Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 11, Episode 9 - The Talking Dead - full transcript

After obituaries are published in advance of two men's deaths, Murdoch discovers more intended victims, including Detective Watts.

- More coffee, dear?
- Yes. Yes.

Fools don't know how to run a
foot race, let alone a country.


What's this, then?

What is it, dear?

Is this one of your
little practical jokes?

Well I'm not laughing, Dorothy.

I... I assure you, Harrison,
I know nothing of this.

Maybe it was Roger then.

Scoundrel's always coveted
my position at the bank.

- Perhaps it's just a mistake, dear.
- A mistake, my foot!

Where are you going?

Straight to the newspaper to
give them a piece of my mind.

All right, dear.



He had only just stepped
out the door when...

Where he was going?

- To the offices of the Toronto Gazette.
- For what purpose?

Harrison had meant to complain
to the paper about a...

a dreadful error they'd
made in the morning edition.


It's so cruel.

It makes no sense.

This is the paper he
was holding when he died?

What kind of a horrible
person would do such a thing?

- _
- His own obituary.

Not much mystery as
to the cause of death.

Certainly not.

It is unfortunate
timing for the poor man.

I suspect there's more at
play here than mere bad luck.

It's unlikely the planter
fell of its own accord.

And there's the curious
matter of this obituary...

The damndest thing!

A dead man whose obituary
was published before he died.

Yes. We were just discussing that.

More than passing strange.

- Definitely needs to be looked into.
- Indeed.

The obituary in effect predicted

the exact day the fellow would die.

Suggesting the writer played a part

in making the obituary come true.

My thoughts exactly.

His neighbours claim
he was a bad sort, so...

I pulled his crime sheet.

He had a criminal record?

For petty theft and
gambling offenses and such.

I understood him to be a bank manager.

His garb is certainly fitting
of a trussed-up man of money.

- That's not Gibson.
- Gibson? Who is Gibson?

There! That's Murray
Gibson's body coming in now.

He fell off his fire escape.

This man's name was
Harrison McCallister.

That's Gibson.

Both published hours
before their actual deaths,

and both dying of apparent accidents.

- What's the connection?
- I don't know.

They were both placed
in the early edition

of the Toronto Gazette.

I just love seeing you in your uniform.


Give us a moment, McNabb. A
bit early for you, isn't it?

Well, I wanted to tell you
as soon as I knew for certain.

Knew what?

Some of the girls have
got a show together,

and they've been offered a
spot at the Moulin Rouge...

in Paris.

Well, that's fantastic.

Travelling expands the mind, you know.

I'm one of the girls.

- Paris?
- Yes.

From what I hear Paris is a...

a veritable den of
thieves and cutthroats.

Which is why I would
like a Constable with me,

- to keep me safe.
- I don't know, Nina.

Newfoundland is the furthest
I've ever been from Canada.

I mean, I can't imagine what
a journey like that would cost.

Oh, don't worry about the
cost! I've got a double berth.

So you'll come?

Thank you.

The obituaries editor can't
confirm who posted the notices.

They were typewritten,

placed through the mail
slot with a cash payment.

Is that the usual way of these things?

He saw nothing amiss.


someone's come in to report an
obituary written about themselves.

Right. Bring him in, George.

It's not a him, sir, it...

Oh. Good morning, Sister.

Sister AnnaMaria. It's a
pleasure to meet you, Detective.

I understand you've found an obituary...

About myself.

And as you can well see, I'm
standing right here in front of you,

living and breathing and
still in my earthly vestments.

Someone has made a terrible mistake.

It may not be a mistake, exactly.

What do you mean?

This isn't the first such
obituary we've found today.

Sister, as a precaution,
I would ask that

you remain here at the
Station House for a time.

Certainly. I'll do whatever you say.

George, if you could
find Sister AnnaMaria

- a comfortable spot...
- Right away, sir.


A banker, a gambler, and a nun.

