Original subtitles

Satan! Satan!

Satan, help me!

Help me, Satan!

Satan! Satan!

Satan!

Sutter.

Sutter.

You mustn't take it so badly, Holmes.

What? Well, I know it's inconvenient, but you really mustn't let it affect you

like this.

Whatever do you mean?

You are sitting there, boiling with indignation because you have been forced

leave the warmth and comfort of 221B by the ardour of Mrs Hudson's spring

cleaning.

My dear Watson, however did you deduce that?

By simply applying your methods, Holmes. Indeed.

You'll agree that you are not here for either a shave or a haircut.

That is true. How did you know?

Because you invariably shave yourself.

And you are patently not due for a haircut for another two weeks.

Correct. And you left our rooms in some haste.

You are without either your gloves or your cane.

Go on.

Well.

that Mrs Hudson has been trying to complete her spring cleaning all day.

Now, you have been sitting there, frowning, eyes tightly closed, grinding

your teeth, and all the time your fingers have been drumming like pistons

arm of that chair.

So, given all this evidence, even I cannot fail to deduce that you have

quarrelled with our good housekeeper and sought refuge in the sanity of the

barber's shop.

And you cannot deny that I am right.

Ah, Watson.

You could not be further from the truth.

I am here to get our good barber's advice as to this spokesman of hair

the scene of the bloody mid -adventure last Tuesday in Deadford.

Oh, come along, Holmes. You're worried about something. What you perceived as

agitation was indeed the most intense and tranquil enjoyment.

My eyes were closed because I was trying to recall as vividly as I could the

concert that we attended last night.

You were grinding your teeth.

That is because I made a slight error in my recollection of Joachim's fingering

in his cadenza in the third movement of the Beethoven Violin Concerto.

Nevertheless, there is an element of truth in what you say.

Ah!

A doctor!

A general practitioner, I believe.

Not been long in practice, or had much to do. Come to consult us, I fancy.

Lucky we came back.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Doctor!

This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Pray resume your seat and tell me how I may serve you.

Well, I am indeed a doctor.

My name is Percy Trevelyan. I live at number 403 Brook Street.

Aren't you the author of a monograph upon obscure nervous lesions?

Yes, but I so seldom hear of the work, I thought it quite dead.

By no means!

My publishers give me a most discouraging account of its sales.

You are yourself a medical man.

Retired army surgeon.

My hobby has always been the study of nervous disease.

I should, of course, like to make it an absolute speciality.

But a man must take what he can get first.

However, this is beside the question.

And I do appreciate, Mr Holmes, how very valuable your time is.

The fact is...

that a singular train of events has occurred recently at my house in Brook

Street, and tonight they came to such a head that I felt it was impossible to

wait another hour before asking for your advice and your assistance.

You are very welcome to both.

Let me have a detailed account of the circumstances which have disturbed you.

Well, one or two of them are so trivial that I am almost ashamed to mention

them. But the matter is so inexplicable and the recent turn it has taken so

elaborate that I shall lay it all before you and you shall judge what is

essential and what is not.

I am a London university man.

And I am not unduly singing my praises when I say I was a very promising

student. And it was thought a distinguished career lay before me.

However, there was one great stumbling block.

Money?

Indeed, Doctor, money.

I needed capital not only to practice, but also to get out of the squalid rooms

I was forced to rent.

I could not expect my patients to trust me if I could not afford the proper

equipment. Yes, I've seen it happen to too many of us.

I myself was obliged to go into the army in order to follow my career.

Indeed.

I had thought of abandoning my own career, except for one sudden and

incident. Exactly what kind of incident?

One morning, two years ago...

I received a visit from a man by the name of Blessington, who until that time

had been a complete stranger to me.

Come in.

Do you live here, in this?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

You are the same Percy Trevelyan who's had so distinguished a career, recently

won the Slater Award for Medicine?

I am.

Then answer me frankly, sir, and you'll find it in your interest to do so.

Despite your present financial situation, you clearly have all the

that makes a successful man.

