Through the evening shadows waning
dark is slain by light divine.
Mystic arts craft unrestraining.
Mighty architect divine.
Hailed eternal to the end,
the master of enlightened art doth through all thy words extend.
To our initiate, let us depart.
Who comes here?
Mr Bernard, who has long been in darkness,
and now seeks to be brought to light.
Having been in a state of darkness,
what is the predominant wish in your heart? Light.
Then let that blessing be restored.
In thy presence doth this man be vying,
begging for they love undying, so mote it be.
Great Architect of the Universe,
grant that this candidate for Masonry
may so dedicate and devote his life to Thy service.
May he be assisted by the secrets of our Masonic art,
and enabled to display the beauties of true godliness.
So mote it be.
I most solemnly swear my devotion to the secrets revealed,
obedience to the Craft, and loyalty to this Lodge,
binding myself under no less penalty
than to have my throat cut across, my tongue torn out
and my body buried in the sea, so help me God.
Brother Initiate, it is with great pleasure that I extend to you,
on behalf of the Craft, a hearty welcome.
Brother Bernard?
Is Brother Junior Steward here?
Bloody hell, he's stopped breathing.
He's dead. Brother Senior Steward?
Yes, sir.
Send for Detective Murdoch. Tell him there's a crime scene in King Solomon's Temple.
His name is Victor Bernard, a newly-entered apprentice.
He applied for his first degree a few months ago.
And he died right in front of you, sir?
Yes, hell of a thing.
Blood oath? Sir, he was drinking...?
Not actual blood, Murdoch. Wine.
And it's been secured.
Right, then. Who brought the wine?
Brother Boswell. He opened it right in front of us.
And who was present during this blood oath?
Lodge members exclusively. Crabtree's got them assembled in another room.
Sirs, the brethren are terribly distraught.
Would you like to speak to them now? Yes, please, George, thank you.
Worshipful Master, Eugene Anderson.
You're not a Mason.
No. How did you know?
Er, there's a handshake, sir.
Brother Anderson, this is Detective Murdoch. I can personally vouch for him.
I understand that we need your detective here, Brother Brackenreid.
But we would all feel more comfortable if
your superior brother led the investigation. You are joking?
Brother Crabtree, you may supervise police proceedings within the Lodge.
George, are you superior to the Inspector here?
Yes, sir. A Mason can advance to the third degree of Freemasonry by choice.
After that, a brother must be expressly invited to ascend to the next level.
And Brother Brackenreid's of fences have kept his invitations at bay.
Contemptuous language, general disobedience...
Contemptuous language, mostly.
Brother Crabtree, the night is getting long. Let's get on with it.
Yes, Brother Crabtree.
How do you suggest we proceed?
I suggest we send for Dr Ogden,
make sure the Brethren are co-operative, and let Detective Murdoch do his job. Very well.
I should also like to pass the reins of the investigation back to the Inspector.
Right. Excellent decision.
Very well then.
Where shall we begin? With you, sir.
Are you an atheist?
I beg your pardon?
Are you an atheist? I ask only because, as our constitution clearly states,
quote, "you cannot allow the stupid atheist to infiltrate we who are obliged to obey the moral law."
No, sir, I am a Catholic.
A Papist. I suppose that's better.
Sir, did you know the victim well?
No. But he showed promise - a sincere wish to be serviceable to the Great Architect of the Universe.
The Great Architect of the Universe?
God. I see.
Do you know of anyone who wanted to harm Victor Bernard?
No - he was a decent, orderly, quiet man.
Had he been having any troubles lately? I wouldn't know.
Was he friends with anyone here?
I suppose the man who first proposed him - Brother Winters.
We met six months ago.
My law firm is in the same building as his accounting firm.
Victor was a clever chap.
Amiable. Very droll.
So you proposed him? Yes.
He was a genuinely great addition to the Brotherhood.
Though I admit I had ulterior motives in sponsoring him.
Such as?
