Murdoch Mysteries (2008–…): Season 6, Episode 7 - The Ghost of Queen's Park - full transcript

Murdoch and Crabtree investigate the death of Reginald Chilton, the Member of Provincial Parliament from Toronto East who died from a fall from an upper floor at the Provincial legislature, Queen's Park. The guard on duty at the time, Briggs, swears he saw a ghost push Chilton over the railing. Samuel Jenkins of the Toronto Gazette informs the police that he was investigating Chilton's unscrupulous business dealings. Crabtree for his part wants to explore the supernatural elements of the case but Murdoch dissuades him. Dr. Grace says Chilton definitely died from the fall but it appears that he fell backwards over the balcony as if he had been pushed. A second man, Dr. Ansel Fraser, dies in a similar fashion and the police focus on the Provincial Secretary, Thaddeus Walsh. As far as the ghost is concerned Murdoch is convinced the apparitions are very human.



Anybody there?!

Anybody there?!

Oh. It's just you, Briggs.

Mr. Chilton? Mr. Chilton!

No. No, please! No!

This was Reginald Chilton.

He was the M.P.P. for Toronto East.

Thank you, Lieutenant Governor.

Poor man. This is a terrible business.

Indeed, Your Honour.

- Dr. Grace.
- He has a fractured skull

and a crushed cervical vertebrae.

Either would have been
sufficient to kill him.

Injuries consistent with a fall.

Oh, my God. Reginald.

Detective William Murdoch,
Toronto Constabulary. You are?

Thaddeus Walsh, Provincial Secretary.

I came as soon as I was called.
Reginald was my oldest friend.

Do you know if Mr. Chilton had
any reason to take his life?

Absolutely not.

By every measure he was a man of success.

Did he have any enemies?

Name me one politician
worth his salt who doesn't.

Would you care to elaborate?

Mr. Chilton was a man who got his way.

I admired him for that; others did not.

I see. Thank you, sir.

Detective, this is Mr.
Briggs, the night watchman.

He called the police.

That wasn't all. I seen what done it.

Foul play's at work here.

And not by the likes of you or me.

What do you mean?

It was the work of a ghost.

The Ghost of Queen's Park.

- There's a ghost?
- And not just one; several.

Apparitions have been
sighted through the halls...

lady ghosts, one and all.

But this one... this one was
different from the others.

- How so?
- This one was glowing.

It was glowing?

Sir, what time did you see the ghost?

Ten pm.

A dead politician! Well,
that'll ruffle a few feathers.

Do you have any leads?

Yes, sir. An eye witness, Mr.
Briggs, the night watchman.

- Well, it'll be a short investigation, then.
- Not exactly, sir.

Mr. Briggs claims the murderer was a ghost.

A ghost?

Doing in a politician?

I always thought Queen's Park was

full of happy dafties,
but this takes the cake.

- Happy dafties?
- Crackpots.

Good day, gentlemen.

I've heard about Chilton.

I thought I owed it to your investigation

- to tell you what I know.
- And you are?

Samuel Jenkins.

Toronto Gazette?


I was conducting an investigation
into Chilton's dealings.

Have a seat.

You've written about Chilton in
the past, if I'm not mistaken?

Yeah. Shame to lose such
a rich vein of material.

You know the slaughterhouses
off Eastern Avenue, the ones

that dumped their effluent
directly into Ashbridge's Bay?

Yes. They nearly caused
an outbreak of cholera.

He owned those.

After I exposed them,

he supposedly sold the
property and went into politics.

- Supposedly?
- In his position

as the province's lands commissioner,

Chilton was pushing the
government to purchase

that exact piece of property...
for an inflated price.

For the new sewage treatment plant.

Did he still has an interest?

The land is owned by a numbered company.

The address is a post box.

The board of directors is
comprised of two Chilton cronies.

What do you think?


Did Chilton know you were
investigating his affairs?

Oh, yes. In fact, he was suing me

to discourage further
scrutiny of his dealings.

I see.

Well, with Chilton's death

you would no longer have to
worry about the libel suit.

It was a paper tiger. He
would never have proceeded.

A court case would have

allowed me to subpoena documents

to prove that he still
held a controlling interest.

