02x03 - Bad Egg

[bunniefuu]

Now, the main thing about
a job like this is timing.

It's got to be mid-afternoon,
in the drowsy hours,

when the staff need
a bit of shuteye.

Oh, and a scorcher
of an afternoon,

when the public don't fancy
dragging their juicy pits

around a stuffy museum.

So, you go in and you say...

Now, THIS is what I
wanted to show you.

A unique polychrome ostrich
egg painted by Antoine du Bel.

Isn't it wonderful?

And then YOU say... It was an Easter
gift from Louis XV to his mistress,

wasn't it? Indeed it was. I assume
it was mounted by Gaulthier?

Very impressive knowledge.

And then the decoys walk
in, cause a shemozzle...

Come on, you twerps.
It's art! Oh! DOG BARKS

You do what we rehearsed,
and you cannot fail.

Quiet, Bullseye! Sh. Don't
lick the paintings, boy.

Oh, do not look. Do not look!

The man in that painting has
got his wally on display.

The woman in that one's
got her bongos out.

Oh, th-th-that is grotesque.
Avert your eyes, children.

Dreadfully sorry about this.
I want to see the wally.

No, you can't see wallies
till you're married.

What about the bongos?
Er, er, er, excuse me.

The sign clearly
says, "No dogs."

Who are you calling a dog? My
Bullseye loves a bit of painting.

Woof! I'm going to have to
ask you to leave. Go on!

That's out of order. We
can't go! Out of order!

You're spoiling it for everybody
else. Come on. Off you go.

ARGUING

Oi, don't touch me! We're
going. Off you go. We're going!

Just... Bye! I'm so
sorry about all...

Security!

We're leaving, we're leaving!
You don't need to follow us down!

ALARM RINGS Why are
you following us?

Got to get out of here quick.

Come on! Oh! Oh, I beg
your pardon. Sorry.

I've got you now.

You are going to swing.

You're alive.

Police! Guards! Guards!

D-D-Dodger! Dodger,
run! Run! Run!

No! No! Police! Dodger, run!
Dodger! Dodger! Get off! Argh!

Get off me! No, no!

Read all about it!

Criminal delinquent Dodger
arrested in bungled egg art theft.

Oh, that was a mouthful.

Come on.

In you go.

Sit... down.

CHUCKLING

FORCED CHUCKLING

I'm just enjoying the moment.

I... got Dodger... banged up.

From now on, I'll forever be
known as "Perry Blathers...

"Chief of Police...

"the man who finally
caught Dodger."

Now, Sir Charles Rowan
tried and failed.

I tried... and succeeded.

Now, Duff...

..keep an eye on these two.

Remember what happened
last time. Mm.

See you later.

Don't try anything.

KEYS JANGLE IN LOCK

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Permission to put Dodger
away once and for all, sir?

Oh, yeah, yeah. We don't
need to bother with a trial.

We could always
pretend we had one.

What do you say, Charles?

HORN HONKS Yes. He agrees.

Such a shame he can't use his
voice at all after the accident.

He had such a rich baritone.

Now, he just has a honk. Oh.

And some slight movement
in his right hand.

I thought it might
aid his recovery,

coming back to his old
stomping ground, but...

..all he does is stare.

You know, he hasn't
taken his eyes off you

from the moment
I wheeled him in.

I faced down hundreds
of criminals in my time,

I can see when a man has
got something to hide.

Are you pleased to see Mr
Blathers again, Charles?

YOU are a disgrace
to my police force.

Once for yes, twice
for no, remember?

HORN HONKS TWICE

Oh.

Mr Blathers is the new
acting Chief of Police,

you know, Charles?
I caught Dodger.

Can you believe that?

Ain't so stupid
after all, now, am I?

HORN HONKS ONCE

I can't believe
he's still alive.

Well, we won't be soon unless
we think of something - fast.

You got any ideas? Eh?

HE SIGHS Brilliant.

