All language subtitles for 08. The Copper Beeches

Something wrong?

To the man who loves art
for its own sake,

it is frequently
in its least important

and lowliest
manifestations

that the keenest pleasure
is to be derived.

Oh, if you say so,
Holmes.

It is pleasant to me
to observe, Watson,

that you have so far
grasped this truth

that in these little
records of our cases

which you have been
good enough to draw up,

and I am bound to say,
occasionally embellish,

that you have given
prominence not so much

to the many cause celebes
and sensational trials

in which I have figured,

but rather to
those incidents

which have given room for
those faculties of deduction

and logical synthesis which I
have made my special province.

Kind of you
to say so, Holmes.

You have erred,
perhaps -

you have erred...

in attempting
to put color and life

into each
of your statements,

instead of confining yourself
to placing upon record

that severe reasoning
from cause to effect

which is really the only notable
feature about the thing.

You are always in
a disputatious mood

when you choose
that pipe.

It seems to me that
I have done you

full justice
in the matter.

No, no, no,
no, no, no,

it is not selfishness
or even conceit.

If I claim full
justice for my art,

it is because
crime is common;

logic is rare.

Therefore, it is upon logic
rather than upon crime

that you
should dwell.

You have degraded what
should have been a course

of lectures into
a series of tales.

Really, Holmes,

I hardly think my poor
scribblings deserve that.

They have, after all, made
your name a household word.

Oh, pshaw,
my dear fellow,

what do the public,
the great unobservant public,

who can hardly tell
a weaver by his tooth

or a compositor
by his left thumb,

care about the finer shades
of analysis and deduction?

But, indeed,
if you are trivial,

I cannot blame you, the days
of the great cases are past.

Man, or at least
criminal man,

has lost all enterprise
and originality.

Oh, surely not.

I fear so.

As to my
little practice,

it seems to be degenerating
into an agency

for recovering
lost lead pencils

and giving advice to young
ladies from boarding schools.

My dear,
dear friend,

how can you say
such a thing?

I think I have touched
bottom, finally.

However, this note
I had this morning

marks my zero-point,
I fancy.

Well, goodness,
who is it from?

Read it.

"Dear Mr. Holmes:
I am very anxious to consult you

as to whether I should or
should not accept a situation

which has been offered
to me as a governess.

I shall call at
half-past ten tomorrow

if I do not
inconvenience you.

Yours faithfully,
Violet Hunter."

I must confess to being
somewhat puzzled

by the contents of your letter,
Miss, uh, Hunter,

since the matter
on which you seek advice

is somewhat outside my
usual field of expertise.

Yes,
I am aware of that.

But you will excuse my
troubling you, I am sure,

since I have recently had
a very strange experience.

Indeed?

As I have no parents or
relations of any sort

from whom I could
ask advice,

I thought perhaps
you would be kind enough

to tell me what
I should do.

I shall be happy to serve
you in any way I can;

pray, proceed.

There is a well-known agency for
governesses in the West End,

called Westaway's, and I have
lately been calling there

about once a week
in order to see whether

anything has turned up
which might suit me.

It is managed
by Miss Stoper.

She sits alone
in her own office,

and the ladies who are
seeking employment

wait in the anteroom,

and are then shown
in one by one,

when she consults her
ledgers and sees whether

she has anything which
might suit them.

Miss Green has been on
our books for some years

and has excellent
references.

In fact, were it not for
the swift return to Kuala Lampur

of her present
employer,

who finds her
most satisfactory,

she would not be available
today for your consideration.

Thank you,
Miss Green.

Oh, that will do.

I could not ask
for anything better.

Oh, capital,
capital.

Splendid.

Please be seated,
Miss Hunter.

Now, then, you are looking
for a situation, miss?

Yes, sir.

As a governess?

Yes, sir.

And what salary
do you ask?

I had four pounds a month
in my last place

with Colonel
Spence Munro.

He has given her an excellent
reference, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, doubtless,
doubtless,

but four pounds
a month?

If that seems
too much -

Too much?
oh, tut, tut,

how could anyone offer
so pitiful a sum to a lady

with such attraction
and accomplishments?

My accomplishments,
sir,

may be less than
you imagine.

A little French, a little
German, music, drawing -

Oh, tut, tut,

that is quite
beside the question.

The point is, have you
or have you not

the bearing and deportment
of a lady?

I mean, that is
it in a nutshell.

I would hope to have
ladylike qualities, sir.

If you have not,

then you are not fitted
for the rearing of a child

whose background
and qualities point

to a brilliant future.

