Original subtitles

Let's do this.

You're a piece of shit!

Don't you dare open your mouth and talk to me about your little shit with pride!

I love him, I still love him with all my heart!

Shut up or your mouth is full of mud!

Let me go!

I want to be with him right now!

You're a piece of shit!

My life is his, I love him!

Aren't you ashamed?

No! I'll kill you!

Getro! Stop it!

You've disrespected us, you're not ashamed!

Una puttana! Una puttana!

Ha disonorato la famiglia e me! Quel bastardo ha violato il suo onore e

della nostra famiglia! E se non fai niente, ci penserò io a portare a...

Anything remarkable on Handler Street?

No.

Nothing in particular.

Then tell us about it.

You come to mention it, Mr. Holmes. There's no denying there is something on

mind.

It first came to my notice four days ago.

A certain Morse hut has a shop for the sale of pictures and statues in the

Kennington Road.

But what happened last night was more serious and also more singular.

Burglary. Exactly.

A house of a Dr.

Barneycott was broken into.

Now, this bus was one of a pair purchased from Morse Hudson by Dr.

He had put it in his house.

The other he put two miles away in his surgery.

Later that same night...

This

is certainly very novel.

Yes, I thought it would please you.

Though, in my opinion, it comes more into Dr Watson's line than ours.

Disease? I should say madness.

Queer sort of madness, too.

You wouldn't think there was anybody living nowadays, would you, to have such

hatred for Napoleon Bonaparte?

Ah, actually, there are no limits to the possibilities of monomania.

You see, there is the condition that the modern French psychologists have called

an edé fixe.

If someone became obsessed with, say, an injustice committed to an ancestor

during the Napoleonic Wars, he might form an Ide fix, and under its

he might be capable of any fantastic outbreak.

But, you know, that won't do.

How do you explain it, then?

I don't attempt to do so.

I see.

I would simply observe.

There is a certain method in this gentleman's eccentric madness.

I mean, for example, in Dr Barnacott's house, where a sound might arise with

sleeping family, the bus was taken outside before being broken, whereas in

surgery, where there was less danger of alarm, it was smashed where it stood.

I only mention it because you usually have a taste for all that is out of the

common, no matter how trivial.

I dare call nothing trivial astray. Some of the most classic cases have had the

least promising commencement.

Yeah, that dreadful business of the Abernethy family.

I hardly call the dismemberment of an entire family trivial.

Would you be so kind as to explain?

What?

The point is that it only came to Holmes's notice because of the depth to

the path was bungled to the butter on a hot day.

Ah.

Ah.

So, you see, I cannot afford to smile at your three -buckle, Lestrade.

However, I would be obliged if you could keep me informed as to development.

Listen to this, Holmes.

Come instantly.

131 Pitt Street, Kensington, Lestrade.

What's it about?

It could be anything, but I suspect it's the equal to the story of last night.

You know, my E -Day fix.

Finish your coffee.

There's a cab at the door.

Two minutes.

It's attempted murder, at least.

Nothing less would hold the London message, boy. There's a deed of violence

that young fellow's round shoulders and that stretched neck.

Well, Lestrade will soon tell us.

Look at this, Watson.

The bottom steps swill down and the others dry.

One step's enough, anyhow.

This was whose?

The Napoleon buff business again, gentlemen.

They've smacked another.

I'm afraid the affair has taken a graver turn.

This way.

Mr. Harker, allow me to present Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

Mr. Horace Harker of the Central Press Syndicate.

Good of you to come, gentlemen.

Please forgive my agitation.

No apology necessary, Mr Harker. A body on one front doorstep is always

unsettling.

You've told him, then? Not a word.

Now, tell us exactly what occurred.

Extraordinary thing.

All my life, I've been collecting other people's news.

And now I have a real -life story of my own and I can't put two words together.

If I had been a journalist and walked in through that door, I would have

interviewed myself and had two columns in every London newspaper.

And here I am, giving away valuable copy by telling my story over and over again

to a string of different people.

However, I've heard of your name, Mr Sherlock Holmes.

So if you could...

Explain this queer business.

I'd be more than paid for my trouble in putting you my toy.

