Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 11, Episode 11 - Biffers and Blockers - full transcript

When a player dies violently on the cricket pitch , Murdoch and Brackenreid encounter some unsportsmanlike behavior.

Henry will be happy that you're here.

Oh, yes. He's mentioned
it at least a dozen times.

This is his first game with the team.

A rather important one, I hear.

- Oh...
- Look, it's Murdoch!

I must say,

I'm surprised how popular it is.

Look at all these people!

Do you know the rules?

Not in the slightest.


that must be the Serbian
count that Henry mentioned.

His family was recently outed

in a coup a few years ago.


There is something rather
swarthy about him, isn't there?

Look at how the players are
positioned strategically on the field,

a line of defence anticipating

any and all outcomes.

Julia, this is quite a lot.

Are we expecting someone?

Yes, we are, William.

Oh, you... you don't mean...

I do.

It actually worked?

We're having a baby!

- Oh! Oh!
- Oh!

Oh, I'm very sorry. Are you all right?

- Of course. I'm not made of glass.
- I...

I don't know what to say.

I love you.

I love you too, William.

And I couldn't be happier.

But I do think that we
should keep this between us,

- at least for a little while.
- Right. Right.

Isn't there a law against
that kind of thing?

Have you got something to hide?

Are you enjoying the game, sir?

Ah, not really.

England may have exported
the rules, but not the talent.

Here we go! Come on!

Look at that.

Ridiculous! The batsman's
stance is all wrong.

- Come on, Higgins! Get a move on!
- Oh, Inspector!

One does not yell at a cricket match.

Oh, really? Is that what this is?

Rupu! Oh, that's Rupert, my brother.

The alive one.

He's quite something.

Doesn't my Henry look so
dashing in his uniform?

He is fitting in quite well here.

They're referred to as
whites, Miss Newsome.

Oh. Is this the Serbian count

- that's been staying with you?
- Oh, yes. Count Dagon Petrovitch.

He said our estate was
the finest he'd ever seen.

He has impeccable taste.


The rules in Serbia
must be quite different.

Don't worry, you can take him!


- Go on, lad! Get after him!
- Oh, Inspector, it's...

This is as bad as hockey.

Perhaps the other ball had a defect.

If this batsman's
anything like the last one,

he won't make a blind bit of difference.

Bloody hell!

Julia... perhaps you shouldn't.

- Why not?
- This was particularly violent,

and what with your condition,

I thought it might be best
to let Miss Hart handle it.

Nonsense, William!

Just because I'm accompanying doesn't
mean I can't do my job properly.

All right.

Front foot planted firmly
down the crease. Head down.

Strong follow through,
and fours will come.

Six is strictly for the
anarchists. Here endeth the lesson.

So this one's different. Any thoughts?


Yes, sir. It would appear someone
put explosive inside the ball.

We all saw that.


The count is ready
to speak when you are.

Yes. Henry, tell us about the victim.

Michael O'Donnell, sir.

He'd been a part of the
professionals team for some years,

from what I understand.

And the history between the teams?

Well, sir, as you may have heard
me mention several times this week,

they are all professional
cricket players.

Every year, they face off
against us, the Gentlemen.

We are hobbyists of some distinction.

So basically, a bunch of rich buggers

pay to be humiliated by professionals.

Mr. O'Donnell was sledging the count
in the lead up to the game, sir.

- "Sledging"?
- A form of mental intimidation.

He and some teammates would show
up at practice and taunt the count,

- yell insults, that sort of thing.
- For what purpose?

Sir, some people simply
resent us for our wealth.

Brewster? Here.

- Sir?
- Take Miss Newsome home

and then lay out my formal
attire for this evening.

I have an engagement
at the club tonight.

What just happened? Who
the bloody hell is Brewster?

Oh, Ruth insisted I take
on a manservant, sir.

Part of my "transformation,"
as she calls it.

Ah, yes. You seem to
have adjusted quite well.

Sir, I feel it's the life
I should have always lived.


You killed him, you Serbian bastard!

- What are you saying?
- I know it was you.

- You are a madman.
- Who is that man?

Sam McTier, sir. He was
also sledging the count.

I believe he was quite
close to O'Donnell.

Why aren't you arresting
him? He blew up my friend.

