The Good of This City Ripper Street

This programme contains scenes which some viewers may find upsetting

Your cleanliness is your responsibility, but I expect it taken serious. I shall advise on

girdle, corsage, garter and bustle, advice by which you will abide if you wish to thrive. Now the house

takes 60% of all earnings. It is a good sight less than most, girl.

In return, you shall find yourself free from harassment of any kind.

If you have a complaint to make, I will take your side,

no matter the grounds nor the Thomas in question.

In short, you will find yourself fed, safe and solvent.

Think on it. Return once you have.

Yes, ma'am.

Lucy!

Oh, Lucy!

Oh, darling.

I'll sweep and scrub the floors, change the girls' linen,

cook for them, do whatever you ask of me.

Ah, Lucy. You, a char? You would make step-sisters of my girls

and I would have mutiny in a week.

Now, tell me. Where have you been these last years?

Did one of our gentlemen make you his own?

-Lucy?

-Please, Miss Susan.

Will you not let me work?

You know I cannot.

Then I know not what will become of me.

Lucy, look at you.

The truth of this world is that men have designed it

for their own purpose and pleasure.

And you, my darling, there is not one primitive desire

in their child-like minds that you do not fulfil.

Which is my curse, miss....

one from which all the world profit...

save myself...

and one, it seems, I cannot now escape.

Christ on a pony.

Um...

Dead. Murdered.

Who is, lady?

It's all right. It's all right.

Two shillings is all. You spend less on butter, more perhaps on ale.

But a drop or three will raise you up when you need raising

and it's going to bring you peace after.

Help! Help me, somebody.

Hell's bells! Fetch the inspector!

Come sit down here, Miss. What you been up to?

-Lucy?

-What is this? Who is she?

Her name's Lucy. Lucy Eames.

-Known to you how?

-How do you think? She was one of Susan's.

-Lucy.

-Blood's not hers, thank God.

-Then whose?

Sir, she spoke of murder.

-Two murders.

-Where, girl?

Dog's Neck.

Dog's Neck.

-It's what they call the rookery off the back of Cable.

-St George's Cross?

-That's right, sir.

That slum's due to meet the wrecking crew today.

-Can we get a blanket? Give me a blanket.

-Miss, come here. Come here.

Miss, you see this whiskered gentleman here?

His name is Mr Artherton. You have need of anything, you ask him.

She may deserve them. She may not.

-Best not take chances.

-Quite so.

Sergeant, that girl's no stranger to restraints.

Get the telegraph singing. See if any of our brethren had any cause

to lock up a Lucy Eames.

-Tart, I believe.

-Yes, sir.

She's one of Miss Hart's girls, you say?

-Was.

-When?

-Two years ago maybe.

Susan found her lifting her drawers for the hauliers on Limehouse Cut,

took her in, fed her, waited till she was 16, let her loose.

She was something, Reid.

-Men stood in line half-way to Hoxton.

-Lucky girl.

So why did they stop queuing?

Get these people out of here. Come on. Move along.

It's all coming down today whether you're out or not.

Order of S&C Railways.

Police coming through. Stand aside, gentlemen.

Excuse me, madam. Stand aside.

BABY CRIES Move! Out!

You, out!

He's gone. Though not long since.

-Still warm.

-You. You stand there and watch this man bleed out?

That man...I did.

-Who is he?

-Name's Roach.

Collected rents hereabout.

What use was he on the day this building comes down?

Whatever it was, they raised hell about it.

She calling him a devil, he swearing to end her

-if she didn't pipe herself down.

-The woman?

Yeah, Maggie Eames. This is her place.

And those her children that wail out there?

Them and their whore of a sister.

-Sergeant, get them out of here. Have a man take them to their sister at Leman Street.

-Yes, sir.

You have the tart?

-You saw her?

-She was seen...

walking out of here like she'd washed herself in his blood.

You take note of any other?

On this day?! Amongst this exodus?

Satan himself could have sauntered through and no man remark on it.

-Your name?

-Denton.

Wait outside. Sergeant, shut the door.

-Constable, keep hold of this man.

-Yes, sir.

So, she smashes the bottle into his head.

She stabs his throat with it.

He staggers, he shoots...

-No.

-What?

This wound, the skin, subcutaneous fat...