A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night in my den.

In that room adjacent to this one.

At some time in the small hours of this morning.

Thank you.

I shall live that moment over and over again in my dreams.

Do we know who the murdered man was? Not yet, but you can see the body at the

mortuary if you wish.

Where did you purchase your bust, Mr Harker?

From Mr Hudson of Kennington Road.

Do we know what became of it?

The officer at the door tells me it's been found in the front garden of an

house in Camden House Road.

I was just going round to see it. Will you come?

In a moment, Lestrade.

Well, the intruder had either very long legs or was the most active man. With

that area beneath, it was no mean feat to climb up to this ledge, let alone...

to open the window.

Mr. Harker.

Will you come with us to see the remains of your bust?

I must make something of it, although I've no doubt that every newspaper in

London will be on the street with a full and detailed account.

Just my luck.

Do you remember when the stand fell down at the Doncaster races?

I was the only journalist in that stand. My journal was the only one that didn't

have a published account because I was too shaken to write a word.

Now, I should be too late with a murder on my own doorstep.

Well?

We have a long way to go, but there is one suggestive fact. He didn't smash

in the house or immediately outside it.

Well, perhaps he was so rattled and bustled by meeting this other fellow

hardly knew what he was doing.

That's likely enough. But why did he choose to destroy it outside this

particular house?

It's empty.

So he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

Yes. But there's another empty house further up the street. He must have

Why not destroy it there?

The lamp!

By Jove, you're right.

What are we to make of that?

Holmes, remember it.

Docket it.

We may come on something later which will bear upon it. Meanwhile, before we

our separate ways, I suggest we make one last concerted visit.

Where to?

The morgue.

Nothing of his identity up to now.

He was poorly dressed, but doesn't seem to have been a labourer. Whoever's

responsible did an arty job on the fellow's throat.

That was the murder weapon.

Had a serrated blade.

Though whether it belonged to the murderer or the dead man, we don't yet

Anything in his pocket to help identify him?

Precious little.

If it might interest you, Mr Holmes.

Forgive me, Lestrade. I was just contemplating.

The one mystery that not even I can solve.

Death itself.

Pray continue.

As you can see, he carries very little.

An apple, some string, a shilling map of London.

Enough for photographs.

Part of one, it's torn.

Look.

Ugly -looking devil.

Positively Simian.

What steps do you propose next, Lestrade?

The most practical way of getting at it, in my opinion, is to identify the dead

man. Once we know who he is and who his associates are, we should have a good

start in learning who killed him on the doorstep of Mr. Horace Harker.

Don't you think so, Mr.

Holmes? No doubt. It is not the way that I would conduct the case.

Then what would you do?

Don't let me influence you, Lestrade.

I suggest you follow your line of inquiry and I mine.

Then we can compare notes.

They need to complement the other. But if you are returning to Pitt Street, I

would be grateful if you would tell Mr. Harker that I have quite made up my mind

in this matter.

I'm certain that it was a dangerous and homicidal lunatic with Napoleonic

delusions who took our life.

We'll help him in this article.

You don't seriously believe that, Holmes, don't I? Well, perhaps not.

I'm sure it will please Mr. Horace Harker and the subscribers to

the Central Press Agency.

I would be grateful, Australia, if you could make it convenient to come round

Beck Street at six o 'clock this evening.

Until then, I would like to keep this photograph.

Found in the dead man's pocket. Oh, Mr Holmes, that might be a vital clue.

I trust it is, otherwise it's of no interest to me.

Good luck this train.

What we pay our taxes for, I don't know.

When any ruffian can walk in and break one's goods under one's nose.

A superb bit of craftsmanship it was, too.

Taken from a marble copy of the Emperor's Head by Devine.

Are you familiar by any chance with that great artiste? Yes, indeed. Speaking of

familiarity, do you recognise the man in this photograph?

Man in the photograph?

Ah, yes, indeed I do, Mr Holmes.

The name is Beppo.

Beppo? Yes, he was a sort of Italian piecework man who made himself useful

in the shop.

Oh, he could do carve a bit and frame and gild.

