♪ Eight little whores With no hope of heaven
♪ Gladstone may save one Then there'll be seven
♪ Oh! Seven little whores all beggin' for a shilling,
♪ One stays in Heneage Court Then there's a killing
♪ Oh! Six little whores All glad to be alive... ♪
Jack, rip em good and proper!
♪..One sidles up to Jack
♪ Then there are five... ♪
Something to wet your lips, gentlemen?
You see? A den of iniquity.
I shall have it closed by the end of the week! Right as ever, Walter.
Prig. I'll see to him.
So, what d'you make of it?
We're waiting for the entertainment, Rose.
♪..Raise a hue and cry Then there's one less... ♪
I'll be on that stage before long.
Jack's girls started on the floor, same as me.
All's I need is to catch an eye or two,
a rich man to be snared and stand as my patron.
Well, then, your success is assured.
Thank you, Miss Susan.
♪..Four and whore rhyme aright
♪ So do three and me... ♪
Music hall. It's the opium of the masses
and me and you are here for a dose of it. We come to support Rose.
And I thought a change of scenery might improve your mood.
Let's be having ya.
♪..I'll set the town alight 'ere there are two!
You can't hide from Jack.
♪ Two little whores All shivering with fright
♪ Seek a cosy doorway in the middle of the night
♪ Jack's knife flashes...
♪ Then there is but one... ♪ Come 'ere! Let Jack look after ya.
♪ And the last one is the ripest
♪ For Jack's idea of fun, fun, fun, fun, fun... ♪
Walter?
Walter!
Help! Help! Over here, something's happened.
Help! My friend, he's, he's disappeared!
Sir Walter De Souza. London City Council.
Man of influence and authority. And known foe of the music halls.
And now snatched from within one such.
He will scorn them the bitterer now. Ah, Blewett!
Inspector! We are grateful for your alacrity in this matter.
I would shake the hand of the great Inspector Reid.
Enemies we may be in the fictive world -
but I hope I may call you friend, sir.
What?
You play at Ripper?
Whilst you profit!
Come, Inspector. We are artists.
And artists must hold a mirror to the world they see.
You will see my cell and my Sergeant's fists
beating out a confession as to how you conspired to abduct
a city councillor from your own theatre of vice.
No, sir.
Here you see his friend.
We care for him.
Mr Pembury, who was at Mr De Souza's side throughout.
Good evening to you, sir. Will you tell us what has happened?
Sergeant Drake!
Yes, he, he was here... Miss Rose. Beside me.
The lights went black. There was a disturbance.
The lights returned. He'd vanished.
Blewett - this darkness, is it part of the act?
Indeed. Indispensable.
And your workers stage and serving - all accounted for?
Inspector. If I may, I don't see Ettie Leigh, servant girl.
And the last time you saw her, man?
I...my apologies. I only pay proper heed to the girls I...slit, sir.
Excuse me, Sergeant. Ettie told me she'd see to the toff.
You, Rose. As a serving girl, you know the routine?
Like clockwork, Mr Reid.
And the lights are dimmed for how long?
Perhaps 15 seconds.
So to exploit it, one would need similar knowledge. Ettie Leigh?
We will find Sir Walter, Mr Pembury. But your...
your own injuries, sir. The blood is not his own, Inspector.
Your lackey pronounces it so.
Reid.
Take in an entertainment, do we?
Entertainment's a broad term, Inspector.
See, we have blood leading back through the stage door.
Regular smeared intervals.
Your boy Flight rootles around out there already.
Knocked cold and dragged out.
I've scoured the laneway, sir.
What do you observe?
Wheel tracks, sir.
Carriage or cart? From the width of the rim, I would say a cart.
What is it, Constable?
Er, it is excrement. Human, I believe.
A night-soil cart? These streets are piped for sewerage.
It was an artful escape. Everyone would have avoided them.
Flight, throw your light over here.
Cigarette ends where an accomplice must have waited.
Tobacco's damp. I'll dry it out. See what brand was smoked.
Flight, the night-soil men of London. Their numbers dwindle.
Find all those whose collections pass nearby. Sir.
Weed. It's Datura Stramonium - Jimson weed.
Leaf of the Solanaceae family, found courtesy of my American brothers.
Gypsies use it as an analgesic.
And I believe it's being delivered in a new brand of cigarette,
a brand aimed squarely at the ladies.
'Joy cigarettes afford relief in cases of asthma and wheezing
'and with a little perseverance, effect a permanent cure.'
A cigarette for women?
Inspector, sir, I've the night-soil man collected for you.
Sergeant Artherton complained about the odour.
I thought it best, however, not to leave him outdoors.
Mr Urwin, sir.
Mr Urwin, a man has been snatched from Blewett's music hall.
Your cart used for his removal.
No, sir. Myself, my cart - we are blameless, I swear it.
You shall speak, sir, if you have affection for yourself.
My cart...it were thieved, two nights back.
How was it thieved, Mr Urwin?
There was many of them, sir. I fought hard as I could.
But they prevailed, in time.
Vicious, they were. Fierce, like lions.
They were...women,
were they not, Sir Urwin?
This the reason for your reticent shame?
It is, Mr Reid.
It is a crew of women we hunt, Sergeant.
Oh believe me, Mr Artherton. When he hears what I have to share with him,
he will be glad. Do you know, Mr Best,
I keep a list of what might provoke such emotion in the Inspector.
Indeed? Mmm.
Various painful deaths befalling your good self feature frequently.
Quite the charmer, are you not, Sergeant?
I do try, Mr Best.
Oh, now I feel the late hour.
Flight, put an alert out for this man's cart.
Find its resting place, we find De Souza.
What's that? Was that Mr De Souza?
How uncanny, Mr Reid.
I received a letter from that very man just two hours ago,
so I have come visiting to give you prior knowledge of tomorrow's paper.
"I, Sir Walter De Souza, renounce any opposition
"to my fellow LCC member Miss Cobden and her works".
The original?
How I am your friend, Mr Reid.
Mr Best. I wonder, have you ever met Mr Urwin?
I have not had the pleasure, sir.
But I am an admirer of your work.
Mr Urwin is perhaps the last remaining night-soil man
of this parish.
Good evening to you, inspector.
Hop it, Jimmy.
We must assume his female captors to have forced this retraction
of his opposition to Miss Cobden. A Miss in the London County Council?
How this city continues to evolve.
It's a novelty, yes, but her reputation grows.
Over 2,000 votes collected in '89.
Yet more side with her now.
What exactly is this opposition
they seek to end with this declaration of De Souza's?
De Souza has never hidden his bile from Cobden,
or indeed any woman that seeks office.
The first time she voted in the LCC, February this year,
he served her with a writ. Blocked her right to do so again.
And there is more. If he wins his court case,
her actions will be prosecuted as illegal.
Drake, send word to Cobden's office.
In the meantime, any and all we have on the woman.
You weren't being kind, about the music hall?
Come, Rose - you know I am not that.
Who'd have thought it, though.
A man snatched,
the police arriving...
Sergeant Drake.
He seem his self to you?
Happy?
Bella meets a need.
A need you would not.
You mistake my meaning, Miss Susan.
I wish the pair a, a happy union - the happiest.
Come in.
Forgive me intruding. My night's takings here for counting.
Rose, meet Ida, newest to our home here.
But fastest to our gentlemen's hearts already.
Well, I should leave you to your business.
I would not get in the way of Miss Susan's profits.
(I'm proud of you, girl.)
Your new thoroughbred?
Not near so sleek and lovely as you, darling.
Captain.
Captain. One for you, two for me
and 20 for the barber, Silas Duggan.
Would you leave us, please? Yes, Miss Susan.
You think it wise to air your weary gripes in front of that girl?
I just think she should know who she's working for.
So says the police stooge.
Yeah, at least it's honest coin. No! That's an honest pittance.
That does nothing - NOTHING -
to address our currently calamitous situation.
Oh, yeah, and whose fault is that current calamitous situation, Susan?
Hmm?
Who was it did the goddamn deal with Duggan, huh?
Was it me?
There you are, sir. Thank you.
You are not yet due, madam. Should I be flattered?
No. I come with a business proposition.
Indeed. Tenter Street is a concern that makes money. Good money.
I'm aware of this. Then take it. Buy it from me.
But it's already mine.
The premises are yours, but the business is mine.
There would be no outlay for you, other than a fee for my discharge -
on which you and I might agree, and which may provide for
my husband and myself to remove ourselves from this quarter.
It is a good and generous offer, Duggan.
It's true, the house was a pigpen when I gave you tenancy of it.
That house, that income may now be entirely yours.
It will be mine - in due course.
Only should I fail to make payment.
Oh...
but you will fail, one month or the next.
Duggan, please.
I have made you money. Much money.
Now...
I beg you, free me.
But Madam, you may with ease be free. You have always known this.
Come - is an act from which, as you say, you have readily profited,
yet will not perform yourself.
Some might call that hypocrisy.
Fresh bread, baked this morning!
There are places nearby where you can get a hot meals and a cold drink.
Thank you, Miss. God bless you.
Turkish, sir. Ground with a burr-mill,
sugared and blended and akin to tar.
My thanks, Artherton. I just saw the damnedest thing.
This woman I just passed in the street.
No, scratch that, she was not a woman.
Uh-huh. She was a goddess, Reid,
to make even a heathen like you believe.
What are we to make of this, Sergeant?
Another blend for the American, I imagine.
You should have seen her, she had gentle eyes, perfect face.
And the body that one imagines under the... Yes. Thank you, Captain.
Oh, no, please... Do continue on, sir.
I apologise, Councillor Cobden.
He is American and therefore lacking in manners and propriety.
Well, then, we shall get along famously.
Inspector Reid, I take it?
You cannot think me a suspect in Sir Walter's disappearance?
I was with my political agent.
He can act as my witness if my word is not good enough for you.
No, it is not you, but your supporters we are interested in.
For once, the papers bear no lies.
We believe a gang of women did act in your name in snatching De Souza.
Do you know an Ettie Lee?
No. Did you incite any woman to action against De Souza?
To do so would be self murder. How so?
Sir Walter's capture looks set to ruin me. The court case approaches.
If he is not found, is not safe,
I will have lost before I have even begun.
I made a promise to my voters, Inspector.
I want to see it through.
And yet they would darken your name with this criminal act.
Do not think the irony lost on me.
Tell me, what kind of woman supports you. What unites them?
That they work. Or they have work stolen from them.
That they are mistreated by the men who employ them,
ignored, dismissed without due cause,
spoken over, used for carnal pursuits, dispossessed.
The ill-used women of this city could number an army.
They start with a gang.
Tell me, do you keep record of those who seek assistance from you?
It makes me feel quite the dullard, but yes.
Then I would have you share it with me, Councillor.
Will you have them sent over?
So, I am to be deputised to you?
I...
What's this? "Do I qualify for badge and warrant card now?"
You men. Fast eyes through these, if you please.
We search for women with both heavy grievance
and frequent communication with Miss Cobden.
Let's get to it, Sergeant. Sir.
Both men asked for Miss Ida.
Said they would pay over and above.
Good evening to you, sir. Madam.
Miss Ida. Thrice in one week.
We are flattered.
Ida, show your gentleman to your room. Yes, Miss Susan.
That man has had my very best.
First Rose, then Bella,
and neither could lay claim to such regular loyalty.
Along with you, girl. See to refreshments.
Charity!
Charity, fetch a broom. Yes, Miss Susan.
Ida, why are you not with your gentleman?
The gent has particular tastes, Miss Susan.
You wish me to accommodate, do you not?
No. I would speak with him myself.
I do not allow all and every behaviour under my roof.
Please, Miss. I made sure to charge extra.
Who are you?
What have you done?
Help! Help, sir!
Please, help!
What is it girl? Miss Susan. Tenter Street,
she's been taken.
Perkins! Fetch Jackson!
Where?
Where? Ida's room.
Miss Charity...
What's happened to Miss Susan? Go!
Look, this is her earring.
Won by myself at dice.
Charity, what did you see here? What happened?
Miss Susan...taken, sir.
I gathered that, girl, but by who, goddamit?
Which of these sons of bitches...?
Jackson, will you just give the girl some peace?
What's this, Sergeant? Another mewling tart for you to defend?
Captain, Captain, gather yourself. Look...
I do not know any man who would spirit a woman away
into the night without first taking his clothes.
See here? Violence used to take whoever lay here.
Now...
who was it entertained here, girl?
Miss Ida, sir. Our new girl.
And she is here?
No. Disappeared also, sir.
Calm, now, who did you see?
I was in the parlour.
A brick came through the window there when I was sweeping up.
But...
I saw them.
The man and Miss Susan carried between them.
Stowed aboard a cart of some kind, sir.
But Ida herself was not so mistreated.
No, Captain Jackson.
She walked alongside.
Similar method, is it not?
Like De Souza and the girl Ettie who worked there.
The brick, through the window, a distraction also,
as with the blackout at Blewett's. The same means of escape.
The same gang of women, must be? And Susan just got in their way.
Look, there's some dirt here.
This man - the client - this man is the target, the purpose.
His name, Charity?
We all look to our own, sir.
His face is known to me, but...his name is not.
But others have known him in the past.
Miss Rose and, er...Mrs Drake.
We must have them both interviewed. If you would, er...
permit me to interview your wife, Sergeant.
You... Wait! Forgive me, Miss Susan. No harm was meant to come your way.
She wakes then?
I would have audience with you myself. Raine, my name.
I knew I liked the measure of you, first I had eyes on you.
Now, all the more.
Do not force me to make you prisoner.
Friend is much more to my liking. Friend?!
I am attacked in my house, abducted, and brought to this hovel.
My girls.
If any one of them are harmed, I shall slice you lip to tip.
Your premises was all that was required.
Premises! My business! Now ruined. Word will spread.
Which man will now trust in the security of my house?
You do not need such as Ely.
His deeds are evil, as is the man.
You think I have no knowledge of evil men?
Or care either which way for their deeds?
You care for this, then?
Mags.
Ely the cause.
He might as well have done it to her himself.
Come...
Mrs Drake. Good morning. My many thanks.
Study each item in turn.
If we can establish the identity of the client,
it may help us discover Miss Hart's whereabouts.
I set eyes on that bitch Ida, I'll smash her teeth through her jaw.
Shined.
Regular like.
Gutteridge?
Liked to see his face in his toecap.
But he were a big man... and this boot too small.
Hitchley?
Liked to smoke throughout, did he not?
Eridge.
Remember?
Haughty.
Always wished to, you know, finish...
..not inside as such.
Said we was all riddled.
Mrs Drake?
No. See the embroidery.
Eridge wasn't the kind for flowers.
Ely.
Cruel.
Thomas Ely.
His home? His work?
Lawyerman.
My dear Bella, you are brave. You do know that, don't ya?
I shall see you tonight, husband.
Rose.
Mrs Drake.
Sergeant. Miss Rose.
We have a politician, a lawyer.
Men of influence snatched unsuspecting from their daily pursuits
by a gang of women, one of whose number may be planted
amongst those activities.
We may not assume De Souza their first.
So we must search the city's crimes for one similar.
One which may show us where this plotting began. Artherton, Jackson,
he studies the soil stamped into the Tenter Street carpeting, does he not?
He pursues it still, sir. Delicate work.
Very well. Sergeant, you are with me.
Ah, we have another, sir.
Two weeks back. C Division.
A gentleman snatched from his lunchtime stroll
through a department store.
A fire set off, their distraction - a dresser girl, their insider,
she also then disappeared.
Cullington. His work?
Yes, sir. Factory foreman.
Not quite a lawyer or a politician.
No. Which factory?
The Covent Garden shoe-makers.
Before that, however... What?
..the match factory at Bow.
Cullington left after the strike in '88.
The match-girls strike. Quite so, sir.
During the picket, Cullington acted as barrier
between the women and the owners.
After the settlement,
it was felt he no longer had the support of the workforce. The match-girls.
The match-girls. Show me a group of women more ill used than the match-girls.
Miss Cobden.
Miss Cobden, she is committed to those girls.
To answering their grievances, even though their strike is now past.
Phossy jaw! Necrosis of the jawbone.
The phosphorous from the yellow-tipped matches
converts into biphosphonates - these laid down in the bone
to then eat it away. Abscesses lead to brain inflammation, then mutism.
Then death. The Jimson in those smokes.
Taken for pain relief.
Deputations from match-girls.
Here, "They have been trying to get the poor girls to say
"that it is all lies and has been printed and trying to make us
"sign papers that it's all lies."
Papers. Legal papers. Ely, the lawyer.
Papers prepared by him, perhaps?
That is the means by which the strike was laid to rest, sir.
The girls were manipulated into silence, promised improvements in their conditions.
But these improvements so scant that Miss Cobden, others like her,
some of the girls even too, refused to accept this change in provision.
And here is De Souza all set to bring Miss Cobden to heel and silence her.
Cullington - the foreman who refused to hear their complaints,
Ely to serve legal writ,
De Souza to silence their champion. Sergeant, travel to Bow.
Find that factory manager,
hang him by his ankles over one of his dipping vats and have from him
the roll of girls that refused to accept his scant settlement.
Sir.
We are nearing the root and reason of this.
Flight, fetch me coffee.
Go on.
Raine!
What game is this, young lady?!
Hide and seek.
See?
You are not alone in wishing your girls a better measure of living.
Here, they feel part of a family.
They are thieves.
What is this improved life you promise?
One lived behind bars?
One of freedom...compassion.
These girls have been
saved from slavery and disease and given a place...
..a voice.
I insist on everything that was never insisted upon for me.
Education of the self, control of the self, respect of the self.
Rebuilding what was ruined.
Here they are turned to no-one's account but their own. You!
You would have them spread-legging your service
and pocket your 60%.
My girls are treated better than any.
In my care they are tended to when sick, have as much security
as might be afforded them anywhere in this world!
And who profits?
It is my business.
You think yourself a woman liberated and independent.
I do.
And what of the men who leave your house loose and sated?
Do you think on them and what they have enjoyed
so that you can proclaim your liberation?
Come with me.
I've been wounded.
There was a letter-knife in the bedroom.
Ely used it.
A needle and thread, there.
You will oblige me?
I am not one of your mulish girls.
But I cannot ask one of my girls.
I am their leader.
They may not see me so...mortal.
Perhaps you understand?
Your hand is steady.
You wonder at my scars.
First was a carriage.
Same...
one that took my mother from this world.
Left me with nothing but my infant sister,
Ma held in her arms.
The rest - must a woman explain how she came by such...
stripes?
By the hands of men.
Your sister. Is she still amongst you?
She is not.
She helped build this, however.
This kingdom of ours.
You've made all this.
You started with nothing.
I started with everything, and yet nothing is my own.
Not such the independent woman, then?
No.
Many's the woman who has come down here...
..and had her vision of the world changed.
What will it take to change your vision of the world?
These men you have taken.
The revenge you seek.
Everything your sister and yourself have built up -
it will drive it into the dirt.
How dare you speak of her?
What do you know of her?!
I didn't mean...
Or me. Of what we do here!
You - a woman that runs whores!
No. I will not brook any more from you!
Mags!
You have no wish to be our friend?
I shall use you for another purpose.
May I introduce Sir Walter De Souza?
Mr Thomas Ely, you already know.
And Mr Henry Cullington.
Raine, what are you doing?
Raine, stop, please! Please!
No, Raine please, I beg you, think of what you do!
The world will hear us now.
What will they make of you?
For surely a day will come when not only one woman -
but hundreds will take their fully-enfranchised position
among you and none shall remark on it
as anything more than the everyday heartbeat of political life.
Bluntly, sirs - if you are for progress, then you are for me!
Forgive the intrusion, it is born only out of necessity.
Sir Walter?
I'm afraid not, but we are close.
Here, madam - it is a list of all the women from the match factory
who refused settlement for their grievances.
The match-girls? Mmm.
You believe they are responsible for the man's abduction?
And not just the one man, miss.
Please. The names on the list, do any seem familiar to you?
Here, Agnes Thornell.
She came to me with her head and shoulders
entirely obscured with black lace - mourning weeds.
My thanks. We will find her.
You will not succeed, Inspector.
The poor woman died of her phossy jaw.
Her visits to you, was she alone?
No. She led a faction. She and another firebrand.
Well, after Agnes died, I never saw her again.
But I always fancied a familial closeness.
Familial?
Ah, here, another Thornell. Raine. Raine Thornell.
Thank you again, Miss Cobden, good evening.
Raine Thornell...
Nothing. Not a single record.
The wit and resilience to evade the law at every turn.
Miss Susan! I have word for you, Inspector.
Jackson? We have sent for him, sir.
Sit down. I'll get you a drink.
Jesus! Susan!
What did they do to you, darling?
Captain, a moment. These are from separate men?
Not now, Reid. Captain.
Three right-handed index fingers. Cut through
the digital artery...
There is word. "Have the woman Hart carry this bag
"filled with the ransom of 500 guineas compensation
"to Petticoat Lane, tomorrow at four o'clock in the afternoon.
"If neither, she, nor the bag, nor the money are there,
"Masters Cullington, de Souza and Ely will die."
Where are they hid, Miss Hart?
My eyes were bound. I have no idea.
You have no clue?!
Hey - she answered you already, Reid.
Let me fix you up.
500 guineas. The notion of De Souza's imminent death
oiled the wheels somewhat.
Along with my word to the Commissioner that it would not
leave my sight. This division does not bow to ransom demands.
But we may allow ourselves the pretence of doing so.
And how exactly do you intend to hand it off?
As was requested.
Absolutely not! Goddamn it!
She's not going anywhere except home.
Does he speak for you?
He has never yet.
No. Well...?
I shall do it.
What the hell are you doing? You call me his stooge!
Why are you doing this for him?!
I am not doing it for him. I do it for them.
Those girls.
Because perhaps this way they might find a way through this
that does not involve a man and a rope.
Ourselves and the Captain, we will be hidden in plain sight,
alert to your safety.
You will hand the bag to Raine and then you will turn about
and you will leave. And then we shall follow her to wherever it is
they hide and only then, strike.
Retrieve both cash and captives.
If those men are alive, those women will avoid the hangman.
You have my word.
You ARE a dutiful girl.
Raine, whatever your plan, be wise, think again.
The police will take you.
You're guilty of kidnap, ransom - your girls all of them complicit.
Please, I would not see you all hang.
You would do better to have a little faith in womankind.
Wait! Get off me! Get off me! You, stay there. You, stay there!
You did not call out to the police.
I did not.
I would help you and yours.
Plenty enough girls to look to.
I do not require another.
But I come as your equal - your friend, not your charge.
Why would you want my life?
Because perhaps now, I see beneath the surface of my life.
I take orders from a man to come here.
I service the needs of another I call husband.
And yet there is another still...
a man - Duggan - who owns me.
No other soul have I shared this with.
He seeks to trade my debt for my flesh.
Whatever comes to pass...
..you must swear it to yourself,
that you will not cave in to this animal's demands.
The first time changes you...
for ever. I would not want that for you.
Reid, I swear to God, if anything happens to her...
I swear! But what is it you fear?
You saw the pair, same as I, close in congress.
And what exactly is your point?
That too much of this story still remains a mystery.
One that you might still have a hand in unravelling.
Now muzzle your temper, Captain. Return to your laboratory.
That soil may yet lead us to her.
Forgive us, Councillor, we are somewhat pressed.
As I can see, Inspector. I merely wish to let you know
that the woman Raine,
I've a clue as to where she might call home.
Her sister, Agnes,
I was not the first advocate she sought out.
She spoke bitterly of her home parish
where she might have expected succour but received none.
St John at Hackney, Inspector.
Bow matchworks and surrounds.
St John at Hackney. Thanks to Miss Cobden, our search narrows.
There are women located in this section.
The soil burned hard and fast.
That means there's heavy residue of organic matter within it - peat.
Fossilised microscopic remains throughout.
That kind of dirt can only be found in one place - marshland.
Hackney Marshes. Flight, find Urwin,
cover this stretch of ground with him, find his cart. Yes, sir.
Gather it up, girls.
This is our compensation.
We have won at last.
We move out in the morning.
Miss Susan, you're one of us now!
For the first time in my life, I am glad to catch this stench.
Inspector, we have found the girls. Are you sure? Urwin, is it your cart?
Treated poorly, but, yes, mine.
House on Gilpin Road.
Artherton, fetch Captain Jackson. Sir. Thank you, sir. Jimmy.
Where's Raine? Have you seen her?
She's gone downstairs.
Raine? Raine? Your girls wait on you.
Come no further. I will be quick.
This I do for my sister.
You should have paid me heed. Now you are party to this.
You would kill them? You will all hang.
I care not. Not since Agnes.
The rot did not stop at her jaw.
It crept up into her brain, into her skull, into who she was.
Until she did not know even me.
A sister yet stranger.
I was supposed to protect her. Always.
You! Dare whimper like a child(!)
You who would rob my girls of every hope!
No, no, no.
I did not... Do not touch me!
I know you understand me.
When these men burn...
you will, I hope, join us.
Now!
No! You would betray me? You betray yourself.
To the back door.
This is not freedom. Not for your girls. Not for you.
This is blind violence - the preserve of all those
that have left their scars on your back. You have become man, Raine.
No! Don't tell me I am that!
Give it up.
Give it up!
Jackson! Jackson!
Where's Susan? Where's Susan?
No!
Tell me that I am not that!
Tell me I am not that!
(Cut them loose. Cut them loose.)
(...If you kill them, all here will hang.)
(Cut them loose.)
No! No, Raine...
No, no...
Hey, Susan? No...
Susan?
Don't touch me!
No...
Come here.
I intend to protest this outrage
to the very highest level - to the Commissioner himself.
Come to the station with me and I will take a statement, sir.
They killed her. They killed Miss Raine.
If I placed you in harm's way, madam, I am sorry for it.
What will happen to her girls?
I shall do all I can to speak for these women.
They will not see the rope.
But you, why did you run with her?
Raine wanted the best for those girls and so did I.
Life - it singularly fails to reward good intentions.
We want something better for ourselves, better for those we love.
And then...
The city, my readers and myself, all are awash with
relief at your return. None more so than Miss Cobden,
here at my behest. A chance for rapprochement,
and who better than The Star to report it? The truce.
This is how much damage women cause.
But I would rather lose each remaining finger
than shake hands with her.
Print a retraction of the letter forced from me.
My opposition to female involvement in politics...
Miss Cobden, do not think him representative of all of us.
Two more different men I could not think of.
Where Sir Walter is so consumed with meanness, with revenge,
you are a good man, compassionate and right-headed.
What does this mean for you?
I rally my team, fight the good fight -
I think you rather know the drill.
Continue on with his will so set against you and you risk prison.
At least I'd be under your lock and key, Inspector.
Forgive me, I am for ever in jest.
Miss Susan?
Come in, Rose. Come in, Rose.
Oh, Miss Susan.
You cannot imagine my relief
to hear of your safe return.
And...
And happiness which...
Well, is it true, Miss Susan,
what Mr Blewett says,
that you are to stand as my patron?
I would have you close to me, Rose.
Not owned yet again by another man
whose only motives are for his own enrichment, never your own.
Then you are ever my saviour, Miss.
No, Rose. I was never that.
That woman... Raine.
I couldn't see her intentions
but she was a crazy woman, Susan.
I saw her. I thought she was going to take you from me.
I thought...
I thought I was saving you, darling.
The water grows cold. You want me to warm some up for you?
Maybe fetch you some more towels?
No. I want you to leave me in peace.
Detective Flight's face is right, his voice righter still.
In the time available, he's the best we have.
Good morning, Lemonade.
I'll take whiskey from you now, miss.
- What are you offering? - You scare me.
What do you call a dead Englishman?
A good start.
Police.
There will be peace.