(knocking)
Get out here, you weasel!
Easy, Thommo, mate.
That's enough damage
for one night.
I've got all the dirt on you,
Chambers.
Give it a rest, would you?
He's gone.
Happy now?
Gutless, conniving bastard.
You didn't
have to take a swing at him.
Come on, mate.
It's your shout.
Well, that's it, I'm skint now.
Stony broke. Thanks to you.
Oh, dry up, will you?
Here's your ruddy pound back.
You'll get yours next pay.
Now get off my back.
- Pack it in, you two!
- Bloody hell.
(engine starts)
You've got a cheek doing that,
that's for sure.
(tires screech)
- Thommo!
- Hey! Hey!
Hey, you alright?
Thommo!
- Thommo!
- It's alright.
What can you tell us
about the vehicle?
Not much.
The lamps were shining
full in my face.
Something big and flash.
Did you see
the registration number?
So the three of you stopped
here before for a drink?
Yeah? So?
JACK: What about Thommo?
A few beers?
More than that?
Shouldn't you be out there
finding whoever it was did this?
Tell us again
exactly what happened
just before the accident.
That wasn't no accident.
We heard Mr Birmingham
and Mr Cliff
were having a disagreement.
Heard? From who?
From Cliff.
They had a few words,
that's all.
Just words?
There might
have been a bit of shoving.
Which left Mr Birmingham
in the path
of an oncoming vehicle.
You reckon
Ronnie did this on purpose?
That car came straight at us!
(bell)
Ah! Ma petite Phryne.
Veronique Sarcelle?
- Have I changed that much?
- Of course not.
Mr Butler, café au lait,
s'il vous plait.
BUTLER: Certainement.
What brings you
all the way to Melbourne?
To surprise you, ma chérie,
what else?
- Can I take your scarf?
- No, no, I'm fine.
What a surprise.
After all these years!
Oh, I wanted to see
this part of the world.
Pierre always talked
of making the journey.
He wanted to paint
in this light.
Which I am
still not accustomed to.
- How long has it been?
- Nine years, at least.
Good times, oui?
Interesting times.
Ah.
Surely you still have
some of his paintings?
I had to sell them all.
It broke my heart
but, oh, the bills.
You had to survive somehow.
It was never easy, even before.
But how happy we were.
You remember?
I remember the singing
and the dancing
and all those mad, bad parties.
(laughs) The war was over.
Paris was free.
We were intoxicated with life.
And Sarcelle,
he was inspired to paint.
He was like a demon,
day and night.
And now it is lost.
At least I know this one
has a safe home.
Do you remember
sitting for this?
(laughs) I remember
too much wine for lunch.
"Don't move," Pierre kept
saying. "I'm not moving!
BOTH: "It's the room!"
Pierre could not
then sell a painting.
After he died,
everyone wanted a Sarcelle.
When it was too late.
This was always
one of my favorites.
But there was one
I wanted even more.
Oh! It cannot be!
She was sold to a dealer.
A dealer commissioned by me.
Ma petite Phryne.
This was the one
you truly wanted.
Sarcelle would not part with it.
Ah, Pierre, mon amour.
How I miss you.
I'm sorry.
I never thought to see it again.
You know this was his best work.
That's what he always said.
He would never sell it.
We will never know
what happened
that terrible night.
(whistle)
Ah!
Argh!
(whistle)
Coffee is ready downstairs,
Miss Fisher.
Thank you, Mr Butler.
If a French luncheon
is in order,
I noticed that the butcher's
shop has duck in the window.
That's very considerate
but we will be dining out.
- Very good, miss.
- Mr Butler.
The painting in the parlor.
You know the one I mean.
Could you please lift it down
and wrap it?
Madame Sarcelle
will be taking it with her.
Of course.
Phryne, no!
- I did not come here...
- It belongs with you.
And it's what Pierre
would have wanted.
You must understand,
I cannot pay you.
Which is just the way I want it.
How many times do you need
to hear the same bloody story?
The car headed straight for us.
That's all we know.
We just need to finish
your statements, alright?
Excuse me.
Track down any witnesses?
The bloke from the bakery says
he saw a car parked out front
just before closing.
A blue Rolls.
Did you say Rolls?
Do you know anyone
who owns a blue Rolls?
- Hector bloody Chambers.
- The bookie?
That slimy, double-crossing
little toad.
First he fleeces us and then...
Then he tries to run you down?
Why?
