Ripped By mstoll
- [Engines rumbling] - MAN: Never! It's your fault!
Look at my automobile!
MAN #2: You call this progress?
MAN #1: Yes, it's called progress.
Get with the times, old man.
Who's gonna pay to fix this?
MAN #2: Who's gonna pay for my carriage? Disgraceful.
MAN #1: Disgraceful?
The blinders are for the horse, not you!
MAN #2: As if you could see anything with all that smoke.
MAN #1: Horses should be plowing fields, not on the road!
MAN #2: You shouldn't be on the road in that damn thing.
MAN #1: I had the right of way.
MAN #2: Never you did! You almost killed my horse!
- You've ruined my machine! - Officer!
- CRABTREE: Gentlemen, not now.
- Not now. - Officer! This man...
MURDOCH: Excuse us. Police.
Excuse me. Pardon me. Coming through.
CRABTREE: Toronto Constabulary.
Toronto Constabulary!
- Does that mean anything? - MURDOCH: Please.
- Move out of the way. - CRABTREE: Toronto Constabulary!
Make way. Make way.
[Crowd murmuring]
Excuse me, sir. May I?
[Groans lightly]
Good lord.
Sir, what do we do?
Well, for a start, shut down the church.
[Indistinct shouting]
Ladies, again, if you could just keep your voices down.
Gentlemen, gentlemen. Lads, lads. Settle down.
Tell him it's imperative
that we keep the noise level to a minimum while we're here.
- Man: Excuse me. Excuse me. - Sir, is that clear?
You there!
Sir, your voice.
MAN: What is that loopy bastard doing?
I don't think he's up there on his own accord, sir.
- I need you to lay charges. - I need you to...
My motor's destroyed!
I want you to keep your voice down, sir.
We can't deal with that. We're very busy right now.
[Crowd murmuring]
- Everybody, just please... - MAN: Move! Move!
[Clears throat] Sir? Are you all right?
Do I look all right to you?
Get me off this damned thing.
MURDOCH: I intend to.
Do you have any idea what that is?
No. Just get me down.
Sir...
When they get louder, the thing inside vibrates.
Stop looking at it, and get me down!
- MURDOCH: Um... - RICHARD: Can you hear me?!
Sir, I would advise you to keep your voice down.
Why?
MURDOCH: Because...
...I believe the bomb strapped to your chest may go off
if the sound around it gets too loud.
You realize there are six working factories
in this neighborhood.
Unfortunately, yes.
[Sighs]
RICHARD: Where are you going?
I'm going to help you.
Be quick about it!
MURDOCH: Sir...
for your own sake and for mine, please keep your voice down.
[Indistinct shouting in distance]
Sir?
BRACKEN REID: [Breathes deeply]
Devil of a predicament.
Indeed.
Chap's name is Richard Welsh.
Sole proprietor of Welsh Machine Works.
Turns up at work every morning at the crack of dawn,
except today.
His lead foreman found this in his stead.
MURDOCH: "You are to cease all operations immediately."
Written in Mr. Welsh's own hand.
- Who confirmed this? - She did.
His wife?
Very attractive.
But can talk the hind leg off a donkey.
Mrs. Welsh.
I'm Detective William Mur... - I know. I read the papers.
What is going on, and who is doing this to my husband?
Um, I don't know.
But you intend to find out?
Yes, ma'am.
- CECILY: When? - Mrs. Welsh...
And why aren't you getting him down?
The device that's up there with him, I believe,
is triggered by sound.
If I tamper with it in any way, it might...
What? Blow him up?
Yes, ma'am.
Do you even know if that bomb is real?
Well, I think for your husband's sake,
we should assume that it is.
Um, do you have any idea who might want to do this to him?
No one would want to do this to my husband.
He is a good man who is lifting all around him out of poverty.
Help him.
Well, if your husband
is so important to all of these people,
I would suggest you ask them to keep quiet.
