The Strangers' Home, Part 2 Ripper Street

Your wife, in Newgate three years.

-Yeah, I can do math, Drake.

-Yet you still make no plans to visit?

I can't lose you!

Then save me, or else I will die, Matthew.

The rabbi, Leon Ratovski, visited London from Paris.

Isaac Bloom killed him in a Whitechapel laneway and will hang for it.

HE MUMBLES

Mr Bloom, do you know why you are here?

The guilt that men assume is yours?

Isaac did not do such a thing. It is not within him.

-Who else shares this conviction?

-Only myself.

And, I hoped, perhaps yourself.

His name is Sayid Kalim Abdul Al-Qadir. He was my son.

And extreme beliefs beget extreme action, Inspector.

We must put an end to this Muslim Patriotic League.

Is it therefore incumbent upon us, we Muslim men,

advanced by the privilege of our British educations...

HE SHOUTS

MAN GRUNTS IN PAIN

-Mr Drake, sir.

-I believe you wish

to interview this man, Mr Drake.

MEN CHATTER

MAN: Roy, that's your girl Kay!

Christ! No!

No! Kay!

Pune, India. The Deputy Governor of that state

assassinated at a Jubilee tea party by this man - Javed Akhram.

He, as Mr Hafeez,

as Sayid Al-Qadir, your victim,

also a graduate of Deccan College.

Hafeez, do you know who this gentleman is, his back to us?

That, Mr Dove, is Mr Abdul Karim.

-The Munshi?

-The same.

Victoria's brown right arm,

an invited guest to a gathering of our Muslim Patriotic League's top brass,

and here in pleasing colloquy with Mr Imran Hafeez,

your murder suspect.

This, watch report number 3691, Friday 18th of June 1897,

which - for those hard of counting, Mr Drake - is this Friday just passed.

"Subject Hafeez, Imran observed in an urgent gesticulation

"with subject Al-Qadir, Sayid." Your murder victim.

"Shoving and punching between both gentlemen."

And this latter gentleman now washes up, his throat cut, on a Whitechapel dockside.

All this but days from the most significant act of patronage

that our glorious empire has ever known.

Makes me restive, Mr Dove. It makes me urgent curious.

So I shall be taking this Mr Hafeez, and I shall see that curiosity fed.

On whose authority, Mr Constantine?

On my own, Mr Drake.

On that of the realm's inviolability.

Forgive me, Mr Dove.

These spies, it is their business

to imagine threat where none yet exists,

but what we have here in our deadroom is a sight more real

than the fancies he summons up

of Indian cuckoos in our Queen's nest.

Mr Dove, surely you see the greater scale of our priorities here.

Mr Hafeez will be remanded to Inspector Drake's care.

And if I have you overruled?

Who here overrules me?

BOOK SLAMS

Do not think me gone for long.

WOMEN CHATTER

You are fixed to that view today, Miss Susan.

It is of interest to me today.

Of course.

It must go hard to think...

Well, to know that you will not feel that free sky above you after all.

-Do you gloat, Doctor?

-Perhaps a little.

HE LAUGHS SOFTLY

Perhaps I am in fact relieved that the 55 souls you accounted for

will now have their justice.

It, er...it had been troubling me, I, er...do confess.

Well, I'm glad to have removed such disquiet from your conscience.

I wonder...

will you offer a prayer for my soul in return,

as you stand over my corpse and confirm my passing?

-Oh, I shall.

-Hmm.

Perhaps also stand at that commoners' boneyard,

offer greeting to that husband of yours,

as he does what he can to comfort your boy.

HE CHUCKLES QUIETLY

No, God damn you.

HE YELLS

BUZZ OF CONVERSATION

By my reckoning, I'd say you were set on

one form of mischief or another.

You send no news. You don't answer your mail.

-You send none.

-I don't speak for myself.

He's quite the crestfallen soldier for a while or so.

But as you say, I am not the stripe of man for nostalgia,

not then, not now. So, if you forgive me, Reid, I've got bad business to attend.

