Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 2, Episode 2 - Snakes and Ladders - full transcript

When Alberta Moffat is found gutted, Murdoch begins to wonder what they have on their hands. They are told by a Scotland Yard detective, Edward Scanlan, that he has been pursuing a suspect, Harlen Orgill, across the Empire. He also suggests that the man may be Jack the Ripper. Moffat worked as a laundress and her mother does not accept the suggestion that she was a streetwalker as well. They soon find a second victim, Gloria Abercrombie, who had recently moved to Toronto. She had no police record and was on her way home after working late at night as a seamstress. Murdoch consults Dr. Roberts in the hope of getting him to prepare a psychological profile of the killer. Using a new invention, an ultra violent light, he finds where the murders took place. He also discovers one thing that both victims had in common. Meanwhile, Dr. Ogden accepts William's invitation to the Dinosaur Ball but there's only one problem: he can't dance.

Murdoch, what the bloody
hell are you doing?

Ah. I'm working on...

An idea that's been floating
around the skull of yours...

Yes, I know.

Actually, it's something
I've been thinking about

ever since the rowing
club murders. It's a...

well, essentially, it's
a new source of light.

And the old source of light
we had wasn't good enough?

Allow me to demonstrate.

Please switch off the lamp.

Right. Now, I turn on the light source.



Look at my fingernails.

They're glowing.

That's because light rays
from beyond the visible

- spectrum are striking...
- I'm sure they are.

Look. It's plain to see
that you could use some

distraction in your life. Here.

What are these?

Two tickets for a gala
ball that some dinosaur

expert's putting on next week.

- Professor Blake's exhibit.
- That's the chap.

Sir, this is one of
"the" events of the year.

Surely you'll want to be
taking Mrs. Brackenreid.

Yes, well, the missus
and I are not completely

seeing eye-to-eye on
certain matters these days.

We won't be dancing anytime soon.

Ah well then, you'll just have
to give them to someone else.

I thought it was baptists
that didn't dance,

not papists.

Funny story about that, actually...

Uh, excuse me, Sir, but you're needed.

Inspector, Detective!

What's going on here, Crabtree?

A young lad on his way
fishing discovered it.

Or discovered her, I should say.

- She's quite the sight to behold.
- Sight? What do you mean by that?

Take a look for yourself, Sir.

Bloody hell, she's been gutted.

Her name is Alberta Moffat.

What do we know about her?

Very little so far, Sir.

A previous arrest for prostitution.

There's something else you
should see. Just over here.

"Try to stop me."

Lunatic's taunting us.

So it would seem.

Oye! Oye! Oye! Hey! Where
do you think you're going?

I told you, I need to speak
to your superior urgently...

Now, bloody well let go of me!

No, no, you'll be cooling
your heels in the clink...

I don't have time for
this nonsense, Constable!


What's going on?

You in charge?

Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

Toronto police department.

- And just who might you be?
- Detective Edward Scanlon,

Scotland Yard.

I know who it is you're looking for.

- You know who committed this murder?
- Yes, I do.

And unless we catch him
he'll kill again and again.

His name is Harlan Orgill

and don't let the looks
deceive you. He's a maniac.

And you've been pursuing
Mr. Orgill for how long?

Fourteen months, three
weeks, and four days.


Yes. He was a suspect in a murder
I was investigating in London.

He fled to Cairo, and I followed his trail

- to Bombay and then to Auckland.
- Travelling the empire.

Yes, and in every city, he murdered,
no slaughtered, eight women.

- Always eight?
- Always.

And every time he slipped
through my fingers.

What makes you think
this Mr. Orgill is here?

I found his rooming house in Auckland.

Too late, but he'd left this behind.

"Canadian women's council
celebrates anniversary."

He hates women. He's
killed twenty-four of them.

Twenty-five now.

With presumably seven more
to be killed in this city.

If he's here at all.

This is just a scrap of paper.

A man matching Orgill's description took

the steamer from Auckland to Vancouver.

That was almost four months ago.

Two months at sea, give or take.

