All language subtitles for S04E04 - Wisteria Lodge

Oh, girls, what'd you want?

Mr. Scott Eccles.

Oh, Mr. Garcia.

I'm sorry I did not
recognize you at once.

Please allow me to
carry your case.

That's very civil of you.
Thank you very much.

I'm sorry if the weather
has been unkind for your visit.

Unkind for you perhaps
but we British, you know,

we're hardy souls.

The county of Surrey is
particularly interesting...

I'm looking forward to showing you
my entire collection of Surrey maps.

I mean there's Moule and Ogilby.
I got one or two here I can show you.

He used to draw.

This is your house is it?

Yes. Please. You are welcome.

It's very nice. Very nice.

I suppose Watson we must look upon
you as a man of letters.

How do you define
the word grotesque?

Grotesque.

Strange. Remarkable.

No, no, no, no. Surely there's
more to it than that.

Some underlying suggestion
of a tragic or terrible.

If you cast your mind
back to those narratives

with which you've inflicted
a long-suffering public

you will see how often
the word grotesque

has deepened into the criminal.

I suppose the affair of
the redheaded men

was grotesque enough at the outset.

Most grotesque affair
of the five orange pips.

Yes, which led straight
to a murderous conspiracy.

Now the word puts me on the alert.

Have you it there?

I've just had the most incredible
and grotesque experience.

May I consult you Scott Eccles?

Post Office, Charring Cross.

A man or woman?

A man.

No woman would send a reply-paid
telegram. She would have come.

Will you see him?

Oh my dear Watson,

you know how bored I've been

since we locked up
Colonel Carruthers.

Life is commonplace.

The newspapers are sterile

audacity and romance seem to have
passed forever from the criminal world.

Of course I'll see him.

Unless I'm very much mistaken,
this is our client.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Well are you Mr. Holmes?

Yes, Mr. Holmes,
I have just had a most singular

and unpleasant experience.

No way in my life have I been
subject to... to such embarrassment

and been placed in such a position.

Please sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles,
my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.

In the first place, my I ask,
why you have came to me at all?

Well, sin it didn't appear to be
a matter which concerned the police,

yet, when you've heard the facts,

you must admit I couldn't
just leave it where it was.

Now the private detectives they are
a class with whom I'm absolutely,

I have no sympathy.

Sit, Mr. Scott Eccles.

Nonetheless, having heard
your name...

Watson!

Now in the second place,
why did you not come to me at once?

What do you mean?

Well it is now a quarter-past two.

Your telegram was
dispatched about one.

No one could glance at
your toilet and attire

without seeing that your disturbance
dates from the moment of your waking.

But you're right, Mr. Holmes.

Yet I never gave a
thought to my toilet.

I was only too glad to
get out of such a house.

Oh no, no thank you.

You see but I have been running round
making inquiries before I came here.

I called the house
agents, you know, oh yes,

yes, and they said, they said that
Mr. Garcia's rent was paid up all right

and that everything was in
order in Wisteria Lodge.

Then they you'll come,
come, sir Eccles.

You know you're like
my friend, Watson,

who has the bad habit of telling
his stories wrong end foremost.

Now please, please
arrange your thoughts

and let me know, in
their due sequence,

exactly what those events are,

which have sent you out
unbrushed and unkempt

with your dress boots and
waistcoat buttoned awry,

in search of advice
and assistance.

Well I'm a bachelor
and being of a sociable turn

I cultivate a large
number of friends.

At the table of one of them recently,
I met a young fellow named Garcia,

a pleasant chap of Spanish decent,

connected in some way
with the Embassy.

We discovered a common
interest in cartography

or so I thought,
that's the study of old maps.

The plan was to retrace
Surrey as Thomas Mould

engraved it some fifty years ago.

Well as soon as I arrived
yesterday evening.

I knew something was wrong.
The atmosphere of the place,

the house was tumbledown,
depressing

Garcia told me he
had a wonderful cook,

a half breed he had
picked up on his travels

but the dinner,
well it was so ill-prepared

and served with such bad grace
that it was barely edible.

I can assure you that there were many
times in the course of the evening.

I wished I could have invented
some excuse to leave.

What did you say?

Well the route is fascinating.
John Rogglbe.

Across the heathland?

Wasn't just the health
and it was all over the county,

I say, you feeling all right?

Yes. Sorry.

Luis, Luis.
Some more wine for our guest.

Yes.

Are we expecting company?