Victor was a brilliant accountant.
Please don't share this with anyone, but I had asked him to look at the Lodge's accounts.
Doesn't the Lodge have its own treasurer? Yes. Elias Boswell.
But let's just say that when he drinks he tends to brag about things he cannot
afford on a banker's salary. You suspected him of skimming funds?
Yes. I thought Victor could discreetly examine the books, do a sort of internal audit.
Did he find anything? I don't know. He wasn't finished.
I see.
There is a dead man in the Temple and he wants to look into our accounts?
Sir, there has been word of concern over your bookkeeping methods.
Which could be mistaken as motive.
The accounts book is kept in a secret, sacred place.
A place it cannot leave. I'm not concerned with showing you the book.
I'm concerned with revealing where it is kept.
Brother Boswell, don't make this difficult. Just show us the book.
Sir... These shapes, what do they mean?
I've seen them throughout the Lodge.
According to history, the architect for each Lodge incorporates the symbols into the design.
It's called the Masonic Cipher.
Cipher? So each shape has a corresponding letter?
That's intriguing.
Sirs!
You must come. He's taking us to the Hiram Room. The Hiram Room? Bloody hell.
The Hiram Room?
Sir, the Hiram Room was named for Hiram Abiff.
He was the legendary chief architect of King Solomon's Temple.
He was murdered for refusing to divulge the Master Mason's secret password. Which is?
Sir, I couldn't possibly tell you.
Where I am about to show you, you must share with no-one.
Particularly the others - they will not be pleased to learn that I let you see this.
The others, sir?
Only 33-Degree Masons have access to the room. We have three of them.
Brother Boswell is one - the other two are away overseas.
What about Anderson?
I thought he was the head... pooh-bah.
Brother Anderson is the Worshipful Master,
but he is not nearly a 33rd Degree Mason.
Degrees and positions at the Lodge are separate affairs.
And really, Murdoch, "pooh-bah"? This isn't Gilbert and Sullivan.
You are all sworn to secrecy.
Especially the Papist.
Excellent.
My.
The accounts book you requested.
An original page of sheet music from The Magic Flute.
Mozart was extremely enlightened.
And a good friend of the man who founded the Illuminati.
But I thought the Illuminati was considered heretical, and officially suppressed.
Yes, of course they were.
Gentlemen, no disrespect intended, but do either of you know anything about accounting?
We've got dues paid, initiation fees, charitable association deposits, and not one withdrawal over ten dollars.
From my understanding of the Lodge's practices, sir, these look to be in order.
That will be Dr Ogden.
Brother Anderson, open that bloody door.
Absolutely not. There's a woman out there.
It's Doctor Ogden. She must come in.
This is outrageous. We have accepted your Papist as a visitor.
But to ask us to allow this woman to... Excuse me, Brothers. Let her in.
It's too much. Sir, a coroner must tend to the body, and Dr Ogden is second to none.
At the very least, she should swear an oath of secrecy.
I think my Hippocratic Oath trumps yours.
Cheeky thing, isn't she?
Yes, that she is.
But she's hardly a thing, sir.
Any initial thoughts, Doctor?
He's quite flushed. Could be a reaction to something.
His tongue is engorged. From the bloody foam around
his mouth, I suspect his throat is swollen shut as well.
He died of asphyxia then?
Yes. From poison, it would seem.
Sir, these Brothers of yours - they're not the most forthcoming bunch.
They're not a bad lot. We do a great deal of work for charity.
I do admit, the rituals are laid on a bit thick.
Yes, the blood oath.
And this from a man who drinks the blood of Christ every Sunday morning.
Sir, we interviewed all of the Masons that were present here this evening.
And none of you seemed to know the victim very well.
Then we'll need to take a closer look, won't we?
Yes, we will.
Sir, I spoke to a few of Victor's fellow boarders.
And what did you learn, George?
Apparently he moved in about eight months ago.
Buried himself in his work. Pretty much kept to himself.