But have you the tact?

I trust that I have my share, sir.

Any bad habits?

Not drawn toward drink? Not really, sir.

Quite right.

Quite right.

But I was bound to ask, why?

Why, sir?

Simply, why, with all these qualities, are you not in practice?

Come now, it's the old story. More in the brains than in the pocket, eh?

Now, sir, what would you say, sir, if I were to start you in Brook Street?

If a specialist is to succeed, he must aim high, and a practice in Brook Street

is just the beginning.

Capital, keep yourself in style, to hire a respectable carriage and horse,

surgery that's worthy of you, waiting room, servants, and the best equipment

that money can buy.

It is what you will have to.

But why?

It's just like any other investment.

Safer than most.

And what am I to do?

I'll tell you.

I will take the house, furnish it, pay the maids and run the whole place.

All you have to do is to wear out the chair in your consulting room.

Then you hand over to me three quarters of everything you earn and keep one

quarter for yourself.

Now, what do you say to that, sir?

Do you agree?

This, then, Mr Holmes, was the strange proposal with which Mr Blessington

approached me.

I will not weary you with how we bargained and negotiated.

But it ended with my moving into the house next quarter day and starting in

practice on very much the same conditions as he had suggested.

Waiting room for your patient.

Your consulting room.

I can't believe it, Mr. Blessington.

Nor can I thank you enough.

He turned the two best rooms on the first floor into a sitting room and a

bedroom for himself.

And came to live with me in the character of a resident patient.

His heart was weak, but not abnormal.

And yet he demanded constant medical supervision.

He was a man of singular habit, shunning company and very seldom going out,

except in one respect.

Every evening at the same time, he would go for a walk for half an hour exactly,

no matter what the weather.

And every evening at the same hour, he would walk into the consulting room.

He would then examine the books.

put down five improvements for every guinea I had earned, and then carry the

rest off to the strongbox in his own room.

I may say with confidence, Mr. Holmes, that he never had occasion to regret his

speculation.

From the first, it was a success.

And during the last two years, I have made him a rich man.

So much, Mr. Holmes, for my past history.

and my relations with the resident patient, Mr. Blessington.

It only remains for me now to tell you what has occurred to bring me here

tonight.

Some weeks ago, Mr. Blessington came down to me in, as it seemed to me, a

considerable state of agitation.

Dr. Trevelyan!

Dr. Trevelyan!

Dr. Trevelyan! Dr.

Trevelyan! Dr. Trevelyan! Dr. Trevelyan, sir! Mr.

Blessington, calm yourself, sir. Calm myself!

Calm myself!

But, my dear sir, have you not heard of the burglary?

The burglary?

Where? No, no, no, not here, sir, not here.

But it would have been... Within

a week, the whole house had

become a fortress of bolts and bars and locks.

Are you sure these bars are strong enough?

They'd be strong enough for the bank of England, sir.

When I questioned him upon the point, he became so offensive that I was

compelled to drop the subject.

At first, Mr. Holmes, I thought he merely sought to protect his strong

But then, I suspected that it was in life he was protected.

From then on, he stopped going out altogether, peered continually out of

windows, and kept himself locked in his room in what?

I can only describe as a state of mortal dread.

Dr Trevelyan, before you continue.

You say you found this man, Blessington, prostrate on his bed, clutching a

newspaper. More precisely, the remains of a newspaper.

For he had torn it to shreds.

Torn to shreds.

Do you recall the contents of this newspaper at all?

I'm afraid not, even if I'd known what I was looking for. When was this?

It was some weeks ago, the beginning of May, I think.

Gradually, as time passed, his fears appeared to die away, and he renewed his

former habits.

Good evening, Dr Trevelyan. Wonderful evening outside.

I'm beginning to enjoy my walks again.

And then suddenly, a fresh event reduced him to the pitiable state of

prostration in which he now lies.

What happened was, yesterday I received this letter.

from a Russian nobleman, now resident in England, who suffers from catalepsy.