Do you have any objection to my walking with you?

-Plenty.

-Then call a policeman.

The sea air is agreeable, Reid.

It's brought out the well-fed plutocrat in you.

-That is silver in your beard, is it not?

-It is grey, Reid.

Silver, I'd be drawing a pension.

-Social visit?

-It is not.

Well, why don't you state your business, Reid?

Midsummer it may be, but the day is short.

Isaac Bloom.

-He is sentenced to hang.

-On your conviction.

-Not mine, Reid, not mine.

-You conducted the autopsy.

You assembled the forensical evidence for your inspector.

I did.

But why, Reid? Why the care?

You miss this all so much?

-The care was asked of me.

-Who by?

-Well, it doesn't matter.

-Oh, it doesn't, does it?

-He was my friend.

-So was Drake, Reid.

I don't see you giving one snide farthing for his wellbeing.

Bennet Drake is not one day's grace from the hangman.

Should he find you lurking about the place, however,

putting that mistrustful mind of yours to the querying of his professional conduct...

No man was ever more loyal to another than he to you,

but even he would be moved to your injuring in such a circumstance.

-Which is why I asked you...

-Excuse me.

Do you pay my wages? You do not. He does.

And it's a poor assumption of yours that this faithlessness you imagine

so ingrained in me would, by one simple tug on my tit,

sell Drake out to you!

No, Reid, why don't you find yourself another pigeon?

You follow me, I'm going to shoot you.

MAN SHOUTS ORDERS

You are a sneaky fellow, American.

I do not like sneaky fellows, in truth.

BELL TOLLS OUTSIDE

Now, this, I imagine, is that elephant horn

reported thieved from the customs house.

I prefer "liberated".

That place, they burn it all, you know, if the Crown's duty is not paid.

Why should an honest wharfinger not profit from such thriftless squandering?

Why, indeed?

Because you thieve from the Queen, Abel.

Do you fire your cannons across my bow, Captain...Jackson?

I cannot imagine for why,

when you owe me one sovereign ton for the berth to New York City

I have brokered, in no little secrecy, for you and your wife and child.

I had assumed you came to settle,

but your current manner suggests otherwise.

Do you cancel your billet therefore?

I hope not to.

Yeah, yeah.

-Christ, Abel, what is this stuff?

-Turmeric.

Sweat it down with some onions, diced side of bacon, hot stock.

Good eating.

But the staining...

..it is the very devil.

But enough of my galley skills.

I should like my cash spending from you.

I, er...

-I don't have it.

-Aw....

but I have laid out, Captain, therefore you must also.

-Them's the rules.

-I thought to do so

in alternative currency, however.

HE SCOFFS

Until I can hand you those 100 sovereigns.

Then name your tender.

Knowledge.

We transact under different terms, therefore.

Well, we...we renegotiate the terms.

Those being, Captain?

You, Mr Drake, you think the man correct in his suspicions?

This man, Constantine.

I know him not a good man, sir.

And most every thought he ever had an evil one.

But this... What my son...

What Sayid has written - these are not only evil thoughts.

He has written them. He has proclaimed them.

Major, we understand, do we not,

the difference between thinking a thing and doing a thing?

That it is action which makes matter real, not ideas.

Yet, I do not think such ideas came to him without the influence of Imran Hafeez.

His death, therefore, similarly so.

Well, Mr Hafeez, he is the thinking kind, not the doing kind.

This man Constantine, he wishes to torture him. You understand?

Ideas do not merit such a fate, not in my opinion.

He will not talk to me, Major.

And I believe he might to you.

HINGE SQUEAKS

DOOR SLAMS

It is good of you, Rose, to come at such rapid request.

Of course, Susan.

You are forever my friend.

Then I am indeed fortunate, as is my son.

I do not know what spell I've been beneath

to have neglected the thought for so long.

But I am awake now, Rose, and awoken to a horror...

What horror, Susan?

What is to become of my boy?

Rose, I do not think his father can care for him.

He is not equipped, in my opinion.

