All language subtitles for Miss.Scarlet.and.the.Duke.S05E03

♪ ♪

Barnabus has got his new job.

You're always up to
something different.

But me, every day's the same.

♪ ♪

I thought you'd hired me
to work on an actual case.

This is the job
I'll hire you to do.

Do it or don't do it.

I'm trying my best
to do as he asks,

forge a working relationship.

On behalf of Scotland Yard,
I would like to welcome you all

to our new clerical office.

I look forward
to working with you.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(thunder claps)

(whimpering)

(click)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(bell ringing)

(footsteps approaching)

I'll do that.

Last time you did the laundry,
you flooded the kitchen.

I'll do it after work.

You're going to be late.
I know, I know.

You look nice.
Thank you!

How are things
at Scotland Yard?
Wonderful.

Inspector Blake is such
a gentleman and so considerate.

Quite the nicest person
I've worked for.

Thank you for that.

You don't count.
Again, thank you.

Oh, I'll do them.

And yes,
I'll do them properly.

Now, get your things
and go.

But...
Coat, hat, bag-- now.

Good morning, my dear.

Oh, Barnabus, I'm so sorry,
I don't have time for breakfast.

I need to be in early today--
so much to do.

This is the third time this week
we will miss breakfast together.

And it is the cornerstone
of our day.

There's tea in the pot,
bread and jam on the table.

Lizzie will keep you company.

Mm!

♪ ♪

Miss Scarlet.

Mr. Potts.

(sighs)

I've never seen Ivy this happy,
Mr. Potts.

So we will have to make
adjustments.

I am aware of that.

(sighs)

I do not wish to be seen
as a stick-in-the-mud,

but I am a man of routine.

Because without routine,
Miss Scarlet,

there is anarchy.

Well, I have a very
busy day ahead of me.

Clarence is visiting
his mother for a few days,

and I'll be alone
in the office.

So perhaps
I can trouble you

for one more break
in your routine?

To assist me with the dishes.

Miss Scarlet,
I am yet to take my morning tea,

let alone peruse
the latest headlines.

Mr. Potts,
if we work together,

then Ivy will be free
this evening to give you time

and attention, rather than
doing the washing up.

♪ ♪

Very well.

But I have a specific method

when it comes
to the cleaning of dishes,

which I must insist
we adhere to.

Right.
(exhales):
Right, indeed.

Uh, I do confess,

it's been difficult
to tear myself away

from this morning's news.

The front-page stories
are grimly compelling.

Are you aware
of the Thames Reaper?

I am, indeed.

I've been following
the story with great interest.

Four murders in three
short months, and then nothing.
Hm.

Until now.

He has written a letter
to "The Morning Herald"

advising he plans
to kill again.

Goodness.

It sent a chill
down my spine when I read

that the Thames Reaper
is back.

We will not be safe in
our beds until he is caught.

It pains me to say this.

There are times
when I truly believe

there is something rotten at
the heart of this great nation.

Intriguing.
I...

You don't mind if I take this,
do you, Mr. Potts?
What?

Uh, no, no, Miss Scarlet!
Miss Scarlet!
(footsteps retreating)

Anarchy!
(water splashes)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

MAN:
Thames Reaper returns!
Get your "Morning Herald"!

Read all about it!

(people talking in background,
phones ringing)

(typewriters clacking)

(people talking in background,
phones ringing)

(knocks softly)
BARNES: I think you
need to refer back

to what you've said already,
indeed.

Mr. Barnes.

(quickly):
What?

My name's Eliza Scarlet.

I, I wondered if I might
have a moment of your time.

Uh...

1,200 words by 4:00.

1,200?
Yes.

Sir.
That'll do, Bailey, thank you.

Thank you.

If you're looking
for work,

I already have a secretary.

I'm a private detective,
Mr. Barnes,

and I would very much
like to help your newspaper

solve the mystery
of the Thames Reaper.

You have some information?

I have a number of theories
and insights.

As well as leads that...
Madam,

I am the editor of
a national newspaper.

I have no shortage
of people to chase up leads.

They are called journalists.

And this building
is full of them.

It's been almost a year
since the first murder,

and no one-- not the police,

not your newspaper,
nor any of your competitors--

has the slightest idea
who this Thames Reaper is.

This case needs fresh insight,

and I will work
around the clock,

seven days a week,
to bring you answers.

And you would want to be
paid for that, I presume.

Well, that is customary when
someone provides a service, yes.

Hm.

Mm...

You bring me something new,

something I don't
already know,

and then perhaps
I will hire you.