Well, what happened? We
rehearsed this like a ballet!

Who got their tutu in a tangle?

It weren't us! Yeah, yeah.

We done everything.
EVERYTHING you asked!

What's going to happen to them?

Nothing.

I'm giving myself up.

It's all my fault.

So you'd leave us, would
you? How many times, Fagin?

There's two of them
and three of us.

Oh, come off it.
Don't be like that!

No, I WILL be like that. You've
always treated Dodger different,

and for what? What
makes HIM so special?

Minnie will look after ya.
Oh! Oh, I will, will I?

If I wanted to have kids,
I'd have nicked some.

I'm no good for your health.

I'm like a six-foot toadstool
full of rotten spores.

Oh, ditch the fungus
talk and do one.

You ain't getting
any sympathy from us.

The noose is too good for me.

All the things I've done.

I'm going down the nick.

I'm going to do a swap.

A sacrifice.

Me for them.

I'm going.

DOOR OPENS Ah, you're right.

They've already got two
scalps, don't need another.

I'm better for you here.

I'm going to bed.

What a prat. DOOR CLOSES

KNOCK ON DOOR Come in.

How can I help you? Maybe
it is I who can help YOU.

Sir Denholm Havers!
What brings you here?

Well, I happened to be at the
National Gallery this afternoon

and witnessed the arrest.

SHOUTING Security!

What will become of
the two young thieves?

They'll be sent to the gallows.

Shame.

Have you considered
rehabilitation?

Ahem, er, no, no.

No, Dodger and his
acolyte are a menace.

Maybe so, but, is it worth
giving them one last chance?

Why not enrol them in an
educational establishment

and see if you can turn a bad
penny into a shiny sovereign?

Can a disgusting urchin
boy become a gentleman?

It's an interesting concept. But
which educational establishment

would accept groin
rags like them?

Mine. Sir Denholm is the
headmaster of St Albion's College,

the finest school in the Empire.

Every boy who attends goes on
to make his mark in the world...

..myself included. You
could try it with both boys

as a social experiment.
Dodger won't change,

neither will the other one.

Charles, your thoughts?

HORN HONKS

Is that, "Yes, you
agree with Mr Blathers,"

or, "Yes, you agree with
Sir Denholm and myself?"

HORN HONKS

HORN HONKS AGAIN
Yes, yes, was that

two honks for "no" followed by a
"yes" or three separate "yeses"?

HORN HONKS TWICE

HORN HONKS REPEATEDLY

HONKING CONTINUES

Yes, Charles agrees with
me, so that's decided.

Splendid. Well, they
can begin straight away.

Yes, sir. HORN HONKS TWICE

Out!

It makes me bilious.

How can the worst form of human
effluence be granted the opportunity

to set forth in the grounds of
the finest school in the Empire?

To be taught by first-rate brains
and beaten by first-rate canes.

Our founder would be
spinning in his tomb.

What is this place? Don't know.

My dear Montagu,

these delinquents may teach us
a thing or two about society.

We're living in changing times,

we must harness the power
of the working class.

I've never seen prison uniforms
as fancy as these ones before.

I ain't never seen a prison
as fancy as this before.

Look, even the screw's
wearing a funny hat.

Havers, these are not working
class... they are criminal class.

Their dirty minds will
contaminate the entire school.

Before you know
it, every boy here

will be a pickpocket, a
prigger, and a cut-throat.

Neanderthals had
the same reaction

when they saw
h*m*-sapiens making fire.

Wasn't long before
they too burnt out.

Havers, are you calling me an
ape? I wouldn't dream of it.

Good morning. My name is
Horatio Quincy de Vere Kistel.

Welcome to St Albion's. St
Albion's? Must be a new slammer.

Oh, this isn't a penitentiary.
What? This is a school. School?

Oh, no. Our founder,
Lord Julius Albion,

established the school in 1440
for the sons of the nobility.