Of course, now that he's died

under mysterious circumstances,

that might be something
you want to look into.

- I've seen them all.
- Oh!

Mr. Briggs.

There's a tall thin one

with streaming hair and a long flowing robe

who wanders the third floor hallways.

And a maiden in a chequered dress

who pulls it up over her
head to conceal her face.

But most awful of all is the
hanging woman in the basement.

She dangles from a hook,

oozing gloom and sorrow.

Mr. Briggs, the one you saw last night?

Oh, I saw her only in the distance,

glowing with a terrible bluish-green light.

Mr. Briggs, who else was
working here last night?

Sometimes the typists
in the east wing basement

work late when the house is in session.

Yes, we were working late to
finish some reports for Mr. Chilton.

And did either of you
notice anything unusual?

Unusual in what way?

Well, Mr. Briggs says

- that Queen's Park is haunted.
- It is.

- Hogwash, Marge. You've never seen any ghosts.
- Yes, I have.

Well, I haven't actually seen them,

but I felt the presence of a
vengeful spirit on the fourth floor.

That was most likely His
Right Honourable's secretary.

- Very funny.
- I wouldn't put much truck

into what that Mr. Briggs told you.

He isn't quite the full tin of biscuits.

I've seen one. Last night,
just as we were leaving. I saw

the ghost of a woman at
the end of the hallway.

Was she hanging from a hook?

No, she was glowing.

Sir, I think we may be...

premature in eliminating the supernatural
element from this investigation.

At least two people have said they've
seen a glowing ghost in recent days.

George, there is absolutely
no scientific basis

- for the existence of ghosts.
- Yes, sir, but you yourself have said

the absence of evidence is not
necessarily the evidence of absence.

You yourself believe in
God and heaven for instance.

Neither of which I'm bringing
into this investigation.

Yes, sir, but you believe they
exist along with an everlasting soul.

- Yes, George.
- So, sir, it is my theory

that ghosts are souls
that are stranded here

because they have unfinished business.

- Unfinished business?
- Yes, sir.

They are not able to pass on,

because they have a loved one in trouble,

or they themselves have been
wronged terribly, even murdered.

And the sheer injustice of it

makes it impossible for
them to rest in peace.

So, it's your belief, George,
that Mr. Chilton was killed

by the ghost of someone
he himself murdered?

Or wronged in some way.

Oh. That's a very interesting theory.

- Thank you, sir.
- And given unlimited resources

I would happily permit
you to follow this line

of inquiry. But as it
is, I need you to find out

what Dr. Grace has for us. Thank you.

His occipital bone was crushed

and his neck was broken
at the first vertebrae.

So it was the fall that killed him.

Oh, yes. What's interesting is,

given the position of his body,

it seems he went
backwards over the balcony.

As if someone... or
something, forced him back.


It's my theory that a vengeful
spirit might be responsible.

A ghost?

Now I know what you're
thinking, but it's practically

common knowledge that
Queen's Park is haunted.

I've heard this.

Yes. And we have a witness
that claims to have seen a ghost

last night when Mr. Chilton fell.

Is Detective Murdoch
entertaining this possibility?

He can be a tad close-minded
about such things.

Still, you shouldn't abandon
this avenue of investigation.

You don't think so?

I've been involved in
some scientific experiments

entailing metaphysical
excursions to the other side.

- Metaphysical excursions?
- Yes.

And we've proven that it's possible
to enter the portals of the afterlife

without going all the way over.

Emily, this fits my
theory exactly-that ghosts

are simply spirits that are not yet
ready to pass through those portals.

Then you should pursue
this line of inquiry.

I don't know if Detective
Murdoch will grant me permission.

Then it may be best to seek forgiveness
later than ask permission now.

That journalist, Jenkins,
was on to something.

The company holding the
Ashbridge's Bay property is

in turn held by another numbered company.

One shell inside another.

Mm. Chilton was both a businessman and
a lawyer before going into politics.

So he would have known how to set it up.

This could underlie everything, Murdoch.

But if Chilton submerged his
name to cover up his activities,

that would explain why he
might want to kill someone,

but it doesn't give us a reason why
someone would want to kill Chilton.

- What about the journalist?
- He claims he was working

to deadline at the time of the murder.

Sirs, I have found some information
I believe is very important.

