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Reginald.
Anybody there?!
Oh. It's just you, Briggs.
Mr. Chilton? Mr. Chilton!
No. No, please! No!
This was Reginald Chilton.
He was the M.P.P. for Toronto East.
Thank you, Lieutenant Governor.
Poor man. This is a terrible business.
Indeed, Your Honour.
- Dr. Grace. - He has a fractured skull
and a crushed cervical vertebrae.
Either would have been sufficient to kill him.
Injuries consistent with a fall.
Oh, my God. Reginald.
Detective William Murdoch, Toronto Constabulary. You are?
Thaddeus Walsh, Provincial Secretary.
I came as soon as I was called. Reginald was my oldest friend.
Do you know if Mr. Chilton had any reason to take his life?
Absolutely not.
By every measure he was a man of success.
Did he have any enemies?
Name me one politician worth his salt who doesn't.
Would you care to elaborate?
Mr. Chilton was a man who got his way.
I admired him for that; others did not.
I see. Thank you, sir.
Detective, this is Mr. Briggs, the night watchman.
He called the police.
That wasn't all. I seen what done it.
Foul play's at work here.
And not by the likes of you or me.
What do you mean?
It was the work of a ghost.
The Ghost of Queen's Park.
- There's a ghost? - And not just one; several.
Apparitions have been sighted through the halls...
lady ghosts, one and all.
But this one... this one was different from the others.
- How so? - This one was glowing.
It was glowing?
Sir, what time did you see the ghost?
Ten pm.
A dead politician! Well, that'll ruffle a few feathers.
Do you have any leads?
Yes, sir. An eye witness, Mr. Briggs, the night watchman.
- Well, it'll be a short investigation, then. - Not exactly, sir.
Mr. Briggs claims the murderer was a ghost.
A ghost?
Doing in a politician?
I always thought Queen's Park was
full of happy dafties, but this takes the cake.
- Happy dafties? - Crackpots.
Good day, gentlemen.
I've heard about Chilton.
I thought I owed it to your investigation
- to tell you what I know. - And you are?
Samuel Jenkins.
Toronto Gazette?
Press.
I was conducting an investigation into Chilton's dealings.
Have a seat.
You've written about Chilton in the past, if I'm not mistaken?
Yeah. Shame to lose such a rich vein of material.
You know the slaughterhouses off Eastern Avenue, the ones
that dumped their effluent directly into Ashbridge's Bay?
Yes. They nearly caused an outbreak of cholera.
He owned those.
After I exposed them,
he supposedly sold the property and went into politics.
- Supposedly? - In his position
as the province's lands commissioner,
Chilton was pushing the government to purchase
that exact piece of property... for an inflated price.
For the new sewage treatment plant.
Did he still has an interest?
The land is owned by a numbered company.
The address is a post box.
The board of directors is comprised of two Chilton cronies.
What do you think?
Hm.
Did Chilton know you were investigating his affairs?
Oh, yes. In fact, he was suing me
to discourage further scrutiny of his dealings.
I see.
Well, with Chilton's death
you would no longer have to worry about the libel suit.
It was a paper tiger. He would never have proceeded.
A court case would have
allowed me to subpoena documents
to prove that he still held a controlling interest.
Of course, now that he's died
under mysterious circumstances,
that might be something you want to look into.
- I've seen them all. - Oh!
Mr. Briggs.
There's a tall thin one
with streaming hair and a long flowing robe
who wanders the third floor hallways.
And a maiden in a chequered dress
who pulls it up over her head to conceal her face.
But most awful of all is the hanging woman in the basement.
She dangles from a hook,
oozing gloom and sorrow.
Mr. Briggs, the one you saw last night?
Oh, I saw her only in the distance,
glowing with a terrible bluish-green light.
Mr. Briggs, who else was working here last night?
Sometimes the typists in the east wing basement
work late when the house is in session.
Yes, we were working late to finish some reports for Mr. Chilton.
And did either of you notice anything unusual?
Unusual in what way?