Then, Rose, where else will there be for him but the workhouse?

Well...

there is...one home I might think of.

There is?

Ours.

-Yours?

-SHE SNIFFLES

Oh... Oh, I would love him!

Love him fierce, Susan!

And I will forever keep him in mind of the truth of you...

..my friend.

SHE SOBS LOUDLY

-Mrs Drake?

-Hello, Drum.

Is he here?

He is.

Rose?

Jesus Christ! What's the purpose of such machinery if it cannot be...?

-DRAKE:

-'Everything's all right, my love?

'Bennet, I have kept secrets from you.'

OK, this should be good.

Well...

..best you get it off your chest, Rose.

Newgate, Bennet, in the jail there with Miss Susan.

You what, Rose?

Now, Bennet, you swallow

'that rage of yours. Firstly, it's not as if I announce your cuckolding.

'Second, I'm not even close to getting started.'

You are the one in a press, so, the quicker I say this and you agree,

the quicker you may be back at it.

-Well, you tell me what it is I'm agreeing to, then.

-I am trying, Bennet!

There is a little boy we could have.

One who lives already.

One who is in desperate need of us to give him a home, to protect him.

'A little boy who...'

HE HANGS UP

What is it she calls him?

Connor.

-This boy Connor has a father, Rose.

-None that is any use to him.

'Not unless it is the skill to cheat at a gaming table at six in the morning,'

or shoot a bottle of rum off the upturned behind of a musical hoofer,

but not what it is to be a man.

'Not the man you are, Bennet.'

I don't seem to recall you complaining overly when it was your behind, darling.

Slippery soul that you are.

No.

I will not have you stand in judgment of me.

Not you, of all!

They are up there, Captain Jackson - your wife, your child!

And she, as you well know, soon to go to her end, but yet you do not visit.

You pay them no mind!

Your son!

-Your living flesh!

-Are you done?

Er, your man downstairs, he's got staining about the wound.

Now, at first I thought simply contusion, discolouring therefore,

but, all these Indians, it was caused by contact with turmeric.

It's a spice. It's powder. So, my thinking,

it was about the cuffs or the wrists of the sleeve as the knife was pulled across.

Bennet...

Rose, as I said, the boy has a father.

When the mother is...gone,

it is up to Jackson to resolve. Right?

Take him.

This hatred of my empire and Queen, these were my son's true beliefs?

They were, Major Al-Qadir.

I cannot believe he came to them without you.

Hmm.

And which beliefs did he come to because of you?

I am his father.

That is a notional term, sir.

You have a cheek. You always did.

I recall the first time my mother asked him to eat with us.

He said, "I do not eat with my fingers."

My mother asked him why.

He said, "My father says it is so."

My mother asked him, "And where is your father?"

Sayid replied, "He marches to war in Kandahar."

She asked him who it was would then rule in Afghanistan.

He replied...

"Why, the Empress Victoria."

HE SCOFFS

So we showed him how to eat with his hands while you were at war.

If we believe another person is wrong, which is worse?

To persuade that person with violence or with ideas?

And if ideas bring men to violence, if these...ideas

of Sayid's brought another to...

Why will you not speak?

Did you not...care for him?

Like a brother.

And brothers fight.

You are watched, Imran, by men who,

though, yes, we serve the same Queen,

I see no honour in them.

Why did you fight with Sayid?

I do not know who killed your son,

but, yes, we fought.

And we did so because...

..he stole.

Your son was a thief.

They were zakat, Mr Drake, alms.

And it was almost £200 for the Indian merchant seamen

on the docks.

-Lascars?

-Yes, sir.

Funds were raised, to be distributed among those men

who were left without a ship to crew, to...ease their need.

And...

..my Sayid stole it.

He steals the money meant for the lascars, therefore they kill him.

No. See, here, a draft amendment to the Merchant Shipping Act.

Authors, Mr R Ahmad, and Mr SKA Al-Qadir.

"To give more robust and far-reaching legal protection in this country

"to the status of those merchant seamen from the South Asian colonies."