I would like a drink of
that if it's possible.

And he made no remark
as to the contents of the note?

None.

But for that moment he gave up
all pretence at conversation.

He just sat there smoking
these endless cigarettes.

About eleven I was
glad to go to bed.

Two hours later
he looked in at my door.

Did you ring?

Did I ring?

Awe, please don't wake up
it's nearly one o'clock.

Please go back to sleep.
Good night.

And now I come to the
amazing part of my tale.

When I woke it was broad daylight,
nearly nine.

I had particularly asked
to be called at eight,

so I was very much astonished
at this forgetfulness.

I say is anybody here?
I'd like some hot water.

I rang for the servant.
There was no response.

Somebody?

I say is there a
servant available.

This is damnable.

I went from room to room,
all were deserted.

Even my host room,
the bed had never been slept in.

Foreign host, foreign footman,

foreign cook,
all vanished in the night.

Your experience is so far as I know,
perfectly unique.

Now what else can you tell me?

Well, I was furious.

I packed my bags and I banged
the front door behind me

and I set out for Esher.

Then I called at Allan
Brothers', the land agents,

and found it was from them
that the villa had been rented.

Rented?

Well you see, I couldn't believe

that they had gone simply
to make a fool of me.

I thought, you know, it must be
the rent but I was wrong.

See the agent thanked me
for my warning

but said that the rent
had been paid in advance.

By the Spanish embassy I imagine?

I called at the Spanish embassy.
The man is unknown to them.

I also asked my friend
who introduced us

and he seemed to know less
about Garcia than I did.

Now, this house,

Wisteria Lodge.

I wonder if it's still as you left it.

What's troubling you, Watson?

Well I fear some mundane
explanation of the events

may await us upon our arrival.

It's possible.
We can thank our lucky fate,

which will rescue
us for a few hours

from the insufferable
fatigues of idleness.

This gentleman recommends
the Bull in the village,

that's if we're to stay overnight.

I asked him if he knew Garcia
or his servants.

Did he?

No.

Nothing unusual about the outside.

Let's see what the
interior holds for us.

I don't suppose we could be charged
with housebreaking can we?

Who on earth could
leave such a mess?

Yes indeed.

Take a glance around
the house, Watson.

Mr. Holmes?

Welcome to Wisteria
Lodge, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector Baynes of the
Surrey Constabulary.

This is Constable Downing.

And you are Mr. John Scott Eccles
of Popham House, Lee?

I am.

Mr. Scott Eccles, we've been following
you about all the morning.

You traced him through
his telegram, I presume?

Exactly, Mr. Holmes.

We picked up the scent
at Charring Cross Post-Office.

But what'd you want?

And why did you follow me?

We wish a statement,
Mr. Scott Eccles,

as to the events which
led up to the death of

Mr. Aloysius Garcia
of Wisteria Lodge

near Esher.

Dead did you say?

Oh yes sir, he is dead. Yes.

But how? An accident?

Murder, sir, if ever
there was one on earth.

God! This is awful!

You don't mean that I'm suspected?

Well, sir, your note was found
on the dead man's body

and from it we learned that
you had planned to stay here

in this house last night.

So I did.

Oh, you did, did you?

Wait,

Baynes, I mean surely all you
need is a simple statement.

Yes, Mr. Holmes, but it is my duty
to warn Mr. Scott Eccles

that it may be used against him.

Awe, this is my fellow colleague,
Dr. Watson, Inspector Baynes.

Doctor your attention.

Mr. Scott Eccles you look as if
you could do with a drink,

I found some brandy in
the library if you think...

Thank you.

Well I can assure you,
Inspector that, you know,

every word I've said
it is the truth.

I'm bound to say,
Mr. Scott Eccles,

that everything you've said

does agree with the facts
as they've come to our notice.

For example, the note that
arrived during dinner.

Mr. Scott Eccles what
became of the note?

Well, Garcia rolled it up
and threw it in the fire.

What do you say to that, Baynes?

It was a dog-grate Mr. Holmes,
he over pitched it.

I found this unburned of the back.

You must have made a very careful

examination of the house
to find a single pellet of paper.

Oh, I did, Mr. Holmes, I did.

It's my way.

The note is written on ordinary
cream-laid paper with a watermark,

It's a quarter-sheet.

The paper's cut off in two snips
with a short-bladed scissors.

It's been folded twice
and sealed with scarlet wax.