I mean, my God, this is his blood.

Yes. I'm very sorry for
the loss of your friend,

but I still have questions.

What do you think was the
count's motive for doing this?

- We embarrassed him.
- But why?

This game is our chance to show
these twits they can't just buy glory.

You know, we've been
trousing them for years.

But then we heard about
this count, that he was...

he was a ringer.

Did Mr. O'Donnell have
direct contact with the count?

No, so. At least, I don't think so.

We just wanted him to
know we were watching.

Only a maniac would do this,
Detective. He has to hang!

- Mr. Petrovitch?
- Count Petrovitch, or my Lord, if you prefer.

Detective Murdoch, Inspector
Brackenreid, Toronto Constabulary.

Why did you switch balls
just prior to the explosion?

The stitching was coming loose.

This is why I nearly hit that poor man.

It looked to me like
you did it on purpose.

Do you play cricket, Inspector?

I'm from Yorkshire. Of course I do.

And I'm a damn sight
better than you lot.

Then you will understand what I mean
when I say the ball was drifting.

I merely exchanged it for a better one.

The victim, Mr.
O'Donnell, and Mr. McTier,

had been antagonizing you in
the days prior to the match?

Yes! Very unsportsmanlike for
professional cricket players

- in my humble opinion.
- Did you retaliate in any way?


I was in the Serbian army.

If I wanted to kill that man,

I would have just shot him like a dog...

which I have done.

Thank you... Count.

We will be in touch.


Where do the players obtain
their cricket equipment?

The only sporting goods store
in town, sir: Christianson's.

Right. Have constables
fetch a new ball for me

and bring it round to the station house.

Oh, and, uh... I'll need a saw.

The centre is cork, layered
with tightly-wound string.

It's possible someone could
have made their own ball

and encased an explosive inside.

I imagine an assembled ball
could also be tampered with,

with the right tools.

It would be more
difficult, but possible.

If it was filled with explosive,

why didn't it blow on the first bounce?

We can assume they used a
less volatile combustible:

leadite, nitroglycerine.
Both are relatively common.

I'll know more once I
examine the ball fragments.

The constables are scouring
the field as we speak.

I'll see if Dr. Ogden has
completed the post-mortem.

That may give us something.

Oh, the... the good
doctor. Is she all right?

She looked a bit flushed earlier.


just the excitement
of the game, I'm sure.


Ah, the sound of willow on leather.

Oh! What's this?

- These are for your table.
- Oh!

And this is a tonic in powder form

meant to ease the symptoms of nausea.

How thoughtful. Thank you.

I'll put these in some water.

How are you feeling?

I'm fine, William. Honestly.

We can live our lives normally,
at least for a little while.

It's all I can think about lately.

It is exciting.

After everything we've been through...

it almost feels like a dream.

Well, almost.

Ah, yes. Have you finished?

I removed the debris. What was
left of him was badly damaged.

Did you happen to find any
fragments of the ball itself?

I need to determine the explosive.

Well, that's the odd
thing. There weren't any.

Just splinters of wood from the bat.

Strange. It should've blown up with it.

Perhaps the explosion
incinerated it completely.

I don't think the exothermic force

would've been powerful enough for that.

There should be at
least some trace of it.

One would think.

Well, I should get back and
re-examine the evidence, then.


Constable McNabb said it was in
the range of the rest of the debris.

He thought it might be something.

It appears to be a plug of some kind.

Well, at least we know the
ball wasn't the explosive.

It's nearly intact.

Well, sir, that would mean that
the count is innocent, then.

One step at a time, Henry.

So the bomb was in the bat.

I believe so, sir.

So what exactly happened
to this little chap, then?

If I'm correct, the plug
that killed this squirrel

was used to hold the
explosive inside the bat,

which must've been hollowed out.

- So when the ball hit the bat...
- It triggered the explosion,

which blew the plug
out with some velocity.

So poor little Sammy here
was an innocent bystander.

Well, that's tragic.

Henry, how do the
players go about choosing

which bats they'll use in a game?

Are they shared?

Not on our team, sir.

You have your own bat, Higgins?!

Of course, sir. It's named Ruth.

You've named your bat
after your lady friend?!

What about the professionals?

Oh, I believe they may
share equipment, sir.

So whoever made the bomb

either handed it to O'Donnell

or placed it where they
knew he'd pick it up.

Henry, did you happen to see
if someone handed him the bat?

Actually, yes, sir.

Mr. McTier?

Detective. Inspector.

Have you arrested the murderer?

Actually, there's a strong
chance we're looking right at him.


Who gave Mr. O'Donnell the
bat he used in the game?

I, uh...

I don't remember. Why?

- The bomb that killed him was inside it.
- What?!

- How is that possible?
- It just is!

Mr. McTier, who handed him the bat?

I did. But I had no idea!

- Please, I'm not lying.
- You understand, we get that quite a lot.

The bat wasn't even one of
ours. It was the count's.

You handed Mr. O'Donnell
the count's personal bat?

- Why?
- It was stupid.

We thought we'd score on
him with his poncy bat,

then parade it in front of him.

How did you know it was the count's?

It had an engraved handle.

Did anyone else know of your plans?

- Other teammates, perhaps?
- No.

Please! I could never
kill another human being.

We may need to speak
with you further on this.

Of course, Detective.

So no one else knew.

Which means Mr. O'Donnell
was not the intended victim.

Someone was trying to kill the count.

Oh, my dear, sweet Natasha.

In all the commotion, I
thought she'd been stolen.

So she's responsible
for this man's death?

Well, the explosive inside of it...

- her... yes.
- How awful!


When was the bat last
used prior to the game?

At our last practice, the day before.

Then I believe she was
placed in my stall overnight.

Do you know of anyone who
had access to the change rooms

- who may have wished you harm?
- I can't think of a single person.

The count is loved by all, Detective.

Unless you consider the Bulgarians...

but few do.

"The Bulgarians"?

The count fought in the battle of
Pirot during the Serbo-Bulgarian war.

- He's a war hero.
- I was merely doing my duty, my dear Ruth.

Though you're not the first to say it.

Yes. Well, are there
any Bulgarians in Toronto

- who may wish to harm you?
- No.

Only those men on the other team.

Right. Thank you, Count.

Miss Newsome.

Oh, it may be best for
you to remain out of sight

until we can determine what is going on.

But the game has been rescheduled
for tomorrow afternoon.

I will not hide like some
Macedonian, Detective!

Whoever did this, let them come.

Is there anyone else who
could've got into the equipment?

Not that I know of, sir.

The killer must have gained access

to the change room prior to the game.

It's the only time the
bomb could've been planted.

Henry, who was the last person to
leave practice the night before?

That would be Dr. Newsome, sir.

It was his turn to gather
the equipment afterwards.

- You take turns?
- Yes, sir. Alphabetically.

Ridgewell Munt did it the night before.

- Right. Bring in Mr. Newsome.
- It's Dr. Newsome.



Does your man have to
stand out there like that?

It would be undignified
to let him sit, sir.

But why is he here?

- To tend to my needs, of course.
- What bloody "needs"?

You'd be surprised how many I have.

Come, Brewster.

Thank you for coming in, Doctor.

If I may, what sort of doctor are you?

A cardiac surgeon.

A surgeon! Oh.

And what hospital do
you practice out of?

I don't practice,
Detective! I'm a gentleman,

a man of titles. I leave
it to others to... perform.

I see.

Doctor... Newsome, to your knowledge,

were you the last person
to leave the change room

- the night before the murder?
- As far as I know, yes.

And do you recall
collecting the count's bat?

Vaguely. There are over a dozen
bats in our cache, Detective.

Please, don't.

Did anyone else come
into contact with it

- after you left?
- No.

I suppose I was the last.

Just what are you implying, sir?

Because I'll remind you of
he to whom you are speaking!

Yes... I'm well aware.

I'm simply trying to
track the murder weapon.

I didn't plant a bomb
in our star player's bat!

I put it back in his stall
as I did with all the others.

Do you know of anyone who may
have wished the count harm?


we haven't won against the
professionals in seven years.

Not only is the count the best
cricket player I've ever seen,

he reaffirms the necessary divide

between the honourable
proletariat and the beau monde!

I'm captain of the team.

If I knew of anyone who wished him harm,

I would've come to you immediately.

You saw no one else that evening?

Actually, yes.

Leonard Killjoy, a teammate.

He wanted to talk
about my recent decision

to replace him as opening bowler.

Bumpy's a tad upset.

And the count was the
one who replaced... Bumpy?


Well, I was upset about
being replaced, yes.

But I'd never fault a team for
putting their best players first.

No, what bothered me most
was that the count lied to us.

- How so?
- He's always going on

about his big battle in Bulgaria.
It all just seemed so contrived.

So I contacted a professor
friend at the university.

Dagon Petrovitch never
fought in the Battle of Pirot.

That was the famous
General Dragon Petrovitch.

But how do you know the
count didn't fight as well?

Well, because Dagon
Petrovitch was driving gypsies

out of northern Serbia and
into Hungary at the time.

Is there proof of this?

Well, my professor friend
found a newspaper article

in a British paper in the
archives. It should still be there.

Where did you go after you
spoke to Dr. Newsome that night?

I had dinner with a woman.

- And after dinner?
- I mustn't say.

We engaged in amorous
congress the entire evening.

If we ask, she'll confirm this?

- She most certainly will not.
- So our count's a liar.

Quite common in those
circles, I'd imagine.

That type are always
building themselves up

to be something they're not.

But it does raise some suspicions, sir.

If he lied about that, what
else might he be lying about?

You think he could be
the one to kill O'Donnell?

Perhaps he learned of the plot to
steal his bat and sabotaged it first.

Sirs? I checked on Mr. Killjoy's alibi.

The woman he was with
corroborated his story.

It was off-putting, sir.

Have a look at this, Higgins.

Your war hero.

I don't understand. He
wasn't at the battle of Pirot?

No, sir, he showed me his scars.

He has battle scars?

Yes, sir. Quite a deep one,
in fact. Right down here.

Right here, you say.
How big is this scar?

I'd say... like that.

That's an appendectomy scar, Henry.

This article clearly states that
you were hundreds of miles away

flushing gypsy camps
out of norther Serbia.

I've never seen this before.

It says right there, "cousin of
the king's wife, Dagon Petrovitch."

- That's you, is it not?
- Gentlemen...

in the chaos of war,

many facts are distorted or fabricated.

Sometimes things take on
a mythology of their own.

The chap who fought at Pirot
was named as Dragon Petrovitch,

which means that you
got your own name wrong!

So tell us, who are you? Really?

- Besides a man without an appendix.
- What a surprise!

- Hello, darling.
- Good evening, officers.

- What's this about?
- These men are implying

that I am some sort
of a liar or a fraud.

Oh, you're not, Henry, are you?

No. Not exactly.

I'm not.

They are.

I'm afraid I must ask you to leave.

This man is a victim, not a criminal,

and the fact that you are questioning
him is frankly inexcusable!

This man can't even remember
which battle he fought in!

How dare you, sir?!

Honestly, this is ridiculous!

I have half a mind to
toss you out myself!

- Dr. Newsome, please.
- Rupu, count to 10.

The man is royalty, Ruthie!

- This man is lying to you, Newsome!
- An inflammatory accusation, sir!

- Oh, call it what you like!
- I refuse to listen to any more of this.

Rupu, please! Oh!

What is that?

It's mine.

I was bringing it upstairs
when these men arrived.

- Oh.
- Oh! Allow me to assist you.

- No, that's all right.
- No, please. I insist.

- No, no, no, no!
- Truly, I just...

That's not mine.

You just said it was.

The truth.

For a change.

I'm not a count.

I'm Stan. Stanley Palazzo.

- What?!
- What are you saying?

What we've been trying to tell
you for the last five minutes!

This man is an impostor!

We opened our home to you!

- Our home!
- Dr. Newsome, please sit down.

I will not!

This is an outrage!
And... and an affront!

Oh, calm down, Newsome.
He'll get his comeuppance.

- Henry, I don't feel so good...
- He must hang!


- I think I should probably sit down...
- Ruth?! Ruth?

So, who are you really?

I told you. I'm Stan
Palazzo. I'm from Oshawa.

Oh, dear God! Oshawa!

- Could it be worse?!
- Mr. Newsome, please...

Dr. Newsome! And I will not be
silent for this... this... fabulist!

- Just let me explain.
- She's coming to!

- Are you all right, Fairy Face?
- Yes, I think so.

What is he still doing here?!

- You take him to jail!
- All right, enough!

Doctor, sit down!

- Count...
- Stanley.

Stanley, sit! Miss Newsome, breathe.


just what was your plan, exactly?

I didn't really have one.

I met Ruth on the train
and I saw and obvious mark.

What about your war medals?

Russian, from a pawnshop
in Ronkonkoma, New York.

And before I knew it, she
had invited me to stay here,

and Rupert had made me
a member of the team.

- I really didn't have to do much.
- We thought you were exiled royalty!

- Sit down, Newsome!
- Hmph!

But where did you learn
to play cricket like that?

- Prison.
- Ruth!

You gonzoogler!

I should run you through!

Oh, you were more than willing to
exploit me for my cricket skills.

- You're no victim.
- Gentlemen!

- Sit!
- And put the cutlery down!


Henry, is she all right?

I think so, sir, but how much
more betrayal can one woman take?!

So you were getting ready to run?

What choice did I have?
Someone's trying to kill me!

Been at this for some time, I take it?

The confidence game?

Yeah, long enough.

I imagine you've accumulated
quite a list of enemies.

I suppose.

How did you learn about
the Serbian monarchy?

I did some jobs with a Serbian grifter.

Clearly he couldn't get
the names right either.

Is it possible a member of the
Gentlemen's team recognized you?

Had you had any dealings
with them prior to this?

No. I wouldn't have
got involved if I had.

Mr. Palazzo...

who do you think planted the bomb?

I honestly have no idea.

A couple of days ago,

I got this in my stall.

- That's it?
- Yeah.

And for the life of me, I
can't figure out what it means.

Where were you in November of last year?

In the Kingston jail.

Detective, please.

You gotta help me.

Someone is out for revenge

and with nowhere to stay,

I'm a walking target.


May I have a moment, Detective?

Of course.

I have never been this
upset in my entire life.

Except, of course, when
you killed dear Roger.

Might I suggest taking an
inventory of your possessions?

- Some items may have been stolen.
- I'll have the servants look around.


would it be possible to keep this quiet?

I understand a crime has
been committed, but...

if you could see a way
to... to be discreet?

I promise to do what I can.

If any of our friends found out,

we would be laughed
straight out of Mimico.

Of course.

Thank you.

We will weather this storm.

The Newsomes are
nothing if not survivors.

Except, of course, dear Roger.

I have no doubt.

Miss Newsome.

Let's go, dear.

- Henry?
- Hmm?

Find out where the
Newsomes do their banking.

Speak with the manager.

It's possible Stanley gained
access to their accounts.


Come in.

I suppose the list
of suspects has grown,

- what with this Palazzo being the target.
- Not necessarily.

The only people who had access
were the Gentlemen themselves.

The motive may have changed, but
the possible perpetrators haven't.

We need to find out if Stanley
swindled any of them in the past.

That's the most likely motive.

Let's look into any connections.

- A group that thick, there must be something.
- Sir.

He's at a hotel with a
guard at the door. He's safe!

- The cad.
- What if...

what if the guard weren't there?

Well, then he would be in real danger.

Would that be so bad?

Flitter Mouth, you can't
actually wish him...

Can you?

Well, I admit, I have
been daydreaming about it.

Henry, our family has worked so hard

to build our standing
in the community! First,

the undercooked chicken
at the fundraiser...

- and now, this!
- Bonbons,

Detective Murdoch will assist
me in catching whoever did this.

I'll make sure he never shows
his face in Toronto again. Just...

please, don't kill him!

Oh, you always know just what to say!


Take Miss Newsome home.

I'll see you shortly, my wingless dove.

Having second thoughts?

Not that it would do me any
good at this point, but no,

not a one.

I've brought you something.

Oh! What is it?

Lavender oil. It's said to be soothing.



It's... it's lovely.

Perhaps a bit strong.

- What do I do with it?
- Well, I...

I thought you might know.

Perhaps it should be diluted.

Thank you.

Right. I'm gonna let you off this time,

but if it happens again,
I'm gonna tell your mother.

You keep an eye on him. Off you go.


We found a connection between the
count and one of the gentlemen.

- Which one?
- The lothario, Leonard Killjoy.

Apparently, Stanley
was involved in a scheme

to relieve Killjoy's wife of a tidy sum.

- Was he arrested for it?
- Not for that particular instance,

but he was for a similar
swindle. He confessed to both.

- So Mr. Killjoy knew the truth?
- Mm-hmm.

Higgins said that he broke
up the man's marriage.

- He's on his way in.
- Very good.

- Well, she was an idiot.
- Your wife?


They convinced her she was
investing in a property development

in the swamplands of Florida.

Well, that must have been upsetting.

I didn't marry her for
her brains, Detective.

We divorced shortly after.

But you never met the
man who swindled her?

No, but according to her,
he was "quite charming."

Yes. Mr. Killjoy, we
have reason to believe

Stanley Palazzo is the
man who swindled your wife.

- Who?
- Stanley Palazzo...

the fraudster who has been
posing as Count Petrovitch?

- Wait. Wait, so he's a...
- Confidence man.

Oh, unbelievable!

Oh, the Newsomes must be mortified!

- Mr. Killjoy...
- Oh! Oh. I must tell everyone at the club.

What did you say his name was?

- Palazzo.
- Oh!

And swindled by an
Italian to boot! Ha ha!

How marvelous! Oh, boy!

Higgins spoke to the
Newsomes' bank manager.

It seems that Stanley did
try to make a withdrawal

- from one of their accounts.
- I thought so.

- How much did he steal?
- Not a penny.

The bank manager became suspicious
and alerted Dr. Newsome personally.

The transaction was canceled
and no further action was taken.

- So Dr. Newsome knew about the attempt?
- It seems so.

And yet he did nothing...

- and made quite a show of being surprised.
- Hmm.

Sir, my shift is ending soon.

Do you think I might be
able to join the practice?

I don't know, Henry. This
definitely takes precedence.

This is Dr. Newsome's cabinet, sir.

Maybe it's a surgical tool?

What are you doing?!

Dr. Newsome.

We found these in your stall.

What are those?

Well, they appear to be the tool
used to hollow out a cricket bat

- and a bottle of nitroglycerine.
- Nonsense! Those aren't mine.

Dr. Newsome, you are under arrest
for the murder of Michael O'Donnell.

Are you joking?!

This is preposterous! Henry!

Are you going to let him
do this to me?! Henry!

I have no idea how
those got into my stall.

For all I know, you put them there.

Why did you not come to the police

when you learned Stanley
wasn't who he claimed to be?

Detective, please!

I've told you how long we've been
losing to those professionals.

I didn't care who he was!

We needed him to win!

I wasn't about to let
something as silly as money

get in the way of that.

So you abetted a charlatan in
order to win a cricket match?

Well... of course when you say
it like that, it sounds absurd,

but I was planning on
informing the police...

after we won the game.

How do you explain these?

I suppose...

I've been framed.

You have to believe me!

I'm a surgeon, not a murderer!

- You certainly had motive.
- What motive?

The attempted theft.

The shame it would have
brought to your family,

had the news gotten out.

He needed to be silenced.

Detective Murdoch,

I am a member of the Mimico Newsomes.

We do not murder people...

that I know of.

Does this mean anything to you?

Hmm... November 26th.

Ah, the birthday of Schmeltzer,

my favourite composer.

I'm sorry, Dr. Newsome,

but given the evidence, I have
no choice but to charge you.

- Put my bag in my stall, Brewster.
- Yes, sir.

I hope you waxed your bat, Higgins.

You don't have a hope in
hell without that ringer.

Get ready for a pummeling.
This one's for Michael.

I know we've been down
this road before with Roger,

but I'm still flummoxed

as to how dense the Newsomes can be.

It is difficult to fathom.

It can't be easy for Ruth, though,

now with both brothers gone.

At least she has Henry.

Here's to a job well done, Detective.

There is still the
matter of this note, sir.

Dr. Newsome claims to
not know what it is.

He also claims to be innocent.

Maybe it's just more sledging
from the professionals.

That's possible.

Maybe someone slipped
it to him as a prank.

Could even be some other
poor bugger that he swindled.

No doubt we'll be investigating
Stanley's murder in the near future,

but right now, it's got
nothing to do with this.

I suppose you're right.

I am right, Murdoch.

I'm always right.... until I'm wrong.

Rupert Newsome is our killer.


and I do not use that term lightly...

a few words, if I may.

Now, I know that many
of you must be thinking

that we are doomed to fail
without the count, or...

Stanley, or whoever that impostor was.

And it is true:

we have lost our captain
and our best player to...

Murder and lies?

Look at these men before you!

This team is more than
just an individual!

This team represents all that
is right and just in society!

When I joined,

I was a lowly commoner...

and you accepted me as one of your own,

and you welcomed me

into your world.

And now I am proud to
call myself one of you,

win or lose.

And win or lose,

we will play with
dignity and with honour!

What do you want?


Well, I'm sorry, sir.

We do not play with thieves and liars.

Are you ready to bowl?

Yes, sir!

Ha ha! Good to be back. He's back!

Come on boys, come on! Here we go!

That's it! That's it!

Good to have you back!


- Sir!
- What is it, Murdoch?

Have a look at this.

- What am I looking at?
- November 26th.

- And?
- Well, sir, do you think it's possible

that whoever wrote this
was referring to this event?

But it doesn't make sense.
Stanley isn't the count.

Yes, but no one knew that.

But you said someone from the
Gentlemen must have planted the bomb.

Now you're theory's what?
That some gypsy wanted revenge?

How many gypsies do you know that
are members of a posh cricket club?

- There must be a connection.
- It doesn't bloody exist, Murdoch.

We interviewed every player who
had access to that changing room.

We interviewed every player

but not every person.

Brewster! Take Miss Newsome home.

Henry's manservant.

I'd like a word with him.

That's it!

Sir! Sir, are you all right?

Someone hit me...

- like a train.
- Who did this to you?


You, there! Look after this man!

What are you doing?


- Don't come any closer.
- Brewster, what are you doing?

- I insist you unhand...
- Quiet, you blithering idiot!

My name is Baval. Did
you hear me, monster?

Baval Salazar!

I hear you and whatever I did,
I'm sorry! I can pay you back!

There's no paying back
what you took from me.

I was a child when you killed my parents

You and your army of murderers!

Mr. Salazar, listen to me.

- This man is not who you think he is!
- It's true! I'm not!

- Shut up!
- He's a fraud, an impostor, a petty thief!

- Hey!
- His name is Stanley Palazzo.

- He is not Dagon Petrovitch.
- It's true. Listen to his voice!

I only pretended to be the count

so that I could steal from the Newsomes!

- I'm not even Serbian!
- You're a pig!

- You'll say anything.
- No!

I've been dreaming about this for years!

- For all the pain...
- No!

I'm bleeding.

It's just a surface
wound. You'll be fine.

- Good work, Henry.
- Thank you, sir.

It's a good thing old
Ruth is as thick as she is.

And I just love both
my brothers so dearly!

Well, you can imagine my distress:

one barely in the grave and
then the other one in jail!

- Rupu!
- Ruthie-schmuthie!

I am so glad you're all right!

- Did Henry tell you how heroic he was?
- In some detail, yes.

You should be proud!

You should have seen it. He was
magnificent! Just like a lion with a bat!

Well, I suppose the
real work begins now:

trying to find a quality manservant.

- Dr. Newsome.
- Ah, Detective.

I hope there are no hard feelings.

Henry told me you worked
to prove my innocence.

For that, I am grateful.

Perhaps, one day...

I may even forgive you
for killing my brother.


I'll see you soon.

My hero.


Can you believe a family as fine as that

has taken me on as one of their own?

If it's a boy,

perhaps the inspector could
teach him to play cricket.

There's nothing that says
that girls can't play as well.

- True.
- Well, these are modern times, William.

I imagine we'll have to
start looking for a house.

- Something bigger.
- I'm perfectly happy in the hotel.

Yes, but something with
more room, perhaps a yard.

Well, I suppose I
could try to cook more.

But then again, parks
do offer plenty of space.

You said you liked
my stew and dumplings.


We should start interviewing au pairs.


That may be a bit prematured.

- I've begun a list of potential schools...
- Oh, I am sure you have.

And I'm sure you'll make many many more.

How are you feeling?

I've never been better.

Neither have I, Julia.