this.

Why?
Hm?

Why?

What is the message
Reid sends the Assistant

Commissioner of police?
What is it?

What is it?

What is it?

Inspector Shine, please!

You moan like a bitch, I
shall slap you like one.

You don't have the
stomach for my work,

get out and shut
the door behind you.

Get out.

Please, Mr. Thatcher.

Get out now!

Shut the door behind you.

Now we are alone.

You speak, well, you shall know
the full immensity of Jedediah

Shine's displeasure.
- It is his brother.

Whose?

Mr. Dove's.

You be clear now.

You be clear.

What did Mr. Dove's brother do?

Reid believed him to have
been the killer, hidden away

for his mania,
escaping to murder,

and Mr. Dove by necessity
moving mountains to see blame

shifted, and that man protected.

Where is this man now?

I do not know.

Mr. Dove, Mr. Dove, his...
his displeasure at the sight

of that corpse, that
might tell you something, Miss.

See, he does not know
neither, where this killer

brother of his is now hid.

Fears that Reid
will trap him first.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Yeah.

An exemplary hacker
such as yourself

would not entertain such
stories without also gathering

your own evidence, would you?

No.

Then you shall hand that
evidence to me now, hey?

Oh, there, there.

Come unto these
yellow sands and take hand.

Your Leonard took some risk
of leaving this for you.

Jamrach's?

It's the menagerie.

Leonard told me Dove
had bought him a puppy.

These ain't puppies.

"Canis lupus lupus, middle
Russian forest wolf."

I've heard tales of such
wolves in such forests.

August Dove,
philanthropic benefactor.

He does not draw
breath without strategy.

Such rare beasts coming
in from the Thames for tax

and clearance, word
of there arrivals will

be seething on that dockside.

Dockside well known to
the creature Nathaniel Dove

and where he's
surely hid somewhere.

It is not such a leap of
faith to imagine him being

drawn to the same
creatures who have

so indelibly marked his soul.

Same creatures as
took their mother

from 'em, brought to
London from one brother

to draw the other one out.

They are

But if Dove hopes to use these
creatures to trap his brother,

we may use them also and
set a trap for them both.

Mathilda.
Mathilda, please.

Don't be frightened.

Will you take this to Drummond.

Within are instructions.

If he follows the
instructions and brings men,

they will capture this monster,
the true beast of Whitechapel.

Much then will be revealed
and I hope, I hope,

that we may return to
our lives together.

And that will be a
good thing, would it?

Yes.

Mathilda, it would.

The world will be safer.

Your Uncle Bennet, others too,
they will have their justice.

And what of you, father?

All of which you stand accused?

There is much
explaining I would do.

I do not say that
I am blameless.

But there is mitigation.

I hope so.

Mr. Buckley was not a big
man, not nearly as big as you,

father.

Mathilda.

Mathilda, please, we will talk
of that man in due course.

But first, please hand
this note to Drummond.

You broke his head open
up on a wood pillar.

You smashed his brains from him.

There is a testimony
from Bobby Grace.

No shard of glass,
no necessary defense

of yourself... only murder.

A defenseless man killed
in cold blood by your hand.

I was told that you
were dead, dead for all

that he had done to you,
terrible dread things

done to you in his captivity.

But he did not...

Yes, but I was told this.

I was assured this.

I cannot be blame... he
took you from me, Mathilda.

Do you not see?

No.

He kept me safe... from you!

Mathilda, Mathilda,
I will explain.

All will be explained...
the Captain,

Susan Hart, she who lied to me.

But first, the
note, tell Drummond.

All will be right again.
Please.

Must I take you by the throat
again, pin you to the wall,

accuse you of all
the evil ever born?

Mr. Reid, I will talk
to her, my word on it.

Should we live, be free, I will
not leave the city until I have

made her understand the truth.

No, not you.

Not by my side.

You are no ally of mine.

Get to Leonard.

He's done all he
might for us now.

Get him out of there.
We'll meet you after.

Shh.

Ain't you just beauties, hey?

How far have you traveled, eh?

How far have you
come here to me now?

Here, look, look, look, look.
It's all right.

Augustus.

I'm glad to have
found you, brother.

- Have you...
- It doesn't matter.

But I was certain the
news of such rare beasts

landing on this shoreline
would draw you out.

Nathaniel, there is
a savaged man found.

It is not by your action.

- Augustus, I have not...
- But the hunger?

Well, I feel it.

Yes.

But I feel also that
it may be withstood.

Then I am glad.

They are magnificent.

Augustus, they are perfect.

They will offer you their
affection and yet they fear me.

Perhaps they see
you for what you are.

Brother.

Hello, Mr. Reid.

Captain, you seem very
sure of yourself, sir.

Of certain things,
Mr. Reid, yes, I am.

And so how will you explain
your kinship with this man

when the men of H
Division arrive?

Augustus?

The men of H Division
cannot arrive if they

are not instructed to do so.

And yet they are so instructed.

By these instructions?

Those you handed
to your daughter?

Drummond.

Not he alone.

But Sue, she and he.

Your Mathilda, her world
now so terribly shaken

by the sudden understanding of
her father's true character,

well, she understands
where her future

lies, with Samuel
Drummond among the police,

with the true police.

I'm gonna shoot
the pair of them.

No, wait, wait, wait.

- Mr. Reid is wise, Captain.
- Augustus.

Do not think me ignorant of
how the intelligence of these

wolves importation came to you.

Your wife's friend, Mr. Waters.

Oh Christ.

He will leave a pregnant
widow, I believe.

Augustus, please, no!

No!

I kill him, there is
no way back for you,

no case ever to be made.

But your boy will be well.

I give you my word.

He will grow strong, live in
bright light and clean air.

And if I put a bullet
in your head, Mr. Dove?

I've left instruction with Miss
Chudley should I not return.

She cares for children, but
she has no care for them,

if you understand my meaning.

Now what?

He would have sent word.

It's gone.

But it is Leonard,
dear, sweet Leonard.

And what harm can
come to such a man?

Get your murderous
hands off me.

you are death.

That woman, get out!

All that you have heard,
Thilda, all that you must feel.

But you know this.

The love that I feel for
you, it only swells further.

This is Mr. Reid's bed.

No, Samuel.

It is ours now.

Evening to you, sirs.

Madame.

Thatcher, I always knew you
were the one with the brains.

Cadogan's dental supplies, ain't
none of you in need of falsies,

last time I saw you.

And there's a chewed up cadaver
in your dead room, Captain,

which is now pronounced a hoax.

Fine work, Thatcher.

I'm sure your new master
will see you rewarded.

Where is Shine?

Drowning in his own poison
and conceit for all I care.

And do you have three
sets of irons with you?

I do not.

Mr. Thatcher, what may
we do for you, then?

He's as wicked a
man as any I've met.

Shine?

Despite your low
opinion of me, Mr. Reid,

I will see some good
done in this uniform.

Now, I don't know if all that's
now said of you three is true

or not, but I will
not serve him.

Do you mean to
help us, then, sir?

There is fishing
and these is peace.

You wil live quiet, easy,
until all that may harm us

will be put to rest.

Thank you, Augustus.