We got the nod on a horse in the
fourth at Flemington yesterday.
On a fixed race, no doubt.
Don't know nothing about that.
So we all had a tipple.
50 to one.
Bet a pound each with Chambers.
- And the horse came in first?
- By four lengths.
So we front Chambers
in the back bar.
When Thommo tried to get him to
cough up, he just laughed at us.
Said he wouldn't pay out
on a tip-off.
That's when
there was a bit of biff.
Told Thommo Chambers wasn't
worth it but it was too late.
- He took a swing.
- Birmingham hit Chambers?
MAN: Bert!
Oh, you blokes
are a sight for sore eyes.
Just been to see Thommo's
missus at the hospital.
And?
Not good.
Out of my road, Tarzan.
What now, sir?
We have a word with Chambers,
Constable,
before Bert and his mates do.
Trust me, Seth.
This nag's had so much
rocket fuel pumped into her
she could run to Sydney
and back.
Yeah, no problem.
- Hector Chambers?
- Who wants to know?
Detective Inspector
Jack Robinson.
Bit early to be drinking,
isn't it?
Pure health tonic.
Kicked alcohol years ago.
Gives me gout.
No ill effects from smoking,
though?
(coughs)
None at all.
Why don't you tell us how your
vehicle came to be involved
in a hit and run last night?
Or you could tell me.
You had a dispute about a bet
with the victim.
I understand
he gave you that shiner.
I'm a well-to-do gentleman.
I've got better things to do
than run down diggers
for the sake of 150 quid.
So you admit
they did place bets with you?
I admit nothing.
Hmm.
Oh!
Never seen that before.
It's a public bar.
Nothing to do with me
so you can't charge me.
How about we charge you
with murder instead, hmm?
Murder?
What?
Birmingham and his colleagues
placed a bet
but there was a dispute
when you refused to pay out.
Then he struck you
a blow to the eye
and you retaliated
by running him down.
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
hold your horses.
The Police Association clubrooms
must be in need of, what,
a couple of new punching bags,
yeah?
Some new table tennis
paddle sticks, yeah?
- Add bribery to the charges.
- Yes, sir.
- Look, my Rolls was stolen.
- How convenient.
I might even have half an idea
who stole it.
His name?
I'm bad with names.
Something, er, foreign.
Describe him.
Foreign-looking.
Doesn't sound
like much of an alibi.
Sure you want to stick
to that story?
The foreigner stole my Rolls.
(piano music)
(gasps)
C'est Cafe Anatole!
Recreated down
to the last tiny detail,
as Cafe Replique,
for obvious reasons.
Mademoiselle Fisher!
It has been too long.
And who is your charming friend?
Anatole, c'est moi! Veronique!
- Veronique?
- Oui!
- Sarcelle?
- Oui.
Ma chérie!
I hardly recognize you!
You are well?
Oui, oui, of course. And you?
Life is good.
An early luncheon
is highly in order.
Is that onion soup I smell?
Made fresh this morning.
- With cognac?
- Naturellement.
Ah, bon.
Jean, soupe à l'oignon for two.
- Yes, sir.
- May I take your coat?
Oui.
Ah, merci, Jean.
Not your usual table,
Mademoiselle Fisher,
but Veronique will like this one
much better.
Regardez-vous. The opening
of Cafe Anatole of Paris.
Oh!
Without you,
we would have starved.
Such a great artist.
I like to think I helped him
in some small way.
But it is good the French police
have reopened the investigation
into his death, oui?
Have they?
It was reported
in the French newspapers.
I have La Presse posted to me.
I keep them all.
What prompted the reopening
of the investigation?
Now that his work is famous,
now they care.
You are here with the police?
No. I came only
to see my old friend, Phryne.
Have they found the Australians
who saw what happened?
The gendarmes,
they do not confide in me.
- (bell)
- Excusez-moi.
Do you know what line
of investigation
the police are pursuing?
Perhaps I could be
of assistance.
That's right,
you are now the detective.
If there's any way
that I could help.
It is a thing of the past.
There's nothing the police can
do that will bring Pierre back.
Some things cannot be undone.
- Ah.
- Voilà.
Merci.
- Voilà.
- Merci, merci!
Bon appetit.
Does Anatole still give the room
to the artists after closing?
- Yes.
- Ah.
(whispers)
It's not the same as it was.
(accordion music)
Ah, Pierre, mon amour.
PIERRE: Veronique, je t'aime.
