- Anything interesting?
- Detective Watts. - I’m happy to lend a hand
if so. My plants are at risk of getting too much attention.
It’s been so quiet lately.
Uh...
Mr. Ethan Marshall has been reported missing
by the matron at his rooming house.
- When did this matron last see him?
- Uh, uh, five weeks ago.
He was having an argument with a young nurse
he’d been courting.
- Disappeared after a lover’s spat.
Not particularly unusual.
- Are either of you free to join me
at a potential crime scene? - Potential?
A body was found in a burnt-out truck
on Bright Street near Queen.
- Oh! That is in the vicinity
of Mr. Marshall’s rooming house.
- You think it possible he was consumed by the fires of love?
I think it possible you take far too poetic
a notion of the situation.
Poetry aside, I would appreciate
one of you come with me.
- I can do it. - Oh. I-I’ll go. I’ll go.
Fires of love and all of that aside,
the proximity to Mr. Marshall’s home oughtn’t be ignored.
- Oh!
- Did the fire department give any inclination
of how the fire started?
- An accident, they think.
- Funny sort of accident.
- Where was the body originally found?
- In the driver’s seat, sir. They figured the truck
broke down and he was waiting for help
when fire broke out in the engine.
- That would explain why the hood is up.
- But surely he would have fled once a truck caught fire.
I believe the fire department’s assessment
is incorrect.
The largest concentration of burn is right here
behind the steering wheel. - Hm.
This is where the fire started.
So, unless our victim spontaneously combusted...
- His death was not an accident.
Uh, Henry, if you could--
- If I could...
Sir, is everything all right?
- I-I could have sworn I just saw...
- Saw what?
- Nothing. Nothing, sir.
Henry, if you could canvass the area and see if you can find
anyone that saw the truck prior to the fire breaking out.
- Of course, sir.
- Five foot, seven inches.
- How tall is your missing man?
Detective Murdoch?
- I beg your pardon? - Ethan Marshall.
Did the missing persons report say how tall he is?
- Yes. Six foot, one inch tall.
- Then he’s definitely not your victim.
And lucky for Mr. Marshall, this poor fellow was tortured.
- You’re saying he was alive when the fire started?
- Uh, well, no. There’s no evidence
of smoke inhalation inside of his mouth.
- So the fire was an attempt to hide a murder.
- I believe so,
and these slashes around his brow bone
suggest severe facial trauma.
- I suppose the burns are too severe to hope for finger marks?
- Uh, not necessarily, but it will take some time.
His fingers are burnt too bad for me to use my usual method.
- Surely there’s another avenue
by which to identify the poor man.
- We could try tracing the truck’s serial number.
- Good thinking. You two head back to the scene
and collect it. - Sir, with your permission,
I’ll let Detective Watts handle that.
- Is everything all right, Detective?
- Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?
- You do seem somewhat distracted.
- Not at all.
I simply have a missing person I need to find.
I’d like to speak with nurse Emily Schaunard.
I believe she’s on shift today.
- And I believe I’d like to know who I’m speaking with
before I divulge information about my staff.
- Ah, yes. Apologies.
Detective Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary.
- William Murdoch?
- Yes.
Do we know one another?
- No. No, no, no. Um, well, it’s just
I’m very happy to finally put a face to the name.
Anna Smith, head nurse here on duty.
- Hm. It’s a pleasure.
But I’m afraid I don’t understand...
- I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but
we have a patient here who believes himself to be you.
- Oh. - It’s nothing to concern
yourself with. Delusions are very common
in a place like this.
We have a woman who believes herself to be Cleopatra.
- I see.
- It was Nurse Schaunard you wanted to see?
- Yes, please. - Hm.
I’ll show you to her.
I don’t know what to tell you, Detective.
I haven’t seen Ethan since he broke things off with me.
- And this was five weeks ago, outside of his rooming house?
- That’s right.
Uh, did he happen to give you a reason
why he was breaking things off?
- He told me he was going back to school.
Said I should let him focus on his studies.
It sounds as though you didn’t believe him.
