Ripper Street (2012–…): Season 5, Episode 2 - Episode #5.2 - full transcript
DOVE: Men of H Division,
I expect you to show your new leader
all the loyalty you showed your last.
SHINE: Who was this man Croker?
A wharfinger, a nobody.
A nobody ended Bennet Drake?
That is not a nobody.
MATHILDA: Father, Mr Swift.
Why would you put him there, in
the cellar that was once my home?
Drum?
They set a trap for him,
Shine and Frank Thatcher.
REID: They construct
this animal fight to draw us out,
but we shall see Shine's claws
pulled from him first.
DS Thatcher.
(CROWD JEERS)
CROWD: Reid! Reid! Reid!
Reid! Reid! Reid!
I want him found - now!
(TRAIN RUMBLES PAST)
- When?
- This morning.
Or the night before, perhaps.
We said fresh.
This man is in rigor.
Look, do you want him or not?
Will he serve?
Well, look at him. He's...he's rigid.
Can he be made to serve?
What do you want it for?
All will be well, Myrtle.
Only do as you promised, no more.
Of course, my love.
Promise me you will be vigilant.
Take no risks.
I will be the meekest man
you ever did see.
Last stop, calling Hackney Marshes,
ladies and gentlemen.
(CLOCK CHIMES)
First day, is it?
Handyman, to work about the house.
Name?
Waters, Leonard.
In you go.
You may think me ignorant,
Drum, but I ain't no imbecile.
You and your Mathilda,
her hand on your Thomas,
tugging your loyalty from you,
plotting how best we here
might be embarrassed.
Come on, then.
When you say "we", Frank,
is it, in fact, you you talk of?
Are your knackers still chafed, are they,
from that pony's backside?
SHINE: Thatcher.
What horseplay is this?
We have urgent business to go about
and you two stop for a cuddle.
Thatcher, explain yourself.
The whole world knows it's this
shandygaff who's blown on our plans.
You'd best do a better job
of proving that with your words
than you have with your fists, Frank.
SHINE: No, Thatcher.
I mean, explain to me how you have
allowed this fight to develop.
As I say, Inspector,
it's this wet-soaped clown!
No, Sergeant. I know why you might
hope to batter the man.
I am more concerned that
you have found yourself unable.
You see, his reach is longer than yours
and he is a sight more calculating.
Now, if you are to fight such a man,
you must know before you begin
that you will win.
Oh!
I do that by way of demonstration
of how you might in future
overcome your disadvantages.
(DRUM COUGHS)
But you do not mind, do you,
Sergeant Drum?
What's a pair of sore knackers
between comrades?
Or are we not comrades no more?
We are, Mr Shine.
And I'm glad to hear it.
Thatcher, you are to repeat
such accusations in the future,
you will do so with articles of proof.
Drummond...
(GROANS)
...you are to deny them,
you best find men
who believe such denials.
Now, I am to Hackney, to tell Mr Dove
how we are made monkeys of.
When Mr Dove was a boy,
I made sure he sat for breakfast
at the same time each morning.
This boy must do likewise.
He cannot learn punctuality otherwise,
and if he does not learn punctuality,
he cannot learn discipline.
Yes, miss.
- You are Waters?
- Yes, ma'am.
Why do you call me "ma'am"?
I'm not married.
"Miss Chudleigh" will serve.
As you prefer, miss.
You make the fire for the master's study?
I do.
Then be sure to knock.
(IN DISTINCT CHATTER)
DOVE: Check the brothels in case
the woman Hart returns to her former work.
DOVE: Come!
Coal for the fire, Mr Dove.
- Of course. Mr Waters, is it not?
- It is, sir.
Well, don't let us stop you.
And they had stripped Sergeant Thatcher?
All but for that flashman's hat he sports
and the carnations in his gob.
Who can say why they love Ed Reid?
Although it must be said
it makes good copy.
I'd have you make better,
Inspector, and catch him.
You have the town rousted?
The brothels, in case the woman
Hart returns to her former work?
Oh, yes, Mr Dove.
All gaming houses
for word of the American.
Mr Dove, do you doubt my vigour?
Of course not, Inspector.
Then perhaps you will answer me something.
If I can.
These dogfights.
Reid and Jackson emerge from
wherever they are hid for dogfights.
So I understand.
Or, rather, one particular fight-dog
and one particular man
who has thieved that fight-dog.
Why does Edmund Reid have
such an itch in his britches
that he breaks cover to trap him?
(SCUTTLE SCRAPES)
Thank you, Waters.
(CONVERSATION CONTINUES)
(TOY CLINKS KS)
Hush, Connor. I am a friend.
DOVE: Go on.
SHINE: Whereas I now understand it,
Reid had his own theories
on this cannibal killer.
He disagrees it was this man
Croker killed those men.
Bennet Drake also.
He would be misguided
in that belief, however.
Seems he clings to it with
some determination, however.
Desk Sergeant Drummond,
I'd bet my liver it is he
who forewarned Reid.
You have no proof of such betrayal?
Well, then, you leave him in peace.
That station house needs
balance and stability,
not fear and retribution.
As you wish, Mr Dove.
Good day to you, sir.
Inspector Shine.
- Miss Chudleigh.
- Yes, Mr Dove.
Oh! To your room!
Your guardian and father
must have peace for his work.
Wait, Miss Chudleigh.
I have business this morning
in a place that,
were I still a small boy, well,
it would fill me with wonder.
See him readied, if you please.
The two of you will join me.
Yes, Mr Dove.
"Mr Edmund Reid
may have cause to reflect
"on whether, as H Division's head man,
"he ever knew the popularity he now does
"as its most urgent quarry."
- The people are fickle.
- Oh, they are that.
It seems you too are also
on the road to redemption.
Listen to this.
"More enquiring minds might also
ask themselves the question
"of what need and purpose
it is now sees Miss Hart,
"a woman who once gave great
civic care to her community,
"now united with Mr Reid
in their fugitive status."
- This is Miss Castello's pen?
- JACKSON: She herself.
What is it irks you, Mr judge?
Is it that she does not even once
make mention of your notoriety?
Not as if she never once met me.
Perhaps you are easily forgot?
Perhaps she does not know
which name to call you.
Oh, aren't you all so cute?
Maybe I ought to hand you in myself.
You know, broker an amnesty,
live in peace, alone.
Still, I am entirely uncertain how
to respond to your notoriety.
What am I to make of
your bizarre requests?
You have them?
JACKSON: The falsies?
A healthy selection.
MIMI: Yes, but to what end?
SUSAN: Pulling the tiger's tail.
- This is the first step, darling.
- No, not good enough. Please.
Will one of you explain?
MIMI: Your latest victim?
REID: Natural causes, Miss Morton.
Let me rephrase that. Have you killed him?
I said we should have waited
till she'd gone home.
Excuse me. I will not be spoken of
as if I am some irksome landlady.
If we wait any longer, this stiff's
going to be beyond purpose.
And what purpose that?
They wish to make a scandal,
Miss Morton.
Show Augustus Dove
the limits of his control.
- And for that you require dental...
- We require teeth.
oh!
Good God. Do you intend
to make another victim?
JACKSON: We need
to break the mortis first.
(CRUNCHING)
(CRUNCHING)
OK, move around one.
Could be a child's parlour game.
(CRUNCHING)
All right. Do you have them?
REID: I believe the records had
had their uses when I took them.
I hadn't anticipated imitation, however.
JACKSON: Gonna have to screw down hard,
prize the flesh away.
- MIMI: How charming.
- SUSAN: Yes.
Men's work, I believe. Shall we?
Let us.
- (MEN SHOUT)
- (DOG BARKS)
I will stop just a moment or two.
Then we shall be on our way.
Mr Dove?
Appointments are there to be made.