MAN: Ah, the cognac!
Ah, Rene,
we thought you were not coming!
Mon ami!
My new model,
Mademoiselle Phryne.
PIERRE: Tu approuves?
RENE: What treasure is this?
Rene Dubois, at your service,
mademoiselle.
Quite lovely, isn't it?
Mm.
Very. The way her...
- Hello.
- Dot!
Hugh.
Er...
You said you wanted to go
to the pictures tonight.
What, tonight?
I...
don't think I can.
It's your favorite. The Sheik.
Oh.
But I have sewing and baking
to do for the fete.
Well, I thought ice cream
at Kerby's
and then maybe a walk
along the pier afterwards.
I can't, Hugh.
I've got a headache.
I think I should take a powder
and have a quiet night.
Maybe tomorrow night, then.
Maybe.
I hope you feel better.
Thank you for the tea,
Mr Butler.
What is it, Dorothy?
I was down at the church helping
to organize for the fete,
and Father Grogan
made me go to confession.
Made you?
It's been a while.
He said he's tried
to be understanding
ever since I started
working for Miss Fisher.
Like when I pretended to be
in the family way
to help catch Butcher George
or when I helped the Latvians
with the bank robbery.
You were taken hostage
at the time.
But he says he draws the line
at...
What?
Kissing a Protestant.
He said
I'm not to see Hugh again.
Oh dear.
Thommo, you alright, mate?
(whispers) Right as rain.
- What?
- He said right as rain.
Sure you are.
(coughs)
I'll get you some water.
Nurse...
Nurse!
I'm sorry.
There's plenty of room. You're
more than welcome to stay.
Merci, non. You have been
more than generous.
But I am tired.
Such a good lunch.
At least let me
give you a lift home.
The Seascape Hotel
is not so far from here.
The walk will do me good.
In Paris, I walk everywhere.
You'd tell me if there was
anything I could do to help you?
Of course.
And you will come back
for dinner?
I look forward to that.
Ah, merci beaucoup.
You will never know
how much this means.
You were always
his favorite model.
Beautiful on the outside
and the inside.
Au revoir.
(accordion music)
Ah, carotte?
Oui.
Parfait.
Voilà!
(applause)
Rene,
you waste your talent.
This Dadaism
is just empty parody.
There can be no brave new world
if there is no brave new art.
Well, if this is the new art,
then I will happily remain
in the Dark Ages.
A dinosaur, that is you,
mon ami. Mwah!
(both laugh)
It's a crime
wasting a beautiful body
like this black cat
on the likes of you.
And you, Monsieur Rene,
what would you do with my body?
I think you are so brave, miss,
to stand in a room full of men
with no clothes.
I didn't have two centimes
to rub together after the war.
My ambulance unit
had been disbanded,
my family had no idea
where to send me money.
And it was exhilarating.
But you were all alone
in a foreign country.
Weren't you scared?
I don't think I was sensible
enough to be scared.
I'll let Mr Butler know he'll
need to buy that duck after all.
BUTLER:
Sorry to disturb you, miss.
Mr Johnson and Mr Yates
would like a word.
What's this?
I've got another couple of quid
too.
I want to hire you,
same as anybody else would.
I suggested we call
in the professional.
My money's
as good as any toff's.
I'm at your service, Bert.
And there is no question
of me charging you.
It will be my honor to help.
So you think
this Hector Chambers
is responsible
for your friend's death?
The baker saw the Rolls
just after
it collected Mr Birmingham.
The driver then continued on
round the next corner,
drove on the wrong side
of the road...
Not a lot of crime out there
today?
Ah, Miss Fisher.
I was wondering when Bert would
wheel in the heavy artillery.
Bert is naturally keen to see
some movement
in this tragic matter.
And as movement in copper speak
means slower than a wet week...
Mr Chambers claims his car
was stolen, Bert.
Stolen my ar...Aunt Mary.
We're trying to recreate
the scene of the crime.
So I see. Yours?
They're my... It's my nephew's.
And if you can please not touch.
(makes sound of car)
Beep beep!
Looks like the driver's
had a few too many sherries.
Can't have been Hector Chambers,
then.
- Why?
- He doesn't drink.
His preferred vice
is cheap cigars.
- What are these?
- Collisions.
As I was saying, the driver
then clipped the milk truck,
drove over the bollard
and drove off.
Must have done some damage.
And left a lot
of bloody evidence.
He's hit the milk truck here
and then continued
over the bollard there.