I took him on about ten days ago, but he only stayed a week and then just

disappeared.

Didn't even collect his wages.

Perhaps he was responsible for the breakages.

Responsible for the breakages?

Responsible for the breakages?

My dear sir, this is an international conspiracy.

A nihilist plot.

Red Republicans, I call them.

Yeah, no one but an anarchist would go about breaking statues.

Did they break every one that you sold?

Break every one I sold?

Well, hardly that.

Just the two bought by a local doctor and the one left here in my shop.

If anything happened to the other three, I know nothing of it. Three? So there

were six to begin with?

Six to begin with? Yes, yes, a batch of six.

I ordered them especially from Gelder and Company of Stepney.

They do excellent moulding work.

Do you happen to know the names and addresses of the other customers?

My ledgers, Mr Holmes, are confidential.

Mr Hudson.

If your theory is correct, you oughtn't be to warn these people of this... this

most dangerous plot.

And, uh...

Who better to do that than Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Yes, quite right, quite right, sir.

Yes, the country slumbers, but we shall remain vigilant.

Follow me, sir.

We are. Mrs. Josiah Brown of Chiswick and Mrs. Sanderson of Redding.

Mrs.? Yes.

Mr. Hudson?

Yes?

Did your two busts differ in any way from the other four?

Differ from the other four?

No, no, they were all identical.

And all with the beautiful decoration, which I ordered especially.

Yes, but apart from the decoration, were your six busts the same as all the

others? The same as all the others? Well, I suppose so.

But you'd have to apply direct to Gelderland Company to find that out in

Excellent idea.

Uh, gentlemen.

Gentlemen! When you meet the manager, would you be good enough to warn him of

the conspiracy?

With all the busts they have on the premises, the Red Republicans could have

field day.

Normally, we've had the busts. without decoration.

But Mr. Hudson ordered that the whole uniform be painted.

It was expertly done and made it a very special issue.

In terms of the construction, however, there is no reason why these six

Napoleon's we sold to him should be different from hundreds of others.

You see, the two molds are poured together and filled with plaster to make

these parts.

Are they solid?

Morning. Of course.

Then they are placed in a special room to die and afterwards stored.

The wholesale price is six shillings, but the retailer will get twelve or

I can't think of no reason.

Someone will wish to destroy them.

Or murder for them.

Well.

So, your interest in the molding process had ulterior motives.

Herr Mendelstam, I wonder if you happen to recognize the man in this photograph.

Ah, little rascal.

Yes, indeed.

I'm very well.

This has always been a respectable establishment, and the only time we ever

the police in here was over this fellow.

About a year ago, he knifed another Italian in the street, and down in here

the police on his heels.

Was his name Beppo, by any chance?

Beppo, yes.

His second name I never knew.

Served me right for employing a man with such a face.

But he was a good workman, one of the best.

Do you happen to remember exactly when he was arrested?

I could check the pay list.

According to Morse Hudson's records, you've held him six Napoleons on June

3rd of last year.

I see.

That is correct.

And Beppo?

Last court acted his wages on May the 20th of that same year. Then he must

been arrested sometime the following week.

Well, no doubt the police have the exact details.

The young Italian survived, so Beppo went only to prison for one year.

We have a cousin of his wife. Back in here, perhaps you would wish to speak

him? No.

Not a word to the cousin, I beg of you.

The matter is very important, and the further I go with it, the more important

it seems.

So, yeah, I really thought his cousin might know when Beppo is to be released.

Herr Mendelstam, if my surmises are correct,

our friend Beppo has been out of jail for at least 11 days.

Ach, du lieber Gott.

What do you mean? The press is a very valuable institution if one knows how to

use it.

Very cunning, Holmes.

Thank you, Watson.

Let's trade.

Mr. Holmes.

Doctor. Please, sit down.

Oh.

Thank you.

Well, um... What luck, Mr. Holmes.

We've had a very busy day.

Not entirely wasted.

I can trace each of them apart.

now from the beginning.

The busts.

Well, of course, you have your own methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Not for me to say a word against them, but I think I've done a better day's

than you.

I've identified the dead man.

Splendid. Who is it?