- Of course I didn’t believe him.
He said he was going to study physics.
Is that something that would have been
out of character for him?
Ethan knew as much about
science as I know about philosophy.
- Right. Uh, did he tell you
where he was planning to attend school?
- I didn’t stay around long enough to ask.
- Uh, please.
Is there anyone else who might be able
to tell me where he’s gone?
- You could try speaking with somebody from
the Corbett Company. Ethan works there as a driver.
That is unless he’s quit his job, too.
- Detective, no one I talked to saw the fire break out
or anything else unusual.
- How many people did you talk to?
- 5-5-4-3-2... - A dozen, at least.
- And no one saw anything?
- It’s all warehouses around here.
After dark, it’s like a ghost town.
- Making it a convenient place to torch a truck.
What’s this?
- A strange thing to find in the back of a truck.
Maybe it belonged to the owner?
- Or the victim.
- Excuse me!
- Murdoch. What’re you up to?
Skiving off early?
- N-No. No, sir. I-I was...
- What is it?
- I could have sworn I-I just saw...
- Saw what? What did you see?
- Sir, this is going to sound mad,
but I... I just saw James Gillies.
You’re right.
It does sound mad. Now, come on. Let’s get back to work.
I was prepared to explain it away the first time.
- The first time? - How many times it happen?
- Twice since this morning.
Look, Murdoch, I know better than most
how much that man terrorized you and Julia.
But Gillies is dead.
- I know, sir. I know.
- Well, then, your eyes
are obviously playing tricks on you.
- Sirs, there’s a Mr. Corbett waiting to see you, sir.
He says he doesn’t have all day.
- Right. Thank you, Henry.
- Look, Murdoch, whoever you saw,
it wasn’t James Gillies. It couldn’t have been.
- You’re right.
- The truck was built six months ago.
I’m waiting to hear back from the automobile dealer
as to who it was sold to. - And the burnt body?
- We haven’t yet been able to identify him.
- Hm. - There’s something at
booking desk should help with that.
- What is it? - Miss Hart just dropped off
a set of fingermarks.
- I’ll have Constable Higgins look for a match
in the central database.
- Ah. Tea?
- Do you have anything a tad stronger?
- I’m afraid not.
Is anything wrong?
- I don’t know yet.
I don’t know why you brought me down here.
I told your colleagues at Station House One all I know.
- You’ve spoken to the police
about Mr. Marshall’s disappearance?
I suppose that means I’m not seeing my truck again.
- Mr. Marshall is in possession of one of your vehicles?
- Borrowed one five weeks ago and never returned it.
- What did this truck look like?
It was one of my delivery fleet.
A Model T with a wood deck.
- I believe I know its location.
Um, did Mr. Marshall indicate
what he intended to do with the truck?
- Told me he was going to have an adventure
with an old friend he hadn’t seen in a decade.
Did he happen to give you a name?
- No. All he said was...
they were going to have so much fun.
Welcome to The Murdoch Trap, Detective.
We are going to have so much fun.
- Did he use those exact words?
- I believe so. Why?
- Excuse me a moment.
- You have something?
Our John Doe is Blaine Carpenter.
He’s got quite a record. - What sort of charges?
- Public nuisance, mostly.
He spent some time in an asylum after claiming to hear voices.
Any next of kin? I’d like to confirm the rosary was his.
- Uh, his father works at a shoeshine stand
near the train station. - Perhaps you could
speak with him?
I’ve just learned the owner of the truck is a Mr. Oren--
- Oren Corbett.
- Yes. How did you know?
- Mr. Corbett is in my office.
Apparently, Ethan Marshall stole one of his Model T trucks.
- Given what we know about the body in the truck,
that means Marshall is likely a killer.
- But there’s more.
- This just arrived for you, sir.
Delivery boy was told you should open this immediately.
- Oh! Present for Susannah?
- Something far more sinister.
I’m not done with you yet.
- Bloody hell. That’s James Gillies’ voice.
- It sounds like James Gillies, but I don’t believe it is.
