All language subtitles for 10. The Norwood Builder

Thank you,
George.

From the point of view
of the criminal expert,

London has become
a singularly odd,

interesting city.

Well, I hardly
think you'll find

many decent citizens
to agree with you.

Well, well, well,
one must not be selfish.

The community's
the gain,

and no one the loser
say the poor,

unfortunate specialist
whose occupation was got.

You must have
been totally...

There's the case of the
papers of ex-President...

and shocking affair of the
Dutch steamship Treesman,

which very nearly cost
us both our lives.

Both of them
great successes.

I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes
is not at home.

If I fail to see him now,
it will be too late.

But I'm sorry,
I cannot help you.

But it is a matter
of the utmost urgency.

I have already told you,
young man, Mr. Holmes ...

Mr. Holmes!

Well, I must see you.

I told the young man
you weren't here,

but he
wouldn't listen.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but
I'm nearly out of my mind.

I am the unhappy
John Hector McFarland.

Now, tell us quietly
and slowly who you are

and what it is
that you want.

You mentioned your
name just now

as if I should
recognize it,

but I can
assure you,

beyond the obvious facts
that you are a bachelor,

a solicitor and a free
mason and an asthmatic,

I know nothing
about you whatever.

Your untidy clothes,
sheaf of legal papers,

watch chain and your somewhat
irregular breathing.

Why, yes, Mr. Holmes,
I am all these things.

And in addition,
I am at this moment,

the most unfortunate
man in London.

I mean, I've read
your newspaper ...

Not yet.

Then, if you
would allow me.

"At about 12 o'clock
last night,

an instance occurred at
Lower Norwood which points,

it is feared,
to a serious crime.

A small timber yard caught
fire at the back of a house

belonging to Mr. Jonas
Oldacre, a builder.

Surprise was expressed
at Mr. Oldacre's absence,

and it became apparent
he had disappeared.

An examination
of his room

revealed a safe
which was open,

signs of a
murderous struggle,

and a heavy
walking stick

with stains of blood
upon the handle.

As we ..."

All I ask is that you
don't abandon me.

A man has followed me
from London Bridge Station.

If they arrest me before
I finish my story,

make them
give me time

so that I may tell
you the whole truth.

I could go
to jail happy

if I knew that you were
outside working for me.

Arrest you?

This is really
most gratifying.

On what charge do you
expect to be arrested?

Upon the charge
of murdering

Mr. Jonas Oldacre
of Lower Norwood.

Dear me!

"As we go to press,

sensational developments
have been reported.

Charred remains
have been found

among the ashes
of the fire,

and the police theory
is that the victim

was clubbed to death
and the body ignited.

It is known
that Mr. Oldacre

received a visitor
last night,

and the stick has
been identified

as belonging
to that person,

a young London
solicitor,

by the name of
John Hector McFarland."

May I ask why you are still
at liberty, Mr. McFarland,

as there seems to be
enough evidence

to justify
your arrest?

I live with
my mother,

at Torrington Lodge
in Blackheath,

but last night,

having late business
with Mr. Oldacre,

I stayed at a hotel
in Norwood.

Mr. Holmes, I knew
nothing of this affair

until I was on the train
to my office this morning

and read what you
have just heard.

I saw at once the terrible
danger of my position

and hurried to put the
case in your hands.

Ah, Inspector Le Strade,

we have been
expecting you.

Mr. Holmes?

Dr. Watson?

Mr. John Hector McFarland?

Yes.

I arrest you
for the willful murder

of Mr. Jonas Oldacre
of Lower Norwood.

Hold up,
just one moment.

A half an hour
more or less

could make little
difference to you,

and this young gentleman was
about to give us an account

of this very
interesting affair,

which might aid us
in clearing it up.

There will be no difficulty
in clearing it up,

thank you,
Mr. Holmes.

Nevertheless, I think
with your permission,

I would be much interested
in hearing his account.

Well, Mr. Holmes,

there's no denying
that you have been

of use to the force

once or twice in the past,
but I must insist ...