See how clean it's penetrated? She stabbed him with that bottle,

the work would be jagged and the flesh scragged. This is a lancing.

Just one precise thrust.

Miss Eames, then.

She had no blade on her when she arrived.

-She could've ditched it.

-Certainly.

But...

But she would have struggled to reach him from where she stood.

Lucy stood...

..here.

See the arc of arterial blood?

The heart's beat projects it from his severed artery,

strikes this wall, this wall, this window...

Then hits the girl, leaving that gap.

Give the man a cigar.

He was cut from behind by someone else.

-Go on.

-She hits him with the gin bottle, blam. He shoots.

Gets stabbed from behind. He turns. He falls with the stripe of blood.

towards Lucy. But he shoots and misses. See that?

Missing because he's turning, aiming for another. Blam.

Blam.

Blam.

-Blam.

-Towards whoever cut him.

Where's the last? The sixth?

-Lower than the others, sir.

-It is.

It is, but...was it diverted?

By what?

You see this, Captain?

We have six bullets. We have one in her head.

Four passing directly into the wall in a correlating tangent.

And the last, the sixth, perhaps diverted through this window.

Then that's the slug we need.

Got ya.

It did pass through a body on its way out. It's blooded.

Then...

a fourth stood...

..here. In their hand, the knife that killed this man

and with him the answer as to why he blew this woman's brains out of her before he died.

These bodies, mark where they lay and they are for your dead room.

Sergeant, keep this room sealed. There will be truth in it,

but we must work it inch by every inch to find it.

You're police?

My name is Stanley Bone of the LCC.

Mine Reid. H Division.

What does it brings a board member of our new county council out to a slum clearance?

Do you offer your home to those here rendered without?

Mr Reid, I am advocate for the railway company

that makes this incursion.

Whatever has called you here takes place on its land.

It is murder that calls me here.

Murder? Of who?

Of a rent collector and tenant.

I am sorry, Inspector.

But whilst I pray for the poor departed,

that building comes down today.

No longer. It stays upright until I know what took place there.

And these workmen will stand idle on full wage

while you discern the details of a rent dispute?

Whatever it is that's discerned here, yes, they will.

Or are you not also advocate of the police?

Yes, of course.

You must do your duty, Inspector.

How now, Inspector? Come to see the march of progress, have we?

Those who now must find their shelter where they can?

-That your story, is it?

-Oh, I am a man of compassion.

The benighted souls who must make their lives in such places

or meet their deaths there.

Just a name or two, Inspector, eh?

Someone here shall tell me eventually. Why should it not be you?

Because I would make your life harder than it need be, Mr Best.

Not the reverse.

It'll be all right, Lucy. It'll be all right.

Artherton, a Maria for St George's Cross.

Have Captain Jackson return with all...speed.

There, there. Come on. Shush.

What's brought you here?

Erm, our Lucy, Inspector.

-Miss Susan sent me to check on her.

-And how do you find her?

As you see her, Mr Reid. Just...silent in her distress.

-Get home, girl.

-Yes, sir.

She seemed calmed by the girl's presence, sir.

-I thought it conducive. Never mind that, Artherton.

-Have you traced her?

-Not myself, sir. The lad.

Well, Hobbs?

Well, it's only that the girl seems sad, to me, sir.

-Not bad.

-No.

-And like you said, she's worn irons before now,

-so I did a round of the asylums.

-And you found knowledge of her?

Yes, sir. The Lark House at Bethnal Green.

-And do they send someone?

-A Dr Crabbe comes.

-Karl Crabbe himself?

-Sir.

He's made a progress with hysterics

that no other doctor of the mind has yet.

Good work, Hobbs. You did right.

Choose two men, take a Maria to Sergeant Drake. He'll have instructions for you.

-Yes, sir.

-Give me the keys to those cuffs.

Sit.

No. No, child. That is not what is...required of you here.

Are you wounded in any way?

Sit.

All I want from you is to talk.

Whatever pleases you, sir.

Drink this.

Can you remember what it was brought you here?

What happened at the Dog's Neck?

My mama killed, sir.

Not just your mother.

A man, too.

Yes. Do you know him?

What did you see?

Forgive me, Miss Eames. His blood was shed all upon you.

May I go now, sir?