Well, Mr. Briggs says
- that Queen's Park is haunted. - It is.
- Hogwash, Marge. You've never seen any ghosts. - Yes, I have.
Well, I haven't actually seen them,
but I felt the presence of a vengeful spirit on the fourth floor.
That was most likely His Right Honourable's secretary.
- Very funny. - I wouldn't put much truck
into what that Mr. Briggs told you.
He isn't quite the full tin of biscuits.
I've seen one. Last night, just as we were leaving. I saw
the ghost of a woman at the end of the hallway.
Was she hanging from a hook?
No, she was glowing.
Sir, I think we may be...
premature in eliminating the supernatural element from this investigation.
At least two people have said they've seen a glowing ghost in recent days.
George, there is absolutely no scientific basis
- for the existence of ghosts. - Yes, sir, but you yourself have said
the absence of evidence is not necessarily the evidence of absence.
You yourself believe in God and heaven for instance.
Neither of which I'm bringing into this investigation.
Yes, sir, but you believe they exist along with an everlasting soul.
- Yes, George. - So, sir, it is my theory
that ghosts are souls that are stranded here
because they have unfinished business.
- Unfinished business? - Yes, sir.
They are not able to pass on,
because they have a loved one in trouble,
or they themselves have been wronged terribly, even murdered.
And the sheer injustice of it
makes it impossible for them to rest in peace.
So, it's your belief, George, that Mr. Chilton was killed
by the ghost of someone he himself murdered?
Or wronged in some way.
Oh. That's a very interesting theory.
- Thank you, sir. - And given unlimited resources
I would happily permit you to follow this line
of inquiry. But as it is, I need you to find out
what Dr. Grace has for us. Thank you.
His occipital bone was crushed
and his neck was broken at the first vertebrae.
So it was the fall that killed him.
Oh, yes. What's interesting is,
given the position of his body,
it seems he went backwards over the balcony.
As if someone... or something, forced him back.
Something?
It's my theory that a vengeful spirit might be responsible.
A ghost?
Now I know what you're thinking, but it's practically
common knowledge that Queen's Park is haunted.
I've heard this.
Yes. And we have a witness that claims to have seen a ghost
last night when Mr. Chilton fell.
Is Detective Murdoch entertaining this possibility?
He can be a tad close-minded about such things.
Still, you shouldn't abandon this avenue of investigation.
You don't think so?
I've been involved in some scientific experiments
entailing metaphysical excursions to the other side.
- Metaphysical excursions? - Yes.
And we've proven that it's possible to enter the portals of the afterlife
without going all the way over.
Emily, this fits my theory exactly-that ghosts
are simply spirits that are not yet ready to pass through those portals.
Then you should pursue this line of inquiry.
I don't know if Detective Murdoch will grant me permission.
Then it may be best to seek forgiveness later than ask permission now.
That journalist, Jenkins, was on to something.
The company holding the Ashbridge's Bay property is
in turn held by another numbered company.
One shell inside another.
Mm. Chilton was both a businessman and a lawyer before going into politics.
So he would have known how to set it up.
This could underlie everything, Murdoch.
But if Chilton submerged his name to cover up his activities,
that would explain why he might want to kill someone,
but it doesn't give us a reason why someone would want to kill Chilton.
- What about the journalist? - He claims he was working
to deadline at the time of the murder.
Sirs, I have found some information I believe is very important.
What have you, George?
It pertains to the theory I expressed to you earlier, sir.
What theory?
Constable Crabtree believes Mr. Briggs is correct
in thinking our culprit is a spirit
inhabiting Queen's Park.
- Spirits! - Hear me out, sirs.
I paid a visit to City Records to look into the history
of the legislative buildings, my thinking being that,
if it had been built atop a cemetery,
that would explain souls of the dead rising up
- in anger about being disturbed. - Oh, George...
But, sir, what I discovered is far more interesting.
All right, I'll nibble. Go on.
Thirty years ago on the very land on which the legislative buildings now sit
was... the University Lunatic Asylum
- for Insane Women. - So?
