Ripper Street (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - Threads of Silk and Gold - full transcript

I want to see the pyramids.

I want a suit made out of silk
from Hong Kong.

I want my own blend of tobacco
and a pipe of ivory.

I want a pair of shoes...
made out of silver.

That's the stupidest idea
I think I've ever heard.

You'll be jealous.

It's your turn.

I want you.

Nothing more.

Tell me.

Tell me we can do this.
We can do this.



I promise you.

We have Quint's folio.

He'll pay.

He has to.

He'll pay whatever we want.

Then I want my suit
and my silver bloody shoes.

Shit. Luke's gonna skin us.

Let him try.

Come next week,
we'll be long gone from all of 'em.

All of this.

Harry Collins! Harry, liven up.

Regent Street, Baker Street,
Haymarket.

David Goodbody.

David Goodbody.



David?

No Vincent neither.

Otto Roberts.

Do you want to earn a few quid?
Special?

Harlequin. David's ground, but...

Early bird and all that.

Please come in.

You may close the door now.
I'm the boy you called for.

I, er...have something for you, sir.

Yes, David.

I believe you do.

Buggery, sodomy,
and acts homosexual are crimes.

There'll be no bail, sir. Go.

If you'll follow me, sir.
Next!

Oi! We'll have less of
that!

Quite a haul, Inspector Ed.

Another foul molly house brought to
ground by the brave crusaders of
Leman Street.

On the side of the pansies now,
are you?

On the side,
as ever, only of justice.

Tell me, Sergeant, what room here
for the cut-throats and filchers of
Whitechapel,

when your cells runneth over
with mandrakes and rantipoles?

Oh, no doubt you'd have the streets
amok with arse-mongers.

Streets, sir?
You raided a private residence.

Are there any, um...

are there any blue bloods this time?

Or are they all still running scared
after Cleveland Street?

Do not ever again come here
for your muckraking.

Escort Mr Best back to the gutter.

This is a free land, Inspector,
first in the civilised world.

It is not muck I seek to shovel
into cold light here, but rank
hypocrisy!

Goulston Street, sir, telegraph boy.

- Otto Roberts?
- Yes, sir.

Who was it occupied this room?

Didn't give his name, sir.

This ain't The Savoy.

Could have fooled me.
His appearance?

Middle-aged business type.

Not too shabby, not too smart.
He looked like anyone.

My guests don't care to be studied.

Faces come and go.
Some pay by the hour. Did he?

Coughed up for day and night.
Said he awaited a telegram.

I should send up the boy.

Get inside! Come on, Tommy!

If you could perchance hasten
matters,

I should like to rent the room again
before lunch.

Get him before Jackson.

All right, which of you goddamn
whoresons is a flimflam man, huh?

Come on, I'm not fresh off the...

Good to see you. I'll get a drink.

All right, we're not done here.

What say one of you fellas lends me
the money for another hand, huh?

Dr Yankee.

Nice duds.

My ship came in. Gin for everyone.

Must have been a goddamn galleon.
Call it a fleet.

Well, I'd love to say
I don't begrudge you a penny,
Charlie, but I'm a shitty liar.

How about you squaring
some of what's owed, huh?

Plus interest, with thanks.

And I can do better than that, Doc.
You've done me a turn once or twice.

All this...

it's there for the taking.

You boy! You manage here?
Barely.

Messenger was sent this morning
to Goulston Street.

Is that so?
Harlequin Hotel.

Oh, that was...

He shouldn't have even been there.

It wasn't his job.
Then whose?

David. David Goodbody.
Around that way's his patch.

My ears are burning.
I wish all of you was burning.

What's afoot?
Otto's dead.

- What?
- Took your rounds

cos you'd done a bloody bunk,
and some bastard killed him.

Who are you?
Am I under arrest?

- Watch your tongue, boy.
- Vincent.

Featherwell.

I was with David today.
Went to the fair in Bethnal Green.

During work?
Isn't illegal to hate your job.

Who was the telegram for?
I only had the address.

Is that usual?

It happens. We just deliver.

You, David, have you been
at the Harlequin before?

No.

Are you certain about that?
Yes. Yes, sir.

Help me discover
what befell your friend.

I need to know where that telegram
was sent from, when, and by whom.

I do not wish to make
such a visit here again.

