(1920s music)
WOMAN: Arthur!
Arthur! Come inside at once!
Can't you hear me calling?
What are you eating?
Shh, shh, shh.
You'll wake her.
Dear God!
I've found another costume,
miss,
but they'll all need a good
airing before we pack them.
Don't worry, we have a couple
of days left before the ball.
So that's a Roman warrior,
a clown,
a Little Red Riding Hood,
the wolf, an angel,
and I'll pack Cleopatra
separately
- so the frock won't crush.
- Wonderful.
There's nothing I like better
than a fancy dress ball,
although it does seem an odd
choice for an engagement party.
I am surprised
your Aunt Prudence
doesn't think it unseemly, miss.
I'm sure she does.
But my darling cousin Guy
has always found a way
to wrap the old dear
around his little pinkie.
Mr Butler,
any chance of a broken fan belt
or a flat tire today?
No chance at all, miss.
Your motor car
is running like a dream.
- (phone rings)
- I'll get it.
Hello, Miss Fisher speaking.
Aunt Prudence!
Luncheon's off?
What a shame.
Oh no!
Yes, of course.
Did you call the police?
Leave it to me.
Connect me to City South
Police Station, please.
Detective Inspector
Jack Robinson. It's urgent.
Put another pin in your hat,
Dot.
You're in for a very fast ride.
Phryne,
this is a complete disaster!
The poor, unfortunate girl.
Two days
before the engagement party.
Don't worry, Mother.
There can be no question
of the party going ahead.
Hello, Guy.
Cousin Phryne.
Excuse me, I'm a little damp.
Was supposed to be a happy
occasion when we met again.
May I present my companion,
Miss Dorothy Williams.
Mr Guy Stanley.
Miss Williams. Pleasure.
So who is she?
Marigold Brown.
She's the stablehand's daughter.
I engaged her as chambermaid.
I think we should wait
for the police to arrive.
Phryne! Don't touch her.
Pretty girl.
Inspector's coming, miss.
You made it here
in alarmingly good time.
I know a shortcut.
Where was she found?
Floating in the middle
of the swimming pool.
I walked this way
about nine o'clock for the roses
but I saw nothing suspicious
then.
Who pulled her out of the water?
- My son, Guy.
- It was after ten o'clock.
I had a mad hope
she might still be alive.
Looks like she hit her head.
Perhaps on the edge of the pool.
Such a tragic mishap.
Come, Mother.
Well, come on.
What's your theory?
Take a look around her collar.
This girl didn't drown.
She was strangled.
Murdered?!
The poor, poor girl.
JACK: When was she last seen?
Did anyone spot her
this morning?
I'll have to ask my housekeeper,
Mrs Truebody.
Phryne, would you ring the bell,
please?
I told you to stay in your room.
I want to play with Marigold.
Where is she?
She's sleeping, my darling boy.
Ah, look who's just arrived.
Cousin Phryne!
And look what I have for you.
Gobstoppers.
They're enormous!
You can't have them
unless you go back to your room.
As you see, Detective Inspector,
my son is...
Well, his faculties are limited.
We'll need to speak to
every member of the household
all the same, including Arthur.
Of course.
The girl's father.
Where can we find him?
Herbert Brown?
He lodges
behind the stable house.
Oh, where in heaven's name
is Mrs Truebody?
MAN: She was only 16.
Still a little girl.
I've done my best
since we lost her mother.
Thank God
she's not here for this.
When was the last time
you saw your daughter?
That would have been last night.
About bedtime.
Marigold likes to check on me
of an evening.
But you didn't see her
this morning?
She stays up at the servant
quarters in the main house
since they put her on as a maid.
She was coming up in the world.
I'm afraid I have to ask
where you were this morning.
Just for the record,
between nine and ten o'clock.
Where I always am,
mucking out the stables.
Can anyone confirm this for us?
Anyone here?
Yes. Mr Guy.
He came over to look
at the horses. That's right.
He asked me to saddle up
a couple of mounts for him.
Him and his lady friend.
I had breakfast
with my ravishing bride-to-be,
Isabella, in my room.
What time was that?
Early, must have been nine.
Practically the crack of dawn.
JACK:
What did you do after that?
The usual. Just came downstairs,
nabbed the newspaper,
wafted about the garden.
Anywhere near the stables?
Yes, actually.