All I ask is that
you should hear

and recognize
the absolute truth.

I'll give you
half an hour.

Sit down, McFarland.

Thank you, Le Strade.

We must warn you with
what you say now

will appear in evidence
against you.

Pray continue.

I must first explain
that I knew nothing

of Mr. Jonas Oldacre,

although his name
was familiar to me.

Many years ago, my parents
were acquainted with him,

but ... well,
they drifted apart.

And so it came
as a complete surprise

when yesterday afternoon,
at about 3 o'clock,

he walked into my
office in the city.

"Mr. Oldacre,
good afternoon,

I'm Mr. McFarland.

Would you care
to come through?

Please, won't
you sit down?

How can I help you?

This is a draft
of my Will.

I want you,
Mr. McFarland,

to cast it into
proper legal shape.

I shall sit here
while you do so.

You can understand my
astonishment, Mr. Holmes,

when I found that, with
some minor reservations,

his entire estate
had been left to me.

"But I ... I simply
don't understand.

Well, then,
let me explain.

I'm a bachelor,
Mr. McFarland,

with few relatives,

and none who deserve
my consideration.

Well, that may
well be so ...

Let me ...
let me finish.

I beg your pardon.

For many years now, I've
withdrawn from my business.

I was a builder, and
though I say it myself,

an extremely
successful one.

Successful enough to have
gained considerable wealth

and thus live out
my life in complete,

if solitary,
comfort.

Many years ago,
I knew your mother.

Knew her,
and hoped to marry her.

Then she met and
married your father.

I had no idea.

Well,
and why should you?

Three months ago, why,

I read of your
father's death

in The Daily Telegraph,

and my mind was turned
to your mother

and to the son who might
very well have been my own.

This is my way of
securing your future.

I know that
whatever I leave

will be in worthy hands.

What can I say,
but thank you?

There are a few documents
I think you should see ...

building leases,
title deeds,

mortgages and so on.

Well, now my
mind's made up,

I shan't rest easy until
the whole thing's settled.

Yes, of course.

I beg you to come
to my house tonight.

What shall we say,
9 o'clock?

Why, yes.

You'll of course bring
the finalized Will,

and then we can settle the
matter once and for all.

Yes, of course.

Thank you,
my boy.

Oh, one last thing.

Not a word of this
to your dear mother

until everything
is settled.

I want it to be a little
surprised for her.

Little, I ...

You ...
you promise?

You have my word.

I left in good time
for my appointment,

but had difficulty
in finding the house,

so that it was nearly half-past
before I reached it.

Good evening.

I have an appointment
with Mr. Oldacre.

Mr. McFarland?

Yes, that's right.

It was not the warmest
of receptions.

And the house itself had a
peculiar, unloved feeling.

Sorry to keep you
waiting, my boy.

Not at all, sir.

I'm a little late,
I'm afraid.

Now, you brought
the papers?

Yes, indeed.

Excellent.

The bedroom was on
the ground floor

where there was
a large safe.

"Bring the rest of
those papers, my boy.

Now, to business.

All done?

Yes, sir,
all done.

Just seen the time,
my boy.

You must get home.

Oh, thank you.

I had a stick with me.

Ah, I wonder where
she put it?

A rather heavy
walking stick.

It belonged
to my father.

Ah, never mind, I'll take
good care of it until we meet again.

After all, I shall be seeing
a great deal of you now, I hope.

Indeed you shall, sir.

I left him there.

The safe was open,

and the documents
were on his desk.

It was too late to go
back to Blackheath,

and so I spent the night
at a hotel in Norwood.

I knew nothing more of
this horrible affair

until this morning.

Do you have the original
draft of the Will

that Oldacre
brought to you?

Why, yes, I ...
I have it here.

May I retain this for
24 hours, Inspector?

It would amuse you.

Well, anything more you'd
like to ask, Mr. Holmes?

Not until I've
been to Blackheath.

You mean Norwood?

No doubt, that is what
I must have meant.

Now, Mr. McFarland,

my Constable's
at the door,

there's a
four-wheeler waiting.

Morning, gentlemen.

Morning.

There are certain points
about this document,

are there not Watson?

Well, I can read
the first two lines

and these in the middle
of the second page

and one or
two at the end,

I mean, they're as clear
as print.

But the writing in
between is very bad,

and there's several places
where I can't read it at all.

What do make
of that?

What do
you make of it?

That it was written
on the train.

The good writing
represents stations,

the bad writing movement,
and the very bad writing ...

Passing over
the points?

A scientific expert
would pronounce at once

that it was drawn up
on a suburban line.

Since nowhere,

save in the immediate
vicinity of a great city,

could there be so quick
a succession of points.

Granting that
his whole journey

was occupied in
drawing up the Will,

then the train must
have been an express,

stopping only once between
Norwood and London Bridge.

Yes, but it's curious,
is it not,

that a man should draw up
so important a document

in so haphazard
a fashion?

And it suggests
that he thought

it was going to be of no
practical importance.

Well, he drew up his death
warrant at the same time.

This case is not
clear to me.

Come, Watson!

Where are we going,
Norwood?

No, Blackheath.

Come!

My son's the gentlest
creature on God's earth.

It's inconceivable he
could even contemplate

such a terrible crime.

He didn't even know
the man, Mr. Holmes.

But you did,
Mrs. McFarland.

Years ago.

I'd forgotten that
he ever existed.

I tried to forget.

It's impossible
to quite forget

a man like
Jonas Oldacre.

Yes, I knew him well.

At one time, we were
engaged to be married.

Thank heaven I had the
sense to turn away from him

and marry a better,
if poorer, man.

Oh, please.

Your husband
died recently?

He was a kind man,
gentle man.

He was everything
Jonas Oldacre was not.

And yet, at one time,
you were prepared to marry him?

I said that I
knew him well,

but the more
I knew of him,

the more I came
to realize

I knew him
not at all.

He would change suddenly,
would also frighten me.

There was a dark side to
his character, Mr. Holmes.

A desire
to cause pain.

My own photograph.

It was my first
present to him.

Good heavens!

That was how
it was returned to me

on my wedding day,

together with
a vile note

urging a curse
upon my house

and saying he'd
never forgive me.

And yet, he does seem
to have forgiven you ...

after all, to leave his
entire estate to your son.

Neither my son
nor I want anything

from that wicked man,
dead or alive.

Mrs. McFarland,
the fact remains

that the
Will was made.

I simply
can't understand it.

Why?

Had you ever spoken of
Oldacre to your son?

I mean, perhaps told him
what you've just told me now?

No, never.

Never?

He found
the photograph.

My husband tried
to make light of it,

but he insisted.

My husband told him something
of the truth, that's all.

And the boy
was disturbed?

He was upset,
naturally.

You see, Mrs. McFarland,
what the police might say is,

that he had heard of
Oldacre's behavior toward you.

It would pre-dispose him
toward hatred and violence.

And so that case
against him would be

considerably strengthened.

No.

There is a God in
heaven, Mr. Holmes,

and that same God who's
punished that wicked man

will show in his
own good time,

my son's hands are
guiltless of his blood.

Wait here, please.

Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

We're just clearing up.

The Will as promised.

Look, buttons!

Trouser buttons.

No doubt, you've brought
your glass with you?

The name is Hiams.

According to Mrs. Lexington,
the housekeeper, Hiams,

is the name of
Mr. Oldacre's tailor.

Presumably, the
organic remains

have been removed
to the laboratory?

They have, Doctor,

though they'll be of
little use, I suspect.

The poor devil was no
more than bone and cinder.

How very convenient
for the murderer.

Not, I might venture,
for Mr. Oldacre.

Nevertheless, Inspector,
bones cinder.

Thank heavens, he was
wearing his trousers.

This stick belongs
to the accused,

and he's never
denied it.

