All language subtitles for Episode 7 - Murder in Montparnasse

Get out here, you weasel!

Easy, Thommo, mate.

That's enough damage for one night.

I've got all the dirt on you,
Chambers.

Give it a rest, would ya? He's gone.

Happy now?

Gutless, conniving bastard.

But you didn't have to
take a swing at him.

Come on, mate. It's your shout.

Well, that's it... I'm skint now.

Stony-broke.

Thanks to you.
Oh, dry up, will ya?

Here's your ruddy pound back.
You'll get yours next pay.

Now get off my back. Take it!

Pack it in, you two!
Bloody hell.

I tell ya, you've got a cheek
doing that, that's for sure.

Thommo! HEY! HEY!
Hey, you alright?

Thommo!

Thommo!
It's alright.

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What can you tell us
about the vehicle?

Not much.

The lamps were shining
full in my face.

Something big and flash.

Did you see the registration number?

So the three of you
stopped here before for a drink?

Yeah? So?

What about Thommo? A few beers?
More than that?

Shouldn't you be out there
finding whoever it was did this?

Tell us again exactly what happened
just before the accident.

That wasn't no accident.

We've heard Mr Birmingham and
Mr Cliff were having a disagreement.

Heard? From who?

From Cliff.

They had a few words, that's all.

Just words? There might have been
a bit of shoving.

Which left Mr Birmingham
in the path of an oncoming vehicle.

You reckon Ronnie
did this on purpose?

That car came straight at us!

Ah! Ma petite Phryne.

Veronique Sarcelle?!

Mr Butler, cafe au lait,
s'il vous plait.

Certainement.

What brings you all the way
to Melbourne?

To surprise you, ma chere,
what else?

Can I take your scarf?
No, no, I am fine.

What a surprise.
After all these years!

Oh, I wanted to see
this part of the world.

Pierre always talked
of making the journey.

He wanted to paint in this light.

Which I am still not accustomed to.

How long has it been?

Whew! Nine years, at least.

Good times, oui?

Interesting times.
Ah.

Surely you still have
some of his paintings?

I had to sell them all.

It broke my heart,
but, oh, the bills...

You had to survive somehow.

It was never easy, even before.

But how happy we were. You remember?

I remember the singing
and the dancing

and all those mad, bad parties.

The war was over, Paris was free.

We were intoxicated with life.

And Sarcelle,
he was inspired to paint.

He was like a demon, day and night.

And now it is lost.

At least I know
this one has a safe home.

Do you remember sitting for this?

I remember too much wine for lunch.

'Don't move,'
Pierre kept saying.

'I'm not moving!'
'It's the room!'

Pierre could not then
sell a painting.

After he died,
everyone wanted a Sarcelle.

When it was too late.

This was always one of my favourites.

But there was one I wanted even more.

Oh...!

It cannot be.
She was sold to a dealer.

A dealer commissioned by me.

Ma petit Phryne.

This was the one you truly wanted.

Sarcelle would not part with it.

Ah, Pierre, mon amour.
How I miss you.

I'm sorry.
I never thought to see it again.

You know this was his best work.

That's what he always said.
He would never sell it.

We will never know
what happened that terrible night.

Ah.

Coffee is ready downstairs,
Miss Fisher.

Thank you, Mr Butler.

If a French luncheon is in order,

I noticed that the butcher's shop
has duck in the window.

That's very considerate,
but we will be dining out.

Very good, miss.
Mr Butler.

The painting in the parlour.
You know the one I mean.

Could you please lift it down
and wrap it?

Madame Sarcelle
will be taking it with her.

Of course.
Phryne, no!

I did not come here...
But it belongs with you.

And it's what Pierre
would have wanted.

You must understand,
I cannot pay you.

Which is just the way I want it.

How many times do you need
to hear the same bloody story?

The car headed straight for us.
That's all we know.

Look, we just need
to finish your statements, alright?

Excuse me.

Track down any witnesses?

The bloke from the bakery says
he saw a car parked out front

just before closing.

A blue Rolls.
Did you say Rolls?

Do you know anyone
who owns a blue Rolls?

Hector bloody Chambers.
The bookie?

That slimy,
double-crossing little toad.

First he fleeces us, and then...

Then he tries to run you down? Why?

