Edmund Reid Did This Ripper Street

This programme contains graphic violent scenes and scenes which some viewers may find disturbing

The rabbi Leon Ratovski visited London from Paris.

Isaac Bloom killed him in a Whitechapel lane-way and will hang for it.

Those are bite marks, Reid, flesh torn out with teeth.

HE YELLS

-This is a human bite mark.

-And this is the animal hair

that I took from where Gower was found. It's a timber wolf.

-You were meant to care for him.

-And I do. I do.

Susan Hart is about her evil once more.

-Rose, you will stop this now!

-No!

Just try and make me, Bennet Drake!

'Tell me what our eyes now see here.'

What has been done to this man?

CAMERA CLICKS

Quid pro quo.

-The last definite death by my hand.

-And who he?

My father.

No.

No!

Oh!

Wanted to say goodnight.

Mm. Who am I?

-CHILDREN:

-The sandman, Pappy.

-Yeah, and what do I bring?

-CHILDREN:

-Sweet dreams.

-Yeah, well, take 'em and sleep.

Say goodnight to our guest.

-CHILDREN:

-Goodnight, Mr Bennet.

-Go now.

Do not wake me when you come, Don.

Well...

I would not bank on it, woman.

HE CHUCKLES

Ohh...

It is a thing to be happy, Don.

It is.

-And you are.

-I am.

There's no secret to it, Ben.

There is only this.

Do not care for aught but what you may throw your arms about.

Decide who that may be. Forget what remains beyond.

That is no counsel for a copper.

I never said it was.

It is counsel for a man, however...

..who would know what life is, not the other.

FIRE CRACKLES

STREET CHATTER

See, my darling,

how we all like to feel a man in uniform beneath us!

THEY LAUGH

Do you blush on my account, Drum?

It is coarse.

And you are about as far from coarse as a man might imagine, Tilda.

You know, Drum, you must not make a princess out of me.

But that is the way I feel about you, however, Tilda.

A princess to me.

Then you must stop.

There is something I have learned,

and learned to my cost, Samuel Drummond.

It is that life is not a fairy tale,

and that those who seek to make it one too often do so

for the real and felt unhappiness of their actual lives.

-Do you understand?

-I am not unhappy, Mathilda.

I could make you so, however.

I could make you so, and fast.

There are no princesses and no monsters.

Only humans.

Their flesh and bones and all-too-broken hearts.

I am fond of you because you are real.

And I cannot find anything hidden or broken about you.

You must be fond of me, because I, too, am real.

Do you see?

I do.

Real.

-MAN:

-Morning edition of the Star newspaper, sir. Thank you.

Paper!

Whitechapel beast slays again.

Jewish immigrant murdered.

Thank you, sir.

Paper! Paper!

Jewish immigrant murdered.

Where is she?

-Excuse me, sir...

-Sit!

I should have known.

Edmund Reid betrays his badge, his uniform, his brother men.

No, I told you, Inspector Drake, and you would not hear it from me.

I will not stand idle whilst Whitechapel falls beneath terror.

A terror in which I believe Assistant Commissioner Dove to be implicated.

Now, this will break him from his cover.

And break our good name alongside...

Our good name be damned.

Miss Castello, will you show him?

Here. You may recognise Leon Ratovski.

This image recorded the day he led his people out of the Russian Empire.

What are these? Towns? Villages?

They are shtetl.

They are the towns and villages

where the Jewish people of Russia were tolerated to live...for a while.

Until living there became intolerable.

These, then, their journeys as they fled.

Those that made their eventual way to London.

Go on.

I first heard the name Ratovski two years ago

from one who followed him.

A woman,

the only surviving member of her family to have reached London.

And though her grief was still great, so was her gratitude...

..to the man, the rabbi, who had led their caravan west.

I recorded the name Leon Ratovski and then put that record aside.

Until, in time, you heard his name again.

The victim of a murder, about which you, Mr Drake,

would reveal barely more than a sentence of information

until the murderer was named, Isaac Bloom,

another Jewish man to have made such a journey.

Yet still, although I make daily requests for details,

none are forthcoming from you, sir,

or your superior at Scotland Yard, Assistant Commissioner Dove,

who proceeds to injunct all details of your case.

I am afraid I am perverse.

Being barred from asking questions has a tendency to make me ask more.

This week last, I travelled to Paris,

where his friends at the Sorbonne allowed me to remove these photographs.

And these.

They are his diaries, Bennet.

And you have read these?