In it, he announces his intention of visiting me for a consultation this very

evening at a quarter past six.

Because the chief difficulty in the study of catalepsy is the rareness of

disease, you may believe that at the appointed hour, I was eager to receive

patient.

Good evening, gentlemen.

I'm Dr Trevelyan.

And it was you, sir, I assume, who wrote to me?

My father speaks very little English, doctor, so I trust you will excuse

my coming in with him, as his health is a matter of the most overwhelming

importance to me. Yes, I respect that, sir. Fenton.

Perhaps, sir, you would like to join us for the consultation?

Niet, niet.

Not for the world.

It is more painful to me than I can express.

If I were to see my father in one of those dreadful seizures, I am convinced

would never survive it.

My own nervous system is an exceptionally sensitive one.

With your permission, I will remain in your waiting room while you go into my

father's case. Yes, of course.

Ah, thank you, Doc.

Now, sir, I hope you will forgive me if I ask you a few basic questions.

And first, can you tell me your age?

Sixty -seven.

And apart from catalepsy, would you say you were physically sound?

Normally, do you have good health?

No headaches?

Abdominal pain?

Any pain at all?

No. Good.

Naturally, I will examine you thoroughly, but this is merely a

Do you smoke cigars?

Yes.

Do you drink alcohol?

Vodka.

Vodka?

Every day.

My first feeling was one of pity and horror.

My second, I fear, was rather one of professional satisfaction.

There was nothing markedly abnormal in his condition which had harmonized with

my former experiences.

I had obtained good results in such cases by the inhalation of nitrite of

and the present seemed an admirable opportunity of testing its virtues.

Now, sir, I believe you can hear me.

I shall be back directly, rest assured.

Fenton, the two gentlemen you showed in less than 15 minutes ago, did you see

them leave?

Leave? No, sir.

Are you sure?

I'm positive, sir.

Good evening, Dr Trevelyan.

Good evening, Mr Blessington.

And how was your walk today?

A little rain, but very amiable, my good sir. Very amiable.

Did you hear them leave? No, sir.

I was nowhere near the hall.

Well, you should have been.

That is your duty. Now, I know you are new here, but you should know by now.

Doctor!

Doctor!

Doctor! Doctor!

Someone has been in my room!

No one has been in your room, sir. You're lying.

You're lying to me. I assure you I am not.

Fenton, have you been in Mr. Blessington's room?

Of course I haven't.

There you are, you see.

Then come up and see for yourself.

Now, sir.

telling me that they are mine?

Well, at first glance, they do appear to be too large for yours.

Of course they're not mine.

I always remove my galoshes at the front door.

Has anything been stolen?

No, but that's not the point.

Nothing has been stolen? My privacy has been invaded by a stranger. Is that not

enough?

Mr. Blessington?

Mr.

Blessington? Leave me alone.

Go away, leave me alone.

Surely there's something I can do to help.

Shall I call the police?

No. No, not those bunglers.

There's only one person who can help me now.

And that is why I am here.

But I must apologize for such a trivial reason.

A thief that doesn't steal.

Did he ask for me by name?

Oh, yes.

Then let us be on our way.

Thank you.

This way.

not recognize me.

Is that you, Doctor?

Yes, of course it is me.

It's the other two gentlemen.

Are they what they pretend to be?

They are Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his friend, Dr. Watson.

Good God, Mr. Blessington, it was you that asked me to fetch them.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Gentlemen, do come up.

I'm sorry if my precautions have annoyed you.

Good evening, Mr Holmes.

I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you for coming round.

No -one has ever needed your advice more than I. No -one.

I expect Dr Tovellin has told you of this unwarrantable intrusion into my

Why, sir, Mr Blessington, who are these two men?

Which two men? I don't know them.

Then why do they wish to molest you?

Molest me?

You can hardly expect me to answer that. You mean that you don't know?

Come in here, please.

Just have the kindness to step in here.

I've never been a rich man, Mr Holmes.

I've never made but one investment in my life. Dr Trevelyan will tell you that.

