DRAKE: Streetwalker, sir, found ripped.

(GRUNTING) JACKSON: This man once called me a friend.

And then, amongst others, you killed his brother.

He was never one to hold a grudge.

(POLICE WHISTLES BLOWING) -Stop.

-Who is it tells me?

Police.

(BOTH GRUNTING) Always were a faker.

(PEOPLE SCREAMING) This man's rooms.

Now.

Another tart's been ripped.

Another snitch sends me to you.

Take him.

(MEN TALKING, INDISTINCT) Right, shut up, you evil drunks.

Shut it!

♪ As I was a-walkin' by St. James's Hospital ♪ ♪ Early the morning though warm was the day ♪ ♪ When who should I see but one of my comrades ♪ ♪ All wrapped up in flannel and cold as the clay ♪ ALL: ♪ Then beat the drum lowly and play your pipe slowly ♪ ♪ And sound the dead march as you carry me along ♪ ♪ And fire your bundooks right over my coffin ♪ ♪ For I'm a young trooper cut down in my prime ♪ ARTHERTON: ♪ The bugles were playin' his mates were a-prayin' ♪ ♪ The chaplain was kneelin' down by his bed ♪ ♪ His poor head was achin' His poor heart was breakin' ♪ ♪ This poor young trooper cut down in his prime ♪ ALL: ♪ Then beat the drum lowly and play your pipe slowly ♪ ♪ And sound the dead march as you carry me along ♪ ♪ And fire your bundooks right over my coffin ♪ ♪ For I'm a young trooper cut down in my prime ♪ Reid.

Has Dr. Bagster-Phillips done his work?

He has, sir.

Inspector Abberline was there.

Your dead room was requisitioned for him.

Another streetwalker.

Murdered, I shall say, at the hands of your Captain Jackson.

And that is your surgeon's opinion?

He goes to prepare his report.

But he's convinced, nonetheless, that she is Ripper.

Throat cut commencing left, terminating right.

Abrasions on the spine.

Access to the pelvic organs secured with one incision, ribcage to pubis.

As before, parts of the bladder taken.

And the womb also.

That organ recovered at Captain Jackson's lodgings on Tenter Street.

And what is it led you to search there?

The same communication that reported this poor creature's whereabouts?

It is sufficient, Inspector, to draw this case to a close and name him.

Do you think, Fred, that hanging my American will return your sleep to you?

Obsessions are addictions.

Which may not be defeated by actions in the physical world, but by a change of temper in the mind.

Come on, Reid.

We both know what gives here.

Fred Abberline is... (SIGHS) is fixated, I grant you.

But he is honest.

Led to your innocence, he will respond accordingly and have you freed.

And it's you that pilots him there, is it?

-I hope to.

-No.

You really want to stop this?

You want to save my neck from a stretching?

-Of course I do.

-Then you return to me my pistol, you forget those keys of yours and you take a walk.

And have this fantasy given extra credence?

Have vigilante patrols scouring the streets looking for your head to break?

No.

No.

You bide your time and you trust in me.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR) (CLEARS THROAT) Come in.

Rose, you have a visitor.

I never expected to find you here in Mrs. Reid's shelter, when we are now quite recovered at Tenter Street.

Our gentlemen help us back to our feet.

All is as ever was.

Except, of course, the continued absence of Captain Jackson, beneath the key of Mrs. Reid here's husband.

What will become of him, Miss Susan?

Mr. Abberline makes his case, they will call him Ripper and hang him.

Which is why I would have you back with me, Rose.

A room of your very own.

A key with which you can come and go as you please.

Rose, you are not imprisoned here.

I know, Mrs. Reid.

But Miss Hart, I cannot permit you to come here if you do so to procure.

Rose, this woman would make a penniless drudge of you.

I would not.

I give her a home.

Somewhere from which she may choose what to make of herself.

Rose?

Is it your wish that you remain here a while longer yet?

It is, Mrs. Reid.

Miss Susan, you took me from the streets and gave me an home.

But I am set now on improving my circumstances further still.

How will you do that, girl?

I will not hex myself by saying yet.

But I do hope to tell you all very soon.

(SIGHS) Thank you.

Hobbs's wife.

Come to collect his personals.

Hobbs was married?

I had no...

I had no idea.

No, sir.

Sergeant, I'd hear your thoughts on what we might next do for Captain Jackson.

I was set on an afternoon in The Bear, sir.