♪ ♪

(people talking in background,
phones ringing)

Mr. Bailey, my name's...

I, I know exactly
who you are.

There are not many
lady detectives in London.

(chuckles)
Pleasure to meet you,
Miss Scarlet.

I hear it was you

who broke the story
of the Thames Reaper.

Guilty as charged.

In fact,

these are my notes.

1,200 words by 4:00.
(chuckles)
Exactly.

So, um, what brings you here?

Well, I also have an interest
in the Reaper case.

And now that he's returned,

I asked that your editor hire me
to do my own investigation.

Well, best of luck.

The man has short arms
and very long pockets

when it comes to
paying even his own staff.

Well, we've agreed
that if I do find

any new information,
he will indeed pay me a fee.

And it occurred to me that, um,

well, perhaps it might benefit
us both if we share any insight

that we might have on the case.

The Reaper story
has transformed

the fortunes of "The
Morning Herald."

We were on the verge
of closing due to poor sales.

Dreadful thing to say,

but these murders have
kept us all in a job.

How did the story
come to your attention?

In November of last year,

a body was found on the banks
of the Thames

near London Bridge.

A young man in his early 20s.

It appeared he had drowned.

There was little other
information, not even his name.

Normally, I would have
ignored it,

but it was a slow news
day, so,

I wrote a couple
of hundred words

that ended up hidden away
on page six.

No other newspaper reported it,
and I gave it no more thought.

Then, the next day,
a letter arrived.

♪ ♪

(envelope tears)

It was typed on plain paper
and written all in lower case.

It simply read,

"Edward sleeps
by London Bridge."

I had no idea what it meant,
but the mention

of London Bridge made me think
of the drowning the day before.

I spoke to a police contact
and managed to get

the name of the dead man.

As the letter said,
it was indeed Edward.

Edward Turnbull.

Had his name been released
to the public?

No.

And the letter was posted

the day before my story
was published.

Compelling evidence
that whoever wrote the letter

murdered the victim.

What happened then?

Our source?
Our source...

BAILEY:
I wrote a bigger story,

mentioning
the mysterious letter.

It was a full-page article,
this time on page two.

(snapping):
Our source...

BAILEY:
Word began to spread,
sales went up.

Press, now, now, now!

BAILEY:
Mr. Barnes, our editor,

requested follow-up articles,
poring over every detail.

By the end of the week,

it was front-page news.

Three weeks later,
another body was found.

In a different part
of the river.

And another letter arrived.

Again, the location and name
correct.

Again, it was lower case,

anonymous,

and formatted
in the same precise fashion.

It became our front-page story
for days, if not weeks, on end.

Circulation began to rise.

I've never seen Mr. Barnes
so happy.

And keep it up.

I shall do.
Won't you?

Thank you.
Good lad.

And the next victim
was a month later,

found up the river
near Richmond.

It was around this time
someone in our office,

I can't remember who,
began to use the moniker

"the Thames Reaper."

I didn't like the name,

but Mr. Barnes insisted
we used it.

There is something of
a circus ringmaster about him.

And the fourth victim
followed the same pattern?

Exactly the same,
but that was six months ago.

And I believed that to
be an end to the killings.

Until yesterday,
when he wrote again,

this time simply saying,
"I have returned."

(people talking in background)

WOMAN (in distance):
Get your hands off me!

Don't you dare touch me!

Morning, Bob.

Good morning, Ivy--
for filing.
Ah.

OFFICER:
Get a move on!

(woman exclaims)
OFFICER: You, come on!

Come on!

(people talking and shouting
in background)

IVY:
Morning.
OFFICER: Morning, Ivy.

(breathes deeply)

Morning.

BLAKE:
Come.

Morning, Inspector.

Miss Woods--
how are you today?

Very well, thank you.

If you carry on
like this,

you'll be stronger
than any man here.

(laughs)

I've managed to find those
records from Clerkenwell.

That's the original.

These are the copies.

Most efficient-- thank you.

And how is Miss Scarlet
coping without you?

Well, she's been
very accommodating.

So, there'll be a
hot dinner waiting for you

when you return home
this evening.

I wouldn't go that far.

(both chuckle)

Was there anything else
you needed?

Uh, yes,

but I think you have quite
enough to deal with already.

Nonsense-- what is it you need?

The new desk sergeant--
what's his name?

Bernard.

He has written up
a duty log for last night,

but his handwriting
is illegible.

Leave it with me--
I'll type it up

and you'll have it in an hour.