The local constables
were all over this.
They found the glass
from the broken headlamp?
It's all in the report.
- They noticed the engine oil?
- Er...
And if he's done his sump,
he wouldn't get far.
Could've knocked the plug loose.
Wouldn't come out right away.
- Up the street a bit maybe.
- Just...
How far exactly
did these constables look?
I...
Just...
- Here's some more oil.
- Not a lot left.
Sump'd be running dry
by this time.
Can't be much further.
Engine would've seized up.
Just what we need,
an amateur detective on the job.
With us professionals?
CEC: Nothing.
It didn't vanish
off the face of the earth.
I suspect not, Bert. (sniffs)
Should we add psychic powers
to your already considerable
list of accomplishments?
No, just an exceptionally good
sense of smell.
You mentioned something
about cheap cigars.
Chambers.
- Get back.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I'd prefer you not to let all
of Fitzroy know we're here.
You got a better idea?
Yeah. You two ladies
stay here with Miss Fisher.
She won't be going anywhere,
not in that skirt.
Keep your shirts on, gentlemen.
No need for anyone
to miss out on the fun.
(man whistles)
JACK: Morning, sir.
Lovely car.
Had a bit of a bingle, did we?
Where's Chambers?
- Hey!
- Who?
Give me that, you idiot!
- Hector Chambers.
- Never heard of him.
But you just
happen to have his car.
I come home from my shift,
there she was in the laneway.
Only thing missing was the
wrapping paper and gift card.
I found her, right?
Not a word of a lie.
Problem is, this car was used
in a hit-and-run incident.
- A man was killed.
- Bloody hell.
Well, no wonder he scarpered.
- Who, the driver?
- Yeah.
Can you describe him?
So high. Hat, jacket.
- Is this the man?
- That don't look like him.
The other bloke, though,
he was erm...
- Er, foreign-looking?
- Yeah. Yeah, that's it.
Looks like Hector Chambers
was telling the truth.
Well, there's a turn-up
for the books.
But let's do
a thorough check of the car.
The church fete?
Father Grogan is determined
to make more money than
St Christopher's this year.
Two more nut loaves.
I think he has a wager on it.
I thought gambling was a sin.
Well, I hope he appreciates
all your efforts,
sewing, baking,
especially given his lack
of understanding
about Hugh being a Protestant.
Father Grogan says
he's merely God's messenger.
There must be something
you can do to convince him
that stepping out
with a nice young man
like Hugh Collins isn't a sin.
What would Miss Fisher do?
She'd probably
make a big donation
or pull a gun on him.
Though I don't think
either of those things
would even budge my priest.
You're a woman with influence,
Dorothy.
- Though you may not realize it.
- How?
Well, you're crucial
to the success of the fete.
If, for some reason,
you decided not to fulfill
your commitments to the church,
then I suspect you,
along with your handicrafts,
and mending and baking,
would be sorely missed.
I would.
But isn't that...blackmail?
Oh, Miss Fisher
wouldn't see it like that.
It'd be calling his bluff.
Shall I keep the confit
de canard warm, miss?
I'm sure it will be just as
delicious tomorrow, Mr Butler.
But it does seem
that Madame Sarcelle
will not be making
an appearance.
Is that the Seascape Hotel?
I'd like to speak with one
of your guests, Madame Sarcelle?
S-A-R-C-E-L-L-E.
It's French.
Could you please check again?
You have no idea
where she might be staying?
No, but wherever it is,
I suspect
she's fallen on hard times.
Not going
to stay for another cocoa?
Got some nosing around to do.
Since the coppers
aren't up for much.
Chambers' story
about his car being stolen
seems to hold water.
Isn't it possible
that someone else
had something against
your Thommo?
It was Chambers. Dead cert.
Yeah, and if it wasn't him
behind the wheel,
it was one of his cronies.
Thanks for the cocoa.
Thanks, miss.
You think
they're wasting their time?
It doesn't add up, Dot.
A career criminal like Chambers
doesn't seem the type
to run over one of his punters
in a fit of pique.
There's some other angle
to this.
(clattering)
Stay here.
- PHRYNE: Argh!
- MAN: Argh!
(both groan)
PHRYNE: Mr Butler! Help!
He had a car parked in the lane.
I'll telephone the police.
No, Mr Butler,
it can wait till morning.
But what if he returns?
He won't.
He got what he was after.