They are in Ukrainian. He cannot.

-Well, then, they must be translated.

-They are being so.

Rabbi Ratovski's own account of a journey

at the head of 150 men, women and children.

A community of Jews,

then supplemented by a further diaspora.

Christians fleeing north from the Balkan Peninsula.

"In daylight, breaking camp, I see them,

"perhaps 50 yards from us, watching through the trees.

"A wolf pack.

"I say nothing to the group. We walk on.

"The whole day, they follow.

"They are to the south of us, perhaps an hour later to the north.

"We camp at nightfall.

"I instruct fires to be built on our perimeter, and I am asked why.

"I do not need to find an answer, because that is when they begin to howl."

WOLVES HOWL

"The first night, they take two. An elderly couple.

"We know nothing of this

"until their screams erupt from the darkness beyond our fires."

SCREAMING

"They scream for what feels like many hours.

"By morning, there is nothing left of them except blood in the snow.

"The following night, they come again, but now they take five,

"two young girls among them.

"Again, we must listen to their screams.

"And so it proceeds, day by day, as we walk through the forest.

"We see them close.

"And each night, they attack

"and we listen to our wives, our husbands, our parents, our children, screaming

"and imagine that one night soon, it will be ourselves going beneath their jaws.

"Two weeks, we walk through the forest like this.

"And on the last night, however,

"the wolves take a woman, a Christian woman - Guluba.

"I remember her name because she was the last,

"and also because her two sons attempted to fight the animals.

"Perhaps for this reason, the wolves did not remove her corpse.

"Instead, left her there in the snow, her insides all about her...

"..and the youngest of her sons still clutching at her cold body."

Ratovski told Isaac Bloom

that he had come to London to right a wrong.

And he would only say that this...wrong constituted an abandonment.

The later entries, his arrival in Paris, he...he talks of being broken,

unable to continue, unable to lead his people further.

So the caravan breaks up, men, women, and children going where they may.

And some, we know, correct, Miss Castello, to London.

So perhaps these two brothers were forced to go on without Ratovski.

And was this that abandonment?

Two small boys alone and orphaned, their memories,

who they felt themselves to be,

shaped and fathered by the beast they met in that forest.

Now grown to adulthood.

Homo homoni lupus est.

Man is wolf to man.

Before Ratovski was found, weeks before, do you recall,

Deborah, the talk had started?

A figure seen on rooftops watching those of this community,

what they called the Whitechapel Golem.

So what has become a rabid violence begins with a...surveillance.

Like the wolves stalking the caravan.

Two boys, two Christian boys,

the sons of the wolves' last victim, are given shelter by a Jewish community.

Whilst in their care, they are exposed to this...

..bestial horror.

And now, in adulthood,

one of them seeks to visit the same horror within the same community.

The woman's name.

Do you recall that bird-seller who had a store off the back of Fashion Street?

-I do. I remember him.

-He was a gyppy.

Made great play of it, his Balkan Romani roots.

"Guluba"...

..was the word he used for a dove.

He makes his mother's name English,

redefines himself with it.

Miss Castello...

..you will now set your curiosity

to Assistant Police Commissioner Augustus Dove.

Find him, follow him, report to me.

It will be more than a book you will write.

You will show the world a darkness sat at the heart of Scotland Yard itself.

DOG WHINES

How is it you're alone, Augustus?

I do not know, Rose.

All I know is, it saddens me.

It saddens me something fearful.

Do not be sad, Augustus.

Do not be.

There is...

too much confusion in the world for a young, handsome man to be sad.

Not too far, Connor.

Rose, may I ask you something?

Of course you may.

Your words to me...

your recent words of Miss Hart

and how she and Mr Reid had collaborated on some act of evil.

You said I should keep my secrets.

I did. I know.

Well, who could blame him for it when it...

His daughter...

It was his child.

-But Susan, what she did...

-Rose, forgive me. I do not follow.

It was her father.

Theodore Swift.

Her own...flesh and blood.

And God help him, Bennet...

stood by and watched as they put him in that cellar.

Oh! But I am faithless.

You are not, Rose.

You are nothing of the kind.

What they did was murder.

Two men for three vases.

Does that represent a good deal?

-CROKER:

-Oi, I'll tell you again.

Their blood is on my hands.

-Now, we may waste no time.

-Yes,

I understand that, Croker.

Then take one vase - only one, mind -

to that fence off Radcliffe Highway and get your prize.

I have little choice, do I?