He fought in the Battle of Agincourt
with his golden bow and arrow

and k*lled over a
thousand Frenchmen

with just three
arrows in his quiver.

His bow's the symbol
of St Albion's,

and his body is entombed in
the crypt beneath the chapel.

This school produces the
finest men in the world.

See him? He's going
to be Prime Minister.

Oh. He's going to be
Chancellor of the Exchequer.

What? He is going to
be Captain of Industry.

He is going to be the
Archbishop of Canterbury.

How do YOU know? It's
all been decided,

that's the Albion way.

Who's the blonde giving
me evils? That's Spleen,

he's the biggest
bully in the school.

He's rich and very dangerous.

Keep away.

KNOCK ON DOOR Come.

Ah, Mr Dawkins, Master Chitling.

You have been bestowed
upon this school in order

to have an education.

You will both be treated like
any other boy in St Albion's,

despite your backgrounds.

I believe every child
should have a fair chance.

Now, how old are you?

I think I'm 11. Or 12.

Maybe 13.

Could be 15.

Something like that.
All I know is I'm a man.

Excuse me, mate.

Do we have to, er,
stay all day, or what?

LAUGHING: The whole day?

You're here for five years.

Five years?

What about home time?
THIS is your home now.

I can't believe we have to stick
around here for FIVE years.

All that time wasted
on an education.

Imagine all the things
we could be stealing.

SHOUTING: Dawkins!

Dawkins! Ha-ha! If it
isn't the Artful Dodger!

Woodward, editor of
the school newspaper.

I'm writing an article on you.

Got anything to say? What
about? Yourself, of course.

Why are you here? Leave me alone,
will you? Don't want to talk to you.

I'll talk to you.

I've been inside
too, as it happens.

No-one's interested in you.

If you change your mind,
you'll find me in the library.

SHOUTING: Boys!

Boys, what are you doing?

Get back to lessons.
Shouldn't be out of class.

Criminals.

What've you heard? Well,
I've been buffing all day,

and I've heard nothing
from the boots.

There's been no trial, no
court case, no nothing.

Same here. But they ain't been
seen down the pauper's pit,

so they're still dancing.

If they ain't in the nick and they
ain't in the ground, where are they?

Strange. Very strange.

BUT, you know what they say -

"no news is good news."

Try telling me that!

Right.

Let's see how the new
scruffs fare at sports.

They are used to running
from the law, after all.

Hurdles! Urchins, step forward.

Come on, criminals,
you know who you are.

Now, I want you to
run from the start...

..to the finish... without
spilling ONE drop of the bubbles,

you got that?

SHOUTING: Do you understand
me? BOTH: Yes. Yes, sir.

Good. On your marks.

Down, boys!

On your marks...

..get set...

WHISTLE

..go!

No. No, you don't go under them.

Don't go around them like
sheepdogs, you silly little urchins!

Back! Back! Come on!

You nasty, squat, little urchin
boy, get back to the beginning!

I want you to JUMP, JUMP,
JUMP, JUMP over the hurdles,

do you understand? On
your marks... get set...

WHISTLE

Jump! Jump! No!

No! What are you
doing? Oh, my goodness.

No!

I did it! Come on! Ha-ha!

Yeah! I'm out of here.

I'M OUT OF HERE! What
are you doing, Tom?

Where do you think
you're going? Oi! Tom!

PANTING

FREEDO-O-O-OM!

Escape from me?!

You nasty little urchin.

Ha! No! Got you!

I wouldn't want to
be in HIS pants.

At St Albion's, all
boys are thrashed.

Our great founder once said, "It
is the cane more than any book

"which instils in them learning,
manners, and gratitude."

No. Please, sir, I won't
do it again, I swear.

You tried to escape and
you must be punished.

Some of the finest fellows in
the world have felt the kiss

of this cane.

Be grateful.

Say, "Thank you, cane."

SOFTLY: Thank you, cane. Good.

Now, brace!