According to their ledger,
the telegram was sent
from a bureau in the city.

No name given.

You can see here, all these,
day after day, week after week,

sent from the heart of the City
to addresses in Whitechapel.

But no replies.
The mail only travels one way.

That's banker's turf.

What business have well-to-do's
telegraphing the rookery?

Why indeed? See here.
David Goodbody lies.

He's been dispatched
to the Harlequin three times
this fortnight.

Find these other addresses.
I want to know
who's been receiving these missives.

Strangulation, then?

Silk fibres.

From a scarf maybe.

A knot tied in it.

And the boy was sexually active.

Very active, and not with women.

Was he forced? Not that I can see,
least not today.

He was just, I don't know,
an enthusiast.

They're bloody everywhere.

Don't knock it till you tried it,
Benito.

I know some stevedores'd
treat you like a princess.

Those addresses, almost all of them,

flag the Harlequin.
I want to know the movements

of this boy, David. Trail him.

And his friend, sir? The gobby one?
Him too.

Tierra del Fuego.

South America.

It's the land of fire.
My friend Charlie gave it to me.

Might as well be
goddamn hieroglyphics to me.

I mean, look at this.

You know anything about investments,

stocks, bridge loans?

Land of fire? Sounds like hell.

I'm looking for my friend...

David Goodbody.

He's off shift.

Who, then, might know
where I could find him?

I'll give it back.

- Tell Quint it was a mistake.
- No.

We see this through.
How?

Quint's gonna kill us. I mean,
that should have been me today.

I know that.

My love, believe me, I know that.

You're here and we're alive,

and, while blood still pumps in me,
I'll not give up on the plans we've
made.

Whoever Quint sent for us
went to your patch

and assumed the boy
who showed up was you.

He didn't know Otto was Otto.
He doesn't know my face.

Nor mine. There's still time
to see this through.

So, we hit back and we hit hard.

What we asked for, let's double it.

I'm going to see Freddie Best.
We need to ensure we're safe.

Come with.
I've a job.

No.
Take my knife.

And what about you?
Please. For this job, at least.

I told you.

We can do this.

You heard about Otto?
Course I bloody did.

Poor sod. I thought
you'd given up the frig jobs.

Money's money.

Is, um...

..is Harry all right?
Harry's fine.

He sent this. Said he'd meet you
at the Harlequin after his shift.

So, Otto, what do you know?

How would you like The Star to turn
the biggest bank in London upside
down?

Just what the hell was Otto up to?
Otto wasn't.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

There's a copper watching us.

Freddie, go now.

- You're a policeman, are you not?
- Keep your voice down.

I am an abominable bugger, sir,
a proud Uranian.

A hunter of hinder parts.

A keen participant in behaviours
grotesque and indecent.

Homo sapiens homosexual.

Take me in.

You are aware of the consequences of
the admission you made to my
constable?

I fear, sir, there may have been
a misunderstanding.

My intemperate consumption.
You see, I'm...

The wretched gin
had quite scrambled my faculties.

I recall not a word I uttered
to your good man,

and I must insist I retract,
in toto.

David Goodbody sells himself
under the guise of his delivery
rounds.

Nor is he, as my sergeant
has discovered,
the only telegraph boy to do so.

Are you among them?
Certainly not.

Each to their own, mind you.

I myself am partial to a tight
mimsy.

A rosy notch.

A dewy flower.

You and David are in straits.
Otto Roberts is dead because of it.

Do you feel no guilt?
An innocent boy lies slain.

Innocent?

Yes.

Though you'd shackle him,
would you not?

Catamite. Sodomite. Pervert.

A moral bankrupt fit for your
shackles.

Are you gonna be charging me
with aught, sir?
I've got a shift coming up

and people do need their telegrams.

- Toodle-pip, sirs.
- Off he goes, then.

Proud Polly Prick-tickler.

Gamahuching his way through every
molly house back to St Martin's.

Are we short of homosexuals
wasting our cell space, Sergeant?

We could have broken him, sir.

There's an egg in the box
with a far softer shell.

- You run them. Confess it.
- No, sir!

Yes, sir! You pander and pimp those
boys, who ought to be safe in your
care.

They swing for such, do they not,
Sergeant? Indecent predators

of our noble youth.

They swing in agony, sir, and justly
so.

I run nothing!

I just...I just try to do my job.

I want to move upstairs,
learn to...to use the wire.

Which boys are the renters?
I don't know.

Not all, just...
David Goodbody.

Otto Roberts. Vincent Featherwell.

Who else? Who else?!
There are others.

What else were David and Vincent
involved in?

Your friend, Otto Roberts,

was killed in David's place.
If you seek any kind of justice

for him, you speak.

David, there's...there's a man he
sees.

A well-to-do. I've heard
David and Vincent talk of him.

His...love for David,

and how they might...capitalise.

Blackmail?
I don't know.

But it wouldn't be the first time.

This man of David's, who is he?
A banker, sir.

Name of Quint. Solomon Quint.

Quint, Solomon.

He's at the House of Barings, sir.

Get me a hansom.

Inspector Reid?
Franklin Stone. A pleasure.

We can speak in my office.

I hear you're looking for Sol Quint?

I am. You work with him?
Mm, ten years.

His work being what, exactly?

You might call him a haruspex.

In ancient times,
certain priests, haruspices,

would examine the entrails
of sacrificed beasts,

thus to determine
the fate of men and nations.

Just so, Solomon Quint would sink
his hands into the grimy slew of
phenomena,

economic, political and geographic,

and, from what he found there,
determine our fortunes.

Quite literally.

Investments.
He would analyse investments?

And the risks thereof.

Can I offer you a refreshment?

Thank you, no.

Temperate man.

Bravo.

Forgive my flippancy, sir.
This has been a most difficult time.

Sol left under something of a cloud.

He's no longer with Barings?
Since when?

Almost a week.

His work had become...

erratic.

A man in his position
cannot afford to be erratic.

Sol Quint was the most brilliant
of his kind, sir.

Until, er...

Well, he was a dear friend
and I'm not a man given to
indiscretion.

But your candour is
much appreciated, sir.

Suffice it to say Sol Quint's
marital bed was infrequently
troubled by his presence.

He had certain pastimes.

In truth, I think the man was
heartsick.

Perhaps in every life, at some
point, we must make such a choice.

What choice, Mr Stone?

Between love and gold, Inspector.

Love and gold.

My duty is to the House of Barings.

I have not...

..the luxury...

..of placing anything before gold.

Not even Sol Quint.

I was obligated to dismiss him.

If you'd oblige me, Mr Stone,
I shall need Mr Quint's address.

My folio. You were simply to recover
my folio...

..and now an innocent boy lies dead.

No.

Tell Mr Stone,
I...I need to see him.

I can't...

I cannot...

They know, man!

The boys know, and now double
would they wring from me!

Chide me not, Mr Quint.

It is to your mess
I endeavour to take my broom.

My apologies.

The older boy.

Were you aware of his friendship
with the newspaperman Fred Best?

Does...does Mr Stone know?

Well, I must see him.

This is our last chance to...

..come forth open-handed
before the bank investors.

Mr Stone would prefer
that all parties keep their counsel.

It is fundamental, Mr Quint,
that you keep your counsel.

Yes.

Of course it is.

I understand now why you came.

I would have given David anything.

Anything he asked. I...

I loved him.

I love him still.

You must think me a bloody fool,
sir.

I do not pretend to understand
the things that love makes men do.

But every man I've known
has suffered for it.

Yet what else is there, Mr Self?

How else to know,

even for a moment,

that we live?

What's this?
Charlie Frost.

Paid back the money I loaned him.

- At least that's something.
- You should have seen him.

He was suited and booted.

All in finery like a tailor's dummy.

Susan, you remember when I was
talking about a way to get us out
from under?

I'm trying to count.
Yeah, I know that, but listen.

Look, can you see I'm trying to
count? Hey.

What is it?

Silas Duggan.

Duggan. What about him?

He wants more.
How much more?

More than I have
and more than I can make.

I can't take more from the girls.
I can't.

He's squeezing us week by week.

Darling, what if I was to tell you

there was a way out of this
that didn't involve running?

Now, Charlie Frost, he's no genius,
but Charlie Frost knows some people.

There's a mine.

Silver and copper.
The land is lousy with it.

Charlie put in what little he had.
Within a week, 200.

This is your notion of out from
under?