But I don't believe in bankers, sir.

Never trust a banker, Mr Holmes. Never.

It's between ourselves.

What little I have is here, in this strongbox.

So you can understand what it means to me when unknown people force themselves

into my rooms.

Mr Blackington.

I cannot possibly advise you if you try to deceive me.

Deceive you?

But I've told you everything.

Good night, Dr Trevelyan.

Mr Holmes!

No advice for me? My advice to you is to speak the truth.

I can read in a man's eye whether it's his own skin that he's frightened of.

Yes, but why did you call him alive? Because I am certain that he does know

these men are.

Clare!

The young Russian penetrated a Blessington's room while his confederate

doctor from interfering. And, of course, catalepsy is a very easy complaint to

imitate. Yes, I know. I've done it myself.

Holmes? Yes.

Might there be one alternative, grotesquely improbable, no doubt, but

conceivable?

Might the whole story of the cataleptic Russian Nissan be a concoction of Dr

Trevelyan's, who, for his own purposes, has been in Blessington's room? But did

you see the footprints on the stair carpet?

They were square -toed.

Quite unlike Blessington's, which are round and an inch and a third longer

Dr Trevelyan's. I think we can sleep on this one, sir.

But I should be surprised if we do not hear from Brook Street in the morning.

Good night.

Night, Elka.

Morning, Doctor.

Your tea's here.

Thank you, Nora.

Mr. Blackington, your breakfast tea.

Mr. Blackington?

Watson, get dressed quickly.

There's a cab waiting for us.

Why? What's the matter?

The Brook Street business.

Any fresh news?

For God's sake, come at once to Trevelyan.

Mr Holmes, I'm so glad you've come.

What has happened?

Mr Blackington has committed suicide.

Suicide? Yes.

He hanged himself during the night.

Has the body been touched?

No.

Where's the page?

Nowhere to be found.

Good morning, Inspector.

Mr. Holmes, delighted to see you.

Now, please take a look.

We were just about to take him down.

Right, Inspector.

Stretcher!

Well, that'll be all.

Have you heard of the events leading up to this affair?

Yes, Dr Trevelyan has told me something of them. And have you formed an opinion?

As far as I can see, the man was driven out of his senses by fright.

The bed has been well slept in.

There was this impression deep enough for all to see.

It is about five in the morning, you know, that suicides are most common.

would be about the time that he hanged himself.

Seems to be a very deliberate affair.

Yes, from the rigidity of the limbs, I'd say I've been dead about three hours.

Thank you, Watson.

Noticed anything peculiar about the room?

There was a screwdriver on the mantelpiece, and he seems to have smoked

during the night. I found these in the fireplace.

Have you his

cigar holder?

No, I haven't seen one.

His cigar case, then?

Yes, it was in his coat pocket.

This is Ravana.

And these others are the cigars of the peculiar sort which are imported by the

Dutch from their East Indian colonies.

They're usually wrapped in straw, you know, and are thinner for their length

than any other brand.

I don't suppose you've read my monograph on cigars and cigar ash.

Well, I... No, of course not. Thank you.

These have been smoked for the whole day.

These without.

These have been cut by a not very sharp knife.

And these have had their end bitten off by... But had a very excellent deal.

There were three men here last night.

Good heavens.

But nothing was stolen, so what were they doing here?

That is what we have to find out.

How did they get in?

The same way we did, through the front door.

But the door was barred in the morning.

Then it was barred after they left.

Well, how do you know that?

I saw that trace.

If you would just give me a few moments, Inspector, I may be able to give you

some further information.

Good move.

The actual facts are that simple.

I'd be surprised if by the afternoon I cannot give you the reasons for them as

well. But, Holmes, can't you tell us anything now?

Oh.

There is no doubt as to the sequence of events.

There's three of them in it.

A young man, an old man, and a third, two whose identity I have no clue.

The first two I need hardly remark.

were the same who masqueraded as the Russian count and his son.

So we can give a very good description of them, can we not, Dr Trevelyan?