He, Mr Hafeez also, they fight for lascars.

This was a cornerstone of his legal career.

Why would he steal from them, and why would they kill him?

Please, Inspector, there is a particular clause that by law

they would then be allowed to find other work whilst they remain here.

That is cause for more than offence. There are slim pickings down on those docks.

And Mr Sayid lobbied that they be stretched even further to accommodate

men of both different colour and creed. Stevedores, lumpers, lightermen.

All of whom may have cause to handle a cargo of turmeric.

But what of this 200 nicker, sir?

Christ knows.

Mr Drummond, you will by morning

have found each and every shipment of South Asian spices

to have been lumped ashore between St Katherine's and the Isle of Dogs.

Sergeant Thatcher,

the bunkhouse for foreign shipping crews

-on West India Dock Road.

-The Strangers' Home, sir?

Yes - you and I are paying a visit.

We shall see what those lascars know about the thief, Potter Chowdey.

Inspector Drake, sir, if I may.

DS Thatcher has many admirable qualities, but...

I'm not sure the speaking of Urdu is one.

THATCHER SCOFFS

You crowing cock, Drum!

Do you want that snide little nose of yours broke?

Come now, Sergeant, we are one uniform.

Major, would you consider...

Word from the top, Inspector Drake.

Colonial Secretary Chamberlain himself.

You are to release your prisoner to me.

I would not have had it happen this way.

If I learn that this man has been injured or harmed in any way,

your Secretary Chamberlain shall hear from me, sir.

And you imagine he shall give two tosses, do you?

He's the Colonial Secretary, and you're the colonial.

You are to him no more than a trained circus pony.

Best you understand that.

Here is the lesson, Major.

HE CLEARS THROAT

They dress you in this costume

and puff you full of a confected self-importance,

the purpose of which is only this - that we here in this country

may slowly bleed your country dry,

whilst your back is turned, parading in our honour.

Now...

I shall be taking this little...insurrectionist

and putting him under the boot.

Mr Drake, there is not a thing to be done.

There may be now.

However, we will show our special branch that they are dogs

barking up the wrong tree entirely.

Mr Drummond, those dockside work gangs, get to the wires.

Sergeant Thatcher. Major Al-Qadir, sir, with me, if you please.

MURMUR OF VOICES

MEN SHOUT

THEY SING IN URDU

The spice shipments, Assistant Commissioner, all those from South India.

There were five in the last fortnight,

and these are names of those men to lead those work gangs.

One such name chimes heavy with me, sir.

And which one is that, Sergeant?

Teague.

He's a union steward.

One moment, if you will, sir.

His daughter, Kay Teague,

she threw herself off of the dock gates at the Western only this morning.

-That is rich coincidence, Mr Drummond.

-Is it not, sir?

See the news communicates to Inspector Drake.

I will, sir.

-Reassure him that I myself will investigate these others.

-Very good, Assistant Commissioner.

MAN SPEAKS URDU

TRANSLATES: If this man stole, he did so with love in his heart,

and only to give to another in greater need.

And does he have any indication as to whose that greater need might be?

HE SPEAKS IN URDU

HE REPLIES IN URDU

It is thought Sayid had a lover here, who he met here.

He says...um...he says she is a white woman.

Roy Teague's daughter?

We have a testimony here

says there is a young white woman

who shared intimacies with Major Al-Qadir's son.

Understood, Sergeant.

Give my thanks to Mr Dove.

There is a wake we must attend.

Is Roy Teague here?

No, sir. He could not bear the sight and bolted.

BABY CRIES

CROKER CHUCKLES

Ah...!

What trouble brings you here, young Mr Dove?

I've a worry which roots itself in these parts.

Why, you surprise me.

This is that Indian fellow which washed ashore at the Western, then?

This Indian nurtured opinions... on this country, on its ruler...

she who will soon pass not too far from here.

He not only had opinions, Abel.

He had stolen 200 sterling, also.

Two tons? Your masters fear some plot afoot, do they?

I believe it fear alone.

Well...