It sounds like the beginning
of an unfortunate joke.

Three fraudulent obituaries.

What if there are more?



Thank you very much.

- Here you go.
- Just over here.

Excuse me, sir.

Where to, Constable?

Actually, I was wondering
if you knew anything

about the gentleman mentioned
in this obituary. Joshua Martin.

Indeed I do.

He was my father. I
buried him this morning.

My condolences.

Thank you.

Don't be so stupid!

He died two days ago.

I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am.

Sir, are you Leonard Stoker?

- Yes. What of it?
- Good!

- So you're not dead, then.
- Is that some kind of threat?

No, no, no, no, no.
But I... I will need you

to come down to the Station House.

That must be for somebody else.

Is there more than one Leonard Stoker,

1901 heavyweight boxing
champion of Toronto?


Eddie Crawford.

- I... didn't do anything wrong.
- I didn't say you did.

Oh, well... So what's on your mind?

Saving your life.

- You're pulling my leg.
- I wish I were.

We need you to come down to
the Station House right away.

- Over a silly prank?
- Eddie, two of the pranks

on this page have just been killed.

Regardless of what we think of
you, we don't want you to be next.

Come on.

Well, if it isn't my old
friend Eddie Crawford.

You can wager I'm as glad
to see you as you are me.

True enough. Even so,

I'd rather see you alive than dead.

Well, that's very
kind of you, Inspector.

What's going on with these obituaries?

Some creative genius
is making every effort

to make his fictional writing come true.

You're one of the lucky
ones who's not dead yet.


Can I help you?

I went to make a
complaint at the newspaper

- and they sent me here.
- Oh dear. An obituary?

Yes, how did you know?

See? For Agnes Swift,

with all the correct details.

That makes six.

Six what?

Just a moment.

Oh. Mrs. Swift?

It's Miss.

Might we have a moment?

Hello there, young miss.

I find myself wondering what your
favourite school subjects might be.

Miss Swift. There are
others who have had

similar obituaries written about them.

Two died earlier this morning,

shortly after this paper was published,

most likely killed by whoever
wrote and posted these.

- Good Lord!
- Yes.

We were hoping that you would
remain here at the Station House

so that we may ensure your safety.

You don't understand.

I'm Virginia Swift.

The obituary wasn't written about me.

Agnes Swift is my daughter.

Could I trouble anyone for a cup of tea?

I did ask that Constable,

but he seems to have forgotten.

We can see to that.

Constable Brackenreid, tea
for Sister AnnaMaria, please?

Yes, sir.

We at Station House
Four greatly appreciate

your cooperation in this investigation.

How long is this gonna
take? I have a fight tonight.

And I will need to be
back for afternoon prayers.

We thank you for your patience.

And as long as you're here
with us, you'll be safe.

Meanwhile, we are working hard to
discover who is behind all of this.

Once we find and apprehend the culprit,

you'll all be free to
go about your business.

We are here voluntarily. Right, Tom?

As we said, for your safety.

I've thought about it, and
believe I can fend for myself.

Well no one intends to
get murdered, and yet...

We also hope that you could
provide us with information

that will help our
investigation, Mr. Crawford.

We need help from each one of you.

Firstly, with a list of people

you believe may hold
a grudge against you,

so that we could generate
a list of suspects.

Performing a service Eddie,

if you can get your tiny
little mind around that notion.


I have an urgent business
matter to attend to.

Not so fast, bugalugs.

The bookies can wait.

This is outrageous.

I am the victim here! You
can't keep me here like this.

If I put a wee bit of effort into it,

I just might find a warrant
for you that needs executing.

Now sit down!

Don't forget, you promised
we'd go to the fair today.

We'll go as soon as we finish
our business here, Agnes.

- But it's the...
- Just read your book.


Oof. Another poor sod.

Who is it this time? Butcher, baker,

- candlestick maker?
- Policeman.

Bloody hell.

- It's you, Watts.
- Hm.

Wait, what?

I've put my share of criminals away.

Some are out of and could
prefer me dead over alive.

- Oi!
- Hm?

Oh. Yeah.

Any one in particular
that might connect you

to one of the obituary subjects?

Besides meeting Mr. Crawford last week,

I've never seen any of
these people before today.

It may be helpful for you to
go through your past case files.

They're at Station
One. I'll go fetch them.

No, you won't. You're staying here.

We'll send a constable
to get your files.

I still have Gibson's
murder to investigate.

I need to re-examine the crime scene,

- track down his associates.
- Never mind all that.

Whoever wrote these
obituaries, that's your killer.

Inspector, I understand the threat

and assure you I can
take care of myself.

No one intends to get murdered...

and yet...


We have some questions for you all.


Firstly, it is vital that you tell us

of any previous encounters you
may have had with one another,

- even in passing.
- This is a waste of time.

I live a very simple life.

Sister, please think carefully.

Now, Constable Higgins has
photographs of the two deceased men.

One is a Murray Gibson,

who was known to have
run-ins with the law.

The other chap is a
Harrison McCallister,

who was the manager of the
Dominion Bank on Jarvis Street.

Do any of you know either
of these two gentlemen?

My church diocese, of which
I am the financial secretary,

holds its accounts at that bank.

Sir. That's my bank as well.

Anyone else have dealings with
the Dominion Bank on Jarvis Street?

Banks are for chumps.

That may not be the
connection we're looking for.

Now, we ask that you please
write down anyone you can think of

that may hold ill will toward you.


I'll be needing that back.

Also, if you could please
write down your current

and previous residence as
well as places of employment.

How much longer do we
have to stay here, Momma?

I don't know, Agnes.

Just do what you've been asked.

Write down the names of anyone you
can think of who's been mean to you.

Miss Swift, if I could have a word?

Of course.

It occurs to me that

you might know better than your
daughter who might wish to harm her.

Save for a little schoolyard teasing,

I can't think of a soul she's offended.

I raised her to be polite.

- You can see that for yourself.
- Indeed.

Often in these cases, we
discover the involvement

of another family member or loved one.

She has no family but myself, Detective.

Where is Agnes's father?

He's dead.

Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.

He was never much in the picture.

He used to make some
financial contribution.

It's been a struggle to stay out
of the poor house since he's died.

But we've managed.

I see.

I don't understand how anyone
could do this to a child.

It's possible they haven't.

Perhaps someone is making threats

against Agnes as a means to hurt you.

You think someone intends to kill me?

I don't know.

But if you wouldn't
mind, I would very much

like you to compile a list of your own.

Thank you very much. Thank you.


What's the point of these obituaries?

What sort of crackpot would warn
these unlucky buggers in advance

that they might be done in?

A vengeful killer might take pleasure
in his intended victims' fear.

There is a connection somewhere.

Unless he picked them at random.

It's possible, but not likely.

Sequential killers are generally
quite specifically motivated.

None of these names appear
on more than one list.

Then it must be secondary connection.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

Could I have a word, Inspector?

Of course.

What is it, Sister?

I saw

that Constable

coming out of your office
only a few moments ago,

and he was counting some money.

It made me fear the young
man might be a thief.

Oh, thank you Sister.

That's very kind of you to let me know.

That young man just happens to be my son

and he's about to head
off and buy his father

his weekly bottle of scotch.

I see.

That's fine, then.

Why don't you go back
and take your seat.

Constable Brackenreid.

When you go for my bottle,

see if you can get this lot
some sandwiches for their lunch.

Yes, sir.

Our Sister of perpetual-


She told us she has no enemies.

I very much doubt that.

I'll have George visit the convent.

If a nun has something to hide,

what might the others
be keeping from us?

You were trying to steal from me!

That's a lie!

Back away, Mr. Crawford.

What's going on here?

Agnes saw that thief
going through my handbag.

I didn't touch your fusty old bag.

I saw you.

I'd believe anything my girl tells me

before I'd give you the time of day.

Are any of the items missing?

No. We interrupted him in the act.

All right. Well, why
don't you come with me?

- But...
- Now, Mr. Crawford.

Oh! I see

Constable Brackenreid has
brought some refreshments.

It's about time. I'm starved.

Is there perhaps a little
bit of sugar to be had?

Yes, I can get you some, Sister.

Oh, I can see you're busy.

Please don't trouble yourself.
I'll take it as it is.

Please, help yourselves.

This is all you've got?

I'm a boxer.

I need meat and potatoes.

- What have you, George?
- Sir, I was rather surprised

by the reaction I got from
people when I asked them about

- Sister AnnaMaria.
- How so?

Well, more than a few
people have rather...

un-Christian feelings towards her, sir.

She's not well-liked?

No, in fact many people said

that she's not very nice
for an ordinary person,

let alone a nun.

And yet she couldn't think of a
single person who bears her ill will.

Let's have a chat with her, George.





It may have been poison.

How long ago?

I can't be sure, but I will endeavour
to determine that right away.

I'll have the remains of the meal
sent to the morgue for testing.

Very good.

You told us we would be safe here.

That nun was killed
right in front of us.

We don't know yet what caused her death.

- She may have had a heart...
- We know perfectly well!

She was murdered like the others.

We'll continue to do the best we can.

That's not been enough.

If you could please excuse us.

In my own bloody Station House!

How did this happen, Murdoch?

Dr. Ogden surmises it was poison.

Possibly administered prior to
the nun's arrival at the station.

George, what exactly did you
find out about Sister AnnaMaria?

Well, as I was saying earlier, sir,

the Sister proved to be
surprisingly unpopular

- amongst those who knew her.
- And why was that?

Well, it seems she liked
to get people into trouble.

Just recently at the convent,

there was another nun who
spoke during silent time.

Sister AnnaMaria reported
her to the Mother Superior.

There was a dog that
nipped at the gardener

and even though he
didn't seem to mind much,

she reported it to the
Animal Control Society,

insisting the dog be put down.

She even tried to snitch on my own son.

- A habitual tattletale.
- Exactly, sir.

She was known for getting
people fired: a bank clerk,

a grocery boy, her mailman.

But would that be
enough cause to kill her?

Depends on the tattle and the tale.

So what connects her
to the rest of them?

Well, sir, the convent is located
somewhat near where Mr. Gibson lived.

Then it's high time I revisit
his apartment, Inspector.

If there's one thing
the nun's death tells us,

it's that I'm no safer
here than anywhere.

- Take Crabtree with you.
- I don't need a minder.

- I was thinking more of a shield.
- Inspector!

- It's a bloody joke, Crabtree.
- Ha bloody ha.

I found a weighable quantity
of a crystal alkaloid

in the victim's stomach. We
determined it to be strychnine,

a total of three milligrams.

- Enough to kill a person?
- Quite rapidly.

Were any traces of
strychnine found in her lunch?

Well, I found no evidence
of foreign substances

beyond what appears to be
some bits of Prussian sausage.

We did find a suspicious
colouration in the dregs

of the Sister's teacup. We
were just about to test it.

Oh. By all means, carry on.

The alkaloid chromate that
I've made from the crystals

have been placed in
this porcelain plate.

Should I add the drop
of pure sulphuric acid?

Yes, very good, Miss Hart.

If this is strychnine, we
should see the substance

turn into a rich blue colour,

followed by purple and into cherry red.

Well, there you have it.

The victim's tea was
the source of the poison.

And if the strychnine hat
killed Sister AnnaMaria

was found in her tea...

then it had to have been put there

- by someone in this station.
- John?

Was anyone standing nearby
you when you made the tea?

No, no one was close to me.