Now you mention it,
I went to see my old horses.
What time would that have been?
I've never been a
watch-the-clock type of fellow.
JACK: Was anyone else there?
Just Herbert.
Mother inherited him
when the neighbors sold off
their nags for sports cars.
I mean...
I mean, he does know
his horseflesh, though.
You don't think he had anything
to do with his daughter's death?
We're just eliminating him
from our enquiries
as we'll be doing with the rest
of the household.
Tell me, when might
we speak with your fiancée?
Isabella. Phryne Fisher.
Ah! The cousin.
We've met, haven't we?
That dazzling party
in Charing Cross.
Guy ended up on the dining table
reciting an indecent version
of The Boy Stood
On The Burning Deck.
Ah, yes!
Darling, Phryne's just reminding
me of the night we fell in love.
(laughs)
At least she knows what
a terrible rake she's marrying.
I think we're perfectly suited.
(speaks in French)
When you're ready, Inspector
Robinson's waiting for you
- in the front parlor.
- Oh!
Should I dress, or not?
How good-looking is he?
Phryne, I'm sorry
I can't offer you tea.
I've just been told
my housekeeper left at dawn.
The police won't be happy
about that.
That's the second one
since we arrived.
What do you do to your staff,
Mrs Stanley?
Mrs Truebody just upped
and left without any reason?
Apart from your aunt telling her
the croquembouche tower
looked like
someone stuck a pin in it.
This is turning out to be
such a beastly day.
You do realize we'll have
to cancel the party, Isabella.
Absolutely.
It's so adorably Australian.
Where else but in the Antipodes
would an entire household
go into mourning
over a stablehand's daughter,
sweet as the girl was.
PHRYNE:
That shouldn't bother you.
Everybody who's worth knowing
lives in London, don't they?
True.
It was a silly idea of Guy's
foisting the engagement
on his poor mother.
It was not silly at all!
If the wedding
is to be held overseas,
it's perfectly reasonable
I should host the engagement.
Well, it's a moot point now.
Excuse me,
I have a date with a policeman.
It's probably all for the best,
Mother.
I think you should go ahead
as planned, Aunt Prudence.
I'll loan you my staff.
Would you really?
Although I'm not entirely sure
it's appropriate.
There's nothing more
you can do for Marigold
and some of your guests
have sailed from England.
What about the catering?
Would that be...
Up to scratch?
Mr Butler
is cordon bleu trained.
Oh!
We'll need waiters and footmen.
I know a couple of gentlemen
who might fit the bill
in an Antipodean kind of way.
- If that would help?
- You know, I believe it would.
Thank you.
Ah!
Hello there.
Which one of you
wants to inspect me?
No drag marks.
Not so much as a snapped twig.
Then I'd say somebody
carried her, already strangled,
and just dropped her
in the pool.
What about Herbert?
His alibi matched up
with your cousin's story.
He was saddling the horses
for a bit of a gallop
around the estate.
Isn't that what the upper class
do of a morning?
Possibly but not Guy.
He was kicked in the teeth
by a pony at the age of eight
and he's refused to mount
anything equine ever since.
Why would Herbert lie
about saddling the horses?
Why would Guy go near
the stables in the first place?
What about Isabella?
Anything worth noting?
Not apart from her outfit.
We're just about done with the
household, aren't we, Collins?
- Apart from the housekeeper?
- Yes, sir.
Mrs Truebody lived in
so there's no home address.
But I have the name of the
agency she was registered with.
Good. Let's get back to the
station. We can track it down.
What about the discrepancy
between Guy and Herbert's
evidence?
We're pursuing it.
I'd say
a poorly thought-out collusion.
Possibly. But right now, I'm
late for another appointment.
Who's your appointment with?
Barrister. Must be some kind
of court appearance.
JACK: Get moving, Collins!
I hope no ants
have followed you in.
I'm not sure what it means
but I found it under the hedge
after you rushed off
for more urgent matters.
How did you go
with your barrister?
- What?
- Hugh mentioned it in passing.
Tricky case coming up?
Erm, my most challenging yet
but not one that concerns you.
"Minor abrasion to forehead,
severe bruising to neck
and windpipe,
inflicted prior to immersion."
"Most likely cause of death
was asphyxiation
due to strangulation."
- No surprises there.
- Read on.
"Welt marks to the upper back"?