Where is it that you think you are, Lucy?

I forget.

Your mama, this man...

Help me help you and think.

What did you see?

Just my darkness.

When I woke up, they were there laid before me.

-And not another soul?

-No-one.

-You are sure?

There's nothing that I'm sure of in this world, sir.

Lucy, you are aware that you are with child, are you not?

BABY CRIES

Dr Crabbe.

Lucy!

Mr Reid.

Sir.

I heard you speak last month. At Lincoln's Inn.

At the college! A man I know told me I droned that day.

He cannot have been listening.

And now you have found and cared for our Lucy.

Dr Crabbe, you should know,

Miss Eames' mother is killed this day.

Oh, my poor dear girl.

And another man, too, the name of Roach. Do you know him, sir?

No, I do not. Was Lucy present?

She was.

But remembers not a thing?

Get both these bodies to my dead room!

The man who drops them will be assisting me at autopsy.

No! Wait! Wait!

SHE SCREAMS

Take them away now! Hurry! Hurry!

Reid, I... I'm sorry.

She is epileptic?

She is ailed by that, yes. Other conditions, also.

Inspector, I know you must question her further

but I would lodge her in my care until you next have need of her.

Artherton, prepare the papers.

Davis, can we lift her?

Thank you.

There Lucy. All is well, all is well.

Dr Crabbe, one last question before you go.

For how long has Miss Eames been a patient of yours?

A little over two years now,

but she is not permanently resident with me.

You keep no watch over her?

Inspector, to find her health, it is of considerable importance

that Lucy's life feel as commonplace as yours or mine.

That cannot be the case if she feel we assess her every move.

When she is ill, she comes to me.

When well, she lives as she pleases.

TODDLER GABBLES

Excuse me.

Sir. These nippers?

I have an idea where they may rest

until we know better what will become of them.

Miss Goren? Miss Goren, I am sorry. I come to impose on you once more.

Oh! We are friends now, Inspector.

You must never apologise for your visit.

This is Betsy.

Hello, Betsy!

Girls, say hello to Betsy.

What is this poor child's story?

Er, her mother is dead and her sister...

Her sister is of no use to her for now.

No father or uncle?

It's men that are the ruin of this family, Miss Goren.

Oh, this family and many like them, Inspector.

You disagree?

No, no. No, merely, my wife would say the same.

Mrs Reid must be a woman of great sense and clarity.

She is that, yes.

Then I would like to meet her.

My many thanks again, Miss Goren.

If I have news, you'll be the first to know.

You remember, Lucy? Your room?

Just as it ever was.

'Strange, were like she weren't even there.

'Barely even recognised me.'

Anyways, I don't know why you're getting yourself in such a palaver about her.

Think she gave two tosses for you when she swanned off like Ellen Terry herself?

She was worth ten of you, girl.

Oh, Rose, come here, come here. I'm so sorry.

(I fear for her. And I blame myself.)

Get Reid, Sergeant.

Yes, Commissioner Munro.

Two issues, Reid.

One, whoever did this. From behind.

They had to push upwards from underneath to do so.

So I reckon they would be shorter. The blade's about four inches.

A good point, a switch-blade most likely. A well-made one.

The second issue?

This woman.

There are fibroids in her womb.

Explain.

It's like cankers. Over time they deform the uterus.

The children?

She ain't been confined for over ten years.

So what then? Are they Lucy's?

KNOCKING AT DOOR

Commissioner Munro calls for you, Sir.

You're to go with him to the Dog's Neck railway excavation.

They are but a few weeks old,

but these places already have the chill of eternity.

Why bring me here, Sir?

Just hear the man out, Reid. His concern should be ours, also.

Inspector. Inspector, please!

Thank you for responding so speedily to my invitation.

Yourself in particular, Inspector.

Get to it, Bone, I have two murders above us need investigation.

And I will have you returned to them in short order, Mr Reid.

As soon as you've seen just what is built here.

Track is laid. For a railway. It is nothing new.

Perhaps not new. But newly efficient.

Every man - a yard back from the line!

MACHINES WHIR

500 volts run beneath the rivers of the junction at Liverpool Street,

split there to travel east, west and onwards, Mr Reid.

Onwards, for ever. Down the next century and the one that follows -

an organism of transport.