But there are...other indications bring me down here.

Spice cargoes.

Turmeric.

The work gangs who brought such shipments ashore.

And my name among them.

It was not you nor none of your own who opened the man's throat for him?

It was not me, Augustus.

There is not one atom of life, human or otherwise,

which lands on this stretch of water

without that you know its nature.

This is true.

Then what is at the root of this, Abel?

Well...

£200 gone missing, you say?

HE CHUCKLES

No need to unsettle yourself, my lad.

This is not some grand foreign plot, but local mischief.

You leave dock disorders to dock folk.

Golem!

Stop! Wait!

Please, wait, wait. Wait!

SHOUTING

Goren, Deborah Goren. Deborah Goren?

ALL TALK AT ONCE

Ah...

HE TRIES TO SPEAK HEBREW

She will speak for me. She will speak for me.

CLAMOUR OF VOICES INSIDE

Just wait here.

Please, calm yourselves. My friends, please, calm yourselves!

He was there because I invited him!

-I invited him!

-Why would you invite Edmund Reid,

inspector as he was,

into the rooms of Isaac Bloom?

-Why, Deborah?

-Mr Reid and I, we share, I hope,

a fear that Isaac's conviction may be unsafe.

Is this true?

I had, er... I had hoped to investigate.

MAN SPEAKS IN HEBREW

-No, that was never proved, never.

-What does he say?

There's a belief in the community that it's being haunted by a monster.

Golem.

What gave them this belief?

Well, they said that children awoke with a dark figure standing over their beds,

an etching scratched in the walls, jaws of savage creatures.

Er... On occasion, they thought they had trapped it,

but it was strong and fast,

and leapt from roof to roof.

And this they believe to have been Bloom?

Yes, they believe.

-WHISPERS:

-The boy'll be safe, cared for while we, you know, reassemble ourselves.

How will this reassembling take place?

Yeah, it's all under good control.

But then once we are prepared, all we have to do is take him.

From Rose? It would kill her.

That is a metaphor, darling.

The killing that comes your way, that ain't.

We have no funds with which to run,

-and I will be hunted.

-Don't you see, darling?

That's entirely the beauty of it.

But the man Probyn. It is he who must confirm that the hangman's job is done,

and the bond we had, surely it is broken now.

Ssh, ssh, ssh, ssh.

You're going to leave Probyn to me.

Guns and horses.

No doubt this has been quite the ugliest of days for you.

Our condolences for your daughter.

I will take the drink, Croker.

I don't think I trust you enough to sit.

Fair enough, old son.

Do you have it?

Word is you have something urgent to relay to me

on the subject of my Kay.

Word is, Roy, you do not hand that sack of money to me,

I shall see the whole world apprised of who it was

cut that Indian gentleman's throat for him.

DOOR OPENS

Why would you do such a thing, Roy?

Not for you to question what I do in the interest of my family

or my community.

HE CHUCKLES

Oh, it is murdering has clearly advanced the interests of both those constituents.

Your community's suffering every bluebottle this side of the Aldgate Pub

crawling up its fundament.

And your family, well, Roy...

..it is masterful self-delusion

to think you have helped them one jot.

That gold-skinned grandson of yours...

..where's his ma now?

Oh, you, you were always a hothead and a rabble-rouser,

too eager for a moan and a bullhorn when a moment's contemplation

might have brought you some perspective.

But you are emotional.

HE CHUCKLES And you are political,

always tossing on about the rights of working man,

and forgetting that the rice-eaters and the coolies you hate so much,

that they too are working men.

They are not of this city, and they are not of this country.

Men like that lawyer...

Ah, the Mohammedan lad that was up your Kay, him.

Yes, him!

Telling us we have to compete

for the same scraps as those murdering, moon-faced bastards!

Ah, correct me if I'm wrong, it is you what's done the murdering?

In all truth, Roy, I knew it the moment you kicked up such rage

when I had Nate here wash him up at the Western.

I do like me a pineapple.

How about you?

I like it good enough.

