(water trickling) (upbeat music) ♪ And that's why Chinks do it, Japs do it ♪ ♪ Up in Lapland, little Lapps do it ♪ ♪ Let's do it, let's fall in love ♪ - Arthur.

(apple crunching) (water flowing) - Mm, mm.

- Come inside at once.

♪ Let's do it, let's fall in love ♪ - Can't you hear me calling?

What are you eating?

- Shh, shh, shh.

You'll wake her.

(ominous music) - Dear God.

(upbeat music) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (footsteps clopping) - I found another costume, Miss, but they will need a good airing before we pack them.

- Don't worry, Dot, we still have a couple of days left before the ball.

- So that's a Roman warrior, a clown, Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf, an angel, and I'll pack Cleopatra separately so the frock won't crush.

- Wonderful, there's nothing I like better than a fancy dress ball, although it does seem an odd choice for an engagement party.

- I am surprised your Aunt Prudence doesn't think it unseemly, Miss.

- I'm sure she does, but my darling cousin, Guy, has always found a way to wrap the old dear around his little pinky.

Mr. Butler, any chance of a broken fan belt or a flat tire today?

- No chance at all, Miss.

Your motorcar is running like a dream.

(Phryne sighing) (phone ringing) - I'll get it.

Hello, Miss Fisher speaking.

Oh, Prudence.

Luncheons off?

What a shame.

Oh no.

Yes, of course.

Did you call the police?

Leave it to me.

(phone rattling) Connect me to City South Police Station please, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

It's urgent.

Put another pin in your hat, Dot, you're in for a very fast ride.

(upbeat music) (car engine rumbling) (tires screeching) (footsteps shuffling) - Phryne, this is a complete disaster.

The poor, unfortunate girl.

(lips smacking) Two days before the engagement party.

- Don't worry, Mother.

There can be no question of the party going ahead.

- Hello, Guy.

- Cousin Phryne.

(lips smacking) Excuse me, I'm a little damp.

Was supposed to be a happy occasion when we met again.

- May I present my companion, Miss Dorothy Williams?

Mr.

Guy Stanley.

- Miss Williams, pleasure.

- So who is she?

- Marigold Brown, she's the stable hand's daughter.

I engaged her as chambermaid.

I, I think we should wait for the police to arrive.

Phryne, don't touch her.

(footsteps clopping) - Pretty girl.

- Inspector's coming, Miss.

- You made it here in alarmingly good time.

- I know a shortcut.

- Where was she found?

- Floating in, in the middle of the swimming pool.

I walked this way about nine o'clock for the roses, but I saw nothing suspicious then.

- Who pulled her out of the water?

- My son, Guy.

- It was after 10 o'clock, I had a mad hope she might still be alive.

(pensive music) - Looks like she hit her head.

- Perhaps on the edge of the pool.

Such a tragic mishap.

(crying) - Come, Mother.

- Well, come on, what's your theory?

- Take a look around her collar.

This girl didn't drown, she was strangled.

- Murdered?

(sighing) The poor, poor girl.

- When was she last seen?

Did anyone spot her this morning?

- I'll have to ask my housekeeper, Mrs. Trubody.

Phryne, would you ring the bell please?

(footsteps clopping) (Prudence sighing) (bell ringing) I told you to stay in your room.

- I wanted to play with Marigold.

Where, where is she?

- She's sleeping, my darling boy.

Ah, look who's just arrived.

- Cousin, Cousin Phryne.

(Phryne laughing) - And look what I have for you.

(bag rustling) Gobstoppers.

And they're enormous.

- You can't have them unless you go back to your room.

(bag rustling) (Arthur grunting) As you see, Detective Inspector, my son is, well, his faculties are limited.

- We'll need to speak to every member of the household all the same, including Arthur.

- Of course.

- The girl's father, where can we find him?

- Herbert Brown.

He lodges behind the stable house.

(inquisitive music) (Prudence sighing) Where in heaven's name is Mrs. Trubody.

- She was only 16, still a little girl.

I've done my best since we lost her mother.

Thank God she's not here for this.

(horse huffing) - When was the last time you saw your daughter?

- [Herbert] Uh, would've been, uh, last night, about bedtime.

Marigold likes to check on me of an evening.

- But you didn't see her this morning?

- Mm-mm.

She stays up at the servant quarters in main house, since they put her on as a maid.

She's coming up in the world.

- I'm afraid I have to ask where you were this morning, just for the record, between nine and 10 o'clock.

- Where I always am, mucking out the stables.

- Can anyone confirm this for us?