But you, it seems, feel yourself above
the simple act of a knock upon a door.
Fugitives from justice
conduct themselves with
more refinement, do they?
Mr Dove, surely you understand.
I hear that the former Police
Detective Edmund Reid
is cheered to the skies
as he runs through our streets.
Well, that is an event worthy
of report, in my opinion.
And yet, Miss Castello,
but three editions past,
you penned the report,
true facts of how this man, whose
reputation you now burnish,
most likely placed a defenceless
old man in an underground dungeon
and left him there to starve and rot,
and then, here today, you make
as if he might in fact be a folk hero.
Our readers are fickle, sir,
and it is they who pay my wages.
No!
This neighbourhood, the people
require simple paradigms,
good, bad, justice, villainy.
These ideas become
confused in their heads,
well, the social fabric of these streets
is sewn with a brittle thread.
That thread breaks, the carapace
of civility falls away with it
and what will be left but naked savagery?
Edmund Reid did evil.
Long Susan Hart did evil.
Captain Homer Jackson likewise.
If you wish to remain
friend to the police,
that is the story you ought to tell.
Do you threaten me, Mr Dove?
Well, you interpret it
how you wish, Miss Castello.
But you see it done.
(DOG BARKS)
See how they love to play, Connor?
(LAUGHS)
(DOG BARKS)
I fear only that the boy
will become spoiled, sir.
There is nothing spoiling in joy,
Miss Chudleigh.
All young boys need a dog.
Do you know, Connor, when I was
only a little older than you are now,
I lost my mother and was alone.
But then I was found and cared for
by a man who showed me
that a way may be made
from the lonely boy I was
to a new life - a better life.
Connor, I intend to be that man for you.
You have my oath on it.
Until you yourself are become a man,
it will be my greatest endeavour
to see you do not lack for a single thing.
I will be a father to you.
You choose your favourite, Connor,
then we shall bring it home.
I thought to settle your invoice
in cash, Mr Sparks.
We are grateful, Mr Dove.
As am I for your efforts.
The beasts were not too hard to find?
Sir. This is Jamrach's.
There is not a creature alive that
we here cannot locate for you.
And the other conditions we agreed?
Full anonymity, sir, as promised.
Thatcher.
Inspector. My apologies, sir.
A snitch reports, sir, and I thought
his intelligence worth a coin.
That being?
Captain Jackson. He and Miss Hart.
I mean, it's not as if
she was the sole focus
of his ardour down the years.
If we roust each and every
twat that man has inspected,
the pair of us will be old and grey.
Yes, sir. I know, sir.
But there was one other
who, word had it, he stayed loyal to.
Only for a little while, but the talk
was that she kept him in order.
Look, the pair of them were tight
till Miss Susan got locked down
and then he made his choice.
You have paid a snitch
for old gossip, Thatcher?
No, sir, I paid him
because he brought word
that this other is
once more in Whitechapel.
Who this lady?
Well-to-do. Fine silk, fine hair,
fine carriage, you know.
- Slum tourist?
- Yeah, of a kind.
What kind?
The dramatic, sir. Playhouses.
Your games are ended, then?
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Are you expecting visitors, Mimi?
THATCHER: Oi, Police!
You will open these doors!
In there!
- (KNOCK ON DOOR)
- Open!
Open up, I say!
Police!
- Open this door!
- Quick, up into the lighting rigs.
- Miss Morton?
- Yes.
We've come for a show, lady.
One man here, other stage door.
Watch your step.
- There are lights?
- There are.
(SWITCHES CLICK)
- Look at that, a theatre.
- Hm.
So, it is the case that you and
Captain Jackson once stepped out?
Stepped out?
Hm, that's a delicate phrase
for a man in a velvet collar.
SHINE: Well, we know you theatricals,
how you like to use words
to describe a thing that ain't
actually the thing itself.
Oh, you mean a simile?
Although "stepped out"
is perhaps more of a metaphor.
Perhaps you'd best describe
the thing itself?
All right, then, let me ask you this.
- Were you...
- Mm-hm?
...and the man most widely
known as Homer Jackson
once joined by cock and cunny?
Oh. Oh, so much clearer.
Language is so much better for
an accurate expression, I find.
THATCHER: Well, then, miss. Were you?
Yes.
My God, that is a loathsome hat.
When did contact cease?
When he chose to join that cock
to his wife's cunny instead.
SHINE: You got friends visiting,
Miss Morton?
Do you see us ready
to admit audiences yet?
No?
That is because there is
a renovation taking place
and because I have yet
to establish for myself
how best a collapsing wall
may be buttressed
and my plastering is not
all I'd wish it to be.
I must employ workmen,
and workmen, not unlike policemen,
are fond of tea and biscuits.
It's not the only items
we police have a liking for.
(SLAP)
(WHISPERS) Wait, wait, wait, wait.
You know, Miss Morton,
you grow ever more fetching to my eye.
Now, it is in your interest
to be candid with me, lady.
The risk of a fire in a place
so full of the flammable.
My theatre burns, that fire will
not stop till it meets the river.
Well, best you tell me, then.
Have you seen him?
Have you hid him?
I'll tell you something
about Captain Homer Jackson.
I'm sure a great many believe
he cuts quite the dash
with his cool eye
for all that the world, in its
foolishness, considers of value.
And I'll admit, such a cynicism
quite had me taken for a while.
(LIGHTER CLICKS)
But that nonchalance is just a pose
behind which he hides a tearful,
fearful, treacherous heart.
Further to which,
for a man to spend so much of his life
in the service of his manhood,
when that manhood is,
well,
more of a boyhood.
You get my meaning, Mr Shine.
Thatcher.
With me, Thatcher.
Run along.
(SIGHS)
Miss Morton, any damage incurred
while you keep us here,
I will foot the bill myself.
And what will you do, Miss Hart?
Set armed men to rob another train?
Now, let us hope it doesn't
come to that, all right?
Are you OK, Mimi?
I will not have you soft-soap me, either.
Perhaps, after all, we have
overstayed our welcome.
Jedediah Shine is not a man I would
have set any further sights on you.
Come. It's becoming dark. We may go.
Find ourselves alternative concealment.
(LAUGHS) And then, when you're caught
and your severed heads are
displayed on the iron railings
that line the new station house
on Leman Street,
I shall have eternal guilt
to add to the catalogue of vexations
I suffer
as a result of you coming back
into my life.
No.
This profanity is part of some strategy
that, as its end, sees you restored,
these two gone away, and that man
Dove punished for all he has done?
It is no easy task, Miss Morton,
but, yes, that is the goal.
Best you and your merry band
get about it, then, Mr Reid.
Where you go, you trust these people?
They are not one-time lovers of mine
but, that aside, yes, I do.
What am I today?
The world's chopping block?
I want to know you're safe, is all.
Just get about your work, Husband,
and I shall get about mine.
(WHISPERS) Leonard. Myrtle.
Miss Susan. Quick, before you're seen.
Look at you, Myrtle.
You must be near term.
I am, Miss Susan. And you?
Is all safe with you?
Oh, you must not fear, neither of you.
You do quite enough for me as it is.
But there's never enough we could
do for you, miss. Not never.
Tell me, Leonard, how fares my boy?
Oh, but he is a stout and fine
young man, as only could be expected.
He is well, then?
He is well cared for, certainly.
But not...
."happy?
How could a boy be happy
without his ma?
But he is kept on a short line.
The woman Chudleigh.
The governess?
As fierce and shrewish a harridan
as ever scolded a boy.
But Mr Dove, he has some feeling
for the boy, I believe.
Took him to Jamrach's today
and bought him a puppy,
so to ease his loneliness.
But, Leonard, do you think...
do you see a way when the time
comes that he might be taken away?
There are Westminster police
on guard day and night,
but the woman Chudleigh
must eat and sleep,
and the gardens.