By all accounts, he was a quiet, orderly, very amiable man.
Friends, family? None that were mentioned. Higgins is looking into it.
One interesting thing, sir. Mr Bernard let on recently that
he thought he was being followed by a mystery man of sorts.
That would explain the window. It's been nailed shut.
Had any of the neighbours seen this mystery man? No, sir.
Do you think he could be our killer?
Possibly.
HE WHISTLES
Sir, how many pairs of shoes do you own?
Two.
Myself as well.
These were made in Italy.
The craftsmanship is sublime.
George, do you recognise any of the men in this photograph?
No. Friends from his home town? Wherever that is.
Have you seen anything that would accommodate this key, George?
I haven't, sir.
I hope the Inspector is having better luck with Mr Bernard's employer.
I'm afraid not. Victor Bernard joined Ashner Associates Accounting Company seven months ago.
A first-rate accountant, with a real flair for numbers.
And let me guess, he was described as quiet, orderly and amiable. Yes. Almost to the letter.
Sirs...
I have just been down to the city registry office.
There is no record of Mr Bernard beyond eight months ago.
Well, he didn't just appear out of thin air, did he?
Sirs, Dr Ogden has requested an immediate audience with all of you.
Do you have something for us, Doctor? Yes.
As I first suspected, Victor Bernard died of some sort of toxicity. He was poisoned.
Other than the wine, the stomach was empty, so no poison was ingested prior to the initiation.
And there is no indication of puncture wounds or inhalation of gas.
As fascinating as this is, Doctor, did you really need to drag us all down here? Yes, I think I did.
There's one more very important fact you're going to need to know.
Is that...? Are those...?
You mean to tell me that... Gentlemen, Victor Bernard was a woman.
I passed water with that... That woman standing right beside me.
Fascinating, sir.
What's even more fascinating was that she wasn't just dressing as a man.
She was living her life as a man. But for what purpose? Clearly the woman was insane.
Or, sir, maybe she was an escaped convict, on the run. Or a spy.
Crabtree, you've read too many Penny Dreadfuls.
Not to be indelicate, sir, but the Lodge is an exclusive club,
and where there is exclusivity there are often secrets.
Where there are secrets there are those willing to do anything to keep them.
What do you think we are?
What kind of man do you think would kill a woman for infiltrating a Lodge?
No, no, no. This is ludicrous.
There's obviously been some confusion at the morgue, or... There is no confusion, Mr Anderson.
Victor Bernard was a woman.
And it's obvious that you disapprove of women. Of course I do.
Emotional, erratic creatures.
But to know we were duped by one is cause for humiliation, not anger.
Right, then.
What would have happened had a woman been discovered in the Lodge?
She would have been dismissed quietly and discreetly.
And if anyone knew this secret, it would have been someone who knew him well.
Or rather... her.
I don't understand. I saw Victor several times a week.
He dined regularly at our house.
All that time you'd spent with her, you had no idea she was a woman? No. Never.
You say Victor dined at your home frequently.
Perhaps Mrs Winters sensed something?
Miriam and I have no secrets. None.
Perhaps when you discovered her secret you felt betrayed.
After all, you had been great friends with a man who turned out to be a woman.
Damn it, sir, a friend of mine just died. I...
I wouldn't...
I couldn't... Apparently she was being followed.
Did you know that? No. It appears I didn't know much at all.
So what are we looking for, sir? We need fresh eyes on this.
While investigating the murder of Victor the man, we may have missed
something significant about Victor the woman.
I know exactly what we missed, sir.
The shoes. Not the shoes themselves, but the sheer number of them.
My 16-year-old cousin Penny has an obsession with fashionable footwear.
Sir, I think all women share a strange fascination with shoes.
Surely that's an exaggeration, George. I wouldn't be sure, sir.
Wait, George. Something's different.
There. The picture of Victor and his... her friends. It's gone.
The man with the cane.
George, we may have just passed our killer in the stairwell.
Here, in here.