He says that he
could not find it

when he came to
leave the house.

Says, Mr. Holmes, says.

My experts made
out footmarks

of both men
on the carpet.

And too much
subsequent traffic

to make any examination
on my part worthwhile.

Two sets of footmarks,
Mr. Holmes.

None of any
third person.

Another trick
for your side.

I suppose all these
papers are from the safe?

Correct.

And nothing,
absolutely nothing,

has been removed?

Nothing whatsoever.

We have opened one or two,
as you can see,

to check the contents.

May I check them?

By all means.

I, myself, have
business at The Yard.

Oh, and I would like to
see the housekeeper ...

what is her name?

Mrs. Lexington.

She'll add nothing more
to what you already know.

Nevertheless.

I'll send her in.

Could it be
that for once

Le Strade is on
the right track?

All my instincts
are one way,

and all the facts
are the other.

You wish
to see me, sir?

Yes.

Mrs. Lexington, this is
my friend and colleague,

Dr. Watson.

Do sit down.

I'll stand,
if I may.

This room has no
comfort for me.

You let young Mr. McFarland
into this house at 9:30?

Yes.

I wish that my hand had
withered before I'd done so.

And you retired
to bed at?

20 minutes
past 11:00.

20 minutes
past 11:00.

And you
heard nothing?

My room is at
the far end of the house.

I heard nothing until
the fire alarm sounded.

It was then,
only then,

that I realized my poor
master had been murdered.

Mrs. Lexington,
to your knowledge,

did your master
have any enemies?

Every man has
his enemies.

And a businessman
like Mr. Oldacre,

more than most,
perhaps?

He was a well-respected
gentleman

who kept himself very
much to himself.

Do you know anything
about these papers?

I know nothing

of Mr. Oldacre's
private affairs.

The buttons that the police
found in the fire?

My master had three suits
made by Mr. Hiams ...

two are still in that
wardrobe there,

and the third he
was wearing that night.

Thank you,
Mrs. Lexington,

you have been most
cooperative.

What do
you make of her?

Tight as wax,
if you ask me,

but then, perhaps that's
her usual manner?

It's all wrong,
I feel it in my bones,

something ... something
has not come out,

and that woman
knows it.

Holmes, would you like me
to have a look at these papers?

Well, a man's bank
account can tell us

as much
as his diary.

Correct.

Thank you, Watson.

It's all right
Constable,

I'm just
stretching my legs.

I'll watch them.

Ah, Constable.

Are you a local man?

Born on Bridge, sir,
not a half-mile from here.

Excellent.

Then perhaps you can offer
me some local knowledge?

I'll do my best,
sir,

I'll most certainly
do my best.

Holmes!

Le Strade did say that no
documents had been removed?

Yes.

That's what
I thought.

You've found
something?

No, it's what I haven't
found that interests me.

There are certain
cross-references

to various deeds,
valuable deeds,

none of which
I can find.

But one thing
is clear:

Oldacre was hardly

in the affluent
circumstances

we have been led
to believe.

His bank account was
practically empty,

largely because he had made
several large payments

in the past year
to a certain Mr. Cornelius.

Young McFarland would
have inherited nothing.

This is of interest.

Why should a
retired builder

have such large transactions
with a Mr. Cornelius?

Well, let's take
our cab,

and see what we can find
out from his city bank.

You coming?

I'll stay here
for awhile.

Norwood Station.

So, you're not
going back to London

with your friend,
then?

No, not yet,
anyway.

I do hope my presence
doesn't inconvenience you.

By the way,
I should warn you,

I found an undesirable
lurking about by the gates.

I saw him on ...

An undesirable?

A tramp,
Mrs. Lexington,

a gentlemen
of the road.

He will get
nothing here.

Ah, you don't
believe in

supporting our less
fortunate brethren?

I work,
so can they.

Quite so.

I'm on my way
to Croxton.

I've done enough walking,
I have...

To all kinds
of places.

I'll stay put.