I am owed time, as you know.

You explain yourself.

If you work to free Captain Jackson or whatever name it is we should now call him by, I'm sorry, but you must do so alone.

You honestly think him guilty of this woman's killing?

The others also?

That we at last have our man?

Mr. Reid, I care not.

All I know is the man who made that woman widow, Frank Goodnight, he came to this town in search of our American.

Your association with Captain Jackson, it has done us little but ill, in my humble opinion.

Look at these last months, Bennet.

We've done some good with his help, have we not?

You tell that to Dick Hobbs.

See if you can rouse agreement from him.

Miss Erskine.

I am sorry if I am late, Mr. Trumper.

I missed my omnibus at Bethnal Green and had to wait... Not at all.

It's wonderful to see you again.

You did have me worried, however, that you might have changed your mind.

When I saw the estancia for the first time, two days' ride from Buenos Aires, it is magnificent.

It's 50,000 acres.

70,000 head of cattle.

But there have been sacrifices of 10 hard years of labor and... well, I am a man who wishes for a family.

For a wife.

I would find that wife here rather than in the Argentine.

To think that we were introduced through the pages of a newspaper.

It is a wonder.

Without wishing to seem overforward...

But do you imagine that such a life might suit you?

Mr. Trumper, I...

I know nothing of the world except for this patch of sky right here.

But I would change that.

Do you think that you might begin to call me... Victor?

-I'm Rose.

-Rose.

(CHUCKLES) Um... As we agreed, I have brought us a picnic.

(CHATTING AND LAUGHING) Miss Rose?

I feel like I might...

Please!

Someone!

Call a carriage.

Can you hear me?

(BREATHING HEAVILY) This one?

Yeah, he threw his neighbor's son off the roof of Christ Church Spitalfield.

The company I keep these days, right?

(GIGGLING) Sergeant Drake.

Miss Susan.

Rose is no longer with us.

Have you not heard?

Oh, I heard all right.

I, uh...

It is the reason I come.

Is it true, Sergeant, you were sweet on Rose?

But that she let you down?

That makes her a fool and more besides.

There's not a girl here who doesn't think you are the finest of men.

Miss Bella.

-Sergeant?

-Would you keep a secret for me?

Till my death.

If we just sat here for a while, in this chair, you and I.

And perhaps I might sleep for a moment or so.

If we did that, would you tell no one what passed?

I, uh, I do not ask you to lie.

Simply to say nothing if questioned.

House broken up on Truman.

Street theft, Commercial Street.

Street theft, Aldgate Corner.

Three counts of public indecency down at Petticoat.

Two men cutlassed at closing time in the Shipwrights, one now dead.

Two missing persons, both teenage girls.

One on Sidney, the other Cheshire.

Are you finished, Artherton?

That is today's roll, sir.

Yes.

-Mrs. Reid.

-ALL: Good morning, ma'am.

REID: Come in, Emily.

It is the third night this week you've slept in that cot.

-Is it more comfortable than it looks?

-No.

No, I, uh...

I'm tired, Emily.

I'd fall asleep on pins.

I come because I confess myself disturbed.

Rose, the girl I took in from Miss Hart's... -What of her?

-She did not return last night.

Edmund, I thought her sincere.

Whisky.

-Your Rose... -She's not my Rose.

She's not mine.

As you well know.

According to Mrs. Reid, Rose did not return to the shelter last night.

Then she returns to type.

That was my response also, until Mrs. Reid told me the shelter had been broke into.

Nothing taken but the girl's personals.

What use our work, Bennet, if we cannot care for those we love?

REID: You said the wastepaper had been cleared?

Mmm-hmm.

You noticed it full?

Newspapers.

Writing paper.

It struck me as strange.

-What, that she could read and write?

-I suppose so, yes.

The Ragged School on Field Lane.

She went there every day till she was 16.

Did you see what she read and wrote here?

Letters.

Many of them.

Received and sent.

Letters?

-Will you fetch me paper?

-Mmm-hmm.

Did she speak also of a wide network of friends and family with whom she would correspond?

-She has none, sir.

-Thank you.

You see these?

Circles.

Many circles.

These letters, Emily, do you think it possible she might have ran and responded to adverts in the Lonely Hearts?

It is possible, yes.

Sergeant, we are going back to work.

Does that suit you?

Yes, Mr. Reid, it does.

-Officer, read me that roll again.