Every borough connected, one to the other.

The poor, sir - not simply the rich - will travel,

for the cost of half a pot of jam, from one end of our city to another.

Their everyday horizon extended,

their aspirations improved accordingly.

Mr Bone, I have never contested the value of this machinery to people's lives.

Then assist it.

Inspector, the investment structure we have constructed for this

venture, it is as reticulated as the network we would build.

Each section of line has a completion guarantee.

That guarantee fulfilled, the next tranche of capital is released.

Should the demolition crew above ground stand idle

for many hours more, we risk the collapse of the entire venture.

I beg you, sir. I beg you.

Let them proceed.

Good day to you, fine sirs.

Who is this gentleman?

His name is Best. He writes for The Star.

You know me not, Councillor. But I come to know you, Sir.

This is private land.

Remove yourself or Inspector Reid shall do so with his boot.

And this here is common land from which I shall ask Mr Bone my questions,

of how he feels, four months into its life,

our new county council proceeds.

If its civic enlightenments are not compromised by the...

commercial instincts of its councillors.

I shall not stand here and listen to these insinuations.

Everything we do, we do for the good of this city

and the benefit of those who build their lives within it.

Commissioner, Inspector.

I'm sure they appreciate your dedication, sir.

Yes, the sacrifices you have made to your own life.

Your wife, watching the sea roll in all alone down in Hove.

No children to comfort you.

The pleasures of a home life foregone in pursuit of others' happiness.

It must ail you, Sir.

It must play on those finely-tuned nerves of yours.

Or do you find other ways of easing that pain..?

Best! Enough. Get gone.

Whatever you say, Inspector.

But do not think me gone long.

For myself, Mr Bone's vision of a liberal city commune is of little bearing.

No, sir.

What is of greater importance to me is this -

that each occasion a slum is raised to the ground,

it is replaced by the type of brick and clean steel on which

the bacteria of the criminal classes can no longer fester.

The greater the number of homeless we send to the wider world,

the faster our measure of crime falls.

You have my meaning, inspector.

Whatever it is your men do in that rookery, it stops by end of day

or they will find themselves amidst the rubble.

'There will be sign.'

This person might have vanished as if a ghost,

but a ghost they are not.

Wherever they have passed, the space through which they have done so must bear witness.

We three - we take one more pass of this place together.

On your knees, then.

Oh.

What, Hobbs? What is it?

It's gin, Sir.

Sir? Look at this, blonde hair.

The mother's, most likely.

What's that?

It's a herb.

Dropped. Brushed aside.

One that I have smelled before.

Hobbs. It's time we knew more about our dead Mr Roach.

Get to Companies House. Find out what you can about his work,

-whether he collected on his own behalf or for others.

-Sir.

Sergeant - you're with me.

I have a notion of what may have passed here.

That's for upstairs, cheeky.

Sergeant Drake!

Get your skinny prick out of here!

Fetch Miss Susan!

Will you arrest me, Sir?

No, girl.

I hope he's not left you out of pocket.

GIGGLES

Mr Drake, you do say the funniest things.

Your mistress. Where is she?

This had best be a raid.

If you've come simply to say your good-evenings, I shall be seeking compensation.

No good-evenings. This is not a raid, either.

I seek an interview, Madam.

This way. But leave your sergeant down there.

He may moon at my girl gratis.

I'll be outside sir.

Your accomplice's very own suite.

Will you indulge me, Miss Hart?

Allow me to weary you with some details of my day?

You? Weary me, Inspector?

That girl you once ran.

Lucy. A good girl.

She left for what we hoped were better times.

Better or no,

she appears this morning at my station, striped in blood,

keening after her dead mother.

I've heard of it. And I mourn for her.

Hmm. Yes.

And the man, too, Roach.

His carotid opened with a stab of a honed switch-blade?

I prefer you spare me that imagery, Mr Reid.

Your sensitivities affronted, are they?

This plant on Captain Jackson's desk.

What of it?

Pennyroyal, is it not?

What that man keeps in this room, I find I prefer not to inquire.

Then perhaps I might educate you?

I'd be honoured.

Pennyroyal, when brewed strong as an infusion, may bring on miscarriage.

I confess I am surprised a woman in your line of work, ignorant of this.