Carry on down the corridor, George. I'll check out these rooms. Sir.
THEY SHRIEK I, I...
Do not disturb. I believe that's what the sign on the door clearly says.
I...
I apologise, Miss.
You know, it's trying enough, sir, to have to endure these
second-rate facilities passed down from the men's teams,
but to also be denied privacy is quite unacceptable.
I'm very sorry. Or perhaps you're some kind of peeping Tom.
Sir, there's no sign of, er... Hi.
Excuse me!
George, come here.
Er, just, er, just give us a moment.
Victor Bernard's locker, no doubt. Yes.
Masonic Cipher.
Why would she record that?
Sir...
This list of charities...
Our Lodge has raised money for each and every one of these.
Sir, I think this is the audit that Brother Winters was speaking of.
Yes. It would seem Victor, or whoever she was,
was comparing Lodge accounts against those of the actual charities.
We have to get Higgins to find out everything we can about the Treasurer, Mr Boswell.
Excuse me!
That is private property.
Yes, the property of a dead woman, I'm afraid.
Her name is Grace Read.
You know she died in a Masonic Lodge.
Dressed in men's clothing.
Yes. How strange. And aside from playing on this women's
basketball team, it appears she'd been living out her life as a man.
Really?
She was also deathly afraid of someone.
We followed that person to this location.
Do any of you know who he is?
No, sir.
You played basketball with her, yet you knew nothing about her?
I'm sorry, Detective, but outside of these walls, none of us knew anything about her.
They're lying. All of them. So let me get this straight.
A man in the Lodge is killed. Only this man turns out to be a woman
who is somehow connected to a woman's basketball team who seem to be hiding something.
And the thing connecting the two of them is a mystery man with a cane.
With a goatee, sir.
It's complicated, to be sure. Complicated?
It makes no bloody sense whatsoever!
If these basketball girls do know something, let's drag them down the station
and let's scare the living daylights out of them.
A subtler approach might be more effective with this, sir.
Perhaps we could send someone in undercover?
That's a good idea.
But who?
No, no, no.
I'm not wearing a dress. Not again, anyway.
Good evening, gentlemen. Detective, this is all the equipment you should need for testing toxins in the wine.
Julia, have you ever played basketball?
As a matter of fact I have. Why do you ask?
You're very good, Miss Ogden. When you grow up playing with country club boys,
you learn a thing or two.
Lucky for us you dropped in.
Back to it!
The Masonic Cipher. Decoding something, sir?
Yes. And according to her notebook, so was Grace Read.
She was particularly interested in these five symbols.
That shouldn't be too difficult. Five symbols, five letters.
120 permutations, very good, George.
But it's more complicated than that.
For instance, this symbol could represent a P.
But, depending on its orientation, it could also be a T, a V
or an N.
So, sir, if each of the five symbols
potentially represent one in four letters, there must be thousands of variations.
Over two quintillion, George.
Sir, I think we're going to need a bigger blackboard.
Julia Ogden, have I understood you correctly?
You're an unwed doctor living alone.
Yes.
A modern day bachelor girl.
That's the most blissful thing I've ever heard.
Father would rather see me married, bored and unhappy than living a life so free.
He barely tolerates my secretarial work at the law office.
It was a bit of a battle to get where I am. But I have no regrets.
And the men with whom you work, do they think you brazenly improper?
Who knows what men think?
How true.
Julia...
Would you be interested in coming on a little adventure this evening?
Just a little fun amongst us girls.
Not having much luck, sir? No.
I've tested this wine for every toxin I can think of, and nothing.
How are you doing with the bottle and cork?
Equally bad luck, sir. If anybody's interfered with either of these, I can't see how.
Yet Grace Read was poisoned.
But how and with what?
Sir, Doctor Ogden just sent this by messenger.
We're to meet her at The Albany Club on Colborne Street.
Sir, this is a gentlemen's club. Are you sure Dr Ogden meant the Albany?