There's only one
French-bound vessel
due to sail from Melbourne
in the next month
and there's no Sarcelle
on the passenger list.
JACK: At least she won't be
leaving the country in a hurry.
I do know when she arrived in
Melbourne, if that's any help.
It was only ten days ago
on the Empress of Australia.
Apparently there was a passenger
named Sarcelle
who spent the entire voyage
in the sick bay.
She was traveling
with her husband.
Husband?
She never remarried.
So we're looking
for an accomplice.
Ron, open up!
Ronnie! Ronnie!
Ronnie, no!
There's nothing else
that you could have done, Bert.
Thank God you're safe.
Ronnie's bed was on fire.
I did my best to get to him.
I could see him there.
Even at the last,
he was waving me to get back.
But I couldn't help him.
This doesn't make...
So you finished the war
in France?
BERT: Demobbed in Paris.
Took their bloody time
getting us home.
Not that I'm complaining.
There are worse cities
to kill time.
Should have seen it.
Just wall-to-wall diggers.
Making more noise than a flock
of cockies at sunset.
Drunk cockies at that!
Ronnie was always the one
to drag us out sightseeing.
Only sight you saw
was the bottom of a glass.
Used to come stumbling
back to the station
at the crack of dawn.
Station? What station?
Don't know. What was the name
of the one we left from?
MEN SING: ♪ Mademoiselle from
Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪
♪ Mademoiselle from
Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪
♪ Mademoiselle from Mont... ♪
- Mont...
- Montparnasse.
♪ ..from Montparnasse ♪
(whistle)
He dropped a painting.
We handed it in.
I thought it was next
to the article
about repairs
to the Eiffel Tower but...
Ah. Voila.
"French police have reopened
the case into the death
of well-known artist
Pierre Sarcelle
nearly ten years after
he was pushed under a train
at Montparnasse Station
in January 1919."
(whistle)
Argh!
♪ Mademoiselle from
Montparnasse, parlez vous ♪
"It is believed his killer
was attempting to steal
Sarcelle's last painting."
(whistle)
"Woman With Peignoir."
It must be him.
Who else would kill
for that painting?
PIERRE:
Arch your neck, if you please.
Good. Good.
Good, good.
- Let's go!
- VERONIQUE: Rene!
- On y va!
- (Veronique sighs)
I told you
I was working tonight.
And I told you no more.
C'est fini!
- Rene! Are you mad?
- Rene, please, no trouble.
I'm coming.
You are the only one who
understands me,
ma chat noir.
"The police
are making every effort
to assist to find
three Australian soldiers
who may be able
to assist with enquiries."
PHRYNE: They're looking for Bert
and his friends.
Rene got to two of them first.
Rene? Rene Dubois?
To silence the men
who saw him kill Pierre.
Yes, miss. Sir, it's Miss Fisher
on the telephone.
Please explain to her
I'm not at her...
She said it's an emergency.
She thinks Bert is in danger.
Miss Fisher?
Wait, please, slow down.
And did the barman at the Flora
say where Bert was heading?
I'll be right there.
Six, seven, eight.
- To Ronnie.
14, 15, 16.
Thank heavens!
GIRL: 31, 32.
Bert!
(girl screams)
(whistle)
You're not going anywhere.
I'm not about
to be frightened off
by some froggy
with a peashooter.
But you are about to lay low
for a while,
well out of harm's way.
For me, Bert.
Please.
CEC:
I'll keep an eye on him, miss.
I suppose the cab
could do with a wash.
Thank you, Bert.
I appreciate it.
Miss.
Thank you very much. Goodbye.
Turns out the French authorities
did send a letter to the army.
It sat on a second lieutenant's
desk for a month,
then moved to a major's desk,
then finally to a brigadier's.
The wheels of international
justice turn slowly.
I suspect Bert would have been
contacted
before the century was out.
Le ce ne...
I'm afraid my French
isn't quite what it should be.
Bert and his mates
were at Montparnasse Station
when Rene pushed
Pierre Sarcelle under a train.
Now Rene's here to make sure no
one speaks with the gendarmes.
So he comes to the other end
of the earth
to track down the witnesses?
Then steal a painting or two
while he's here?
Rene is an opportunist.
Any other ideas
as to how we track him down?
Apart from Veronique,
I have no idea who else
he might be in contact with.
There is one person
we know he had dealings with.
JACK: How did Dubois
get in contact with you?
The traditional way. He came
up to me, started talking.
What did he want?