Which is exactly
what I hoped you would say.

Thank you.
(chuckles)

Oh, and these need
to be copied and filed.
Ooh!

They're urgent, so...
You would rather they didn't

go in the general
filing tray.

You read my mind.

I'll see to it myself.

Miss Woods?

You're a credit
to this department.

♪ ♪

Whoo! Thank you.

(horses passing)

What are the postmarks
on the letters?

From all over the city, each
one from a different borough.

And where are the letters
now?
With the police.

Which is rather vexing,

since each body was found
in the river

at a different location.

The case spans
several jurisdictions.

The City of London Police,
the Surrey Police,

the Bow Street Division.

You really think
you can find something new?

(inhales)

I can certainly try.

And you've no idea
why he's resurfaced.

Not a clue.

Mr. Bailey?
(snaps fingers):
Yes.

Telegram for you, sir.

Thank you.

(door closes)
I'm being called back
to the office.

Another letter's arrived.

♪ ♪

(gulls squawking)

BLAKE:
Thank you, Mr. Stevens.

I would estimate he's been
in the water for a day.

Perhaps a little longer.

There's minimal discoloration
of the soft tissue

with only slight bloating.

There's an open wound
to the back of the head,

possible blunt trauma injury.

Were you here
when he was pulled out?

Yes, sir.

Was he lifted or dragged?

Sir?

Did his feet touch the ground?

No, sir.

ELIZA:
Inspector Blake?

Inspector Blake.

Miss Scarlet.

Your business is to see me
or him?

Well, both.

May I introduce Mr. Bailey
from "The Morning Herald"?

He's the journalist covering
the Thames Reaper story.

You believe
this is connected?

I do, yes.

Another letter arrived at
our office not one hour ago.

"Caleb sleeps
by Limehouse docks."

You're working
with his newspaper?

Oh, in a manner
of speaking.

I'll need you
to give a statement.

Gladly, yes.

I was talking
to Mr. Bailey.

I do not need a statement
from you, Miss Scarlet.

Unless there's something
you can tell me that he cannot.

Well, I've just
begun my investigation,

so not at present, no.

Then I bid you good day.

Escort Miss Scarlet
back to her carriage.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(knocks)

Ah, Mr. Potts.

I'm in urgent need of background
information for a case.

Hm.

May I remind you of our
agreement regarding your access

to these premises?

You need to state in writing
the nature of your business,

the name of your client,
and the duration of your stay.

With one day's notice.

Is this about the washing up?

No.

Well, not just that...

I give you my word,

you will not have to clean
another dish for the next week.

Month.

And I want a cooked breakfast
or dinner

on the days when Ivy
is otherwise engaged.

Very well-- I accept.

Hm.

Uh, I take it you can cook.

I'm as good as they come.

Hm.

We must make haste.

I have a staffing shortage
at Aldgate Mortuary

which requires my attention.

Understood.

You might be interested
to know, Mr. Potts,

that it's the Thames Reaper
that I'm investigating.

He's killed again?

Indeed.

Well, we've received
no cadavers today,

so the body's most likely still
at the scene or in transit.

It's just background
information that I require

on his previous victims.

I assume that even
though the bodies

were found in different parts
of the river,

that the records
will be kept here?

Oh, that is correct, yes.

We are the central office
for all such documents.

Indeed, we have
a designated section

for all the bodies
pulled from the Thames.

Yeah, drunks,
careless boatmen,

suicides.

We receive four or five bodies
from the river each month.

More in February.

Why February?

It's Valentine's Day.

Many young men propose
to their sweethearts

and are rejected.

I may throw myself in
if Ivy doesn't marry me soon.

This job of Ivy's is new
and exciting at the moment,

but things will settle down.

She used to think that I
was new and exciting once.

♪ ♪

ELIZA:
Details of the coroner's
reports on the other victims.

You got access to the
coroner's reports after one day?

I wrote to them for months
and didn't get a thing!

I have a friend
at the city mortuary.

Well, he's not exactly
a friend.

It's a long story.

As you know, um,
the cause of death

for the previous four victims
was drowning.

There was no obvious
defense wounds, which, well,

would suggest that their
killer was someone

with physical strength,

capable of holding their
victims underwater.

My theory has always been

that he's some kind
of manual worker.

A docker, perhaps.

That was my thinking, too.

The victims were all men
in their 20s and 30s,

perfectly capable
of fighting back.

And certainly the, um,

third victim,

Aleksander Sochnev.

The Russian, yes-- he was well
built and over six feet tall.