To gamble what meagre pot
Silas Duggan does not extort?

That's the beauty of it. It ain't
a gamble, and the value just soars.

Ah, the man whose numeracy extends
to the price of liquor and tail,

this man will make himself
a titan of high finance?

All right.

Just got to settle with Duggan my
way.

You'll not settle anything with
Duggan.

Oh, tell me, Susan, huh?
You tell me what to do.

Tell me how I'm supposed to help
you, cos you kept this goddamn thing
a secret.

Now the son of a bitch
is turning the screw.

All I wanted was you and me.

Don't. Should have done this from
the start.

You don't know him.
He's about to know me.

Duggan!

Silas Duggan!

Whiskers too, or just a trim
for the barnet, nice rub of oil?

Oh, I'm not the one getting a
haircut, you chiselling piece of
shit.

Out of my affections for your good
lady, I'm reluctant to post you home
in pieces.

Leave now and we'll call this
parley... an idle fancy.

Fancy?

Duggan, I am real as hell. You've
had your last penny out of my lady.

You try to squeeze one farthing
more...

..I'm gonna see you paid in lead.

You dare cross me, dare whisper the
name Silas Duggan to your police whip
cracker,

dare even dream
about my handsome likeness...

..I shall skin you from nose to
toes.

Here shall I take my razor to your
pizzle, make a gelding of you.

Have you stood by mewling, as I
spatchcock your wife upon my bunk.

Now leave my shop, cowboy,

and tell your whore mistress I shall
bill her for the broken glass.

Mr Quint does all right for himself,
doesn't he, sir?

Maybe I should become a banker.

I'm just home from the dressmaker's.
I think he's in his study.

Mr Quint?

Mr Quint, it's the police.

Inspector?

If I may, sir.

Sergeant, join me?

Unless of course Mrs...Mrs Drake...

Oh, no. No.

Always time for just the one, sir.

Hm.

What is the purpose of our work,
Bennet?

The law?

In your opinion.

To protect, sir.

That's why I came to H Division,
to protect.

A man, blackmailed by a boy
for illicit affection,

takes anguished revenge on
another...

and then, stricken with guilt,

ends himself.

So, whom did the law protect today?

Far from protect, does it not occur
to you that, but for the law,

both Solomon Quint and Otto Roberts
would be alive?

What, then, sir?

Do we choose the laws
we see fit to enforce?

We have our obligations,
but our work today...

..if Mr Quint is any example...

..I begin to think a law that makes
a crime of human love

will police itself in pure...

despair.

- They're for the lady.
- Thank you.

There you go.

They're so beautiful.

You're quiet today.

Forgive me, my love.

The Inspector was turning
all philosophical on me.

Gave me an 'eadache.

We'll have words. Can't have him
wearing out that noggin.

The law's the law, right?

And policemen serve it.

We don't ask all the whys
and wherefores, do we?

Otherwise...well, what then?

But the Inspector, when it comes
to banging up poofs and Mary Anns...

To see him,
he's a man all scooped of belief.

Do you believe in it?

Hell's bells. Not you too?

Maybe he just understands
what it is to be lonely.

Say a law was made tomorrow...

..for you to love me was a crime.

They say it's filthy and unnatural.

Would you stop, Bennet?
Turn off your love like a gas tap,
just to obey?

I'd be the filthiest scofflaw
this land had ever seen.

Eggs! Get your eggs!

Bella?

Bella, it's you.
You're mistaken.

Who was that?
I don't know.

She seemed to know you.

There was a part of my life
before Tenter Street

full of cruelty and sadness.

She was a working girl?

Please can we go home now, Bennet?
There's a chill.

Of course, love.

You look beautiful.

You're drunk.

I thought it before I was drunk,
and I'll think it after I'm dead.

I've thought it every moment
since I first saw you.

You're all the true beauty
in this world.

You're bleeding.

You remember.

There was a night, me and you,
we took a balloon over Chicago.

It was all laid out.
It was electric, the city.

It was like starlight,
and I said some words to you.

You swore you would
weave our lives together...

..with threads of silk and gold.

I made myself believe
that I could live up to you.

I never cared about money.
It ain't about the money.

I mean, what do I have to give you?
I got nothing left.

I broke every promise I ever made
you, I brought you down to this.

And now I can't even protect you.