Mr Dove's gardens, they are bordered
at the back only by the marshes
and that puppy must be exercised.
I see, Leonard.
Albeit slight,
there are opportunities there.
There are.
LONG SUSAN: How do you find Mr Dove?
Too upright by half, as you ask,
and he is distracted by something
which makes him fearful anxious.
Leonard, do you think it's possible,
whilst always, of course,
being most careful,
that you may discover what it is
that makes him so anxious?
Please, Miss Susan.
He already risks so much.
What if he is found out? Leonard?
No, now, come, Myrtle.
We must remind ourselves of all
this good lady has done for us.
I was only a daily fix-it,
paid a penny to clear the guttering at
Tenter Street when the leaves got in
and she encouraged my love for you,
saw that you need earn
in that way no more,
handed us the deposit
for our home here.
Hush, Leonard. You need not go on.
But...
he's my Leonard,
and I would be lost without him.
He means to name the child
after you, if it is a girl.
And even if it is not.
Leonard!
A boy named Susan?
Strong a name as ever there was.
Um...
The, er...the house,
entrances, bedchambers of the occupants.
Do you think you might be
able to draw it for me?
I'm sure I may.
Here, the back stairwell.
This, Mr Dove's rooms,
and this, where your Connor sleeps.
That's the way, brother. Almost home.
(WHISPERS) Right, quick, over here.
Well, do we say a prayer?
Pray that one deception
is believed over the other.
Now, I go to watch for Mathilda's candle.
- I'm sorry, Drum.
- It's not you that lumped me, Tilda.
I might as well have, however.
My father would be grateful
for such loyalty.
They know it was me told you
and you that told him
and he that tied Frank Thatcher
starkers to that pony.
- I am watched.
- By Mr Shine?
He wishes to dice me for his cooking pot.
I shall not ask it of you again, Drum.
Come. Please do not sleep
on the floor tonight.
Tilda, do you not fear
for what folk will say?
Do you not want to be...proper?
Proper? I'm not sure
I know what that means.
But I certainly do not care for others'
definition of it.
All that is proper and true
is that this is good.
All else can go hang.
- Come, Samuel.
- No. No, no, Tilda.
It's not that I lack the desire.
It does not feel right.
In your heart?
No.
Then we must stay true to that.
(TRAIN RUMBLES PAST)
(SHOUTING)
Move! Move! Oi! Oi!
Move! Keep them back.
MAN: We are not safe!
WOMAN: My children are not safe
in their beds!
DOVE: What's that you say?
POLICEMAN: A new body with bite marks
has been found, Mr Dove.
Another! Where found? By whom?
The wire says only that
they need your urgent attendance
at Leman Street, sir.
Telephone Leman Street.
They are to expect me within the hour.
And wire Jamrach's
for the latest shipping times.
- Now!
- Yes, Mr Dove.
Miss Chudleigh.
Good morning.
Waters. The scuttle.
(DOG WHINES)
Of course, Miss Chudleigh.
DOVE: Where is it he was found?
Yard off the back
of Half Moon Passage, sir.
That is but a spit from this address here.
The murdering maniacs
of this town lack all respect.
This man Croker, your case
was made sound, Mr Dove,
for there is fearful likeness here.
- You will send for a surgeon.
- To what end, sir?
For full autopsy! For certainty!
Certainty? Well...
...that is a luxury,
in my experience, sir.
Nonetheless.
Sergeant Drummond,
you will please send to the Yard.
Yes, Mr Dove.
Sirs, the press are come.
Mr Dove!
Might I have some confirmation
concerning the dead man's body
recovered this morning
from Half Moon Passage?
Has this force once more assumed
their tormentor dead when he is not?
There are over 15 witnesses all
describing the work done to the body.
What use our word on it, then, girl?
Mr Dove?
You are the ranking officer here.
May I have it from you?
Assistant Commissioner?
Sergeant Drummond,
will you brew a pot of tea
and show Miss Castello
to the private office above?
That is if Mr Shine
will allow for the loan of it.
Be my guest.
I am to be granted private interview,
am I?
Perhaps you'll begin by telling me on
what evidence you named the man Croker
and if, as it now seems likely, it was
not he performed these savage acts,
you will now be reopening
the investigation
into the murder of Inspector Bennet Drake.
I shall not be taking questions on
this matter until autopsy is met.
Then why bring me here?
Why not simply make your denial
and cast me out?
You believe yourself
a good journalist, I am sure.
Good, I mean in that you understand
the moral imperative of the truth.
I do.
Perhaps you believe I have, in the past,
been eager to hide such truth from you.
Well, I am tearing it up
from the roots now.
That is a copy, yours to take.
But what you will find is that
the fate to have befallen
Mr Theodore Swift,
buried alive by Edmund Reid,
was far from an isolated occurrence.
Within, the testimony of a man
who once served him.
Proof of this station house's
past iniquity.
Corroborated, extra-judicial murder.
You wish to fill your next
front page with speculation.
You be my guest.
But this, this is fact.
And were you not to print fact,
Miss Castello,
well, I'd need to ask myself
why that was.
Care to share, Mr Dove?
All in good time...
Mr Shine.
BOBBY GRACE: Despite
our sternest efforts,
neither myself, Inspector Drake
nor Captain Jackson
could break down the iron grille
which Inspector Reid
had locked behind him.
He would not open it and...and
set about the suspect, Mr Buckley.
Mr Reid took Mr Buckley's
head between his hands and...
Hold the evening run!
(DOOR CREAKS SHUT)
What?
Well, you've made the front page.
Just not all of it.
JACKSON: Jesus, Reid.
Horace Buckley. They have everything.
Oh, Mathilda.
No, no, no.
REID: Mathilda.
BOBBY GRACE:
...he would not open it and...
and set about the suspect, Mr Buckley.
Mr Reid took Mr Buckley's
head between his hands
and...
Well, I cannot think of
a better word for it,
popped it against the wooden pillar.
I believe Mr Buckley died
after the second strike.
SHINE: Mr Thatcher, what has
befallen this neighbourhood
that it is a-burst with women
who wish to hide their information
from the police?
I don't know what it is, sir.
Perhaps you'd best tell me,
then, Miss Castello.
I am accustomed to those of your sex
being a sight more pliant than this.
Our Assistant Commissioner Dove
has given you intelligence
that now sees fugitive Reid damned
in the pages where he was
so recently celebrated.
And what if it were?
Hm.
Do you see?
There you go again,
and I tire of it, girlie.
Inspector, sir...
What? You object to my questioning?
No.
You see, miss...
there is a battle currently played out,
its field of conflict
the pages of your dirty rag!
Right?
Now,
its antagonists are
my Mr Dove
and Mr Edmund Reid.
(GASPS)
(SOBS)
Please! I do not know what you mean.
Do you not? Huh?
It's that corpse. It's that corpse.
Yeah? Which all assume is
your cannibal-killer back about it.
It is not.
Mr Dove...
...he is a clever cat, now,
but he ain't seen
near enough dead bodies.
Them bite marks, hm?
The yellow round the edges?
No lividity, see.
Carried out a good long day or so
after death came down.
In other words, a hoax.
The skilled hand of Ed Reid's Yankee.
Now, what I drive at is this.
Why? Hm? Why?
What is the message
Reid sends the
Assistant Commissioner of Police?
- What is it? What is it?
- Please! I don't know!
- What is it?
- Inspector! Please!
You moan like a bitch,
I shall slap you like one.
You lack the stomach for my work.
Get out.
And shut the door behind you.
(GASPS)
Get out.
- Please, Mr Thatcher, please!
- Get out now!
Shut the door behind you!
(GASPS)
Mm. You speak.
Mm.
Or you shall know the full majesty
of Jedediah Shine's displeasure.
