CRANE: There have been many theories floating around regarding the proper combination to this box, but it seems one stands out clearer than the rest. Thanks in no small part to Mr. Nygma himself. Four, eight, seven, four. I guess there’s no time like the present. Four (beep) Eight (beep) Seven (beep) Four (beep). Hm. Nothing. (click) Oh. Wait. (unfolds paper) You were so close. Well what the hell does that mean? Oh – now what’s this. (winding of a key)

(“Hush Little Baby” begins to play on a music box)

CRANE: Son of a bitch. I know where I need to go. I will update you as soon as I am able, but I must prepare. This is going to prove more – difficult than I had anticipated.