All language subtitles for 06 Sherlock Holmes Faces Death English

06 Sherlock Holmes Faces Death English

Hurry up, lads.

Drink up.
Five minutes to closing time.

Come on now. Drink your beers.

My that's a pity.
Five minutes closing time?

Five minutes to closing time.

Hello sweetheart.

Here's for the tune, eh.

Here, you're rotten luck,
that's what you are.

Hey, you hurt bad, mate?
Let's have a look at it.

- Blimey.
- Ah, what can I get you, lad?

- Mother's Ruin.
- Make mine the same.

It'll cost you two bob
for the broken glass, Matey?

What's the idea anyway letting a beast like
that fly around loose in a public house?

You didn't ought to let him
smell the blood.

He's very fond of blood,
Charlie is.

Hmm. Comes by his taste
natural if you ask me.

- Nobody's asking you, Miss.
- Oh.

Where's he from?

Musgrave Manor.

What is this Musgrave Manor,
a blinking prison?

That ain't the worst
it's been called

not that I want to go about
spreading stories

but we knows what we knows,

don't we Charlie?

Blimey.

Where is this Musgrave Manor?

Down the road apiece.

You'll see it when you past
the old iron gates.

Only don't loiter,
you won't be welcome

not by the Musgraves.

Been sitting there.

Lords of the manor
ever since time was.

If those old walls could speak

they'd tell you things that
raise the hair on your head.

There's folks hereabouts

swear they seen corpse lights

round the old greenhouse

and heard 'em wailing

like lost souls
in the lime rock.

Yeah, you want no part of it.

Nor the Musgraves neither,

hard men,

like them as was before them,

cruel men.

God pity 'em
for the day is coming

when they'll need pity.

I don't think you're being
quite fair, Geoffrey

I assure you
I have no wish to be fair.

Hmm.

An excellent specimen
of the Copris Carolina.

You are a sweet old soul,
aren't you?

I have no wish
to be a sweet old soul,

no wish to be anything
but what I am

a disagreeable person
who does not intend

to let his sister run off with
the first cock-sure Yankee

who makes her posies jump.

And I suppose Philip
feels the same way about it?

Well, Philip has no choice
in the matter.

As my younger brother,

Phillip feels precisely
as I tell him to.

Eaves dropping again, Brunton?

Oh, no, Mr. Phillip.
I assure you.

But I didn't wish
to disturb them.

What did you hear, Brunton?

Your brother and Miss Sally

were going at it
hammer and tongues

about Captain Vickery, I mean.

Really?

Mr. Geoffrey and Captain Vickery

had an horrible row
this afternoon over Miss Sally.

I thought they were
coming to blows.

Indeed I did.

Quiet.
That will do now, Brunton.

If I catch you snooping again

- I shall ask my brother to give you notice.
- Yes, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Your not above a bit of snooping
yourself are you Phillip?

Not in the least, old boy.

Brunton.

Oh, there you are.

I've been ringing for you.

Sorry, Dr. Watson.

I was in the upper regions.

The library's in a filthy mess.

The wind came swishing
down the chimney

and scattered the ashes
everywhere.

Very well. I'll tidy it up
at once, doctor.

Room full of smoke,
papers all over the floor.

Foul night, Brunton.

It's customary in Hurlstone, sir.

Just the sort of night I'd fancy
for the ghost of Lady Torinda.

Oh no, Dr. Watson.

Lady Torinda only
walks in the west wing.

No one ever met a ghost
in this part of the house.

Oh really?
Isn't there some story...

Oh, there was a
housemaid claimed

that she saw Sir Gervis Musgrave

with his head on backwards
in this very room.

Good gracious me.

Well, she was just a
flighty girl, sir.

It sounds like it...
very flighty.

Most.

Head on backwards,
what a bunch of rubbish.

I say, Brunton, does the wind
always carry on like this here?

Frequently sir.

It's a great pity.

It makes the gentlemen restless

more than usual I mean.

Well, our patients are all
tucked up for the night now,

hey Brunton?

- Are they?
- Of course, of course.

Well, aren't they?

Captain Vickery
isn't in his room, sir,

and it looked like Major Langford
I saw going toward the pool.

And I can't account for
Lieutenant Clavering.

Oh, really? That's very odd.

Very odd, sir.

Anything else, sir.

No, thank you. Oh, yes, yes.

You might tell Dr. Sexton

that I'd like to see him
for a minute, will you?

Very good, sir.

- Good night, sir.
- Good night, Brunton.

Doctor!

Get him up and let's get
him in this chair over here.

Sorry.

I'm awfully sorry.

- Get my bag, Brunton.
- Yes, sir.

Now, let's have a look.

Yes, near thing
just missed the carotid artery.

Looks like a knife wound.

Here you are, sir.

It's like a nightmare.

Give me some of that
cotton and bottle, will you.

- Awful nuisance.
- Oh, now, old fellow, we'll have you patched up in no time.

You'll be as good as new.

What happened?

I... I don't know.

It was in Lime Walk just now.

I was coming up
from the village.

I remember distinctly

I was approaching
the greenhouse.

The wind was terrific.

I had to fight my way.

I hadn't the slightest warning.

All I know is that

he struck and then I went down.

He must have thought
that I was done for.

- Any idea who it was?
- No.

- Well, that is I...
- Yes, yes.

Really I...

I haven't any right.

You have every right,
Dr. Sexton.

As head of this house,

I shall arrange for an
immediate investigation.

I'd rather not
if you don't mind, sir.

Dr. Sexton,

the fact that my
brother and sister and I

have opened our home
to convalescent patients

doesn't relieve us of all
responsibility for what occurs in it.

I mean, under the
peculiar circumstances.

Oh, come along, Bob.
There's no need to shield anyone.

Thirteen.