Matthew.
I ain't a man, Caitlin.

Don't.
I'm not a man.

Don't make this about your wounded
pride.

I see the way you look at me.
Oh, you see nothing!

The only thing you ever look to is
your next swashbuckling bloody
daydream.

You finish your bottle.
I will not indulge your self-pity.

They're in.

Come here.

I've been worried sick, Harry.

Flight!

Suicide, huh?
And the gun was in this hand?

Yes.

Phalanges of the digitus
medius and secondus.

Multiple fractures.

Could he pull the trigger?
With broken fingers?

He's forced to write a note.

Crack. Gun's jammed in his hand.

Boom.

Whoever wanted Mr Quint dead,
it sure as hell wasn't Mr Quint.

Madam, I understand this is a, er...

..painful time for you,
so forgive my bluntness.

Was your husband a man with enemies?

Only himself.

I no longer believe
his death to be suicide.

Can you help me understand
who might have killed him?

I...I have no idea. He...

..he was a gentle man.

I spoke to Franklin Stone
at Barings yesterday.

He intimated you and Mr Quint might
have been facing certain...marital
issues.

Sol and I were married for 20 years,
and we loved each other, Inspector.

If Sol had issues, they were
with Franklin Stone and not me.

What issues?
I know not.

"A matter of gravest principle,"
was all he said.

Some work he'd been conducting,
regarding the Argentine.

May I see this work?

All his files are at the House of
Barings.

He had some, but...some days ago
his folio was stolen.

And he did not report it?

I believe the culprit was...

..someone whose acquaintance
he sought not to expose.

A boy.

Do not judge him, Inspector Reid.
I do no such thing.

This boy.

David, David Goodbody?

I wouldn't know.

My husband was a private man,

and there were things
he saw fit not to share with me.

But I was never lied to, nor deceived
by him. Our marriage was...

An arrangement?

..a companionship.

And a loving one.

We each wanted for the other
happiness, wherever that may be
found,

and what is love, sir, if not that?

Quint's dead?
How does Fred Best know?

He talks to the coppers.

He says Quint was killed and...

Cunny bastard whores!

I'm sorry.

Why?

This should have been so easy.
It isn't over yet.

Quint's dead, David.

What's he gonna pay us now?
He's dead because they're afraid.

What we have is dangerous,
and they know it

and they want us to be afraid also.
You said we can do this.

You made me believe it,
and I believe it still.

Then we take 'em on?

We give 'em true cause to tremble.

I want those boys back in here.

Flight said Vincent was
hugger-mugger with Fred Best.
See what he knows.

Sir.

A word in your...

Left in an hurry, did we?

From Vincent.

My name is David Goodbody.

I wish to speak to Inspector Reid.

My sergeant saw you
selling yourself to a man.

Rather reckless of you now,
to present yourself thus.

I believe in justice, sir.

I have information...
concerning Mr Quint.

One of your sexual partners, is he
not? The victim of your blackmail?

Mr Quint and I only talked...

Ah.
..sir. It isn't a crime, is it,

for a lonely man
to find brief peace in talk?

No, not yet.

His folio was stolen.
Would you know anything about that?

No, sir.

And this talk concerned what?

He was afraid.

Said they were against him.

Who?
Said they'd destroyed his files,

and would cut out his tongue
just because he told the truth.

Who, boy?
Who is it would silence him?

I came here of my own accord, sir.

Will I be free to leave as such?

It is a dangerous game
you play, David.

We do what we have to, sir.

Why?
Love.

Vincent?
My love is unnameable.

You tell me who Quint feared,
then you may leave.

He mentioned the name Franklin.

Franklin Stone.

And the burden of Argentina.

That accusation is absurd.

I make no accusation,
Mr Stone, merely enquiry.

I paid Sol Quint to report.

What possible interest could I have
in destroying his work?

That, sir, is my enquiry.

Perhaps his analysis proved...
incommodious.

Concerning the Argentine,
for instance.

I believe this house had
significant investment there.

Perhaps you would like
to share with me

the name of he who flings
such night soil at my door.

Perhaps you would share with me
Mr Quint's recent work.

I should like full access to his
files.

Of course.

However, there is
the small matter of due process.

After all, Sol's death occurred
in Hampstead, did it not,

which is the jurisdiction
of S Division,

and we here fall under City of London
policing, not you...

..Metropolitan fellows.

See, the information in our files
is very sensitive, Inspector.

I really must insist on having
the correct warrants and assurances.

If it would be of any help, I could
enquire of Commissioner Bradford.

I'll be seeing him at my
club...later.

I understand Mr Quint's folio
went missing of late.

Must be bothersome to such
an assiduous custodian of his work.

Let's both hope it turns up soon,
shall we?

They told me the police would come.

They bloody telegraphed me,
those sodomites.

Make a fool of me,
and they will ruin this bank.

I need more time.

I need you to get me more time.

Freddie.

How's that mutton cooking?

Fred, listen to me.
If anything should happen...

What?

Look, tell me what you've gotten
into.

Eh? Even your telegram
sounded shit-scared.

If they come for David and me,
there's a folio.

Take it. Publish it.

Where?
It's stashed.

Where?!

Hold up, jug-ear. Where's the Mary
Ann? I know you've been meeting up.

Help him, please! Please help him!
What?

Go! Where?!

He's down by the tannery!

Oh! Aah!

Aah! Aah! Aah!

Shit.

Go.

The documents.

Give them to Fred.
You will not die. You will not die.

Now! Fred!

Go! Now.

I won't leave you.

I want...

..a hammock made of silk

in warm sun.

I want you to stay with me.

Please...

I, James Self...

..hereby confess to the murders

of Otto Roberts, Solomon Quint
and Vincent Featherwell.

I killed them

of my own full accord

for reasons

spiteful and indecent.

Bull! You killed on orders.

You wish to avoid the noose,
you will give me a name.

I killed them of my own full
accord...

..for reasons spiteful and indecent.

You are no less a messenger boy
than Roberts and Featherwell.

And did they ever question
those by whom they were sent,

or seek to comprehend
the message they delivered?

For whom do you kill?

Franklin Stone?

Why lay down your life?

Do you see, I am all that stands
between you and the rope? Tell me!

On my death, all I have,
plus a settlement of insurance,

will be directed to my boy.

Do you understand, law man?

The one goodness I may achieve
in this wretched life

will be the timely leaving of it.

Bring me your rope.

How is he?
How would you be?

David.

David, the man who killed Vincent
and Otto and Mr Quint,

he will not talk to me,

and so I need you
to tell me all that you can.

We needed money.

We serviced men.

Sometimes, if there was an
opportunity, we'd filch something,

a pocketbook, a briefcase,

then ransom it back.

The money was nothing to them...

..next to the world knowing them
for who they were.

And you took Mr Quint's folio?

But Vincent knew
this was different.

Mr Quint's work was...

Vincent said
it would make England shake.

The Argentine was crumbling and...
What about the Argentine?

I don't know.

He just said it wouldn't hold,
that Mr Quint saw a storm coming.

That's a goddamn lie.
Jackson, Jackson.

We just wanted to be free!
David.

David, where is Mr Quint's work?

Where?

What is it, Reid?
Is it about the Argentine?

The country's in debt. Vast debt.

They borrowed to cover themselves,
underwritten by the House of
Barings.

Argentina has run out of gold.
They can't pay.

Quint saw how deeply Barings was
exposed.

What the hell are you saying?

It's Quint's storm.
It's a massive default.

All investment in that country
is about to become worthless.

That's...that...that's horse shit.
There's silver and there's copper
in...

The country's bankrupt,
man. Look, it's all here in
black and white. Look.

What, you have interests there?
Since when?

Stone was allowing the bubble
to inflate. He was fuelling it.

Why, sir?

Ever more investment,
ever more for the bank.
Quint kept their correspondence.

Sir, all of this,
it's as crooked as fish hooks

but how does it give us proof of
murder?

This!

This is what you have been hunting
and killed for.

You know as well as I, you have
no proof of any crime at my hand.

James Self will break.

I know not a fellow by that name...

..and the only thing you can prove

is I acted in the best interests
of my bank and its investors.

By lying to them?

By burying this?

How could you believe
you'd avert disaster
by denying it was happening?

Not denying. Delaying.

An hour ago, I concluded the last
of my meetings with Lord Rothschild

and the Governor of the Bank of
England.

They have agreed a loan sufficient
to cover the debts of this House.