It is his brother.
Whose'?
Mr Dove's.
You be clear now.
Be clear.
What does Mr Dove's brother do?
Reid believed him to have been the killer,
hidden away for his mania,
escaping to murder,
and Mr Dove, by necessity, moving
mountains to see blame shifted
and that man protected.
Where's this man now?
(SOBS) I don't know.
Mr Dove, Mr Dove,
his...
his displeasure at the sight
of that hoax corpse...
...that might tell you something, miss.
You see, he does not know, neither,
where this killer brother of his
is now hid.
His fear is that Reid will trap him first.
(SOBS)
Now.
(CHAIR CREAKS)
Come on, you're all right,
you're all right.
Now, an exemplary hack, such as yourself,
would not entertain such stories
without also gathering
your own evidence, would you?
(SUBS) N()_
Then you shall hand
that evidence to me now, hey?
(SOBS)
Oh, shh.
(CREAKS)
(SOBS)
(SOBS)
JACKSON: Young Leonard took
some risk in thieving this for you.
REID: Jamrach's?
It's the menagerie.
Leonard told me Dove
had bought him a puppy.
Well, these ain't puppies.
Canis lupus lupus,
the Middle Russian forest wolf.
I have heard tales of such wolves
in such forests.
Augustus Dove, philanthropic benefactor?
He does not draw breath without strategy.
Such rare beasts, coming in from
the Thames for tax and clearance.
Word of their arrival will be
seething on that dockside.
A dockside well known to
the creature Nathaniel Dove
and where he's surely hid somewhere.
It is not such a leap of faith
to imagine him being drawn
to the same creatures who have
so indelibly marked his soul.
The same creatures as took
their mother from them,
brought to London from one brother
to draw the other one out.
They are a lure.
REID: Granted, Dove hopes to use
these creatures to trap his brother,
we may use them also
to set a trap for them both.
(WOLVES WHINE)
(BARKING)
(BARKS)
(WHIMPERS)
(BARKS)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
Tilda! Tilda, please do not be frightened.
Will you take this to Drummond?
Within are instructions.
If he follows the instructions
and brings men,
they will capture this monster,
the true beast of Whitechapel.
Much then will be revealed, and I hope...
I hope that we may return
to our lives together.
And that would be a good thing, would it?
Yes, Mathilda, it would.
The world will be safer.
Your Uncle Bennet, others too,
they will have their justice.
And what of you, Father?
All of which you stand accused?
There is much explaining I would do.
I do not say that I am blameless.
- But there is mitigation?
- I hope so.
Mr Buckley was not a big man.
Not nearly as big as you, Father.
Mathilda.
Mathilda, please, we will...
talk of that man in due course,
but first, please hand
this note to Drummond.
You broke his head open on a wood pillar.
You smashed his brains from him.
There is a testimony from Bobby Grace.
No shard of glass, no necessary
defence of yourself. Only murder.
A defenceless man killed
in cold blood by your hand.
I was told that you were dead,
dead for all that he had done to you,
terrible, dread things
done to you in his captivity.
But he did not...
Yes, but I was told this.
I was assured this. I cannot be blamed.
He took you from me, Mathilda!
Do you not see?
No!
He kept me safe!
From you.
Mathilda, Mathilda, I will explain.
All will be explained.
The Captain. Susan Hart,
she who lied to me.
But first...
The note. Tell Drummond.
All will be right again.
- (MAN SHOUTS)
- Please.
(WOMAN LAUGHS)
Must I take you by the throat again,
pin you to the wall and accuse you
of all the evil ever born?
Mr Reid. I will talk to her.
My word on it.
Should we live, be free,
I will not leave this city
until I have made her
understand the truth.
No. Not you.
Not by my side. You are no ally of mine.
Get to Leonard. He has done
all he might for us now.
Get him out of there.
We'll meet you after.
(WOLF HOWLS)
- (WINDOW SMASHES)
- (BIRDS SCREECH)
Shh.
Aw! my'
(WOLF WHINES)
Shh.
Oh! my'
My, but ain't you both beauties, hey?
- (DOOR CLICKS)
- (WOLVES BARK AND GROWL)
(WOLVES SNARL)
NATHANIEL: Gustus?
(WOLVES SNARL)
I'm glad to have found you, brother.
- Have you...?
- It doesn't matter.
But I was certain
the news of such rare beasts landing
on this shoreline would draw you out.
Nathaniel, there is a savaged man found.
- It is not...by your action?
- Gustus, I have not...
Felt the hunger?
Well,
I feel it, yes.
But I feel also that it may be withstood.
Then I am glad.
They are magnificent.
Oh. Gustus.
They are perfect.
(WOLVES GROWL AND BARK)
They would offer you their affection
and yet they fear me.
Perhaps they see you for what you are.
Calm, brother.
Hello, Mr Reid.
Captain.
You seem very sure of yourself, sir.
Of certain things, Mr Reid, yes, I am.
And so how will you explain
your kinship with this man
when the men of H Division arrive?
Gustus?
The men of H Division cannot arrive
if they are not instructed to do so.
And yet they are so instructed.
By these instructions?
Those you handed to your daughter?
Drummond.
Not he alone.
The two, she and he.
Your Mathilda, her world
now so terribly shaken
by the sudden understanding
of her father's true character.
She understands where her future lies,
with Samuel Drummond and with
the police, with the true police.
- I'm gonna shoot the pair of them.
- No, wait, wait!
(WOLVES WHINE AND BARK)
DOVE: Mr Reid is wise, Captain.
Gustus!
Do not think me ignorant
of how the intelligence of these
wolves' importation came to you.
Your wife's friend Mr Waters.
Oh, Christ.
He will leave a pregnant widow, I believe.
(sums COCK)
Gustus, please!
No! No!
If I kill him, there is no way back
for you. No case ever to be made.
But your boy will be well.
I give you my word.
He will grow strong,
live in bright light and clean air.
And if I put a bullet
in your head, Mr Dove?
I've left instruction with
Miss Chudleigh, should I not return.
She cares for children,
but she has no care for them,
if you understand my meaning.
(WOLVES SNARL AND BARK)
(WOLVES WHINE)
JACKSON: Now what?
He would have sent word.
- It's gone midnight.
- Myrtle, it is Leonard.
- (SOBS)
- Dear, sweet Leonard.
LONG SUSAN: And what harm
can come to such a man?
Take your murderous hands off me.
You are death.
Out, woman.
Get out!
(SOBS)
(MYRTLE SOBS)
(FLOORBOARD CREAKS)
All that you have heard, Tilda...
...all that you must feel.
But you know this, the love that I feel
for you, it only swells further.
This is Mr Reid's bed.
No, Samuel.
It is ours now.
(GUN COCKS)
Evening to you, sirs.
- THATCHER: Madam.
- JACKSON: Thatcher.
I always knew you were
the one with the brains.
Cadogan's Dental Supplies.
Ain't none of you in need of falsies,
last time I saw you.
And there's a chewed-up cadaver
in your dead room, Captain,
which is now pronounced a hoax.
Fine work, Thatcher.
I'm sure your new master
will see you rewarded.
Where is Shine?
Drowning in his own poison
and conceit, for all I care.
So, do you have three sets
of irons with you?
I do not.
Mr Thatcher,
what may we do for you, then?
He is as wicked a man as any I've met.
Shine?
Despite your low opinion of me, Mr Reid,
I would see some good done
in this uniform.
Now, I don't know if all that's now said
of you three is true or no...
...but I will not serve him.
Do you mean to help us, then, son?
There is fishing and there is peace.
You will live quiet, easy...
...until all that may harm us
will be put to rest.
Thank you, Gustus.
NATHANIEL: The hunger.
There are days I feel it abate.
I've not seen a single soul.
It is only until Edmund Reid
is reckoned for.