Now, you see, this pineapple

is a lascar brought here on the world's ocean currents.

A piece of fruit is not a man.

But it...it provides for a man, however, eh?

Its cultivation, its shipping, its trade, and so...

such fruits become part of our lives.

Lascars, all their colour, plenty more besides.

Not if working men in this city stay tight.

Ah...you need to take a look about.

There is a city out there

tuned to cheer its Queen as she parades her way through it.

But what is that Queen?

She is an empress, but her empire is not solely England, boy.

It is the world.

And therefore the world comes to London,

and London becomes the world.

This is not because Englishmen are good or pretty...

..but because we understood quicker than all

good trade made for greater power.

Power which you will always lack for, Roy,

until you understand that there is but one boat afloat in this world, and it is this.

-ROY GASPS

-You roll with the future times...

or the future times will roll over you.

ROY GASPS

BLOOD DRIPS

It was a Burmese silk captain showed me that.

Slip a knife between a man's ribs without him even feeling it.

KNIFE SLASHES

See what a man might learn if he opens his heart to the world, Roy?

HE GASPS AND CHOKES

But you, as we know, are an ignorant fellow.

A man of the riverside, and yet you cannot so much as place

a dead man in that river and get him lost.

You need to weigh the cargo down, Roy,

and let your tide help you through.

Nate here knows how.

I showed him.

Yeah.

You are going deep, my friend.

Out into the estuary,

the black river mouth...

..the belly of the seas beyond.

CHOKING

You're the husband, are you not?

I am, Doctor.

What is it you want?

Have you, er... Have you found the wherewithal?

Of a kind.

Well, I'll show you if you ask nice.

Ssh! Ssh!

MUFFLED SPEECH

-Say what?

-MUFFLED RESPONSE

Oh, what do I want?

Well, I want you to help her as you contracted to do.

MUFFLED SPEECH

Are you really going to quibble with a pistol in your mouth?

You don't do this, I will kill you.

How does that sound?

MUFFLED SPEECH

There is no time, however. It...it is but hours away.

I... I... I can't.

The men....the laundry.

The plan cannot work.

Well, there's a new plan, however.

Now, it's you the prison governor's going to look to

-for confirmation of her death, correct?

-Uh-huh.

Mr Bloom.

Mr Bloom!

Will you explain something to me, sir?

If I can.

What is a golem?

It may mean many things.

An unformed being of human shape, but not human,

a monster made by other men to protect or attack.

Children of Whitechapel report seeing such a being, sir -

a dark figure entering the rooms of the young, leaping from rooftops.

My people have avid imaginations.

Your people now imagine that figure to be yourself, Mr Bloom.

But I am not strong. I have no athleticism.

Why would I seek to frighten children?

I... I am occupied!

Do you know a man named Ratovski - a rabbi, also?

Of course. Leon Ratovski's work on vector spaces has been deeply influential,

but...but he... He is dead.

How is he dead?

-He... He is killed.

-At whose hand?

I believe you play games with me.

Then tell me.

By my hand, so it is said.

And do you deny it?

-I was not believed.

-Will you deny it now?

What is the use?

I might believe you!

Your instinct as regards the tidal patterns...

..your workings were sound.

Such strong forces colliding, they will create a vortex.

But the breakwater, this, er, pier, they have built houses the vortex.

Gives it shape, drives it into the land.

So the pier must be removed.

That will not help. Pier, no pier, the vortex is made.

This land...

not to be lived on.

Mr Bloom, please.

Did you kill Leon Ratovski?

Leon Ratovski was my friend.

And did you know he was in Whitechapel?

I did. He visited me.

But he did not come to Whitechapel to visit me.

Then why?

To see another.

He said, to right a wrong.

A wrong? What kind?

An abandonment, he said. A child.

Which?

I promised not to say.

And I would not ask my friends to break an oath.

And he left you then, yes?

Mr Reid,

I could no more kill Leon Ratovski

than I could kill myself.

Ah, Mr Drake. Kind of you to save me the trouble.

You may take your prisoner back yourself.