Then he arrives at Vancouver,
spends a week there.

Takes the train here to Toronto,

then has a month to prepare
for his first murder.


Now... I don't know for a
fact that he took that train.

But I do know what he does to his victims,

and I can assure you he is here.

Tell me... Inspector.

Did that girl's body
remind you of something?

Whitechapel, perhaps?


As in East End... Whitechapel?

Well, you must admit,
there are similarities.

The wounds, the prostitute victims.

Sir, are you saying this
Orgill might be Jack the Ripper?

Well, the Ripper was never caught.

Mr. Scanlon...

if you could just give Detective
Murdoch and myself a minute...

Yes, of course.

Thank you.

I was still with the
regiment garrisoned near

Whitechapel when I watched half the
bloody force work on the Ripper case.

Hundreds, maybe a thousand
coppers. And he beat them all.

Sir, the Ripper killings
were seven years ago.

- The odds of this being the same man...
- You weren't there, Murdoch.

What he did to those women...

He made a laughing stock out of the finest

police force in the world.

I don't want that
happening here. Understood?

Of course.

You call yourself policemen!
It's a... disgrace!

Mr. Scanlon, please!

There was no harm intended.
The lads are just passing...

It's a travesty is what it
is! A dereliction of duty.

Hey! What's going on?

Sir, we were just having
a game of checkers...

Two of your constables
sitting around playing

schoolboy games whilst a
killer walks the streets.

Detective Scanlon has a point, gentlemen.

- But Inspector...
- No buts!

Make yourself useful.

Detective Scanlon... if
you would be so kind as to

assist Detective Murdoch,
we have a murderer to catch.

Of course.

Carry on, Detective.

Right then.

This is who we are
looking for. Harlan Orgill.

Recently arrived to
Toronto by train sometime

in the last month, so
make union station your

starting point and work your way out.

Check hotels, rooming houses,

anywhere he might be staying.

He may need money, so he
may be recently employed.

Anything out of the usual is to be noted.

- Understood?
- Sir.

Thank you.

Detective... I believe post
mortem results await us.

Very good.

So, the carotid artery on the left side

and the other vessels contained
in the sheath were all cut through,

save the posterior portion of
the carotid, to a line about

one-twelfth of an inch in extent, which

prevented the separation of the
upper and lower portion of the artery.

I can go on like this for quite some time.

Any idea of the weapon used?

Yes, a short knife. Possibly something like

a shoe-maker's. Well-ground, very sharp.

And the shoulders... the
collarbone? Were they bruised?

Bluish discolouration indicates

- the victim was...
- And the wounds were left to right?


His technique.

Always the same. Grabs
them by the shoulders,

holds them down, and cuts them.

That's a plausible scenario.


I'm telling you, that's
bloody well what happened.

From Whitechapel to here.
Exactly as the Ripper did them.

There are similarities. Striking
ones, I'll admit. But I... I... I...

What more do you need to know?

It's not that I'm disagreeing
with you, Detective,

but these wounds could have
been inflicted by anyone...

with rudimentary knowledge of butchery.

I'm telling you... this is our killer!

Detective Scanlon...

A murderer kills unabated... and at
every turn I have met with indifference.

Wha... what in the world?

Mr. Scanlon, your behaviour
is quite unacceptable.

I will no longer stand by
as you irrationally berate

Dr. Ogden or my fellow officers.

I believe an apology is in order.

Yes. Yes, you're quite right.

I don't know what came over me.

Please accept my apologies, Doctor.

Of course.

Now, while my men search for the killer,

might I suggest we
follow up with the victim?

I took the first train I could.

There wasn't any train in Grafton;
I had to go all the way to Cobourg.

We appreciate the haste, Mrs. Moffat.

They would only let me see her face.

What did he do to her?

Perhaps it would be best if we
discussed that at a different time.

I see.

Do you have any idea what your
daughter was doing last night?

She worked at St. Michael's
hospital, in the laundry.

Twelve hour shift.

She would have finished
work and been going home.

And where was home?