- Then whose voice is it?
- Ethan Marshall.
He’s been masquerading as James Gillies.
- Isn’t Marshall the man that you think
killed your burn victim? - He is.
- Why would he draw attention to himself this way?
- My attention is precisely what he’s after.
He may have even committed
the murder in order to obtain it.
- How can you be so sure that Marshall’s behind all this?
- He’s been leaving me clues. - Such as?
Uh, he left the woman that he had been seeing.
He told her he was going off to study physics,
a subject he’d previously shown absolutely no interest in.
- Physics being the subject that Gillies was studying
when you first met him. - Precisely.
And when Marshall borrowed the truck, he said,
"We are going to have so much fun."
The exact phrase that Gillies used
to taunt me when I was locked in the cage.
- You and this Gillies certainly have been through a lot.
- Well, you don’t know the half of it.
Apart from the hair,
Marshall doesn’t look a bit like Gillies.
How did he manage to transform himself?
- Gillies was a master of disguises.
Perhaps this man is using some of his old tricks.
- This is crackers. - I still don’t understand why
Marshall would go to such lengths.
Perhaps he’s a friend of Gillies, or a, a relative?
See what you can find out, Murdoch.
- Sir. - But be careful!
...for returning what was lost.
As your son was raised, Lord Jesus.
Come in.
- Mrs. Constantina Gillies?
- I’m-- - I know who you are.
You took my son from me.
- I don’t wish to disturb you.
I just need a moment of your time.
- Oh, you want to do it again, do you?
Well, you won’t find what you’re looking for here.
- What do you mean, "Do it again"?
Have you been working with Ethan Marshall?
- Never heard of him.
Now leave my home.
- Not until I get the truth.
What is it you’re after? Revenge?
- Oh, Detective.
I don’t need revenge.
I have experienced something better.
- What’s that?
- The miracle of resurrection.
- Mrs. Gillies,
your son has not been raised from the dead.
- What makes you so sure?
- Science.
Resurrection is an impossibility.
- And that’s why they call it...
a miracle.
You’re telling me that you’ve actually seen your son?
James came home just the other day.
Oh, I thought my heart would burst open at the sight of him.
And you have no doubt that it was actually him?
- None at all.
- Why has he come back, then? What does he want?
- To see his mother, of course.
That and a fresh set of clothes.
You’ve kept all of his things all this time?
What kind of mother would I be if I hadn’t?
- Show me.
- Even as a boy,
my James was a genius.
- He was a murderer.
- He won every science fair,
top of his class at the university,
until you ruined his life.
- Did the man pretending to be James
say anything that would help me find him?
- No.
And I wouldn’t tell you if he had.
Mrs. Gillies, I am investigating a murder.
If you are withholding any--
This is from two weeks ago.
- James brought that with him.
Said if you believed in killer coyotes,
maybe you’d believe in him, too.
- He knew I’d come.
You’d better not try hanging my boy a second time,
do you hear me?
- Ah!
You’ve spoken with Blaine Carpenter’s father.
- How do you know that? - Shoes have been shined.
I had to work my way up to breaking the news to him.
Plus my shoes were looking a bit worse for wear.
- What did Mr. Carpenter have to say?
- He wasn’t aware of any connection
between Blaine and Ethan Marshall.
- And the rosary?
- Uh. Not Blaine’s.
- Then it must belong to Marshall.
Wrong. I tracked them to the church it was made.
- Of your own volition?
St. Basil’s is close to my favourite lunch spot.
- Archer’s. - No, The Castor House.
Oh, is that the one with the painting of doves
above the fireplace? - That’s the one.
- Oh! Their beef wellington is absolutely decadent.
- Oh, the boysenberry pie. - Mmm.
I’m more of a peach cobbler man.
- Mmm...
- What were we talking about?
- The rosary. - Right.
Uh, you see that medal at the centre?
- Saint Ignatius of Loyola.
- Ah, the patron saint of wounded soldiers.
- Yeah, the priest recognized it as belonging
to a British Army veteran named, uh, Harper Voortman.