- Lovely lady. - MURDOCH: [Exhales sharply]
CLARKSON: What you are asking is ridiculous.
MURDOCH: On the surface.
CLARKSON: More than just on the surface.
You want me to shut the city down.
MURDOCH: Not the entire city. Just a part of it.
CLARKSON: Its heartbeat.
BRACKEN REID: Sound will detonate the bomb.
Today being the Lord's day, it's quiet. But tomorrow...
CLARKSON: Every factory,
all construction, all civic improvements...
You want me to shut all those things down?
Sir, a man's life is at risk.
If we didn't think extraordinary measures were necessary,
we wouldn't be asking you this.
I'll do what I can. But only because I-I trust you.
Mr. Mayor, this is going to be very unpopular.
Mr. Welsh helped get me elected.
We can at least give him one day.
One day?
[Sighs]
William.
Julia. Thank you for coming.
You wanted to see me? About something important?
Yes, Julia.
- I was hoping that you would... - Yes.
But I haven't finished yet.
[Chuckles] Yes, of course.
Go on.
I-I was wondering
if you might be able to shed some light on something for me.
Oh.
Of course.
What is it, William?
A man has been strapped to the top of a telephone pole
with a bomb attached to him.
Goodness.
Yes. Whoever is responsible
seems to have a strong objection to this man's factory.
- He wants it shut down. - A disgruntled worker?
Yes, but I-I think it may be more than that.
You see, the man has attached a note to the bomb
saying that it will detonate
if there is any sound in the vicinity
greater than the toll of St. Andrew's bell.
Is such a thing possible?
I intend to find out.
What would you like me to do?
I was wondering if you could put together a personality profile
of whoever could be responsible for this.
Perhaps check the Asylum records for anyone who's been admitted
for having a strong aversion to auditory stimuli.
Yes, certainly.
And was there anything else that you wanted?
Perhaps you could be quite quick about it.
Yes. Of course.
[Indistinct conversations]
CECILY: Look at these ghouls,
idling about, hoping they get to see
my husband blown into a million pieces.
Perhaps they're just concerned.
Concerned? These two are taking bets.
How long has your husband's factory
been operating at this location?
Six months now. And why are you asking me this?
Just get him down.
As I told you, ma'am, any attempt from me to take him down
may result in him blowing up.
[Breathes deeply]
This must have been a quiet ward
before your husband opened this factory.
Quiet and poor.
Look at it now.
It's bustling with the sounds of business and opportunity.
Was everyone happy your husband built this factory?
Everyone who wanted to put food in their children's bellies.
Mrs. Welsh, please. I need your help.
There were a few malcontents, but they're fools.
Woolly-headed intellectuals.
Their names?
They call themselves the New Agrarians.
Was the detective speaking to you?!
And what a ridiculous name.
How can agrarianism be new? Industrialization is new.
Urbanization is an abomination
antithetical to the human condition.
Progress is part of evolution.
Urbanization is not progress.
Some would argue otherwise.
Of course they would.
And those "some" are monsters like Mr. Welsh
and all the rest of the industrialists and developers
who are destroying Toronto.
So you consider Mr. Welsh a monster?
Men like him don't care about people.
They're all servants of Moloch.
Would it be safe to say you are enjoying his predicament?
Of course I'm not.
But I can't say I'm unhappy his factory is quiet.
MURDOCH: And who else is pleased with this?
Everyone I know.
Miss Cunnyworth,
if anyone in your organization is capable of more than rhetoric
you would be well advised to tell me.
We're a peaceful organization.
Well, then, if that's the case, you will help me.
Please.
A man's life hangs in the balance.
There is one man, a new member.
His name is Travis McGuire.
He once worked with the monsters.
He told me that toiling in machine work
was like being in the pits of Hades.
[Clanging]
CRABTREE: Sir!
Sir. Sir.
I have to ask you to not do that right now.