-Yes, sir.

-Er, house broken up on Truman Street... -Yes.

-Street theft, Commercial Street... -Yes, yes, yes.

-Three counts of public indecency... -Yeah.

-Two men cutlassed at closing... -Move on!

And two missing persons, both teenage girls.

-What ages precisely?

-Seventeen and 19, sir.

-One on Sidney Street, one on Cheshire?

-Sir.

-Not tarts or destitutes, then?

-No.

Both housemaids.

Reported last night but missing since when?

One on 19th, the other the 22nd.

Get men to their addresses.

Sharp-like, all their personal effects returned here.

Yes, Mr. Reid.

Johnson!

Michaels!

With me, Sergeant.

We return to our past.

-All our Ripper suspects, sir?

-Hyams.

Bury.

I look for one in particular.

Here.

Here.

Whoa.

Are you so desperate, Inspector, that you rake through all the suspects we ever knew?

We have the man in your cell.

Those two missing girls' particulars, sir.

DRAKE: They were using the Lonely Hearts and all.

Ah!

You see?

The favored here, highlighted.

Which is why I look for this man.

Victor Silver.

Cattleman.

Land in the Argentine.

Slaughters his beef there, refrigerates it aboard his reefer ship, ships it for sale.

New York, the Continent, London.

And once he got here, the way he liked to operate, he placed these personals.

Like the ones used by our missing girls.

He responded to them also.

Met these girls, charmed them, drugged them, took them off the streets.

Why?

We never knew.

Only way he came to eye is one of them caught him slipping a dose of narcotics into her drink.

They fought, he produced a knife.

A long one.

Very sharp.

Failed to stop her from kicking his bollocks and then running to us.

But for a week or two, we fancied him for Ripper.

Do you remember?

And... then we ruled him out.

For good reasons.

Ones which I am surprised you have forgotten.

Sergeant, read from the file.

The up-front summation will suffice.

"Victor Silver.

Cattle importer.

"Deceased 15th of Sep... "Deceased 15th of September, 1888."

A year ago.

Read on.

The details of his death.

"Drowned aboard the steam launch, The Pride of Wapping."

ABBERLINE: Drowned aboard the steam launch The Pride of Wapping.

No.

Missing.

No body found or washed up.

Seventy-seven drowned, five lost, 171 saved, myself included.

(SCOFFS) This man Silver, Mr. Reid.

It's the first time I've heard his name.

There were many names mentioned last year.

Hardly surprising to forget a few.

Yes, sir.

But tell me if I overstep.

The Pride of Wapping, was that not -the launch from which your daughter... -Sergeant!

You overstep.

Dear Miss Erskine.

I am Clara, Victor's sister.

You took ill, so he brought you to our home.

'Tis morning.

I was worried you might never wake.

I cannot remember when I ever slept so sound.

Is there somewhere you need to be?

If there is, I...

I cannot remember.

Then please.

I have laid out some clothes.

When you are ready, join us for breakfast.

Dear Rose.

Please.

This is my other brother, Barnaby.

And our young friend Mary.

You are very pretty, miss.

Please, come.

-Barnaby?

-Excuse me, Miss Rose.

Rose.

It was my greatest hope to find you still here.

I have been made most welcome.

-(BELL DINGING) -Barnaby, see to the bell.

It is the most common of plagues, Mr. Reid.

Loneliness.

'Tis the city's curse.

But this, our Lonely Hearts, the remedy.

Now, you may dictate the details of your desired love.

Our team of editors, their one aim, to lead you towards the happiness that all men merit.

They will transcribe, print and forward the missives of your passion for the smallest of prices and in total anonymity.

But were we to construct and place our own, you would print and run it for us?

Oh!

So, you do seek a wife for your Sergeant.

Your head is a sight to behold, scribbler.

Do you want me to match this side with the other?

Mr. Drake, come now.

You know me, hmm?

Ever obliging.

But I would know what reward, we here at The Star might expect for such a service.

Perhaps... (SIGHS) ...an interview with your gunslinger Ripper?

What price these personal advertisements?

-Tenpence.

-Then that is your reward, Mr. Best.

(CHUCKLES) As you compose your messages, remember this.

He will want you naive, young, lonely and lost in this world.

You may dictate your messages to these men here.

And when you do, you speak from the heart.

It is our Rose for whom we do so.

I am a gentle girl.

Shy at first but eager to demonstrate... Rose?