We got the nod on a horse in
the fourth at Flemington yesterday.

On a fixed race, no doubt.

Don't know nothing about that.

So we all had a tipple.
Fifty to one.

Bet a pound each with Chambers.

And the horse came in first?
By four lengths.

So we front Chambers
in the back bar.

When Thommo tried to get him
to cough up, he just laughed at us.

Said he wouldn't pay out
on a tip-off.

That's when there was a bit of biff.

We told Thommo, Chambers wasn't
worth it, but it was too late.

He took a swing.
Birmingham hit Chambers?

Bert! Oh, you blokes
are a sight for sore eyes.

Just been to see Thommo's missus
at the hospital.

And?

Not good.

Out of my road, Tarzan.

What now, sir?

We have a word with Chambers,
Constable,

before Bert and his mates do.

Trust me, Seth.

This nag's had
so much rocket fuel pumped into her

she could run to Sydney and back.

Yeah, no problem.

Hector Chambers?

Who wants to know?

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

Bit early in the day to be drinking,
isn't it?

Pure health tonic.

Kicked alcohol years ago.
Gives me gout.

No ill effects from smoking, though?

None at all.

Why don't you tell us
how your motor vehicle

came to be involved
in a hit-and-run last night?

Or you could tell me.

You had a dispute about a bet
with the victim.

I understand he gave you that shiner.

I'm a well-to-do gentleman.

I've got better things to do

than run down diggers
for the sake of 150 quid.

So you admit
they did place bets with you?

I admit nothing.

Mm.

Oh! Never seen that before.

It's a public bar. Nothing to do
with me, so you can't charge me.

How about we charge you
with murder instead, hmm?

Murder? What?

Birmingham and his colleagues
placed a bet,

but there was a dispute
when you refused to pay out.

Then he struck you a blow to the eye

and you retaliated
by running him down.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses.

The Police Association clubrooms

must be in need of, what,
a couple of new punching bags, yeah?

Some new table tennis paddle sticks,
yeah?

Add bribery to the charges.
Yes, sir.

Look, my Rolls was stolen.

How convenient.

I might even have half an idea
who stole it.

His name?

I'm bad with names.

Something, uh, foreign.

Describe him.

Foreign-looking.

Doesn't sound like much of an alibi.
Sure you want to stick to that story?

The foreigner stole my Rolls.

C'est Cafe Anatole!

Re-created
down to the last tiny detail,

as Cafe Replique,
for obvious reasons.

Mademoiselle Fisher!

It has been too long.

And who is your charming friend?

Anatole, c'est moi! Veronique!

Veronique?
Oui!

Sarcelle? Oui!
Ma chere! I hardly recognise you!

You are well?
Oui, oui, of course.

And you?
Life is good.

An early luncheon is highly in order.
Is that onion soup I smell?

Made fresh this morning.

With cognac?
Naturellement. Ah bon.

Jean, soupe a I'oignon for two.

Yes, sir.
May I take your coat?

Oui.

Ah, merci, Jean.

Not your usual table,
Mademoiselle Fisher,

but Veronique
will like this one much better.

Regardez vous.

The opening of Cafe Anatole
of Paris.

Ah...

Oh!

Without you, we would have starved.

Such a great artist.

I like to think I helped him
in some small way.

Oh, Pierre.

But it is good...

the French police have reopened the
investigation into his death, oui?

Have they?

It was reported
in the French newspapers.

I have La Presse posted to me.
I keep them all.

What prompted the reopening
of the investigation?

Now that his work is famous,
now they care.

You are here with the police?

No. I came only
to see my old friend, Phryne.

Have they found the Australians
who saw what happened?

The gendarmes,
they do not confide in me.

Excusez moi.

Do you know
what line of investigation

the police are pursuing?

Perhaps I could be of assistance.

That's right,
you are now the detective.

If there's any way that I could help.

It is a thing of the past.

There's nothing the police can do
that will bring Pierre back.

Some things cannot be undone.

Ah.
Voila.

Merci!

Ah, merci, merci!
Voila.

Bon appetit.

Does Anatole still give the room
to the artists after closing?

Yes.
Ah.

But it's not
the same as it was.

Ah, Pierre, mon amour.

Mm.
Veronique, je t'aime.

Ah, the cognac!

Ah, Rene, we thought
you were not coming! Mwah!