Thirteen, that's curious.

What's got into the old clock?

Nothing, nothing at all.

Oh, sir.

Don't you remember
the last time it did that

your father was killed
the next day?

Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes.

Mr. Holmes.

Oh, Mr. Holmes, I...
Oh I... oh...

A purely scientific experiment,
Mrs. Hudson.

Oh, frightening the wits
out of honest people.

Permit me, ma'am.

Oh dear,

so now it's bullet holes
in me plaster.

Oh, Mr. Holmes,
this is the last straw.

The last straw, Mrs. Hudson,

the one which breaks the back of
the case against Jacob Dillery.

It proves beyond
a shadow of doubt that

even bound as he claims he was

he could still have fired the
shot in his own defence

that killed his wife's lover.

But shooting holes
in my beautiful plaster.

Shh.

Come in, Watson.

My dear fellow,
I'm glad to find you in.

I didn't even knock.

How did you know it was me... I?

Me is acceptable, Watson,

unless, of course,
you're a purist, which I doubt,

and may I add that your step
is like no other in London.

You're just in time
for breakfast.

Good, I rather counted on that.

Mrs. Hudson, dear, how are you?

Oh, it's good to
see you again, sir.

I think they'll be enough
there for two.

Splendid.

You're a sight for sore eyes,
Watson.

Thanks, old boy, and so are you.

- Sit down.
- Good, thank you.

All right let's have it.

What brings you from
Northumberland at this early hour?

Bad business, Holmes,
very bad business.

How did you know that I
came from Northumberland?

Elementary, my dear Watson.

You're overnight bag carried
the fresh Houston label.

The only train arriving at
Houston Station at this hour

is the New Castle Express
from Northumberland.

Ergo this night, thou
cometh from Northumberland.

- Of course. Obvious, isn't it?
- Quite.

Now tell me,

what dark deed was done at
Hurlstone Towers last night?

Well, that's what I came
to see you about, Holmes.

About ten o'clock last night
I was sitting in the lib...

How did you know that
I came from Hurlstone?

You wrote me that
you volunteered

for medical service
within the realm.

With your experience

what post could have been
offered to you

other than to put you in charge of
a home of convalescent officers?

Only one such home
has been opened

in Northumberland
in the last month

and that's Musgrave Manor
at Hurlstone.

Simple reasoning,

a child could do it.

- Not your child, Watson.
- No, of course...

What? I never had a child.

I very nearly did though.

Did I ever tell you about
that widow at Twickenham?

A very narrow escape.

I just found out in time

that she had the most horrible little
squirt about three and a half.

Yes, Watson. I think we better
stick to Hurlstone.

Oh, sorry, old boy?
Oh Hurlstone.

It's a grim old pile,
very spooky.

Don't tell me that
you met a ghost.

Well, not so spooky as that.

Ghosts don't stab people
in the neck do they?

Or do they?

Not well-bred ghosts, Watson.

Who was stabbed in the neck?

My young assistant, Dr. Sexton.

- When?
- Last night.

Any idea who did it?

I have no idea.

- You reported it?
- Well, no, no I didn't.

Why not?

Well you see is it...

My dear fellow,
what you're trying to say is

the officers in your care
are all fine fellows,

wonderful war records
and so on. Is that it?

Precisely.

- So you thought perhaps a private investigation.
- Exactly.

Very right and proper thinking,
Watson.

We're just in time to catch the
nine thirty train for Hurlstone.

- But my dear fellow, there's no immediate hurry.
- Isn't there?

Your patients are all
victims of combat fatigue.

Any one of them might go
over the edge at any moment

and from what you've told me

there's a killer loose
at Hurlstone.

Great Scott, you may be right.

Come along, Watson.
We haven't a moment to lose.

I only hope we shan't
be too late.

You were right, Watson,
about Musgrave Manor.

Houses like people
have definite personalities

and this place is
positively ghoulish.

It certainly is.

Hello.

What's that?

- Just the old greenhouse.
- No, no, that pile of leaves.

Just an ordinary
pile of leaves. Why?

Doesn't it strike you
as odd, Watson,

that a pile of leaves
should be raked up

in front of a greenhouse door?

No gardener in the world
would do that.

Geoffrey Musgrave.

That's all very interesting,
Inspector Lestrade,

but what, may I ask,
does it prove?

What I'm trying to prove
is this,

- that Dr. Sexton here went down...
- That's twice now, inspector.

- He was stunned.
- Naturally.

He went out longer
than you thought.

- That's the point.
- What point?

Just this.

The man who attacked him had
time to get back in the house

- before Dr. Sexton here came to.
- Yes?

Yes.

And this here glove...

Oh, and this here glove

what I picked up at
the scene of the crime,

belongs to a certain party
right here in this house.

I say.

- Well that glove belongs to my brother.
- Huh?

Do you suggest that he
intended to murder Dr. Sexton?

Who knows?

The man whose hand
fits this here glove

will bear a talking to.

Very well. My brother's
down at the stables.

- I'll take you to him myself.
- Thank you.

It's the quickest way to put a
stop to this blithering nonsense.

Come on.

Oh, Mr. Phillip, - Yes.

Better not go out in
the night air without a coat.

- Here, take mine.
- Thanks.

Well, I won't need this.

No, oh, nor this.

Well, shall we go?

Why if it ain't Mr. Holmes?

Good evening, Lestrade.

Come to give us a hand,
have you?

Always happy to help, inspector.

Thanks but I don't think
I shall be needing any.

Why if it isn't Dr. Watson.

Gentlemen, this is my friend,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Mr. Phillip Musgrave
and Dr. Sexton.

- How do you do?
- How do you do.

I'll just put him up to
spend a few days with us.

That's very good of you

but as you see Scotland Yard's
already taken charge.

Oh really?
That's most unfortunate.