And if you have, why, how
can any gentleman ask you

to condescend to accept
anything under three figures?

Three figures,
sir?

Your salary
with me, madam,

would commence at a
hundred pounds a year.

I hardly know
what to say.

It has also been my custom
to advance my young ladies

a small portion
of their salary beforehand,

so that they might
meet any little expenses

of their journey
and their wardrobe.

Thank you, sir.

May I ask
where you live?

Oh, Hampshire,
charming rural place,

The Copper Beeches,

five miles on the further
side of Winchester.

Oh, it is the most
lovely country,

my dear young lady, and
the dearest old country house.

And my duties, sir?

I should be glad to know
what they would be.

One child, one dear little
romper just six years old.

How charming.

Oh, Miss Stoper,
if you could only see him

killing cockroaches
with a slipper,

three of them gone before
you could wink.

Very clever.

My sole duties, then,

are to take charge
of a single child?

Oh, no, no, no,
no, no, no,

not sole,
my dear young lady.

Oh, what else, then?

Well, your duty
would be,

as I am sure your good
sense would suggest,

to obey any little commands
that my wife might give.

You said commands?

Provided,
of course,

that they were such
commands as any young lady

might with
propriety obey.

You see no
difficulty?

None, whatsoever.

I should be happy
to make myself useful.

Quite so.

In dress, for example,
we are faddy people,

you know, Miss Hunter,
faddy, but kind-hearted.

And if you were asked
to wear any dress

that we
might give you,

you would not object
to our little whims, huh?

Why, um, no.

Or to sit here,
or to sit there,

and that would not be
offensive to you?

No.

Or to cut your hair quite
short before you come to us?

Cut my hair?

Quite short.

Well, I am afraid that's
quite impossible.

And I am afraid it
is quite essential.

It's a little
fancy of my wife's,

and ladies' fancies,
my dear madam,

ladies' fancies
must be consulted.

So you won't
cut your hair?

No, sir,
I'm afraid I could not.

Ah, well,
it is a pity,

because in other respects
you might have done very nicely.

In that case,
Miss Stoper,

I had best inspect some
more of your ladies.

Miss Hunter,

do you desire your name
to be kept upon our books?

If you please,
Miss Stoper.

Well, really,
it seems rather useless,

since you refused the most
excellent offer in this fashion,

you could hardly expect us
to exert ourselves

to find another such
opening for you.

I'm sorry,
Miss Stoper, but my hair -

Good day,
Miss Hunter.

Now, why on earth should he
want you to cut your hair?

I don't know.

A very
strange fact.

As you may observe,
Mr. Holmes,

my hair
is somewhat luxuriant

and a rather peculiar
tint of chestnut.

And most artistic,
if I may so observe.

It has been
considered so.

I simply couldn't think
of sacrificing it

in such
an offhand manner.

Well, I should
think not, indeed.

Oh, such was my feeling
at the time.

The next day I was
inclined to think

that I had made
a mistake,

and the day after
I was sure of it,

when I received a letter
from the gentleman himself.

I have it here,
and I will read it to you.

"Dear Miss Hunter:
Miss Stoper has kindly

given me your address,
and I write from here to ask

whether you have
reconsidered your decision.

We are willing to give
30 pounds a quarter,

or 120 pounds a year,
so as to recompense you

for any little inconvenience
which our fads may cause you."

And your hair?

He is insistent.

"As regards your hair,
it is no doubt a pity,

especially as I could not
help remarking its beauty

during our short
interview.

But I am afraid I must
remain firm upon this point,

and I only hope
that the increased salary

may recompense you
for the loss."

Will it?

My mind is made up that
I will accept the offer.

I thought, however, that
before taking the final step,

I should like to submit
the whole matter

for your
consideration.

My dear
Miss Hunter,

as your mind
is already made up,

the matter
is settled.

But, if at any time you
should find yourself

in any doubt
or danger -

Danger?

What danger
do you foresee?

There seems to be a danger,
if we could define it.

But at any time,
day or night,

a telegram will bring
me down to your help.

Then that is enough.

I shall write
to Mr. Rucastle at once,

and go down to Hampshire
quite easy in my mind now.

Thank you.

Well, Holmes?

I should allow no sister of mine
to accept such a situation.

That's my man, Toller,
he likes to keep it secure.

But you look apprehensive,
Miss Hunter.

Not at all,
Mr. Rucastle.

Good, good.

You must be Edward,

I have looked forward
to meeting you.

Master Edward,

this is your new
governess, Miss Hunter.