Mon ami!

My new model, Mademoiselle Phryne.

Tu approuve?

What treasure is this?

Rene Dubois,
at your service, mademoiselle.

Quite lovely, isn't it?
Mm. Very.

The way her...
Hello.

Dot!
Hugh.

Uh...

You said you wanted
to go to the pictures tonight.

What, tonight?

I... don't think I can.

Uh, it's your favourite. The Sheik.

Oh.

But I have sewing and baking to do
for the fete.

Well, I thought ice-cream
at Kerby's, and then maybe... a...

a walk along the pier afterwards.

I... I can't, Hugh.
I've got a headache.

I think I should just take a powder
and have a quiet night.

Uh, maybe tomorrow night, then.

Maybe.

I... I hope you feel better.

Thank you for the tea, Mr Butler.
Mm.

What is it, Dorothy?

I was down at the church,
helping to organise for the fete,

and Fr Grogan
made me go to confession.

Made you?

It's been a while.

He said he's tried
to be understanding

ever since I started working
for Miss Fisher.

Like when I pretended
to be in the family way

to help catch Butcher George,

or... when I helped the Latvians
with the bank robbery.

You were taken hostage at the time.

But he says he draws the line at...

What?

Kissing a Protestant.

He said I'm not to see Hugh again.

Oh, dear.

Thommo, you right mate?

Right as rain.

What?

He said 'Right as rain'.
Sure you are.

I'll get you some water.

Nurse.

Nurse!

I'm sorry.

There's plenty of room.
You're more than welcome to stay.

Merci, non.
You have been more than generous.

But I am tired.

Such a good lunch.

At least let me give you a lift home.

Ah, the Seascape Hotel
is not so far from here.

The walk will do me good.
In Paris, I walk everywhere.

You'd tell me if there was
anything I could do to help you?

Of course.

And you will come back for dinner?

I look forward to that.

Ah.

Merci beaucoup.

You will never know
how much this means.

You were always his favourite model.

You're beautiful on the outside
and the inside.

Au revoir.
Au revoir.

Ah, carotte?
Oui.

Parfait!

Voila!

Rene, you waste your talent.

This dadaism is just empty parody.

There can be no brave new world
if there is no brave new art.

Well, if this is the new art,

then I will happily remain
in the Dark Ages.

- A dinosaur, that is you, mon ami.
- Mwah!

It's a crime... wasting
a beautiful body like this black cat

on the likes of you.

And you, Monsieur Rene...

what would you do with my body?

I think you are so brave, miss,

to stand in a room full of men,
with no clothes.

I didn't have two centimes
to rub together after the war.

My ambulance unit had been disbanded,

and my family had no idea
where to send me money.

And it was exhilarating.

But you were all alone in a foreign
country. Weren't you scared?

I don't think I was sensible enough
to be scared.

I'll let Mr Butler know he'll
need to buy that duck after all.

Sorry to disturb you, miss.

Mr Johnson and Mr Yates
would like a word.

What's this?

I've got another
couple of quid, too.

I want to hire you,
same as anybody else would.

I suggested
we call in the professional.

My money's as good as any toff's.

I'm at your service, Bert.

And there is no question
of me charging you.

It will be my honour to help.

So, you think this Hector Chambers is
responsible for your friend's death?

The baker saw the Rolls just
after it collected Mr Birmingham.

The driver then continued on
round the next corner,

drove on the wrong side
of the road...

Not a lot of crime out there today?

Ah, Miss Fisher.

I was wondering when Bert
would wheel in the heavy artillery.

Bert is naturally keen to see
some movement in this tragic matter.

And as movement in copper speak
means 'slower than a wet week'...

Mr Chambers claims
his car was stolen, Bert.

Stolen my ar... Aunt Mary.

We're trying
to re-create the scene of a crime.

So I see. Yours?

They're... it... my...
They're my... it's my nephew's.

Uh, and if you could please
not touch.

Beep beep!

Looks like the driver's
had a few too many sherries.

Can't have been Hector Chambers,
then.

Why?

He doesn't drink.
His preferred vice is cheap cigars.

What are these?
Collisions.

As I was saying,

the driver then clipped
the milk truck,

drove over the bollard
and drove off.

Must have done some damage.

And left a lot of bloody evidence.