-You've arranged our berths, then?

-Boston the best I can do

-in such short order.

-Boston will serve fine.

Then you bring me my money, hook your child, and I shall waive your fee.

Just a, uh, word, Croker, before I leave.

Come.

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

-That's your boy, is it not?

-He is. Not my blood, but he is my boy.

You know what your boy's been about of late?

Now, most other weeks, I'd just shoot him here and now.

But this ain't other weeks, so I only ask you this.

If I leave my wife with you for another two hours, is she safe?

Well, what is it you accuse him of, Captain?

I cannot vouch for her safety

-if I do not know this.

-GUN CLICKS

Now, you know goddamn well what the threat is.

Now, what he's done, I can only leave that on your conscience, Abel.

But you vouch for her safety.

And you do it now.

-She will be safe.

-On your life, Croker.

On my life.

HE WHISTLES

-What gives, Abel?

-Oh...

Take this to the station house on Leman Street.

-Sir...

-What is it, Sergeant?

Our dead room reaches capacity.

The cage on the customs warehouse on Cutler Street

was blown open last night, two guards killed.

-What thieved?

-Three porcelain vases.

Well, it's your case, Thatcher. You see it through.

Sirs... I think you must see this.

-Captain Jackson?

-Not in his rooms, Inspector.

So it was you who has stripped them?

No, sir. That was myself.

Sergeant Thatcher found the action, uh...not to his taste.

It... It was the wounding, sir.

Blood spilling from the same piece of 'em.

Upper left thorax.

You see, I think the instinct accurate.

It's the same wounding...

when he must kill for necessity.

These...

Mr Nadelman, and Mr Ratovski before him. This...

This is the animal unleashed.

Mr Reid, sir...

which animal?

This is fine work.

But I think you both must leave us now.

What? No!

Inspector...

Get out, Thatcher.

Do we believe Augustus Dove about the thieving of Japanese porcelain also?

And more besides.

Who here carries the biggest truncheon?

What is it you want, small fry?

-Hm?

-You, is it?

-Come on.

-Oi!

-I only came to run you a note.

-Then give it.

Out.

Tip-off.

Cutler Street job. Knows where the item's to be fenced.

-Drum! What do you do?

-The Inspectors.

Inspectors be bollocksed. This is our bloody collar.

Parker?

No.

I'm Thatcher. P...

Thatcher...

Bloody thieving, conniving,

backstabbing...

Americans.

Goddamn it.

HE SIGHS

HE BREATHES DEEPLY

HE SIGHS

There's some morphine about the place.

Just do me a favour and fix 'em up with some brandy, because my head is broke...

HE GROANS

Everything you know...now.

I know you punch like a choirboy.

Whooph!

JACKSON COUGHS

HE GRUNTS AND SIGHS

There's a rope with your name on it, and soon.

Look, Drake, I'd really like to help.

Really I would. But I don't know nothing.

So why don't you be a good little nurse and go and get me

-my morphine?

-Bennet, Bennet! Bennet, Bennet...

Oh, what's wrong?

Your two stars still crossed, boys?

REID GROANS

HE SPITS

Why, you're out of conditioning, Reid.

See?

See?

Now, I'm not no surgeon, nor no Pinkerton.

But I'm no fool neither.

These knife wounds are the same.

And as you, with such precision, pointed out...

he who killed Thomas Gower killed this poor immigrant, Nadelman.

Killed Leon Ratovski also.

And now, I believe,

has put his knife between these two men's ribs

during a robbery which you, in one way or another, have partaken.

Any way you choose to slice it, Captain, you're up to your guts in this.

So you tell me who done this!

HE CLICKS CHEEK

Just pass me a smoke, will you?

HE SIGHS

Were you part of this robbery last night?

If you were not, how did you get your hands on this vase?

Well, that's a good many questions, Reid.

Which one's your favourite?

Despite your self-interest, I know that you are not the stripe of man

to let others suffer while you might instead help.

Now, we know not how,

but Augustus Dove himself is somehow also tangled within all.

So I ask you again.

Only help.

I only wish I could, Reid.

HE SIGHS

You know...

I'm glad of something.

The man you were when we first met, the man of war,

man of dread, his leashed fighting dog.

And now all that you have constructed about yourself now, Drake,

is a man of peace, a man of hope.

It's a relief for me to see it.

Just how brittle a carapace that was.

How little...

a man can change.

KNOCK AT DOOR DOOR OPENS

Inspectors...