If you don't mind, Dr. Watson,

I'd like to have a little talk
with your brother, sir.

- I'm afraid you can't have that pleasure, inspector.
- Oh no?

I've got bad news for you,
Mr. Musgrave.

We've just found your brother
in the lime walk.

He's dead.

You can't mean it.

No.

Look here, Holmes, if this is
one of your little jokes.

Murder's no joke, inspector.

That's right, Mr. Holmes.
Nobody's saying it ain't.

Murder? Well let's get going.

- I'll take charge now.
- What?

But it's quite within my rights
as a local justice of the peace.

I'll come with you.

Wait a minute, you fool.

Don't go barging in like that.

Don't maul me.

Surgical instruments.

You know Watson,
the instruments that save life

are hardly more pleasant to look
at than those that take it.

Hmm.

Grisly thought, Holmes.

You rang, Dr. Watson?

Yes, Brunton.

I want you to take some men
and go down to the lime walk.

Me, sir, well I can't sir.
I'm sorry but I simply can't.

My stomach, you know.

I really couldn't
look at a corpse.

- Corpse?
- Well I...

How did you know
that there was a corpse?

Obviously, he was listening
at the door.

I'll take care of
the matter, doctor.

I was listening too.

Come along, Brunton.

Remarkable woman.

Housekeeper, I suppose.

She's very efficient.

Same type as Marianne Carpenter,
the trunk murderess.

Extraordinary house.

Yes, it's is indeed.

Now Watson, if you don't mind

I'd like to have a word with
your extraordinary patients.

Let me remind you, Holmes,

that my patients are
just patients.

Quite so.

All normal men,
sound in mind and body

- and no sign of psychoneurosis.
- I quite understand.

Then Holmes even normal people
are sometimes a little...

Precisely.

Hello, Mack.

Oh, I must have taken a wee nap.

Mack, I want you to meet
a very old friend of mine,

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Captain Mackintosh.

How do you do?

I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes.

- Sorry to have wakened you.
- Oh, that's quite all right.

- See you later.
- Yes.

Sit down Mack and
go on with your sleep.

Poor chap. He lay wounded
in a trench on Josher Hill.

The German tanks went over him.

- Watson?
- Huh?

Have you any idea how
Jeffery Musgrave met his death?

Yes, a depressed skull fracture.

Wait, hang on a minute Holmes,
it isn't.

Isn't it? Why not?

- No edema, no bleeding, no contraction of tissue.
- Precisely.

The blow on the head
was delivered after death.

Musgrave was killed
by a sharp instrument

thrusted between the base of
the skull and the top vertebra.

Great Scott.

Should we go up now?

- Hello, Langford.
- Oh, hello there.

Been away, haven't you,
haven't you?

Yes, I just been down to London.
I brought my friend back.

This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Major Langford.

Well, see you at dinner.
What... what?

I hope so.

I hope so. I hope so.
Excuse me. Excuse me.

Poor chap was at Singapore,

escaped from a Japanese
prison camp,

ghastly experience.

- He's suffering from...
- Escape complex obviously.

Yes. He's a very nice
chap, though.

The next fellow
I want you to meet

is young Clavering,
Lieutenant Royal Engineers.

Saw a lot of men blown to bits
by Nazi booby traps.

- He's a bit on edge.
- Not unnaturally.

Coming.

Well, Dr. Watson.
Come in, won't you?

Sorry to keep you so long.

You see I, uh,

I was lying down, resting.

This is my friend, Mr. Holmes,
who's here for a few days.

Mr. Clavering.

- Glad to meet you.
- How do you do?

- Sorry to disturb you.
- Not at all.

I say, you don't happen to have

some cigarettes about you,
do you?

That's one of the reasons I came.
I brought you some of those

American cigarettes
that you're so fond of.

It's all right, open it up.

No hurry, no hurry at all.

No, no, no.
Of course there isn't.

Shall we go?

Yes, well we must be off.
We've got a lot to do.

- See you later.
- Yes, I'll be back.

Good night.

He seems afraid there might
be a bomb in that package.

Well he'd find them in
less likely places than that

the poor chap.

The man in this room is
an American Flying officer.

Captain Vickery, nothing
really much matter with him.

What's he here for then?

On a rest, had a pretty
long go and he's worn out.

He needs all the rest
he can get.

Vickery, Vickery.

He doesn't seem to be in.

No one at home.

Hmm.

Apparently not.

Not since teatime at any rate.

Hello, what's this?

"Captain Vickery,
here's your tea.

If it's cold don't blame me."

That sounds like Brunton's work.

The butler?

He fancies himself a poet
but only when he's drinking.

I see.

Wasn't there an American killer
given to verse?

- Holmes, you don't think that Brunton...
- Excuse me.

I merely stated

there's an American killer
given to verse.

Dr. Watson, oh where are you?

Oh, there you are.

Steady my dear, steady.

Please make me wake up,
won't you?

It's just a bad dream, I know,

- Geoff and Pat...
- Now, now, now, my dear.

You got to get a grip
on yourself.

Come on, come on, come sit down.

My brother, Geoff, murdered.

Poor old Geoff.

And I hadn't spoken to him since
we had the fight yesterday on Pat,

I mean, Captain Vickery's
account and now he's dead.

Now, now my dear you must
pull yourself together.

But you don't understand.

They're trying to say
that Pat...

they're trying to prove
that Pat killed Geoff.

- No, no, no.
- Yes.

Funny isn't it.

Awfully funny.

- Awfully funny, awfully funny!
- Stop it!

- Who are you?
- My name is Holmes.

- Sherlock Holmes?
- Yes.

Then you'll help us, won't you
Mr. Holmes, Pat and me.

I'll try to.

Now tell me,
wasn't there bad blood

between your brother,
Geoffrey and Captain Vickery?