I noticed there were
very few details on his file.

Just the basics--
not even a next of kin.

Any idea where I can
get more information on him?

Well, as I said,
each body was found

in the river at
a different location.

Our main frustration
with this case

is that the information
is spread out

across a variety of different
police jurisdictions.

There is someone I could perhaps
ask for help.

♪ ♪

Absolutely not.

It's just a small favor.

(softly):
A small favor
that could cost me my job.

I'm not getting you confidential
police files, Lizzie.

If you want them so badly,
ask Inspector Blake.

He's a very nice man.

So you keep saying.
You won't change my mind,
Lizzie.

You shouldn't ask such things
of me.

You're right.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I shouldn't have asked.

Apology accepted-- just.

ELIZA:
Fine, I'll ask
Inspector Blake.

What time will you finish?

Oh, not for another
couple of hours.

Some things to finish up.

First in, last out?

Don't overdo it--
you need your rest, too.

I'll be fine--
now go on, off you pop.

I'm not five!

You are to me.

♪ ♪

(sighs)

(sighs)

How many times, Miss Scarlet?

The door was open.

And I knocked.

I'm here to propose a deal.

One that I believe
is mutually beneficial.

The Thames Reaper killings began
before you took up

your post at Scotland Yard.

The case notes and evidence
are spread across London

in different police divisions,
and it would take you days,

if not longer,
to gather the information.

What you need
is a concise summary

of all the key leads
and clues to date.

Names, dates, maps,
coroner reports,

together with condensed notes
and working theories

from the last year
to the present day.

I've been taking
a keen interest in the case.

So I can see.

The latest killing falls
under your jurisdiction,

but the others don't.

But, given that
Scotland Yard is now

investigating the case,
I'm sure that a request

could be sent to gather
all the evidence here.

I'm surprised
you didn't ask Ivy.

I'd never put her
in that position.

So, what do you say?

Hire me and I'll help you
catch him?

How much are you being
paid by "The Morning Herald"?

And don't lie--
remember, I can tell.

No, you can't.

And my fee's yet
to be negotiated.

But given that the editor
would sell his own grandmother

for a story, I can't imagine
getting money from him

will be much of a problem.
If you solve this,
he'll pay you more than I can.

It's not just
about the money.

Nor is it about the glory
of catching him.

Well, maybe just a little.

It's, um...

It's an itch
that I just have to scratch.

It's a puzzle to solve,

and that puzzle's more likely
to be solved working with you.

Working for me.

Semantics.

So, was that an offer?

It was-- on one condition.

♪ ♪

I cannot work for both
your newspaper and the police.

I'm sure you understand

that it's a conflict
of interest.

I do, absolutely.

You've been very
accommodating, thank you.

You've quite restored
my faith in your profession.

I haven't had the best
experience with journalists.

Neither have I.

In truth, I'm not sure
how much longer

I'll continue
in my present career.

I come from
a family of doctors.

My father
and three older brothers.

Are you something of
a black sheep, Mr. Bailey?

Apparently so.

Do you have any siblings?

No, there was just me.

My, my parents
have both passed away.

I'm sure they would be proud
if they could see you now.

♪ ♪

I assume you won't
be able to share

any working theories
Scotland Yard might have.

(laughs):
No, I won't.

Well...

The conversation is closed,

and all that is left to say is
best of luck, Miss Scarlet.

(bell ringing)

(yelling)

Good morning,
Miss Scarlet.
Inspector Blake.

Have you severed your dealings
with the newspaper?

I have.
Is that true?

I thought you could tell
when I was lying.

Very well, come along.

Where are we going?

We have an identification
for the latest victim.

POTTS:
I could not believe my eyes
when I saw who it was.

Caleb Hunt, junior clerk
at Aldgate Mortuary.

One of my colleagues
took delivery of his body

yesterday afternoon.

I was out visiting
some of the other mortuaries

which now fall
under my jurisdiction.

Perhaps Miss Scarlet
has mentioned

that I've recently been
promoted?

BLAKE:
She did not.

But congratulations,
Mr. Potts.

Hm, thank you.

As you know, there was
no identification with the body,

so my colleague,
Mr. Wormsley,

having never met Caleb,
failed to recognize him.

I, on the other hand, made
Caleb's acquaintance

several times at Aldgate.
What can you tell us
about him?

(breathes deeply):
A rather odd fellow.

Withdrawn.

Few if, if any friends.

And as for his timekeeping,
well, I do not exaggerate

when I say
it was most unsatisfactory.