I used to meet
a friend of mine here.

Oh, you might know him,
he's a seafaring man.

Aha, I know him.

Shared my billet for the
last four nights, he does.

And off he goes,
without even a word.

You take my tip.

Stay clear of him.

He's a liar.

He didn't strike
me as such.

He goes up to that
big house, he does.

He comes back here
and tells some yarn

about him putting out
with old mans,

and telling him
to come back tomorrow

and they'll
give him some grub

and some
cast-offs for him.

Well,
how is that lying?

Because,
my friend,

I already paid
my call.

I nearly got my
lord on my back

for my insolence ...

insolence.

Perhaps he told you
a pleasing tale.

Are you saying,

that a drunken
sailor has more to offer

than a Sergeant
in the 22nd?

No, no.

He's a liar.

He says, "Whatever I get,"
he says,

"I'll share with you,
shipmate, " he says.

Off he goes.

Not a sight
of him since.

Holmes,

you must permit
yourself some food.

You must eat.

A present, I cannot
afford energy

and nerve force
for digestion.

Well, you must if you
intend to pursue this case.

I feel,
my dear fellow,

that our case will
end ingloriously

by Le Strade
hanging our client,

which will certainly be a
triumph for Scotland Yard.

There's a telegram.

"Important
fresh evidence at hand,

McFarland's guilt
definitely established,

advise you to abandon
case, Le Strade."

It is Le Strade's little
cockle-doodle of victory.

Let's have
some breakfast,

and then go out together
and see what we can do.

I feel as if I shall
need your company

and moral
support today.

Ah, Mr. Holmes,
Dr. Watson.

I think you will
acknowledge

that we're just a little
in front of you this time.

Step this way, if you
please, gentlemen,

and I'm sure
I can convince you

that it was
John McFarland

who committed
this crime.

I don't like being wrong any
more than the rest of us do.

Still, a man
can't always

expect to have it
his own way,

can he Dr. Watson?

This is where the
housekeeper left

McFarland's hat
and stick,

and this is also where
he would have come

to collect his hat after
the crime was committed.

Now, look at this.

A thumb mark.

So I observe.

A thumb mark
in blood.

You are aware that no two
thumb marks are alike?

I have heard
something of the kind.

Identical.

And that was taken from
McFarland this morning.

Definitely the same
thumb mark.

And that is final.

Quite final.

Who made this
discovery?

It was
Mrs. Lexington here

who drew my Constable's
attention to it.

And, I suppose,

there is no doubt that the
mark was there yesterday?

Well, of course McFarland
could have crept out

of jail in the middle
of the night

just to strengthen the
evidence against himself.

Ha-ha.

Have you any objection
if I take a stroll upstairs?

No, none at all.

There's nothing
up there, though.

So many things
look so bad, Holmes.

But there is a serious
flaw in this new evidence.

What's that?

That thumb print
was not there

when I examined
the hall yesterday.

Inspector Le Strade,

I cannot help thinking your
evidence is incomplete.

What do you mean,
Mr. Holmes?

Merely that there is
an important witness

that you have
not yet seen.

You can produce this
witness, can you?

I think I can.

Well then, do so.

I'll do my best.

How many
Constables have you?

Three within call.

Excellent.

I assume that they
are able-bodied,

large men with
powerful voices?

No doubt that they are,
yeah.

In the outhouse, there
is a quantity of straw.

I would like two
bundles brought in.

Straw?

And two buckets
of water.

Water?

Ask them to bring it
to the top landing.

Straw, into the fireplace,
a little bit in front.

Two buckets of water to
that side, Constable.

Mr. Holmes!

I don't know whether you're
playing a game with us,

but surely tell us without
all this tom-foolery.

I can assure you,
Le Strade,

I have an excellent reason
for everything that I do.

Watson, would you put
a match to that straw?

And Constable, will you
sprinkle it with water?

Now, we must see

if we can find this witness
for you, Le Strade.