That's got nothing
to do with it.

It may have everything
to do with it.

If you think Captain Vickery
ever murdered anyone

you're no more of a
detective than,

- than Dr. Watson.
- Oh, my dear.

Oh, I'm sorry.

You're very much in love,
aren't you?

I'm out of my mind, Mr. Holmes.

I'm out of my mind.

Oh, please forgive me
and please, please help me.

Of course, of course
I understand.

But you don't understand,

that appalling man from
Scotland Yard

is questioning Pat
at this very moment.

Now this here rake,

it's the identical one you got
from the garden this afternoon,

now ain't it?

It smells like it.

Hey what is this? Are you trying
to prove that Geoffrey Musgrave

was killed with a rake?

No, I'm try...

never mind
what I'm trying to prove.

Just incriminate yourself,
Captain Vickery.

That's all Lestrade wants.

I'll thank you to
keep out of this, Mr. Holmes.

This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

He's promised to help you, dear.

There's nothing to
worry about now.

Only his neck, miss.
Let me see your rake.

What do you say
you were using it for?

I told you. I got it to fish
my cap out of the pond.

It blew in.

Oh, so you were using it
down at the pond, were you?

For the tenth time, yes.

And how did it happen to turn up
alongside Musgrave's body, eh?

- I don't know.
- Uh-huh, Well that's that.

Oh, Mr. Holmes.

Any fingerprints
on the rake, inspector?

No, Mr. Holmes.
That's the point.

If Vickery here was only using
it to fish his hat out

well now he wouldn't bother to wipe
his fingerprints off now would he?

It's beyond imagination,
I suppose,

that somebody else
could have used the rake

and wiped off both sets
of fingerprints.

Highly interesting
but very unlikely.

Now you admit
that you had a regular set to

with Jeffrey Musgrave
yesterday, didn't you?

You threatened to
bash his head in.

I merely made the offer.
He didn't accept it.

- Who told you so?
- He did.

Oh, no, he did.

I only stated what I heard.

Captain Vickery did
threaten my brother.

That's right, Mr. Holmes and
it's no good saying it ain't.

This Yankee lad had
motive and opportunity

and the rake ties him
right up tight to the corpse.

All right. Come along.

Do you really think he
killed old Musgrave?

You know very well he didn't.

Stop clicking those needles.

- Oh, Pat.
- Take it easy, Sally.

Now look, don't worry a bit.

I'll tell you every thing's
gonna be all right.

Let's go, inspector.

Mr. Holmes.

Steady. Steady.

- Aren't you on our side?
- Yes, Sally.

Then why don't you do something.

Because Captain Vickery
will be much safer

in the local police station
tonight

than he would be in this house.

Oh, Mr. Holmes,
what am I going to do?

Watson, get your sedative.

I'll get it at once.

Come along, Sally.

She's a bit upset
but she'll get over it.

You think so?

She'll have to.

She's got an ordeal
ahead of her.

She has to go through
that tiresome ritual tomorrow.

Ritual?

This is an old family ceremony,
Mr. Holmes.

Sally's next in line now that
I'm head of the household.

Blast this thing.

Does this help?

Oh yes, thanks.

Knitting needle, isn't it?

Yes.

Handy little things.

As my heir. Sally has to
recite a sort of formula

over Geoff's body
in front of the fireplace

and the library in the presence
of the entire household.

There, that's better.

Just what sort of formula?

Oh, it's some meaningless words,

Musgrave ritual, they call it.

It's an old family custom been
handed down for generations.

- Can you remember the words?
- No, no, not at all.

But you had to speak them when
you're brother Geoffrey took over.

Yes, that's right, I did.

Let me see now.

"Who first shall find it
were better dead."

Who next shall find it
perils his head.

"The last to find it
defies dark powers."

"Who first shall find it
were better dead."

Who next shall find it
perils his head.

The last to find it
defies dark powers

and brings good fortune
to Hurlstone Towers.

Where was the light
on the face of the messenger?

Where did he speed?

To guard the queen's page.

Walked home in advanced
the bishop's page brashly

and who to repel,
the king's cautious page.

What then the...

disaster

"queen slaughter's page."

No, no. Sorry, Miss Sally.

"Page slaughters Page."

Thank you, Brunton.

"Who came then to slay him?"

The bloodthirsty bishop.

Where shall he go?

Deep down below.

Away from the thunder,

"let him dig under."

Once more into the breach,
dear friends,

once more.

Happy day.

You drunken sot.

The master's been ringing you
for the past ten minutes.

Why don't you answer it?

Fly away, little gremlin.

You're the one that'll fly away

if he ever catches you
in this state.

My sir, it's him. Hurry, hurry.

Coming, sir. Coming.

One moment, sir.

Mr. Holmes,
come in, sir, come in.

This is indeed an honour.

I don't often have visitors.

What can I do for you, sir?

You might stop that
squeaking to begin with.

Yes, sir.

And perhaps you can tell me
how you come to know

the Musgrave ritual by heart.

- Me, sir?
- Yes, you.

When Miss Sally forgot
the lines today

you were the one
who prompted her.

Well, sir I memorized it.

Obviously but why?

Because it has no meaning.

I love things
that have no meaning.

Thank you, Brunton.

But supposing it did
have a meaning

and suppose that meaning
were tied up

with a murder of
Geoffrey Musgrave.

Oh, what a lovely idea
if I may say so.

You may, Brunton.

You may also sit down.

Thank you, sir.

Oh stop it,

and look at me.

No, here.

You know the meaning
of the Musgrave ritual.

- Do I?
- Well, don't you?

You'd be surprised
at all the things I know.

What things?

- No you don't.
- About the Musgraves?

That would be telling.