We have need for an extra pair of hands.
You should have stayed away.
I expect you to show your new leader
all the loyalty you showed your last.
SHINE: Who was this man Croker?
A wharfinger, a nobody.
A nobody ended Bennet Drake?
That is not a nobody.
MATHILDA: Father, Mr Swift.
Why would you put him there, in
the cellar that was once my home?
Drum?
They set a trap for him,
Shine and Frank Thatcher.
REID: They construct
this animal fight to draw us out,
but we shall see Shine's claws
pulled from him first.
DS Thatcher.
(CROWD JEERS)
CROWD: Reid! Reid! Reid!
Reid! Reid! Reid!
I want him found - now!
(TRAIN RUMBLES PAST)
- When?
- This morning.
Or the night before, perhaps.
We said fresh.
This man is in rigor.
Look, do you want him or not?
Will he serve?
Well, look at him. He's...he's rigid.
Can he be made to serve?
What do you want it for?
All will be well, Myrtle.
Only do as you promised, no more.
Of course, my love.
Promise me you will be vigilant.
Take no risks.
I will be the meekest man
you ever did see.
Last stop, calling Hackney Marshes,
ladies and gentlemen.
(CLOCK CHIMES)
First day, is it?
Handyman, to work about the house.
Name?
Waters, Leonard.
In you go.
You may think me ignorant,
Drum, but I ain't no imbecile.
You and your Mathilda,
her hand on your Thomas,
tugging your loyalty from you,
plotting how best we here
might be embarrassed.
Come on, then.
When you say "we", Frank,
is it, in fact, you you talk of?
Are your knackers still chafed, are they,
from that pony's backside?
SHINE: Thatcher.
What horseplay is this?
We have urgent business to go about
and you two stop for a cuddle.
Thatcher, explain yourself.
The whole world knows it's this
shandygaff who's blown on our plans.
You'd best do a better job
of proving that with your words
than you have with your fists, Frank.
SHINE: No, Thatcher.
I mean, explain to me how you have
allowed this fight to develop.
As I say, Inspector,
it's this wet-soaped clown!
No, Sergeant. I know why you might
hope to batter the man.
I am more concerned that
you have found yourself unable.
You see, his reach is longer than yours
and he is a sight more calculating.
Now, if you are to fight such a man,
you must know before you begin
that you will win.
Oh!
I do that by way of demonstration
of how you might in future
overcome your disadvantages.
(DRUM COUGHS)
But you do not mind, do you,
Sergeant Drum?
What's a pair of sore knackers
between comrades?
Or are we not comrades no more?
We are, Mr Shine.
And I'm glad to hear it.
Thatcher, you are to repeat
such accusations in the future,
you will do so with articles of proof.
Drummond...
(GROANS)
...you are to deny them,
you best find men
who believe such denials.
Now, I am to Hackney, to tell Mr Dove
how we are made monkeys of.
When Mr Dove was a boy,
I made sure he sat for breakfast
at the same time each morning.
This boy must do likewise.
He cannot learn punctuality otherwise,
and if he does not learn punctuality,
he cannot learn discipline.
Yes, miss.
- You are Waters?
- Yes, ma'am.
Why do you call me "ma'am"?
I'm not married.
"Miss Chudleigh" will serve.
As you prefer, miss.
You make the fire for the master's study?
I do.
Then be sure to knock.
(IN DISTINCT CHATTER)
DOVE: Check the brothels in case
the woman Hart returns to her former work.
DOVE: Come!
Coal for the fire, Mr Dove.
- Of course. Mr Waters, is it not?
- It is, sir.
Well, don't let us stop you.
And they had stripped Sergeant Thatcher?
All but for that flashman's hat he sports
and the carnations in his gob.
Who can say why they love Ed Reid?
Although it must be said
it makes good copy.
I'd have you make better,
Inspector, and catch him.
You have the town rousted?
The brothels, in case the woman
Hart returns to her former work?
Oh, yes, Mr Dove.
All gaming houses
for word of the American.
Mr Dove, do you doubt my vigour?
Of course not, Inspector.
Then perhaps you will answer me something.
If I can.
These dogfights.
Reid and Jackson emerge from
wherever they are hid for dogfights.
So I understand.
Or, rather, one particular fight-dog
and one particular man
who has thieved that fight-dog.
Why does Edmund Reid have
such an itch in his britches
that he breaks cover to trap him?
(SCUTTLE SCRAPES)
Thank you, Waters.
(CONVERSATION CONTINUES)
(TOY CLINKS KS)
Hush, Connor. I am a friend.
DOVE: Go on.
SHINE: Whereas I now understand it,
Reid had his own theories
on this cannibal killer.
He disagrees it was this man
Croker killed those men.
Bennet Drake also.
He would be misguided
in that belief, however.
Seems he clings to it with
some determination, however.
Desk Sergeant Drummond,
I'd bet my liver it is he
who forewarned Reid.
You have no proof of such betrayal?
Well, then, you leave him in peace.
That station house needs
balance and stability,
not fear and retribution.
As you wish, Mr Dove.
Good day to you, sir.
Inspector Shine.
- Miss Chudleigh.
- Yes, Mr Dove.
Oh! To your room!
Your guardian and father
must have peace for his work.
Wait, Miss Chudleigh.
I have business this morning
in a place that,
were I still a small boy, well,
it would fill me with wonder.
See him readied, if you please.
The two of you will join me.
Yes, Mr Dove.
"Mr Edmund Reid
may have cause to reflect
"on whether, as H Division's head man,
"he ever knew the popularity he now does
"as its most urgent quarry."
- The people are fickle.
- Oh, they are that.
It seems you too are also
on the road to redemption.
Listen to this.
"More enquiring minds might also
ask themselves the question
"of what need and purpose
it is now sees Miss Hart,
"a woman who once gave great
civic care to her community,
"now united with Mr Reid
in their fugitive status."
- This is Miss Castello's pen?
- JACKSON: She herself.
What is it irks you, Mr judge?
Is it that she does not even once
make mention of your notoriety?
Not as if she never once met me.
Perhaps you are easily forgot?
Perhaps she does not know
which name to call you.
Oh, aren't you all so cute?
Maybe I ought to hand you in myself.
You know, broker an amnesty,
live in peace, alone.
Still, I am entirely uncertain how
to respond to your notoriety.
What am I to make of
your bizarre requests?
You have them?
JACKSON: The falsies?
A healthy selection.
MIMI: Yes, but to what end?
SUSAN: Pulling the tiger's tail.
- This is the first step, darling.
- No, not good enough. Please.
Will one of you explain?
MIMI: Your latest victim?
REID: Natural causes, Miss Morton.
Let me rephrase that. Have you killed him?
I said we should have waited
till she'd gone home.
Excuse me. I will not be spoken of
as if I am some irksome landlady.
If we wait any longer, this stiff's
going to be beyond purpose.
And what purpose that?
They wish to make a scandal,
Miss Morton.
Show Augustus Dove
the limits of his control.
- And for that you require dental...
- We require teeth.
oh!
Good God. Do you intend
to make another victim?
JACKSON: We need
to break the mortis first.
(CRUNCHING)
(CRUNCHING)
OK, move around one.
Could be a child's parlour game.
(CRUNCHING)
All right. Do you have them?
REID: I believe the records had
had their uses when I took them.
I hadn't anticipated imitation, however.
JACKSON: Gonna have to screw down hard,
prize the flesh away.
- MIMI: How charming.
- SUSAN: Yes.
Men's work, I believe. Shall we?
Let us.
- (MEN SHOUT)
- (DOG BARKS)
I will stop just a moment or two.
Then we shall be on our way.
Mr Dove?
Appointments are there to be made.
But you, it seems, feel yourself above
the simple act of a knock upon a door.