Look, I don't care if it's the Lord's day.
I have to make a living.
CRABTREE: It's got nothing to do with the Lord's day.
There is a noise restriction on the entire area.
That's bloody ridiculous.
Well, that's the way it is, sir. You can either pack this up now
or come down to the station house with me.
Well, how long is the restriction?
As long as the Constabulary deems necessary.
So, in the meantime, you'll feed my family?
Sir, I-I promise you, we're working as fast as we can.
Thank you, sir.
Thank you for your understanding.
Dr. Grace.
Hello.
What can I do for you?
I wanted to talk to you for a moment, George.
Right.
I was a fool. I made a dreadful mistake.
I was momentarily distracted by Mr. Garland's charms.
I never realized he was such a cad, and...
[Sighs] I'm so sorry.
I see.
So, you understand?
I understand.
I understand that
if Leslie Garland hadn't turned out to be such a cad
you'd still be with him, rather than me.
George, I didn't mean for it to come out like that.
Well, it came out like that.
CLARKSON: So, you've made no progress?
MURDOCH: We're investigating a number of leads.
But nothing that could be construed as progress?
- MURDOCH: Well... - BRACKEN REID: Mr. Mayor,
to be fair, we've only just begun.
CLARKSON: Then letting you begin may have been a mistake.
MURDOCH: Sir?
MURDOCH: This city cannot exist in stasis.
This is the 20th century.
BRACKEN REID: What are you suggesting?
CLARKSON: Business must return to normal.
At the expense of a man's life?
I am not going to be able to keep the factories shut down.
The wheels of industry must continue to turn.
Well, stop them.
I daresay I can't.
There are at least three companies
who are threatening to defy my orders.
Then I'll bloody arrest them.
- [Siren wailing] - MURDOCH: No.
BRACKEN REID: What the devil is he doing?
- [Wailing stops] - You can't run the siren.
We always run the siren. We're on the way to a fire.
Please do it quietly.
Okay, let's go.
[Horse neighs]
This isn't going to work.
We just need a bit more time, Mr. Mayor.
I'll see what I can do.
But the city is a living, breathing thing.
I can't kill it.
- MURDOCH: He's right. - BRACKEN REID: I know.
A stray train whistle, a ship's horn, anything...
So we need to find the bomber.
Or disarm the bomb.
You work on the machine. I'll work on the people.
So, Mr. McGuire...
Take your hat off.
How long have you been a member of the New Agrarians?
A few months.
And how long have you had it in for Mr. Welsh?
I don't "have it in" for him.
Don't lie to me.
I'm not.
Then what exactly is this?
McGUIRE: I have nothing against the man in question.
Just his business.
You tried to blow it up.
I was attempting to dissuade him
from setting up shop in the middle of the city,
- right where people live. - BRACKEN REID: Dissuade him?
With two sticks of dynamite?
It didn't work.
But I certainly have nothing to do
with the [Laughing] circumstance he finds himself in now.
BRACKEN REID: You find this amusing?
Is anyone else in your group capable?
Of a bomb triggered by sound? No, I very much doubt that.
- Anyone in the ward? - McGUIRE: No one liked him.
- Or his wife. - McGUIRE: And why's that?
They thought because they owned that belching factory
that they were royalty.
They were providing a living wage
to the working man of Toronto.
They're doing no one in this city any favors.
Human beings are not capable of living under such circumstances.
Noise, overcrowding, foul air...
They're turning us into uncivil beasts.
Just like the type who would try to blow up
a man's business and his livelihood?
I call that working for the greater good.
Why did you do that?
Because you're a bloody fool.
CRABTREE: Sir, I have a theory.
What's that, George?
I think this might be the work
of one of Mr. Welsh's competitors.
- [Children laughing] - Lads, lads...
You know, businessmen can be quite vicious.
Possibly, but I'm not entirely convinced
that this is an attack on Mr. Welsh himself
but, rather, what he represents.
What he represents?
Progress.
Well, who would be against progress?
Sir, do you notice that?
What?
Peace and quiet.
It's like a blast of silence.
It's quite enjoyable, I think.
Hmm.
[Birds chirping]
RICHARD: What's going on?
Sir, have you been watching the device?
Only every damn second.
And every time they stir...
[Indistinct conversations]
...the damned thing starts to move.
I just want to... get back to work.
The diaphragm appears to be the key.
- If it vibrates too much... - RICHARD: I blow up.
I understand that.
The question is,
what are you gonna do to make that not the case?
Get this thing off me.
Sir, I'm afraid I can't.
If I disconnect the wrong wire...
Don't say it.
Sir, what about a blanket?
A blanket?
Yes, we'll bring a heavy blanket up to you on a crane.
If we wrap it around, it may dampen the sound.
George, the sound of an industrial crane
too near the device may set it off.
CRABTREE: Well, a balloon, then?
A-A balloon?
Yes, sir. We float a balloon over top of him
and drop the blanket from above.
George, anything near this man,
anything falling over top of the diaphragm
would be far louder than a church bell tolling a mile way.
Will you two stop blathering and get this thing off me?!
[Indistinct conversations]
We're gonna need to quiet these people down.
Sir...
...I'm afraid that any attempt to get you down
might trigger the device.
Then find the bastard who strapped it to me.
Are you sure that you have no idea...
If I did, don't you think I damn well would have told you?
[Sighs]
[Crowd murmuring]
Why aren't you doing anything?
Ma'am, as long as it's quiet, he's in no immediate danger.
No danger?!
He's stuck atop a pole with a bomb strapped to him!
Ma'am, please keep your voice down.
You don't want to be the one to set it off, now, would you?
[Lightly clears throat]
Although, sir, I doubt her voice
- is loud enough... - Yes, George, I know that,
you know that, but we don't need her to know that.
Sir, Mr. Welsh has enemies on all sides.
Even the other industrialists are upset with him
because he pays his employees higher wages.
Could any of them have done this?
Well, we're talking to them, but nothing so far.
Family members?
Despite his abrupt attitude, he seems very well liked.
What of this Travis McGuire?
Sir, the Agrarians...
They just seem like harmless country people, artists.
Bad news, Murdoch.
Just received word from the mayor's office.
He's gonna reopen the factories.
He's signing Mr. Welsh's death warrant.
I explained that to him, but he's under a lot of pressure.
A missed day of business is worth a man's life?
The mayor seems to have convinced himself
that this is nothing more than a hoax.
That's a possibility, sir, but...
But if it isn't, Mr. Welsh...
When is the mayor going to lift the moratorium?
Noon today.
[Exhales sharply]
Three hours to find the person responsible for this?
I know.
Where are you going?
To disarm the bomb.
Gentlemen.
Well, come on, then, Crabtree. Get a move on.
Are you sure you can do this, Murdoch?
Of course I can, sir. I've known how to for years.
BRACKEN REID: So, what happens when you get to the top?
I'm going to try to defuse the bomb.
I'm not having my best man get blown to...
Sir, I wouldn't be your best man if I didn't at least try.
That's well put, sir. You can't argue with that.
I hope we're far enough away from that thing.
I've been blown up before, you know.
[Engine rumbling]
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Hey! - Sir!
What's going on?
Sir, could you stop the engine?
I will not. I need to pass.
Sir, get out of the automobile.
I will not.
Now, sir, remember, the sounds you make will increase in volume
the closer you get to the device itself.
Thank you, George.
What is he doing?
Getting your husband down.
Why didn't he think of that in the first place?
He said if the area remains quiet...
The mayor is letting the factories start up, isn't he?
That bastard!
My Richard as much as put him in office!
BRACKEN REID: Ma'am, quiet down.
It's about time. Hurry!
Sir, turn this around and go the other direction.