Are there those that miss and wonder after you?

No, Victor.

Not a soul?

It makes me weep to think of you so alone.

I do not feel so in your home, however.

I feel as happy here as I ever have.

A rose for a Rose.

You need not be so gallant.

Not with me.

(PANTING) Do I offend, sir?

It's quite all right, Rose.

Here.

Some more cordial.

No, I...

I don't think I will.

Perhaps it's time I took my leave of you.

No, Rose.

We grow far too fond of you here.

-Do we not, brother?

-We do, Victor.

-(SQUEALS) No!

-Have Clara calm her.

Let me go!

Put me down!

Let me go!

There is violence in that one, Victor.

She has worth, however.

Not if she scratch the eyes from the man to whom she is sold.

Sweet sister, you shall look after her.

And when seven weeks at sea have passed, well, she'll be grateful merely to be alive.

Clara, hold firm.

We have but one more package yet to collect.

And then we can set to sea, safe in the knowledge that we need not return until the new century, should we wish to return at all.

Now, go.

You've left the child alone.

And though we need no longer bind her to her bed, you know she may still run from us, given the opportunity.

You're to see all of these printed in the morning run.

And take receipt of all marked applicants yourself.

-You... -You heard me, scribbler.

(PANTING) What is it?

The accident I told you of... My daughter.

There was a man aboard that boat.

A man whose remains were also never recovered but all thought him dead.

This man...

I...

I believe him returned.

But if he indeed survives, then...

So also, you think perhaps your daughter?

I have always known it.

I have known she was out there somewhere.

But this, this secret dream that now takes life, it is not for you to share with me.

Your daughter had a mother.

A mother who would have me call her dead and gone.

No, Edmund, no.

I cannot be the sounding board for your guilt.

You seek forgiveness, an ally in the hope that your life might return to what it once was.

I cannot provide these things for you.

Please.

You should go home.

Have you been here all night?

Please sit down, Emily.

I would speak with you.

One of the five unrecovered from the steam cruiser that day, a man, name of Silver.

I believe he still breathes.

Mathilda.

She was with him.

-How?

-She was with me.

And I was at work.

He was a candidate of mine, for Ripper.

I had men put on his lodgings with orders to alert me should he leave.

Word came.

He was moving south.

And so you decided to take her with you.

To have our daughter by your side as you stalked this man.

-Should I have left her here?

-Yes, Edmund!

You should have!

(EMILY SIGHS) You say she was with him.

We picked him up on Petticoat Lane.

She held my hand as we walked south for the docks at St Katherine's.

Do you remember how she loved the boats?

We bought tickets.

The launch sailed.

Mathilda joined a gaggle of young, running back and forth on the upper deck.

Which is where I found him.

He had met a girl, Veronica Atkins.

Her drowned body recovered one week later in Greenwich.

He had bought her lemonade, which I feared he would drug.

I stepped forward, he saw me, knew me for what I was.

At which moment it all came to pass.

The ship struck.

The hull split, the deck lurching into the air.

The gaggle of girls slipping across it, Mathilda calling for me as she fell.

All was aflame.

The steampipe came down upon me, I could not move.

Could not reach her, as she fell past this man, into the water beneath him.

Where he, unable to cling on, also fell an instant later.

Do you see, Emily?

He might be able to say, to recall, that no, she sank like a rock to the floor of the Thames.

Or that yes, she clung to driftwood.

-Or even to he himself... -Stop.

Stop.

You raise a hope that sinks its claws into me.

If it is forlorn... Edmund, I dare not think what will become of us.

Florence, authoress and composer of music.

Thirty-two.

Wishes to meet -with a true gentleman.

-Too old.

(MOANING SOFTLY) Help!

Help!

(BELL DINGING) VICTOR: Eat up.

Help!

WOMAN: Help!

Help me!

Help!

Help!

(BELLS DINGING) Don't move.

Sit here.

Don't move.

(DOOR CLOSES) (MOANS SOFTLY) Madison!

Send to Inspector Reid.

Tell him there's a Lonely Heart cattleman here, name of Trumper.

Victor Trumper.

You.

Name?

Bella.

I cannot watch from close this man.

If it is he, he has had sight of me before.

But the Sergeant here will never be far.

We have a carriage outside.

(DOOR CLOSES) For caution, Bella.

I am very proud of you.

Miss Culver?

Mr. Trumper.

Let me explain the delight.

I read your advertisement... Well, I am sure all as see you say the same, that you are, forgive me, a beautiful woman.

-Well, Miss... -Bella.

I cannot see him clear enough.

(CHATTING, INDISTINCT) Would you call me Victor?

Shall we stroll a little?

I should like that.

Riggs and Michaels, track along the ridge above.

Drake, in their steps.

None closer than 50 yard.

I shall cut left.

See if I can get closer.

Go, go.

I took the liberty.

Please.

It's lemonade.

Made by my sister.

Where was it you lived, before you came to this city?

Southend, sir.

Please, call me Victor.

Do drink some more of your lemonade.

We should walk a little more.

No, sir.

I'm happy here.

No.

You shall call me Victor.

And we shall walk.

You, whoever you are, you stop right there.

You.

It is you.

I see any of you move, she's dead.

BELLA: Sergeant Drake!

(MEN EXCLAIMING) (GUNSHOT) No!

Damn you, Silver.

Damn you.

You stay alive.

You stay alive!

Give it to me.

(GAGGING) Yes.

You remember me?

You remember me?

You remember my little girl, Silver?

You remember her also?

Tell me!

Did she live?

Do you have her?

No!

No!

No!

No!

No!

He's the only one!

He's the only one, do you understand, he's the only one who could say... His sister!

He spoke of his sister.

Jackson.

Are you still on my ticket?

-Yes, I am.

-Then I need you now by my side.

I need to know where he's been the last 48 hours.

You can help me.

-He has Miss Rose under key somewhere.

-Others also.

-This was about him.

-You expect me to work like this?

Yes, I do!

For now, yes.

Well, then get him stripped, God damn it!

These in his coat, they are... customs dockets for cargo transit aboard a ship, the Clara May.

Eight separate items.

Large ones, too.

-She sails in a day.

-There's matter in his lungs.

-What is it?

-I can't say yet.

I need to remove the tissue, set it in wax.

Then make a cross-section, then I can tell you.

(SNIFFING) What's this smell?

-I have to cook it.

-Cook it?

Yes.

Cook it.

Get some scissors, we'll cut a patch.

-(SIZZLING) -REID: And?

Patience, Reid.

Just a matter of minutes.

So is this her?

This the woman I'm supposed to have slaughtered?

What if she is?

(SNIFFS) If I could see a way of clearing myself of this, would you grant it to me?

Not if it'll involve you leaving this room, Captain.

It does not.

Just tell me you ain't burned Frank Goodnight.

One dead Pinkerton.

ABBERLINE: ...stands in my way, shall find my foot on his throat!

The three of you...

I'll see you on the rope with him.

REID: Enough!

This man is Homer Jackson.

He is my surgeon!

The man I trust to show me to the truth, as I have always done.

Now make your case, Captain.

Do you see any stripes here?

Blood drawn?

No.

This woman, dead five days.

Yes?

Yes.

You see here, these two fingernails broken?

Skin from her assailant.

Now, Inspector, you will confirm that I have not yet opened this sack.

I will.

JACKSON: Frank Goodnight.

The man that I shot dead out there.

The man with a long history of malice held in my direction.

-What do you see?

-REID: Scratches.

Four of them.

Two middle deepest corresponding with the broken nails.

Right hand, left side of neck.

-Circumstance.

Chance.

-I have not finished.

Sergeant Drake, describe me.

An adjective or two.

-American.

-So you keep saying.

-Feckless.

-Come on!

Describe my appearance!

-Unwashed.

Scraggly.

-Thank you!

Frank Goodnight here was not.

You may smell the hair oil on him still.

(SNIFFS) Macassar.

It was wound about her fingers.

Smell it.

(SNIFFS) If you wish to pursue your current course of action, you be my guest.

But you and I will be pitched apart, Fred.

The press will celebrate it, your name blackened or mine.

But the same truth still abides, this man is not the man you seek.

Now, will you let us get about our duty?

Well?

It's organic.

Lignified.

Could be sawdust... -or wood shavings.

-In his lungs?

-Heavily calloused.

-DRAKE: What's he been building?

The patch from his trousers.

Ammonia.

The refrigeration wadding on his ship, is he stripping it?

To make his hold more inhabitable.

Sir, the customs dockets.

Eight different units.

He's constructing his own sea cans.

Each one large enough to hold a grown woman while he traffics her across to South America.