But here's to them anyway

all the Musgraves
past and present,

some of 'em were murderers
and some of 'em worse

but they all knew
how to keep a secret

and so do I.

Brunton.

I've been ringing for you
for the past ten minutes.

Sorry, sir but the buzzer
doesn't buzz.

That'll do, Brunton.

You have your notice.
Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

Is that advisable, Mr. Musgrave?

Let me be the judge of that.

- He leaves Hurlstone in the morning.
- The morning's a long way off.

Farewell,

a long farewell
to all my greatness.

You've done it now, Al Brunton.

After all we've been through.

How could I of managed
to do it all alone?

What are you going to do?

What am I going to do?

Thirteen again.

Yes.

Howells whole attitude
confuses me, Watson.

She swears that she hasn't
set eyes on Brunton since night

and yet she seems completely
unwilling to help us find him.

Quite so, she knows where
he is as well as we do,

- I mean as well as we don't.
- I wonder.

You said that he was
drinking last night.

Wouldn't it be a good idea
to try the pub?

Exactly where we're
headed for, Watson.

I'm glad we thought of it

even if we don't find Brunton.

I was afraid we
couldn't find him here.

Don't worry, old boy.
I could do with a drink.

For your information so could I.

- Gentlemen.
- Well hello, doctor.

Not looking for us are you,
are you?

Well no. As a matter of fact
we're looking for...

Brunton.

You haven't seen him, have you?

Have we Clavering, have we?

Why should we?

- Morning, Gracie.
- Morning, doctor.

What do you have?

A bottle of Bass
and what's yours?

- A pint of bitter, please.
- And a pint of bitter.

I'm a devil. I'm a devil.

Oh really?

Hello. A tame raven.

You're a devil are you,
a kettle are you?

I'm a devil. I'm a devil.

Birds of prey, aren't they?

Yes, in a way,
scavengers rather.

They can smell a carcass
a half a mile off.

Yeah, that they can and all.

You should see Charlie here

when there's a tasty bit
outside in the street.

Shall we go sit down?

Gracie, have you seen
Dr. Watson?

- He's over there, lass.
- Thank you.

May I speak to you a moment,
Mr. Holmes?

- What's wrong, Sally?
- We can't find my brother Phillip.

Did you look in his room?

That's the trouble,
we had to force the door.

- It was locked on the inside.
- Really?

- Yes. Oh, you must come, Mr. Holmes.
- Certainly, Sally, at once.

Do be quick something ghastly
has happened. I know it.

And that dreadful bird,
please swat it away.

Watson, take her away.

Away, where to?

Anywhere. Into the pub.
Just take her away.

Phillip Musgrave.

What are they doing now,
doing now?

I don't know.
They stopped talking.

Somebody's walking about
in the upper hall,

heavy footsteps.

There's no doubt about it,
Watson.

Phillip Musgrave had a visitor
here last night.

These footprints were made
either by a very heavy man

or a man carrying
a very heavy burden.

That's right, Mr. Holmes.
It's no good saying it ain't.

The burden was
Phillip Musgrave's body

and these here footprints
were made by Alfred Brunton.

- It doesn't necessarily follow.
- Oh, don't it.

Here,
try that on your footprint.

And that's
Alfred Brunton's shoe.

- Fits perfectly, inspector.
- Uh-huh.

But the fact that these prints
were made by Brunton's shoes

doesn't prove that Brunton's
feet were in them.

Why not? Where should Brunton's
feet be if not in his own shoe?

Well they're not in them now,
are they?

- Look here, Holmes. Let's use our intellect.
- Your what?

What's wrong with that.

Let's stick to motive.
That's my strong point.

Now this here Brunton
had motive.

Phillip Musgrave gave
him the sack, didn't he?

Did Geoffrey Musgrave
also gave him the sack?

- What's that got to do with it?
- Everything.

The similarity of method
in both murders

shows they were the work
of one man.

Well that leaves Vickery out.

- He was in jail at the time of this murder.
- All right, Watson. All right.

Alfred Brunton's our man,
just what I said.

What possible motive
could Brunton have had

for the murder of
Geoffrey Musgrave?

Motive. Oh, bother motive.
Who cares about motive.

- This case is as simple as A, B, C.
- Is it?

Then perhaps you can
explain to us

why these footprints
lead up to a blank wall

and never return.

What?

You didn't think of that,
did you inspector?

- There's just one possible explanation.
- I've got it.

Brunton murdered Musgrave
right up against the wall.

He hoisted the body over
his shoulder like this you see,

walks backwards
clean out of the room...

That's a very undignified
position, Lestrade.

Upsy daisy.

In a house as old as this

it's not unusual to
find secret passageways

that lead down
through the walls.

Hello, here we are.

No you don't, Come out of there.

What are you doing in there?

- None of your business.
- Answer me.

Obviously, she was
looking for Brunton.

That's right.

He hasn't left Musgrave Manor.
I'm certain of that, sir.

His clothes are still hanging
in the wardrobe.

Don't you lie to me, woman.

You've got him hidden
in there somewhere.

Don't go in there?

Why not?

You'll get lost.

Me lost? Oh, I like that.

- He will get lost, sir.
- Let him.

Now listen to me.

Where did you enter
that passageway?

- Through the old greenhouse in lime walk, sir.
- Did Brunton know that?

- No, he didn't.
- Mrs. Brunton,

then why were you
looking for him in there?

We... I...

Yes, we've known all along that
you were married to Brunton.

- You know Phillip Musgrave was murdered, don't you?
- No.

- Yes, you do and you think Brunton did it.
- No.

- You think he carried him down through the greenhouse...
- No, no.

- Over to the garage...
- No, he never.

And crammed his body into the
rumble seat of that roadster.

Don't you try and
put the blame on Alfr...

I'll put the blame on
both of you.

You're in this together.

You were in his room last
night, I saw you there.