Anyone here?

- Yes, Mr.

Guy.

He came over to look at the horses.

Oh, that's right, he asked me to saddle up a couple of mounts for him, him and his lady friend.

(pensive music) - I had breakfast with my ravishing bride-to-be, Isabella, in my room.

- What time was that?

- Early, must've been nine.

- Practically the crack of dawn.

- [Jack] And what did you do after that?

- The usual, just came downstairs.

Nabbed the newspaper, wafted about the garden.

- Anywhere near the stables?

- Yes, actually, now you mention it, I went to see my old horses.

- [Jack] What time would that have been?

- Uh, never really been a watch-the-clock type of fellow.

- [Jack] Was anyone else there?

- Just Herbert.

Mother inherited him when the neighbors sold off their nags for sports cars.

I mean, (sharply inhaling) I mean, he does know his horseflesh though.

Oh, surely you don't think he had anything to do with his daughter's death?

- We're just eliminating him from our inquiries, as we'll be doing with the rest of the household.

Tell me, when might we speak with your fiance?

(pensive music) (newspaper rustling) (birds singing) (footsteps clopping) - Isabella, Phryne Fisher.

- Oh, the cousin.

We've met, haven't we?

That dazzling party in Charing Cross.

- Guy ended up on the dining table reciting an indecent version of "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck".

- Oh yes.

Darling, Phryne's just reminding me of the night we fell in love.

(Guy laughing) - At least she knows what a terrible rake she's marrying.

(Isabella laughing) - I think we're perfectly suited.

(Guy speaking in foreign language) (lips smacking) - When you're ready, Inspector Robinson's waiting for you in the front parlor.

- Oh, should I dress or not?

How good looking is he?

- Phryne, I'm sorry, I can't offer you tea.

I've just been told my housekeeper left at dawn.

- The police won't be happy about that.

- (sighing) That's the second one since we arrived.

(laughing) What do you do to your staff, Mrs. Stanley?

- Mrs. Trubody just upped and left without any reason?

- Apart from your aunt telling her the croquembouche tower looked like someone stuck a pin in it.

- (sighing) This is turning out to be such a beastly day.

You do realize we'll have to cancel the party, Isabella.

- Absolutely.

So adorably Australian.

Oh, where else but in the antipodes would an entire household go into mourning over a stable hand's daughter, sweet as the girl was?

- It shouldn't bother you, everybody who's worth knowing lives in London anyway, don't they?

- True.

It was a silly idea of Guy's foisting the engagement on his poor mother.

- (scoffing) It was not silly at all.

If the wedding is to be held overseas, it's perfectly reasonable I should host the engagement.

- Well, it's a moot point now.

Excuse me, I have a date with a policeman.

(footsteps shuffling) - It's probably all for the best, mother.

(lips smacking) (Prudence scoffing) - I think you should go ahead as planned, Aunt Prudence.

I'll loan you my staff.

- Would you really?

Although (sighing) I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate.

- Well, there's nothing more you can do for Marigold, and some of your guests have sailed from England.

- What about the catering?

Would that be?

- Up to scratch?

Mr. Butler is cordon bleu trained.

- Oh, we'll need waiters and footmen.

- I know a couple of gentlemen who might fit the bill in an antipodean kind of way.

(Prudence laughing) If that would help.

- Do you know?

I believe it would.

Thank you.

(laughing) - Ah, hello there.

(footsteps shuffling) (Isabella sighing) Which one of you wants to inspect me?

(pensive music) (footsteps clopping) - No drag marks, not so much as a snapped twig.

- Then I'd say somebody carried her already strangled and just dropped her in the pool.

What about Herbert?

- His alibi matched up with your cousin's story.

He was saddling the horses for a bit of a gallop around the estate.

Isn't that what the upper class do of a morning?

- Possibly, but not Guy.

He was kicked in the teeth by a foreshore pony at the age of eight, and he's refused to mount anything equine ever since.

- Why would Herbert lie about saddling the horses?

- And why would Guy go anywhere near the stables in the first place?

What about Isabella?

Anything worth noting?

- Not apart from her outfit.

We're just about done with the household, aren't we, Collins, apart from the housekeeper?

- Yes, sir, Miss Trubody lived in, so there's no home address, but I have the name of the agency she was registered with.

- Good, let's get back to the station, we can track it down.

- What about the discrepancy between Guy and Herbert's evidence?

- We're pursuing it.

- I'd say a poorly thought-out collusion.

- Possibly, but right now, I'm late for another appointment.