Someone was belting her.
"No evidence
of forced sexual penetration."
"However,
deceased was not a virgin."
And the toxicology report
says she consumed
copious amounts of alcohol
the night before she died.
She didn't lead a sheltered
life, then.
And there could be a boyfriend
we should be suspecting
if we dig a little deeper.
Jane, how nice to see you!
And Mr Butler.
At your service, Mrs Stanley.
Where are the others?
Cec and Bert
were right behind us.
Not those two
ex-wharfie rabble-rousers.
You wanted staff, Aunt Prudence.
You still have a full day
to get them into line.
Ah! Mr Albert Johnson
and Mr Cecil Yates.
I'm sure you've met my aunt,
Mrs Prudence Stanley.
G'day.
PHRYNE: This'll shape up
very nicely by tomorrow.
(clattering)
PRUDENCE: Do be careful!
Each bottle of that champagne
is worth more
than your weekly wage!
Must be bloody liquid gold.
French? How heavenly.
PRUDENCE: Guy seems
to have made a mistake.
I ordered two dozen,
not 20 dozen.
I gather you are paying for it.
Where is Guy, anyway?
Finishing the clues
for the treasure hunt.
Mrs Stanley,
your honest opinion?
Oh, my stars.
Do you think the wig
is too much?
I know you bright young things
like to whoop it up a bit
but please remember
some of our guests
are highly influential people.
PHRYNE: Isabella, my ward, Jane.
How do you do? Is that
your costume for the party?
Yes, I'm Lady Godiva.
Ugh!
I thought you were Eve.
Godiva didn't have a fig leaf.
Oh!
Clever girl.
Please! Not here!
Jane, why don't you go
into the kitchen
and ask Mr Butler for some tea?
They're so sweet at that age.
Poor little Marigold
and that villain of a father.
I hope they hang him.
- Isabella!
- Who else would have done it?
- He was an old soak.
- Poor Mr Brown.
Is he a drinker?
I don't know
what she's talking about.
Lord Fraser couldn't recommend
him highly enough.
Ridiculous!
(horse neighs)
Mr Brown?
I stopped in to have a word
with your aunt's neighbor
on the way here.
According to Lord Fraser,
Herbert Brown
was quick to use a whip
and not just on his horses.
And it seems he liked
more than a drop
of cheap, nasty, hard liquor.
- Doesn't look too cheap to me.
- Can I help you?
How did you come by this,
Mr Brown?
The usual way. At the pub.
You wouldn't find this
at your local watering hole.
It's one of the most expensive
scotch whiskeys in the world.
I didn't know that.
It was a present.
Mr Guy gave it to me.
PHRYNE: Why?
He must appreciate my hard work.
Did Marigold mention anyone
mistreating her?
Punishing her for anything?
Not that I recall. Why?
There were welt marks
on your daughter's body.
Perhaps you mistook her
for a horse.
I may have taken the belt to her
once or twice for her own good.
The lads were like bees
around a honey pot.
I didn't want her
to get knocked up.
What was I supposed to do?
Now if you're done with me,
I've got things I should do.
JACK: Of course.
He doesn't impress me
with his child-rearing skills.
I'm not convinced
he's a killer either.
What if it's not Guy
covering up for Herbert Brown
but the other way round?
That would explain
the bottle of scotch.
Ah, there you are, sir.
I contacted the agency
but Mrs Truebody
hasn't been in contact
since they placed her
with Miss Fisher's aunt.
So she left in a hurry
with no forwarding address
and no position to move on to.
Do you think she's our killer,
sir?
Or she knows who is. Either way,
we seem to have reached
a dead end.
I know you interviewed
all the staff.
But never underestimate
the power of downstairs gossip.
PHRYNE: Mrs Truebody
can't have disappeared.
She was headed for a
holiday cottage at Inverloch.
Goes there once a year to take
the sea air, apparently.
What was that name again?
Sea Wind. Sea View or something.
Sea Breeze.
Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages.
Any problems, Mr Butler?
No, Mrs Stanley.
Everything's going very well.
Now, find a safe place
to store that, good chap.
Is that
your famous English fudge?
PRUDENCE: Ooh!
You wouldn't like it,
Mother. It's made with figs.
Ugh!
May I ask, Miss Fisher,
what is so special
about this fudge?
Apart from the country
of origin, of course.
Believe me, Mr Butler,
it's very special indeed.
Sea Breeze Holiday Cottages,
Inverloch.
C...R...
Crumbs. Breadcrumbs!
Breadcrumbs!
I'm reading Hansel And Gretel.
JANE:
I just taught him a few words.
It's a present. A present!
When do I not
bring you a present?
Hope you haven't
chosen your costume yet.
Since Hansel And Gretel
is your favorite fairytale.
I'm going to be Hansel.
And guess
who's going to be Gretel?
- Who?
- Guess.
Marigold! She...
She loves fairytales.
Darling,
Marigold isn't here anymore.
Where is she?
She had to go away.
Because of me?
No, of course not.
Yes, it is. Because I didn't
give her my toffee apple.
And... And Mother's cross too
because I'm not supposed
to have sweeties.
Tell me, did you see Marigold?
Phryne! That's enough.
Why did you tell Jack Robinson
it was you who found Marigold?
I did find her.
Arthur had no idea she was dead.
Still doesn't, I hope.
Well, somebody should tell him.
He has a right to know.
How long is it now since little
Janey disappeared, Phryne?
Arthur was still a boy
when your sister went missing.
He still has bad dreams,
still awakes in the night,
calling for her.
This time
there's no reason to hope.
The kindest thing you can do
for Arthur is tell him that.
(clattering)
- Arthur!
- Janey!
Arthur, stop it at once!
- Janey!
- For pity's sake!
Janey, come back!
I was just teaching him my name,
that's all!
(cries) I just...
want Janey to come back.
JANE: Does he mean Marigold?
Did the woodcutter
hurt Marigold?
No. You've got it wrong.
There was no woodcutter.
He was in the garden
and he gave her a toffee apple.
I saw him!
Here?
And where were you?
Hiding?
The woodcutter
gave you an apple?
To go away.
But I didn't go away.
And then...
You saw the woodcutter
with Marigold.
She wasn't asleep, was she?
The woodcutter killed her
with his axe, didn't he?
Yes, dear.
I wish I had an axe.
I'd go and I'd find him
and I'd chop him up.
No, don't talk like that.
Arthur, was it someone we know?
Marigold's father?
Someone else from the house?
What did he look like?
Tall? Short?
What color hair?
No, no, it was the woodcutter.
I saw him. The same one.
The one who took Janey.
That's not possible.
There was a toffee apple left
behind when Janey disappeared.
I've tried to dismiss it
as coincidence.
JACK: That's all it is.
Murdoch Foyle died in prison.
PHRYNE:
But what if he's duped us all?
With trickery or he paid people
to help feign his death so that
we all think he's gone
but he's just biding his time,
waiting to strike.
- Strike who?
- Me.
So why would he kill Marigold?
It's a game of cat and mouse.
He knew Prudence Stanley
was my aunt.
It's been all over the society
pages with Guy's engagement.
Foyle's dead, Phryne.
But Arthur said it was
the same man who took Janey.
He identified him
in a police line-up!
With all due respect,
your cousin can't pick
the difference between
fairytales and reality.
Why connect it with Foyle?
Marigold's death reminded him
of Janey's
and whoever he saw he decided
it was the same bogeyman.
The woodcutter.
If it wasn't Murdoch Foyle,
who was it?
The housekeeper saw Marigold
with someone before she left.
Who?
She's on her way
to Melbourne by train,
compliments of the Victorian
Police Force
to tell us in person.
Your invitation.
To Guy and Isabella's party.
As my partner.
Oh, Miss Fisher,
I really don't think...
You have a murder case
to solve
and what better way
to gather information
than to mingle with the crowd?
Besides, I need you to remind me
not to be afraid of shadows.
Do you really think
Mr Foyle is still alive, miss?
Perhaps he's just haunting me,
Dot.
Jack's right.
It's not logical.
Let's hope a hot bath
will bring me to my senses.
I want you to check again.
On Murdoch Foyle.
Not you too, Dotty.
He tried to escape from prison,
the plan went wrong
and he was cremated instead.
So there's no way of digging him
up. Isn't that suspicious?
It's what his mother wanted.
It was at her request.
Then get me her name.
You sound just like Miss Fisher.
Why can't you trust the records?
Because records
can be falsified.
In all the time I've
been Miss Phryne's companion,
her instincts
have never been wrong.
Yes, well,
there's always a first.
So does that mean
you're going to help me or not?
I'll see what I can do.
♪ What da do, what da do ♪
♪ What da do, da da do ♪
♪ Da da do ♪
♪ It makes no difference
if it's sweet or hot ♪
♪ Just keep that rhythm
giving everything you've got ♪
♪ Oh, it don't mean a thing ♪
♪ If it ain't got that swing ♪
No, I'm not wearing that.
- You need to look the part.
- And what part's that?
Part penguin,
part panda bloody bear?
Ah! There you are, Phryne.
Did you remember
to collect the petit fours?
I did, if Cec and Bert would
unload them from the car.
Ah! Don't waste a trip.
You can take Marigold's things
back to her father.
What things?
Don't worry about it. The police
have finished with them.
Follow me, young men.
Why did we agree to this job?
It's only for the early part
of the evening.
And I need you to keep
an eye on Jane.
Leave the bag, Cec.
I'll deliver it myself.
Miss Fisher! Excuse me, miss.
You'd better come quick.
- Mr Butler!
- (man laughs)
Mr Butler!
How much fudge did you eat?
One, two...
Buckle my shoe.
PHRYNE: Two pieces?
Three, four!
Four pieces?!
And he's still standing.
What's wrong with the fudge?
It's laced with hash.
Do you mean hashish?
PHRYNE:
Highest quality, if I know Guy.
Thank you.
Mrs Truebody's
train arrives at four, sir.
Well, if I'm not back by then,
you'll have to interview her
yourself.
I thought
she had important evidence.
I hope she does, Collins,
but I'm not sure
when I'll be released from court
and I have faith
in your abilities.
Thank you, sir.
Er, which courthouse is it?
Just in case I need to find you.
The federal magistrate's.
That's the divorce court,
isn't it, sir?
I believe so.
Well, good luck, sir.
Oh, I do feel queer.
Lie him down somewhere, Bert.
Sleep's the best thing.
Good idea. Going to get a lot
worse before it gets better.
What's wrong with Mr Butler?
He took a liking to Guy's fudge.
Don't press me, Dot dear.
You would be very shocked.
Now tell me,
what do you make of these?
Why, they're lovely, miss.
Such beautiful silk tatting.
Are they French?
I suspect so.
They're not mine.
The stitching
is practically invisible.
They must have cost a penny.
Too many pennies
for Marigold Brown.
They must have been a present.
Possibly
from a gentleman friend.
That's a very inappropriate
sort of present.
A rich gentleman friend given
to inappropriate behavior.
Who springs immediately to mind?
Mr Guy.
PHRYNE:
So where's the inspector?
Surely he gave you some
indication of when he'd return?
- He didn't seem to know.
- Never mind.
I'm heading past the courthouse
on my way back
to Aunt Prudence's.
- I can catch him there.
- No, no, miss.
I don't think
he would like that very much.
Why not?
He... I think
it might be a personal matter.
Personal?
He hasn't robbed a bank, has he?
He's...
Mrs Truebody
is waiting for her tea.
The housekeeper?
Has she been helpful?
She says she has...
She says she has information
but she says it's delicate
and she's demanding to speak
to a lady police officer.
There are only four of them
in the state!
I tried to explain.
Perhaps a lady investigator
would do?
I've done my best for that
household, Miss Fisher.
I know Mrs Stanley
can be a demanding employer
but I have exacting standards
myself.
- So that's not why you left?
- No.
There was an unfortunate...
incident the night before.
I went upstairs to turn
down the bed in Mr Guy's room.
I knocked but nobody answered.
So you went in?
Oh, it's a sight
I won't forget in a hurry.
Like Sodom and Gomorrah.
Guy and his fiancée?
I'd say so.
But to tell the truth,
I couldn't see their faces,
the two young ladies.
Only Mr Guy's.
So I couldn't stay
under the same roof after that
and I didn't know
how to tell poor Mrs Stanley.
Have a look at these, Bluebeard.
Look familiar?
Which one of you gave Marigold
French underwear?
Stupid woman
should have knocked.
She was barely 16!
Oh, don't go all moralistic
on us, Phryne.
You like your meat tender too.
We had perfectly lovely times,
the three of us.
- Guy had to spoil it all.
- It wasn't my fault.
The little minx followed me
to the cellar
when I went to get supplies.