Oh, I see you have
a present for Miss Hunter.

Oh, well done,
good shot.

Copper Beeches,
Mr. Rucastle?

All dead, Miss Hunter,
mostly dead.

Here we are, then,
come in, come in.

Oh, Mrs. Toller, this
is Miss Violet Hunter,

who is taking up the position
of governess to Master Edward.

How do you do,
Miss Hunter?

Your room is all
ready for you.

Thank you.

Come along now, Toller,
fetch the trunk.

Oh, Miss Hunter, after you are
refreshed from your journey,

I'll take you on a tour
of The Copper Beeches.

The premises is certainly
extensive, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, yes, and the extensive
premises need protection.

Look in here,
isn't he a beauty?

Don't be frightened,
Miss Hunter,

it's only Carlo,
my mastiff.

I call him mine,
but in fact,

Toller is the only man
that can do anything with him.

He lets him
loose at night,

and God help any trespasser
he lays his fangs upon.

We feed him once a day,
and not too much then,

so that he is always
keen as mustard.

Oh, for goodness sakes,
Miss Hunter,

under no pretext set foot
across this threshold at night;

it's as much as
your life is worth.

Mrs. Rucastle will
be here shortly,

and she will tell you
herself how delighted she is

you are able to
accept this situation.

Your offer was a most
generous one, sir.

Though, well, I am still
curious about the conditions.

My little fads and fancies,
you mean?

Yes.

But they're nothing
at all.

My wife is very fond
of a particular shade

of electric blue,

and she would like you
to wear such a dress indoors

in the morning.

But I do not have
such a dress.

Ah, but we have one.

As to sitting here
or there

or amusing yourself in
any matter indicated,

well, that need cause you no
inconvenience, need it?

No.

How do you do,
Miss Hunter?

I'm sorry I was not
here to greet you,

a slight
indisposition.

I trust you are
feeling better now?

Much better,
thank you.

I was just telling Miss Hunter
about the blue dress.

Yes, I think it
would fit you very well.

I wonder what desperate
circumstances

could occasion
such an appeal?

I have devised seven
separate explanations,

each of which would cover the
facts as far as we know them.

Oh, and which one do
you favor, Holmes?

At the moment,
I have no favorites.

Data, data, data, I cannot
make bricks without clay.

Well, it's nice to get
away from the fogs

of Baker Street
now and again.

What delightful little
farms these are,

don't you agree, aren't
they fresh and beautiful?

You know,
Watson,

it is one of the curses
of having a mind

with a turn like mine that
I must look at everything

with reference to my
own special subject.

Well, it doesn't
make the scenery

any less admirable,
does it?

You look at these
scattered houses,

and you are impressed
by their beauty.

I look at them, and the only
thought which comes to me

is a feeling of
their isolation

and of the impunity with which
crime may be committed there.

Good heavens,

who would associate crime
with these dear old homesteads?

They always filled me
with a certain horror.

It is my belief, Watson,
founded upon my experience,

that the lowest and vilest
alleys in London

do not present a more
dreadful record of sin

than does the smiling
and beautiful countryside.

Had this young lady who
appeals to us for help

gone to live
in Winchester,

I should never have
had a fear for her.

It is the five miles of country
which makes the danger.

What can it mean,
Mr. Holmes?

We cannot theorize without
data, I'm afraid.

Please, continue,
Miss Hunter.

In the first place,

I may say that
I have met, on the whole,

with no actual
ill-treatment from

Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle.

But I am not easy
in my mind about them,

and I cannot
understand them.

What can't you
understand?

The reasons for
their conduct.

For two days after my arrival
at the Copper Beeches,

my life
was very quiet.

On the third, I went downstairs
after breakfast to find

Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle
in the drawing room.

Mr. Rucastle informed me
that a dress,

an electric
blue dress,

had been laid out for me
in my bedroom,

and asked me
to put it on.

I did as he
requested.

Oh, superb, Miss Hunter,
oh, quite superb.

Do you not agree?

It could not be
a better fit,

not if you had been
measured for it.

Please, be so good
as to sit down, Miss Hunter.

Oh, perfect, I mean,
it's quite, quite perfect.

Over here, if you don't mind,
Miss Hunter.

There, there,
there now, excellent.

Are you quite
comfortable?

Yes, thank you.

How long do you wish me
to remain here, sir?

Oh, an hour, perhaps,
perhaps longer.

An hour?

Oh, but not, I assure you,
an hour of tedium.

Let us see how we can best
entertain and divert you.