What have you, George?

It pertains to the theory I
expressed to you earlier, sir.

What theory?

Constable Crabtree believes
Mr. Briggs is correct

in thinking our culprit is a spirit

inhabiting Queen's Park.

- Spirits!
- Hear me out, sirs.

I paid a visit to City Records
to look into the history

of the legislative buildings,
my thinking being that,

if it had been built atop a cemetery,

that would explain souls
of the dead rising up

- in anger about being disturbed.
- Oh, George...

But, sir, what I discovered
is far more interesting.

All right, I'll nibble. Go on.

Thirty years ago on the very land on
which the legislative buildings now sit

was... the University Lunatic Asylum

- for Insane Women.
- So?

So?! That explains why
Queen's Park is haunted!

What soul is more likely to
languish in restless disquiet

than that of a deranged woman?!

George, I thought I expressly told
you to restrict your investigation.

- I had some free time, sir.
- Not anymore you don't.

I want you to go down to City Records
and look into the ownership history

of this Ashbridge's Bay
property. And only this.

Sir, if I could just find the
identity of the inmate responsible...

- Now, Crabtree!
- Yes, sir.

You encourage him.


What a pleasant surprise.
What brings you here?

Actually, Doctor, I'm hoping
that you can help me with

- a murder case we're working on.
- Of course. What do you need?

I'm looking for some information
about the University Lunatic Asylum.

Is there some connection between
the old asylum and a case?


Between you and I, Doctor,
there is some evidence

to suggest that a ghost is involved.

A ghost?

Now, Detective Murdoch has yet to
sanction such a line of inquiry.

- I see. Well, how can I help you?
- I'm hoping to have a look

at the files pertaining to the
women who were once inmates there.

Well, when those women
were transferred here,

their files may have come over with them.

Take this note to Clifford

in Records, and he will help you.

That's brilliant. Thank you, Doctor.

Dr. Garland.

Constable Crabtree.


Hello, Julia.

Well, Darcy, it seems to be
a day for unexpected visitors.

- I have a favour to ask.
- A favour?

The charity ball tomorrow.

We're expected to bring our wives.

I'm hoping you'll still
be able to accompany me.

I see.

I am aware of the
awkwardness of the situation.

But we agreed that the
hospital board wouldn't

know of the change in our circumstances.

It would be a great favour, Julia.

Yes, yes, of course I'll
come with you, Darcy.

We can be done with the
pretence soon enough.

Next week I mark one year
as chief administrator.

In that position, I'll be a
lot more secure, not as easy

- to dismiss me.
- They're not going to fire you.

Dr. Lamott thinks you're
marvellous. And I will

take the brunt of the scandal
of divorce, as it should be.

- What time do you need me?
- Pick you up at seven?


And, Darcy...

rest assured.

I will be my most gracious self.

- What have you, George?
- Ah! Sir!

I looked into the history of
the Ashbridge's Bay company.

Until 1787 that property
was part of the Toronto

Carrying Purchase from
the Mississauga Indians.

It was subsequently allocated
to the United Empire Loyalists...

Bloody hell, Crabtree, we don't need
to go back to the age of the dinosaurs.

Let's see. In 1860 the land was
owned by one Herbert G. Marshall.

His family had farmed it for generations.

He wanted to turn it into a
bird sanctuary before he died.

A bird sanctuary. This Marshall would

turn in his grave if he could see it now.

How did the property come to
be used for slaughterhouses?

When Herbert Marshall died,
it went to his daughter,

Abigail. When she passed, it went
to her husband, Thaddeus Walsh.

The provincial secretary?

Who'd have guessed it?

Another politician up to his neck in it.

Walsh built the slaughterhouses. He
eventually sold them to Mr. Chilton.

Chilton eventually sold them to
the company that owns them now.

I think we should have
another chat with Mr. Walsh.

Yes, I built the slaughterhouses.

It was the best use of
the land at the time.

- Not a bird sanctuary, then?
- A bird sanctuary within city limits...

it's absurd. Cities are for
people, not birds. At any rate,

I sold the operation to
Reginald when I ran for office.

And you have no further
interest in the property?