It was a... a boarding
house on Shuter Street.

We suspect that she may have
been doing something else.

Oh well, Alberta worked very
late. She would have been tired.

Mrs. Moffat.

Did you know your
daughter was a prostitute?

My daughter was no such thing.

I see.

Is that how you think
she met this... animal?

It's a theory.

Malcolm, her father.

He had consumption.

And... I couldn't put food on the table.

And Alberta would help me
out, if you know what I mean.

I do.

But those days were behind her.

I am sure of it.

Weren't they?

I have met twenty-four
mothers like her. Twenty-four.

So I hope you see why sometimes
I grow a little impatient.

I do.

So Miss Moffat is working
her shift at the hospital.

After work... having
trouble making ends meet,

she reverts back to her old ways?

But unfortunately, her
customer is Harlan Orgill.

Hm. We'll have to ascertain Miss
Moffat's movements after work.

- I'll get the men on it straight away.
- Detective,

might we make a stop on the way back?

Of course. Is there something you require?

Yes, a... a peace offering.

- Any progress, George?
- Nothing so far, I'm afraid, Sir.

There's something else I'll need you to do.

I'll need you to look into
our victim's final hours,

- starting at St. Michael's hospital.
- Right away, Sir.

Hard at it, are we, lads?

Yes, Sir.

Look... uh, about earlier.

I'd like to make amends.

That's not necessary, Sir.
Your point was well taken.

No, please, I insist.

Snakes and ladders, Sir?

To replace your checkers board.

I've played it incessantly whilst
I've been following Mr. Orgill.

Allow me to show you how it's played.

The objective of the game is to get to the

end square using various rolls of the dice.

However, should you land on a ladder

you ascend via a short cut.

But land on a snake and you descend.

It's really quite addictive.

Well, thank you, Sir.

And when we have more time...
we'll... we'll give it a try.

Well done, Sir.

So, what's our next move?

Well, I suggest there's
nothing more we can do this day,

we should get some rest.
You're probably exhausted.

Yes, I am.

- Well, good night.
- Right.

Oh, Detective Scanlon.

We will catch this man.

Of course we will.

You must be Mr. Murdoch.

- That's correct.
- Welcome.

I am Professor Otranto, and
I will make you a dancer.

Uh, good. Good.

That is what you want, is it not?

Uh yes, I had hoped to
improve my technique.

Very well. But first we must
evaluate your abilities, yes.



Assume the position, Sir.

What position would that be?

Mm, now dance.

Oh, there's much work to be done here.

Have we another, George?

It would seem so, Sir.

Has Detective Scanlon been informed?

Actually, he's here.

He was at the station when word came in.

We weren't much help to her, were we?


He left another message.



- Sirs.
- Yes.

We canvassed the area for witnesses.

One woman who was up nursing her child

saw a carriage wheel
past late in the night.

That doesn't seem unusual.

Oh well, we were asked to keep a mind
for something out of the ordinary, Sir,

and this carriage happened
to match the description

of one reported stolen the
day of the first murder.

Hm, far too much of a
coincidence to be ignored.


Very good work, Constable.

Thank you, Sir.

What's the girl's name?

- Gloria Abercrombie.
- How old?

Nineteen. Recently moved here from Orilia.

And she ends up getting
slaughtered like the other.

The wounds were similar, however
the circumstances were different.

There is no indication this
Ambercrombie was a prostitute.

No? So what's a good girl doing
walking out by herself late at night?

She worked for a seamstress.
They were working late on a dress.

According to the seamstress, Miss
Abercrombie was on her way home.

She was staying at the YWCA.

All right. So she gets off work late.

There's no trams running.
She starts to walk home.

Orgill is on the prowl in the
stolen carriage. He spots the victim.

This is where I begin to have difficulty.

Why choose Miss Abercrombie
if she wasn't a prostitute?

Mistaken identity in poor light?

Well, even so... why would she get into
a carriage with a complete stranger?

Maybe he enticed her.

More likely... she was
forced into the carriage.

Yet no one heard or saw a thing.

Well, The Ripper managed
to vivisect five women

in the heart of London and
no one saw or heard him.

Regardless, we do have a concrete clue.

I suggest we divide your expertise.

Detective Scanlon you
work with the constables.

Find out whoever stole that carriage.

Murdoch... follow up on the victim.

- She was a seamtress.
- Yes, the puncture marks.

She was a hard worker.

Any indication she might
have also been a prostitute?

No. Her hymen was intact.

Oh. I see.

You seem troubled, William.

This is a dreadful case.

Yes, quite.

There are a number of details that
are troubling me about this case.

Such as?

With the nature of this wound, Doctor,

would the killer not have
been convered in blood?

Not necessarily.

The commencement of the
wound and injury would

have been away from him, and
therefore the stream of blood

and it would have been a stream
would also have been away from him.

Which is another matter.

There was no blood to speak of
where either victim was found.

Suggesting they were killed
elsewhere and then moved.

I wish I could better understand
the mind that did this.

A... a colleague
mentioned a young alienist,

a... a Doctor Roberts, who
was recently removed from

his position at the
provincial lunatic asylum.


Yes, apparently his
research on the workings

of the criminal mind
ruffled too many feathers.

However, he's supposed to
be quite forward-thinking.

Perhaps he could be of assistance.

Any idea where I might
find this Dr. Roberts?

My understanding is he's practicing
at a private hospital in Etobicoke.

Ah, thank you.

My pleasure.


I've recently obtained tickets
to the upcoming dinosaur ball.

And I wondered if you
might be interested in


Yes, of course.

That would be most delightful.

Very good.

Hydrotherapy, most impressive.
Now, Doctor I'm here because

I want you to help me
understand what's going on

inside of the killer's mind.

Well, that's rather a tall order.

To what end?

I wish to create a
"portrait" of the killer.

By understanding what motivates him,

I hope to find the means to stop him.

The concept is intriguing.

I will see that all of
the information we have

on the killer is delivered right to you.

Very well. I will turn my
attention to it immediately.

- Excellent.
- Uh, Detective.

I am considered somewhat of a, uh,

a pariah because of my methods.

Precisely why I think
you can help me, Doctor.

Oh, for the love of...

Nothing better to do, George?

Oh n... n... no, Sir, we
were just waiting for you.

Fascinating game, eh?

A morality play.

Ladders reward good deeds.

- Snakes punish bad ones.
- I don't like it, Sir.

All your progress stolen away
by these slithery little...

This one is clearly staring at me.

- George. Anything to report?
- Yes. We found the stolen carriage.

And it hasn't been touched?

No, Sir. We knew you'd want to
inspect the carriage yourself.

Your constables were adamant
that I should wait for you

before inspecting the carriage.

- They're a clever bunch.
- Yes. Yes, they are.

Unfortunately, so too is Mr. Orgill.

He's left it spotless.

Or so it would seem.

Haul it in.

George, can you get the daylight-ina-box?

- Sir.
- Thank you.

I'm still unclear as to what
it is you hope to achieve.

We recently had a case where a fluorescing

substance provided a critical clue.

Now all kinds of things... body fluids,

fibres... fluoresce when
exposed to ultraviolet light.

- Thank you, George.
- Ultraviolet?

Yes. It's light outside
of the visible spectrum.

There have been recent
developments photographing

it using special filters.

Which got me thinking, if
I put one of those filters

on a light, could I then
generate ultraviolet light?

- And if so...
- What clues might be revealed?

Precisely. So I contacted a young Mr. Woods

at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology who helped me with this.

Thank you, George.

Now, let's see what's really here.

Sir, what are those dark areas?

One of the things that
doesn't fluoresce is blood.

My God.

Gentlemen, we now know
where the murders took place.

We now know conclusively that whoever
stole that carriage is our killer.

Alberta Moffat finishes
her shift at the hospital,

makes her way home to her
boarding house on Shuter Street.

Gloria Abercrombie finishes
at the seamstresses'.

And makes her way to
her lodgings at the YWCA.

Look, forget the maps.

What I want to know is why
two young women would let

themselves get talked into a
carriage by a complete stranger

who then murders them?

We have a good reason for Miss
Moffat, but not for Miss Abercrombie.

Inspector, do you remember back
in Whitechapel, there was talk.

- There was lots of talk.
- Yeah, I mean that the Ripper was someone

respected, someone that a girl could trust.


- Gull?
- The royal surgeon.

Rumour had it that he might
have been cleaning up after eddy.

Prince Albert.

Frequented the doxies and
there was told that there

were a few heirs to the
throne with less than

royal bloodlines.

- Are you saying this Gull could have...
- Not Gull.

The old codger died
from a stroke years ago.

But someone like a doctor.
They suspected a Canadian too.

Dr. Thomas Cream. But he was executed.

Yes... yes, yes. The point
is that the victims got into

the carriage of a respectable-looking man.

My question is why these two women.

There could be a thousand reasons.

The most likely one is that
he just stumbled upon them.

I still think our best bet is
finding whoever stole that carriage.

- Agreed.
- Very good. I have an appointment.

I went through the files your
Detective Scanlon had amassed.

They were quite substantial.

Yes, he's obsessed with the case.

Well, they've been of enormous help.

I think I've been able to grasp
something of the killer and his victims.


Obviously, the killer has
a deep anger towards women.

So deep and powerful, that
he's compelled to kill them.

He must keep his anger well-hidden.

By wearing a mask.

- A mask?
- A figurative one.

A mask of sanity.

Are you familiar with Philippe Pinel?

The French alienist.

That's him.

He uses the term "manie sans d?lire"

to describe disturbed individuals who show
no visible sign of any mental disorder.

- Like Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde.
- Exactly.

The condition would have
started in childhood.

Most likely something quite traumatic

caused the killer to
create a secondary world.

A fantasy world?

One where the child could remain safely.

In doing so, he also created a world
for Mr. Hyde to eventually inhabit.

But how does one go from
childhood innocence to murderer?

I suspect when the killer
reached sexual maturity,

he had difficulty with women.

Possibly, he may be impotent.

Regardless, inside him,
anger grew towards them,

eventually becoming murderous rage.

Why kill these specific women?

Well, looking back over the
case, there seems to be one loose,

but common thread, all the women worked.

Is that a reason to kill?

For a man already threatened by them, yes.

By killing them, he
bolsters his own esteem.

And the more powerful the woman,

the greater the effect.

Why kill Miss Moffat?

She was a prostitute.
Hardly a powerful woman.

I'm afraid that's one of a
number of things I can't answer.

I have no idea why he strikes eight times.

But the number is clearly
of significance to him.

I've been thinking about the
message he leaves at the scene.

- "Try to stop me."
- Yes.

Could it be a plea for
help, rather than a taunt?

Something from the Dr.
Jekyll side of his mind.

Wanting the Mr. Hyde side of him stopped.

It's very possible.

Well, that's my report, such as it is.

I wish I could have been of more help.

On the contrary, it
could prove quite useful.

What use is this supposed to be?

- It's a description of what...
- might motivate the killer.

Well, that's bloody obvious.
But how does it help us?

Sir, I understand it's not a tangible clue.

- However...
- That's an understatement.

Inspector, if I might...
I'm not much for these

modern techniques either,
but for the first time

I feel as if I can
really understand Orgill.

Seems to me like we're
just clutching at straws.

We are. But we now know more about

the sort of man that we're looking for.

Angry, sexually deviant.

Point taken.

All right, Murdoch. Get
the men to round up suspects

- who fit this portrait.
- Yes, Sir.

Mr. Scanlon, fancy a drink?

Yes, I think I could
do with one, thank you.

I thought you might.

- Murdoch, I don't suppose...
- I'm afraid I'm already late

for a previous engagement.

I figured as much.

Ah, Detective!

Sorry I'm late, Professor.

No time for excuses, good Sir.

There is one partner left.

A new student.




Ah, you know one another.

Very good.

But now, to business.

So where are you from?

Seven Oaks.

- Cheers.
- You?


Do you miss the old country?

Certain days.

My parents. My brother.

What about yourself?

I have a sister.

We never knew our mother.

What about your father?

He was never the same after Crimea.

Took his own life.

Bloody, savage war.

Yes, it was.

And you served as well?


That was a mistake.

Most of my regiment were wiped out.

Sorry to hear that.

Yeah, I had my fill of war.

Went to the Yard after I got
back. Wasn't much better there.


Whitechapel, The Ripper.

Made me sick to my stomach.

It was quite a gruesome sight.

No, I mean the... the poverty, the dirt,

the brutality.

What sort of world is it
where children go hungry

and are beaten whilst we build an empire?

I suppose we're just trying
to do the best we can.

You know, Orgill.

There'll be more like him.

Killers who kill for no reason.

I hope you're mistaken, Edward.

No, they're coming.

We make them.

That's why men like you and I
are here, to try and stop them.

Well, it shouldn't be this way.

No, it shouldn't, but it is.

Rule, Britannia.

God save the Queen.


- Yes?
- Perhaps I could lead.

Oh? I'm so sorry.

It's a good thing we
both decided to brush up.

Yes, well... I had hoped to impress you,

not cripple you.

Doctor, may I ask you a question?


May we discuss the case as we dance?

I... I thought you'd never ask.

Good, because there is
an aspect that puzzles me.

How does the killer choose his victims?

All right, well, he arrives in
the city and he needs to kill.

He wants to find women who are working.

Yes, but choosing them
randomly would be too risky.

So where does he look?

Perhaps he watches their employer.

They both worked for different companies,

but I suppose it's possible.

Perhaps he selects them from
a certain geographical area.

One lived in Cabbagetown.

The other closer to The Annex.

He must have known
something about his victims.

Some... some common link.

But what?

Ladies and... gentlemen.

A military two-step.

Watch your toes, Detective.

Ah, Murdoch. While you've
been fannying around,

there's been a development.

Fannying, Sir?

He goes by the name Morris Bailey.

He was caught spying on a
girl in Winchester last night.

Turns out the room he
was boarding in was filled

with women's underwear.

And how do we know he's our man?

He also works in the Slaughter Yard,

so he knows his way around a knife.

He's British and he arrived from Vancouver

three weeks ago.

I'd say he's an excellent suspect.

Let us see.

Be my guest.

Mr. Bailey.

My name is Detective William Murdoch.

Look, that woman left her window wide open.

Fairly asking for any man to look at her.

I see.

I understand you recently
arrived to the city.

Where from?

What has that got to do with anything?

Please, just answer the question.


What were you doing there?

I was visiting my brother.

And before that?

San Francisco. Look, why
are you asking me that?

What has that got to do with
me looking through no window?

Are you currently employed at the
Frederick street Slaughter Yard?

Yeah. I'm a watchman there.

Do you recognize this carriage?


It was stolen from a residence three blocks

away from the Slaughter Yards.

No. I had nothing to do with that.

Do you recognize this woman?


This woman?

Say... wait a minute.

Yeah yeah yeah, these are
the two women that I saw

their pictures on the front of the paper.

These are the two women that were murdered.

No, no, no... you got it all wrong.

I had nothing to do with them.

Mister Bailey, where
were you three nights ago?

I don't remember.

Sometimes, I have a few too many.

And the night before last? Did
you also then have a few too many?

I would never do anything to hurt a woman.


Why should I believe you?

Because I don't harm them.
I just like to look at them.

You do believe me, don't you?

- That remains to be seen.
- Wait wait wait, look!

You won't tell my mother, will you?

Because honestly it
would be the death of her.

You must promise me that.

There will be no promises at this time.


We'll let him stew for awhile.
Then I'll take a crack at him.

Something wrong, Detective?

I suppose I thought he'd be less banal.


For what it's worth, I
don't think he's our killer.

What do you mean, he's not our killer?

He didn't have the motivation.


Motivation? The man's sick.

He plays with himself while
he watches women undress.

Then he steals their soiled undergarments.

He only likes to watch.

- Trivialities.
- Sir,

He worked at the Slaughter
Yards as a watchman.

There's no reason to believe he knows

how to use a knife in that way.

Look, Murdoch, he fits your
alienist's bloody profile.

- Portrait.
- Portrait, profile...

Wh... what difference does it make?

I'm telling you he's our man.

Sir, may I suggest that we...


Sir, there's a... there's
a problem with the prisoner.

You'll be letting me go
or your boy here gets it.

It's no use, Mr. Bailey.

I am not hanging over those whores!

You'll not get out of here alive, Orgill.

My name is Bailey.

And if I'm not getting out of here alive...

then neither is this one.

Detective Scanlon.

I know we got off to
a bit of a rough start,

but uh... I just want to say
it's been a pleasure, Sir.

The same, Constable.

And should you find yourself in London

someday, there will be
a drink waiting for you.

Well, then I plan to find
myself in London some day, Sir.





Uh, that's cheating, Detective.

This game confounds me.

As does this case.

You insist on remaining skeptical.

May I join you?

I have trouble with the unresolved.

So do I. I'd rather have seen Orgill have

his day in court, then watched him hang.

These are the suspect's clothing.

Don't have a trace of blood on them,

even under ultraviolet light.

He could simply have
disposed of his clothing.


But then there's Dr. Robert's
portrait of the killer.

Hardly the meticulous
planner I would have expected.

And then there's the method
of sexual gratification.

True, he was an observer and an onanist,

but that doesn't rule him out
from being a murderer also.

So you truly suspect the
killer remains at large?

I do.

And I believe the secret
to catching him is finding

the connection between the two victims.

A connection in no way
precludes mister Orgill

and mister Bailey being one and the same.

You must admit that is
a very real possibility.

Well, I'll concede that.

Regardless of what you or I might think,

Scotland Yard considers the case closed.

Well, I really must be off,
but just one last throw.

One. Two. Three.

Curse my luck, Detective.

Oh, there is one other
thing that occurs to me.

If there is a connection,

might it have something to do
with the fact that neither woman

was from Toronto?

You have a point.

I shall follow up, Detective.

Goodbye, Detective Murdoch.

Goodbye, Detective Scanlon.



Has Mrs. Moffat returned home yet?

Uh no, I believe she's still
staying with the sister.

Mrs. Moffat.

You said Alberta recently
moved to the city?


Where did she first find employment?

At the hospital straight away.

Alberta always wanted to help the poor,

so that's why she chose St. Michael's.

On account of the sister' work.

I see. So she came to the city

to start work at St. Michael's.

And she moved into a boarding house.

- Oh no.
- She didn't?

Alberta had gumption.

She just thought she'd find some place.

So where did she live then?

Well, there's only one place
that'll help a young lady out

when she's first getting
started, isn't there?

Dr. Ogden.

Detective Scanlon, how can I help you?

I just came to say farewell.

With Mr. Orgill deceased, it seems
that it's time for me to return home.

Tomorrow, in fact.

This must be a huge relief for you.

Yes, yes, it is.

It's been so much a part
of my life I'm not sure

what I'll do with myself.

I'm sure you'll find something.

I'd like to apologize
again for my behaviour.

If you would... I'd very much
like to make it up to you.

Really, that's not necessary.

No, please.

Please, allow me to take you to dinner.

Oh, well, I would like that very much,

but I... unfortunately I have a lot
of work ahead of me this evening.

I understand.

It's been a pleasure, Dr. Ogden.

Hopefully we'll have the
opportunity to meet again

under better circumstances.

I hope so too.

Miss Ross... both Alberta Moffat

and Gloria Ambercrombie stayed
here at one time, did they not?

God rest their souls, yes. But
Alberta had moved out a month ago.

You aren't suggesting that somehow the YWCA

is involved in these murders?

No, but it is a common point
between the two victims.

Who had access to your records?