What can I say, Mr Reid? We are cautious in this house.

Miss Eames is, I would say, a little under three month pregnant.

Then I mourn for her once more.

As I say - cautious.

You best attend to that, Susan.

A bullet wound might soon go septic.

Think of the names I can speak of!

The many men of yours whose pleasure's been found in my house!

-Those ranked higher than you...!

-Will you get her locked down!

You! And you! And you have all been guests in my house!

With me, Jackson.

No, Reid!

I swear it, I have no clue as to what she's doing here.

How skilled you are, Captain.

Your claims to know nothing of what takes place beneath your own roof.

I am dismayed at myself,

that I would trust a man so transparently false.

The two of you - you and Susan - the lies that you hide behind,

lies that I have allowed to go untested.

Allowed in the foolish instinct that some good might come from it!

That you might be worth the faith that I have placed in you!

I am, Reid.

You are in a rage and I understand that rage, but I...

No.

You knew of her guilt and a man who holds secrets is a secretive man.

And you have the right to pronounce on that, do you?

That mess about your shoulder.

All who have laid eyes on it, every man in this station

too afraid to talk about it even amongst themselves.

Does Drake enquire after it?

Because I'd lay money on it that he doesn't.

Well, that's loyalty for you, Reid.

A dog unable to question the pain or motivation of the man

that it tails about the place.

Well, I shall ask you. I'd hear you speak of what befell your girl...

You ever speak of her again, I shall not trouble myself with

asking after the secrets of your life, Captain.

I shall chain you in a cell underground

and take billy club to you until they pour from you like water.

Am I clear?

Am I?

My innocence in all this?

There is a suspect down the way with a bullet wound,

requiring disinfection and needlework.

'You make no attempt to hide your guilt.'

Why should I? I feel no shame for the act.

The animal had killed the woman, was set to do the same to Lucy.

I did only as you would have done, Inspector.

I should take your word for that?

Take what you will, Inspector. It is the truth.

Careful, Quack!

The truth, and the two of you?

-Three unlikelier bedfellows a man would struggle to find.

-Indeed.

You ask your questions, Mr Reid.

I will answer and then you may decide if I do so truthfully or no.

What brought you to Dog's Neck?

-Lucy.

-She invited you?

-I followed her there.

-From?

Tenter Street.

Two years and not a word,

not a solitary clue as to whether she lived or breathed.

Then, dressed fine as a lady, she knocks on my door.

What did she want?

Her old room back.

But she was dressed fine, you say?

I have no explanation for it, Sergeant, just the fact of it.

Then what did you say to her, Susan?

That, thoroughbred or no,

three months pregnant, she was no use whatsoever to your stable.

Then what?

Why ask me?

I imagine, being fond of her, you felt remorse.

And you hurried after the girl, Pennyroyal in hand,

to tell her that, were she to find herself free of her burden,

she might once again be welcome.

Hmm?

But it is what you found there that interests me the most.

I heard her from the street.

-She raged at him.

-Margaret?

On what topic?

They were flattening the place.

He wanted his dues before they did so.

No.

She screamed of what she knew of him.

And that she would be silent no longer.

And he said that she would if she knew what would allow her to keep on breathing.

I heard glass break.

The bottle against his head?

The reports of a revolver.

-Lucy screaming.

-You entered.

Lucy was hysteric.

You produced your blade.

You cut...

..from behind.

And what of Lucy?

I left her there.

Squirming in the dirt.

-Why d'you stare? It is a case solved.

-Reid.

No longer, American, away with ya.

Reid, do you intend to charge her on this?

For saving a girl's life?

A man was killed by her hand.

A slumlord ape set on murder.

Still a man.

And you never thought it worth asking why this man took

a pistol to this woman.

Or whose threat he carried with him?

Captain Jackson, I shall be the master of all enquiries I make of myself.

Door, please, Sergeant.

Is it worth asking? Do you think, sir?

Yes, Bennet. I suspect it is.

David, be quiet. Down and sleep. Goodnight.

-Goodnight, Miss.

-Good night, good night. Sleep!

'Go'natt. Sov Gott.

Oh, Ellie, I have your dolly.

There...tuck down. Good night.

Go to sleep. Good night.

Oh, no!

Betsy, Betsy.