But it's seven weeks to the Argentine.

Captain, the medicine with which he doped that girl... Laudanum, cut with passion flower tincture.

Keeps you calm and happy no matter the circumstance.

So you'd need a lot.

More than you'd collect from your neighborhood druggist.

Sergeant, find out where the Clara May is at dock.

And have a list drawn up of all pharmaceutical wholesalers within a two-mile reach of it.

MAN: Number 64.

Here.

Miss Silver, if that is your name.

We have your brother.

-Which?

Victor?

-There is another?

REID: (WHISPERING) She must know where these girls are kept.

Reid, there's a strategy that I'd like to put to you.

It's going to require Drake here.

(DOOR CLOSES) -I would see Victor.

-Would you?

(SIGHING) Well, he is otherwise occupied, Miss Silver.

My company will have to do.

Now, this is what I know.

You, your brothers, turn young women's loneliness to your own account.

You draw them in, seduce, drug, house them in cargo cans for their shipping to South America.

And... Well, there my knowledge finds its limit.

There is much lies beyond those limits, Inspector.

For one thing, where it is you... imprison your cargo before its journey?

For another, who it is keeps watch on them there?

-Your other brother.

-He indeed.

Barnaby.

If Victor and I are not returned home alone and unharmed by nightfall, he will not falter.

He will kill them all and not think twice.

I, uh...

I would avoid that.

As would I.

Then best you tell me where it is he keeps them.

What did Victor say when you asked him this?

He remained silent.

Then so shall I.

-DRAKE: The child killer.

-JACKSON: Get him stripped.

DRAKE: What the hell are you doing?

Creole trapper showed me how.

Never attempted it myself, though.

May I ask how it was you found us?

You have a girl known to us.

-We looked for her.

-Which girl?

You tell me the ones you have taken, I shall let you know when you land upon her.

And if you are mistaken and she is not with us?

Our search will continue and you and your brothers will still swing.

And the lives Barnaby will take, those innocent dead, -will they haunt you?

-My life here, the dead are something to which I have grown accustomed, innocent or blameworthy.

And yet you believe one of ours known to you?

Perhaps I will list them for you.

Three serving maids.

We have done well from that particular constituency.

Two nurses, a shop girl.

Another, I believe a whore seeking not to be so any longer.

And our last, well, she was due to be delivered this afternoon.

Have I named her?

Hmm, Inspector?

Well, there is one more.

You have described them all.

There were but eight cargo dockets.

This one does not travel in the hold.

She is far too precious for that.

No, this one we keep close.

We nurture, Inspector.

For when she has grown just a few more years, well, imagine the price we shall fetch for her.

It was you.

The policeman on the boat that day.

Victor told me how you screamed for... You will tell me where you keep her!

I will not!

Do you wish to see brother Victor?

Come.

You shall!

(WHIMPERING) No!

No, you watch.

-You watch.

-Where?

There is not much provided in this world which aids the course of justice, so we take what we can, Miss Silver.

Do it, Sergeant!

-No, stop!

-REID: You will tell me?

-I will!

-Hold your arm!

Victor!

You wore it well.

GIRL: Help!

With me!

Gentle, Barnaby.

Where did you find her?

No, not from the boat.

Merely alone on a street corner.

Inspector, that day Victor reported seeing no other.

He said he thought it a miracle he was saved.

Perhaps, then, he lived on borrowed time.

He is dead, Miss Silver.

By the hand of the last girl you would've taken.

-But in your cell he... -Another.

Made to look like him.

(SOBBING) No.

You killer, no!

No!

No!

Hello.

I am Mr. Reid.

(CHILDREN PLAYING AND LAUGHING) (TALKING, INDISTINCT) There's your teacher.

And this is Miss Goren.

You'll be safe here.

She is a good friend to us.

(SIGHS) Come.

-Sir.

-Good morning.

Good morning.

-Sergeant.

-Mr. Reid.

-REID: Chief Inspector Abberline?

-Notable by his absence.

That man, I never knew one that needed his pipes cleaned more.

-REID: Hmm.

-(KNOCK ON DOOR) -Mr. Reid, sir?

-What is it, Sergeant?

-Ironmongers on Nelson.

-Wagstaff?

Mmm.

His creditors foreclose and he has shut his doors with four of his customers inside.

Swears to murder them all if the bailiffs come for him.

-Is he armed?

-Yes, sir.

Well... shall we?

♪♪