Pietro Venucci, son of a respectable Italian tradesman, but involved with a

secret political society.

Red anarchists?

Oh, you've been talking to Morse Hudson, haven't you?

Do go on, Lestrade.

I refer, of course, to the Mafia, which, as you may know, enforces its decrees

by assassination.

Obviously, our murderer broke the rules in some fashion, and Pietro is put on

his track, possibly with that photograph to aid identification.

They meet, and Pietro receives his own death wound in the scuffle.

Excellent, Lestrade, but I don't quite follow your explanation of the

destruction of the baths.

They can never get those butts out of your head. The butts are nothing.

Petty last me six months at most. No, no, no.

It's murder we're really investigating.

And I tell you, I'm gathering all the threads into my hand.

And the next stage?

Oh, well, now.

We have an inspector who's made a speciality of the Italian Quarter.

I shall go down there with him, find the man in that photograph you're carrying,

arrest him for murder.

What do you say, Mr Holmes?

Will you come with us?

I think not.

I fancy Chiswick as the address most likely to find him.

Chiswick? If you and some of your men will come with us to Chiswick tonight, I

will go to the Italian quarter with you tomorrow, and there will be no harm in

the delay.

I suggest you dine with us.

And then you're welcome to the sofa.

A few hours' sleep will do us all good.

I don't intend to leave the house before eleven.

And it is unlikely that we shall be home before morning.

But, Mr. Holmes... In the meantime, I have a letter to send by express

messenger. Mrs. Hudson!

Mrs. Hudson!

She's sick.

Queste non sono cose da donne.

Ho disonorato la famiglia.

E lo devo fare io.

Sono io il capo famiglia.

È mio dovere.

Clock, gentlemen, on your feet.

Come along, Lestrade.

Watson, I think you've been over -generous with the port.

You're frugal enough with your information.

Ah, that will be our poor wheeler.

Don't forget the revolver, Watson, and bring the rugs.

This outing wouldn't be inspired by your I .D. fix, would it? I .D. fix?

Yes. There was plaster bust.

I had great hopes, Lestrade.

In fact, the betting is exactly two to one, that if you come with us tonight,

you'll have the murderer in custody before the sun rises.

I'm not a betting man, Mr. Holmes. Then you have nothing to lose by, do you?

Except a good night's sleep.

Watson, if you've caught a cold, it's your fault.

You left the rugs behind.

Sorry, Holmes.

Is that two o 'clock?

Don't suppose we can smoke, can we? No. No, thought as much.

Are your men in position?

Oh, yes.

Have a humbug, Lestrade.

Watson, this is no time for humbugs.

Becton. And then Pepper.

Good name for a mongrel.

You leave by the back door.

How do you know that? Because all the other doors are locked.

Oh, dear.

It's smashed.

Mr. Josiah Brown, I presume. Yes, sir. And you know that one, Mr. Sherlock

Holmes. I had the note you sent by the express messenger, and I did exactly as

you told me.

Following your instructions, we locked every door so as to lead him into the

back. And I'm very glad to see you have the rascal.

Now, I hope, gentlemen, that you will come in and partake of some refreshment.

Thank you, Mr. Brown.

The hour is rather late.

Good night.

Oh, good night.

Well, Watson, we have work to do. Work?

What work?

Lestrade, if you will come round to Baker Street tonight at six o 'clock, I

to be able to show you that you still have not grasped the full meaning of

business. Oh, I think you'll find my theory of the Mafia will work out all

right, Mr Holmes.

Good night, Lestrade.

Come along now.

Make a street, please.

And now, Watson, I commend to you the universal answer to almost all problems.

What's that, Holmes?

Sleep.

Buon giorno.

Cati come questi.

E' importante.

Ecco, signor Holmes.

Grazie, signor.

Morning, Watson.

The manager of Gelder and Company was mainly responsible for Beppo's initial

arrest. We see the breaking of the bus as a pathetic attempt to revenge

And it was possibly the senseless acts of violence which transgressed the

Mafia's code of behaviour and led to the murder of young Venucci.

There.

Think that takes care of those details you mentioned last night?

Don't you, Mr Holmes?