We are very strict about the
privacy of the women who stay here.

Of course. I didn't mean to imply.

Besides I thought you
would already be aware.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

Well, the only person
who's examined our files

was one of your men.

- My men?
- Yes. One of your officers.

Can you describe this officer?

So the killer impersonates a copper,

goes to the YWCA,

supposedly investigating a
deviant loose in the area.

Yes. And in doing so, he
acquires a list of young

women and where they worked.

The victims.

Do we have a description of the suspect?


And I also have one of his fingermarks.

Fingermark? From where?

It was left behind in the
carriage by the killer.

How do we know it's the killer's?

Because it matches one left behind
on the snakes and ladders board.

But only our officers
have touched that game.


The killer isn't
impersonating a police officer.

He's one of ours.

Who? 'Cause I'll personally put
the bloody noose around his neck.

Edward Scanlon.

Scanlon, are you sure?

Sir, he left a fingermark
on the carriage yet told me

the men never allowed him access.

Plus it would explain some things.

Imagine a carriage pulls
alongside a young woman.

Scanlon shows her his badge.

She jumps in.

Bloody hell. We've let him
slip through our fingers.

I don't think he's gone far, Sir.

He always strikes eight times.

That leaves him with a fair
bit of unfinished business.

I want every man on the
job until he's found.

Cancel all leave.

I'll take a look into Mr. Scanlon's past.

I just received a telegram
from Scotland Yard.

It seems there was a
Detective Edward Scanlon

and he was tracking a suspected
killer named Harlan Orgill.


He was found murdered
in a hotel room in Cairo.

So Orgill kills Scanlon
and assumes his personae.

Sir. I was just by Scanlon's hotel.

He checked out about an hour ago.

Bloody hell.

Well, he may not have gone far.

The doorman seemed to think he was sick.


Said something about
paying a visit to a doctor.

A murderer kills unabated
and at every turn...

I am met with indifference.

All the women worked.

It's not that I'm disagreeing
with you, Detective.

- Doctor Ogden.
- A working woman.

Go on, move it.


Mr. Scanlon.

You gave me quite the fright.

Did I?

Is there something I can do for you?

Yes, Doctor.

There is.

Doctor Ogden, are you here?

You two go that way.


Julia, are you all right?



I'm fine.


Mr. Orgill.

When I first came here, I thought
it would be you who stopped me.

I was wrong.

Tell Dr. Ogden, "thank you".


I didn't... I didn't mean to...


You were simply defending yourself.

I think I need to go home now.

Yes, of course. I'll see you safely there.

I know this sounds ghoulish...

But part of me wishes
that Orgill had survived.

At least long enough for
me to have spoken with him.

Yes, there was much to learn from him.

- Do you think?
- I do.

Well, our experiment
didn't really exactly help

solve the case, did it?

Oh, I'm not sure about that.

It proved quite accurate in many ways.


As we discussed, the Dr. Jeckyll portion of

his mind did want to be caught.

He provided me with the YWCA clue.

He really was saying, "try to stop me".

- Yes.
- And the number eight?

Do you have any ideas as to its importance?

My only thought is that
there were eight snakes

on the snakes and ladders board.

- Eight sins.
- Eight women to be punished.

What those sins were, I
guess we'll never know.

Perhaps their origins lie in his childhood,

as you speculated.

Or perhaps he was literally
just playing a game.

Thank you, Dr. Roberts.

I hope never to have to call on you
and your professional capacity again,

but I suspect there will be reason.

Any time, Detective.

Ah, Detective. I was
worried you had given up.

Your abilities are not that bad.

I appreciate your faith, Professor.

And I appreciate a challenge.

Your partner, Dr. Ogden?

Uh, we had an incident at work.

I'm afraid she won't be making it tonight.

In fact, she may not be here for some time.

I think you are mistaken.

Ladies and gentlemen,
let us begin with a waltz.

I must say I am surprised to see you here

this evening, Julia.

Yes, well, I just thought tonight,

more than any night, I would
very much like to be held.