So?! That explains why Queen's Park is haunted!
What soul is more likely to languish in restless disquiet
than that of a deranged woman?!
George, I thought I expressly told you to restrict your investigation.
- I had some free time, sir. - Not anymore you don't.
I want you to go down to City Records and look into the ownership history
of this Ashbridge's Bay property. And only this.
Sir, if I could just find the identity of the inmate responsible...
- Now, Crabtree! - Yes, sir.
You encourage him.
George.
What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?
Actually, Doctor, I'm hoping that you can help me with
- a murder case we're working on. - Of course. What do you need?
I'm looking for some information about the University Lunatic Asylum.
Is there some connection between the old asylum and a case?
Possibly.
Between you and I, Doctor, there is some evidence
to suggest that a ghost is involved.
A ghost?
Now, Detective Murdoch has yet to sanction such a line of inquiry.
- I see. Well, how can I help you? - I'm hoping to have a look
at the files pertaining to the women who were once inmates there.
Well, when those women were transferred here,
their files may have come over with them.
Take this note to Clifford
in Records, and he will help you.
That's brilliant. Thank you, Doctor.
Dr. Garland.
Constable Crabtree.
Sir.
Hello, Julia.
Well, Darcy, it seems to be a day for unexpected visitors.
- I have a favour to ask. - A favour?
The charity ball tomorrow.
We're expected to bring our wives.
I'm hoping you'll still be able to accompany me.
I see.
I am aware of the awkwardness of the situation.
But we agreed that the hospital board wouldn't
know of the change in our circumstances.
It would be a great favour, Julia.
Yes, yes, of course I'll come with you, Darcy.
We can be done with the pretence soon enough.
Next week I mark one year as chief administrator.
In that position, I'll be a lot more secure, not as easy
- to dismiss me. - They're not going to fire you.
Dr. Lamott thinks you're marvellous. And I will
take the brunt of the scandal of divorce, as it should be.
- What time do you need me? - Pick you up at seven?
Fine.
And, Darcy...
rest assured.
I will be my most gracious self.
- What have you, George? - Ah! Sir!
I looked into the history of the Ashbridge's Bay company.
Until 1787 that property was part of the Toronto
Carrying Purchase from the Mississauga Indians.
It was subsequently allocated to the United Empire Loyalists...
Bloody hell, Crabtree, we don't need to go back to the age of the dinosaurs.
Let's see. In 1860 the land was owned by one Herbert G. Marshall.
His family had farmed it for generations.
He wanted to turn it into a bird sanctuary before he died.
A bird sanctuary. This Marshall would
turn in his grave if he could see it now.
How did the property come to be used for slaughterhouses?
When Herbert Marshall died, it went to his daughter,
Abigail. When she passed, it went to her husband, Thaddeus Walsh.
The provincial secretary?
Who'd have guessed it?
Another politician up to his neck in it.
Walsh built the slaughterhouses. He eventually sold them to Mr. Chilton.
Chilton eventually sold them to the company that owns them now.
I think we should have another chat with Mr. Walsh.
Yes, I built the slaughterhouses.
It was the best use of the land at the time.
- Not a bird sanctuary, then? - A bird sanctuary within city limits...
it's absurd. Cities are for people, not birds. At any rate,
I sold the operation to Reginald when I ran for office.
And you have no further interest in the property?
- None. - Yet you helped Mr. Chilton
push through a proposal that would have
the government purchase the Ashbridge's property
- at an inflated price. - Thick as thieves, you lot.
If we dig into those numbered companies,
what are the chances that both your names turn up.
You intend to drag my name through the dirt in an election year?
You're worried about re-election?
If I were you, I'd be more concerned about my neck in the noose.
The noose?
Mr. Chilton was being investigated by a newspaper
reporter. That investigation could have led to you.
- You're suggesting I killed my friend? - You couldn't kill Jenkins
without drawing suspicion,
but who'd finger you for your pal Chilton's murder?
Your accusations... !
Do you know who I am?
- I'll have your badges! - Mr. Secretary,
not even the Queen gets away with murder.