He's hit the milk truck here,

and then continued
over the bollard there.

The local constables
were all over this.

And they found the glass
from the broken head lamp?

It's all in the report.

So they noticed the engine oil?
Uh...

And if he's done his sump,
he wouldn't get far.

He could've knocked the plug loose.

Wouldn't come out right away.
Up the street a bit, maybe.

Just...

How far exactly
did these constables look?

I... J...

Just...

Here's some more oil.

Not a lot left.
Sump'd be running dry by this time.

Can't be much further.
Engine would've seized up.

Just what we need,
an amateur detective on the job.

With us professionals?

Nothin'.

It didn't bleeding vanish
off the face of the earth.

I suspect not, Bert.

Should we add psychic powers

to your already considerable list
of accomplishments?

No, just an exceptionally
good sense of smell.

You mentioned something
about cheap cigars.

Chambers.

Get back.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

I'd prefer you not to let
all of Fitzroy know we're here.

You got a better idea?
Yeah.

You two ladies
stay here with Miss Fisher.

She won't be going anywhere,
not in that skirt.

Keep your shirts on, gentlemen.

No need for anyone
to miss out on the fun.

Morning, sir.

Lovely car.

Had a bit of a bingle, did we?

Where's Chambers?

Hey...! Who?
Give me that, you idiot!

Hector Chambers.

Never heard of him.
But you just happen to have his car.

I come home from me shift,

there she was in the laneway,
right outside my gate.

Only thing missing was
the wrapping paper and gift card.

I found her, right?
Not a word of a lie.

Problem is, this car
was used in a hit-and-run incident.

A man was killed.
Bloody hell.

Well, no wonder he scarpered.

Who, the driver?
Yeah.

Can you describe him?

So high. Hat, jacket.

Is this the man?

That don't look like him. The other
bloke, though, he was um...

Uh, foreign-looking?
Yeah. Yeah, that's it.

Looks like Hector Chambers
was telling the truth.

Well, there's a turn-up
for the books.

But let's do a thorough check
of the car.

The Church fete?

Fr Grogan is determined

to make more money
than St Christopher's this year.

Two more nut loaves.

I think he has a wager on it.

I thought gambling was a sin.

Well, I hope he appreciates
all your efforts...

sewing, baking...

especially given
his lack of understanding

about Hugh being a Protestant.

Fr Grogan
says he's merely God's messenger.

But there must be something
you can do to convince him

that stepping out with
a nice young man like Hugh Collins

isn't a sin.

What would Miss Fisher do?

She'd probably make a big donation,
or pull a gun on him.

Though I don't think either of those
things would even budge my priest.

You're a woman with influence,
Dorothy,

though you may not realise it.

How?

Well, you're crucial
to the success of the fete.

If, for some reason,

you decided not to fulfil
your commitments to the Church,

then I suspect you,

along with your handicrafts
and mending and baking

would be sorely missed.

I would.

But isn't that... blackmail?

Oh, Miss Fisher
wouldn't see it like that.

It'd be... calling his bluff.

Shall I keep
the confit de canard warm, miss?

I'm sure it will be just
as delicious tomorrow, Mr Butler.

But it does seem that Madame Sarcelle
will not be making an appearance.

Is that the Seascape Hotel?

I'd like to speak with
one of your guests, Madame Sarcelle?

S-A-R-C-E-L-L-E.

It's French.

Could you please check again?

You have no idea
where she might be staying?

No, but wherever it is,
I suspect she's fallen on hard times.

Not going to stay for another cocoa?

Got some nosing around to do.

Since the coppers
aren't up for much.

Chambers' story about his car
being stolen seems to hold water.

Isn't it possible that someone else
had something against your Thommo?

It was Chambers. Dead cert.

Yeah, and if it wasn't him
behind the wheel,

it was one of his cronies.

Thanks for the cocoa.

Thanks, miss.

You think
they're wasting their time?

It doesn't add up, Dot.

A career criminal like Chambers

doesn't seem the type to run over
one of his punters in a fit of pique.

There's some other angle to this.

Stay here.

Mr Butler! Help!

He had a car parked in the lane.
I'll telephone the police.

No, Mr Butler,
it can wait till morning.

But what if he returns?
He won't.

He got what he was after.

There's only one French-bound vessel

due to sail from Melbourne
in the next month,

and there's no Sarcelle
on the passenger list.

Well, at least we know she won't be
leaving the country in a hurry.

I do know when this lady arrived
in Melbourne, if that's any help.

It was only ten days ago
on the Empress of Australia.

Apparently there was a passenger
named Sarcelle

who spent the entire voyage
in the sick bay.

She was travelling
with her husband.

Husband?

She never remarried.

So we're looking for an accomplice.

Ron, open up!

Ronnie! Ronnie!

Ronnie, no!

There's nothing else
that you could have done, Bert.

Thank God you're safe.

Ronnie's bed was on fire.

I did my best to get to him.

I could see him there.

Even at the last,
he was waving me to get back.

But I couldn't help him.

This doesn't make... Just d...

So you finished the war in France?

Demobbed in Paris.

Took their bloody time
getting us home.

Not that I'm complaining.
There are worse cities to kill time.

Should have seen it.
Just wall-to-wall diggers.

Making more noise
than a flock of cockies at sunset.

Drunk cockies at that.

Ronnie was always the one
to drag us out sightseeing.

Hey? Only sight you saw
was the bottom of a glass.

Used to come stumbling back
to the station at the crack of dawn.

Station? What station?

Don't know. What was the name
of the one we left from?

♪ From Montparnasse, parlez vous? ♪

♪ Mademoiselle from Montparnasse,
parlez vous? ♪

♪ Mademoiselle... ♪

Mont... Mont...
Montparnasse.

♪ From Montparnasse... ♪

He dropped a painting.

We handed it in.

I thought it was
next to the article

about repairs to the Eiffel Tower,
but...

Ah. Voila.

'French police have reopened the case

into the death of
well-known artist Pierre Sarcelle

nearly ten years
after he was pushed under a train...

at Montparnasse Station
in January 1919.'

♪ Mademoiselle from Montparnasse,
parlez vous? ♪

'It is believed his killer

was attempting to steal
Sarcelle's last painting...'

'Woman with Peignoir.'

It must be him.

Who else would kill
for that painting?

Arch your neck, if you please.

Good. Good. Good.

Good, good.

- Let's go!
- Rene!

On y va!

I told you I was working tonight.

And I told you no more. C'est fini!

Rene! Are you mad?

Rene, please, no trouble.

I'm coming.

You are the only one
who understands me...

ma chat noir.

'The police are making every effort
to assist

to find three Australian soldiers

who may be able
to assist with enquiries.'

They're looking for Bert
and his friends.

Rene got to two of them first.

Rene?

Rene Dubois?

To silence the men
who saw him kill Pierre.

Yes, miss.

Uh, sir,
it's Miss Fisher on the telephone.

Please explain to her
that I'm not at her beck...

She said it's an emergency.
She thinks Bert is in danger.

Miss Fisher?

Wait, please, slow down.

And did the barman at the Flora
say where Bert was heading?

I'll be right there.

Six, seven, eight...

To Ronnie.
To Ronnie.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...

Thanks heavens.

Thirty-one, thirty-two...

Bert!

You're not going anywhere.

I'm not about to be frightened off
by some froggy with a peashooter.

But you are about to lay low
for a while, well out of harm's way.

For me, Bert.

- Please.
- I'll keep an eye on him, miss.

I suppose the cab
could do with a wash.

Thank you, Bert. I appreciate it.

Miss.

Thank you very much. Goodbye.

Turns out the French authorities
DID send a letter to the army.

It sat on a Second Lieutenant's desk
for a month,

then moved to a Major's desk,
then finally to a Brigadier's.

The wheels of international justice
turn slowly.

I suspect Bert
would have been contacted

before the century was out.

Le ce se ne...

I'm afraid my French
isn't quite what it should be.

Bert and his mates
were at Montparnasse station

when Rene pushed Pierre Sarcelle
under a train.

Now Rene's here to make sure
no one speaks with the gendarmes.

So he comes to the other end of the
earth to track down the witnesses?

Then steal a painting or two
while he's here?

Rene is an opportunist.

Any other ideas
as to how we track him down?

Apart from Veronique, I have no idea
who else he might be in contact with.

There is one person
we know he had dealings with.

How did Dubois
get in contact with you?

The traditional way.
He came up to me, started talking.

What did he want?