Only to talk about
the ritual, sir.

He... we,

he thought that he'd
got it all worked out.

- Did he leave any notes, any record?
- No, that is...

Oh come on, come on,
out with it.

Only this, sir.

I found it this morning under
the soap dish on his washstand.

Hmm. Hastily written.

- Another jingle?
- Yes.

Obviously in some agitation.

"If any harm should come to me
fleshly or spiritual

seek and you will find the key
in the Musgrave ritual."

The old ritual,
there it is again.

Watson, we've got to find that ritual.
It's the key to the whole business.

- Just a minute, you can't talk to Sally.
- Why not?

- She's in such a state and I had to give a hypo.
- All right, come along.

Draw the curtains, Watson.

There must be a copy of that
ritual somewhere in this room.

She had to learn it, you know.

Yes, you're right.

Here it is.

I doubt it.

- Empty.
- Quite.

There's only one thing to do,
search the room.

Not the room, Watson. Her mind.

We must search her mind.

Obviously, she took
great pains to hide that paper.

But why should she hide it?

Put yourself in her place.

Her brother Geoffrey
was murdered.

The man she loves
is accused of that murder

and thrown into jail.
On top of that

she finds her brother,
Phillip, murdered.

What would your reactions be?

- Well, naturally I should be terribly upset.
- Obviously.

Excuse me.

She's brought back to this house
in a state bordering on hysteria.

She comes through that door,
goes to that desk,

throws on her gloves.

The first thing her eye lights
on is the Musgrave ritual.

In her mind it's tied up
with all the disasters

that have befallen Hurlstone.

She herself
may be the next victim.

She must hide that paper.

You're quite right, but where?

Excuse me, sir.

Was she alone in this room
at any time

before you gave her the hypo?

Certainly not. Nora was here.

- She helped her into bed while I went for my bag.
- Good.

- Nora?
- Yes, sir.

When you were alone
with Miss Sally

what was the first thing
she did?

Well sir, she asked me
to turn down her bed

- and lay out her nightdress.
- And what was she doing in the meantime?

Let me think, sir.

Oh yes,
she went over to her desk.

Uh-huh. That was when she took
the ritual from this envelope.

What then Nora?

Then she asked me to step over
and draw the curtains.

Why someone's pulled them open.

Yes, I know. When you drew the
curtains you turned your back on her?

Sure. And it wasn't more than
two shakes of a lamb's tail.

Long enough.

When you were at the window
where was she?

She was sitting over here,

sitting right here
taking off her stockings.

Oh, but she never left the
chair. I'll kiss the book on it.

I've got it.

She must have packed that paper
under this cushion.

Oh.

She must have changed her mind.

Obviously.

Well she could have
hidden it anywhere here.

What time was it when you
brought her in here, Watson?

I haven't the faintest idea.

The clock was striking the
quarter hour when I came in, sir.

- I definitely heard it.
- This clock?

- The same, sir.
- Thank you, Nora, you may go.

Obviously this clock
was running at twelve fifteen,

- just as obviously it stopped at twelve twenty.
- Huh?

When Nora turned her back
Sally reached across,

opened the clock

and hid the ritual in here.

- Amazing, Holmes.
- Elementary my dear, Watson.

"Where fell the light on
the face of the messenger."

"Where did he speed?
To guard the queen's Page."

Gibberish, that's what it is.

Hokey pokey, penny a lump.

A thing like this, Watson, that's
been handed down for centuries

can't be mere gibberish.

"Who had entered the lists?
The king's pale knight."

Pale poppycock.

I say, Watson.

King, queen, knight, bishop.

- Sounds like a game of chess to me.
- Precisely.

"Where fell the light."

The light, Watson.

"Follow the light

on the face of a messenger."

Look at it, Watson.

Look at it,
like a giant chessboard.

This is no gibberish.

These are chess terms
and that's the chessboard.

The secret of the Musgrave murders
is locked up in that floor

and by Jove,
we've got the key to it.

"Who had entered the lists.
The king's pale knight."

White king's knight to
white king's bishop three.

Your move, Dr. Sexton.

I really know nothing
about the game.

Come on, Bob. It's great fun.

You start from over here.

Over here. I'll show you.

I'll show you.

One,

two,

three,

one.

Page to the black king three.

Your move Clavering to back
king three, please. Over there.

There's not to reason why.

"Page slaughters page."

Your move, Watson.

I take you, my dear.

It's a good game, isn't it?

Stop it, stop it.
You mustn't giggle.

You must be serious.

You're move, Clavering.
You take Dr. Watson.

Too bad, doctor.

"Who came then to slay him,
the bloodthirsty bishop."

White queen's bishop,
to white king's knight five.

That's my move.

One, two...

I say, doctor,
you moved, didn't you?

Did I? I don't think so.

Yes, I'm afraid you did.

- Oh, where was I on king bishop three?
- That's right.

Oh yes, of course. So sorry.

Three, four, five.

Captain it looks bad for you.

Aye, but where shall I go?

"Where shall he go?
Deep down below."

Mrs. Howells,
what's underneath this floor?

Well, it's only an old cellar, sir.

The entrance goes
down behind that stair

but it's been locked up
for centuries.

One of the old Musgraves

murdered his own brother
down there.

Shh, listen.

Hello, what's that?

It's Brunton.

Alf, Alf?

He's in that passageway
over the fireplace.

Are you there, Brunton?

Get me out!

It's me, Lestrade.

I'm lost.

I'm all turned around.

You have been for years.

Get him out there,
will you, Mrs. Howells

and give him a saucer of milk.

Come here, Jenny.
Stand on this square for me

and stamp on it, keep stamping.

Clavering, get your
sound detector.

Gentlemen, deep down below.

Look, there's not been a soul here
in a couple of hundred years.