- This Voortman is a parishioner at St. Basil’s?
- Apparently he used to be in church
every Sunday like clockwork. - Used to be?
- No one has seen him in six weeks.
- Are you saying-- - Marshall may have killed
more than once. Is there an address
for this Mr. Voortman? - Yes. 923 Oak Street.
All right.
- Hello?
Toronto Constabulary. Who’s there?
Isn’t that the question?
- Show yourself.
I don’t think so, Murdoch.
You’ll have to come find me.
- Harper Voortman?
- Who’s asking?
- I’m Detective Llewellyn Watts.
- I-I-I can’t... - I can’t speak right now.
- Oh, no, there’s nothing to be afraid of.
I just have a few questions.
- No, I-I won’t go back there. I can’t!
- I don’t understand. Back where?
- The place where they did this!
- Just what is your aim, Mr. Marshall?
Why do you call me Marshall?
- Because that’s who you are.
- Are you sure of that?
- Let me see your face.
Who did this to you?
- I...
- Hello, Detective.
So nice to see you again.
- Uh, sorry about before. I, uh...
I thought you were trying to take me back to the asylum.
- No. No, no.
I’m here to return this.
I found it in a truck stolen by a Mr. Ethan Marshall.
You know how it could’ve gotten there?
- Mm, it must’ve fallen out of my jacket when I jumped.
- What were the circumstances of you being in the truck
with Marshall?
- I-I don’t know any Marshall.
I don’t remember how I got in the truck. I just...
The last thing I remember was being strapped
to a table at the asylum.
- Let’s start at the beginning.
Why were you sent to this asylum?
- Well, I got tossed in the drunk tank
one too many times.
Judge said I needed treatment.
- You suffer from addiction.
I suffer from the things I saw fighting for the Empire.
When prayer doesn’t allay that suffering,
the booze helps me forget.
- And the surgery was done as some form of treatment?
- It was to stop me from drinking.
The surgery was no treatment. It was torture.
- Was this the person who hurt you?
- No.
- You’re certain? - Positive.
It was a woman.
And before you ask, no, I didn’t see her face.
She was wearing a mask.
It arrived at the station house by courier
first thing this morning.
- Murdoch’s set sail for England?
- He thinks his family’s in danger.
If you believe, indeed,
it was Murdoch that wrote the note.
- Well, this is his handwriting. There’s no doubt about that.
- But don’t you think it’s out of character
for him to leave in the midst of a case?
- You don’t know Murdoch like I know him.
The man would stop at nothing to protect his family.
- Very well.
It really is quite a remarkable resemblance,
isn’t it, Detective Murdoch?
- How did you do it?
And why would you let him, Mr. Marshall?
You are Ethan Marshall, are you not?
- I... I am.
- Do you have any idea who James Gillies was?
Or what he did to my family?
And the horror of it still haunts you, doesn’t it?
So much so that you followed my little FrankenGillies
into the trap I set.
- I don’t know what you’re after this time, Fellows,
but you won’t get away with this.
- Why? ’Cause I was once a lowly hotel detective?
- Because these schemes of yours never work.
Each time you try to outwit me--
- People come and rescue you. - Oh. That won’t happen this time.
You ensured that when you wrote to your colleagues
explaining your extended absence.
One note isn’t going to prevent people
from growing suspicious.
- Well,
I’ll just have to make sure
they hear from you again, won’t I?
- It is time to begin.
- Begin what?
- Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see.
- So both Voortman and Carpenter were institutionalized.
And Miss Hart believes the slashes on Carpenter’s brow
could have been from a surgical procedure.
- But, if the surgeon is a woman,
how does Marshall fit into this?
Is he connected to the asylum in some way?
- Not that I know of.
Although...
- Although what?
- Detective Murdoch mentioned
Marshall was seeing a young nurse.
Yes! Yes, that’s it. Emily Schaunard works as a nurse
at the Walsh Asylum.
But according to the detective’s notes,
Marshall ended things with her just before he disappeared.
- Could be a ruse. - Could be a ruse.