Sir, she has brung herself here.

Miss Castello, sir. She asks after you.

Have two men lock this whoreson down.

My office.

It is a rare blend our surgeon has taken to smoking.

One cannot imagine its importers being that many and varied.

So get on the line to the shipping office at the Western,

find out who lumps such tobacco ashore for them.

-You're sure?

-I'm afraid so.

Leave us now.

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES They are friends, are they not,

from childhood, schooled together?

Such friends do not walk arm in arm.

Do not care for aught but what you may throw your arms about.

It will not serve anyone, least of all yourself,

to reach a conclusion that you have not seen first-hand

and which you cannot prove.

I see your rage.

I do, but do not feed it.

Leave me for now to...

join this robbery with Mr Dove, and you go home, Bennet.

Go home with love in your heart.

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

PHONE RINGS

Yes? Drummond?

Three different merchants, three different wharf sites.

Only, uh, here's a point of interest, Mr Reid.

Shipping office reports an identical enquiry taking place

a couple of weeks back.

A fellow named Probin, prison doctor.

SNAPS FINGERS

JACKSON SNIFFS

Egyptian.

Nutty, cut with sweetness.

They're strong.

And rare.

Only a very few importers,

so a clear trail to its source.

A trail stepped by another in recent times.

That doctor out of Newgate.

Remember his name?

It was Probin.

He ministered to your wife, I believe...

..before she died.

Or did not die, if Rose Drake is to be believed.

I only mention this out of fellowship and due to the fact that time presses. And...

And I believe you may be able to save me a diversion or two.

Which of the three wharves that land this tobacco should I go to first?

And what would I find there?

Reid, I think you know what it is, you asked me that.

It ain't just a name I'm going to give you.

-I do.

-Then, in fellowship, don't ask it.

I must.

And yet I have no notion of what it is you speak, Reid.

HE STUBS OUT CIGARETTE

Reid...

You be careful down there.

What dangers do I face?

Plenty.

BIRDS CRY

No.

No, no. No.

Ah! No!

SHE PANTS

SHE SOBS SOFTLY

This your sarcophagus, is it, madam?

Where you have come to in your death?

SHE SIGHS

And who else to break me from my tomb but you...

..Mr Reid?

SHE SIGHS

It is fortunate...

that I am in the habit of believing the evidence of my eyes.

I might, like Rose Drake,

consider my wits lost to me, having watched you fall from the scaffold.

At some point in time,

I should be very interested to know how you did it,

although I have some idea,

given that your husband is currently in irons at Leman Street.

Tip-off, apparently.

Apprehended in the process of selling stolen goods,

the anticipated profit from which

to provide the wherewithal for your further flight, I imagine.

Escape?

It is a fine fancy.

But no more than that.

And you, Mr Reid,

a man equally resurrected...

..equally powerless to leave a place...

..come to show me my truth once more.

Yourself, myself...

..attached to Whitechapel as if by lead weights on a river bed.

The betrayal of my husband.

It is the same communication that has brought you in here now?

No. Merely police work.

And who your betrayer?

The wharfinger here, Croker?

So it would seem.

SHE EXHALES HEAVILY

My son.

-Will I see my son?

-Not of current relevance.

I am sure some visitation might be arranged before...

well,

before the law of this land makes one further attempt to see you punished.

I would have...

accepted it, my hanging.

You must understand that, Mr Reid.

I would have given my life in recompose for all I have taken

and...and done it with peace.

But they let me raise my boy.

And once...

..once I had known him...

..I could not relinquish that.

Thus this most recent thieving of yours.

Dead men at your door yet again in your pursuit of freedom.

And I would mourn them.

SHE SIGHS SHARPLY

Then who was it?

Who was it put the knife...? CREAKING

It is you. It is you.

No, no. You take this man's life, Nathaniel, you must take mine first.

You know what it is like to protect,

-and I must protect him, I must.

-Nathaniel, is it?

What was it before? What was it when the wolves came for you?

Who is he?

He's Reid. He's my friend.

-He's police, is he not?

-He is.

You... You are the younger,

you who laid beside your mother in the snow.

And who is the older, Nathaniel?

You tell me. I...

I believe I know, but you tell me, you confirm it.

Did you run to him? Did you confess what you'd done to Ratovski?

I'm sorry, Miss Susan.

-I'm sorry.

-Wait!

Wait!

-DOVE:

-..Thank you.

-ROSE LAUGHS

Half an hour.