Betsy? Betsy?

Miss Goren?

It seems all I bring to you is violence and distress.

Find the children, please, Inspector.

Lucy Eames.

-Two years since, you say she walked away from your house with no warning?

-I do.

The oldest child found in that room, I guess she approached that age.

-Do you agree?

-Mmm.

Then I suggest this to you.

That you cast her out for the same reason you cast her out this day just passed,

that she was pregnant and no longer welcome in your house.

You think me callous, Inspector. And perhaps I am that.

But I loved that girl like a sister.

And she never did say what took her away.

But I had my theories.

Proceed.

-The first of her...attacks...

-The fits from which she suffers?

It had come two months previous. Near scared the Thomas with whom she was engaged, to his death.

There were more?

Perhaps five, graver too.

We found her gone the day after the last one had left her.

My belief? She went to find their remedy.

Gentlemen, please, come this way.

In the treatment you conducted with her,

did she speak at all of children born unto her?

She did not.

Nor of the child she carries in her belly now?

Mr Reid, my patients - past, present, future...

I have no family of my own and as a consequence,

they are doubly precious to me.

Such love means I will not judge them nor demand their secrets.

They come to me, arms wide for assistance

and I render it without condition.

Until Lucy chooses freely to tell me

the details of her life away from here, I will not ask her of them.

Then that - and I hope you will forgive me for this, doctor -

that must be my task.

Lucy.

I bring greetings from Miss Susan.

Miss Susan is a lady.

As are you, Lucy.

Not I, sir. I would be so.

But am not.

And who is it says so?

The world. Its law.

God's law.

Because you have children and are unmarried?

Many reasons, sir.

Tell me, Lucy, what, what was it brought you to Miss Susan yesterday?

Miss Susan sent me away.

I know, I know.

But, after two years and with child inside you.

It is desperate of you.

Tell me, Lucy, please, will you name that despair?

Lucy? Lucy?

The children that your mother cared for,

the child that is inside you now.

Which man is father to them, Lucy?

It is but one man, is it not?

Do not be frighted, child.

It is in my gift to guarantee your safety.

No, no I cannot!

-No, I cannot, I cannot, no!

-Calm. Calm. Calm, child!

There...sshh...all right.

Miss Eames' medication. Mr Reid would know its contents.

-Hobbs, Hobbs, Hobbs, slow down, say again, say again.

-Yes sir.

Sir, Gordon Roach - that's the murdered rent collector, sir -

-has a company name of Roach Collections.

-Imaginative.

Yes... No.

-Roach Collections pays into and receives stipend from a trust.

-Name of?

-Stickleton. The Stickleton Trust.

-Its board members?

Not listed. The only name that of a lawyer.

A Mr Pinch.

Now, I visited Mr Pinch - well, Mr Pinch's clerk, that is.

-And impressed on him the value of this...

-Yes, yes, Hobbs, skip to it.

Sir, the only trustee of the Stickleton Trust is Mr Stanley Bone.

Sergeant Drake! With me!

Stanley Bone. Everything you have.

Now.

Hang it.

Fred Best tells you he needs something shown in return.

You do as I ask, I will give to you a story that, though you connive

and bribe your way to the devil himself - it will not be bettered.

-Go on.

-How Stanley Bone - secret slumlord -

is exposed by the actions of a whore-runner.

Corruption and sex, Mr Best.

Surely it does not come more honeyed than that.

Oh, yeah, Mama!

I have you now! Where's Reid?

He's out, he may be some time.

Well you're going to tell me. Or I'm going to shoot Hobbs here.

Relax, Hobbs. Man, I'm only joking.

I could no more shoot you than I could shoot my own mother.

Artherton, on the other hand...

As you know, Inspector,

he was one of the first raised up in January by our new council.

Now in March he and his friends agree that the Dockhead slum

in Southwark make way for the S&C Railway and its very first tunnel.

-The Dockhead was also owned and collected by the Stickleton Trust?

-It was.

Thus Mr Bone recommends the compulsory purchase of his own slum.

Mm-hm and profits tidily.

Mr Best, the last I saw you, you made heavy weather of matters

that relate more closely to Mr Bone's personal status.

-I did. It is true.

-Elaborate, if you please?

Mr Bone is a man who came to ambition late.

His youth was not a happy one. Beset with fits.

He is epileptic?

-Was. He eventually found the cure.

-And the cure? Where was it found?

You will let me pass, or you will suck on this iron!

Sir, stop! You can't go in there!

Drake.

Look, I swear I'm not going to shoot you, only...tell Reid...

...that the vial... Lucy's medication... Uh...

What? What is it?

It is amphetamine!

The doctor who gave Mr Bone his cure.

-His name is Crabbe, is it not?

-It is, Mr Reid.

We go. Ah, one last question. You jibed about his bachelor status.

What did you mean by this?

That is the last piece of my puzzle, Mr Reid.

There was tell he had a woman cached away somewhere

and a set of bastards, too.

And did you find them?

Never could, Mr Reid. More's the pity, eh?

Indeed.

Your carriage is here.

A carriage that takes you to honour the latest chapter of your ever more celebrated life in this city.

Think on that.

Remember how you lived the first you came to me -

cursed by fits and reliance on your merciless wife.

Do you think I forget? Am I not grateful for what you have done for me?

I question your commitment to all that still lies ahead of us.

Roach silenced the woman.

I have had the children separated and removed a hundred mile from here, as you suggested.

I do not refer to your unloved bastards, as you well know.

It was your success had this sanatorium built,

and she my gift to you in return.

A child, blooming into woman, who would see in you

not the stammering lunatic of your youth,

but a vision of strength and hope.

You have enjoyed her.

But she is all used now.

And must have her mind cleaned of all she knows of you.

But she is so young...

She too may find the temperance you have led me toward.

No. She grows ever more disturbed. And this Reid draws close.

I will not allow you to make ruins of the life I have built for you.

She must be silenced so put her from your mind,

as you have the memory of the man you once were.

And leave me to bring her a more permanent peace.

Karl, I would say goodbye.

Thank you, nurse.

Stanley?

Say what you need to say.

Goodbye, Lucy, goodbye, my love.

Stanley? Stanley, where do they take me?

I... I've got another inside me, Stanley, I got another. Stanley?

It's all right, Councillor Bone.

We cannot build a railway without that we demolish a slum or two.

Sta...

Wait. That was Bone!

It can wait. We keep our course.

Hush, Lucy. Shh, imagine it.

A calm entire. Hmm, no questions, no hurtful thoughts.

No urgent and unhappy desires.

Simply peace.

You found us.

It was not easy. You've hidden this refuge well.

But that is a benefit to those you house.

-It is.

-Miss Goren?

Inspector.

Nicholas? Betsy? Hello!

Come here, you!

Come on, let's go inside, shall we? And show you the room Mrs Reid has got for us.

Yeah? Come on.

Will you take tea, Miss Goren.

Yes, thank you.

APPLAUSE

Gentlemen! Ladies! The switch is thrown. The line is live.

And beneath this earth here, the electric age forges on.

CHEERING

This railway, this underground railway is the capstone of all that we -

your grateful servants - would build here.

The foundation, ladies and gentlemen, of a new city.

A city that - though it rises from dank and fetid earth -

will gleam with the purpose and clarity of a summer morning.

Because if the future stands for anything - it stands for hope!

You do not have to do this thing.

I do, Inspector.

H Division's Inspector Reid! What intrusion is this?

Yes, Stanley. I still have my wits.

Miss, Miss. What is your name?

Her name is not relevant. Her story is.

I know you, Stanley Bone.

You proclaim to these good people about the future's gleaming hope,

but the tongue you speak with is forked.

And the future you speak of, it is built on evil and corruption.

You had me as your slave, denied our children...

had my mother murdered and you would have sent me to a living hell had it not been for this inspector here.

You are no man, but you are a beast that has risen

deep from the earth in which you dig into.

Mr Stanley Bone!

You halt for the police!

Watch yourself, off the track. Turn it off, somebody!

Christ alive!

You're famous. From a Leman Street cell to the front page in a day.

Someone must be fond of you.

Hmm, such fame is impermanent.

You'd better hope so. Otherwise, it's going to be you and me lacking in permanence.

Whoever we contend with here, they are no ordinary cracksmen.

Again!

-All men stand equal before the law, do they not?

-That is the law.

It is your law. Is it yours?

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd