You once told me you could get me on a plane to America.
Times have changed. Everyone and his dog wants out.
- How much? - Well, five grand a head.
- Fuck. - We need to swallow our pride
and do one last job with Gully.
Gully's dangerous.
Mad as a hatter.
Who dares wins, eh?
Tell me it wasn't you
who robbed the wrestling and killed those people.
- Aah! - No, don't! Stop!
Things went wrong.
- Get out. - This tragedy is all the more reason
- we have to get to America. - For the millionth time,
I am not going to America.
Least of all with a murderous robber!
Our next candidate for prime minister is Mr. John Ripper.
If you elect me leader of the League,
we'll put the boots in hard and heavy!
I would like to dismiss Mr. Ripper's plan
on moral grounds.
Love, compassion...
the liberal virtues are our greatest weapons,
and we shall win out in the end,
because humanity is with us!
I bring news from London.
The League have elected a new prime minister.
Perhaps this Aziz chap will be someone
we can do business with.
Do you speak for Harwood and the Union or for yourself?
I speak for the good of the English people.
How can I refuse such virtue?
Mrs. Gaunt held a face-to-face meeting
with Prime Minister Aziz yesterday.
I went to speak to him on your behalf.
You broke my heart, Frances.
You broke my fucking heart.
I was trying to help you!
Yes, of course, Frances, you're right, I'm crazy.
Ancillary technical staff,
Dr. Lucius Fox.
_
I'm not sure if you're brave or stupid.
Both.
- Why are you here? - Why do you think?
He hurt you, so you want to hurt him.
Would you like me to leave?
No.
God, I hate polyester sheets.
They make everything sordid.
Light me one.
Friday.
I guess this is hello and goodbye, then.
Probably, yeah.
Mm.
Next couple of days will be well busy.
It's been fun.
Brief.
But fun.
Yeah.
Fun.
Wish things were different.
Do you?
I just said I did.
Do you like me, Alfie?
Well, I think I just showed you I did.
No, I mean as a person.
As a person?
I hardly know you, madam.
Why do you like me, then?
You don't love me.
You don't have stupid dreams
about the happy life that we're gonna have together.
Hmm.
The perfect woman.
Yeah, you might be.
How do you know...
that I don't love you?
Get out.
You don't, do you?
I wish I did.
I'd like to be in love with somebody.
People in love have a purpose in life.
But I'm not in love and I've got a purpose.
What, America, you mean?
What's wrong with America?
Nothing.
I'd go myself if I could.
That's not a purpose, it's...
it's just a destination.
You could go.
If you wanted.
How?
Well...
I don't know.
Anything's possible.
Relax.
I'm not asking you.
I'm not asking you for anything.
Good.
'Cause I'd find it hard to say no.
_
Thirteen...
fourteen...
15,000.
That was fast.
You rob a bank?
That's three seats on your plane
plus the paperwork and bribes, as agreed. Right?
Absolutely. It's all there.
I'm impressed.
Didn't think you could pull together
that amount of cash so fast.
Do you want to count it?
I figured you'd be short.
And I knew you wouldn't take a loan, so, actually,
I had a quick job lined up for you.
Payment in kind kind of deal.
Help if you needed it.
But... never mind.
Not needed.
That's very considerate of you.
Anyhow, the job's still there if you're interested.
It would fit your schedule
and it's good money.
I'm afraid you're wasting your time.
I'm not ever coming to work for you.
Not you or anyone else.
Anyway, things to do before I go.
See you Friday.
Friday.
Prime Minister.
- Good of you to see me. - Good of you to come.
Martha.
Thomas.
Prime Minister...
I need your help.
- Go on. - We have an agent
inside the Raven Union.
A top-ranking scientist
working on the Stormcloud project.
The Union doesn't know he's a CIA plant.
He's asked to be pulled out ASAP...
like, yesterday...
without blowing his cover.
A League kidnapping would be convincing.
What is Stormcloud exactly?
We're fairly sure it's some new kind of chemical weapon,
- but that's all we know. - That's all we know.
It's why we want to speak to our guy ASAP.
We could retrieve this scientist for you,
but why would we?
The CIA are backing the Union,
actively working for our defeat.
Well, your defeat's a foregone conclusion.
The CIA likes to back winners.
Winners who'll immediately declare war
on Scotland and Wales.
Winners who plan to "take back the empire."
Winners who'll rule by violence and fear.
Who doesn't rule by violence and fear?
- That's... - Restrain yourself, Martha.
Thomas is speaking for his government.
I'm sure his personal feelings are entirely honorable.
But I don't see how this favor works.
Short of switching sides,
what can you do for us in return?
Well, if we can't do anything for the League,
what can we do for you?
For you, personally, I mean.
At last. I thought you'd never ask.
Go on.
You're close to Aleister Crowley.
- Close? No. - Well, you speak to him.
When necessary.
Perhaps you can pass along a message.
Warn him that John Ripper plans to abduct
and murder him.
I'd tell him myself, but it's far more credible
coming from you.
If that's all you want, I...
I won't ask why.
That's all.
Done.
Our scientist is well-protected by Union bodyguards.
You'll need good men
known by all as League operatives.
Alfred Pennyworth would be the best choice,
if he's willing.
I expect I can persuade him.
Thank you, sir.
Martha.
Thomas.
I'd like you to handle this one if you would, Martha.
Of course, but I don't understand what you're doing.
A favor for a powerful man.
And the rare chance for you to speak to a Raven Union scientist
about this Stormcloud business.
I get all that. What I don't underst...
Excuse me.
Are you all right?
Uh... yeah, I'm fine.
I'm fine. Um...
What's the deal with Ripper and Crowley?
I would have thought that was obvious.
Ripper wants my job, and I don't want him to have it.
That's the second time you've been sick
- this morning. - I'm fine.
? Five-story fire as you came. ?
Hello, Sandra.
Hello, sweetheart.
There's no need to apologize.
I knew you wouldn't show up.
- What? - Recording session?
Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Uh, work.
Yeah, I know, I know.
You never change.
Do you want to hear me new number?
We call 'em numbers in show business, not songs.
- Don't know why. - Yeah, maybe later.
Let's have a chat first.
Your face.
You'd think somebody had died.
It was only a recording session.
There'll be more, hopefully.
Nobody has died, have they?
No, no. Nothing like that.
Oh, thank God.
Feel like a right lemon.
What's wrong, then?
There's nothing wrong.
No, it's-it's a good thing, really.
When all's said and done.
You know...
you know how I've always said I'm no good for you, Sand?
Well...
I've always said that, haven't I?
Yeah, it's the first thing you ever said to me, I think.
It's a good thing I don't listen to you.
But it's true, isn't it? You know that.
Girl with prospects like you.
Prospects.
Well, show business and that.
Oh, right, that.
I'm leaving, Sandra.
I'm going to America.
Soon as I can arrange it.
America.
You mean without me?
Well, I'd take you, but...
you know, I need to be ducking and diving.
It wouldn't be fair on you.
Um...
I thought...
I love you.
I love you, too.
In my way.
Don't cry.
Don't tell me what to do.
I can cry if I like.
Yeah. Sorry.
Oh.
What's that?
That's an apology. I suppose.
For messing you about.
Money.
I have to go.
I don't know what else to do. I have to leave.
I'm sorry, Sandra.
Yeah. So you keep saying.
That's all right. I understand.
You have to go.
Thank you for telling me the truth.
- That's very considerate of you. - Sandra, I...
Some blokes would have just left without saying anything.
I'd have been ever so worried if you'd done that,
not knowing where you'd gone, so...
that's good.
I really hope you have a very happy life.
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --
Evans?
- Sir? - Pop a stamp on that
and put it in the post, would you?
Ah.
Dispatches from General Thursday, sir.
Thank you.
Sir, might I speak freely?
Of course, Lieutenant.
Regarding Mrs. Gaunt...
Yes?
Frances Gaunt would never be disloyal or treacherous.
A mistake has been made.
Has it?
Go on.
The Gaunt family and mine
are from the same part of the country.
Known 'em well for...
... 500 years.
My sister's married to her cousin.
Good, solid people.
A Gaunt would never be involved in skullduggery of any sort.
500 years.
I expect you must know best, then.
I do.
And I'll need your help explaining to Lord Harwood
that Frances Gaunt is innocent.
My help?
How could I help?
Don't be obtuse.
You have Harwood's ear.
Bend it a little.
Once you've prepared the ground,
I'll go to His Lordship
and explain man-to-man how he's been misled.
I see.
Simple as that.
I'd be happy to help, of course.
But...
What's in it for you?
My good opinion of you.
I should think that's worth something.
Indeed.
You are a very promising young man.
Everyone says so.
Hands where we can see 'em!
- Clear! - All clear!
Hello, Your Majesty.
- Aziz. - Alfie.
Don't look so scared.
Oh, I'm not scared.
Just surprised.
You've been avoiding me.
Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I've been very busy.
I could have you hung for disrespect.
Steady on.
It's not you. It's me.
Not good enough for you, am I?
No, you're not.
Obviously.
Chalk and...
well, cheese, isn't it?
Oh, do relax.
I'm taking the piss.
We're here to talk business.
Oh.
Well.
We have a job for you.
Thanks for thinking of me and all that,
but I'm not in that business anymore.
I'm leaving London.
I know. America. I'm very envious.
Fuck's sake, does every bastard know my plans?
The job we have in mind won't take long.
It's a simple extraction.
Every job's simple until it isn't. No, thanks.
I do understand your reservations,
but I'm afraid I must insist.
It's a matter of state security.
- Most important. - We'll pay you very well.
I don't need your money.
Well, then we won't pay you with money.
We'll pay you with silence.
What's that mean?
Well, do you really need or want me to explain?
Yeah. I do. Talk straight.
You're meeting privately with another man's wife.
Who told you that?
Someone's been mugging you off.
Amazing.
He lies with such conviction.
And to be fair, Your Majesty, perhaps yet again
- we have been misinformed. - Mm.
But it doesn't really matter, does it, now?
Once revealed, that sort of story
takes on a life of its own.
I gather the relevant husband is a man of strong feelings.
You think you can scare me into working for you?
No, no, no, of course not. No, no, no.
I think you're a gentleman.
I think you'll protect the honor of a woman at all costs.
This is a new low.
I'm suitably ashamed. Martha Kane will be in touch.
Alfie, no hard feelings.
I wish you every happiness.
Same.
Hello?
It's me.
- If he's there, just say yes. - Yes.
All right. I'm your hairdresser changing an appointment.
Okay.
Someone's grassed us up.
Has he been acting strange at all?
No.
He might know.
Is there somewhere you can go?
No, that's okay. Friday's fine.
Don't take the chance.
Get out of there.
Anyway, thank you for letting me know.
- That was my hairdresser. - Ah.
What's the matter?
Nothing.
You look pale as a ghost.
Yes, well, you are red as a lobster.
- What a fine pair we make, eh? - Hmm.
Here.
What's he gonna do to you?
Who?
Your hairdresser.
Oh.
I-I hadn't thought.
Mm. Well...
well, don't, uh, don't let him ruin you.
No, I shan't.
'Cause I like you just the way you are.
- Morning, Aleister. - John!
How strange. I was just thinking of you.
Really? What were you thinking?
- Happy thoughts. - Get in.
We need to have a chat.
I was just taking Atilla to the park.
Why don't you walk with us?
Get in the car.
If you insist.
Lovely to see you.
Dear me.
That was unnecessary.
What the fuck is this?
I don't know. What is it?
Do you think you can scare me
with all your Satanist bollocks?
- Listen, John, I... - Pentangles, I ask you.
I've buried hundreds of Satanists.
And not one of them's done anything
except rot in their grave.
You're just blood and guts like everybody else.
And you have the fucking temerity
to threaten me
with all your black magic nonsense?
I'm John fucking Ripper!
And I eat men like you...
for a snack.
As a bit of light...
Dear me. Driver?
What's the matter with...
- Wake up! - Oh, fuck!
Hey.
What, is that us off to America?
Huh?
- I'll get my last pint, then. - Not yet.
Soon.
Couple of last-minute bumps to handle.
So why'd you wake me up?
I need you, Daveboy.
One more job for Aziz before we go.
How did he manage that?
What's he got on you?
You don't need to come along if you don't want to.
That bad, eh?
Yeah.
So tell us.
You don't need to know.
No, you're right, I don't.
I can't tell you everything.
There's a lady involved.
Mrs. Troy.
No.
Yeah.
Hang on, how the fuck do you know that?
Ah, Christ, man, half the club knows.
And I can read as well as the next man,
and she has got trouble written across her forehead in red paint.
- No, she's not like she seems. - Aye.
Aye, no doubt.
You fucking suicidal lunatic that you are.
The wife of Gully Troy? The fucking wife
- of fucking Gully Troy? - I know, I know.
Do you recall what he did to those prisoners
in What-the-fuck-istan?
Three days and nights they were screaming like Cutty Sark.
I remember.
I hope you love the woman, at least.
Oh!
You poor quim-struck bastard, you.
You know, I wish Bazza was here.
He'd know what to say to you.
Yeah, well, Bazza's not here, is he?
So...
what's the job, then?
So how are you guys?
Truly.
Swings and roundabouts.
- I'm sorry about Bazza. - That's show business.
You don't need to put on a callous facade with me.
I know how wounded you must feel.
Both of you.
I'm all right.
- Me, too. - Really?
I'd be racked by grief.
And anger. And guilt.
Well, that's you, isn't it?
I'm all right.
- You look terrible. - Thanks.
You look lovely, by the way.
Blooming. I told you she'd start.
Straight for the throat.
- Like a fucking cobra. - That's not fair.
I care for you guys,
and I can see that you're both torturing yourselves over Bazza.
And you shouldn't.
Steady on, duchess.
It's bad luck to talk about lost comrades when you're on a job.
Very bad luck.
Might as well fuck an albatross.
Sorry.
But you should just try to forgive yourselves.
That's all I'm saying.
- Fuck. - Don't worry.
We'll do this nice and quiet.
Those blokes don't want trouble any more than we do.
You think?
Okay, ma'am, now, this is important.
You must place the cheese on the patty
while it's in the pan,
and you must let it melt properly.
Then and only then do you put the patty
on the toasted bun
and only then do you apply the lettuce and the tomato
and the onion.
Are we clear?
We'll see.
"We'll see." Okay.
Hi. Excuse me, sorry.
I heard your accent. Are you American?
- Yes. Yes, I-I am. - Oh, my God. Me, too.
That's so weird.
I don't know what's weird
about shared nationality.
Tell me, do you know where I can get an acceptable cheeseburger
- in this country? - Move along, love.
Excuse me?
Move along.
I asked her a pertinent question.
We've been over this, sir.
No unauthorized communication.
Oh, gee.
What are you, like, um, a criminal or something?
- Or something. - Hello.
I'm Alfie.
Who are you?
Walsh.
Walsh. What regiment?
Before all this nonsense.
? Love me, too, fool... ?
Paras.
- Hmm. - You?
Catering Corps.
? Like you hurt me... ?
Now, we have to take this gentleman with us,
and I was hoping to do that nice and easy.
No fuss.
SAS, is it?
There's three of you, three of us.
More outside.
All Paras, as it happens.
Any cunt can fall out of an airplane.
Yeah. Show a gun, see what occurs.
Ma'am? Ma'am, there's about to be violence.
- You need to leave. No. - But I just ordered.
You need to leave now.