- Oh!
- What’s the point of this? - A reference.
Uh, like those photographs you take
of the men you incarcerate.
- I’m not the criminal here, Mr. Fellows.
- Are you certain of that?
As certain as I am that you’ll be behind bars
by the end of the day. Be still.
I need to examine you.
- Just what are you planning?
- Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about that.
- His jawline is not as strong as you suggested.
- His jaw is fine!
- Fine, yes. - But I was expecting chiseled.
This is... average, at best.
- Average?!
I need to change my whole plan now, hm?
- Get your hands off of me!
- As you wish. For the moment.
I will admit...
his facial proportions are quite good.
- Quite good? Are you serious?
The man is an Adonis, a god to women,
the envy of every man!
Not for very much longer.
- What’s that supposed to mean?
Are you planning to turn me into another one
of your James Gillies?
Of course not.
I would never do anything so pedestrian
as to repeat myself.
- Let me out of here!
- Murdoch’s in trouble.
What’s convinced you of that since this morning?
- I received this telegram from Dr. Ogden.
She didn’t know a thing about this supposed trip to London.
So, I took another look at this.
What is it you saw that you didn’t see before?
- Ink splotches.
Murdoch’s handwriting is usually neat as a pin. But here--
- It’s as though his pen was malfunctioning.
- I think he’s done it on purpose.
Look at each letter beneath the splotches.
H-E-L...
- He’s asking for help. But where?! And how?
- I’ve no idea. - But what we need... Oh no.
- What?
- I bet he’s using a code.
- I beg your pardon?
I know this is a lot to take in, Nurse Smith.
- A lot to take in?
You have just informed me that one of my staff members,
which I am responsible for,
has been operating on patients’ faces for sport.
Now...
...which patients have been disfigured?
I’d like to find their files.
- Major Harper Voortman and Blaine Carpenter.
- Carpenter.
No, I was told that he was discharged.
Major Voortman, as well, several weeks ago.
That was likely a cover story to hide Miss Schaunard’s crimes.
- How has this happened, Detective?
Emily is a nurse. She’s not trained for such things.
- Be that as it may... - This is outrageous.
Absolutely outrageous.
I will go fetch her. - I’ll come with you.
- It’s best you don’t, Detective.
Nurse Schaunard is in the women’s ward today.
A male presence would be very upsetting to our patients.
- Right. But she could be very dangerous.
- Don’t worry, Detective.
Our orderlies are more than equipped to handle any trouble.
- If there’s a secret message there,
Murdoch hasn’t used any code I’ve ever seen.
- We must be missing something.
- How can you be sure of that?
- Well, it’s no good asking us for our help
if he’s not trying to tell us how to help him!
How many letters in the alphabet did we shift by?
- A through H, so... Seven.
- Try nine. - Why?
- Look at the four on the address.
- It looks like a nine.
- Let’s try shifting the letters in Murdoch’s note by nine.
- Hm.
- Still gibberish.
- Sometimes a smudge is just a smudge, I suppose.
I’ll dispatch some constables
and retrace Detective Murdoch’s steps.
He was planning on tracking down--
- Bloody hell. Look.
- R-A-L-P-H? Ralph.
- As in Ralph Fellows?
- The man who killed Murdoch’s neighbour?
- And amongst other things.
But he can’t be involved in this.
He’s locked up in a loony bin. - Not the Walsh Asylum.
- Yes. Why? - Detective Watts believes
that a nurse working there is involved with the murder
he’s investigating.
- This must all be connected.
And, Albert, I’m going to find out how.
- What the...?
Alone at last, Detective Murdoch.
Would you care to have a chit-chat?
- I have nothing to say to you.
Say to you. Nothing.
Well?
I’m sure you’re itching to find out what your fate is.
You just have to ask.
- Actually, I’m more curious in finding out
why it is that you remain fixated on me.
- Fixated.
- Fixated. Do you deny it?
- Do you deny it? - Do y... you deny it?
- Mr. Fellows. - Mr. Fellows.
- All right.
Why do you keep repeating everything I say?