So, when he did not turn up
for work yesterday afternoon,

it rang no alarm bells.

Has the postmortem
been completed?

Ah, last night.

Fracture of the skull
just above the nape of the neck.

Most likely
the cause of death.

Not drowning, like the others?

Oh, no, no, the lungs of
a drowned cadaver would be

filled with water, due
to involuntary inhalation.

His lungs were empty.

So he was dead before
he entered the water.

There were scuff marks
on the heels of his boots.

I would wager he was dragged
to the river,

having been killed
somewhere else.

Where did he live?

Limehouse-- not far
from where his body was found.

Do you have the address?

(people talking in background)

(meows)

There's something else
about this latest murder

that's different
from the others.

The letter sent
by the Reaper arrived

the same day
that the body was found.

And with the others,
it was a day later.

What do you think
caused this change in behavior?

Perhaps something forced him
to panic.

Or someone.

Caleb's lodging room
must be up here.

(people talking in background)

(hinges creak)

Good God.

♪ ♪

The man was obsessed.

Caleb Hunt's murder
was no random killing.

BLAKE:
Go to Scotland Yard

and get some men to help
with the search.

(footsteps approaching)

BLAKE:
I've sent message
to the Yard.

Uniform will be here shortly
to help with the search.

We're perfectly capable of
searching the room ourselves.

It's called following procedure,
Miss Scarlet.

You should try it sometime.

Besides, we may miss
something.

I make it my business
not to miss a thing.

Cheerful fellow, wasn't he?

Still, everyone needs a hobby,
I suppose.

He worked in the mortuary
and saw firsthand the victims.

Perhaps he was carrying out
his own investigation.

Perhaps.

Or he got too close
to the killer's identity

and became the next victim.

There's also the possibility
that he himself was the killer.

Perhaps the last victim
fought back

and killed him in self-defense.

Ah.

What do we have here?

(metal clinking)

Now, I would wager

this was a key to
a safe deposit box.

I've seen similar before.

Does it not seem odd

that a man
who lived in such squalor

would have need
for a safe deposit box?

It's not only valuables
people wish to hide.

It's secrets, too.

We need to find out
how many banks in London

have safe deposit boxes.

I would guess
it's between 20 to 30.

I will then need to apply

for multiple warrants
for multiple banks.

That will take time.

So I doubt we'll be able
to proceed with this lead

for at least a few days.

Or we could just go here.

Bank of Switzerland,
Threadneedle Street, Box 17?

♪ ♪

(exhales heavily)

This is most irregular.

Nevertheless,
I think you'll find

everything covered
in the search warrant.

Hm.

So if you would be kind enough
to open Box 17?

If you insist.

Uh, may I ask,

is the box in question

registered to a Mr. Caleb Hunt?

The bank does not hold lists
of client names here.

No names, no questions--
absolute privacy.

I would have thought
that was obvious.

Inspector,

can you please sign here?

And here.

♪ ♪

And here.

(pen scratching)

Thank you.
(clears throat)

Nothing.

Might you be able
to give us a description

of the account holder?
There are many boxes

and many clients
at this bank.

I merely give them
access to the room.

I don't sit here to see
which client opens which box.

What a ridiculous
suggestion.

Herr Klinsmann,

I shall take you straight
down to Scotland Yard,

waste many hours of your time,

for no other reason than I find
your rudeness extremely irksome.

(exhales)

But what I can tell you is that

there are two clients registered
to this particular box.

Each has their own key.

And the account holder
information

is not kept here, you say?

It is kept in our head office
in Switzerland.

Then please send a telegram

and request the information.

Does your warrant cover
Switzerland, Inspector?

No.

But it will.

Thank you.

♪ ♪

(door closes)

Pompous, jumped-up
little clerk.

I can't abide
any kind of rudeness.

I seem to remember

you were rather rude to me
when we first met.

Getting the warrant
will take some time.

Given that it's
another country,

I'll need to speak
to the Foreign Office.

Let's meet again
when I have what we need.

Well, in the meantime,
I'll go through the case notes

and see if there's anything
I missed.

I thought you made it
your business

not to miss a thing,
Miss Scarlet.

(exhales)

(clears throat)

(horse neighs)

♪ ♪

BLAKE:
Back to the station.

(door closes)

(Blake pounds ceiling)

♪ ♪

(knocks)

Good day, Miss Scarlet.

(door closes)
Oh, uh, Mr. Bailey.

I apologize for interrupting.

I won't keep you.

No, uh, please.

I have come
to make you an offer,

to which you will say no.