Yes, Watson. Well, what do you think of Lestrade's theories?

I'm sure that they have the greatest interest, but I regret to say I've not

listened to a word of them. Forgive my inattention, Lestrade. I had a rather

late night. What do you think I had?

Come in.

Isn't the Sherlock Holmes here?

I fear I am a little late, but the trains were very awkward.

No matter, no matter, have you brought the item?

Well,

these are my friends and colleagues, Dr Watson and Inspector Lestrade of

Scotland Yard. You may speak freely in front of them.

Gentlemen, you said in your telegram that Mr Hudson had given you my address.

Santa for the ready. How do you do?

It's those butts again.

Correct, Lestrade.

Did he also tell you just how much my wife paid for it?

No, he did not.

Well, sir, I am an honest man, though not a very rich one, and she only gave

shillings for it, and I think you ought to know that before I take the 10 pounds

from you that you offered in your telegram. I have scrupled, don't you

honor, Mr. Sandler, but I have stated my price, and I shall stick to it.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes. That's very handsome of you. Your bust, sir.

You know, my wife has always maintained that there is a marked resemblance

between myself and the emperor.

Can't say I see it myself.

Napoleon. I contacted Mr. Sandford by telegram this morning.

Now, if you will sign this paper in front of witnesses, it is fit to say

that you transfer every possible right that you could ever have in the bust to

me. Happy to, Mr. Holmes. Happy, happy, happy. I am a methodical man, and one

never knows what turn events may take afterwards. Here is your pen pound

and good evening, Mr.

Sandford. Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Holmes. Good evening, gentlemen.

Okay. And very, very kind of you. And thank you so much. And I'm very pleased

I'm here. Thank you so much. Oh, my bad.

Now, gentlemen, if you would give me your undivided attention.

Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to one of the most precious objects in the

world.

The famous black pearl of the Borgias.

Oh, oh, bravo!

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!

Oh, your Leisure de Main.

Rivals that of Matclay himself?

Oh, this is a part of it.

The Borgia Pearl's been missing since it disappeared from the Prince of

Colonna's bedroom in that Dacre Hotel over a year ago.

As you may remember, the state I was consulted upon the case at the time.

Observe and learn.

The moment the name Venucci surfaced in this case, I immediately became

intrigued.

The princess of Colonna's maid for some time had been one Lucrezia Venucci.

Suspicion fell on her.

And it was proved that she had a brother in London, but we failed to trace any

connection between them.

Beppo was the connection.

He had been courting.

Lucrezia Venucci.

For some time.

Where did you get that?

Papa Venucci.

Oh, I see.

When the Venucci family planned to steal the black pearl, they used Beppo as a

go -between for Lucrezia and her brother.

Beppo gleaned enough information to execute the robbery himself and make off

with the pearl.

Pietro Venucci, the brother, caught up with him outside Gelder's workshop.

Beppo... tabbed him, he then fled into the warehouse and took refuge in the

drying room.

He knew he only had moments in which to conceal the pearl, which would otherwise

be found on him when he was searched.

Among all the plaster casts drying that day, he made for a batch of six that had

been earmarked for Morse Hudson, and the base of one of them was still fast.

place.

As soon as Beppo got out of prison, he managed to find employment with Mr.

Hutton and set about tracking the six Napoleons down.

He found and destroyed three of them.

But the night he located Harker's, Pietro Venucci, intent on vengeance,

accosted him and this time Beppo.

Flit his throat. With only two busts left, it was likely he would try the

one first.

And our visit to Chiswick. Exactly, Watson.

That left only the Reading bust.

I bought it in your presence from the owner.

And there it lies.

Well, Mr Holmes.

I've seen you handle a good many cases in my time.

But I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than this.

We're not jealous of you, you know, Scotland Yard.

Oh, sir, we're proud of you.

And if you come down tomorrow, there's not a man from the oldest inspector to

the youngest constable.

I wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Would you get down the conch, Fingleton, forgery case, please, Watson?

Goodbye, Lestrade.

Now, if any little problem comes your way, I shall be happy, if I can, to give

you a hint or two as to its solution.

Bye.

E' finita, Lucrezia.