Fugitives from justice
conduct themselves with
more refinement, do they?
Mr Dove, surely you understand.
I hear that the former Police
Detective Edmund Reid
is cheered to the skies
as he runs through our streets.
Well, that is an event worthy
of report, in my opinion.
And yet, Miss Castello,
but three editions past,
you penned the report,
true facts of how this man, whose
reputation you now burnish,
most likely placed a defenceless
old man in an underground dungeon
and left him there to starve and rot,
and then, here today, you make
as if he might in fact be a folk hero.
Our readers are fickle, sir,
and it is they who pay my wages.
No!
This neighbourhood, the people
require simple paradigms,
good, bad, justice, villainy.
These ideas become
confused in their heads,
well, the social fabric of these streets
is sewn with a brittle thread.
That thread breaks, the carapace
of civility falls away with it
and what will be left but naked savagery?
Edmund Reid did evil.
Long Susan Hart did evil.
Captain Homer Jackson likewise.
If you wish to remain
friend to the police,
that is the story you ought to tell.
Do you threaten me, Mr Dove?
Well, you interpret it
how you wish, Miss Castello.
But you see it done.
(DOG BARKS)
See how they love to play, Connor?
(LAUGHS)
(DOG BARKS)
I fear only that the boy
will become spoiled, sir.
There is nothing spoiling in joy,
Miss Chudleigh.
All young boys need a dog.
Do you know, Connor, when I was
only a little older than you are now,
I lost my mother and was alone.
But then I was found and cared for
by a man who showed me
that a way may be made
from the lonely boy I was
to a new life - a better life.
Connor, I intend to be that man for you.
You have my oath on it.
Until you yourself are become a man,
it will be my greatest endeavour
to see you do not lack for a single thing.
I will be a father to you.
You choose your favourite, Connor,
then we shall bring it home.
I thought to settle your invoice
in cash, Mr Sparks.
We are grateful, Mr Dove.
As am I for your efforts.
The beasts were not too hard to find?
Sir. This is Jamrach's.
There is not a creature alive that
we here cannot locate for you.
And the other conditions we agreed?
Full anonymity, sir, as promised.
Thatcher.
Inspector. My apologies, sir.
A snitch reports, sir, and I thought
his intelligence worth a coin.
That being?
Captain Jackson. He and Miss Hart.
I mean, it's not as if
she was the sole focus
of his ardour down the years.
If we roust each and every
twat that man has inspected,
the pair of us will be old and grey.
Yes, sir. I know, sir.
But there was one other
who, word had it, he stayed loyal to.
Only for a little while, but the talk
was that she kept him in order.
Look, the pair of them were tight
till Miss Susan got locked down
and then he made his choice.
You have paid a snitch
for old gossip, Thatcher?
No, sir, I paid him
because he brought word
that this other is
once more in Whitechapel.
Who this lady?
Well-to-do. Fine silk, fine hair,
fine carriage, you know.
- Slum tourist?
- Yeah, of a kind.
What kind?
The dramatic, sir. Playhouses.
Your games are ended, then?
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Are you expecting visitors, Mimi?
THATCHER: Oi, Police!
You will open these doors!
In there!
- (KNOCK ON DOOR)
- Open!
Open up, I say!
Police!
- Open this door!
- Quick, up into the lighting rigs.
- Miss Morton?
- Yes.
We've come for a show, lady.
One man here, other stage door.
Watch your step.
- There are lights?
- There are.
(SWITCHES CLICK)
- Look at that, a theatre.
- Hm.
So, it is the case that you and
Captain Jackson once stepped out?
Stepped out?
Hm, that's a delicate phrase
for a man in a velvet collar.
SHINE: Well, we know you theatricals,
how you like to use words
to describe a thing that ain't
actually the thing itself.
Oh, you mean a simile?
Although "stepped out"
is perhaps more of a metaphor.
Perhaps you'd best describe
the thing itself?
All right, then, let me ask you this.
- Were you...
- Mm-hm?
...and the man most widely
known as Homer Jackson
once joined by cock and cunny?
Oh. Oh, so much clearer.
Language is so much better for
an accurate expression, I find.
THATCHER: Well, then, miss. Were you?
Yes.
My God, that is a loathsome hat.
When did contact cease?
When he chose to join that cock
to his wife's cunny instead.
SHINE: You got friends visiting,
Miss Morton?
Do you see us ready
to admit audiences yet?
No?
That is because there is
a renovation taking place
and because I have yet
to establish for myself
how best a collapsing wall
may be buttressed
and my plastering is not
all I'd wish it to be.
I must employ workmen,
and workmen, not unlike policemen,
are fond of tea and biscuits.
It's not the only items
we police have a liking for.
(SLAP)
(WHISPERS) Wait, wait, wait, wait.
You know, Miss Morton,
you grow ever more fetching to my eye.
Now, it is in your interest
to be candid with me, lady.
The risk of a fire in a place
so full of the flammable.
My theatre burns, that fire will
not stop till it meets the river.
Well, best you tell me, then.
Have you seen him?
Have you hid him?
I'll tell you something
about Captain Homer Jackson.
I'm sure a great many believe
he cuts quite the dash
with his cool eye
for all that the world, in its
foolishness, considers of value.
And I'll admit, such a cynicism
quite had me taken for a while.
(LIGHTER CLICKS)
But that nonchalance is just a pose
behind which he hides a tearful,
fearful, treacherous heart.
Further to which,
for a man to spend so much of his life
in the service of his manhood,
when that manhood is,
well,
more of a boyhood.
You get my meaning, Mr Shine.
Thatcher.
With me, Thatcher.
Run along.
(SIGHS)
Miss Morton, any damage incurred
while you keep us here,
I will foot the bill myself.
And what will you do, Miss Hart?
Set armed men to rob another train?
Now, let us hope it doesn't
come to that, all right?
Are you OK, Mimi?
I will not have you soft-soap me, either.
Perhaps, after all, we have
overstayed our welcome.
Jedediah Shine is not a man I would
have set any further sights on you.
Come. It's becoming dark. We may go.
Find ourselves alternative concealment.
(LAUGHS) And then, when you're caught
and your severed heads are
displayed on the iron railings
that line the new station house
on Leman Street,
I shall have eternal guilt
to add to the catalogue of vexations
I suffer
as a result of you coming back
into my life.
No.
This profanity is part of some strategy
that, as its end, sees you restored,
these two gone away, and that man
Dove punished for all he has done?
It is no easy task, Miss Morton,
but, yes, that is the goal.
Best you and your merry band
get about it, then, Mr Reid.
Where you go, you trust these people?
They are not one-time lovers of mine
but, that aside, yes, I do.
What am I today?
The world's chopping block?
I want to know you're safe, is all.
Just get about your work, Husband,
and I shall get about mine.
(WHISPERS) Leonard. Myrtle.
Miss Susan. Quick, before you're seen.
Look at you, Myrtle.
You must be near term.
I am, Miss Susan. And you?
Is all safe with you?
Oh, you must not fear, neither of you.
You do quite enough for me as it is.
But there's never enough we could
do for you, miss. Not never.
Tell me, Leonard, how fares my boy?
Oh, but he is a stout and fine
young man, as only could be expected.
He is well, then?
He is well cared for, certainly.
But not...
."happy?
How could a boy be happy
without his ma?
But he is kept on a short line.
The woman Chudleigh.
The governess?
As fierce and shrewish a harridan
as ever scolded a boy.
But Mr Dove, he has some feeling
for the boy, I believe.
Took him to Jamrach's today
and bought him a puppy,
so to ease his loneliness.
But, Leonard, do you think...
do you see a way when the time
comes that he might be taken away?
There are Westminster police
on guard day and night,
but the woman Chudleigh
must eat and sleep,
and the gardens.