- Who's your appointment with?

- Barrister, must be some kind of court appearance.

- [Jack] Get moving, Collins.

(footsteps clopping) (pensive music) (leaves rustling) (pensive music continues) - I hope no ants followed you in.

- I'm not sure what it means, but I found it under the hedge after you brushed off for more urgent matters.

How did you go with your barrister?

- What?

- Hugh mentioned it in passing.

Tricky case coming up?

- Um, my most challenging yet, but not one that concerns you.

- "Minor abrasion to forehead, severe bruising to neck and windpipe, inflicted prior to immersion.

Most likely cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation."

No surprises there.

- Read on.

- "Welt marks with the upper back."

- Someone was belting her.

And the toxicology report says she consumed copious amounts of alcohol the night before she died.

- She didn't lead a sheltered life then.

And there could be a boyfriend we should be suspecting somewhere, if we dig a little deeper.

(water trickling) (pensive music) (footsteps clopping) - Jane, how nice to see you.

And Mr. Butler.

- At your service, Mrs. Stanley.

- Where are the others?

- Cec and Bert were right behind us.

- Not those two ex-wharfie rabble-rousers.

- You wanted staff, Aunt Prudence.

You still have a full day to get them into line?

(footsteps clopping) Ah, Mr. Albert Johnson and Mr. Cecil Yates, I'm sure you've met my aunt, Mrs. Prudence Stanley.

- G'day.

(pensive music) (footsteps clopping) - [Phryne] This will shape up very nicely by tomorrow.

- Oh.

(crate banging) - Do be careful.

Each bottle of that champagne's worth more than your weekly wage.

- Must be bloody liquid gold.

- French, how heavenly.

- Guy seems to have made a mistake?

I ordered two dozen, not 20 dozen.

- I gather you're paying for it.

(Prudence laughing) Where is Guy anyway?

- Finishing the clues for the treasure hunt.

(Prudence gasping) Mrs. Stanley, your honest opinion?

- (gasping) Oh my stars.

- Do you think the wig is too much?

- (sighing) I know you bright young things like to whoop it up a bit, but please remember, some of our guests are highly influential people.

- [Phryne] Isabella, my ward, Jane.

(footsteps shuffling) - How do you do?

Is that your costume for the party?

- Yes, I'm Lady Godiva.

- Oh.

- I thought you were Eve.

Godiva didn't have a fig leaf.

- Oh, clever girl.

- Please, not here.

- Jane, why don't you go into the kitchen and ask Mr. Butler for some tea?

They're so sweet at that age.

Poor little Marigold.

And that villain of a father, I hope they hang him.

- Isabella.

- Well, who else would've done it?

He was an old soak.

- Poor Mr. Brown.

- Is he a drinker?

- I don't know what she's talking about.

Lord Fraser couldn't recommend him highly enough.

Ridiculous.

(footsteps clopping) (inquisitive music) (horses whinnying) - Mr. Brown?

(horse whinnying) (footsteps clopping) (door creaking) - I stopped in to have a word with your aunt's neighbor on the way here.

According to Lord Fraser, Herbert Brown was quick to use a whip, and not just on his horses.

- And it seems he liked more than a drop of cheap, nasty, hard liquor.

- Hmm.

(bottles clinking) (horse whinnying) - [Jack] Doesn't look too cheap to me.

- Can I help you?

- How did you come by this, Mr. Brown?

- The usual way, at the pub.

- You wouldn't find this at your local watering hole.

It's one of the most expensive scotch whiskeys in the world.

- I didn't know that.

It was a present, Mr.

Guy gave it to me.

- [Phryne] Why?

- He must appreciate my hard work.

- Did Marigold mention anyone mistreating her, punishing her for anything?

- Not that I recall, why?

- There were welt marks on your daughter's body.

- Perhaps you mistook her for a horse.

- I may have taken the belt to her once or twice, for her own good.

The lads were like bees around a honeypot, I didn't want her to get knocked up.

What was I supposed to do?

Now, if you are done with me, I've got things I should do.

- [Jack] Of course.

(footsteps shuffling) (horse whinnying) (footsteps clopping) - He doesn't impress me with his child-rearing skills.

- I'm not convinced he's a killer either.

- What if it's not Guy covering up for Herbert Brown, but the other way round?

- That would explain the bottle of scotch?

(footsteps scratching) (horse huffing) - Ah, there you are, sir.

I contacted the agency, but Mrs. Trubody hasn't been in contact since they placed her with Miss Fisher's aunt.

- So she left in a hurry, no forwarding address and no position to move on to.