- Step aside. - Get out of the automobile.
Step aside!
- Sir... - Sir...
- I said move. - Sir, don't you...
- Move! - Sir. Sir...
- Stop! - No.
You can't go that way!
Stop! Stop now!
Hurry! Get this damn thing off me!
- JACKSON: Get back here! - HIGGINS: Stop the car!
- Sir! - JACKSON: Stop!
- Get back! - HIGGINS: Stop the car!
- Sir! - JACKSON: Stop!
HIGGINS: Stop right now!
[Car backfiring]
[Gasps]
- Sir! - MAN: Jump!
[Electricity crackles]
[People screaming]
[Groans]
[Crowd murmuring]
WOMAN: You all right?
MURDOCH: Mrs. Welsh...
I am so sorry.
That car backfire could not have been predicted...
Don't. [Sniffles] It hardly would have mattered.
[Factory whistle blows, machines whirring]
Don't you hear that?
[Hissing, whirring]
My husband's friends... would have killed him, anyway.
Couldn't even wait a day.
My husband's blood.
[Clanging]
[Indistinct talking]
- [Jackhammering] - We know that sound dissipates
the further it travels from its source.
So the man bothered by the factory must have lived nearby.
Exactly. Only residents of Cabbagetown
would have been directly affected by the noise.
As much as we are being tortured by that damn thing outside.
DR. OGDEN: Gentlemen.
Julia.
I found very few cases of people who have acted violently
when overly stimulated by sound.
- [Jackhammering stops] - [Sighs]
And those that were, they didn't try to stop the source.
They simply retreated.
- Became hermits. - DR. OGDEN: Exactly.
So you found nothing that could assist us?
I'm afraid not, William. This is clearly an irrational act.
But the Asylum has no record of anyone with any such malady.
Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.
We'll be there right away, sir.
The deputy mayor wants to speak to us.
- I'll get my coat. - [Jackhammering resumes]
BRACKEN REID: What a bloody racket.
Almost wish the poor sod was still on top of the pole.
[Both chuckle]
Yes, Doctor?
[Sighs]
I was wondering, has William been acting oddly lately?
Oddly?
I'm just wondering if he'd said anything to you?
[Jackhammering stops]
About?
[Exhales sharply]
Oh, nothing, Inspector. I'm sorry to have bothered you.
Murdoch keeps his own counsel, Doctor. You should know that.
Yes. I know all too well.
Jackson, stop shaking the box. It's a bomb.
JACKSON: It already blowed up, Henry.
"Blew up," Jackson.
Why does Detective Murdoch want this rubbish, anyways?
Well, he's going to reconstruct the device,
hoping it will lend some clues as to its maker.
It's just junk, though.
Higgins, you of all people should know
Detective Murdoch can see things where no mere mortal can.
I saw Dr. Grace today, George.
Did you, now?
HIGGINS: She was by the station, waiting for you to come in.
I think it's over between she and I, Henry.
JACKSON: You sure about that, George?
She's a fine woman... educated, too.
Yes, I know that, Jackson.
I'm also know that, in due time,
she'll... find some other chap who's more on her...
Don't sell yourself short, George.
I'm not. I... I know who I am, and I'm content with that.
- So... you're through, then? - Yes, we're through, Henry.
Can we just focus on the job at hand?
- Oh, Lord. - What?
Ohh.
And he said nothing about it?
DR. OGDEN: Not a thing. I thought that when he said
that he had something important to ask me
that he meant a proposal.
Instead, it was assistance with a case.
He might have cold feet.
I could see that, considering the last time he tried.
You had reason.
I know. But there's no reason not to now.
William Murdoch and George Crabtree
will be the death of us.
[Sighs] Have you talked to him?
Yes. But every time I do, I put my foot in it.
[Telephone ringing]
I should be going.
Don't give up, Emily.
George Crabtree is as fine a man as ever walked the earth.