Mr Dove's gardens, they are bordered
at the back only by the marshes
and that puppy must be exercised.
I see, Leonard.
Albeit slight,
there are opportunities there.
There are.
LONG SUSAN: How do you find Mr Dove?
Too upright by half, as you ask,
and he is distracted by something
which makes him fearful anxious.
Leonard, do you think it's possible,
whilst always, of course,
being most careful,
that you may discover what it is
that makes him so anxious?
Please, Miss Susan.
He already risks so much.
What if he is found out? Leonard?
No, now, come, Myrtle.
We must remind ourselves of all
this good lady has done for us.
I was only a daily fix-it,
paid a penny to clear the guttering at
Tenter Street when the leaves got in
and she encouraged my love for you,
saw that you need earn
in that way no more,
handed us the deposit
for our home here.
Hush, Leonard. You need not go on.
But...
he's my Leonard,
and I would be lost without him.
He means to name the child
after you, if it is a girl.
And even if it is not.
Leonard!
A boy named Susan?
Strong a name as ever there was.
Um...
The, er...the house,
entrances, bedchambers of the occupants.
Do you think you might be
able to draw it for me?
I'm sure I may.
Here, the back stairwell.
This, Mr Dove's rooms,
and this, where your Connor sleeps.
That's the way, brother. Almost home.
(WHISPERS) Right, quick, over here.
Well, do we say a prayer?
Pray that one deception
is believed over the other.
Now, I go to watch for Mathilda's candle.
- I'm sorry, Drum.
- It's not you that lumped me, Tilda.
I might as well have, however.
My father would be grateful
for such loyalty.
They know it was me told you
and you that told him
and he that tied Frank Thatcher
starkers to that pony.
- I am watched.
- By Mr Shine?
He wishes to dice me for his cooking pot.
I shall not ask it of you again, Drum.
Come. Please do not sleep
on the floor tonight.
Tilda, do you not fear
for what folk will say?
Do you not want to be...proper?
Proper? I'm not sure
I know what that means.
But I certainly do not care for others'
definition of it.
All that is proper and true
is that this is good.
All else can go hang.
- Come, Samuel.
- No. No, no, Tilda.
It's not that I lack the desire.
It does not feel right.
In your heart?
No.
Then we must stay true to that.
(TRAIN RUMBLES PAST)
(SHOUTING)
Move! Move! Oi! Oi!
Move! Keep them back.
MAN: We are not safe!
WOMAN: My children are not safe
in their beds!
DOVE: What's that you say?
POLICEMAN: A new body with bite marks
has been found, Mr Dove.
Another! Where found? By whom?
The wire says only that
they need your urgent attendance
at Leman Street, sir.
Telephone Leman Street.
They are to expect me within the hour.
And wire Jamrach's
for the latest shipping times.
- Now!
- Yes, Mr Dove.
Miss Chudleigh.
Good morning.
Waters. The scuttle.
(DOG WHINES)
Of course, Miss Chudleigh.
DOVE: Where is it he was found?
Yard off the back
of Half Moon Passage, sir.
That is but a spit from this address here.
The murdering maniacs
of this town lack all respect.
This man Croker, your case
was made sound, Mr Dove,
for there is fearful likeness here.
- You will send for a surgeon.
- To what end, sir?
For full autopsy! For certainty!
Certainty? Well...
...that is a luxury,
in my experience, sir.
Nonetheless.
Sergeant Drummond,
you will please send to the Yard.
Yes, Mr Dove.
Sirs, the press are come.
Mr Dove!
Might I have some confirmation
concerning the dead man's body
recovered this morning
from Half Moon Passage?
Has this force once more assumed
their tormentor dead when he is not?
There are over 15 witnesses all
describing the work done to the body.
What use our word on it, then, girl?
Mr Dove?
You are the ranking officer here.
May I have it from you?
Assistant Commissioner?
Sergeant Drummond,
will you brew a pot of tea
and show Miss Castello
to the private office above?
That is if Mr Shine
will allow for the loan of it.
Be my guest.
I am to be granted private interview,
am I?
Perhaps you'll begin by telling me on
what evidence you named the man Croker
and if, as it now seems likely, it was
not he performed these savage acts,
you will now be reopening
the investigation
into the murder of Inspector Bennet Drake.
I shall not be taking questions on
this matter until autopsy is met.
Then why bring me here?
Why not simply make your denial
and cast me out?
You believe yourself
a good journalist, I am sure.
Good, I mean in that you understand
the moral imperative of the truth.
I do.
Perhaps you believe I have, in the past,
been eager to hide such truth from you.
Well, I am tearing it up
from the roots now.
That is a copy, yours to take.
But what you will find is that
the fate to have befallen
Mr Theodore Swift,
buried alive by Edmund Reid,
was far from an isolated occurrence.
Within, the testimony of a man
who once served him.
Proof of this station house's
past iniquity.
Corroborated, extra-judicial murder.
You wish to fill your next
front page with speculation.
You be my guest.
But this, this is fact.
And were you not to print fact,
Miss Castello,
well, I'd need to ask myself
why that was.
Care to share, Mr Dove?
All in good time...
Mr Shine.
BOBBY GRACE: Despite
our sternest efforts,
neither myself, Inspector Drake
nor Captain Jackson
could break down the iron grille
which Inspector Reid
had locked behind him.
He would not open it and...and
set about the suspect, Mr Buckley.
Mr Reid took Mr Buckley's
head between his hands and...
Hold the evening run!
(DOOR CREAKS SHUT)
What?
Well, you've made the front page.
Just not all of it.
JACKSON: Jesus, Reid.
Horace Buckley. They have everything.
Oh, Mathilda.
No, no, no.
REID: Mathilda.
BOBBY GRACE:
...he would not open it and...
and set about the suspect, Mr Buckley.
Mr Reid took Mr Buckley's
head between his hands
and...
Well, I cannot think of
a better word for it,
popped it against the wooden pillar.
I believe Mr Buckley died
after the second strike.
SHINE: Mr Thatcher, what has
befallen this neighbourhood
that it is a-burst with women
who wish to hide their information
from the police?
I don't know what it is, sir.
Perhaps you'd best tell me,
then, Miss Castello.
I am accustomed to those of your sex
being a sight more pliant than this.
Our Assistant Commissioner Dove
has given you intelligence
that now sees fugitive Reid damned
in the pages where he was
so recently celebrated.
And what if it were?
Hm.
Do you see?
There you go again,
and I tire of it, girlie.
Inspector, sir...
What? You object to my questioning?
No.
You see, miss...
there is a battle currently played out,
its field of conflict
the pages of your dirty rag!
Right?
Now,
its antagonists are
my Mr Dove
and Mr Edmund Reid.
(GASPS)
(SOBS)
Please! I do not know what you mean.
Do you not? Huh?
It's that corpse. It's that corpse.
Yeah? Which all assume is
your cannibal-killer back about it.
It is not.
Mr Dove...
...he is a clever cat, now,
but he ain't seen
near enough dead bodies.
Them bite marks, hm?
The yellow round the edges?
No lividity, see.
Carried out a good long day or so
after death came down.
In other words, a hoax.
The skilled hand of Ed Reid's Yankee.
Now, what I drive at is this.
Why? Hm? Why?
What is the message
Reid sends the
Assistant Commissioner of Police?
- What is it? What is it?
- Please! I don't know!
- What is it?
- Inspector! Please!
You moan like a bitch,
I shall slap you like one.
You lack the stomach for my work.
Get out.
And shut the door behind you.
(GASPS)
Get out.
- Please, Mr Thatcher, please!
- Get out now!
Shut the door behind you!
(GASPS)
Mm. You speak.
Mm.
Or you shall know the full majesty
of Jedediah Shine's displeasure.
It is his brother.
Whose'?
Mr Dove's.
You be clear now.