That's what Higgins wrote down.
Guests of Dr Ogden's.
What are we looking for, sir?
I have no idea.
Have either of you a light?
Sorry.
Thank you. Not at all.
Julia?
Dr Ogden, you look like a man.
Like a... pretty man.
I had no idea a man's suit could be so comfortable.
It's delightful not wearing a corset.
Julia, what on earth are you doing?
You wanted me to find out what the basketball team was hiding. And?
Look around you.
Look closely, William.
Do you recognise any of the men in this photograph?
The women's basketball team.
Those are women?
Sir, they're exceedingly convincing.
What are they doing here? And why dress like that?
It's a sort of club.
They seek experiences that give them liberties exclusive to men.
Sir. He's there.
It's our man with the cane.
That's enough!
Mrs Winters.
Mrs Winters, if you'll follow me, please. Where are you taking her?
The rest of you please have a seat.
I have some questions about Grace Read's murder.
Doctor. Yes, Inspector. Let's talk in my office, shall we?
You, too, Murdoch. Julia?
You rat.
'Well, it's obvious.'
They either killed Grace Read or had something to do with it. In a Mason's Lodge?
I don't see how that's obvious. But they did lie to me.
They were afraid.
Most of them have husbands, fathers, even mothers, who would disown them for doing this.
I don't understand it myself.
The Temperance League, the Suffrage Association, feminists... And now this.
Wearing suits as if dressing like a man will make them one.
They don't want to be men.
They want to be equal. No, they don't.
They have no idea what it takes to be a man, and trust me, love,
when I tell you that they couldn't handle it.
Well, have you anything to say, William?
Yes. I believe these women are our best key to finding out how and why Grace Read died.
We need to speak with them. Right.
Let's get on with it.
Have you no opinion on this matter?
Yes, of course I do. And yet you just stand there.
Am I in trouble? Mrs Winters, I need to know why you were following Grace.
I wasn't. I saw you in her boarding house.
Only to get the photograph back.
So no-one would discover our secret.
Prior to her death, someone had been following Grace. Was it you?
No. Not Miriam.
Someone else was following Gracie.
Who? I don't know.
But she was being followed.
And when she was murdered, we were afraid we might be next.
Is that why, on the night of her death, you didn't tell us that Grace was a woman? Yes.
Plus my husband and all his Brethren were there.
I couldn't risk the social outrage it might cause.
If dressing as a man is so outrageous, why were you doing it?
When Leonard introduced me to Victor,
I somehow sensed he was a woman.
He... She... opened the door to a world I had never known.
We lunched together and we took long walks.
And the respect she commanded as a man...
It was so freeing, in a way that...
Well, that you'll never understand.
Were you also planning to live your life out as a man?
Goodness, no.
Victor was the only one so serious about it.
Gracie didn't care about marriage or family life so much as she wanted to have a career.
But no-one will hire a female accountant. So she interviewed as a man.
And she got the job. Yes.
And it was so exhilarating, being independent.
But then several weeks ago she began to feel like she was being watched.
At first we thought she was being paranoid.
Why did she change her mind?
Well, then Miriam saw him, too.
Victor and I were lunching on King Street when she pointed him out.
Had you seen him before? No, but I clearly remember his face
because it was right before her attack.
What attack? It was awful.
Victor took the tiniest bite of my dessert.
And before I knew what was happening her face grew red and she lost her breath for a few moments.
Could the man have put something in the dessert?
I don't see how.
He arrived after us.
And the bite she took was from my plate.
There. That's the man I saw.
I demand to see my wife. Miriam!
Leonard!
Detective, may I? Mrs Winters, just one more question.
Your dessert, the one that Grace tasted - what was it?
It was vanilla ice cream croquette.
Rolled in crushed peanuts and macaroons, I believe.
I see. Thank you.
Miriam? What in the world is going on here? Who are these people?
Why are you dressed like that?
Leonard, please don't be angry. These are my friends. What kind of friends?
