(suspenseful music) (Mr. Andrews groans) (birds chirping) (suspenseful music continues) - Alice.

Alice!

(suspenseful music continues) (Mr. Andrews groaning) - You don't understand, Dot.

(Mr. Andrews groaning) You don't understand at all.

(paper rustling) (suspenseful music continues) - Lydia!

(upbeat jazz music) (upbeat jazz music continues) (upbeat jazz music continues) (upbeat jazz music continues) (boat horn blowing) (upbeat jazz music continues) (all chattering) (horse neighing) - If it isn't the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher!

About time!

- How are the Antipodes?

- They've missed you desperately.

- So they damn well should.

- Oh, traveling light again.

- Has to be some advantage to a sea voyage, otherwise I would have joined the Avro air race.

- Paper!

Paper!

(horn honks) - What are your intentions?

You've had three months at sea to ponder.

- Well, I intend to leave my family as far behind as possible.

- I think you've managed that.

Next?

- Well, I could learn Abyssinian, or perfect my barefoot dancing.

- We both know why you're here.

Darling, you can't bring Janey back.

(hand knocking on door) - But I can stop him doing it again.

Premier Hogan is a regular guest of this establishment.

- Straight to the top, then.

- Miss Fisher?

- Thank you.

(door closes) A luncheon, today, with Lydia Andrews.

How lovely.

Oh, and Aunt Prudence.

- Shame I have to perform an urgent bowel operation.

(suspenseful music) (suspenseful music continues) - Miss Phryne Fisher to see Mrs. Lydia Andrews.

She's expecting me.

- Sorry, Miss Fisher.

(sniffles) The lunch has been canceled due to a family tragedy.

- What kind of tragedy?

- [Dot] Mr. Andrews passed away this morning.

(sniffles) - Oh, Phryne, I'm so glad you're here.

I've missed you so badly.

- I'm so sorry for you.

- How awful this all is.

- It's all right.

- Oh!

- If there's anything I can do.

- He just collapsed.

We, we thought it was his heart, but then the police have been here all morning.

Poor, darling man.

Tea.

We need tea.

- Oh.

- Aunt Prudence.

- Phryne.

Dear.

(sighs) I would hardly recognize the child in you, apart from the length of your skirt.

- Whereas you haven't changed one jot, Aunt Prudence.

- Smooth passage?

- So far.

(footsteps thudding) Have you seen a doctor?

You look terribly pale.

- I felt dreadful, even before John collapsed, as if I knew something was coming.

- Excuse me, madam.

That detective wants to speak with you again.

(Prudence sighing) - So, what on earth happened?

- Now, you know I'm not one to pry, but I couldn't help overhearing in the hallway, it seems that John collapsed suddenly after a light breakfast of tea and kumquat marmalade toast, and the maid found him purple in the face and cold to the touch on the bathroom floor.

- The police obviously suspect his death had a helping hand.

(footsteps thudding) - I'm sorry.

The inspector would like all visitors to leave so that he may question the household.

- Very well.

Excuse me.

(suspenseful music) (suspenseful music continues) - Uh, excuse me, miss.

You... - Ta.

- Uh, excuse me, miss!

You can't, oh!

- I just need the powder room.

- No.

I'm sorry.

But my instructions are no one's to pass this point.

- I understand perfectly.

Though, my bladder may not.

- I'll just, I'll just check with the inspector.

Just... (suspenseful orchestral music) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (hand knocking on door) - This lavatory is fully occupied!

- [Jack] Police.

Open up.

(hand knocking on door) - You must be the inspector.

Apologies for my urgent call of nature.

- This is the scene of a crime.

- Well, lucky for you, I'm wearing gloves.

Miss Phryne Fisher.

- I assume you weren't close to the deceased.

- Never had the pleasure, but by all accounts, he was charming.

Do you think it was poison?

- Most likely, but- - We are yet to determine the cause of death.

Miss Fisher, I appreciate your curiosity for crime.

- Well, every lady needs a hobby.

- But please- - Given the lack of bloodstains, I assume it wasn't a violent death, unless, of course, it was strangulation.

But the fetal position of the victim outline, although not terribly well executed, indicates a degree of pain rather than the flailing limbs one might associate with a struggle.

Then, of course, there's the fact that death occurred after breakfast, according to Mrs. Andrews, which suggests something ingested, all wild surmise, of course.

- Of course.

Now- - Do you have a card?

In case I need to call the police.

Because, I'm a woman alone, newly arrived in a dangerous town.

- I plan to make this town less dangerous, Miss Fisher.

- Good.

I do like a man with a plan, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

(hinges squeak) (suspenseful orchestral music) - Taxi!

(brakes squeal) Richmond.

She'll give you the address.

Keep the change.

- Where do you live, sweetheart?

Hey, wakey, wakey.

- Wake up, love.

- Oh, no, Bert.

- She's bleedin' all over me bleedin' upholstery.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (telephone ringing) - [Lydia] Telephone, Dot!

(telephone ringing continues) Dorothy!

- Sorry, madam.

The caller stopped calling.

- [Prudence] Let me know if I can help with the funeral arrangements.

- [Lydia] Oh, thank you.

- I can highly recommend the people who laid out Edward.

- Lydia.

- Sasha.

- I, I heard the terrible news.

Oh, apologies, Mrs. Stanley.

My manners, they have deserted me.

- Oh, quite all right, Sasha.

We're all distraught.

May I present my niece, the Honorable Miss Fisher?

- [Phryne] Pleased to meet you.

- Enchanté.

- My God, the soiree.

- Oh!

- Lydia has planned a charity soiree for tomorrow evening.

Sasha is engaged to dance for us.

- Yes, but now I- - No, everything must be canceled, of course.

If only the Hospital Committee weren't absolutely depending on it.

- Tell them Lydia's just been widowed.

- If only she weren't so good at raising thousands of pounds.

And goodness knows how we're to contact the guest list in time.

- Her guests will understand.

- (sighing) John would want us to go ahead with it.

- I know.

Phryne and I will take over all the arrangements and host the entire evening on your behalf.

Won't we, Phryne?

- Thank you, Prudence.

I feel so... - Oh, my, Lydia.

- Maid!

What's her name?

Maid!

- Lydia!

- Get her to bed.

I'm going to call a doctor.

- Please, Lydia.

- Attend to her at once.

Goodness.

- You said the husband was fatally poisoned at breakfast?

- Well, that's one theory.

Do you think Lydia could have been slipped something, too?

- Headache, palpitations, vomiting, and you said she looked a little blotchy.

- [Phryne] Mm.

- Could be caused by anything.

- Including Aunt Prudence.

Medicinal?

- As it comes, thank you.

And the old favorite's arsenic, of course, but half a grain of strychnine will do the trick.

- I found these in the bathroom cabinet.

- Mm.

It looks like a nerve powder.

Usually prescribed for women, of course, the hysterical sex, for nervous exhaustion, emotional collapse, wandering wombs, that sort of thing.

- Why on earth would a womb wander?

- Unnatural behavior will do it, according to Hippocrates, like celibacy.

- Oh, good.

Mine's not going anywhere.

(hand knocking on door) - Mm.

- Excuse me.

Dr. MacMillan?

The Women's Hospital telephoned.

They need you urgently.

- [Dr. MacMillan] Where's the patient, Sister?

- I've put her in Maternity.

These two gentlemen picked her up in their cab.

Good thing you came straight here, by the sound of it.

- [Bert] Will she be all right?

- Uh, no men in the wards.

Thank you.

(Alice breathing heavily) - Some amateur's tried to take away her troubles.

- She's just a child.

- Got herself into some grown-up trouble, though.

- I'm sure Dr. MacMillan will do her best.

How much to the Windsor?

- Five shillings should do it.

- Nice try.

I'm prepared to pay you two and six.

- Reckon it was that bloke we saw?

- What?

There was someone with her?

- Just some dumb egg told to get shot of her.

- No, no.

The other joker, 'round the corner.

He's a lofty beggar, around six foot, I reckon.

And something flashed in his paw as he tugged his hat down, maybe a, a ring on his finger or something?

- (sighing) Forget the Windsor.

We need the police.

And I've just met a rather civilized detective.

- You and your strays.

Lost cats, injured mongrels, and now it's fallen bloody women.

- Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South Police Station.

- Yeah, we know him.

That's him.

- [Collins] George Fletcher.

- "Butcher George"?

- That's the one.

- Miss Fisher.

And if it isn't the red-raggers.

Still fighting the capitalist menace?

- Your time will come, oppressor of the widow and orphan.

- I hate to interrupt the class war, but who is Butcher George?

- George Fletcher was a doctor, once upon a time.

But now we suspect he's behind a local abortion racket.

- If you know so much about him, why haven't you arrested him?

- If you delivered him tied up in brown paper and string, I still couldn't arrest him.

The ones who die can't talk, and the ones who live won't talk.

- What's the penalty for procuring an abortion?

- 10 to 15 years, according to the book.

- Well, who's going to open their trap for that?

Lenin made Soviet abortion legal in 1920.

- I'm going back to the hospital.

- Wish I could change the laws for you, Miss Fisher.

- You can't?

Fine.

I'll just have to find a way around them.

Good day, Inspector.

(hinges squeak) (suspenseful orchestral music) - [Children] B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y.

(laughing) (door slamming) ♪ Two, four, six ♪ ♪ Not because dirty, not because I'm clean ♪ ♪ Just because they saw some red behind the window scene ♪ ♪ Girls, girls have a lot of fun ♪ ♪ Here comes Phryne with ♪ - [Phryne] Don't, Janey!

(laughing) (door clangs) (footsteps thudding) (suspenseful orchestral music) (chains clanging) - Should I know you?

- [Phryne] My sister's ribbon.

- Miss Fisher, is it still "Miss"?

I'm deeply sorry I couldn't tell your family what you needed to know.

- Then tell me now.

- I have never confessed to the crime you want me to be guilty of.

And my time here is nearly up.

- And here I am.

I've come halfway around the world to make sure that you never get out of here alive.

- Death is only a torment for those who believe it is the end of all things.

- I'm not a child anymore, Mr. Foyle, so I won't play your lofty games.

Whatever horrors you visited on her, I have imagined tenfold.

And given the chance, I would do the same to you without smearing my lipstick.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (keys jingling) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (person coughing) (footsteps thudding) Has she given you any details about what happened?

- They never do.

They either fell down the stairs or claim to be completely mystified.

This one's not even offering her name.

- No clues in her purse?

- You don't have to save the world, Phryne.

- Where are her things?

(dramatic orchestral music) (Phryne sighs) (dramatic orchestral music continues) (dramatic orchestral music continues) "I would wholeheartedly recommend Miss Hartley."

(dramatic orchestral music continues) John Andrews.

(upbeat jazz music) (all chattering) (upbeat jazz music continues) I smuggled this upstairs.

I recommend you swallow at least a bucketful.

- Oh, sorry, miss.

(Phryne smooches) - You seem to be coping better than your maid.

Aunt Prudence said you had to let the last one go.

- Oh, yes.

It was unpleasant, but trivial.

- What, trouble with the telephone, like this one?

- John caught her stealing the silver cruet set, and I agreed he should dismiss her.

- Do you think she'd have any information about the household that might help the police?

- Unlikely.

Alice was a timid thing, and she went quietly enough.

- Drink up.

(upbeat jazz music continues) (all chattering) - Phryne, darling!

Oh, you look divine.

And I've found you a charming dental technician.

- Very thoughtful.

- I do appreciate you weren't born to wealth.

At least your mother came from good stock.

It's just unfortunate she ran off with your father.

- Lucky, then, the Great War laid waste to his titled cousins.

- Yes.

Well, no one likes a war.

- Do you think anyone here would want to harm Lydia or her husband?

- Don't be absurd!

You're looking at the cream of Melbourne society, apart from Clementine Smythe over there.

She snaffled Lydia's upholsterer just when she needed him most.

And Tilda Higginbottom, by the punch, as usual.

But that one, She takes the biscuit.

Practically runs a bordello.

- Hello there, Prudence.

- [Prudence] Madame Breda.

(chuckles) May I present my niece, the Honorable Phryne Fisher?

- How do you do?

- Madame Breda.

Madame Breda has a little establishment at the far end of the city.

- A Turkish bath palace, Miss Fisher.

- How interesting.

I've been a devoted patron of the London Hamam.

You should try it, Aunt Prudence.

- (chuckles) No, thank you, my dear.

I shall remain all the cleaner for staying away.

(chuckles) Excuse me.

- Terrible news about John Andrews.

I've been a loyal customer of his for years.

- What line of business was he in?

- Importing from the Orient, cosmetics, Manchester, the most beautiful rugs.

He adored Lydia, though he had less time for her endless social events and her more colorful friends.

- Like who?

- Like the adorable Sasha de Lisse.

(upbeat jazz music continues) (Sasha speaking foreign language) - Now I recall.