[Ringing continues]
Hello?
LIONEL: Hello, Julia.
Father?
[Engine humming]
[Indistinct conversations]
[Horses neigh]
MAN: Whoa!
[Horn honking]
We're not moving.
The streets are getting busier and busier, sir.
Because they're always bloody tearing them up.
I told you. We should have taken a bicycle, sir.
Only a fool would ride a bicycle
on a street full of wagons, streetcars, and damn motorcars.
[Horse neighs, horn honks]
We'll walk.
Thank you.
[Horn honks]
DEPUTY MAYOR: I've instructed all businesses
to cease operations.
And I've told all churches to cease ringing their bells.
MURDOCH: And they've agreed to comply?
For now. But, Inspector, we can't have the mayor be
this fiend's next victim.
We'll do what we can.
That wasn't quite enough for poor Mr. Welsh, was it?
[Indistinct conversations]
Clever.
Mr. Mayor.
It's all right. We can speak.
Could you do something?
Yes, sir. Did you get a look at who did this to you?
He wore a mask. He was a man of unremarkable stature.
That's all.
Please, get me out of this.
BRACKEN REID: We will, Mr. Mayor.
Where are you going?
To solve this, sir.
[Baby crying]
MURDOCH: It's much quieter here than Cabbagetown,
but the risk is still considerable.
Another car backfiring, a baby crying...
And we'll be looking at another damned election.
You're gonna be all right, Mr. Mayor.
Just get this damn hat off me.
Jackson? Have a look at this.
- What am I looking at? - Well, it's a threat.
Directed to Mr. Welsh. From a Bradley Fowler.
- Want to bring him in? - I do.
Where's Higgins?
He stepped out to grab a bite of pizza pie.
Said he was famished.
- Hollow leg on that one. - [Chuckles] Matches the head.
[Laughs]
Dr. Grace.
Constable Higgins. What can I do for you?
Well, I was... wondering how you were faring.
Well enough, thank you.
[Chuckles] I see.
Well, what is it, Constable? I'm... quite busy.
Oh. Yes. Uh...
Well, I was wondering if you would care to join me
at the Agricultural Fair this Saturday?
You and I?
Well, I was under the impression
that George had recently broken things off with you.
So I thought perhaps...
Are you being deliberately cruel?
No. I...
Did George put you up to this?
No.
My invitation was sincere.
I'm... sorry to have troubled you.
[Footsteps depart]
Henry, I'm sorry.
[Door closes]
[Sighs]
And you think you can reconstruct this?
Well, sir, I have to try.
To what end?
Well, perhaps I can figure out how to disarm the new bomb
or where the parts came from.
It might yield a clue as to the identity of...
Sirs?
- What is it, Crabtree? - Sorry for the interruption.
Jackson and I just brought in a Bradley Fowler.
He was a competitor of Mr. Welsh's.
I found a rather threatening note in Mr. Welsh's effects.
- A note? Is that it? - No, sir.
I took the liberty of going through Fowler's employee list.
At one point,
he had a Travis McGuire working for him.
Wasn't he the bloke who tried to blow up Welsh's building?
The very one, sir. I'll have Jackson bring him in next.
I'll have a go at this Fowler.
Uh... a light one, sir.
He doesn't appear to be a common street thug.
Murdoch, you stick to what you do best. As will I.
Just tell me the truth.
I didn't do anything to Mr. Welsh.
BRACKEN REID: You threatened him.
He upped an offer
on a building I was in the midst of purchasing.
I was angry. And that was years ago... water under the bridge.
And you had to move your factory quite a distance away?
I did. And everything costs more because of it.
You're in the same business, aren't you?
Machine parts, yes. Mostly marine parts and...
And Welsh pays his workers double?
You lost three of your most skilled mechanics to him.
Yeah. He's paying them like they're damned lawyers.
And now he isn't. And you'll have them back.