Well, it's a club of sorts. Victor introduced me.
And you kept it from me? Victor's true nature, this secret club...
Yes, Leonard, a secret club.
Just like your secret Masons' club and your secret gentlemen's club and your secret country club.
Miriam, please.
I never meant to keep anything from you.
Nor I.
Leonard, please take me home.
This is our mystery man. Do either of you recognise him?
No. Crabtree? No, sir. We should show this to our fellow Brethren.
I'll call an emergency meeting.
Where's Dr Ogden? I need her help in testing something. Another poison?
Not quite.
Peanuts?
You think this she-man died from peanut poisoning?
It's a possibility. I can't think what else it would be.
Ice cream and macaroons seem even less likely.
So death by peanut is what you're proposing.
It would be exceedingly rare.
However I have read material that supports theories of hypersensitivity to food.
Peanuts are rare enough. To be sensitive to them seems highly unlikely.
Well, there are no traces of peanut protein in the wine.
There you go.
Unless...
Unless we're testing the wrong piece of evidence.
What if the killer ground the peanuts into a fine, liquid, soluble paste,
spread it in the skull, then, when the wine was poured into the skull,
it would have mixed with the peanuts, becoming lethal to Grace.
It's possible. This mystery man could easily have learned of Grace Read's sensitivity
to peanuts from the attack she had while lunching with Miriam Winters. Exactly.
Detective - a word?
What is it, George? Sir, I had Higgins look into Elias Boswell.
He has not one but three bank accounts.
He also has a safety deposit box which he accessed after almost every Masonic charity event.
So he WAS skimming funds from the Lodge?
Yes, and not just for himself. He has a woman of... loose character that he keeps on the side.
Pays for her apartment. Detective!
And sir - your copies.
Thank you, George. Good work.
There is peanut residue in the skull. Gentlemen, this is your murder weapon.
A murder weapon that was kept exclusively at the Lodge.
So now we have a Mason who had access to the skull,
and a killer who knew of Grace Read's sensitivity to peanuts.
Let's hope someone recognises him.
I've never seen him. Nor I.
Please look closely, Brothers. This could be Victor Bernard's killer.
Is that...? Yes, it is.
And if I remember the layout of the second floor correctly,
that's coming from The Hiram Room.
The morality of our Temple has been tested. The Great Architect of the Universe's vengeance is upon us.
Anderson, shut up.
Gentlemen, please step back.
Isn't that the man that was following Grace Read?
Yes, sir. I believe it is. So that's our killer?
It seems so.
According to this, his name is Francis LaChapelle.
He's a private investigator.
Maybe he was following Grace at the behest of the killer. Possibly.
George, find his office and go through it with a fine-toothed comb. Sir.
Constable.
Charming to be back here again.
Doctor. We found the mace beside the body.
I assume it to be the murder weapon.
That would be consistent with a blunt force trauma to the back of the head.
There's minimal blood spatter.
It appears it only took one blow to kill him.
For a religious order, this Temple certainly has its share of problems.
It's not a religion, Doctor.
A set of beliefs embraced with ardour and devotion.
Actually, sir, by definition it is. Murdoch, don't be such a smart-arse. Sir.
Sir, the door was locked before we came in, was it not?
I know what you're thinking. Only one man had access to the room.
The man who let us in.
Grace Read was onto you, wasn't she?
She was sniffing around. Asking questions she shouldn't have.
But she didn't find anything.
The accounting book is kept in The Hiram Room, as always.
This Victor, this Grace woman, never saw it.
Apparently she did. And you knew that.
So you put LaChapelle on the case.
And the two of you killed her in the Lodge.
I've never heard of this LaChapelle. LaChapelle was the only one who knew about your involvement in the murder.
So you got rid of him, too. Listen to me.
I'll admit that I've been skimming funds from the charity fundraiser.
But someone else killed that man in The Hiram Room.
How did they get inside?
You were the only member present with access to that room.