I saw you dancing in Paris five years ago with your sister.

(Sasha chuckles) "Death and the Maiden."

It was primitive and spine-chilling.

- My sister, unfortunately, passed away some months ago.

- My condolences.

- I am still unused to dancing without her.

Do you tango, Miss Fisher?

- [Person] Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Sasha de Lisse.

(mid-tempo tango music) (mid-tempo tango music continues) (mid-tempo tango music continues) (mid-tempo tango music continues) - We've been trying to reach Mrs. Andrews, but something seems to be wrong with your telephone.

(mid-tempo tango music continues) (audience applauding) - [Dot] Excuse me, madam.

- Yes?

- The, um, police need to speak with Mrs. Andrews again.

Should I call her down?

- Poison?

- The coroner found traces of arsenic when he examined your husband, and your own symptoms seem to be consistent with a milder dose.

- Do you know where it came from?

- The sugar bowl with the breakfast tray was laced with rat poison.

- John always took so much sugar in his tea.

Thank God I didn't finish my own.

- We've been informed your housemaid prepares the morning tray.

- [Lydia] That's correct.

- We'll need to ask Miss Williams a few questions at the station.

- You don't seriously suspect this poor child of murder?

- Actually, I was studiously avoiding that term, Miss Fisher.

- If you find yourself in legal trouble, I know a clever woman who might help.

- Thank you, miss.

(footsteps thudding) - I can't imagine what grudge that poor girl could have against us.

(engine rumbling) - I hope we have the pleasure to meet again, Miss Fisher.

- I'm sure that can be arranged.

(Sasha speaking foreign language) - Lydia seems calmer now.

If only this awful poisoning business was resolved, she could busy herself with the wake.

- Yes.

That could cheer her up.

My earrings!

That man was far too charming.

- What's the hurry?

My driver's on his way.

- I'll explain later.

Good night, Aunt Prudence.

- At this hour?

It's not safe!

Why do you think you can just run off on your own?

- Because I'm carrying a gun.

- (gasps) Phryne!

(suspenseful orchestral music) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) - Good evening.

I need to buy cocaine.

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) (bell chimes) (people chattering indistinctly) Get away, I warn you!

Get back!

- He's got a blade.

- Steady, steady, steady on.

Where's your gun?

Go on.

Give him a fright!

- All right, all right.

- [Person] Hey, hold up!

(suspenseful orchestral music) (objects clattering) Bloody bean shooter.

Come on!

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) (gun firing) (dog barking in distance) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) - No.

It is me, Sasha.

(speaking foreign language) Help me.

(Phryne breathing heavily) - [Person] He's got to around here somewhere!

- [Phryne] In here.

Not a sound.

Down.

(men shouting in distance) - [Person] Come on!

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) - Evening, gentlemen.

Looking for a frolic?

(lighter clicking) - Yeah.

We're looking for a fella.

Seen a man running through here?

- No, but I seen plenty lying down.

- Come on.

This scrag's no use.

- How much, darlin'?

- (scoffs) Depends, sweetheart.

Show us your tackle.

(hand tapping) - [Person] Put it away.

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) - The coast is clear.

(Sasha grunts) Sasha!

- I thought the bullet missed me.

- (groans) Wonderful.

You're not badly hurt.

Though you may have ruined one of the most stunning gowns Melbourne will ever see.

Why did you steal my earrings?

- To pay for cocaine.

- It's a dangerous habit if you're gonna be shot in the process.

- You should not assume it is my habit.

My reasons were personal.

- So were my earrings.

What did you say to the pharmacist?

- I asked to meet the King of Snow, the mastermind of the cocaine business in this town.

- Melbourne has certainly become more interesting in my absence.

- Life has been hard since we were forced from Russia, too hard for my sister.

She became addicted to cocaine and lost her way.

She took her own life.

- How awful.

- But Lydia was very good to both of us.

- But I gather her husband was not a ballet enthusiast.

- I never cared for John Andrews.

(Phryne chuckling) You think I was having a love affair with your friend.

It is not true.

She's too demure for my attentions.

Whereas you... (mid-tempo tango music) (mid-tempo tango music continues) (Phryne sighs) (hand knocking on door) - I'm, I'm so sorry, Miss Fisher, but I didn't know where else to go.

I've been dismissed without a reference, and I think I need that clever woman you talked about.

- You'd better come in.