It's addressed to Mr. Garcia,
Wisteria Lodge, and it says

"Our own colors, green and white."

"Green open, white shut,"

"main stairs, first corridor,"

"seventh right, green baize."

"Godspeed. D"

It's in a woman's writing done
with a very sharp-pointed pen

but the address is either
done with a different pen

or by someone else

because it's thicker and bolder,
as you may see, Mr. Holmes.

It's a remarkable note.

I really must congratulate you
on your attention to detail.

There are a few trifling points
which might perhaps be added.

The seal is a sleeve-link
what else is of such a shape?

The scissors were
bent nail scissors.

Short as the two snips are,

you can distinctly see
the same slight curve in each.

I thought I had squeezed
it dry, Mr. Holmes,

but I see there was some
still left over after all.

I'm bound to say that
I make nothing of the note

except that there's something's
on hand and a woman, as usual

is at the bottom of it.

I'm very glad you found the note,
Inspector, because

it collaborates my story.

But, you know, I do
beg to point out

that I haven't yet heard
what has happened to Mr. Garcia,

or what has become
of his household.

As for Mr. Garcia,
that's easily answered,

he was found dead
on Oxshott Common this morning.

His head had been beaten
to a pulp by a sandbag

or some such object,

which had crushed
rather than wounded.

Apparently he'd been first
struck down from behind,

but his assailant went on
beating him long after he was dead.

It was a very furious assault.

Awe, I mean this activity that we saw
has to be approached at the highest.

Were there any footsteps
or clues as to the criminal?

No, no, as yet.

Had Garcia been robbed?

No. No sign of robbery.

Well our tenants seem to have left
little or nothing behind them.

Apart from the clothes,

some pipes, a few novels
two of them in Spanish.

One of them is missing.

Yeah. We might assume the
"G" stands for Garcia.

Family heirloom perhaps.

The other was not on the body nor
has it been found in the vicinity

though my men are still looking.
Do you wish to look around the house?

A brief look.

Holmes!

Holmes!

Holmes!

Watson!

What have you seen?

Could have been the
devil for all I know.

Staring eyes at the window.

Negroid features, mulatto like.
It's got away across the field.

Maybe just as well. I don't think
I could have laid hands on him.

Awe, look at this.

If he is all the same
scale as his foot

then he is certainly a giant.

Well whoever he was, whatever he
wanted he's gone for the present,

and we have more important
things to attend to.

Downing, you stay here.

And you sir shall come
to the station with me.

And let me have a written statement.

Yes certainly I'd come at once.

I hope you don't my collaborating
with you Inspector.

I'd be honored, Mr. Holmes.
I'd be honored.

Inspector, is there any clue as to
the exact hour of the man's death?

One o'clock.

It rained about that time and the death
certainly occurred before the rain.

No, no, no. That's perfectly
impossible, Mr. Baynes.

No, no, his voice is
very unmistakable.

I could swear to it that it was
he who addressed me in my room

at that very hour.

Well he spoke to me, you know,
in that funny accent of his.

He said "Is
nearly one o'clock".

Remarkable but we must not confuse
the unlikely with the impossible.

What does he mean of that?

Certainly some strange people occupy
that house, Mr. Holmes.

One of them is dead.

Did some of his companions
follow him and murder him?

If so, we should have them
for every port is watched

but my views are
different, Mr. Holmes.

Yes sir, my views
are very different.

You have a theory?

And I'll work it myself,
Mr. Holmes.

Your name is already made,
I have yet to make mine

and I shall like to be
able to say afterwards,

that I solved it
without your help.

Then you do follow your path
and I will follow mine.

Goodbye, Mr. Scott Eccles.

Scott Eccles.

Let us consider this note.

Is there a woman involved?
A jealous husband?

"Godspeed." "Godspeed, D."
Now, that must be our guide.

The man was a Spaniard, I suggest
that the "D" stands for Delores.

It's a common female name in Spain.

A Spaniard would write to a Spaniard
in Spanish. Watson.

Henderson, High Gable,
George Ffolliott.

Mr. Holmes?

Look what I've found.

In the bush.

Excellent

I'm terribly sorry.
I've seemed to have...

You are trespassing.

I'm terribly sorry I've seemed to
have lost my direction.

Is it your custom to wander...

Awe, Doctor Wakefield

my friend and fellow cartographer.

Yes indeed.

You were so engrossed in
trying to chase the bridle path

to a now vanished Hamlet
of Ogmore St. Mary.