Good day.
Crabtree.
Go to the business registry office
and see what you can find out about these numbered companies.
Bring the files back with you,
- and pay very careful attention. - You'll be looking for any traces
of Chilton's or Walsh's names hidden in the fine print.
Yes, sir.
George. Have you made any inroads with the inmate files?
I'm afraid I've been waylaid in my efforts.
- Julia. - William.
Are you busy?
An evening with the hospital board is a chore at the best of times,
but I must live up to my arrangement with Darcy.
It is only one evening, Julia.
I can't let him lose his position.
I intend to do everything I can to protect his reputation.
That's only fair.
This circumstance is hardly his fault.
I wish we lived in a different time,
when we could be together and the world wouldn't care.
Is Detective Murdoch in?
No, he's gone off with Dr. Ogden
and left me here on a wild goose chase.
Well, I've made an exciting discovery
that just might lift your spirits,
and perhaps pull Detective Murdoch around to your way of thinking.
Ah, no. A team of workhorses could not accomplish that.
I've detected high levels of adrenaline in the victim's bloodstream.
It's not unusual to find elevated levels in murder victims, of course,
but these were especially high.
- What does it mean? - Adrenaline is secreted
when the victim experiences acute psychological shock.
As if he'd seen a ghost.
George, I think there's more to your theory
than Detective Murdoch gives credit to.
Emily, look at this.
Each one of these asylum files has a complete patient history.
Now, it's my belief that by going through these files
I may be able to identify some of the ghosts that have been seen.
We should see the ghost ourselves.
What, spend the night in Queen's Park?
You're finished your shift soon.
How do we know the ghost will show up? They're notoriously shy.
Perhaps we'll be lucky.
I have a better idea.
We'll capture one.
We call it the scrutiny camera.
I'll set it to take a picture every 10 seconds.
Is it actually possible to take a picture in so dark a place?
If we set the shutter to stay open for a full second.
George... we never did talk
of what happened the day of the evacuation.
Emily, I apologize for overstepping.
- It was just that I thought... - George, you didn't overstep.
I thought we were about to die, and...
kissing you like that was highly presumptuous, I know...
I was very glad you did.
- You were? - I was.
I hear footsteps.
- It's probably just the night watchman. - No, he just went that way.
What?
Who are you?
I'm sorry. I'm a little lost.
- I was summoned to see Mr. Walsh. - At this time of night?
Do you know where his office is?
I believe it's the next floor up.
Ah.
- Thank you. - Well, we should go,
I suppose. I'll check the camera in the morning.
Doctor Grace.
- Are you scared? - No, not at all.
If ghosts are just unmoored souls, they're to be pitied, not feared.
George!
Oh!
- You again? - Any sign of the ghost?
I felt a chill near the suite of the lieutenant governor, but no sightings.
I'll get the lights!
Oh, my goodness.
- Is he dead? - Uh-huh.
You got here quickly, Doctor.
Who discovered the body?
I did, sir.
You did, George?
What were you doing here?
I was setting up the scrutiny camera, sir.
Why?
I was trying to capture proof of the spirit activity, sir.
George, I thought I told you to leave all of that behind.
- It was at my suggestion, Detective. - Dr. Grace...
I believed Constable Crabtree's theory
worthy of consideration. I was surprised to hear
that you did not, given your own experience.
Right. What have you found?
Head trauma may be
the cause of death, but I will not know for sure
till I thoroughly examine the body.
Have we identified him?
Not yet. He actually approached us
shortly before he fell. He was asking directions
for Thaddeus Walsh's office. I found this on his person.
"We need to talk. Come to my Queen's Park office tonight.
Tell no one. T. Walsh."
I don't know him.
You don't seem too sure about that.
Did you summon him?
No.
That's not my signature. You can check it if you like.
Someone clearly stole my letterhead.
Then where were you at the time of the incident?
I was on my way home.
Can anyone confirm that?
You can't seriously think that I had something to do with this.
He's connected to both deaths in different ways.