(Dot sniffles) (door closes) - The, um, matching Mary Jane's up there if you're looking, miss.

- Thank you.

My dance instructor was perfecting my developpé.

Now, sit down.

Have some toast.

Tell me everything.

- The police asked me so many questions about Mr. Andrews, it made me giddy, about what kind of gentleman he was, what kind of boss, how he treated us household staff.

- [Phryne] And what did you tell them?

- Well, I couldn't lie.

I'm a Catholic.

I said he was all hands and tried to pin me against the range and have his way in the kitchen the night before he died.

And I told them how he did the same to Alice and how she took off the morning they found him.

Now I'm worried they're going to blame Alice as well.

- Was Alice in the family way to her employer?

To John Andrews?

I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth.

- It was a woman who helped me.

Her name was Madame Breda.

- I've met her.

And where did Madame Breda send you?

- I couldn't tell.

The van had no windows.

But, um, the door off the lane was green, I remember that.

And when I came to, I could smell food, like a bakery.

She said he was a doctor.

(clock ticking) (door closes) - (gasps) Sorry, Miss Fisher.

It was by the bath.

I just- - Not at all.

"Phryne" will do.

- I washed and pressed your clothes, and I mended those stockings for you.

- You have a very fine hand, Dot.

- It's my gift, Miss, Phryne.

I had more trouble getting those bloodstains off that lovely gown, though.

- (gasps) Genius!

- And I found this, under the bed.

- Oh, thank you.

A marvelous device invented by a thoroughly modern woman called Marie Stopes.

Family planning.

I could do with a maid.

Though, uh, you'll probably want your old position back once this fuss has blown over and Mrs. Andrews is back to her old self.

- No, not for all the tea in China.

Even without Mr. Andrews, there's still the electric iron to worry about and the vacuum cleaner, and the new washing machine.

- Don't they save you labor?

- Yes, but at what cost, miss?

My priest says it's unnatural putting electricity through wires.

Sooner or later, it'll come in contact with the molten center of the earth and will blow up the whole world.

- Well, if you work for me, you'll have to answer the telephone promptly.

And I might need you, on occasion, to bend the Ten Commandments.

- Um, like when?

- Today.

And how important is the telephone?

- Extremely.

Now, get your coat.

We're off to the Turkish baths.

(gentle orchestral music) (hand knocking on door) - Come in.

(door clicking) - Madame Breda, do you remember me?

- You're Lydia's maid, aren't you?

- I need your help.

I know you helped Alice, and- - Oh, not you, too.

John Andrews?

- [Lydia] Thank you for drawing me out of the house.

I feel so much better here.

- Lydia, how much did you know about your husband's business dealings?

- Not enough.

I've never had a head for figures.

But I may have to take over the reins, all the same.

- Do you think the attempt on your lives could have something to do with a retaliation, after a falling-out with a customer?

- I don't know what you mean.

- Could John have gotten mixed up in some business dealings you weren't aware of?

(tea pouring) Did he tell you everything?

- I loved John, Phryne.

His death has left me bereft.

I'm not ready yet to pick over his bones.

- Of course not.

(lid rattles) - No.

Just black for me.

- Of course.

(hooves clopping) - Here she comes.

- I had to miss my second pummeling, so I hope you've got something to report.

- She made me pay 10 pounds and said to give this to the doctor.

She said not to open it and that I, that I have to meet them on the corner of the laneway near Johnson's Hatters at seven in the morning, wearing a red rose.

- Sounds risky.

- Well, if someone hadn't done away with John Andrews, it could have been me in that hospital.

It's the very least I can do for Alice.

- Now all we need is a red rose.

It's packaged exactly the same way as the Paterson's Powders I souvenired from Lydia's bathroom.

- The pink's only a vegetable dye with a nerve powder.

It's most likely a narcotic base, like opium, or a stimulant, like cocaine.

- Is it legal like that?

- Not from a Turkish bathhouse.

You need a doctor's prescription.

- If Madame Breda's using it to pay off unsavory types, then my bet is cocaine.

(clock ticking) Definitely cocaine.

- I'm the doctor.

- Just to make sure.

- What has all this to do with Butcher George and backyard abortions?

- I'm not sure yet, Mac.

But I think it's time somebody found out.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (children shouting in distance) (engine rumbling) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) - Open up.

Oh yes.

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) - Give them a head start.

(engine cranking) (engine sputters) - They'll get a ruddy head start, all right.