Mr Drake, I thought to deliver your wife home.

What is it you thought to deliver her from, Mr Dove?

Bennet, you know full well we are friends.

Well, should I not accept a carriage ride home when all about is uproar?

It is as Rose says, Inspector.

Mrs Drake.

She's Mrs Drake to you.

As Mrs Drake has said, these are dangerous days,

and if it is in my gift to afford you a measure of peace by returning your...

Bennet!

Augustus!

SHE GASPS

Get him away.

Get the boy out, Rose.

Want me to take his eyes away?

Spare your shame for you?

-I will not.

-On your head be it, then, woman.

Your own selfish needs, and I, a slave to each and every one of them. And now this.

Stop it!

What are you...?

-Mm!

-Did you let him touch you?

Have you...? Have you taken him to our bed?

No, Bennet.

DOVE COUGHS

Perhaps she speaks the truth.

But what of your truth, eh?

-Bennet...

-You have...

camouflaged yourself to me with great skill, sir.

But there is a ripe stink about you now.

We have it in the air.

And we are coming for you, Mr Dove.

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

Ohh...

What will happen, Augustus?

All will be well.

My health on it.

You allow it, I will build high walls to make you and your child safe.

Only, you must choose a side now, my Rose.

The cellar.

Where may I find it?

You know already, Augustus.

It was beneath that curiosity shop.

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

MUTED ECHOES OF CROWD'S YELLING

ANGRY SHOUTING FROM OUTSIDE

Book her, Sergeant Drummond.

Yes, Mr Reid.

Name?

Susan Hart.

TRUE name!

Swift.

Caitlin Swift.

DOOR OPENS

Inspector Drake, sir.

Please, sir. There is a unit at Westminster Manor.

Yard...uniforms, A Division, sir, over 50 of 'em.

They've sealed up the Cobden Estate on Sander Street

and they're clearing out the tenants.

TELEGRAPH TAPS

Arrest warrant.

Inspectors Reid and Drake to be...

apprehended and held on the order of Assistant Commissioner Dove.

SHOUTING OUTSIDE CONTINUES

HORSE WHINNIES

Sir... There.

HE COUGHS

-ANGRY SHOUTS FROM OUTSIDE WOMAN:

-Bitch!

What will we do, Bennet? Wait for the first of those men out there

to feel that their prospects might be advanced by our shackling?

We will not.

Perhaps I am only good for the fight after all.

Then let us bring it, Bennet.

-The brothers Dove.

-Susan Hart.

That woman there, the woman Swift,

she saved me from that creature.

He would have had that knife up under my ribs in a trice,

but he obeyed her command.

She and her husband also, they know this Nathaniel.

We find him,

his capture will bring us also his brother.

With me.

Keys.

Stand down, Carter.

Just go.

Get out.

Move!

Get walking.

-.THATCHER:

-Go!

-Drake...

-ANGRY SHOUTS FROM OUTSIDE

My Colt.

Captain Jackson's effects.

Do it, Drummond.

Inspectors, will you not even make it appear as if we tried to do our duty?

GUNSHOTS

CROWD SHOUT ANGRILY

Move!

Do you see her, Bennet?

Call me mad now, will you?

Rose...

Rose, do you have my son?

I don't know how you dare ask.

He is at home being watched by real policemen.

Rose, please, none of this is as I would have wanted it.

You are so dear to me...

MAN: Whoa!

I think you've said your piece now, Mrs Drake.

I ain't even begun, Captain.

Do you know...

what he and I have suffered?

And all for the true love of you.

And we have done it together.

But that love is now broke and forgot.

So you may run.

But do not think you will ever see your son again.

You gave him to me.

You died.

And you remain dead.

And if I see you again, Long Susan,

I will kill you myself.

WHISTLE BLOWS We must run. We must run.

Is it you, Rose?

You who sent Mr Dove to that cellar?

What happened to us?

-JACKSON:

-Drake...

-Drake, now.

-WHISTLE BLOWS

WHISTLE BLOWS

On a hard day, you are a fine sight, Mathilda Reid.

Your eyes do not deceive you, Mathilda. It is her.

Our thanks, Miss Castello. We must speak.

There will be bad things said about me,

things that perhaps you will not recognise as acts I could have carried out.

Then are they true?

Some, yes.

Tilda Reid...

..the girl born to me twice.

-The wonder of the woman you have become.

-No.

Not again, Father. Do not leave me.

You stay close to your Samuel Drummond, understand?

