Endeavour

In the spring of 1918,

Nicholas II,

deposed tsar of all the Russias,

was brought, together with his wife and five children...

to the city of Yekaterinburg...

where they were executed

by their Bolshevik captors.

When the dead were examined,

it was found

that the women had concealed about their bodies

gold and jewels.

Go ahead, caller.

Commissioned as a 16th birthday present

for the Grand Duchess Anastasia,

I give you...

Innocence.

Or Nastya's Egg.

(bell ringing, cheers and applause)

Oh, God, look, look.

You! Up on the roof!

Five, four, three...

Two, one.

Thus, after almost 100 years,

the long and distinguished history

of Oxford City Police

is ended.

The motto of the new constabulary

is Sit pax in valle tamesis.

For the benefit of the non-classicists amongst us,

Detective Sergeant Morse

has kindly provided a translation.

Morse? He's on a shout, sir.

Handbag snatch.

Ah.

Found by the beat man just after 6:00.

No I.D. on him.

Car's leased.

Waiting on the firm's offices opening

before we can say who to. That's Joey Sikes.

You know him, sir?

We've had dealings.

Ex-boxer.

Decent right, but slow on his feet.

I saw him on the undercard at White City

when Bruce Woodcock beat Freddie Mills.

He lost that night, too.

Who lives here?

No reply.

Still working door-to-door.

Doctor.

Gentlemen.

Shot... three times.

Twice in the chest and once in the back.

From close range.

Somewhere between midnight and 4:00.

Someone inside the car, then.

Can't say if any of those would have been lethal

until I've had a gander.

Well, it's not likely to be anything else, is it?

Unlikely he'd survive a metal spike

being driven into his ear.

Whether that was insult to injury remains to be seen.

.38 caliber in the glove compartment.

Recently discharged.

Nobody saw or heard anything?

There was a party in the warehouse down the end.

Loud music.

Between that

and the thunderstorm.

He's had a woman in the car

at some point, too.

Cocktail cigarettes ringed with lipstick.

Right.

You press on here with the door-to-door.

I'll brief Mr. Bright.

Joey Sikes, sir.

Gunned down on Holywell Lane.

Falling out amongst the criminal fraternity?

Certainly looks that way, sir.

Well, I don't want these people thinking our reorganization

is an opportunity for them to make hay.

I'll make that clear, sir.

Oh, there was... one more thing.

About the Morse situation.

We've got a number at Lonsdale, looks like.

Can you deal? What kind of number?

Attempted burglary from the sounds of it.

Shirl's on the scene.

She'll fill you in.

I can finish up here.

Morning.

Intruder spotted on the roof by the master

and one of the dons last night.

Well, why didn't they call it in, then?

Well, they thought it might be

a drunken undergrad larking about.

But this morning, a scout found this.

Appears he left empty-handed.

I've had a look topside.

This was the only thing up there.

It's an unusual spot

for an auction.

It's an unusual bequest.

Not every day a college is left an object of vertu.

"Innocence,

also known as Nastya's Egg."

Fabergé's last great masterpiece.

It was lost for 50 years.

And now, bequeathed to us by a late graduate.

Its value to be realized to the benefit of the college.

DS Morse.

Thames Valley C.I.D.

What's it expected to fetch?

The reserve is set at 30,000.

If the provenance is to be believed.

It's reliable.

Robin Grey.

Dr. Grey is a great authority on Russian imperial jewelry.

He's been instrumental in establishing

the veracity of the original designs.

Any news on this burglar?

Oh, well, we found this.

Well that's The Shadow's calling card, isn't it?

The what?

An international art thief.

He leaves a single red rose at the scene of his crimes.

Well, if he exists.

That's all a bit Simon Templar,

don't you think?

Well, he's real enough to Interpol.

The Lugash diamond?

The golden dagger of Sultan Mahmud?

Or are you saying that none of those things were stolen?

Oh, I'm sure they were stolen,

but whether or not by the same person

is another matter entirely.

Well, we'll step up the beat patrol

until the auction is concluded

and in the meantime, I'd advise you to keep it

under lock and key and not just on display.

Unless you want it lost for another 50 years.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

I never knew you cared.

So what was he after?

The Fabergé? Who?

The Shadow!

I think given the date, we're looking at something

less criminal altogether.

April Fool's.

For a cracksman of international renown,

it was hardly a case

of now you see me, now you don't.