(engine cranking) - Remind me to buy you a new taxi when this is over.

(engine turns over) - Eureka!

(engine rumbling) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) - [Phryne] Stop!

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) - [Person] Come on.

Come on.

- [Phryne] Proctors Pies!

Alice said she smelled baking!

Turn down there!

(engine revs) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (footsteps thudding) (door opens) - Hello there, girlie.

My name's Dr. George.

I'll be relieving you of your little burden.

(metal clatters) (suspenseful orchestral music) - [Bert] There's the van.

- Hurry.

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) We're looking for a green door.

- Come on, love.

It's only nerves, hmm?

- No, it's not.

Just leave me- - You've got the collywobbles.

I've seen it all before.

Come on.

Up on the table.

Let's lie down good and quiet, hmm?

- Damn it.

Where the hell have they gone?

- Let's see how far gone you are.

- No!

- Easy!

- (crying) I'm not far gone.

I'm not even gone at all.

- What's your caper?

- It's got to be close.

- Over here.

I'll take this side.

- [George] Syd!

Give us a hand.

- No!

Please!

(suspenseful orchestral music continues) - [Phryne] Nothing.

Oh, Dot!

- [George] This will calm her down.

- Help!

Help me!

- Upstairs!

- [Dot] (Screaming) Help me!

(person groans) - Away from that girl, both of you!

Hands toward heaven.

Up, you idiot.

So you're the animal who took the knife to Alice Hartley?

Cec, what have you got to say to this man?

(punch thudding) My sentiments exactly.

Now all we need is some brown paper and string, and these two gentlemen can deliver you to the police.

But first you're going to tell me exactly how you know Madame Breda.

(clock ticking) - Won't Alice still have to confess?

- Don't worry, Dot.

Cec will help her tell the police that she paid Butcher George the money and then changed her mind but he wouldn't listen.

- Is that what happened?

- More or less.

- That was the most perilous day of my entire life, even worse than being a murder suspect.

But the cocoa helps.

- I'm glad about that, Dot, because you need to be brave a little longer.

- Why?

- You'll be safe enough here, but if I don't return by midnight, you might have to call the police.

- On the telephone?

- I'm afraid so.

Cheerio.

(smooches) (door closes) (electricity crackling) Now, there's a familiar figure.

- You sure about that bloke?

- Not entirely.

French Russian extraction.

We've only met socially.

- I'm definitely not sure about those two.

Bastard extraction.

We've only met up a dark alley.

- They're going into Madame Breda's.

(door closes) Come on.

(footsteps thudding) Up there, the balcony.

We could get over it.

Here.

Hold this.

Give me a leg up.

- Is that all I can do for you?

- You might go for help.

Things could get interesting around here.

- Thought they already were.

(Phryne breathing heavily) (door opens) - Oi!

What's your lark?

Get back here!

(footsteps thudding) (objects clattering) (door clicking) (suspenseful orchestral music) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (door opens) (people chattering indistinctly) (objects clattering) (people shouting indistinctly) - [Sasha] You bastards!

I kill you!

I kill you and your mother!

(grunting) - Don't move.

(suspenseful orchestral music) - You're that tart we met the night we shot this dago in the alley.

- She knows nothing.

Let her go and do what you like with me.

I paid to speak with your boss.

Have you no honor?

- Don't worry, mate.

You'll get your chat with the King.

(laughs) (hinges squeak) (latch clicks) - [Phryne] And what will you do when you meet him?

- Kill him.

- [Phryne] Unless somebody's already beaten you to it.

- What do you mean?

- The drugs are coming in through J.A.

Imports.

It's John Andrews' company.

- So that is what amused those thugs, that I would meet the King in the afterlife?

(latch clicks) (door opens) (suspenseful orchestral music) Lydia?

- They told me he had a floozy.

I didn't think it would be you.

- [Sasha] But how?

- Lydia poisoned her husband after he had his way with her maid.

- It wasn't just his philandering.

- Of course not.

I know you better than that.

And Madame Breda sorted the pregnancy, like she sorted all your other grubby business.

- You helped us.

We danced for all your friends.

- Why did you do it?

- Not all of us did so well out of the war, Phryne.

You inherited a title, but my family lost everything.

And then I met John, and he was wealthy and charming, far too charming.

And in the end, a hopeless businessman and an utter embarrassment.

I rescued us from bankruptcy and disgrace, and I built an empire.

All I wanted was my own life back.