She pleaded with Guy to take her
back to London with us.
Threatened to claim
we'd forced her.
Well, there's your motive.
GUY: Her father's
the one with the motive.
He found us in the cellar.
It was jolly embarrassing.
It was Marigold's blood
he was baying for, though.
He dragged her off,
called her a slut and a whore,
making a dickens of a row.
I had to appropriate
a bottle of something expensive
and go after them
to calm things down.
So for the sake of a drink,
Herbert was prepared to overlook
his daughter's cavorting?
No, he must have killed her.
Why else would he be
blackmailing me
into giving him an alibi?
So if you weren't with Herbert,
what's your alibi?
I was with Isabella
in the library until after ten.
I had an appointment
with the florist.
She kept banging on about
orchids and stephanotis
until Guy's mother started
screaming about Marigold.
(music and chat)
Cleopatra.
Oh, what an asp!
Now, Phrynekins,
about this Marigold business.
Don't make a fracas tonight.
Think what it will do to Mother.
Don't worry, Guy.
Aunt Prudence is in for
a difficult enough evening
as it is.
I won't make it worse.
I do love you.
So you should.
- You look perfect.
- Thank you. So do you.
Now, only lemonade tonight
and no fudge.
Oh, someone left a note for you.
It's still upstairs
on the dressing table.
I'll get it.
I'm going to check on Arthur.
(knocking)
Arthur?
Hello, Arthur.
Why aren't you at the party?
Mother says Guy doesn't want me.
I can deal with Guy.
I'll be good.
I'll read my book.
You'll miss out on all the fun.
There's going to be
a treasure hunt.
I brought you some treats.
Not hungry.
You might change your mind.
Is Mr Butler
going to be alright?
He'll be fine. It was a reaction
to some fudge.
He must be allergic to figs.
I found out more
about Murdoch Foyle's cremation.
It was at the request of his
mother, Mrs Gertrude Clark.
Her name's not Foyle?
She was a foster mother
so I checked with Welfare
and they remembered her
because she was charged
with maltreating six orphans
in her care.
Starvation and brutality.
She spent two and a half years
in prison.
I've been through her file.
Well, she doesn't sound like the
kind of person I'd want to meet.
But did you find an address?
I did but it's no help.
Mrs Clark's been listed
as a missing person
for the past fortnight.
Jack, you made it.
- Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.
- Very good.
I assume Hugh told you about our
interview with Mrs Truebody?
- He did.
- Good.
I can fill you in on the rest.
But first, you need a costume.
How can you protest
when you have no idea what it is
I have in mind?
Because nine times out of ten,
what you have in mind
gives me grief.
There's nothing wrong
with the way I'm dressed.
I'm perfectly disguised
as a police detective.
You won't detect much in a crowd
this fast
in a blue wool suit and tie.
I kept this aside for you.
A passable Mark Antony
if we pilfer that sword
on display in the billiard room.
So I'm to be the triple pillar
of the world
transformed
into a strumpet's fool?
You've been at least a single
pillar for far too long.
No one will know who you are.
Except you.
Come on, Jack.
Just one gaudy night.
If you really want
a Roman soldier
then I'll take it from here.
What is it?
This was left for me.
It was Janey's.
She was wearing ribbons in her
hair the day she disappeared.
I have the other one.
- How?
- I don't understand.
It must be him.
Who else was there that day
that could have found it?
Apart from Foyle. Anyone else?
The police were there,
obviously.
My parents.
Aunt Prudence came to collect...
PRUDENCE: Arthur, put that down.
Arthur...
No!
He's gone!
He wouldn't hurt anyone.
We've got to find him.
The wolf.
He's taken the wolf costume.
Arthur!
(blows horn)
(cheering)
Ladies and gentlemen,
we are about to begin
our treasure hunt!
(cheering)
Third prize,
half a case of French champagne!
(cheering)
Second prize, an entire case
of French champagne!
(cheering)
First prize,
a night in the boudoir
with Isabella!
(cheering)
(laughs)
Or me!
(laughter)
- Or both!
- (cheering)
Here's your first clue,
ladies and gentlemen.
"A rose by any other name
would smell as sweet
but only one rose
will lead you to your treat."
On your marks,
ladies and gentlemen.
Get set for the highlight
of the evening.
- And... (blows horn)
Tally-ho!