The whole thing should take
no longer than a minute,

and then I will let you
get on with your day.

I'm listening.

Now that you're working
for Scotland Yard,

our editor has become far
more interested in you.

Mr. Barnes wishes
to offer you a fee

to pass on any information
that you glean

from working
with Scotland Yard.

All in the strictest
confidence, of course.

Does he now?

He wishes me to offer
a fee of ten pounds.

However, he confided I have
the leeway to go to £20,

if you are a tough
negotiator,

which I assume you are.

Well, you assume correctly,

but I'm afraid the answer is no.

Which is what I told
my editor you would say,

but he threatened to dismiss
me if I didn't at least try.

And that was me trying.

(chuckles)

Well, I shall leave you
to your business.

Uh, however,

our paths may not cross again,

so there is something else.

I wondered, might you be free
tomorrow evening, to dine?

Uh, not to discuss the case,
you understand, just as...

Well, as two people
who wish to go out to dinner.

Oh!

Uh...

I shall give you some time
to think on it.

You know where to contact me.

Good day,
Miss Scarlet.

Good day, Mr. Bailey.

(door closes)

♪ ♪

(chuckles softly)

♪ ♪

(horse neighs)

(blows softly)

Ugh!

Ugh, good Lord!

Good evening, Miss Scarlet.

Mr. Potts.

Ivy's not home yet,
I'm afraid.

But it's nigh on 8:00!

(spoon clatters)

(sighs)

(blows through lips,
sighs)

(blows softly)

Ugh!

Ugh!

Why do I bother?

What's troubling you,
Miss Scarlet?

(sighs):
I'm tired, I'm hungry,

and I neither have the skill
or the patience

to cook anything edible.

I thought you said
you could cook!

Well, I lied.

Sorry-- that was uncalled for.

(sighs):
Cooking is a mystery to me,

and one that I cannot seem
to fathom.

Cooking is no mystery.

It's science,
plain and simple.

Chemistry, to be precise.

(sighs)

Up you get.

(grunts)

What? Why?

I am going to teach you
how to cook.

What, you can cook, Mr. Potts?

How do you think I survived
on my own all these years?

In fact, my plum pudding
is really rather delicious!

(chuckles softly)

See, cooking is
all about preparation.

We do not try
to improvise, or,

God forbid, see it as
some sort of artistic endeavor.

Instead, we plan,

plan, and plan again!

(quietly):
If you say so.

I do indeed!

Now, let's clear
this little lot up,

and start afresh,
shall we?

♪ ♪

So, that's
the potatoes done.

In the bowl.

And we put the bowl

at the top of the line,
because...

Uh, we want all our ingredients

in order of usage.

Very good!
(chuckles)

(sighs, exclaims)

(sighs)
I'm feeling strangely serene.

It's a feeling quite alien
to me when it comes to cooking.

I like this approach.

Well, I, too, find cooking
a relaxing pursuit.

However, I must admit,

I prefer it
when Ivy cooks for me.

She's, after all,
a wonderful cook.

And a wonderful woman.

Ivy thinks a great deal
of you, Mr. Potts.

A great deal, indeed.

(murmurs)

Right!

(clears throat)

On to the next stage,

the cooking.

Ah! The water is
now at boiling point,

at an exact temperature
of 212 degrees Fahrenheit.

Potatoes, if you please?

Um...

I really must congratulate you,
Miss Scarlet.

You have proved to be
an excellent student.

Diligent, willing to learn.

Thank you, Mr. Potts.

(sighs):
I wish I could say the same

for some of my students
at work.

In particular, and I don't mean
to speak ill of the dead,

poor Caleb.

Try as I might to teach him,
he was not a good student.

I had to correct
his administrative errors

on more than one occasion.

Including on a cadaver

involved in the very case you're
working on at the moment.

Oh, the, um,
the Thames Reaper?

Yeah.

Caleb made a woeful mistake.

However,
I'm a man of detail

and duly corrected it,
so no harm done.

What mistake?

(people talking in background,
ship horn blaring)

♪ ♪

Thank you, Mr. Stevens.
Yes, sir.

Take it down, lads.

OFFICER:
Sir.

I want everything
carefully itemized.

Yes, sir.

BLAKE:
So, gentle does it.

It needs to remain intact.

Inspector Blake,
can I have a moment?

Miss Scarlet.

Last night,
I had a conversation

with Mr. Potts
about Caleb Hunt.

Obviously, I didn't go
into details

about what we found here,

but what I did learn
was that, as a junior clerk,

one of his responsibilities

was to log the possessions
found on the corpses

that were brought
into the mortuary.