Oh, he's mixed up in this, Murdoch.
And I'll wager if we follow the money trail, we'll find out.
Crabtree, keep digging into those files.
There's got to be something in there
that clearly links to Chilton and Walsh.
Yes, sir. Sir, I know you don't want to hear any more
about the ghost, but there's something you have to see.
- What is it? - Sir, it's a single frame
from the scrutiny camera film we took at Queen's Park.
Sir, I think that's the glowing ghost.
- It isn't a ghost, George. - Then what is it?
Excuse me, Constable. My husband's gone missing.
Oh, my... God.
Ansel.
Could you please state your husband's full name?
Dr. Ansel Fraser.
When did you last see your husband, Mrs. Fraser?
Uh...
yesterday evening.
Do you know what he was doing at Queen's Park?
I have no idea. He...
he wanted to go for a walk.
He often did that in the evening.
Did he happen to mention a Thaddeus Walsh?
Oh, God.
Mrs. Fraser.
- I'm sorry. - It's quite all right,
Mrs. Fraser. The constable will see you home.
This way.
- Sir... - Not now, George.
Dr. Grace,
have you been able to establish a cause of death?
It wasn't the head trauma from the fall that killed Dr. Fraser.
He was likely dead upon impact, having suffered a myocardial infarction.
A heart attack.
Sir, he died of fright.
- As if he'd seen... - He'd seen a ghost.
Yes, I know where you're going with this, George.
Dr. Grace, I'd like to see a full report.
And, both of you,
not another word about ghosts.
Sir, there's something you should know.
- Is it about a ghost? - No... possibly.
Sir, Dr. Ansel Fraser used to work for the University Lunatic Asylum.
It's part of an independent investigation I've been conducting.
I know what you're going to say, sir, but
I'm sure these deaths have something to do with the old asylum.
See if you can find any link to Mr. Chilton in those files.
Yes, sir.
Whew...
Sir!
Sir! Look at this! Asylum committal papers.
Here is the signature of Dr. Fraser.
Have a look at the name underneath it.
- Reginald Chilton. - He was the committing lawyer.
Sir, both victims are connected to this file.
The inmate was Abigail Marshall.
She's the daughter of the chap
who planned to build the bird sanctuary.
Indeed.
That would make her the late wife of Thaddeus Walsh.
Sir, I believe we've identified the Queen's Park Ghost...
it's the insane deceased wife of Provincial Secretary Walsh!
We need to have a chat with Mr. Walsh.
- About my theory? - No, George.
No!
It can't be! You're dead!
You're dead!
- Who? - Abigail, my wife.
Where did she go?
There!
Stop! Police!
Do you believe me now, sir?
That wasn't a ghost, George.
Sir, we both just saw it with our own eyes!
It was clearly an apparition from the afterlife!
It wasn't a ghost, and I intend to prove it.
What's all this, then?
It's a mixture of zinc sulphide and facial cream.
It functions as a phosphor.
- Phosphorous, ah, yes. - No, sir, not phosphorous.
- Phosphor. - What's the difference?
Phosphorous is an element
that glows when exposed to oxygen.
Phosphor is any compound that absorbs
and then re-emits light in the visible range.
Right, that should do it.
George, you'll need to hold your face up to the sun.
For how long, sir?
Um... two hours should do it.
Two?!
Enjoy, Crabbers.
Murdoch, I give you our test subject.
Very good. George, have a seat.
Good God.
Here you are, George.
- There's your ghost. - Oh, my. Still, sir,
how did Walsh identify the ghost as that of his dead wife?
Good question. How, Murdoch?
I don't know.
But at least now we know how the ghost achieved its ethereal effect.
Sir,
- may I wash this off now? - Not yet, George.
I want to see how long the luminescence lasts.
So, what's going on?
Crabtree was right. Whether there's a ghost or not,
someone's going to a lot of effort to haunt Thaddeus Walsh.
- Mm. - It was the ghost of my dead wife.
Are you quite sure?
Why would your dead wife choose to haunt you?