Be clear.
What does Mr Dove's brother do?
Reid believed him to have been the killer,
hidden away for his mania,
escaping to murder,
and Mr Dove, by necessity, moving
mountains to see blame shifted
and that man protected.
Where's this man now?
(SOBS) I don't know.
Mr Dove, Mr Dove,
his...
his displeasure at the sight
of that hoax corpse...
...that might tell you something, miss.
You see, he does not know, neither,
where this killer brother of his
is now hid.
His fear is that Reid will trap him first.
(SOBS)
Now.
(CHAIR CREAKS)
Come on, you're all right,
you're all right.
Now, an exemplary hack, such as yourself,
would not entertain such stories
without also gathering
your own evidence, would you?
(SUBS) N()_
Then you shall hand
that evidence to me now, hey?
(SOBS)
Oh, shh.
(CREAKS)
(SOBS)
(SOBS)
JACKSON: Young Leonard took
some risk in thieving this for you.
REID: Jamrach's?
It's the menagerie.
Leonard told me Dove
had bought him a puppy.
Well, these ain't puppies.
Canis lupus lupus,
the Middle Russian forest wolf.
I have heard tales of such wolves
in such forests.
Augustus Dove, philanthropic benefactor?
He does not draw breath without strategy.
Such rare beasts, coming in from
the Thames for tax and clearance.
Word of their arrival will be
seething on that dockside.
A dockside well known to
the creature Nathaniel Dove
and where he's surely hid somewhere.
It is not such a leap of faith
to imagine him being drawn
to the same creatures who have
so indelibly marked his soul.
The same creatures as took
their mother from them,
brought to London from one brother
to draw the other one out.
They are a lure.
REID: Granted, Dove hopes to use
these creatures to trap his brother,
we may use them also
to set a trap for them both.
(WOLVES WHINE)
(BARKING)
(BARKS)
(WHIMPERS)
(BARKS)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
Tilda! Tilda, please do not be frightened.
Will you take this to Drummond?
Within are instructions.
If he follows the instructions
and brings men,
they will capture this monster,
the true beast of Whitechapel.
Much then will be revealed, and I hope...
I hope that we may return
to our lives together.
And that would be a good thing, would it?
Yes, Mathilda, it would.
The world will be safer.
Your Uncle Bennet, others too,
they will have their justice.
And what of you, Father?
All of which you stand accused?
There is much explaining I would do.
I do not say that I am blameless.
- But there is mitigation?
- I hope so.
Mr Buckley was not a big man.
Not nearly as big as you, Father.
Mathilda.
Mathilda, please, we will...
talk of that man in due course,
but first, please hand
this note to Drummond.
You broke his head open on a wood pillar.
You smashed his brains from him.
There is a testimony from Bobby Grace.
No shard of glass, no necessary
defence of yourself. Only murder.
A defenceless man killed
in cold blood by your hand.
I was told that you were dead,
dead for all that he had done to you,
terrible, dread things
done to you in his captivity.
But he did not...
Yes, but I was told this.
I was assured this. I cannot be blamed.
He took you from me, Mathilda!
Do you not see?
No!
He kept me safe!
From you.
Mathilda, Mathilda, I will explain.
All will be explained.
The Captain. Susan Hart,
she who lied to me.
But first...
The note. Tell Drummond.
All will be right again.
- (MAN SHOUTS)
- Please.
(WOMAN LAUGHS)
Must I take you by the throat again,
pin you to the wall and accuse you
of all the evil ever born?
Mr Reid. I will talk to her.
My word on it.
Should we live, be free,
I will not leave this city
until I have made her
understand the truth.
No. Not you.
Not by my side. You are no ally of mine.
Get to Leonard. He has done
all he might for us now.
Get him out of there.
We'll meet you after.
(WOLF HOWLS)
- (WINDOW SMASHES)
- (BIRDS SCREECH)
Shh.
Aw! my'
(WOLF WHINES)
Shh.
Oh! my'
My, but ain't you both beauties, hey?
- (DOOR CLICKS)
- (WOLVES BARK AND GROWL)
(WOLVES SNARL)
NATHANIEL: Gustus?
(WOLVES SNARL)
I'm glad to have found you, brother.
- Have you...?
- It doesn't matter.
But I was certain
the news of such rare beasts landing
on this shoreline would draw you out.
Nathaniel, there is a savaged man found.
- It is not...by your action?
- Gustus, I have not...
Felt the hunger?
Well,
I feel it, yes.
But I feel also that it may be withstood.
Then I am glad.
They are magnificent.
Oh. Gustus.
They are perfect.
(WOLVES GROWL AND BARK)
They would offer you their affection
and yet they fear me.
Perhaps they see you for what you are.
Calm, brother.
Hello, Mr Reid.
Captain.
You seem very sure of yourself, sir.
Of certain things, Mr Reid, yes, I am.
And so how will you explain
your kinship with this man
when the men of H Division arrive?
Gustus?
The men of H Division cannot arrive
if they are not instructed to do so.
And yet they are so instructed.
By these instructions?
Those you handed to your daughter?
Drummond.
Not he alone.
The two, she and he.
Your Mathilda, her world
now so terribly shaken
by the sudden understanding
of her father's true character.
She understands where her future lies,
with Samuel Drummond and with
the police, with the true police.
- I'm gonna shoot the pair of them.
- No, wait, wait!
(WOLVES WHINE AND BARK)
DOVE: Mr Reid is wise, Captain.
Gustus!
Do not think me ignorant
of how the intelligence of these
wolves' importation came to you.
Your wife's friend Mr Waters.
Oh, Christ.
He will leave a pregnant widow, I believe.
(sums COCK)
Gustus, please!
No! No!
If I kill him, there is no way back
for you. No case ever to be made.
But your boy will be well.
I give you my word.
He will grow strong,
live in bright light and clean air.
And if I put a bullet
in your head, Mr Dove?
I've left instruction with
Miss Chudleigh, should I not return.
She cares for children,
but she has no care for them,
if you understand my meaning.
(WOLVES SNARL AND BARK)
(WOLVES WHINE)
JACKSON: Now what?
He would have sent word.
- It's gone midnight.
- Myrtle, it is Leonard.
- (SOBS)
- Dear, sweet Leonard.
LONG SUSAN: And what harm
can come to such a man?
Take your murderous hands off me.
You are death.
Out, woman.
Get out!
(SOBS)
(MYRTLE SOBS)
(FLOORBOARD CREAKS)
All that you have heard, Tilda...
...all that you must feel.
But you know this, the love that I feel
for you, it only swells further.
This is Mr Reid's bed.
No, Samuel.
It is ours now.
(GUN COCKS)
Evening to you, sirs.
- THATCHER: Madam.
- JACKSON: Thatcher.
I always knew you were
the one with the brains.
Cadogan's Dental Supplies.
Ain't none of you in need of falsies,
last time I saw you.
And there's a chewed-up cadaver
in your dead room, Captain,
which is now pronounced a hoax.
Fine work, Thatcher.
I'm sure your new master
will see you rewarded.
Where is Shine?
Drowning in his own poison
and conceit, for all I care.
So, do you have three sets
of irons with you?
I do not.
Mr Thatcher,
what may we do for you, then?
He is as wicked a man as any I've met.
Shine?
Despite your low opinion of me, Mr Reid,
I would see some good done
in this uniform.
Now, I don't know if all that's now said
of you three is true or no...
...but I will not serve him.
Do you mean to help us, then, son?
There is fishing and there is peace.
You will live quiet, easy...
...until all that may harm us
will be put to rest.
Thank you, Gustus.
NATHANIEL: The hunger.
There are days I feel it abate.
I've not seen a single soul.
It is only until Edmund Reid
is reckoned for.
We have need for an extra pair of hands.
You should have stayed away.