But John wouldn't let me have it.

Judge me if you like, but I saved myself.

- What a shame it took a life of crime for you to find your strength, Lydia.

- Haven't you become a dreary crusader?

I'm sure your demise will fix that.

Strip them.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (clock ticking) (electricity crackling) (door thudding) (steam hissing) - How long can we last in here?

- A lot longer if you stay calm.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (Bert groans) (steam hissing) (suspenseful orchestral music) (door thudding) - Miss Fisher needs you down at the Turkish Baths in Little Lonsdale.

- I hope she's comfortable.

She could be waiting a long time.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (clock ticking) (steam hissing) - Sasha.

Sasha, don't fall asleep.

(suspenseful orchestral music) - I told you, they dragged off this Russian dago, and she went after him.

- Some Commo friend of yours, was he?

- My eyes can't focus in this fog.

(exhales deeply) If the steam is piped in, we just need to pipe it out again.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (metal squeaks) (steam hissing) (suspenseful orchestral music continues) (metal squeaking) (bells chiming) (clock ticking) (suspenseful orchestral music) (phone dialing) (telephone rings) - City South Police Station.

Constable Collins speaking.

Yep.

Inspector!

Sir, uh, it's Miss Williams on the telephone.

She says Miss Fisher's in some kind of trouble.

(suspenseful orchestral music) (siren wailing) (brakes squeal) - Now, you two, take the front and side entrances.

I'll take the rear with Collins and Foster.

Right.

Let's break down this door.

Let's go!

(door thudding) (suspenseful orchestral music) (Phryne breathing heavily) - Sasha.

Sasha, don't fall asleep.

Wake up.

(officers shouting in distance) Glad you could make it, Inspector.

I'm a little more steamed up than I wanted to be.

- Always wondered what went on in a Turkish bathhouse.

(Phryne breathing heavily) (Phryne groans) - Come on, then.

- Oh!

- Tell me how clever you are.

Now, what made you think Lydia Andrews was the murderer?

- Well, firstly, she kept declaring her love for John Andrews, when we all knew he was a cad.

I put that down to marital delusion.

Then, when she protested that she had no head for business, though she raised thousands of pounds for the hospital fund, I tried to put that down as false modesty.

And even when she accused Alice of stealing the cruet set, though I'd read her glowing reference, I had hoped it was the husband's lie.

Of course, the other suspects helped.

There was Madame Breda, but she was too obvious.

And she pointed the finger at Sasha de Lisse.

So I was forced to discount him as Lydia's jealous lover with my own, thorough investigation.

(fingers snapping) Sorry.

Where was I?

Oh, the tea, That's what really bothered me.

She drank just enough sweetened tea to remove suspicion by poisoning herself, when I know she always took her tea without sugar.

- Must get a wriggle on, miss, or you'll be late for Premier Hogan.

- Just a polite chat about the criminal justice system.

♪ I never should ♪ ♪ Play with the gypsies in the wood ♪ ♪ If I did, she would say ♪ (keys jingling) ♪ Naughty little girl to disobey ♪ ♪ My mother said I never should ♪ (door clicking) - Miss, about the job, I don't know what my priest will think of your guns and knives and dancing.

- Considering your last employers were a drug baroness and a rapist, surely he'd find me a modest improvement.

- [Dot] Cec.

- Bert, how lovely.

Sit down and have some champagne.

Inspector Robinson and Constable Collins.

What a lovely surprise!

- Your handbag, Miss Fisher.

And when you're fully hydrated, I'd like a private word.

- Thank you.

But feel free amongst my private friends.

We're celebrating.

- Five minutes after your timely escape from the Turkish Bath Palace, the steam room exploded in a ball of flames due to a backup in the pipes, resulting in an inferno attended by every fire truck in the metropolitan area.

Luckily, there were no fatalities.

- One less bordello?

- This is not a game, Miss Fisher.

- Of course not.

Now raise a glass to my new business.

(up-tempo jazz music) - What kind of business?

- To my oldest friend's newest enterprise, the Honorable Miss Fisher, lady detective.

(Jack coughing) - [Phryne] I do like the sound of that.

(jazz music continues) (upbeat jazz music continues) ♪ Think that's it ♪ (upbeat jazz music continues) ♪ Think that's it ♪ (upbeat jazz music continues) ♪ Think that's it ♪ (upbeat jazz music continues) (gentle orchestral music)