He loves you, will keep you safe.

And, Mathilda, this is the most important.

You must deny me.

You must openly state that any love for your father has been extinguished

by what you have learned of him.

Should you need to speak with me, place a candle in your window.

Miss Castello... You will be watched.

So you play the innocent for now.

Else he will see you dead, understand?

Now we go hunting.

Search the length of Whitechapel High Street and Commercial Road.

Ahem.

Let him through.

Yes, Sergeant Drummond?

Mr Dove, sir, there is a delivery for you.

A boy brought this, sir.

-CROKER:

-Reid put him up and sent him running.

But there is no rathole in Whitechapel where he can hide from me.

TRAIN RUMBLES ABOVE

-Feel this needful, do you?

-I do.

And more besides.

It was you instructed me to keep waries on him.

But I cannot make that my life's sole calling

if the watching of him must be done each and every minute of each and every day.

He can't help himself, and I do not know of any other way of doing it.

He is chained, Abel.

My brother is chained.

As all animals require - chaining or slaying.

-What's that you say?

-Uh...

Only this...

He is past saving, Augustus.

And you and your ever-burgeoning eminence needs protection from him.

-So you think to end his misery.

-I do.

And wish for my sanction.

I do...not require your sanction! The pair of you

would have been ground down for bread had it not been for me.

I do you the respect of telling you, is all.

Augustus...

What's he saying?

UNSHEATHES KNIFE

Augustus... Augustus, please.

I will be better.

I will be calm, I promise.

Go, then.

But make it swift.

It's all right. All right, it's all right. You will be at peace, my boy.

KNIFE CLATTERS

CROKER GROANS

GROANS

MOANS SOFTLY

He is my blood, Abel.

-HE GASPS

-What else would I do?

A cloak.

To reveal the truth of himself.

I think it is unlikely they will return now,

unless it is Augustus Dove and 20 men hoping to make our capture.

Until we are apprehended,

I do not think your Croker will return that creature here.

They're ours, goddamn it, stolen in good faith and worth a bundle.

A bundle we four could well benefit from.

We four? I'm not your brother-in-outlaw-arms.

Oh, are you not? Well, why don't you go trot back to your desk, then?

I believe I have some instinct as to where your quarry may now hide itself.

-Where, do you say?

-Somewhere.

It is a... It is a whole system of tunnels.

-What do you want, brother?

-What do you want?

To live,

grow old, be happy.

Same as me, Augustus, but I cannot,

because what I want...

..is not what I need.

The need never dies, does it, boy?

Storm blows up for a score of wherefores,

but the sailing remains the same.

Augustus, he ain't your mainsail.

He ain't even your anchor.

He is the teeth of the hurricane,

he's your kraken waking.

Perhaps, but he is mine.

VOICES IN THE DISTANCE

Listen, you do not look for me, understand?

Go, brother.

-Hide. I shall find you.

-Yes.

I gave you life.

It is not a gift, Abel.

SHE PANTS

If you weren't dead already, I'd kill you myself.

No...

Where, man? Where is your creature?

GURGLING

Please... Please, Abel, will you tell us?

TRAIN RUMBLES ABOVE

Take parallel paths, then. Our eyes on each other's torch.

SHE SOBS

HE GRUNTS

Come.

Try me once more.

You think me scared of you, do you?

Well, I am not.

I am you, man!

Do you sometimes walk in sunlight and remember what murder...

-Bennet!

-..your hands have made?

-Do you quiver with the power of it?

-Bennet!

Then come.

Come.

Show yourself to me.

It will only be a looking in the mirror, after all.

Believe yourself a cruel man, do you?

Believe this life only a home for that cruelty to breed?

You do not know the bare start of it.

How many, then?

Huh?

Ratovski.

My boy Gower.

The immigrant Nadelman.

Them two guards.

Let us hazard, perhaps, two or three more along the way.

Six, say.

Six is nothing, boy.

I ended 20 men

beneath these hands

in only one half a hot morning.

TRAIN RUMBLES ABOVE

A whole world of cruelty, man.

But I shall tell you this.

There ain't nothing so cruel in this world as the killing of love.

HE GROANS

Feast on me, then.

Cut me open and eat out my heart.

But all you will find there is dust.

HE GROANS

HE CRIES OUT

REID: Bennet!

With me...

With me!

GUNSHOT

GUNSHOTS

Bennet...

Bennet.

Bennet, you fight.

You fight.

No, my friend.

No more fight.

There.

No!