CANE CRACKS, TOM SCREAMS

This place is brutal. It's
worse than any prison.

Well, it serves you right,
trying to run off without me.

If we're going to escape, we're
gonna have to work together.

Did I hear "escape"? BOTH: Sh!

Impossible. Hundreds have tried,
but no-one has EVER succeeded.

Apart from one.

Oh, yeah?

Every night at 11 o'clock,

all of the college laundry is
collected from here by coach

and taken into
town to be washed.

In 1823, Master
Jeremy Book, aged 15,

hid himself in one
of those baskets,

and ran home to his parents.

You expect me to hide in a load
of dirty bloomers? No, thanks.

It's the only way. Trust
me. Dodger, are you in?

Yeah.

HANDBELL RINGS

Lights out!

Get to bed!

WHISPERS: Dodger?

How are we going to wake
up in time to escape?

We're going to have to
take turns sitting up.

When I sleep, you stay awake.

When you sleep, I stay awake. Right.
I'll stay up first. You go to sleep.

You sure? Yeah. I got
it, yeah. All right.

TOM SNORES, FLOORBOARDS CREAK

DOOR CREAKS

MUFFLED MURMURING

GROANING AND MURMURING

What you doing? Argh!

Agh! Ah!

WHISPERING: Dodger?

ARGH! HELP! HELP! Quiet!

This is a sacred place.

This is the burial chamber of
our founder, Saint Julius Albion.

We have brought you here
because you have been selected

to join... the Havoc Club.
What's the Havoc Club?

It's a secret society.

The most famous secret
society there has EVER been.

Well, can't be that
secret if it's famous.

You should consider yourself
lucky to be selected.

So, er, w-what you do
in this club, then?

We create havoc!

See!

What if I don't want
to join this club?

No-one has ever turned down
an offer from the Havoc Club

without having any bones broken.

Come with us.

Put it on... boy.

WHISPERS: Dodger?

LOUD WHISPER: Dodger!

You're the thief.
Break into that shop.

Grab as much as you
can in one minute.

We smash the rest.

It don't make sense.

Why am I nicking some stuff
and you're bashing up the rest?

So no-one knows
what's gone, pug face.

I don't have my tools. Here.

Hurry up!

Now!

Argh, my arm!

HORSE WHINNIES

Tom! Tom!

Tom! Tom?

Never make me go
to school again.

BELL CHIMES

Get up, boys! Up!

Master Dawkins, I see
Master Chitling has escaped.

Why are you still here?

St Albion's? It's a school.
It's dripping in bunce.

Even the dead
teachers are loaded.

They've got the
fella, what set it up,

buried there with a bow and
arrow made of solid gold.

Solid gold? Yeah.

So, what are you doing here?
Get back there and dig it up.

Dig what up? The bow!

The solid gold bow and arrow!

No, I ain't doing that.

We're not graverobbers, Fagin.

Tom. He's a knight, ain't he?

He'll be wearing his
metal shirt and trousers.

You won't see no bones.

Just be lifting a
lid off a stone box.

No, no way!

I ain't going back there!

Have you seen what
they did to my bum?

Oh, God!

Looks like something you'd
find in a butcher's bin.

Yeah. That's why I
ain't going back.

I'LL go. Poll, it's a boys
school. You're a girl.

I reckon I could
pass for a fella.

I've had the kit on, I
think I could pull it off.

My mum did always say,
she didn't know if I was

Arthur or Martha for the
first six years of my life.

I want to be a
boy. Yeah, AND me.

It's sorted, then.

You can get Dodger off his
classes while you're at it.

How do we get in?

Easy - the same way I got out.

I said, get off me, will you?!

Sir, here's an
interesting one for you.

There have been reports of a nasty
robbery in the village of Tottenham,

which is right near
St Albion's College.

The victim, a local shop owner,
claims he saw five children dressed

in fencing masks running
away in the direction

of St Albion's College.
What a coincidence. Yes.