- [Knock on door] - Bring him in.
[Door opens]
Nice to see you again.
Do you know this man?
I've never seen him before in my life.
Don't bloody lie to me!
I'll ask you again. Do you know him?
He worked for me once.
BRACKEN REID: Before or after he tried to blow up
- Welsh's building? - I had nothing to do with that.
Is he lying?
You better think on your answer, sunshine...
because I'm seriously looking at you two
for the murder of Mr. Richard Welsh.
Murder? That's ridiculous.
Look at me!
Don't listen to him. Tell me the truth.
Yeah, he paid me to blow up the building.
He's lying.
But I had nothing to do with the present bomb. I swear.
I wouldn't pay that fool $50 to do anything.
On my mother's grave, he paid me exactly $50
to try to blow up Mr. Welsh's factory.
For "the greater good," is it?
Unless you're prepared to furnish some form of proof
of my involvement in Mr. Welsh's death, I'm leaving.
You lay a hand on me, I'll have you before a court of law.
[Door opens]
Sir!
Henry, please...
What is it?
You're needed, sir.
And please, no matter what, no applause.
Or loud noises.
Mr. Mayor.
My fellow ratepayers,
I have always respected you, your wishes, and your desires.
With that in mind, I have made a... most difficult decision.
At 6:00 this evening,
the city hall clock tower will ring true and strong.
And not just any clock
but every factory and church in the city
will serenade you with the sound of progress and industry.
[Crowd murmuring]
Please, let's not rush the inevitable, shall we?
You have to stop him.
The mayor is a stubborn man.
He will die.
And they will build a statue to him.
I think it's all he really wants.
...cannot stay the wheels of progress
or starve the engine of prosperity.
And so, my fellow ratepayers,
at 6:00 this evening, I will be no more.
But you and this great city will live on.
My death will convince this fiend
that he cannot push back the power of the 20th century
or stymie the men who will lead humanity into a brave new world.
Now I ask you to please disperse.
Let me spend my few remaining hours... with my family.
[Crowd murmuring]
Mr. Mayor, this isn't necessary.
It is, Detective. You as much as said so yourself.
With every steam whistle too loud,
every child with colic, this device explodes.
- But, sir... - I've decided, Detective.
I'm going to sacrifice my life so this city can prosper.
Now, go.
[Breathes deeply]
[Indistinct conversations]
Jackson, ensure that this crowd stays a safe distance back.
We know from before the approximate blast radius.
JACKSON: And how much is that, sir?
Well, I would prefer they weren't here at all,
but 20 feet should do it.
Shall we get them to disperse?
Just keep them back.
Oh, and, uh...
...move them when necessary.
JACKSON: Yes, sir.
George.
I'm heading back to the Station House.
- You're in charge here. - Sir.
You're certain you can't make the mayor reconsider?
His mind's made up.
The mayor may not be the sharpest tack in the drawer,
but when his mind is made up...
And I suppose you'll assume the mantle of leadership?
But not the way I wanted.
MURDOCH: What about Mr. Fowler?
Nothing strong enough to hold him.
So you don't think that...
Doesn't look like he had anything to do with it.
Henry. What are you doing?
- Get away from there. - But, sir...
Go down to city hall and help Constable Crabtree.
- Sir, wait. - What is it?
I know where these parts are from.
- Oh. - It's a piano, sir.
This... This here is piano wire,
and this is, well, what's left of a damper.
What about these?
Those are piano tuning screws.
Excellent work, Henry.
My family owned a piano shop, sir.
I was never really any good at playing the damned thing,
I suppose, but I'm pretty well acquainted
with the various parts and inner workings...
Henry, what time is it?
It's 4:00, sir.
Good work.
Perhaps, sir, I'm not just a mere mortal, as well.
Right.
Excuse me. Police.
Hello?
Toronto Constabulary.
Hello?!
What do you want?
I said, what do you want? We're closed.
I'm looking for a Mr. Pike.
Are you his wife? You own this place?
My husband and I.
I'd very much like to speak with him.
[Chuckles] You and me both.
MURDOCH: You don't know where he is?
I threw him out.
Weeks ago now.
I need to find him.
Well, if you do, tell him to go to hell.
Mrs. Pike, why did you throw your husband out?
He wasn't any good.
He was mad.
Mad as a damn hatter.
He'd rant and rail.
Damn the noises around him to high heavens.
Ma'am, it's very important that I find him.
Please. A man's life is at stake.
A man?
What man?
I thought he was blown up.
Hell of a commotion.
Yes, yes.
Well, a different man. The mayor.
I knew it.
Oh, Jesus.
He was smarter than I thought.
That's what he was tinkering on? He built the bomb, didn't he?
You wouldn't think he'd had it in him.
Ma'am, please. I need to find your husband.
His name is Wallace, and he used to be a good man
before the noise of the city made him mad.
[Chuckles] So he built a bomb.
Mad as a hatter.
Enough, ma'am. Please, I need to find your husband.
- Get your hands off me. - Please.
Let me go.
Avery's Bridge.
Try that.
Sometimes I'd find him hiding under there like a hermit.
[Bottle thuds]
Ladies, please.
Sir, I hope you're not betting.
- [Indistinct conversations] - Excuse me. Uh...
Fine.
CRABTREE: [Clears throat]
Could be my imagination, but are there more people here?
Must have missed the first explosion.
Hey, George, if you want my opinion regarding Dr. Grace,
she seems like a fine woman...
She's a fine woman, Jackson, but I was batting out of my league.
The relationship was always destined to end poorly.
George, you don't really believe that, do you...
That's enough, now. My affairs, or lack thereof, with Dr. Grace
is my own business.
It's done. I'm done talking about it.
Sorry, George.
[Sighs]
Wallace Pike?
Toronto Constabulary.
It's quiet here, isn't it?
Like the way the world should be.
Yes, it is.
Isn't this... what the world should be?
Mr. Pike, I need your help.
I-I don't want an innocent man to die.
Then turn off the factories, turn off the cars...
MURDOCH: I can't.
And at 6:00 today, the world as it is will start up again.
But the mayor...
MURDOCH: You can't stop a city.
I'm sorry, but you just can't... You can't win.
But you can save an innocent man's life.
WALLACE: I just want everything to go back to the way it was.
MURDOCH: Those days are gone.
Don't let another innocent man die.
Please.
I love you.
It's time to go. Ma'am.
[Indistinct conversations]
People, I advise you to stand back.
We need you to stand back now.
MURDOCH: Look out. Police coming through.
You have two minutes, Mr. Pike.
It won't take long.
Thank you.
Be quiet.
[Clicks]
It's done.
Mr. Mayor.
[Crowd murmuring]
Thank you, Mr. Pike.
[Bell tolling]
Mr. Pike!
[Gun cocks]
I want silence.
- No! - [Gunshot]
[All scream]
[Groans]
Julia.
What brings you here?
I'm off to visit my father. He called me out of the blue.
Oh. How long has it been?
Years. But he wants to see me.
I don't suppose that you could accompany me?
It would be lovely for you two to meet,
and perhaps there's something that you would like to ask him.
Julia, I couldn't possibly.
I have a reception at the mayor's office,
and my attendance is mandated.
Safe journey.
Constable Crabtree.
Ah. Dr. Ogden.
[Sighs] I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries,
but I spoke with Dr. Grace.
I know that she's very sorry.
I appreciate that. I just... I-I really don't want to discuss it.
She's a good woman, George,
and one certainly deserving of a second chance.
Well, I think in breaking things off with her
I've given her just that.
But I really do appreciate that, Doctor. Thank you.
[Indistinct conversations]
[Keys jingle]
[Sighs deeply]
Ripped By mstoll