- Do you think she's our killer, sir?

- Or she knows who is.

Either way, we seem to have reached a dead end.

- I know you interviewed all the staff, but never underestimate the power of downstairs gossip.

(inquisitive music) (footsteps clopping) Mrs. Trubody can't have disappeared.

- She was headed for a holiday cottage at Inverloch.

Goes there once a year to take the sea air apparently.

What was that name again?

- Sea Wind, Sea View, or, or something.

- Sea Breeze, Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages.

- Any problems, Mr. Butler?

- No, Mrs. Stanley, everything's going very well.

- Good.

- Now, find a safe place to store that, good chap.

Mm.

- Is that your famous English fudge?

- [Prudence] Oh.

- Ah, you wouldn't like it, Mother, it's made with figs.

- Ugh.

(footsteps clopping) - May I ask, Miss Fisher, what is so special about this fudge?

Apart from the country of origin, (laughing) of course.

- Believe me, Mr. Butler, it's very special indeed.

Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages, Inverloch.

- Cah, rah, R, um, ss.

Crumbs, breadcrumbs, breadcrumbs.

(gasping) I'm reading "Hansel and Gretel".

Mm.

- I just taught him a few words.

- It's a present, a present.

- When do I not bring you a present?

Hope you haven't chosen your costume yet.

Since "Hansel and Gretel" is your favorite fairytale.

(Arthur gasping) - I'm going to be Hansel.

I, I'm, I'm, I'm going to be Hansel.

And, and g-guess who's going to be Gretel?

- Who?

- Guess.

Marigold.

She, she, she loves fairytales.

- Darling, Marigold isn't here anymore.

- Where is she?

- She had to go away.

- Because of me?

- No, of course not.

- Yes, it is, because I didn't give her my toffee apple, and, and Mother's cross, too, because I'm not supposed to have sweeties.

- Tell me, did you see Marigold?

- Phryne, that's enough.

- Why did you tell Jack Robinson it was you who found Marigold?

- I did find her.

Arthur had no idea she was dead.

Still doesn't, I hope.

- Well, somebody should tell him.

He has a right to know.

- How long is it now since little Janie disappeared, Phryne?

Arthur was still a boy when your sister went missing, he still has bad dreams, still awakes in the night calling for her.

- Well, this time, there's no reason to hope.

(Prudence sighing) The kindest thing you can do for Arthur is tell him that.

(room crashing) (footsteps clopping) - Arthur.

- Janie.

- Arthur, stop it at once.

Aw.

- Janie.

- For pity's sake.

(Arthur groaning) - Janie, come back.

- Shh.

- I was just teaching him my name, that's all.

- [Prudence] Shh.

- [Arthur] (crying) I just.

- Oh.

- I just want Janie to come back.

- [Jane] Does he mean Marigold?

(pensive music) - Did the woodcutter hurt Marigold?

- No, you got it wrong.

There was no woodcutter.

- He was in the garden and he gave her a toffee apple.

I saw him.

(birds singing) (footsteps shuffling) - Here?

And where were you?

Hiding?

The woodcutter gave you an apple?

- To go away.

But I didn't go away.

And then.

- You saw the woodcutter with Marigold?

- She wasn't asleep, was she?

The woodcutter killed her with his ax, didn't he?

- Yes, dear.

- I wish I had an ax.

I'd go and I'd find him and I'd chop him up.

- Oh, don't talk like that.

- Arthur, was it someone we know?

Marigold's father?

Someone else from the house?

What did he look like?

Tall, short?

What color hair?

- No, no, it was the woodcutter.

I saw him, the same one, the one who took Janie.

- That's not possible.

There was a toffee apple left behind when Janie disappeared.

I've tried to dismiss it as coincidence.

- [Jack] That's all it is, Murdoch Foyle died in prison.

- But what if he's duped us all, with trickery or he paid people to help feign his death so that we all think he's gone, but he's just biding his time, ready to strike?

- Well, strike whom?

- [Phryne] Me?

- So why would he kill Marigold?

- It's a game of cat and mouse.

He knew Prudence Stanley was my aunt, it's been all over the society pages with Guy's engagement.

- Foyle's dead, Phryne.

- [Phryne] But Arthur said it was the same man who took Janie.

He identified him in a police lineup.

- With all due respect, your cousin can't pick the difference between fairytales and reality.

- Why connect it with Foyle?

- Well, Marigold's death reminded him of Janie's.

And whoever he saw, he decided it was the same bogeyman, the woodcutter.