They were admitted by a confederate inside the house.

They entered the hall, the elder man first, the younger man second,

and the unknown man in the rear.

ascended the stairs.

With the help of a wire, they forced the key.

Even without the lens, you can see where the pressure has been applied.

On entering the room, the first proceeding must have been to gag Mr.

Blessington.

Having secured Blessington, it is evident to me that a consultation of

was held, probably in the nature of a judicial proceeding.

It must have lasted for some time, but it was then that the cigars were smoked.

It was there that the older man sat, in the wicker chair.

It was he who used the cigar holder.

The younger man sat there.

He knocked his ash off against the chest of drawers.

The unknown fellow...

Place up and down.

Blessington, I think, sat upright in the bed, but of that I cannot be absolutely

certain.

It ended, of course, by them taking Blessington.

Now, this matter was so prearranged that it is my belief that they brought with

them some sort of block or pulley to serve as a gallows.

Oh, yes, a gallows, Inspector.

This was a revenge ritual.

What an extraordinary story.

But what proof?

I'll have it before the day's out.

You haven't explained about the screws in the screwdriver.

That was to fix up the block or pulley. But when they saw the chandelier hook,

they naturally saved themselves the trouble. Now, Inspector, I suggest that

immediately make inquiries about the page and arrest him.

Certainly, Mr. Holmes. I will be back here a little before three o 'clock.

Okay.

I dare say Mrs. Hudson will be a little put out when she sees all this.

What are you looking for?

Worthington. W.

Worthington. March.

1880, I'm sure.

March 8th.

18?

Or Thutton, as he was known then.

Mrs. Hudson?

Your little boat is coming along beautifully, Doctor.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I must run.

Dr Trevelyan, any news, Inspector?

Yes, sir, we've got the page. Drinking his earnings, two streets away. But I've

got the map.

You've got them? Well, at least I've got that identity.

The Worthington bank gang?

Precisely. What?

Then Blessington must have been Sutton. Exactly.

Well, that makes it clear as crystal. Not to me, I'm afraid. Dr Watson, would

you... You may have heard of the Great Worthington Bank Affair. There were five

men in it. The three who were in this room, a fourth named Cartwright,

And bled.

It's a hanging job now.

Only if someone squeals.

That's him.

Are you positive?

Oh, yes.

That's him.

Sorry, Mr Sutton.

It's a hanging job now.

Sutton! Are you here?

Sutton, or Lessington, who was the worst of the gang, turned informant.

On his evidence, Cartwright was hanged, and the other three got 15 years of

peace.

Biddle, Hayward and Martha were released from prison just a few weeks ago, which

was several years before their full term.

It was news of their release which caused Blessington to panic and have

house procured. So it was not the fear of burglary that had frightened him? No,

no, no. That was a mere blind.

And so setting me up in practice was an elaborate charade to protect himself.

Well, why could he not tell you this?

He was trying to hide his own identity from everybody for as long as he could.

His secret was shameful.

and he couldn't bring himself to divulge it.

However, wretch as he was, he was still living under the shield of British law.

And I have no doubt, Inspector, that we shall see that though that shield may

fail to guard, the sword of justice is still there to avenge.

In spite of the efforts of Sherlock Holmes, the three murderers of

eluded the police and fled the country aboard a ship bound for Portugal.

It was a few weeks later that we learned that the ship, the Noracrena, had sunk

with all hands upon the Portuguese coast some leagues to the north of Oporto.

Holmes! What's wrong?

Well, it's just that I was going to spend the day writing.

The case of Dr Trevelyan, while the facts are still fresh.

I mean... I understand.

Thanks awfully.

It's just that it is difficult to concentrate otherwise.

What will you entitle this particular account?

I didn't know you were interested in my writing.

I am always interested in your choice of titles.

Well, I thought I'd call it The Brook Street Mystery.

No?

Well, I myself would prefer The Resident Patient.

But please, do not let me influence you.

Brooks Street Mystery.

No doubt.