Do you enjoy funny stories,
Miss Hunter?

Why, yes.

Well, then, I shall
tell you some,

and all of them, I assure you,
absolutely true.

Let me tell you
about George.

He is the most
extraordinary character.

Well, it seems, somebody wanted
to find his way to Winchester,

and George, he really
is such an eccentric,

you might mistake him
for a scarecrow,

I mean,
his legs are all astray,

his arms always
thrust out like this,

his head shaved
like a turnip,

and on his head he wore
the most extraordinary hat -

Then Mr. Rucastle,

walking up and down on
the other side of the room,

began to tell me a series
of the funniest stories

I've ever
listened to.

You cannot imagine
how comical he was.

I laughed till
I was quite weary.

Two days later this
same performance

was gone
through again.

This is the peace of God,
that passes all understanding.

Oh, bless my soul,
is that the hour already?

Time has passed very quickly,
and most amusingly, sir.

Well, I'm glad
to hear you say so.

But now, it is time for you
to attend to your duties,

so go and change
your dress,

and then look to little
Edward in the nursery.

You can easily
imagine, Mr. Holmes,

how curious I became
as to what the meaning

of this extraordinary
performance could be.

Since my face was always
turned away from the window,

I became consumed
with the desire to see

what was going on
behind my back.

On the very
next occasion,

I managed to conceal a small
piece of mirror in my hand.

Oh, George,
I can't tell you -

In the midst
of my laughter,

I raised my handkerchief
to my eyes,

and was able with
a little management

to see all there
was behind me.

There was nothing,

at least that was
my first impression.

At second glance,
however,

I perceived that there
was a bearded man

leaning against the railings
which bordered our field,

and was looking up
earnestly at the house.

I lowered my handkerchief
and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle,

to find her eyes fixed upon me
in a most searching gaze.

She said nothing,

but I'm convinced she divined
I had a mirror in my hand.

Jephro, there
is an impertinent fellow

who stares up
at Miss Hunter.

Oh, does he indeed?

No friend of yours,
Miss Hunter?

No, I know no one
in these parts.

Oh, dear me,
how very impertinent.

Quite intolerable.

Kindly turn around,
Miss Hunter,

and motion him
to go away.

Surely it would be better
if we took no notice.

What, and have him
loitering here always?

No, turn around,
Miss Hunter,

and wave him
away like this.

That was
a week ago,

and from that time I have
not sat in the window,

nor have I worn
the blue dress,

nor seen the man
with the beard.

But something
else occurred,

an event which caused you
to summon me with such urgency?

Yes, yes,
oh, Mr. Holmes,

I've never been
so frightened.

Do not distress yourself,
Miss Hunter,

compose yourself, and then
tell us what it was.

There is a turret
to the house

which appears not
to be inhabited at all.

A door which faces that
which leads into the quarters

of the Tollers
opens into the turret,

but it is
invariably locked.

It was only yesterday
that the chance came

for me to pass
beyond the door.

Toller?

Yes.

So it was you,
then.

I thought it must be when
I saw the door open.

I'm so
frightened.

Oh, my
dear young lady,

oh, my dear young lady,
what has frightened you,

my dear young lady?

I - I was
foolish enough

to go up into the
shuttered turret.

You noticed it was
shuttered then?

Yes.

Photography is one
of my hobbies.

I have made my
dark room up there.

What an observant young
lady one has come upon.

It was so lonely and eerie
in this dim light

that I was frightened
and ran out again.

It's so dreadfully
still in there.

Only that?

Why, yes, what do you think,
what other reason?

Why do you think
I keep that door locked?

I'm sure
I don't know.

It is to keep people out
who have no business there,

do you see?

I'm sure
if I had known -

Well, you know now.

And if you ever set foot
across that threshold again,

I'll throw you
to the mastiff.

I was so terrified that
I didn't know what to do.

Then I thought of you,
Mr. Holmes.

I had no difficulty
in getting leave to come

to Winchester
this morning,

but I must be back
by 3:00 o'clock,

for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle
are going on a visit

and will be away
all evening,

so that I must look
after the child.

Now I've told you all of
my adventures, Mr. Holmes.

What does it mean,
and what should I do?

Does the unspeakable child
Edward have a friend?

Yes, uh,

an equally unpleasant child
at one of the farm cottages.

Splendid.

Dr. Watson and I will arrive
at the Copper Beeches

at 4:30 precisely.

But before then, there
are one or two things

I should
like you to do.

I would not ask this
of you, Miss Hunter,

if I did not think you were
quite an exceptional woman.

Mrs. Toller?

Mrs. Toller, I think Edward has
locked himself in the cellar.

The cellar?

Well, I can't
find him anywhere,

and it is past
his tea time.

Well, just the same,
I don't see why Master Edward

would have locked
himself in the cellar.

Well, the door
was open earlier,

I saw Toller come
out with a bottle.

Perhaps he went down
to look for cockroaches.

It's locked.

There you are, miss.

After you.

Our destination.

Holmes, can we be quite sure
the mastiff isn't loose?

We can be sure of nothing
until we reach the house.

Good God,
what was that?

Come quickly.

To the left,
Mr. Holmes.

There has been some
villainy here.

It looks as though someone
has gone across the roof.

Alice, Alice, Alice,
Alice, Alice.

Alice?

Where is my daughter?

That is for me
to ask you that.

His daughter?

Thieves, you spies,
thieves and spies.

I have caught you,
have I?

I have you
in my power.

I'll serve you.

What does
he mean?

He's gone
for the dog.

Watson.

Someone has
loosed the dog.

It's not been
fed for two days.

Quick, before
it's too late.

Still unconscious.

I've done what
I can for him,

he now needs a surgeon
as soon as possible.

I've dispatched Toller
to Mrs. Rucastle

to summon
such assistance.

Oh, miss, it's a pity
you didn't let me know

what you
were planning,

I could have told you
your pains were wasted.

It's clear
Mrs. Toller knows

more of this matter
than anyone else.

Well, yes, sir,
I do, and I'm -

I'm ready enough to tell
you what I know.

But if there's police
court business over this,

you will remember I was
Miss Alice's friend.

Miss Alice?

Mr. Rucastle's daughter
by his first marriage.

Ah, the mystery of
the shuttered turret.

Mrs. Toller,
please sit down.

Now, tell me
all you know.

Well, she was
never happy at home,

Miss Alice wasn't,

from the time that her
father married again.

She - she was
slighted like,

and had no say
in anything.

But - but it didn't
became bad for her

until after
she met Mr. Fowler.

And pray,
who is Mr. Fowler?

Well, he was
Miss Alice's young man.

You - you might have
seen him hanging about,

out in the road
by the field.

Yes.

And how did Mr. Fowler's
involvement

bring Miss Alice to her
distressing circumstances?

Well, as far
as I could learn,

Miss Alice had rights of her own
under her late mother's will,

but she was so quiet
and patient, she was,

she never said
a word about them

but just left everything
in Mr. Rucastle's hands.

Well, he knew he
was safe with her,

but when there was a chance
of a husband coming forward,

who would ask for all
the law will give him,

well, then, her father thought
it time to put a stop on it.

He wanted her
to sign a paper

so that whether
she married or not,

he could use
her money.

Well, when she
wouldn't do it,

he kept worrying her,
worrying her,

till she got
brain-fever;

for six weeks
she was at death's door.

When she got
better at last,

all worn
to a shadow,

and with her beautiful
hair cut off,

he moved her
to the turret room,

where she was
kept prisoner.

But that didn't make no
change in her young man,

and he stuck to her
true as a man could be.

And then Mr. Rucastle brought
Miss Hunter down from London

in order to impersonate
his daughter

and get rid of
the young man.

Well,
that was it, sir.

But Mr. Fowler being a -
a persevering gentleman,

as a good sailor should be,
blockaded the house.

And having met you succeeded
by certain arguments,

metallic
and otherwise,

in convincing you that your
interests were the same as his?

Mr. Fowler was
a very kind-spoken,

free-handed,
gentleman.

And in this way he managed
that your husband

should not want for drink,
the gates unlocked,

thus insuring that the mastiff
should remain chained,

and that a ladder should be
ready to assist him

in the rescue
of Miss Alice?

You have it, sir,
just as it happened.

And thus was solved the mystery
of the sinister house

called
The Copper Beeches.

Mr. Rucastle survived,
but was always a broken man,

kept solely alive through
the care of his devoted wife.

They still live
with their servants,

who probably know so much
of Rucastle's past

that he finds it difficult
to part from them.

Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle
were married by special license,

and he now holds
a government position

on the island
of Mauritius.

Miss Hunter is now head
of a private school in Walsall,

where I gather she has met
with considerable success.

There, Holmes,
your verdict?

An admirable account,
Watson.

Oh, you don't think I've put too
much color and life into it?

Oh, my dear friend,

I humbly defer such
considerations

to your excellent
literature.

Good.