Mercy Street

We are soon to have a visit from the President.

The Lincolns?

Sign the oath. Sign it.

- I cannot. - Aurelia!

He's worsening?

I'm trying to keep him alive.

- Frank's doing better? - He's back in Alexandria.

What is it you need?

To do my part in the struggle.

We're going to blow King Lincoln straight to hell.

What in the hell is this all a-

You did all you could.

Careful, now. These stairs be a thing out of Dante.

"All hope abandon, ye who enter here."

Oh.

Watch this last one, now, sir.

Never mind, never mind!

-Oh, shh! -I can manage fine!

Fine.

Let's find that blasted steward.

Mr. Bullen?!

Bullen?!

Well, he promised biscuits and punch.

Indeed, you said, for the President's departure.

-For the President's departure. -Ah, you mentioned.

Mr. Bullen?

Bullen?!

Bullen? Bullen?!

We're sure to find him dozing away, bloated with drink,

his chins all covered in biscuit crumbs!

Aye, a good steward does have a tendency toward distraction.

-Bullen?! -Mister--

Oh, my.

Is he dead?

Mr. Lincoln.

Blessings.

God bless you, sir.

He is here!

I'll write a letter to his wife.

Miss?

Did I hear something about biscuits and punch?

I believe the matron is seeing to the refreshments, Mister...

Pinkerton.

Union Intelligence.

Yes, miss, that Pinkerton.

Oh.

Pickleton-- Ought I to know him?

-I'm as good as done. -He could at least remove his hat.

Gonna ship me off to the Minnesota Territories.

They eat moose there, you know-- Vikings.

Redeem yourself with Foster.

Redeem myself how?

You must reveal to him, as the President might put it,

the better angel of your nature.

The better what of my what?

Oh, do I have one of those?

The steward's been gutted!

Come in.

Frank?

Oh. Frank, I did it.

I swore my oath.

Oh, they're such good, committed people, the Knights.

And they have wonderful plans for the future

and truly believe a girl like me...

Frank?

Did someone die?

No.

Someone didn't.

Praise the Lord, he's breathing.

Mr. Bullen, can you speak?

-He seems to be in collapse. -Who'd have done such a thing?

A number of people come to mind.

The wound is deep, but the kidney seems to have been spared.

He's a good Catholic, he is.

You must save our dear Mr. Bullen.

The intestine might be nicked.

I've seen it with a bullet wound.

-Well, fix it, then. -Yes, Dr. Hale, fix it.

Uh...

Well, we'd have to pull the intestine out, I think.

Pull it-- Pull it out of his body?

Yes, to find the cut and repair it.

And then we-- we put it back in and close him up.

Have you done that before?

-Yes, once. -Very well.

But not here. We need instruments and more light.

I'll fetch men with a stretcher.

Can he be revived?

Dr. Hale has seen far worse and lived to tell the tale.

I'm sure Hale has.

The question is, have his patients?

Be a much more humane procedure with chloroform.

True, but if ever a man was deserving of additional agony...

Oh, forgive me. Private thought.

This tunnel will be discovered, Frank.

You must run.

Where to?

I can't leave now-- not with so much to be done.

Is that why? Or is it because you can't bear to leave Emma?

I see a way out of this.

Oh!

Oh!

Frank?

Hit me-- hard.

I don't understand.

Consider this your first mission to subvert the Union.

Hit me, Alice.

Or haven't you the courage?

All right, quickly. One, two, three.

-Oh! -We'll do it here.

-You, girl, some assistance. -Yes, Miss Hastings.

We'll need ether, immediately.

So now you believe in anesthesia?

Upon solitary contemplation,

I admit to having been extreme in my prior views on pain.

See, Foster, he's trying.

Miss Green, silk, curved needles, tenacula,

forceps, sponges, scalpels--

-now, please. -Tenacula?

Just tend to the bed and leave the proper nursing to me.

Is this the stabbing victim?

Who are you, sir?

Pinkerton, Intelligence Service.

Yes, that Pinkerton.

Yes, yes, of course! The famed detective.

You know the one, Dr. Foster-- he never sleeps.

Isn't that so, Detective? You never sleep.

It's actually "We never sleep."

Bromide of potassium, may cause impaired motion,

diminishment of power, and loss of sexual appetite,

but you'll be out like a light.

A murder during a presidential visit is cause for concern.

Let's hope it's an attempted murder.

In any event, I'd like to question this man.

He is not fit to be interrogated.

I'll wait. And watch.

Biscuits and punch coming right up!

Besides being a pompous policeman

with a sleep condition, who is he?

He works for McClellan and Lincoln--

a direct line to the top.

Out then in.

And under my command.

There it goes...

my desk in Washington City.

Who did this to you?

Scoundrels broke in.

I didn't get a good look.

Poor thing. I found him crying on the floor.

I can't imagine what they wanted.

My, they've done quite a job.

Yes.

Those boys were merciless.

All right, I'll need bandages and sponges.

Why didn't you meet me...

at the tree spot?

I'm sorry, Frank.

There was urgent business here. I had to remain.

This wouldn't have happened if you kept your promise.

Frank would have been with you.

I stayed because I was trying to help Father.

I don't see what that has to do with

some scoundrels beating Frank.

I'll fetch those dressings.

I can't keep lying to her.

She doesn't understand, Frank.

Not like we do.

Stick to the plan.

"Dear Mrs. Starks...

This morning, your husband, Phillip,

faced his maker with all his might,

thinking only of you.

I share this to reassure you that his devotion was constant,

and that even the thought of you and the love you shared

eased him in his final moments.

I hope you may carry this with you

in the life you have before you."

No.

Nothing. You?

-No, all clear. -Moving on, then.

Delicately.

Miss Hastings, rinse, please.

Water.

More ether. Can't you hear him moaning?

Be sure to wash away any fecal matter, Miss Hastings.

-Hmm. -Mind you, be quick, gentlemen.

My future hangs in the balance.

I would say that is somewhat truer

for Mr. Bullen than for you.

On the contrary, he faces fleeting death.

I face an eternity of exile and humiliation.

Save this man.

Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes! The forceps, please.

Aha.

A minute nick in the small intestine, just as we suspected.

Dr. Foster, I would be honored to perform the procedure,

under your supervision, of course.

Go on, Foster.

He's got excellent hands. I can vouch for that.

Will you be using Reybard's technique or Lembert's?