- I don't know. - Did you collude with your friend Mr. Chilton
to have your wife committed, and have Dr. Fraser approve the committal?
- My wife was a deeply troubled woman. - Who was about to turn a very
valuable piece of property into a bird sanctuary.
It had nothing to do with that!
She was depressed... hysterically so.
I didn't know what else to do.
- It was for her own good. - She must have felt differently.
The two victims were the men who were responsible
for committing her to the asylum.
Do you know what I think, Mr. Walsh?
I think this is all a lie.
I think you concocted this "ghost" to murder your former colleagues
and to deflect suspicion from yourself.
You're wrong. I'm being haunted
by my former wife. I don't know why,
but I want the police to stop persecuting me
and start protecting me!
Protect you from a ghost? How do you propose we do that, then?
If there are no further questions.
Sirs, I wouldn't be so quick to conclude
the glowing woman is not a ghost.
See?
The cream doesn't glow anymore.
He's right.
You brought me inside at 11 o'clock. It's now just past one.
So, what's your point?
My point is, the cream lasts for less than two hours.
In each case the ghost was seen three to five hours after sunset.
Well, Murdoch, is there any other concoction
you can think of that would hold a glow for five hours?
Not offhand, no.
Sir, could she have
charged herself up under a light bulb?
No, the intensity of a light bulb would be insufficient.
Well, then... it must be a ghost.
- I hate to say it, Murdoch. - Sir, you can't possibly think...
It glows, it looks like Abigail Marshall, and I don't
think this is all the brainchild of Thaddeus Walsh.
Run with it, Crabtree. Find out what you can
about Abigail Marshall and this ghost business.
Yes, sir.
You're just encouraging him.
Emily!
They've finally come around to supporting
my ghost investigation! At least,
- Inspector Brackenreid has. - That's excellent news, George.
My plan is to return to Queen's Park
with the scrutiny camera if you'd care to assist me.
Of course.
I can finish this work later.
So, how do you propose we get a sharper picture this time?
I'm going to widen the aperture
and shorten the exposure.
- Huh. - Emily, what's that?
What?
Something's glowing over there.
Indeed it is.
It's coming from Dr. Fraser.
There was something in the creases of his palm
during my post-mortem. I thought it was dirt, but it's something else.
- What? - Something that glows.
Do you think it's from the ghost?
Ghosts don't manifest physical matter.
Yes, right, no, I know.
I suppose we should inform Detective Murdoch.
For all his finesse as a surgeon,
Dr. McKenzie doesn't cut much of a figure on the dance floor.
He ruined the shoe on my left foot.
I think you've finally made an impression with Dr. Lamott.
He was hanging on your every word.
Really? Perhaps I should have brought up the benefits
of a contraception clinic while I had him in my thrall.
It was a wonderful evening, Julia. Thank you for coming.
You're welcome, Darcy. I'm glad you asked.
I'd forgotten how much I enjoy your company.
William.
Julia!
My goodness, you look beautiful.
Well, thank you, Detective.
I just came by to say good night.
How was the ball? Not too tedious, I hope.
I survived.
William, what is causing that luminescence?
Oh, it's something I've never seen before.
It was found on the hands of our latest victim.
What I suspect... it's impossible.
Have a look.
I suspect it's a compound of some sort
and one of the ingredients is... radium dust.
- That's remarkable. - But who here in Toronto would
have access to such a rare element?
Actually, I have read about a scientist who went to Paris
to consult with Madame Curie on her work with radium.
Someone in Toronto now?
Do you recall the name?
I do. It's Professor Paul Monteith.
Incredible as it seems, this appears to contain the very same substance
- as I've been working with. - Radium.
Yes. I've been developing a radium paint compound.
To what purpose?
A company in the United States
hopes one day to create pocket watches with glowing dials.
Hm.
Professor Monteith,
does anyone else have access to your materials?
No. I work entirely alone.
It's a very painstaking and meticulous process,
as you might imagine.
- I knew it wasn't a ghost. - No.