According to Mr. Potts,

he was rather slapdash.

Sometimes he'd miss things out,

sometimes he'd
make spelling mistakes,

and this was exactly the case
with the third victim,

a Russian named
Aleksander Sochnev.

Caleb misspelt
the Russian's name.

He spelt Aleksander
with an X

and Sochnev with an F.

Mr. Potts noticed a few days
later and corrected it,

but by that time,

the Reaper had already sent
the letter to the newspaper

with the exact same
spelling mistakes.

So Caleb passed on
the identities of the dead

to whoever wrote the letters,
probably in return for money.

And that's why the letters
to the newspaper

took a couple of days
after each body was found.

The Reaper had to wait for Caleb
to send the information.

OFFICER:
Sir?

(object shifts)

♪ ♪

Now, what have you been up to,
Caleb?

It's a blackmail letter.

Caleb Hunt requesting
more money,

since his last demand
was ignored,

and if he doesn't receive
the money,

he'll expose the truth
about the Thames Reaper.

Then he names the recipient
of the letter.

Mr. Sydney Barnes, editor,
"The Morning Herald."

♪ ♪

This is ludicrous!

I am no murderer!

I am the editor of
a national newspaper!

There is no Thames Reaper,
Mr. Barnes, you made him up.

The bodies were just
some poor souls

found in the Thames:
accidental deaths, suicides.

And with the help of Caleb Hunt
providing identities,

you were able to claim
the deaths were the work

of some figment
of your imagination.

And why on Earth
would I want to do that?

Perhaps to increase circulation

because your newspaper
was failing.

I have never even met
this Caleb Hunt!

Really?

He was blackmailing
someone to give him money

in return for his silence
regarding the Reaper's identity,

and according to his letter,

that someone was you,
Mr. Barnes.

And I believe this is what
accounts for Caleb's murder.

(gasping)

I've had no dealings
with this man.

(knock at door)
Hmm-- come!

Sir.

(footsteps retreating)

(door closes)

The Bank of Switzerland
have confirmed your name

as the registered account holder

for a safe deposit box
used by Mr. Hunt.

I believe this was a drop-off
point for money

between the two of you
to pay for his services.

I will not say one more word
before speaking with my lawyer.

BLAKE:
Barnes is denying it, of course,

but there's enough evidence
to charge him.

Perhaps in the future
you might ask

before opening
my new bottle of whisky.

Well, I was waiting
for a rather long time.

Perhaps if you'd allowed me
to attend the questioning...

Are you negotiating with me,
Miss Scarlet?

Um...

Yes.

Perhaps in the future,
you may attend.

I will think on it.

I will need a full report of
the case on my desk first thing.

First thing?

That's what I expect
from my men.

I'll not make exception for you.

Of course.
Is that a problem?

Are you otherwise engaged
this evening?

Well...

It was a possibility, yes.

♪ ♪

Good day, Inspector Blake.

Hm.

(people talking in background,
typewriters clacking)

I may not be home
for dinner.
At this rate, neither will I.

Are you dining out?

Um...

Possibly.

With Inspector
Blake?

No, not Inspector Blake.

Why would you
assume that?

Well, you've been spending
much time together recently...

It's someone else.

Someone you haven't met.
Who?

I just said it was
someone you haven't met.

He seems like
a nice enough man.

But...

I'm, I'm not sure
I will go.

I, I don't know him well.

That's the point in
spending time together, Lizzie.

Like me and Barnabus.

It wasn't love at first sight.

It was for him.
But...

Once we spent more time
together,

we got closer.

Speaking of Mr. Potts...

(murmurs)

I'll let you get on.

Miss Scarlet.

Mr. Potts.

(people talking in background)

(murmuring)

(whispering):
Barnabus,

what are you doing here?

I have some
exciting news.

Reverend Harvey has had
a cancellation, next month!

So he wondered if we'd like
to book it for our wedding day.

I'm at work, Barnabus,
and very busy!

Inspector Blake is
waiting on some notes,

not to mention my other duties
that I'm neglecting.

But your shift ends soon--
I was hoping to escort you home.

I will be working late
this evening.

Again?

I really must get on.

Very well, my dear.

Very well.

♪ ♪

(people talking in background)

♪ ♪

(people talking in background)

(door opens)

BAILEY:
I got your note.

I booked a table at Baron's.

Oh, lovely.

♪ ♪

You heard about your editor,
Mr. Barnes.

The whole office has.

I never warmed to the man,

but I did not think him
capable of such deceit.

I don't know the full story,
of course.

But we have all evening
for you to enlighten me.

(lock turns)

Do not worry, Miss Scarlet,
I merely tease.

I shall not be trying to coax
any information out of you.

I'm very much off duty.

Shall we?

(people talking in background)

(knock at door)

Come!
(door opens)

I've got those files
ready for you, Inspector.

Miss Woods.

Why are you still here?

Oh, well, I had to finish
those reports,

and then there
was the filing to do,

and the log books
to transcribe,

but another hour or so,

and I'll be done.

You cannot work
this amount of hours.

(exhales)
You'll make yourself ill.

I'm fine.

Please.

You do not look fine.

♪ ♪

Perhaps I've bitten off
more than I can chew.

The truth is,
between your needs

and the rest of my duties,

the volume of work
is great, indeed.

But I so want to do my very best
for you, Inspector.

For everyone.

(exhales)

Miss Woods,
you're clearly not coping.

So I believe we need
to rethink your position.

♪ ♪

(people talking in background)

BAILEY:
It's beyond comprehension

that a man could behave
such a way.

Not to mention how humiliating
it is personally for me.

The paper will be
a laughingstock

when the news breaks,
and so will I.

I've just spent the last year

writing about a killer
who doesn't actually exist.

(breathes deeply)

Perhaps I'll make
a career change.

How's the private detective
business these days?

(inhales)

Um, I apologize, I...

Promised not to talk about the
case, and that is all I've done.

(breathes deeply)

Let us talk about
something else entirely.

Like how elegant you look.

I'm only sorry I did not
have time to change, I...

...do you an injustice,
Miss Scarlet.

You're too kind, Mr. Bailey.

(chuckles)

As for the case,

I'm more than happy
to discuss it.

And the crucial piece of
evidence against Mr. Barnes.

There was a safe deposit box in
a bank on Threadneedle Street.

It's a place
where money was deposited

between your editor and
the mortuary clerk Caleb Hunt.

We found the clerk's key
to the box,

but as yet,
no luck with the key

that belonged to Mr. Barnes.
Intriguing.

And now I know why.

Because you have it on
your keyring, Mr. Bailey.

♪ ♪

When we left your office,

it wasn't you talking
about the case

that unsettled me so.

It was watching you
lock up your desk.

And when we arrived
at the restaurant,

contrary to what I told you,
I didn't go to the powder room.

I went to the cloakroom

to search your coat.

♪ ♪

You invented
the Thames Reaper story.

♪ ♪

You tried to cover your tracks
by posing as your editor

when you hired Caleb,

and did the same when you
secured the safe deposit box,

but when Caleb blackmailed you

with the threat of
exposing what you'd done,

you killed him.

I'll not sit here and
be insulted by this nonsense.

Well, you yourself said

the paper was on the verge
of closing.

This was your way

to improve circulation,
wasn't it?

(people talking in background)

I sent a message to Scotland
Yard the moment I found the key.

Lads.

♪ ♪

(guests gasping, murmuring)

♪ ♪

BLAKE:
Mr. Bailey was in pieces
just being cuffed.

I doubt it'll take much

to get a full confession.
(door closes)

I take it you would like
to attend the questioning.

(stammers):
Yes.

Very much so, thank you.

But perhaps next time,

you might wish to wear
something a little

less eye-catching.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(keys jangling, lock turns)

IVY:
Barnabus!

Ivy?

You should not be out alone
at this time of night!

I have some news.

Some very exciting news.

Inspector Blake has asked me
to dedicate myself

to his work only,
like his assistant.

Oh!
(giggles)

Oh, my, I'm...

Bursting with pride,
my dear!
(laughs)

I've missed you.

I've missed you!

Well, you'll miss me
no longer.

From now on, my hours will be
more civilized.

(exhales)
What say

we have a nice glass of sherry

by the fireside to celebrate?

I wholly endorse
that idea!

(laughing)

Perhaps while we sip
the sherry,

we can discuss
the wedding date

that Reverend Harvey
has offered.

Let's just enjoy the evening
together, Barnabus.

We'll, we'll talk about it
another time.

Of course, my dear.

Of course.
(chuckles)

Another time.

(click)

CAMPBELL:
You were released early

because I pulled some strings.

You're a man who can get
things done.

No questions asked.

I will cause you no problems,
Eliza.

Found us a little house.

But we haven't even
set a date for the wedding.

Why haven't you?

Is this because you're worried
about leaving me?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

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