Someone's been here

and in the last
twenty-four hours.

- Yeah, it's clean as a new pin.
- Precisely.

Dust of two hundred years
is on the walls.

The floor's been swept clean

obviously in an attempt
to remove footprints.

Shh, listen.

That's Jenny
in the hall upstairs.

Clavering,

let me have your sound detector.

So sorry.

I must find the exact spot under
that square I marked in the hall.

Don't move, anyone.

Someone's moving about

interfering with
what I'm trying to do.

Stand perfectly still everybody.

This is the spot.
Lend me a hand.

Of course.

- Here, I'll take that.
- Oh, thanks, old fellow.

- Hello.
- Good gracious me.

"Here lies the body of
Ralph Musgrave, knight,

the lord of the
manors of Hurlstone."

This place used to be
known as Hurlstone Towers.

"Neverfield and King's Hargrave
Anno Domini 1539."

What we're looking for
is underneath here

that's what the ritual meant by
deep down low. It's a burial crypt.

Up with it.

I say, there's somebody
down there.

Who is it? Is it Brunton?

Is it Brunton?

I don't know.
Stay where you are.

Who is it, Holmes?

It's Brunton all right.

Is he dead?

Yes.

He's been dead for hours.

Murdered.

Hello, what's this?

"Henry by the grace of god,
King of Great Britain,

France and Ireland,
defender of the faith..."

- What have you found?
- Any clue, any clue?

Uh, no, um...

Just an old document.

Hello. What's this?

Looks like some sort
of writing. Watson.

Coming.

Hold this for me, will you?
Steady.

They're on the floor
by his right hand.

See those marks in the dust

like pin scratches made
with his fingernail?

Yes. Yes.

See that stuff under his nail?

He was trying to
write something.

By Jove!

He did write something.

What is it?

Aye, tell us man.

What did he write?

I can't make it out.
It's too faint.

Here. I've got good eyes,
let me, let me.

Stay where you are, all of you.

These marks must not be erased.

What are you going to do,
Holmes?

I'm going to leave
this just as it is

until I can get the proper
chemicals to bring out the words.

Have you no notion of
what he tried to write?

Yes, I have.

I think that Brunton
with his last strength

wrote the name of his murderer
on that floor

in his own blood.

Oh, there you are, Lestrade.

Huh. Twelve o'clock.

I was just saying, Lestrade,

that I should get into
New Castle,

pick up my chemicals and be back
here not later than noon tomorrow.

- Why yes, Mr. Holmes.
- Meanwhile, you all have your work cut out for you.

- Watson.
- Yes?

You'll guard this door
with your life.

Of course I'll will.
With my what?

I said with your life.

Anything you say, Holmes.

There's no entrance
to this cellar

except through that doorway.

But, Holmes what I feel... Oh.

Brunton's murderer's
in this house

and he's bound to make one last
effort to get down there

- to erase those marks.
- Naturally.

Lestrade's men
are posted outside

and they'll see to it that
nobody leaves this house.

Concentration camp.

My men have orders to shoot
if necessary.

- I'll be outside myself keeping watch.
- Good.

Sexton your post will be
at Miss Sally's door

and remember she's in more
danger than anyone here.

- Don't worry I'll look after her, Mr. Holmes.
- Good night.

- Good night, Holmes.
- Good nigh.

Oh, Dr. Watson,
if you want any help, sing out.

I don't mind saying I feel a
lot safer if I had a gun on me.

Huh, I always keep mine ready.

Well, good night, Bob.
Keep awake, old man.

I will.

That's funny.
It's striking twelve again.

Let me out of here, you hear?

Let me out of here.

Someone locked this door.

What on earth's
all this monkey business.

I didn't lock you in.

Well doors don't
lock themselves.

They do in this house.

What are you doing
down here anyway?

- I'm worried about Langford.
- Langford?

Yes, he's got into his head
that this is a Jap prison camp.

He's got that filthy rope

and he's bound and determined
to go out the window.

He can't do that.
Lestrade's men will shoot him.

He may be out already.

I'll head him off.

Then again he may not be.

Perhaps you're right.

Let me go.

No, no. You'll be shot.

I'll go.

No, you'll be shot.

Oh really?

Let's both go.

I can't leave here.

You stay where you are.

I'll go and call Lestrade.

Remember Clavering,
stay where you are.

Here.

Look here, Constable.
I'm Dr. Watson.

Are you now?

Well, I'm Mrs. Minivar.

- Come along to the inspector.
- Gross impertinence.

Useless.

Quite useless, I assure you.

There's nothing written
on the floor.

It was just a rouse of mine to
bring Brunton's murderer here.

Permit me.

As the most ruthless
killer in England

you deserve some of the light.

Killer, I?

Oh I say, you seem to forget
that my life was also attempted.

And a very neat trick it was to
divert suspicion from yourself

but it struck me as odd that the
man who murdered both Musgraves

with such a sure hand

should have missed so badly
in your case

unless of course, um,
you yourself were the murderer.

Ah, that's ridiculous.

Then too it seemed curious
that you a doctor

examining both bodies

and failed to report
the real cause of death.

And that was?

A cisternal needle
thrust up into the brain

between the base of the skull
and the cervical vertebrae.

I had the unpleasant duty of
removing this piece of a needle

from Phillip Musgrave's head.

It couldn't be yours
by any chance, could it?

I never owned one.

Oh yes, you did.

I saw it in your case

the night I came into this house

just after Geoffrey Musgrave
was found murdered.

It wasn't broken then.

It was only when you killed
Phillip Musgrave

that you lost a piece of it.

Nonsense.

Why should I go around
sticking needles into people?

A fair enough question, doctor.

Among nice people

murder like matrimony
generally has a motive

and in this case
the motive was matrimony.

Oh, you mean Miss Sally?