Mr Hafeez, sir, I am sorry.

I am sorry.

Yes, it is a sadness to cause such suffering without reward.

He told you nothing, then?

No, no. Too much, in fact.

Anything I asked him, he screamed confirmation.

Too eager to please, you see.

And I never trust the word of a man who's too eager to please.

Nah...no monster, he.

Your prisoner, Inspector.

Inspector.

What?

I didn't know what to do with him, sir. He waits in your office, therefore.

Who does?

Go and see.

Hello, Bennet.

And this you've done on nothing but the suspicion of one woman?

A woman who... Forgive me, Mr Reid.

I currently lack for energy and therefore tact,

but this is the woman for whom you shamed your wife, is it not?

I did warn you.

What? You knew?

You knew he was here, pushing his refined nose into work he had

-long since abandoned?

-Now, Drake, I merely told him...

-Do not "now" me nothing, Jackson!

I do not know why I should feel the slightest taken aback.

The pair of you always were like two rats in a sack!

-What did he tell you?

-He told me nothing, Bennet.

He made heavy point of it.

Did he tell you how we made the case?

No. As I am trying to say, I know nothing.

Did he tell you about the clothes we found in Bloom's apartment?

Your genius here took fingerprints from the white breast placket of his shirt.

Quite so, Mr Reid, fingerprints.

But accredited this time, given as evidence.

The victim, Rabbi Ratovski's bloody fingerprints

stuck on a shirt of Isaac Bloom.

And not one word of denial did he make, Mr Reid.

He did so to me.

Did you know, Bennet, that Ratovski and Bloom were friends,

students of mathematics together in Paris?

Mr Reid, I do not think you may call me Bennet no longer.

And I care not whether they were students of mathematics or cat shit together!

Follow me, if you will, Mr Reid.

Have a good butcher's at this, Mr Reid.

What's this, compressor technology?

It's a, er, evaporative cycle... ammonia, carbon dioxide, and ether.

Listen to me, the both of you! I do not give

two silent sods about the technology of it.

This, Mr Reid, you should save your shock and awe for this.

Now, we did not release such knowledge to the press,

but you ask him what they are.

What are they, Captain?

Those are bite marks, Reid...

flesh torn out with teeth.

The case file, clause 15...read it.

"Found beneath suspect's cot, one morsel of human flesh.

"Weight one-and-a-half pounds as confirmed by Captain Jackson.

"Characteristics consistent with that removed from victim's thorax."

He will hang.

He will.

He won't be alone, neither.

You will visit her at last, then?

Yeah, last day on Earth - I believe I will.

BELL TOLLS

TRAPDOOR SLAMS OPEN

BABY CRYING

Please, please, Connor, it's for the best.

A song, Rose, he likes a song.

A pinch of cinnamon and brown sugar in hot milk.

Take him.

BABY WAILING

Come, Miss S. You must ready yourself.

BANGING ON DOOR

DOOR OPENS

The three of you in harness once again.

I'm glad you shan't be lonely.

MUTTERS TO HIMSELF

TRAPDOOR SLAMS OPEN

CHEERING

Wrong corpse, Captain.

Ow! Christ, Matthew, you might at least remove this contraption

before you have at me.

Don't ever die for real. Understand?

THUNDER CRACKS

It is true, then.

It is.

I hope you are not angered.

Why would I feel anger, Mr Reid?

My friend is home.

What will you do for work?

I haven't given it too much thought.

Oh.

It would not be so hard, I think, to have a warrant card made for you,

should you wish it.

Needs must, you would work under me, however.

And the man, Bloom, that matter is shut.

The men cannot see me challenged.

Nor will I be.

So, Mr Reid, what is your wish?

Today you return to your duties at Leman Street.

We are lucky indeed to have him back with us.

Father!

-Tommy Riggs, a runaway.

-What possessed you to come back here?

REID: 'I have questions of the workhouse.

'I know a boy in its care may die.'

-DRAKE:

-'You are going beyond here.'

-MAN:

-There is no hope for him.