- None.
- Yet you helped Mr. Chilton

push through a proposal that would have

the government purchase
the Ashbridge's property

- at an inflated price.
- Thick as thieves, you lot.

If we dig into those numbered companies,

what are the chances that
both your names turn up.

You intend to drag my name through
the dirt in an election year?

You're worried about re-election?

If I were you, I'd be more
concerned about my neck in the noose.

The noose?

Mr. Chilton was being
investigated by a newspaper

reporter. That investigation
could have led to you.

- You're suggesting I killed my friend?
- You couldn't kill Jenkins

without drawing suspicion,

but who'd finger you for
your pal Chilton's murder?

Your accusations... !

Do you know who I am?

- I'll have your badges!
- Mr. Secretary,

not even the Queen gets away with murder.

Good day.


Go to the business registry office

and see what you can find out
about these numbered companies.

Bring the files back with you,

- and pay very careful attention.
- You'll be looking for any traces

of Chilton's or Walsh's names
hidden in the fine print.

Yes, sir.

George. Have you made any
inroads with the inmate files?

I'm afraid I've been waylaid in my efforts.

- Julia.
- William.

Are you busy?

An evening with the hospital board
is a chore at the best of times,

but I must live up to my
arrangement with Darcy.

It is only one evening, Julia.

I can't let him lose his position.

I intend to do everything I
can to protect his reputation.

That's only fair.

This circumstance is hardly his fault.

I wish we lived in a different time,

when we could be together
and the world wouldn't care.

Is Detective Murdoch in?

No, he's gone off with Dr. Ogden

and left me here on a wild goose chase.

Well, I've made an exciting discovery

that just might lift your spirits,

and perhaps pull Detective Murdoch
around to your way of thinking.

Ah, no. A team of workhorses
could not accomplish that.

I've detected high levels of
adrenaline in the victim's bloodstream.

It's not unusual to find elevated
levels in murder victims, of course,

but these were especially high.

- What does it mean?
- Adrenaline is secreted

when the victim experiences
acute psychological shock.

As if he'd seen a ghost.

George, I think there's more to your theory

than Detective Murdoch gives credit to.

Emily, look at this.

Each one of these asylum files
has a complete patient history.

Now, it's my belief that
by going through these files

I may be able to identify some
of the ghosts that have been seen.

We should see the ghost ourselves.

What, spend the night in Queen's Park?

You're finished your shift soon.

How do we know the ghost will
show up? They're notoriously shy.

Perhaps we'll be lucky.

I have a better idea.

We'll capture one.

We call it the scrutiny camera.

I'll set it to take a
picture every 10 seconds.

Is it actually possible to take
a picture in so dark a place?

If we set the shutter to
stay open for a full second.

George... we never did talk

of what happened the day of the evacuation.

Emily, I apologize for overstepping.

- It was just that I thought...
- George, you didn't overstep.

I thought we were about to die, and...

kissing you like that was
highly presumptuous, I know...

I was very glad you did.

- You were?
- I was.

I hear footsteps.

- It's probably just the night watchman.
- No, he just went that way.


Who are you?

I'm sorry. I'm a little lost.

- I was summoned to see Mr. Walsh.
- At this time of night?

Do you know where his office is?

I believe it's the next floor up.


- Thank you.
- Well, we should go,

I suppose. I'll check
the camera in the morning.

Doctor Grace.

- Are you scared?
- No, not at all.

If ghosts are just unmoored souls,
they're to be pitied, not feared.



- You again?
- Any sign of the ghost?

I felt a chill near the suite of the
lieutenant governor, but no sightings.

I'll get the lights!

Oh, my goodness.

- Is he dead?
- Uh-huh.

You got here quickly, Doctor.

Who discovered the body?

I did, sir.

You did, George?

What were you doing here?

I was setting up the scrutiny camera, sir.


I was trying to capture proof
of the spirit activity, sir.

George, I thought I told you
to leave all of that behind.

- It was at my suggestion, Detective.
- Dr. Grace...

I believed Constable Crabtree's theory

worthy of consideration.
I was surprised to hear

that you did not, given
your own experience.

Right. What have you found?

Head trauma may be

the cause of death, but
I will not know for sure

till I thoroughly examine the body.

Have we identified him?

Not yet. He actually approached us

shortly before he fell.
He was asking directions

for Thaddeus Walsh's office.
I found this on his person.

"We need to talk. Come to my
Queen's Park office tonight.

Tell no one. T. Walsh."

I don't know him.

You don't seem too sure about that.

Did you summon him?


That's not my signature.
You can check it if you like.

Someone clearly stole my letterhead.

Then where were you at
the time of the incident?

I was on my way home.

Can anyone confirm that?

You can't seriously think that
I had something to do with this.

He's connected to both
deaths in different ways.

Oh, he's mixed up in this, Murdoch.

And I'll wager if we follow
the money trail, we'll find out.

Crabtree, keep digging into those files.

There's got to be something in there

that clearly links to Chilton and Walsh.

Yes, sir. Sir, I know you
don't want to hear any more

about the ghost, but there's
something you have to see.

- What is it?
- Sir, it's a single frame

from the scrutiny camera
film we took at Queen's Park.

Sir, I think that's the glowing ghost.

- It isn't a ghost, George.
- Then what is it?

Excuse me, Constable. My
husband's gone missing.

Oh, my... God.


Could you please state
your husband's full name?

Dr. Ansel Fraser.

When did you last see
your husband, Mrs. Fraser?


yesterday evening.

Do you know what he was
doing at Queen's Park?

I have no idea. He...

he wanted to go for a walk.

He often did that in the evening.

Did he happen to mention a Thaddeus Walsh?

Oh, God.

Mrs. Fraser.

- I'm sorry.
- It's quite all right,

Mrs. Fraser. The constable
will see you home.

This way.

- Sir...
- Not now, George.

Dr. Grace,

have you been able to
establish a cause of death?

It wasn't the head trauma from
the fall that killed Dr. Fraser.

He was likely dead upon impact, having
suffered a myocardial infarction.

A heart attack.

Sir, he died of fright.

- As if he'd seen...
- He'd seen a ghost.

Yes, I know where you're
going with this, George.

Dr. Grace, I'd like to see a full report.

And, both of you,

not another word about ghosts.

Sir, there's something you should know.

- Is it about a ghost?
- No... possibly.

Sir, Dr. Ansel Fraser used to work
for the University Lunatic Asylum.

It's part of an independent
investigation I've been conducting.

I know what you're going to say, sir, but

I'm sure these deaths have
something to do with the old asylum.

See if you can find any link
to Mr. Chilton in those files.

Yes, sir.



Sir! Look at this! Asylum committal papers.

Here is the signature of Dr. Fraser.

Have a look at the name underneath it.

- Reginald Chilton.
- He was the committing lawyer.

Sir, both victims are
connected to this file.

The inmate was Abigail Marshall.

She's the daughter of the chap

who planned to build the bird sanctuary.


That would make her the
late wife of Thaddeus Walsh.

Sir, I believe we've identified
the Queen's Park Ghost...

it's the insane deceased wife
of Provincial Secretary Walsh!

We need to have a chat with Mr. Walsh.

- About my theory?
- No, George.


It can't be! You're dead!

You're dead!

- Who?
- Abigail, my wife.

Where did she go?


Stop! Police!

Do you believe me now, sir?

That wasn't a ghost, George.

Sir, we both just saw it with our own eyes!

It was clearly an apparition
from the afterlife!

It wasn't a ghost, and
I intend to prove it.

What's all this, then?

It's a mixture of zinc
sulphide and facial cream.

It functions as a phosphor.

- Phosphorous, ah, yes.
- No, sir, not phosphorous.

- Phosphor.
- What's the difference?

Phosphorous is an element

that glows when exposed to oxygen.

Phosphor is any compound that absorbs

and then re-emits light
in the visible range.

Right, that should do it.

George, you'll need to hold
your face up to the sun.

For how long, sir?

Um... two hours should do it.


Enjoy, Crabbers.

Murdoch, I give you our test subject.

Very good. George, have a seat.

Good God.

Here you are, George.

- There's your ghost.
- Oh, my. Still, sir,

how did Walsh identify the
ghost as that of his dead wife?

Good question. How, Murdoch?

I don't know.

But at least now we know how the
ghost achieved its ethereal effect.


- may I wash this off now?
- Not yet, George.

I want to see how long
the luminescence lasts.

So, what's going on?

Crabtree was right. Whether
there's a ghost or not,

someone's going to a lot of
effort to haunt Thaddeus Walsh.

- Mm.
- It was the ghost of my dead wife.

Are you quite sure?

Why would your dead
wife choose to haunt you?

- I don't know.
- Did you collude with your friend Mr. Chilton

to have your wife committed, and
have Dr. Fraser approve the committal?

- My wife was a deeply troubled woman.
- Who was about to turn a very

valuable piece of property
into a bird sanctuary.

It had nothing to do with that!

She was depressed... hysterically so.

I didn't know what else to do.

- It was for her own good.
- She must have felt differently.

The two victims were the
men who were responsible

for committing her to the asylum.

Do you know what I think, Mr. Walsh?

I think this is all a lie.

I think you concocted this "ghost"
to murder your former colleagues

and to deflect suspicion from yourself.

You're wrong. I'm being haunted

by my former wife. I don't know why,

but I want the police
to stop persecuting me

and start protecting me!

Protect you from a ghost? How
do you propose we do that, then?

If there are no further questions.

Sirs, I wouldn't be so quick to conclude

the glowing woman is not a ghost.


The cream doesn't glow anymore.

He's right.

You brought me inside at 11
o'clock. It's now just past one.

So, what's your point?

My point is, the cream lasts
for less than two hours.

In each case the ghost was seen
three to five hours after sunset.

Well, Murdoch, is there
any other concoction

you can think of that would
hold a glow for five hours?

Not offhand, no.

Sir, could she have

charged herself up under a light bulb?

No, the intensity of a light
bulb would be insufficient.

Well, then... it must be a ghost.

- I hate to say it, Murdoch.
- Sir, you can't possibly think...

It glows, it looks like
Abigail Marshall, and I don't

think this is all the
brainchild of Thaddeus Walsh.

Run with it, Crabtree.
Find out what you can

about Abigail Marshall
and this ghost business.

Yes, sir.

You're just encouraging him.


They've finally come around to supporting

my ghost investigation! At least,

- Inspector Brackenreid has.
- That's excellent news, George.

My plan is to return to Queen's Park

with the scrutiny camera
if you'd care to assist me.

Of course.

I can finish this work later.

So, how do you propose we get
a sharper picture this time?

I'm going to widen the aperture

and shorten the exposure.

- Huh.
- Emily, what's that?


Something's glowing over there.

Indeed it is.

It's coming from Dr. Fraser.

There was something in
the creases of his palm

during my post-mortem. I thought it
was dirt, but it's something else.

- What?
- Something that glows.

Do you think it's from the ghost?

Ghosts don't manifest physical matter.

Yes, right, no, I know.

I suppose we should
inform Detective Murdoch.

For all his finesse as a surgeon,

Dr. McKenzie doesn't cut much
of a figure on the dance floor.

He ruined the shoe on my left foot.

I think you've finally made
an impression with Dr. Lamott.

He was hanging on your every word.

Really? Perhaps I should
have brought up the benefits

of a contraception clinic
while I had him in my thrall.

It was a wonderful evening,
Julia. Thank you for coming.

You're welcome, Darcy. I'm glad you asked.

I'd forgotten how much
I enjoy your company.



My goodness, you look beautiful.

Well, thank you, Detective.

I just came by to say good night.

How was the ball? Not too tedious, I hope.

I survived.

William, what is causing that luminescence?

Oh, it's something I've never seen before.

It was found on the hands
of our latest victim.

What I suspect... it's impossible.

Have a look.

I suspect it's a compound of some sort

and one of the ingredients
is... radium dust.

- That's remarkable.
- But who here in Toronto would

have access to such a rare element?

Actually, I have read about
a scientist who went to Paris

to consult with Madame Curie
on her work with radium.

Someone in Toronto now?

Do you recall the name?

I do. It's Professor Paul Monteith.

Incredible as it seems, this appears
to contain the very same substance

- as I've been working with.
- Radium.

Yes. I've been developing
a radium paint compound.

To what purpose?

A company in the United States

hopes one day to create pocket
watches with glowing dials.


Professor Monteith,

does anyone else have
access to your materials?

No. I work entirely alone.