The substance that our so-called ghost used was a compound
of Jonteel Beauty Cream, water, and radium.
- And what is this radium? - It's a newly discovered element.
It produces a persistent luminescent glow.
Our ghost must have applied the beauty cream to her face
then found a way to imbue her clothing in radium.
- How did she get a hold of it? - I have no idea.
It's very rare, difficult to produce.
As a matter of fact, we only know of one scientist who's been working with it.
Sirs, I've discovered something I believe is of significance.
What is it?
When Abigail Marshall was committed to the Lunatic Asylum,
she was pregnant.
Oh? And she had the child?
Asylum records state only that she went into labour.
The next entry lists that she died two days later.
She died in childbirth.
- Along with the baby? - Well, the thing is,
I then went to City Records and they do have a record of the birth...
a girl, Lorraine.
The interesting thing is, the signature
on that birth certificate is that of Imogene Fraser.
- The wife of our second victim. - Yes, sir.
When Dr. Fraser was the head of the Lunatic Asylum, his wife,
Mrs. Fraser, was the matron.
This is all my fault.
Ansel's dead because of me.
How so?
I had no idea she'd do something like this.
I just thought she had a right to know who she was,
to know who her mother was.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Fraser, who are we talking about?
Lorraine.
Abigail Marshall's daughter.
It was you. You took the child from her.
I did as I was instructed.
Who gave those orders?
The lawyer, Mr. Chilton.
Abigail was inconsolable.
The baby was the only thing she had.
Two days after we wrested Lorraine from her arms,
she hanged herself.
But not before
writing a letter to the child she would never know.
You went to see Lorraine, didn't you?
Yes, to give her the letter
along with a photograph of her mother.
She's the perfect likeness.
Why now, after you'd kept your silence
for all these years?
My conscience could abide no longer the wrong we'd done.
Neither my husband nor I were in good health.
I'd hoped to make amends
so we might... meet again in heaven.
What happened to the child, to Lorraine?
They asked me to arrange for an adoption.
She went to a good home.
Who took her in?
So you had no idea of the child's origins?
No.
My wife and I raised Lorraine as though she were our very own.
Do you know where your daughter is now, Professor?
- She's at her place of work. - And where is that?
She works at Queen's Park.
She's a typist there.
Pardon us, ladies.
- What are you doing? - What's going on?
Miss Monteith, we need to have a talk.
Do they read like the thoughts of a madwoman?
- No, they do not. - They shut her up in that horrible place.
They stole her life.
And for what?
A miserable piece of land.
So you took your revenge.
I'd heard about the ghosts at Queen's Park.
I knew two of the men responsible worked there.
And you knew of your adoptive father's work with radium.
I intended to haunt them
as my mother's ghost, make them feel the terror
she must have felt every day in that awful place.
But I never intended for them to die.
You didn't?
It was their own guilt that killed them.
I never touched Chilton. He fell all by himself.
And Dr. Fraser?
I don't know what happened.
He just grabbed his chest and fell down the stairs.
The only one I intended to kill was Walsh.
Your father.
He was no father to me.
What's happening to me?
She's not well, is she?
Maybe it's the radium stuff she was rubbing all over herself.
It's a very new discovery. We know so little about it.
- Are we going to charge her? - I'm not sure how.
The person I'd really like to charge is Thaddeus Walsh.
That's not very likely,
although his political career is most likely ruined.
Sometimes there's just no justice in the world. Drink?
I might almost say yes.
George. I thought we might return to Queen's Park
to attempt the capture of one of the real ghosts on film.
Unfortunately Detective Murdoch has made it
abundantly clear I'm not to use the scrutiny camera
for any more extra-departmental activities.
He's even put it under lock and key.
Oh. That is a shame.
However, Emily, there are said to be several soldiers
from the war of 1812 who haunt the shores of Grenadier Pond.
I don't know if you'd be up for an excursion to High Park?
I happen to be free this evening.
Excellent. Now, we won't have the camera to keep watch for us, unfortunately.
Then we shall simply have to keep each other awake.
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