That's what we tell everyone. But anyone can get in if they know where to look.
Brother Brackenreid, I swear it. I swear it on the name of the Great Architect of the Universe.
Great Architect of the Universe.
The code to the combination.
It's written on the floor of the Great Room. In Masonic Cipher.
G-A-O-T-U. It's an acronym - Great Architect of the Universe.
Grace Read broke the code. And the code is the key to the combination.
Yes. Not much of a secret code if you ask me.
If Grace Read figured out how to get in, anybody could have. Including Anderson.
Perhaps he suspected she was a woman, had LaChapelle confirm it, then killed her.
Then what? Killed LaChapelle for blackmail? We're going round in circles.
Very good, George.
Is this everything from LaChapelle's office?
Yes, sir. Someone had definitely been there, sir.
His filing cabinet had been rifled through.
So if there was anything indicating LaChapelle had been investigating Victor... It was likely stolen.
However, sir, these slides - I found those buried deep in another cabinet.
Take a look at this, George.
Sir, it looks like Victor, and he's - She's - sitting with someone.
Let's find out who, shall we?
Sir, it's Grace Read and Miriam Winters.
No, George. It's Victor and Miriam.
I believe I know who murdered Grace Read.
Now all we have to do is trap the killer.
What exactly do you mean when you say you want to break into The Hiram Room?
It's embarrassing, but the Room had been locked before key evidence was collected.
Brother Boswell is keeping the combination close to his chest. What key piece of evidence?
The murder weapon.
Can you not force Boswell's hand?
It would be blasphemous to smash one's way into any room at The Lodge, never mind The Hiram Room.
When were you planning this? Sometime tomorrow.
I can see the Constabulary's dilemma.
I don't like this one little bit. Brother Anderson, it would help us catch a killer. Fine.
Permission granted, if you must.
Mr Winters, you are under arrest.
How did you know? This photograph gave it away.
Anyone looking at this picture would think these two were lovers. You did, didn't you?
Yes.
Miriam and I were closer than any two people could be.
Then she started spending so much time with that man.
That's when you hired LaChapelle to follow Miriam.
But he mistook their friendship as well, and your worst fears were confirmed.
You learned of Victor's sensitivity to peanuts, which led to poisoning the skull.
Then you learned that she was a woman. Yes.
LaChapelle suspected you of killing Victor, so you killed him as well.
I'm so sorry.
But why kill LaChapelle in the Lodge?
He was blackmailing me.
I didn't have the money, but the Lodge did. In The Hiram Room.
How very ironic, sir, since this all began with your concerns over Lodge finances.
I could do without the irony.
Leonard? Where is he? Leonard?
I can't see her now. I can't see her face when she learns what I've done.
I will speak with her.
Sit down, Leonard.
Leonard believed that Victor and I were intimately involved?
He had no idea at the time that Victor was a woman.
I never should have kept that secret.
But then he never should have doubted me.
Unfortunately, his jealousy overcame him.
So because of jealousy, I've lost both the love of my life and my best friend?
I'm terribly sorry.
Leonard once told me that the biggest difference between men and women was that men can keep a cool head.
Women cannot.
What do you make of that?
I guess he was wrong.
Am I interrupting? No. Just catching up on my reading.
I'm quite interested in this hypersensitivities to food.
Obviously, to some people, the peanut can be extremely harmful.
Fascinating.
Is there something you need?
Yes.
I made you angry earlier.
Yes. I don't know why.
The Inspector was being archaic and thick-headed, and you just stood there.
Julia, that was your argument.
And for me to jump in as though you aren't strong enough to handle yourself in the situation
somewhat defeats that argument.
I only wanted your support.
And you have it. Completely.
But I will not rescue you, Julia.
Because from everything I know about you, you don't need it.
Your logic is infuriating.
Not just a little bit winsome?
Perhaps a little. Good.
Now, would you like to tell me more about these food sensitivities?
Yes.
But first, I want you to kiss me.
Like a man.