That we mislaid each other.

And since we're late for
Mr. Henderson, I thought,

I'm so glad you
found your way here.

Well I very much regret that

Mr. Henderson is too
busy to see you today.

No Lucas, I will see them.

Gentlemen.

The purpose of our visit is to inquire

into the history of High Gable,

which we believe has an
intriguing and blood tested past,

since the days of the
English civil war.

I would have no
knowledge of that.

I'm only a recent invader.

But there are local
records in the library.

There are no records of
any past found in this house.

I see.

Then I will detain you no more.

Good day.

I thought you were in London.

For the morning only.

Well with your usual reluctance
to confide your thoughts to me.

I exercised my own
mind in the matter.

You'd circled two names on your
list. Henderson and High Gable.

Well the others are,
per say, respectable people.

Far aloof from romance

but this man, Henderson,
but he's a very singular creation.

Yes indeed.

As you may have noticed...
No tea for me.

The house is double winged. One side
the servants the other side the family.

There is one single connecting door
for the Henderson family meals.

I'm sure you couldn't have observed all
all that in the short time we were there, Holmes.

Nobody's instruments for gossip and

discharged servants and I was
lucky to enough to find one

who had been sacked

by his imperious master Henderson
and a victim of violent temper.

Now the Henderson girls who we
encountered, have a governess.

A Miss Burnet, an English woman.
Here is the very singular fact.

She has not been seen
since the night of the murder.

She has utterly vanished.

I've seen her.

Of course, I've seen her
and she is alive.

I saw her at the
window at High Gable.

My God a prisoner.

She slipped my mind.

The moment those awful
girls descended upon me.

She is alive, I've seen her.

That's the man I saw and chased.

Baynes has arrested the wrong man.

Now Watson, quickly,
we must stop him.

Is he the murderer?
Did he kill a Spaniard?

Where did you capture him?

This man is the murdered man's cook

who disappeared
on the night of the crime.

We believe there were valuables
left in the house

and that there abstraction
was the motive.

The man had been seen in the vicinity
of the house once before.

The second time,

subdue him, Higgins, Blenkinsop...

The second time we let
a man escape for him

we shall be applying for remand

when the prisoner's
brought before the magistrate.

That will be all for now,
gentlemen. Thank you very much.

Was it on the way?

Where did you capture him?

Baynes, I am not convinced that
you're on the right line.

Mr. Holmes doesn't want you to commit
yourself too far unless you're sure.

Oh, you're very kind gentleman

but we did agree to work
on our own lines didn't we?

And that's what I'm doing.

You're welcome always to my news.

This fellow is as strong as
a carthorse and fierce as the devil.

He nearly bit off
Constable Downing's thumb

before they managed to master him.

He speaks hardly any English

and we can get nothing
out of him but grunts.

And you think that you have evidence
that he murdered his late master?

I didn't say so, Mr. Holmes.

I didn't say so.

We all have our own little ways.

You will go yours

and I will go mine.
That was the agreement.

So be it.

I think Baynes is riding for the fall.

I would have to agree with you there.

You appreciate our difficulty, Watson.

There's nothing upon which
we can apply for a warrant.

And with our worthy Inspector
making his arrests

our theory would seem fantastic
if laid before the magistrate.

Yet you think the lady's
in danger of her life?

Yes. I'm sure of it Watson,

therefore we must take the law
into our own hands.

Top left bay.

We could reach it
from that outhouse.

Run.

They're making for the station.
We'll follow the coach to London.

Right.

Stop the train. Stop the train.

Stop it.

Why, Mr. Holmes, you have given me
the very evidence I wanted.

We were both on the same
scent from the start.

Were you after Henderson too?

Quite so well, you first
and then Doctor Watson here

came crawling through
the under growth at High Gable,

I was up a tree observing you both.

It was just a question of
who got the evidence first.

Why did you arrest the mulatto?

Well I was sure that Henderson,
as he calls himself

felt he was suspected
and he would make no move

so long as he thought
he was in danger

so I arrested the wrong man.

You know you will rise high
in your profession, Inspector.

You have instinct and intuition.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes,

but we can't arrest without
Miss Burnet's evidence can we?

Oh she'll be able to give
you that in a moment but,

tell me who is this man, Henderson.

He's Don Murillo known as
the Tiger of San Pedro.

One of the most dangerous men
out of Central America.

Oh indeed. Most elude and
blood thirsty tyrant.