Onward and upward!
Where's Jane?
- She was here.
- Jane!
So the prison sent his body
to you at Mrs Clark's request?
That's right. I don't remember
everyone who comes through
but she was an odd one.
- In what way?
- She signed off on the job,
we showed her in
to view the deceased
and then we never saw her again.
Haven't heard from her
since either.
But you definitely cremated
Mr Foyle?
Er...
Miss Williams is a relative.
Excuse me, miss.
Didn't mean to be rude.
Yes, we went ahead with the job.
Well, there you are, then.
Commiserations
on your bereavement.
PHRYNE: Jane, where are you?
Jane, are you alright?
I thought this was the next clue
but there's nothing on it.
- Where's Arthur?
- What is it?
Time for you to go home, Jane.
Gather your things, Jane.
I'll get Cec and Bert
to bring around the taxi.
How do we tell if that's him?
What's that?
Just bone probably.
No, it's shiny.
It's more like glass.
Where's that
photograph of Mrs Clark?
Here. This description.
"Born 1856."
"She had one eye,
the other was a glass eye."
Hugh,
these ashes are not Foyle's.
They're his mother's.
There's been a swap.
Right under your nose, Mother!
When were you...
Guy! Guy, what's going on?
Arthur loves Jane!
Yes, he adored Janey and
Marigold too. Can't you see?
He's the common thread.
Stop it!
GUY: All my life
it's been about poor Arthur!
I know you didn't
mean to hurt anyone.
Just take him away and lock him
in an asylum where he belongs!
No!
PHRYNE: Arthur, let go!
What more is it going to take,
huh?
Guy, darling, come back!
Whatever happened, Arthur,
none of it's your fault.
You can tell me. Please.
Ssh, it's alright, darling.
Be calm.
It's not mine. I'm not supposed
to have sweeties.
- Where did you get this?
- It was him.
DOT: Miss Phryne.
It wasn't him. He wasn't
the one who was cremated.
It was his foster mother.
- Dot, are you sure?
- It's true, sir.
It was Gertrude Clark
who entered into those flames.
The ribbon.
Arthur, tell me everything
that happened tonight.
I wanted to go to the party
but Mother wouldn't let me.
And when I went outside,
the man was there.
He gave me another toffee apple
but he took my costume
and he hit me.
The same man
you saw with Marigold?
Yes. The woodcutter.
The one who took Janey away.
Oh my God.
Foyle drowned Marigold.
He knew I'd help my aunt.
And he's still out there, Jack.
I wonder if I could trouble you
for a lift?
My car won't start and I need
to get back to St Kilda.
No worries, jump in.
We're heading that way.
I've let all the staff know.
At least
Jane's out of harm's way.
The guard at the gatehouse
saw a man holding a wolf costume
flag down a taxi.
- We've just missed them.
- Cec and Bert!
We'll take my car.
Dot, telephone Mr Butler.
Warn him to lock
all the doors and windows
and tell him Jane's on her way.
(phone rings)
(phone continues to ring)
There has to be someone
at that number.
It's an emergency. Could you
please check the line for me?
BERT: Are we home yet?
Go back to sleep, will you?
Goodnight, then.
Thank you.
So where can we drop you?
Anywhere near
Acland Street will be fine.
Acland Street.
(kettle whistles)
(doorbell)
Excuse me,
I'm so sorry to bother you
but I appear to have left
my house keys back in my car.
Do you think
I could use your telephone?
Of course. Come in.
- The telephone's just there.
- Thank you.
Good evening.
Could you please connect me
to a number
at the Camberwell Exchange?
I was a professor
at the university.
Really? I want to go to
university. What did you teach?
History was my area.
Ancient worlds are my passion.
Mine too!
Er, milk?
No, thank you.
Makes me think of Cleopatra.
Bathing in asses' milk.
Oh, yes.
She was in love with Marc
Antony, who was a Roman general.
Tell me more about Cleopatra.
Feeling better, Mr Butler?
Yes. In fact,
I'm really rather peckish.
You are?
Mr Ayrton's car
broke down at the party.
He teaches history.
Does he?
Well, that's very interesting.
Thank you for the tea.
I should be leaving.
I'll see you out, Mr Ayrton.
Jane?
Where are you?
Jane!
- What's wrong?
- Where is he?
Where's Murdoch Foyle?
He'll be back.