Dodger's been there five minutes
and the crime's rate shot up.

Do you reckon it's him?

Yeah, I'm going down
there. The little rat.

He thinks he's got away with
it, but I'm going to catch him.

Yeah! I'm going to be the
man that caught Dodger twice.

Good on you, sir.

Hold the fort. Yeah!

BELL CHIMES

MUFFLED CONVERSATION

Do you think he knows something?

Art. One of the perks of being
a headmaster in such a school

is that one gets to indulge
one's artistic passions.

Keeping you awake,
are we, Dawkins?

Oh, no, sir.

I just didn't get much
sleep last night, sir.

Look at that. What do you see?

Mud? Clay, boy! Clay!

The Mud of Dreams.

Michelangelo's David.
Canova's Medusa.

Bernini's The Ecstasy
Of Saint Teresa.

They all began as formless
rock or lumps of clay.

The artist's eye sees beauty
and possibility in a lump.

You shape this into
anything you like,

just as you can shape yourself
into anything you want.

That is the St Albion's way.

Now, I want you all to
mould something from clay.

When your piece is done,
you place it in here.

The kiln, which fires the clay.

But be careful. It's
as hot as Hades inside.

You may begin.

Mr Dawkins? Could I have a word?

Your friend ran away last
night. Very disappointing.

I hope you don't feel
the need to follow suit.

No, of course not, sir.

Good. You must not waste
such an opportunity.

I see great promise in
you. Like that clay,

you, too, can be transformed
from a lump into a masterpiece.

Thank you, sir. KNOCK AT DOOR

Master.

WHISPERING

Boys! There is to be an assembly
in the chapel immediately.

Come along.

Salve Iudices.

This is Sergeant Blathers
from Scotland Yard.

Last night, there was a nocturnal
act of vandalism in town.

Witnesses saw
youngsters in disguise.

Let me be clear.

If I discover that any of these acts
come back to this fine school...

..there will be
serious consequences.

Sergeant Blathers.

Now, if anyone saw or knows
anything about what happened...

..or if you heard whispers or
boys talking about the attack.

Or if you ARE the boy...

..come tell me.

Because I can wait.

I can wait all day.

And all night if I have to.

Um, the boys have
got lessons to go to.

Yup, yup, right. Course they do.

But I'll be back.

With bells on.

And whistles.

Bells, whistles...

..and a truncheon.
One moment, sir!

Edmund Woodward, The
Albion Chronicle.

You said disguise?

Do these attacks bear
any of the hallmarks

of the Havoc Club, sir?

Sh. Sit back down,
Woodward. Not now.

The Havoc Club?

Were they wearing
fencing masks, perchance?

I believe they were.

The Havoc Club has long
been banned, Woodward.

It is a relic of the past, and
that is where it shall remain.

There is no place for
violence, theft or vandalism...

..in a fine school such
as this. That will be all.

Excuse me. OK.

Sorry...

Hold on.

I'm still here. I'm still here.

Stand! Back to your
classrooms. Single file!

Oi, Woodward. Tell me
about the Havoc Club.

The Havoc Club was
a secret society.

It was infamous. For
hundreds of years,

the worst boys in the school
assembled in the crypt at night

and did unspeakable things
as a rite of passage.

The club was banned
for years and years.

Now I think it's been resurrected,
but for a different purpose.

What makes you think that? I
did a bit of digging at lunch.

They took some paintings
and a Swiss cuckoo clock.

Now, tell me, Master Dawkins,
why would teenage vandals

pick such valuable artefacts?

Someone else put them up to it!

Someone with a collector's eye.

So a master's involved! Sh! Why
are you so interested anyway?

Can I trust you? Of
course, I'm a journalist.

Let's cut your hair
so you look like lads.

Go easy, will you?

You've blunted me scissors.
It's like cutting wire wool.

Oh! Here, Poll, gather
that up for me, will you?

I can use it to
stuff me mattress.

You ain't going anywhere near
my head with them scissors.

I'll cut my hair myself.

Yeah, it looks like it, and all.

Look what a good
job I done on Tang.

I hate you!

All right, fine, you can cut it,

but don't touch the fringe.
The fringe is classic.

The price of official
school uniform is criminal!

Blazers, socks,
monogrammed doodahs.

And they call us thieves.

I'm glad I didn't pay for it.

Well, come on!

Watch the fringe.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come!

Ah, Quincy! I have those
ledgers you requested, sir.

The figures aren't
looking too good.

Right. Thank you, boy.

Quincy, what are you
doing here? Go on, boy!

Headmaster, I have just come
back from rowing practice.

Our boat is a travesty.
It started sinking.

It's riddled with woodworm, and our
archery equipment is a disgrace.

We have one quiver
for every 100 boys.

Surely we have the
funds to buy new ones?

I have been asking for months.

The pot is dry, I'm afraid.

How can that be? Inflation.

Headmaster, this simply
isn't good enough.

I am not a sorcerer!

I cannot magic up money out
of thin air! That is all!

BELL CHIMES Oi, Spleen!

I've been looking
all over for you.

Go away, pug face, I'm busy.

You think I don't know?

You think I'm
thick, Havoc Prince?

I can smell your breath
through that fencing gear.

And I know you hurt your
arm climbing up that gate.

You didn't even change
your voice, you idiot!

They made me do it! Who?

I don't know. No-one does.

But if you don't do what
you're told, you get expelled.

People who, don't
disappear... Be careful.

Be very careful. You have no
idea who you're dealing with.

CREAKING

Hello? Who's there?

MUFFLED CRIES

BELL CHIMES

MONTAGU: Wake up!

Woodward?

Turn to page five.
Get on with your sums.

Quincy! Sshhh!

Where's Woodward? Dawkins!
Stop asking questions!

Oi, Quincy! What's
happened to Woodward?

I don't know! I don't know!

I found this in my
book. It's a note.

I think Woodward put it there.

Well? What does it
say? Nemini confide.

Yeah? What does that
mean? Trust no-one.

Whatever they did to
Woodward, they could do to me.

I saw Spleen talking to Montagu.

Montagu's got the key to
all that fencing gear.

That's what the Havoc Club uses.

There's something bandy
going on this school.

I think Woodward was silenced.

Dodger, go to the headmaster,
like the policeman said.

Don't tell anyone else.

Thanks, mate. All right, keep
walking. Nothing happened.

We'll get the bow and arrow,
then we'll get Dodger.

Come on!

Sir! Sir! I need to speak to you.
It's very urgent. What is it, boy?

I think something hooky is
going on in your school.

Look, I want you to
tell me everything,

but we can't talk here,
it's far too risky.

Meet me in my art
room in five minutes.

Yes, sir.

Boys.

BOYS!

Where do you think you're going?

Well? Answer me.

I don't know your faces,
tell me your names.

I'm Perkins. I'm
Smith. And I'm...

She's Morris.

She?! I mean, he, sir.

I'm a boy.

Which house are you in?

We're new here,
it's our first day.

Well...

..go and report to the
office, then. Go on.

SHOUTS: No!

This way, you imbeciles.

This is it, come on.

Well, what is it, boy?

I need to tell you about all
the things I stole last night.

You stole? It wasn't my
fault, sir, they made me.

Who? Who made you? The Havoc
Club. They're back, sir.

They made me go into town
and rob this art shop.

I had to take loads of expensive
things, pictures, a cuckoo clock.

I didn't want to do it.

Havoc Club?

They were wearing masks, so
I couldn't see their faces.

But, I know one of
them was Spleen,

because he hurt his
arm when we broke in.

They say someone is
putting them up to it.

I think it's a teacher, sir.

Woodward thought so too.

Did he?

Urgh!

Push.

There we go.

I reckon it's Montagu,

because he's got the key
to all that fencing gear.