I do.

Oh, I see,

- so you think it's a case of murder for profit, do you.
- Precisely.

My dear, Holmes. That won't do.

The Musgraves are land poor.
Everybody knows that.

Exactly.

But everybody didn't know
what you knew.

You worked out the meaning
of the Musgrave ritual.

I have? Oh.

Yes. You have.

You claimed you knew nothing
about the game of chess.

When I suggested you'd moved
off your proper square

you promptly named
king's bishop three

and what's more
moved back onto it.

Oh, nonsense.

Why shouldn't I have stepped
out of my square in the first...

Break up my moves, spoil my game

and protect me from finding
what you had already found.

And that was?

The old land grant
I took from this box

which would have made Sally Musgrave
upon the death of her brothers,

the richest woman in England.

Now what's that?

Don't tell me you found
another needle?

No, no. It's just a button.

It wouldn't be yours, would it?

Mine?

Give it to me.

Thank you.

Would you mind telling me why

you think I was down here
with Brunton?

No, not at all.

As I see it you killed Phillip
Musgrave in his own room,

carried his body down through
the secret passageway,

out through the greenhouse
into the garage

where you crammed it into the
rumble seat of that roadster

but unfortunately for you,

you had a witness.

Brunton was there,
sleeping off his drunk.

Nursing a grudge
against Phillip Musgrave.

Brunton became your accessory.

But you didn't want an accessory

so you lured him down here
with a promise

to share the Musgrave
treasure with him

and exit Brunton.

Very ingenious, Mr. Holmes.

You seem to have everything

except perhaps the
negligible item of proof.

Suppose we leave that
to the jury.

Suppose we do.

Shall we go?

After you.

Oh, by the way,

don't forget your torch.

Oh, thanks.

I don't suppose
it occurred to you

that you were taking
a bit of a chance

coming down here all alone
with a suspected murderer.

One has to take chances
in my profession, doctor.

You see,
I couldn't possibly risk

sharing my little
plot with anybody.

Not even with Dr. Watson?

Particularly not with
Dr. Watson.

If he'd known
what was up tonight

he could have been so
elaborate and mysterious

he'd a given
the whole show away.

As a matter of fact
I had a devil's own time

luring him away
from that door upstairs

so that we could be alone.

That's all I wanted to know.

Stay where you are.

I'm afraid I have no choice,
Dr. Sexton.

Look here.

You're not really
gonna kill me, are you?

- They'll hear you.
- Who will?

That was a bad slip you made

letting me know you were
so completely alone.

And you're really gonna kill me?

I'm afraid I have no choice,
Mr. Holmes.

As you said,

I have no evidence against you.

No proof. No proof at all.

You forget the needle
and the button.

Bring them here, please.

Not too close.

Now put them in my pocket.

Thank you.

Curious about that button.

It is off my coat, of course.

I can't think how
I ever missed it.

Poor old Brunton.

He didn't struggle much.

Now Phillip Musgrave
was different.

The needle broke off and I didn't
have time to probe for it.

But you have both of them now,

the button and the needle,
why kill me?

Now step back just a bit.

Against the wall.

Now if you stand perfectly still

I think I can manage this
with one shot.

Put 'em up.

Did you hear his
confession, Watson.

Every word, Holmes.

And I heard all the rest, sir.

Good.

Let me congratulate you
on an extraordinary catch.

That's right, Mr. Holmes.
It's no good saying it ain't.

I'm afraid I
underestimated you, Holmes.

Pity.

Yes.

Those blank cartridges were a
cheap sort of trick. I grant you.

But it wasn't easy to let you
take my gun away from me

without seeming to
hand it to you.

That's why I let you take
the torch first.

I knew you'd snap it off.

Yes. We told you,
you were taking an awful risk.

Well we had to have a confession

and these egomaniacs are
always so much more chatty

when they feel
they have the upper hand.

Shall we go?

I can't make head nor
tail of it. Can you Pat?

It looks like an old land grant.

It's really a crown grant.

What I don't understand is

why the Musgraves didn't
claim the land ages ago.

Obviously Watson,
one of 'em died

before passing on the meaning
of the ritual to his heir.

The words remain
but the sense was lost.

I wonder why he left the grant
down there where he found it.

What good would it have done him

so long as your brothers lived.

Once they were out of the way
and you came into the property

he expected to marry you.

I like that.

- Whatever made him think that.
- He thought himself irresistible.

Precisely.

It's not unheard of
in cases of egomania.

I suppose then he meant to
rediscover the crown grant.

At the proper time, yes

and then enjoy
his wife's millions.

- Did you say millions?
- I did.

Look here.

About eighty thousand acres
of the richest soil in England.

But aren't there people on it?

Yes, farms, villages,
even a factory town

with hundreds of
workman's cottages.

- Is this thing legal?
- Perfectly.

Of course it'll drag
on through the courts.

Just a moment.

The people on this land,

they put their money into it,
their life work.

- It's their homes I'll be taking.
- Yes.

Do you think I'm going
to kick these people out?

Just the same, Holmes

you let poor little Sally
throw away a fortune.

My dear fellow,
I had nothing to do with it.

The girl, more power to her,
acted on her own.

It was a grand gesture
one she may regret.

I don't think so, Watson.

There's a new spirit
abroad in the land.

The old days of grab and greed
are on their way out.

We're beginning to think of
what we owe the other fellow

not just what we're
compelled to give him.

The time is coming, Watson,

when we shan't be able
to fill our bellies in comfort

while other folk go hungry

or sleep in warm beds

while others shiver in the cold

and we shan't be able to kneel

and thank God for blessing us
before our shining alters

while men anywhere

are kneeling in either physical
or a spiritual subjection.

You may be right, Holmes.
I hope you are.

And god willing we'll live
to see that day, Watson.