- Why do you keep repeating ev--
I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?
- No, I can’t re...
What are you after, Fellows?
- What are you after, Fellows?
- So, this is Mr. Fellows’ room, but I should warn you,
he’s been confused lately.
- Confused how?
Well, the doctor hasn’t diagnosed him officially, but--
- It’s Ralph Fellows. - What’s there to diagnose?
The man is as nutty as a fruitcake.
Now, please, open the door.
Fellows. What’re you reading?
Who gave you Murdoch’s book?
- Patients are permitted reading material.
Not this patient and not this particular book.
Now what’ve you’ve done with Murdoch?
I am William Murdoch.
- Of course you are. - And I’m General Custer.
- What are you doing? - I’m taking the bandages off.
- You can’t do that. - Yes, I can.
- Oh!
- Mr. Arbuckle? - Please don’t hurt me again.
- Oh. Oh...
- What the hell’s going on?
Where’s the real Ralph Fellows?
Remind me, Detective: Are you right-handed or left?
Nurse Smith.
- It’s Schmidt.
- I beg your pardon? - I am no nurse.
And, uh, we have a problem.
- What? - The police are here.
- We have to leave. - No, no. We have to finish.
- But-- - But nothing!
Prepare to operate!
- As you wish.
- This is over.
Give yourself up and you may avoid the noose.
- Well, I’m certain I will.
But I’m not going to surrender.
History has shown how this is going to end.
You are going to lose.
Moments away from facing the knife,
and you still belittle me instead of begging for freedom.
The hubris!
You are a fool, Murdoch!
- Dr. Schmidt is ready to begin.
- And you!
The police would not be onto us
if you hadn’t left the body where they could find it!
The truck had broken down.
- And? - I-I couldn’t very well
carry the body to the dump site.
I-I did what I thought was best.
If we do not get to finish this procedure,
that little nurse friend of yours will be dead.
D-E-A-D. Do you understand?
- Stop wasting time with arguing.
If we begin now,
we have half a chance of finishing.
- That’s the spirit!
When the police find us,
I will have the face of the man
that they are so desperate to save.
- That’s what you’re going to do?
You’re going to take my face off!?
And wear it as your own?!
- Finally the great detective understands.
But that’s just half of the fun.
I’m enjoying living the life I deserved,
with my keen intellect
and my handsome visage to the envy of all.
You will still be here.
You’re never going to fool anyone, Fellows.
The constabulary are on their way,
and when they get here--
They’ll find you in this asylum... with my face.
And who is going to believe anything that famed criminal
madman Ralph Fellows says?
- This won’t work.
A surgery like this will kill us both.
You must know that, Dr. Schmidt.
- The test case worked with flying colours.
There is no reason to believe the full swap
won’t be equally successful.
If we work together, we can--
- We need some music!
FrankenGillies!
Mr. Marshall, please.
- I’m sorry.
- Please!
- Watts, what exactly am I looking at?
- I believe it’s a surgical plan of sorts.
I found it hidden on Nurse Smith’s desk.
- You’re saying that she was working with Fellows
to create a... a James Gillies lookalike?
- Yes. And that lookalike may be your former beau.
- So Ethan isn’t missing?
- He’s been surgically altered.
- Using the features of our patients?
- I know it sounds strange.
Well, that’s the understatement of the year,
- that is, Watts. - I don’t understand
why Ethan would agree to something like this.
There will be time to figure that out later.
Right now, we have to find Smith.
- We have to find Murdoch. - If Smith is working
with Ralph Fellows, they’re likely together.
- Surely they’re not planning to operate on him.
- We can’t rule it out.
- Bloody hell.
Is there an operating theatre in this place?
- Uh, one. But Dr. Chan has it booked all day.
I can’t think of where else they--
- What is it?
- It could be in the old morgue.
It hasn’t been used for years, but--
- Well, where is it?
- That way. In the basement.
- A very small cut here. And here.
And here. And here.
- You’re meant to be a caregiver.
Why would you agree to help Ralph Fellows
with this plan?
- For such a renowned detective,
you make many assumptions, don’t you?
- So the plan to swap faces was yours? Why?
- Do not misunderstand.
Ralph of course wanted to best you.
It’s all he ever talks about.
- Because, for some reason, he’s obsessed with me!
- Obsessed! Please!
Don’t exaggerate, Dr. Schmidt.
I talked about other things.
- But I was always interested
in augmenting facial features.
But simple procedures such as rhinoplasty
no longer held my interest.
I wanted something more.
- She is a visionary, Murdoch.
I spoke with Emily.
She would never want you to be involved in this.
- Emily, you’ve...
So she’s safe?
- Untie me and we can be sure of it.
- How?
- By overpowering them and escaping.
I can do the other one. Untie my feet.
- What are you two whispering about?
- Oh, um, nothing.
- Good, because we’re about to get started.
And as your second greatest foe,
James Gillies, would say,
this is going to be so much fun.
- I couldn’t agree more.
Run, Mr. Marshall!
- Schaunard better not be leading us on
- a wild goose chase. - Her shock seemed sincere.
- Bloody hell. That’s uncanny!
I don’t think so, sunshine. You’re under arrest.
No, I did-I didn’t do any of this by choice.
- ’Course you didn’t. - I swear.
They said they would kill Emily
if I didn’t do what they told me to.
- Is Detective Murdoch in the morgue?
- Yes. They’re about to operate.
- Have to go.
- Don’t go anywhere.
- You think you’re so clever. Bring the sedative. Now!
Not too much. I want him to be awake and aware
of the fate that’s about to befall him.
- I’m sorry, Ralph, but I won’t go to prison for you.
- Coward! I have to do everything myself!
Get back! Get back.
- Drop the knife, Fellows.
Whoa!
- Where is he?
Looking for me?
- ’Til me meet again, Detective.
- I’ll go after him. Find Dr. Schmidt.
- I’ll go after Schmidt!
- It’s over. - There’s nowhere to go.
- You don’t have me beat.
- Put that down.
Not until it does what it’s supposed to.
- Shouldn’t leave things like this lying around.
- This isn’t over. - Oh, it very much is.
- So was he really planning to take your face?
- And replace it with his own.
Sounds like one of Crabtree’s pulp novels.
- What about the hair?
- They didn’t say.
- Even if he had managed to swap the hair,
Fellows would never have fooled anyone.
Well, I’m not so sure about that.
- You can’t be serious.
- When you shaved your moustache,
I didn’t recognize you at first.
What’s my moustache got to do with anything?
- It was your identifying feature.
If it had appeared exactly as it was on someone else,
I might easily have mistaken that person for you.
- Bollocks. - I don’t think it’s bollocks.
And that’s just a moustache; imagine a whole face.
I bet most people wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary
if Ralph Fellows walked in wearing the detective’s face.
- Luckily we’ll never have to find out.
Any word on, uh, Dr. Schmidt’s whereabouts?
- I’ve put out a city-wide alert. We’ll find her.
- As long as she keeps her own face.
- Detective...
I owe you an apology.
- Forgive me, but those words
coming from the mouth of James Gillies...
- Was he really as awful as I’ve heard?
I feel terrible for the... the part I played in that mess.
Will you ever be able to forgive me?
- Any debt you may have owed was repaid
the moment you freed me from those restraints.
You didn’t really believe that you’d get away with this,
did you?
- Come to gloat, have you?
- No, I-I’m genuinely curious.
Did you truly expect that you’d be able to take over
my life and no one would notice?
- I am certain of it.
- And you accuse me of being hubristic.
Mr. Fellows, a person is more than a face and a voice.
I’m sure you thought my inferior mind would let me down.
It’s not just the mind that makes the man, Mr. Fellows.
It’s the soul.
Please.
That’s just a pretty idea to keep idiots in line.
- I shouldn’t be surprised you feel that way.
Goodbye, Mr. Fellows.
- Goodbye, Mr. Fellows.
I am William Murdoch.
Subtitling: difuze