CUCKOO CLOCK CHIMES

Where is that coming from?

CHIMING CONTINUES

HE GASPS

Urgh!

There's a little geezer in here.

Or is that a puppet in a suit?

Where's the bow and arrow?

CUCKOO CLOCK CHIMES

You're right about one
thing, it IS a teacher.

But it's not Montagu.

You.

After I heard about your
escapade with the egg,

I realised I had an opportunity.

The sharpest little thief
in London at my disposal.

You fitted me up.

Some people are
addicted to gambling.

I'm addicted to art
and valuable antiques.

I've run up quite a debt.

I borrowed a little
from the school kitty.

A little became a lot.

I needed something more valuable
than ever to pay off my creditors -

the founder's golden bow.

Woodward was onto
me, so he had to go.

And so do you.

Argh!

MUFFLED: Help! Let me out!

I can't, you're only half-baked.

HE GROANS

The headmaster put me in here
and he'll be after Dodger next.

Come on, let's check the art
room, he's probably in there!

After you.

THEY GASP Here he
is - in the kiln!

Argh.

Wait a minute, what
are you doing here?

We're coming to get you out and nick
the founder geezer's bow and arrow.

Hang on.

We've go to get out of here.

Follow me.

BOYS!

Stop!

Stop! Go, go! Stop!

Come on!

HORSE CLOPS AND NEIGHS

Right, this is as far as we go.

Woodward, Fleet Street
is a mile that way.

Fleet Street? The home of the
great British press, of course.

This story is way too big
for the school newspaper.

Thank you, Dodger.

Bye!

Don't get many of
them to the pound.

Wait until we show
Fagin what WE'VE got.

Well done, Dodger.

Look at them
beauties, solid gold.

Bet they've pierced a
few bleeding hearts.

Now,

keep them safe until
we can find a buyer.

Fagin.

He's alive. Who's alive?

Rowan.

What, as in Police Chief Rowan?

Fell off the roof Rowan? Yeah.

He can't be.

He must have a head like brass
to survive a fall like that.

He's dented, but he's not dead.

I saw him getting wheeled in
the gallery by Judge Fang.

Well, what did he say?

Nothing. I don't think
he can talk or move.

It's like he's alive in his
brain, but nowhere else.

Well, let's hope
he stays that way

and he don't discover
the gift of gabble.

Ah, don't worry, boy.

He can't find us.

Anyway, we didn't push him.

We're safe.

I'm going to bed.

Night, night.

Yeah, come on, it's
closing time, Dodger.

O-oh, yeah, sorry, yeah.

You wouldn't mind locking
up for me, would you?

Thanks, Dodge.

SHE YAWNS

DOOR CLOSES

Blast!

HE WHISTLES Oi!

He went this way! Speed,
come on, boy, keep up!

Havers! I knew he was a bad egg.

When I saw he'd stolen
my fencing mask,

we followed him from the school.

Spleen, go and gather up the
other arrows, quickly. Yes, sir.

Criminal, I owe you an apology.

Havers was right
about one thing,

an urchin can turn into a fine,
upstanding citizen, after all.

Thank you, sir. Because of you,

the founder's bow will be returned
to its rightful place in the crypt.

Oh, so I don't get to keep it?

HE SCOFFS No.

Sir.

I could only find two.

Two is better than
one, I suppose.

Good work, Spleen.

Farewell, criminal.

Right, we need the constabulary,
this needs to be cleared up.

Come on, then.

Looks like the school
needs a new headmaster.

I'd fit the bill,
wouldn't I, Spleen?

Come on!

See? I told you
it was a mistake.

Once a criminal,
always a criminal.

Dodger will never change.

Yes, very disappointing experiment,
and I didn't get to do any hanging.

I feel quite bereft.

Are you all right, Charles?

MUMBLING

I think he's trying
to say something.

What is it, Charles?

What is it?

Dodger.

I... know...
where... you... are.