I waited by the pot and,

once steeped and poured,

I put the cup on the desk
nearest to the Sister.

So any of our guests may
have had access to it.

- They'll have to be placed under closer watch.
- Indeed.

I've placed Constable on each of them.

- You'd better get back out there, son.
- Sir.

Which one of them did this, Murdoch?

Henry, where's Eddie Crawford?

He had to use the water closet.

Go look in on him. He's
not to be left unattended.


It has to be someone
in here, doesn't it?

Well, we don't know for certain,

- but we're taking every precaution.
- Sir!

- Eddie went out the window.
- Bloody hell, Higgins!

He's one of our suspects.
That makes him the primary one.

Get out there and find him.

- And bring him back immediately.
- Sir.


Not so fast, Eddie.

I'm not going back to that place.

I think you are.

Gibson's body was found at the bottom.

There's nowhere to hide out here.

Our killer would have ad to wait
inside until Gibson was distracted

perhaps lighting his cigarette

and then stepped out
to give him a good push.

- Simple but effective.
- Mm-hmm.


are you not concerned
that you yourself are...

- marked for death?
- I don't like it.

But the truth is death could
come to any one of us any day.

Still, no need to hurry it along.

Well, very little of
life is under our control.

Very little of death as well.

Watts, have you ever been to Paris?

Yes. The City of Light.

- I thought that was Buffalo.
- No, I believe Paris

came up with it first. Why do you ask?

Nina's involved with a show
that's performing there.

She wants me to go.

- Forever?
- No, no, just a short while.

Well, the world is only an
oyster if you choose to open it.


go to Paris today, for
tomorrow I might die?


What about you?

What would you do with your last day?

Just this.

- Talk to a friend.
- Who?

Oh, me!

And solve a crime.

- This is what we're looking for.
- Brilliant.

The City of Love with a beautiful woman.

You'd be a fool to say no.

I thought you said it
was the City of Light.

Light. Love. Are they
not one and the same?

I prefer to love with
the lights off, sir.

- Hm.
- I fear I'm bashful.

Issued by the Dominion
Bank on Jarvis Street.

That connects Murray Gibson

and Harrison McCallister,
the bank manager.

Exactly. In fact, it reminds me

of one of my old cases, a bank robbery.

A customer was killed
and the man I brought in

was hanged for the crime.

This robbery was at the
Dominion Bank on Jarvis?

Yes. We knew our suspect
pulled the trigger.

We also knew he had an
accomplice who was never found.

You believe that accomplice
to be Murray Gibson?

Perhaps. This is the file on that case.

The man I arrested was
named Joe Thackeray.

He had previously been a bank teller.

George, a word.


George, you said Sister
AnnaMaria got a bank clerk fired.

Do you recall which bank?

Yes, it was the one she mentioned.

The Dominion Bank on Jarvis.

It's my branch as well.

And the clerk?

I don't know, sir.

Could Joe Thackeray

be the clerk that was
fired from the bank

due to Sister AnnaMaria's complaint?

Interesting. If so, what
seemed like a tenuous connection

that the nun banked at the same bank

managed by Mr. McCallister...

might indeed be salient.

What if the man you arrested

was a disgruntled ex-bank employee

that was fired by McCallister due
to Sister AnnaMaria's complaint?

And a month later, robbed
a bank along with Gibson.

So we just need to find out...

if the others know this Joe Thackeray?

You know, I never really thought
very highly of you, Eddie,

but I didn't think you'd turn out
to be a bloody crackpot either.

I never killed anyone.

So why did you run?

It seemed better than being dead.

Or you were trying to escape
before we found proof it was you.

Do either of you recognize
the name Joe Thackeray?

Not me.

That name means something
to you, Mr. Crawford.

If you know something, you better
say it before you get us all killed.

Shut your trap, why don't you?

I don't know anyone named Thackeray.

You're a weasel, just like always.


So the two of you do know one another.

And you both lied about it.

He told me not to tell.

Said it could get us both
into even more trouble.

But I swear I don't
know what it has to do

with someone called Thackeray.

If you value your teeth,
Crawford, you better cough it up.

- I barely knew the man, all right?
- Answer him!

A man by that name came into the
shop with his rings and his watch.

I gave him some cash and
sent him on his way. See?

- We were hardly the best of pals.
- Right.

Enough playing silly buggers.

Oh. What have you got in here?

What are you planning
to do with a gun, Eddie?

Protect myself, if necessary.

You didn't lie about knowing Thackeray

because he pawned a few trinkets.

What are you hiding?

Tell the detective what
he wants to know, Eddie.

- You stay out of this, Lenny.
- You shifty little...

- Calm down, big fella.
- We fixed a fight! All right?

Mr. Crawford had you throw a fight?

- I didn't want to.
- You took the money, didn't you?

What does this have to
do with Joe Thackeray?

Thackeray was having money problems.

I suggested he bet on the fight.

I told him I had a fix in on it.

You told Thackeray to bet against Lenny?

Not really. I told him it was a
surefire thing that Lenny would win.

So you cheated a desperate man
out of his last few dollars.

I felt bad about it as well.

That's why I tried
to help him out after.

Oh yeah? What kind of help?

I set him up with a
man who had a job to do.

Murray Gibson?


I knew Gibson wanted to rob a bank

and was looking for
someone to do it with him.

And Joe Thackeray fit the bill.

Of course...

that didn't end too well for Joe.

So all roads lead to Joe Thackeray.

He appears to be our lynchpin.

Maybe, but he's not our killer,

given that he's been
dead for six months.

Each of our victims played a role

in Joe's fall from grace.

She complains,

McCallister fires him.

Crawford takes his money.

With help from Stoker.

Gibson joins him for the robbery.

Gibson gets away with the money.

And I arrest him.

Every person here represents
a rung in the ladder

of Joe's downward descent...

Taking him straight to the gallows.

Except for the little girl.

Where does Agnes Swift
fit in to all of this?

I know that man.

He's my father.

Joe Thackeray was Agnes's father?

As I already told you, we
had little to do with him.

He gave you money from time to time.

Well, he was a decent enough fellow

but we had nothing in common

and no desire to share a life together.

Still, he tried to
help out with Agnes...

But then the money stopped coming.

- That's right.
- And that placed you into hardship.

Very much so.

Is that some kind of crime?

We asked if you knew anything
about the Dominion Bank.

- You lied to us.
- No, I just wasn't thinking about Joe.

You're the only person with a connection

to each of the obituary subjects.

But I knew nothing of any
of these people before today.

Every one of these people played a part

- in ending Joe Thackeray's life.
- And who was most harmed by that downfall?

You, the mother of his child.

You even included your own
daughter on the obituary list

to get you into the
station, giving you access

to the others you hadn't yet killed.

That's absurd.

Let's see what we've got in here.

I'd wager...

that this is the poison
that killed Sister AnnaMaria.

I don't know what that is.

That damned pawnbroker was
caught red handed at my handbag.

It was him. It must be!

Momma, can we go?

We have to get to the
fair before it closes.

What are you doing?

Miss Swift, please
don't! Put the gun down.

- Momma, don't.
- Come with me, Agnes.

Please stop! You're hurting me.

Agnes. Get over here.

- Agnes! Right now!
- Give me that!

Virginia Swift, you are under arrest

for the murders of Harrison McCallister,

Murray Gibson and Sister AnnaMaria.

- Come with me, young lady.
- No!

The people at the
orphanage can come for Agnes

in a couple of hours.

I've had Crabtree tell Lenny
and Eddie they're free to leave.

Is there not a relative
who can take her?

Miss Swift told us
there is no other family.

The girl is now an orphan,

and I'm the one who arrested her father.

Thackeray made the decision
to walk into that bank

and use his weapon, not you.

He took his own chances
when he threw his lot in

with the likes of Gibson.

And he suffered the consequences.

Now, so will the child.

Before the orphanage takes her,

perhaps she and I could go to the fair.

She seemed so set on it.

It might be a way to distract
her from all that's happened.

No one here holds you
responsible, Detective.


I know how she must be feeling.

Hello young Miss.


I heard you mention the
fair a number of times today.

It's at the park. It's the last day.

Well, perhaps would
you like it if we went?

We can go?

Would you take me?

I don't see why not.

Older children are far
less likely to be adopted,

or to adjust well to a new family.

William, if we're
successful in our endeavors,

we must be sure to
choose good godparents.

Do you have someone in mind?

Detective! Doctor!

I went into the inspector's office

to retrieve the vial from
Virginia Swift's handbag.

Yes, that should go along to the morgue.

Oh, yes, I can take that now.

That's just the thing.

The entire contents of
the bag was dumped out.

The vial of poison is gone.

Who else had opportunity to take it?

Mr. Crawford?

- Mr. Stoker?
- Either one, I suppose.

But that doesn't make any sense.

Neither have reason to kill.

Could you have been
mistaken about Miss Swift?

I don't know...

Momma, can we go?

We have to get to the fair
at the park before it closes.

She knew it was her daughter.


Virginia Swift

wasn't trying to take
her daughter hostage.

She was protecting her.

- You don't mean...
- The girl wrote the obituaries.

Agnes is the murderer.

She's got the poison.

And she's at the fair
right now with the man

who arrested her father.

Thank you for taking me, Mr. Watts.

It's the least I could do.

You're going to make
a very bad day better.

I'm going to say... 55 pounds.

All right, then.


- How can he do that?
- Well, he's an expert.

- There you go.
- Thank you.


Momma always says I'm
just skin and bone.


Do you know what's going
to happen to my mother?

It will depend on the court findings.

But what she's done is very serious.

Will she be hanged, like my papa?

I don't know.

Did you know your father well?

He wrote letters from his jail cell.

Lots of letters.

He said he loved me very much.

It must be comforting
for you to know that.

It is.

He told me all the things
that happened to him.

He said he was just a man trying
to do his best for his daughter.

He said how scared he was,

knowing he was going to be hanged.

He asked me to pray for him and
think of him waiting in his cell.

And even after he was gone. So I do.

I think of him every single day.

Have you ever tried one of those?

Can we?

We must.

Two please.

- There we are. That's for you.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You first.

Watts! Watts!


I've had enough company in my station

to last a lifetime, Crabtree. Out.

What's gonna happen to the girl, sir?

We don't hang children.
We send them to an asylum,

where most of them belong anyway.

I see.

Well, get to it and don't
beat around the bush.

Sir, I'll get straight to the point.

How many years have I been working here?

More than I care to remember.

Well it has been a good many
years. And in all that time,

what is the one thing
I've never asked for?

One thing that any a
man, any good employee,

- certainly deserves?
- You're not getting a bloody raise.

That's not what I was gonna ask, sir.

- Although now that you mention it...
- To the point.

Sir, I would like some time off

to visit Paris

with Miss Bloom.

Oh, you lucky sod.

- Sir?
- You should go even if I say no.

Sir, I didn't think you
thought much of the French.

I don't...

but that city has certainly
treated me well in the past.

There was this one
particular young woman...


Her name meant heaven.

Oh, and by God, Crabtree,

she took me to heaven and
back on numerous occasions.

And she wasn't the only one
I made good acquaintance with.

The Frenchmen I couldn't
give a toss about,

but the women... ooh, la la.

Sir, I would be travelling with a woman.

The city will transform
her into a tiger.

- Really?
- Go and get on that boat, Crabtree.

I'm sure Station House Number 4
will persevere in your absence.

Well, thank you sir.

Dans mon coeur toujours, Celine.

And to you.