And you are?

I'm the woman who'll make
you suffer, and suffer dearly,

if you don't start talking.

We're dealing with not one but two
suspicious deaths.

Nothing to do with me.

I can smell
an accessory-to-murder charge

in the wind.

Look, he must have seen Birmingham
clock me, OK?

He sidled over,
and he bought me a drink,

and then he told me
how I should get even.

Then he offered me ã500.

For?

To knock 'em off.

What, the three of them?

Mm.

Thought he was having me on...
but he didn't seem the joking sort.

So, what did you say?

I told him I'd,
uh, I'd have to think about it.

ã500 don't seem
like a lot for a hanging offence.

You thought
you could get the price up?

I was stalling him.

He said he had
a valuable piece of art to sell,

and if I helped him move it on,
I'd get a piece of the pie.

I said I'd get back to him
if I was interested.

How?

He gave me the card, uh,
for some hotel he was staying at.

He said he'd be there
for the rest of the week.

Here it is.

The Seascape Hotel.

Veronique was there the whole time,
but under the name of Dubois.

Open the door!
Veronique! Ouvrez la porte!

Right.
Sir, wait, wait!

Out of the way.

Veronique!

Mon Dieu.

What has he done to you?

I am so ashamed.

After Pierre died, I was so lost,

and Rene, at first, was...

Charm itself.

For a short while, oui.

Now he has taken his bags
and left me for dead.

No need to explain.

Do you know where he is?

No.

Rene killed Pierre.

No.

And now he's here
to kill the witnesses.

And you, you are not safe either.

What did I ever do to Rene?

You broke his heart.

And for that, he want to kill you.

You are mine. You understand? Mine!

Not Sarcelle's!

Or anybody's.

Mine.

Body...

mind...

and soul.

You are not afraid?

He's the one who ought to be afraid.

Miss Fisher has come up with
a plan to get you out of the cells.

You gonna post bail?

Better than that.
I'm all ears.

I want you to get word to Dubois.

Tell him you know someone
who can sell that painting.

Why would I do that?

I thought you wanted some fresh air,
Hector.

But it's easy enough
to keep you locked up indefinitely.

Tell him
you'll meet him at Cafe Replique

this afternoon at 3pm.

So I'm the sacrificial goat
in all of this, eh?

Hey? Is that it?

And a charming little goat
you are, too.

Et pour Monsieur,
escargots avec garlic butter.

Bon appetit.

To think I managed to avoid snails

the entire time
I was posted in France.

Mm.

Not bad.

Like buttered pieces
of India rubber.

The room is full of police.

You couldn't be more safe.

Just what we need.

Who invited the comrades?
They must have followed us.

They're going to ruin everything.
Phryne, no.

Dubois could be here any minute.

Here. Sit here.
I'll keep an eye out for him.

Monsieur?
W...

I don't feel I have
your full attention, Miss Fisher.

Eyes front. Phryne.

Phryne!

Long time no see.
This is from Thommo and Ronnie.

Bert, no!

Police! Out of the way!

My Phryne.
It has been too long, no?

Agh.

Drop it, monsieur.

Stay back, Jack!

You would not shoot me.

I'm not afraid of you.

Are you alright?

I believe I am.

How was Church, Dorothy?
Wonderful.

And the headache?
Gone, completely.

Clothing, crafts, cakes,
all delivered?

After I had a chat with Fr Grogan.

Was it a profitable chat?

I told him
I was thinking of converting.

Very nice, Dorothy.

And what did Fr Grogan
say to that?

Well, he says he thinks I should
bide my time with my Protestant.

Perhaps he will follow God's shining
beacon to the Catholic Church.

Oh! Wonderful news.
Mm.

And where will
you be biding your time tonight?

Hugh's taking me to the pictures.

Oh, you should take this
along with you.

Miss Fisher wanted Constable Collins
to have it.

For his nephew.

This is certainly
a well-travelled work of art.

A little like me.

Thank you...
for helping to retrieve it.

You're blushing.

I'm a grown man, Miss Fisher.

I'm not likely to blush
at the sight of a little bare flesh.

That's what surprises me,
Detective Inspector.

In fact... lately...

you're full of surprises.

It's all part of the job.

I have to get back to the station.

Excuse me.

Goodnight, then.

Goodnight.

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