And you are?
I'm the woman who'll make
you suffer, and suffer dearly,
if you don't start talking.
We're dealing with not one
but two suspicious deaths.
Nothing to do with me.
I can smell an accessory
to murder charge in the wind.
Look, he must have seen
Birmingham clock me, OK?
He sidled over
and he bought me a drink,
and then he told me
how I should get even.
Then he offered me £500.
For?
To knock 'em off.
What, the three of them?
Mm.
Thought he was having me on
but he didn't seem
the joking sort.
So what did you say?
I told him
I'd have to think about it.
£500 don't seem like a lot
for a hanging offence.
You thought you could get
the price up?
I was stalling him.
He said he had a valuable piece
of art to sell
and if I helped him move it on,
I'd get a piece of the pie.
I said I'd get back to him
if I was interested.
How?
He gave me the card for some
hotel he was staying at.
He said he'd be there
for the rest of the week.
Here it is.
The Seascape Hotel.
Veronique was there
the whole time
but under the name of Dubois.
- Open the door!
- Veronique! Ouvrez la porte!
- Right.
- Sir, wait, wait!
Out of the way.
Veronique!
Mon Dieu.
(coughs)
What has he done to you?
I am so ashamed.
After Pierre died,
I was so lost,
and Rene, at first, was...
Charm itself.
For a short while, oui.
Now he has taken his bags
and left me for dead.
No need to explain.
Do you know where he is?
No.
Rene killed Pierre.
No.
And now he's here
to kill the witnesses.
And you,
you are not safe either.
What did I ever do to Rene?
You broke his heart.
And for that,
he want to kill you.
You are mine.
You understand? Mine!
Not Sarcelle's!
Or anybody's.
Mine.
Body...
Mind...
And soul.
Argh!
You are not afraid?
He's the one
who ought to be afraid.
JACK: Miss Fisher's
come up with a plan
to get you out of the cells.
- You gonna post bail?
- Better than that.
I'm all ears.
I want you to get word
to Dubois.
Tell him you know someone
who can sell that painting.
Why would I do that?
I thought you wanted
some fresh air, Hector.
But it's easy enough to keep you
locked up indefinitely.
Tell him you'll meet him at Cafe
Replique this afternoon at 3pm.
So I'm the sacrificial goat
in all of this, eh?
Eh? Is that it?
And a charming little goat
you are too.
Pour monsieur,
escargots avec garlic butter.
Bon appetit.
To think I managed
to avoid snails the entire time
I was posted in France.
Mm.
Not bad.
Like buttered pieces
of India rubber.
(cork pops)
The room is full of police.
You couldn't be more safe.
Just what we need.
JACK: Who invited the comrades?
PHRYNE:
They must have followed us.
They'll ruin everything.
Phryne, no.
Dubois could be here any minute.
Here. Sit here.
I'll keep an eye out for him.
Monsieur?
I don't feel I have your
full attention, Miss Fisher.
Eyes front. Phryne.
Phryne!
Long time no see.
This is from Thommo and Ronnie.
Bert, no!
Police! Out of the way!
Argh!
My Phryne.
It has been too long, no?
Ah!
No!
Drop it, monsieur.
Stay back, Jack!
You would not shoot me.
(gun clicks)
I'm not afraid of you.
(woman gasps)
(cries)
(groans)
JACK: Are you alright?
I believe I am.
How was church, Dorothy?
Wonderful.
- And the headache?
- Gone, completely.
Clothing, crafts, cakes,
all delivered?
After I had a chat
with Father Grogan.
Was it a profitable chat?
I told him
I was thinking of converting.
Very nice, Dorothy.
And what did Father Grogan
say to that?
Well, he says he thinks I should
bide my time with my Protestant.
Perhaps he will follow
God's shining beacon
to the Catholic church.
Oh! Wonderful news.
And where will
you be biding your time tonight?
Hugh's taking me
to the pictures.
Oh, you should
take this along with you.
Miss Fisher wanted
Constable Collins to have it.
For his nephew.
Er...
This is certainly
a well-travelled work of art.
A little like me.
Thank you
for helping to retrieve it.
You're blushing.
I'm a grown man, Miss Fisher.
I'm not likely to blush at the
sight of a little bare flesh.
That's what surprises me,
Detective Inspector.
In fact, lately,
you're full of surprises.
It's all part of the job.
I have to get back
to the station.
Excuse me.
Goodnight, then.
JACK: Night.