(table knocking) - If it wasn't Murdoch Foyle, who was it?

- The housekeeper saw Marigold with someone before she left.

- Who?

- She's on her way back to Melbourne by train, compliments the Victorian police force to tell us in person.

- Your invitation to Guy and Isabel's party, as my partner.

- Oh, Miss Fisher, I really don't think I.

- You still have a murder case to solve, and what better way to gather information than to mingle with the crowd?

Besides, I need you to remind me not to be afraid of shadows.

(footsteps clopping) (door clacking) - Do you really think Mr. Foyle is still alive, Miss?

(footsteps clopping) - Perhaps he's just haunting me, Dot.

Jack's right, it's not logical.

Let's hope a hot bath will bring me to my senses.

(footsteps clopping) (inquisitive music) (car engine rumbling) - I want you to check again on Murdoch Foyle.

- (sighing) Not you, too, Dotty.

He tried to escape from prison, the plan went wrong, and he was cremated instead.

- So there's no way of digging him up to check, isn't that suspicious?

- It's what his mother wanted, it was at her request.

- Then get me her name.

- You sound just like Miss Fisher.

Why can't you trust the records?

- Because records can be falsified.

And in all the time I've been Miss Phryne's companion, her instincts have never been wrong.

- Yes, well, there's always a first.

- So does that mean you're going to help me or not?

- (sighing) (tutting) I'll see what I can do.

(upbeat music) ♪ Wah, dah, doo ♪ ♪ Wah, dah, doo ♪ ♪ ♪ Wah, dah, doo, dah, dah, doo ♪ ♪ Dah, dah, doo ♪ ♪ It makes no difference ♪ ♪ If it's sweet or hot ♪ ♪ Just keep that rhythm ♪ ♪ Give it everything you got ♪ ♪ It don't mean a thing ♪ ♪ If it ain't got that swing ♪ (Mr. Butler sighing) - No, I'm not wearing that.

- You need to look the part.

- And what part's that, part penguin, part panda bloody bear?

- Ah, there you are, Phryne.

Did you remember to collect the petit four?

- I did, if Cec and Bert would unload them from the car.

- Ah, don't waste a trip.

You can take Marigold's things back to her father.

- What things?

- Oh, d-d-don't worry about it, the police have finished with them.

Follow me, young man.

- Why did we agree to this job?

- It's only for the early part of the evening.

And I need you to keep an eye on Jane.

Leave the bag, Cec, I'll deliver it myself.

(footsteps clopping) (bag latch clacking) (inquisitive music) - Miss Fisher, excuse me, Miss, you better come, quick.

(footsteps clopping) - Mr. Butler.

(Mr. Butler laughing) Mr. Butler.

How much fudge did you eat?

- One, two, (laughing) buckle my shoe.

- [Phryne] Two pieces?

- Three, four.

- Four pieces?

(Mr. Butler laughing) - And he's (laughing) still standing.

- What's wrong with the fudge?

- It's laced with hash.

- You mean hashish?

- No, no, no.

- [Prudence] Oh.

- Highest quality if I know Guy.

- No, no, no.

(Cecil laughing) - Oh.

- This way, this way.

- Aw.

- Got you.

(grunting) - Thank you.

(footsteps clopping) (door knocking) Mrs Trubody's train arrives at four, sir.

- Well, if I'm not back by then, you'll have to interview her yourself.

- Uh, but I thought she had important evidence, sir.

- I hope she does, Collins, but I'm not sure when I'll be released from court, and I have faith in your abilities.

- Thank you, sir.

Uh, which courthouse is it?

Just in case I need to find you.

- The Federal Magistrates.

- That's the divorce court, isn't it, sir?

- I believe so.

- Well, good luck, sir.

(footsteps clopping) (door clacking) (footsteps clopping) - Oh, I do feel queer.

- Lie him down somewhere, Bert.

Sleep's the best thing.

- Good idea, going to get a lot worse (laughing) before it gets better.

- What's wrong with Mr. Butler?

- He took a liking to Guy's fudge.

Don't press me, Dot, dear, you would be very shocked.

Now, tell me, what do you make of these?

- (gasping) Why, they're lovely, Miss.

Such beautiful silk tatting, are they French?

- I suspect so.

They're not mine.

- The stitching is practically invisible, they must've cost a penny.

- Too many pennies for Marigold Brown.

They must've been a present, possibly from a gentleman friend.

- That's a very inappropriate sort of present.

- A rich gentleman friend given to inappropriate behavior, who springs immediately to mind?

- Mr.

Guy.

- So where's the inspector?

Surely he gave you some indication of when he'd return.

- He didn't seem to know.

- Nevermind, I'm heading past the courthouse on my way back to Aunt Prudence's, I can catch him there.

- Uh, uh, no, no, no, M-Miss, I don't think he would like that very much.

(footsteps clopping) - Why not?

- Uh, he, I think it might be a personal matter.

- Personal?

He hasn't robbed a bank, has he?

- He, (sighing) he's, uh, Mrs. Trubody's waiting for her tea.

- The housekeeper?

Has she been helpful?

- She says she has, (sighing) she says she has information, but she says it's delicate, and she's demanding to speak to a lady police officer.

- There are only four of them in the state.

- I tried to explain.

- Perhaps a lady investigator would do.

(cup clinking) (footsteps clopping) - I've done my best for that household, Miss Fisher.

I know Mrs. Stanley can be a demanding employer, but I have exacting standards myself.

- So that's not why you left?

- No.

There was an unfortunate incident the night before.

I went upstairs to turn down the bed in Mr.

Guy's room.

I knocked, but nobody answered.

- So you went in?

- Oh, it's a sight I won't forget in a hurry, like Sodom and Gomorrah.

- Guy and his fiance?

- I'd say so, but to tell the truth, I couldn't see their faces, the two young ladies, only Mr.

Guy's.

So I couldn't stay under the same roof after that.

And I didn't know how to tell poor Mrs. Stanley.

(water trickling) (birds singing) - Have a look at these, Bluebeard.

Look familiar?

Which one of you gave Marigold French underwear?

- (sighing) The stupid woman should've knocked.

- She was barely 16.

- Oh, don't go all moralistic on us, Phryne, you like your meat tender, too.

- We had some perfectly lovely times the three of us, then Guy had go and spoil it all.

- It wasn't my fault.

Little minks followed me down to the cellar when I went to get supplies.

- She pleaded with Guy to take her back to London with us, even threatened to claim we'd forced her.

- Well, there's your motive.

- Her father's the one with the motive.

He found us in the cellar, was jolly embarrassing.

Was Marigold's blood he was baying for though.

He dragged her off, called her a slut in the hall, making a dickens of a row.

I had to appropriate a bottle of something expensive and go after them to calm things down.

- So for the sake of a drink, Herbert was prepared to overlook his daughter's cavorting?

- No, he must've killed her.

Why else would he be blackmailing me into giving him an alibi?

- So if you weren't with Herbert, what's your alibi?

- I was with Isabella in the library until after 10.

- Mm, I had an appointment with the florist, and she kept banging on about the symbolism of orchids and Stephanotis, until Guy's mother started screaming about Marigold.

- Mm.

(upbeat music) (attendees faintly chatting) (attendees laughing) (attendees faintly chatting continues) (suspenseful music) (letter rustling) (footsteps shuffling) (letter rustling) (cape whooshing) (door clacking) (door slamming) (upbeat music) (attendees faintly chatting) (attendee laughing) (footsteps clopping) - Cleopatra, (grunting) what an asp.

(Phryne laughing) Now, Phrynekins, (throat clearing) about this Marigold business.

Don't make fruckus tonight, think what it'll do to Mother.

- Don't worry, Guy, Aunt Prudence is in for a difficult enough evening as it is, I'm not gonna make it worse.

- I do love you.

(lips smacking) - (laughing) So you should.

(Guy laughing) (footsteps clopping) You look perfect.

- Thank you, so do you.

- Now, only lemonade tonight, and no fudge.

- Oh, someone left a note for you.

It's still upstairs on the dressing table.

- Oh, I'll get it, I'm going to check on Arthur.

(door knocking) (ominous music) (footsteps pounding) (bedsheets rustling) (door clacking and squeaking) Arthur?

Hello, Arthur, why aren't you at the party?

- Mother says Guy doesn't want me.

- I can deal with Guy.

- I'll be good, I'll read my book.

- You'll miss out on all the fun.

There's gonna be a treasure hunt.

I brought you some treats.

- Not hungry, mm.

- You might change your mind.

(lips smacking) (Phryne blowing) (footsteps clopping) (ominous music) (door clacking) (ominous music continues) (footsteps clopping) - Is Mr. Butler gonna be all right?

- He'll be fine, it was just a reaction to some fudge.

He must be allergic to figs.

- I found out more about Murdoch Foyle's cremation.

It was at the request of his mother, Mrs. Gertrude Clark.

(paper rustling) (inquisitive music) - Her name's not Foyle?

- She was a foster mother.

So I checked with welfare, and they remembered her because she was charged with maltreating six orphans in her care.

Starvation and brutality.

She spent 2 1/2 years in prison.

I've been through her file.

- Well, she doesn't sound like the kind of person I'd want to meet, but did you find an address?

- I did, but it's no help.

Mrs. Clark's been listed as a missing person for the past fortnight.

(Dot sighing) (upbeat music) (attendees faintly chatting) - [Phryne] Jack, you made it.

- Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.

- Very good.

I assume Hugh told you about our interview with Mrs. Trubody.

- He did.

- Good.

I can fill you in on the rest, but first, you need a costume.

How can you protest when you have no idea what it is I have in mind?

- Because nine times out of 10 what you have in mind gives me grief.

There's nothing wrong with the way I'm dressed.

I'm perfectly disguised as a police detective.

- You won't detect much in a crowd this fast in a blue, wool suit and tie.

(costume rustling) I kept this aside for you.

(helmet clanking) A passable Mark Antony, if we pilfer that sword on display in the billiard room.

- So I'm to be the triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet's fool?

- You've been at least a single pillar for far too long.

No one will know who you are.

- Except you.

- Come on, Jeff, just one gaudy night.

- If you really want a Roman soldier, then I'll take it from here.

(footsteps shuffling) (letter rustling) (door clacking) (helmet clanking) (door slamming) (letter rustling) (ominous music) (Phryne gasping) (ominous music continues) (ominous music continues) (ominous music continues) What is it?

- This was left for me.

It was Janie's.

She was wearing ribbons in her hair the day she disappeared.

I have the other one.

- How?

- I don't understand.

It must be him.

- Who else was there that day that could've found it, apart from Foyle?

Anyone else?

- The police were there obviously, my parents, Aunt Prudence came to collect.

- [Prudence] Arthur, put that down.

- Arthur.

But.

(footsteps clopping) No.

- He's gone.

- He wouldn't hurt anyone.

- We've got to find him.

(clothes rustling) - The wolf, he's taken the wolf costume.

(footsteps clopping) - [Jack] Arthur.

(attendees faintly chatting) (trumpet blowing) (attendees cheering and clapping) - Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our treasure hunt.

(attendees cheering and clapping) Third prize, half a case of French champagne.

(attendees cheering and clapping) Second prize, an entire case of French champagne.

(attendees cheering and clapping) First prize, a night in the boudoir with Isabella.

(attendees cheering and clapping) (Bert laughing) Or me.

(attendees laughing and clapping) Or both.

(attendees laughing and clapping) Here's your first clue, ladies and gentlemen.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but only one rose will lead you to your treat.

On your marks, ladies and gentlemen.

(ominous music) Get set for the highlight of the evening, and.

(trumpet blowing) (attendees screaming and laughing) Tallyho.

Onwards and upwards.

- Where's Jane?

- She was here.

- Jane.

(footsteps clopping) (car engine rumbling) - So the prison sent his body to you at Mrs. Clark's request?

- That's right.

I don't remember everyone who comes through, but she was an odd one.

- In what way?

- She signed off on the job, we showed her in to view the deceased, and then we never saw her again.

Haven't heard from her since either.

- But you definitely cremated Mr. Foyle?

- Uh, Miss Williams is a relative.

- Excuse me, Miss, didn't mean to be rude.

Uh, yes, we went ahead with the job.

Ah, well, um, there you are then.

Commiserations on your bereavement.

(footsteps clopping) (ominous music) (cicadas chirping) (footsteps crunching) (ominous music continues) (lightning cracking) - Jane, where are you?

- Jane.

- Jane, are you all right?

- [Jane] I thought this was the next clue, but there's nothing on it.

- [Jack] Where's Arthur?

- What is it?

- Time for you to go home, Jane.

- Gather your things, Jane.

(lightning cracking) I'll get Cec and Bert to bring around the taxi.

(footsteps crunching) (lightning cracking) (ashes sifting) - [Hugh] Aw.

(Hugh blowing) - How do we tell if that's him?

(Hugh sighing) (inquisitive music) What's that?

- [Hugh] Just bone probably.

- No, it's shiny.

(pencil clacking) - [Hugh] It's more like glass.

- Where's that photograph of Mrs. Clark?

- Uh, here.

(file rustling) - Here, this description, "Born 1856, she had one eye, the other was a glass eye."

Hugh, these ashes are not Foyle's, they're his mother's.

There's been a swap.

- [Guy] Right under your nose, Mother.

When will you?

(Arthur grunting) - Guy, Guy, what's going on?

- Arthur loves Jane.

- Yes, he adored Janie and Marigold, too.

Can't you see?

He's the common threat.

- No, no, no, no.

- Stop.

- All my life it's been about poor Arthur.

- I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone.

Just take him away and lock him in an asylum where he belongs.

- No.

(Isabella screaming) - [Phryne] Arthur, let go.

(Arthur and Isabella grunting) - What more is it going to take, huh?

- Guy, darling, come back.

- [Guy] I'm leaving this house.

- Oh dear.

(crying) - Whatever happened, Arthur, none of it's your fault.

You can tell me.

- No.

- Please.

- Shh, it's all right, darling.

There, be calm.

- It's not mine.

I'm not supposed to have sweeties.

- Where did you get this?

- It was him.

(ominous music) - Ms. Phryne.

(footsteps clopping) It wasn't him, he wasn't the one who was cremated, it was his foster mother.

- Dot, are you sure?

- It's true, sir.

It was Gertrude Clark who entered into those flames.

- The ribbon.

Arthur, tell me everything that happened tonight.

- I wanted to go to the party, but Mother wouldn't let me.

And when I went outside, the man was there.

He gave me another toffee apple, but he took my costume and he hit me.

- The same man you saw with Marigold?

- Yes, the woodcutter, the one who took Janie away.

- Oh my God.

Foyle drowned Marigold.

He knew I'd help my aunt, and he's still out there, Jack.

(car engine rumbling) (car engine rumbling continues) - I wonder if I could trouble you for a lift?

My car won't start, I need to get back to St. Kilda.

- Ah, why don't you jump in?

We're heading that way.

(door clacking) (car engine rumbling) - I've let all the staff know.

- At least Jane's out of harm's way.

- The guard at the gatehouse saw a man holding a wolf costume flagged down a taxi.

We just missed them.

- Cec and Bert.

We'll take my car.

Dot, telephone Mr. Butler, warn him to lock all the doors and windows, and tell him Jane's on her way.

(footsteps clopping) (phone ringing) (ominous music) (phone ringing) (phone ringing) - There has to be someone at that number.

It's an emergency, could you please check the line for me?

- [Cec] Are we home yet?

- (laughing) Go back to sleep, will you?

(footsteps shuffling) (door squeaking) (door slamming) - Goodnight.

Thank you.

(footsteps clopping) (door slamming) - So where can we drop you?

Anywhere near Acland Street will be fine.

(door clacking) (door slamming) - Acland Street.

(car engine rumbling) (kettle whistling) (footsteps clopping) (doorbell ringing) (ominous music) (footsteps shuffling) (door clacking) (door squeaking) - Excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I appear to have left my house keys back in my car.

Do you think I could use your telephone?

- Of course, (nervously laughing) come in.

The telephone's just there.

- Thank you.

(door slamming) (ominous music continues) (knife zinging) (line cutting) (phone clacking) Good evening, could you please connect me to a number of the Camberwell Exchange?

(milk trickling) I was a professor of a university.

- Really?

I want to go to university.

What did you teach?

- History was my area.

Ancient worlds are my passion.

- Mine, too.

Uh, milk?

- No, thank you.

Makes me think of Cleopatra bathing in asses's milk.

- Oh yes.

(laughing) (ominous music continues) (footsteps shuffling) - She was in love with Mark Antony, who was a Roman general.

- [Jane] Tell me more about Cleopatra.

Feeling better, Mr. Butler?

- Yes, in fact, I'm really rather peckish.

(chair squeaking) You were?

- Mr. Eton's car broke down at the party.

He teaches history.

- Oh, does he?

Well, that's very interesting.

(footsteps shuffling) - [Murdoch] Thank you for the tea, I should be leaving.

- [Jane] I'll see you out, Mr. Eton.

(footsteps shuffling) (footsteps clopping) (dramatic music) - Jane?

Where are you?

Jane?

- What's wrong?

- Where is he?

(footsteps clopping) - Where's Murdoch Foyle?

(footsteps clopping) (dramatic music continues) - He'll be back.

(upbeat music) ♪ Why, sir ♪ ♪ You quite take me by surprise, sir ♪ ♪ Oh my ♪ ♪ What eyes you have ♪ ♪ Why, sir ♪ ♪ The sun is falling in the sky, sir ♪ ♪ Oh my ♪ ♪ What eyes you have ♪ (upbeat music continues) (upbeat music continues) (bright music) (film reel clacking)