Gentlemen,

would you please join me
and we'll call a fire ...

one, two three ...
FIRE!

Fire.

We can do better
than that.

Full voice,
and together.

FIRE!

Good heavens,

Constable, a bucket of
water on that straw.

Le Strade, allow me
to present you

with your missing principal
witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre.

What's this then?

What have you been
doing all this time?

I've done no harm.

NO harm!

You've only
done your best

to get an innocent
man hanged.

If it wasn't for this
gentleman standing here,

I'm not sure you
wouldn't have succeeded.

Take him!

Let us see where this
rat has been lurking.

Now you see the advantage
of being a builder,

he was able to fix up his
own little hiding place

without any
confederate,

save for that precious housekeeper of his,

whom I should lose no time in
adding to your bag, Inspector.

And these are the missing
papers, no doubt?

No doubt
whatsoever.

Constable, find
the housekeeper.

How did you know about
that place, Mr. Holmes?

When I compared the
proportions of this room

with those
of the room below,

I deduced that this
fireplace wall was false.

Oldacre clearly had a
great deal of nerve,

but little enough,
I've found,

to like quiet before
an alarm of fire.

How in the world
did you know

that he was in
the house at all?

The thumb mark,
Le Strade.

When I examined the hall
yesterday, it was clear.

Therefore, it must have been
put there during the night.

But how?

After McFarland had examined
the papers that night,

he resealed them.

To do so, he used his
thumb upon the wax.

Brooding in that
den of his,

it suddenly
struck Oldacre

what use he could make
of that thumbprint.

Smearing the wax
with a little blood,

he made what appeared
to be absolutely

damning evidence
against McFarland.

But what was the object
of his deception?

Ah, well,
you see Inspector,

in order to swindle
his creditors,

who were
pressing him,

Oldacre emptied his bank
account by paying out

several large sums to a
certain Mr. Cornelius.

Now, I have no doubt
that Messers Oldacre

and Cornelius are one
and the same person,

the object being
to change his name,

draw on the money,
and then vanish.

We see before us
a very deep,

malicious and
vindictive man.

Did you know that he
was once refused

by McFarland's mother?

All his life, he has
longed for vengeance.

If he could give
the impression

that he
was murdered

by the only child of his
former sweetheart,

what more
better revenge?

I would never have
allowed any real harm

to befall poor
Mr. McFarland,

I assure you.

That's for the jury
to decide.

You're charging me?

For a joke?

It's nothing more
than a practical joke.

It's nothing less
than murder ...

the body in the fire.

But whose body was it?

And old sailor,
Le Strade,

who had fallen upon
hard times.

When I examined the
ashes of that fire,

I discovered that your
experts had missed this.

It is a tooth of the
great white shark,

and you see that it has
been lightly carved.

It is typical of the work
carried out by seamen.

Well, this isn't
evidence enough

to show who
died in the fire.

I know for certain
that on Monday,

the day before
the murder,

a tramp called
at this house.

Yet, when I questioned
the housekeeper,

she assured me

that no such tramp
would ever be welcome.

Not only was his
reception welcoming,

but the man received some
of Oldacre's clothing.

Yesterday,
near the front gate,

I found the calling
card that he left,

a coded sign advising
his fellow travelers

of a charitable welcome.

And last night,

with the help of your
local Constable,

I talked to one of these
fellow travelers,

who said that
the unfortunate seaman

had been asked to call
back the following day

with the assurance of
further hospitality.

And so,
the next morning,

wearing his
new clothes,

or at least his new
trousers, he returned ...

and was never
seen again.

You've saved an innocent
man's life, Mr. Holmes.

You've also saved me
some embarrassment.

Ah, my good chap!

You will find that
your reputation

has been
enormously enhanced.

Just make a few
alterations to that report

which you
are writing,

and they will understand
how hard it is

to throw dust in the eyes
of Inspector Le Strade.

You don't want your
name to appear?

Not at all.

His work
is its own reward.

I'll see you
hang for this!

That privilege must
surely be mine.