It's a very painstaking
and meticulous process,

as you might imagine.

- I knew it wasn't a ghost.
- No.

The substance that our so-called
ghost used was a compound

of Jonteel Beauty Cream, water, and radium.

- And what is this radium?
- It's a newly discovered element.

It produces a persistent luminescent glow.

Our ghost must have applied
the beauty cream to her face

then found a way to imbue
her clothing in radium.

- How did she get a hold of it?
- I have no idea.

It's very rare, difficult to produce.

As a matter of fact, we only know of
one scientist who's been working with it.

Sirs, I've discovered something
I believe is of significance.

What is it?

When Abigail Marshall was
committed to the Lunatic Asylum,

she was pregnant.

Oh? And she had the child?

Asylum records state only
that she went into labour.

The next entry lists that
she died two days later.

She died in childbirth.

- Along with the baby?
- Well, the thing is,

I then went to City Records and
they do have a record of the birth...

a girl, Lorraine.

The interesting thing is, the signature

on that birth certificate
is that of Imogene Fraser.

- The wife of our second victim.
- Yes, sir.

When Dr. Fraser was the head
of the Lunatic Asylum, his wife,

Mrs. Fraser, was the matron.

This is all my fault.

Ansel's dead because of me.

How so?

I had no idea she'd do something like this.

I just thought she had a
right to know who she was,

to know who her mother was.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fraser,
who are we talking about?


Abigail Marshall's daughter.

It was you. You took the child from her.

I did as I was instructed.

Who gave those orders?

The lawyer, Mr. Chilton.

Abigail was inconsolable.

The baby was the only thing she had.

Two days after we wrested
Lorraine from her arms,

she hanged herself.

But not before

writing a letter to the
child she would never know.

You went to see Lorraine, didn't you?

Yes, to give her the letter

along with a photograph of her mother.

She's the perfect likeness.

Why now, after you'd kept your silence

for all these years?

My conscience could abide no
longer the wrong we'd done.

Neither my husband nor
I were in good health.

I'd hoped to make amends

so we might... meet again in heaven.

What happened to the child, to Lorraine?

They asked me to arrange for an adoption.

She went to a good home.

Who took her in?

So you had no idea of the child's origins?


My wife and I raised Lorraine
as though she were our very own.

Do you know where your
daughter is now, Professor?

- She's at her place of work.
- And where is that?

She works at Queen's Park.

She's a typist there.

Pardon us, ladies.

- What are you doing?
- What's going on?

Miss Monteith, we need to have a talk.

Do they read like the
thoughts of a madwoman?

- No, they do not.
- They shut her up in that horrible place.

They stole her life.

And for what?

A miserable piece of land.

So you took your revenge.

I'd heard about the ghosts at Queen's Park.

I knew two of the men
responsible worked there.

And you knew of your adoptive
father's work with radium.

I intended to haunt them

as my mother's ghost,
make them feel the terror

she must have felt every
day in that awful place.

But I never intended for them to die.

You didn't?

It was their own guilt that killed them.

I never touched Chilton.
He fell all by himself.

And Dr. Fraser?

I don't know what happened.

He just grabbed his chest
and fell down the stairs.

The only one I intended to kill was Walsh.

Your father.

He was no father to me.

What's happening to me?

She's not well, is she?

Maybe it's the radium stuff she
was rubbing all over herself.

It's a very new discovery.
We know so little about it.

- Are we going to charge her?
- I'm not sure how.

The person I'd really like
to charge is Thaddeus Walsh.

That's not very likely,

although his political
career is most likely ruined.

Sometimes there's just no
justice in the world. Drink?

I might almost say yes.

George. I thought we might
return to Queen's Park

to attempt the capture of one
of the real ghosts on film.

Unfortunately Detective Murdoch has made it

abundantly clear I'm not
to use the scrutiny camera

for any more extra-departmental activities.

He's even put it under lock and key.

Oh. That is a shame.

However, Emily, there are
said to be several soldiers

from the war of 1812 who haunt
the shores of Grenadier Pond.

I don't know if you'd be up
for an excursion to High Park?

I happen to be free this evening.

Excellent. Now, we won't have the camera
to keep watch for us, unfortunately.

Then we shall simply have
to keep each other awake.