Had they not done so, had news of our
exposure in Argentina become known...

Do you not comprehend the nexus, sir?

The connections inexorable of this
age?

Do you imagine the telegram wires
encircling our globe

are like angels' harp strings
thrumming gently?

They are a garrotte, sir.

They necessitate
unorthodox stratagems for survival.

Had news broken earlier,
Barings would have been ruined.

Bank runs would have
spread like the plague.

The economic heartbeat of our city...
country, Empire, convulsing.

Would you have the whole world
wear the rags of Whitechapel?

I saved this bank.

And what of your investors
beyond this bank,

blindly stacking their livelihoods
upon your pyre?

You sound like Sol Quint,

and my obligations are not to them,
but to this House.

Then let the world see
how this House does business.

Your naivety demeans you.

Those whose fortunes I have saved
are free to think ill of me,

to shun me at the club...

..to divest themselves
of their sullied funds...

..in tender compassion give every
squalid pound to their stricken
fellow men.

Do you imagine they will? No.

Because love and justice are not
the primal forces of our world, sir.

Gold is the primal force of our
world.

You believe, as Sol did,
in right and wrong, but there is
only...

..profit and loss.

You believe in laws...

..but there are only ledgers.

Would that it were otherwise,
Inspector Reid.

Would that it were.

Would that my friend
worked down the hallway still,

free to take lunch with me
every Friday...

..as was our wont.

We all have our obligations.
Yes, Mr Stone.

That we do.

It is a meagre justice gets meted
today.

But if the world may not know
Franklin Stone for a murderer,

let them know him
for a merchant of fraud and greed.

I'll serve up that bastard's head,
stuffed with an apple.

This will take you as far as the
station.

From there your path is your own.

Vincent and I were in love.

There is no path without him
worth treading.

Yet tread on we must,
one step at a time.

Good luck, David.

You took my money and gambled
it on an empty hole in Argentina.

Get it back.

I tried.

I talked to Charlie.
Uh...yeah, he's in deep too.

We can't get it back.
Nobody can. It's, er...

..it's gone.

It's gone?

Jesus, Caitlin. Scream at me.
Scratch my eyes out.

Throw something.

I'll never give you
a scrap of feeling ever again.

I was just trying to get us out.

You get out.

Did you hear me?

Put down my whisky and get out.

I'm gonna think of something, OK?
I swear...

From this moment, I don't care
what you think or swear or do.

You betrayed me.

Do you have any idea what
you've done? You betrayed me.

You took our money, which I made,
and you threw it away.

You were right about one thing.

You aren't a man.

Get out.

Miss Cobden,
I hope you'll excuse the hour.

It is excused, Inspector.

You see, I, er...I have of late
had cause for...reflection.

Would you care to sit,

or would you prefer to share the
results of your ruminations from the
threshold?

It is a rare thing to find a friend
in this world, a...a true friend.

Rarer still one that might...
become more.

There are some that do
and risk all for it...

..and, even though the world
and all its might

might seek to snuff out
their...love...

they burn with it, fierce and
bright, like the sun.

The love that I have known,

the strength needed of me was not
there.

I failed, er...

..I failed my wife, Miss Cobden.

I would not have that pain
visited upon you.

You said the past was
naught but black magnetism.

If I allowed, you would help me
resist it.

I have...

..had enough of the darkness...

..if you would help me know the sun.

Well, Edmund...

..I do hope you're not going
to launch into sonnets

every time you wish to take me
for dinner and a dance.

I should find all the swooning
quite tiresome.

I will not be your mistress.
I will not stand

for shady encounters
and stolen assignations.

I, er...I cannot divorce...
Nor do I ask that.

But if we are to burn
fierce as the sun...

..then I should have us share our
light with the world entire.

Shall we?

Name me a price, boy.

It's named.

A bed for the night, Maggie, that's
all.

Each soul here,
when first they came,

had reason never to trust again.

It's the bloody Jews! Hang the noose
around the lot of the kike bastards!

Whoever seeks to set Jew
against Gentile would do the same
for the Irish.

Your love for him is not real, Bella.
It is.

No, it is not.

Who are you?

Will you have at me with your billy
club?

Bennet, no! Leave him be.
I'll explain.

I saw her, Bennet, with a man.