Who imposed his earliest vices upon a
caring people for almost twelve years.

Was it the San Pedro colors green and
white that first put you onto it?

That and my visit to London, to
the Spanish embassy in the foreign office.

Now please this is your case,
Inspector,

Five years ago
there was a rising against the tyrant

but it was an empty palace
they stormed on Murillo,

his secretary, two children
and all the wealth

had escaped by ship

and from that moment they disappeared
from the face of the earth.

His identity has been a subject of
constant comment in the European press.

We discovered him a year ago.

Miss Burnet?

How came you into this
matter Miss Burnet?

An English lady in such
a murderous affair.

Because there is no other way in the
world by which justice can be gained.

What does the law of England
care about the rivers of blood

shed so many years ago in San Pedro

or the shipload of treasure that
this man has stolen from us?

To you, they're like crimes
committed on some other planet.

We know.

My real name is
Senora Victor Durando.

My husband was the minister
of San Pedro in London.

He met and married me there.

A nobler man never lived
upon the earth.

Unhappily, Murillo heard of
his excellence

and recalled him on some pretext,

and shot him

by a stroke of... of premonition.

My husband had refused
to take me with him.

Then came the downfall of the monster.
He escaped as you have described.

But the many whose
lives he had ruined,

whose loved ones had suffered
torture and death at his hands

would not let the matter rest.
We banded ourselves into a society,

which should never be dissolved
until the work was done.

It was my part to attach
myself to his household

and keep the others in
touch with his movements.

I secured the position as governess.

He little knew that the woman
who faced him at every meal

was the woman whose husband
he had hurried to eternity.

I smiled on him,
did my duty to his children,

and bided my time.

An attempt was made
in Paris and failed.

We zigzagged here and
there swiftly over Europe

to throw off our pursuers and
finally returned to High Gable.

Garcia had been waiting there for nearly
a year with two trusted companions,

all fired with the same
reasons for revenge.

Who was Garcia?

The son of Fernando Garcia.

One of the former highest dignitaries
of San Pedro who was murdered...

like your husband.

This note you sent,
you say it was intercepted.

During the day
Murillo took every precaution

and never went outside
without his satellite Lucas.

Even at night the man
was forever on the alert

and continually changed his room.

We had arranged that I would
send Garcia final instructions.

The doors would be opened

and the signal of a green or
white light' in a win do W

which faced the drive, was to
give notice if all was safe

or if the attempt had
better be postponed.

To whom are you
writing this letter?

Which describes the room in which
I intend to sleep tonight.

Who is your confederate?

Who is your confederate?

What is your real
name Miss Burnet?

My name is Durando.

Durando's widow.

You can kill me now

what is my life worth you have
destroyed everything that I love.

Who are you writing to? Tell me.

Senora Durando? Who?

It's a name you fear,
He's waiting for you.

He's Garcia.

Garcia?

Wisteria Lodge.

He is waiting to dispatch you
to hell. You fiend.

I knew the boy well.

His father was once
my dearest friend.

You murdered him.

He betrayed me

and so did your husband.

And now they send
the wives and sons.

Will you never learn?

I am indestructible.

At first they were of a mind
to let him into the house

and kill him as a detected burglar

but they feared the inquiry
might publicly expose them.

Garcia, some day justice will come.

That is as certain as
the rise of tomorrow's sun.

I have no doubt that my life too
hung in the balance.

Most of the time I was
confined to my room.

Terrorized by the most horrible
threats to break my spirit.

Occasionally I was allowed out

but only when they had
first drugged my food

and it was at this state that
you found me at the station.

And thanks to this good man.

I am beyond their power forever.

Well Inspector, our police work is
done but our legal work begins.

Exactly, Mr. Holmes, yes.
Garcia's death

in the hands of a portable lawyer
could look like an act of self-defense.

But I think better of the law than that.

Self-defense is one thing but
to entice a man in cold-blood

with the object of murdering
him is another.

Whatever danger you fear from him.

I think we shall justice done
at the next...

I thought you had
released the mulatto.

Yes sir, he's a free man again.

And your man is with the
fugitives on the train?

He is, sir, yes, and
I've wired Scotland Yard

to have their men at Waterloo
Station to receive them, yes.

You know I really must
congratulate, Inspector.

Your powers, if I may so, without offense,
are superior to your opportunities.

Your right, Mr. Holmes.

In the province as we stagnate
a case like this gives a man a chance.