- Folks, listen... - Sir, shut it.
Walsh, I'm trying to avoid trouble.
Fuck off, then.
I wish I could.
Think about your family.
You got family, haven't you?
? That hurt me... ?
None to speak of.
? Untrue... ?
None?
No.
It saves money at Christmas.
Hmm.
? Knowing I love you so ?
? Anyone who had a heart would take me in his arms ?
? And love me, too, fool ?
? Couldn't be another heart ?
? That hurt me like you hurt me... ?
- Any damage? - I'm okay.
Daveboy?
Meh. Just a scratch.
Hey.
Professor Fox? We have to go.
No kidding.
Go, go, go, go, go, go!
Oh, shit.
Um, uh, I'm sorry about all this.
Long live the League!
- Clear. - You can sit up now, Professor.
Fuck!
Why'd he do that?
I tried to reason with the man.
Paras. Fuck 'em.
Was that seriously the best plan you could come up with?
Come on, now.
We didn't have time to come up with a clever plan.
We were told you needed to be rescued ASAP.
I'm Martha Kane. Nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you. Lucius Fox.
So, why'd you need to get out so fast anyhow?
- All kinds of reasons. - Oh.
You must be a pretty important guy, huh?
No. Not at all.
Huh.
So, you're a scientist?
F-Forgive me, what did you say your name was?
- Martha Kane. Mm-hmm. - Miss Kane?
I'd dearly love to tell you what I know.
But I'm bound by oaths of secrecy,
so please understand pumping me for information
would be a sad waste of your time.
Abducted?
How the devil did your people let this happen?
The League agents were led
by that ex-SAS chap Pennyworth.
Took out five guards.
Him again.
I'm beginning to dislike that chap.
On the bright side, Professor Fox was a backroom boy.
Not a crucial part of the operational staff.
Well, that's all well and good,
but the League will know all about Stormcloud now.
Perhaps that's a blessing.
After all, what good is Stormcloud as a threat
if the League doesn't believe it to be genuine?
Oh, they'll believe it. When they're all choking
to bloody death, they'll believe it.
Your lordship is being humorous, of course.
We're not gonna actually deploy the wretched thing.
It's leverage. No more.
Yes, yes. Humor. Humor. Wishful thinking.
Stormcloud is leverage, merely leverage.
As long as we understand each other.
Your pills, sir.
These new?
No, sir. The same medication.
Different color.
He's a bit soft for a soldier, isn't he?
Like sponge cake, sir.
You're a good fellow, Salt.
I'm gonna need a new deputy chancellor to replace Gaunt.
I think I'll appoint you.
Me, sir?
I'm deeply honored, sir, but...
But what?
Honestly, I'm not worthy of such a high position.
A simple commoner like myself.
The staff would look down on me.
Your manner is somewhat plebeian, I suppose.
Indeed, sir.
Your advisor should be a person of natural rank.
Me, I'd cut a sad figure.
Ah, well, there's your answer, then.
I shall give you a knighthood.
What's wrong with a knighthood?
I'm a simple North Country lad.
It'd take more than a knighthood
- to elevate the likes of me. - Well, a baronet, then.
Is that elevated enough for you, hmm?
- Dixon. - Yes, sir.
I don't know what to say.
Fetch the Duke of Windermere away from his cocktail cabinet
and have him make Salt here a baronet
as soon as is applicable.
There you are, sir.
You're a toff now. Well done.
I'm deeply conscious of the honor, sir.
But? What else?
I don't want to speak out of turn, sir.
But given my new role...
Well, talk, man. Talk.
Seems Gaunt still has friends among us.
Friends that still support her.
Pushing quietly to have her pardoned
and brought back to power.
Traitors, then. Who?
I don't know.
Whoever they are, they move in higher circles than I do.
I just hear rumors. Perhaps it's not true.
No, no, no, I-I... I believe you.
I suspected it.
Treachery is-is contagious,
and she would never have dared act alone.
Some wretch has corrupted her.
And you, you-you must find out who they are,
- these-these friends of Gaunt. - Mm.
Above my pay grade, as they say, sir.
Mm.
I'm no detective,
but I suspect they'll reveal themselves.
Well, h-how?
Gaunt can't be saved without your permission.
These traitors will have to come to you
- and argue for her release. - That's true.
Whoever comes to you,
however reasonable they seem, however loyal,
- that's your traitor. - Yeah.
Professor Fox.
Welcome home. Thomas Wayne.
Mr. Wayne.
Thank you for your assistance.
Oh, you're very welcome, sir.
At your service.
Well, goodbye, Professor Fox.
I just know you and this one...
you're gonna get along like a house on fire.
Goodbye, Miss Kane.
I'm very happy to meet you at last.
Heard great things about you.
I've heard very little about you.
Rich kid.
New promotion.
Well, that's, uh...
That's me in a nutshell.
Interesting woman, Martha Kane.
Why do you think so?
Just strikes me that way.
Mm. You know, she's a character.
You two are ex-lovers, I suppose.
- That's a very odd question. - It wasn't a question.
Observation.
It's that obvious, huh?
What have you got for us, Professor?
Film...
of the last Stormcloud trials.
The new version
is at least five times more powerful than projected.
They could kill the entire population of London
with a device the size of a cigarette lighter.
The active agent attacks the limbic system.
Victims die of terror.
Literally.
Ready for deployment by next week.
That is bad news.
The president needs to step in.
Harwood needs to know if he deploys Stormcloud,
America will squash him like a June bug.
Deployment of Stormcloud would be the worst atrocity committed
since World War II. We're talking about hundreds
of thousands dead.
Well, that's a worst-case scenario.
Unbalanced Harwood may be, but he can't pull the trigger
without the support of the Army general staff.
And they'd never agree to such madness.
All we can do right now is pass along the intel
with a big red flag on it.
A red flag?
We supply the data,
and Washington makes the decision.
And they'll do the right thing.
America won't stand still for a mass murder.
I saw Stormcloud.
I helped test it. I saw people dying in agony,
and I had to stand there and do nothing
with a goddamn clipboard in my hand.
If...
If our government doesn't act...
I damn sure will.
And what will you do?
You're CIA station chief.
What will you do?
Hello?
Crowley?
Crowley!
I'm not scared!
You drugged me!
Well done!
You're just making it worse for yourself when I catch you.
Do you hear me?!
- Crowley! - John.
John...
What? What the... ?
Oh, my God.
Mr. Ripper? Mr. Ripper.
Mr. Ripper, what's the meaning of this behavior?
What's wrong with him?
Dear me, I don't know.
Help me.
He's had some kind of nervous breakdown.
Perhaps we should call a doctor.
Yes.
He's been under a lot of stress.
A long rest in Bedlam will do him a power of good, poor chap.
Why? Why is this happening?
It was me, old friend.
I did this to you.
No! No! No! No, no!
Another day, another fucking massacre.
I need a drink.
Juice?
- Whiskey, please. - Coming up.
I tried, didn't I? I tried to do things peaceful.
Well, I hope America's worth all this shite.
How many people have died to get us there?
Mm.
I want a word with you.
All right, Sid.
- Look, I know Sandra's upset. - Don't you even mention her name.
My Sandra's too good for a dosser like you.
Yes, she is, yeah.
- She hasn't stopped crying. - Look, I'm sorry. I am.
Yeah. Full of remorse, ain't ya?
Real gentleman you are.
Why don't you sod off to America, you cunt?
Good riddance.
You had that coming.
Fuck off, Daveboy.
- Fuck off, yourself. - I'm sick and bloody tired
of everyone blaming me for everything, all right?
I'm just trying to make something of myself, that's all.
Oh, aye, well,
you've made something of yourself, that's for sure.
- Shut it! - Oh, aye?
Or else what, eh? Hey?
Fuck off and get drunk.
Leave me alone.
Aye.
- Fucking move. - Oh!
Bad day, was it?
Had worse.
Where's your hanky?
Ain't got one.
How many times have I told you?
Always have a clean hanky with you.
Not like that.
You'll make the bleeding worse.
Remember your first bloody nose?
Marjorie Pimm, the milkie's daughter.
You tried to kiss her.
Gave me a right kicking.
You've not been far from trouble ever since.
I've tried.
You've tried, but not hard enough.
There's something about trouble that you like.
I'm sorry, Mum, for everything.
Oh, I know you are.
That's my only consolation.
I know you're ashamed of yourself.
I don't know what to do with you anymore.
Mum...
Shh.
Your dad would like me to look after you,
keep you out of mischief.
How can I do that if you're thousands of miles away?
I can't.
You can't.
So... I will come with you to bloody America,
on one condition.
What's that, then?
No guns, no violence,
and you'll give me some grandchildren.
That's three conditions.
And we can't live anywhere near their bears or wolves.
Or snakes.
Promise.
All right, then.
? The look of love ?
? Is in your eyes ?
? A look ?
? Your smile can't disguise... ?
Hi, Martha.
How was your day?
Shitty.
What the fuck are you doing?
Art.
I said you could stay over.
I didn't say you could paint naked men.
Didn't say I couldn't.
Whatever.
So what have you been doing?
I have been...
watching people die.
Bummer.
Yeah.
Hi, Martha.
Please call me as soon as you get this message.
It's very important. Call me.
Like hell I will.
Sweetheart, will you fuck off, please?
So...
? That time... ?
You haven't told him?
Told him what?
That you're pregnant.
? Be mine tonight... ?
How do you know?
You have that... special glow.
Fuck off. How do you know?
? So many nights like this... ?
You're farting all the time, and your tits are magnificent.
Fuck.
So you haven't told him?
No, not yet.
Don't blame you. He will freak the fuck out.
Thanks a lot. I know.
That's why I haven't told him.
So, um...
do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?
No, I don't.
Please yourself.
? Don't ever go ?
- Have you got that, Dixon? - Yes, sir.
- Right, well, run along. - Sir.
Good evening, sir.
Dispatches from General Thursday.
Oh.
I understand congratulations are in order.
Sir John.
Thank you so much.
I am deeply humbled by the honor done me.
Sir, might I have a moment of your time?
Carry on.
Regarding Mrs. Gaunt...
I've made enquiries, sir.
Enquiries? Jolly good.
Everyone I spoke to believes she's innocent
of the charges against her.
Oh, do they? Interesting, Sir John?
Indeed.
Well, go on.
I suspect she was framed somehow.
A cunning plot was devised to deceive you and ruin her.
To what end?
With her gone, I imagine it was thought
you'd be more isolated, alone.
She was your closest advisor, was she not?
An old friend.
She was.
Who better to take from you, sir?
What greater loss could you suffer?
Who sent you?
Nobody, sir. I came of my own accord.
Nonsense.
You're not the leader of this conspiracy.
A little pipsqueak like you.
- You're working for somebody else. - Conspiracy, sir? I don't follow you.
Don't you take me for a fool, boy.
Hmm?
Who sent you?
- You tell me. - Your Lordship.
Shut up, Dixon! Are you part of this, too?
I think we are at cross-purposes, sir.
I am here solely to defend the honor...
You tell me the truth, boy!
With all respect, I resent this treatment!
You treacherous dog.
You heard him!
He admitted it!
He's a bloody traitor.
He's a traitor!
He's dead.
What the hell?
- What happened here? - The man's a traitor.
Are you mad?
What have you done?
He confessed it.
We all heard him.
Nonsense. Greaves was the best man on my staff.
I see. I see it all. It's you.
You're the snake! You're the traitor!
It's you!
Guards?
Guards!
Take Lord Harwood away and confine him to his quarters.
No. No.
No. No...
No.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Please.
No, not me.
I can't. I can't. I can't.
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --