Original subtitles

Thank you.

Evening, Mr. West.

Third class, London Bridge. Single or return?

Oh, it doesn't matter. Single.

Quickly.

Must have fallen from the train.

Yeah, look at his head.

You nip back to the station. Tell him what happened.

I'll stay here.

Easy.

It's a real pea soup.

Nothing in the paper, Watson?

No, there's another revolution in South America, a possible war in Africa.

Nothing of interest to you.

The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow.

That he for the murderer could roam London on a day like this, as the tiger

the jungle, unseen until he pounces.

And then evident only to his victims.

There are numerous petty thefts.

Well, that's great. And from the stage it's set for something more worthy than

that.

It is fortunate for the community that I am not a criminal. It is indeed.

Well, they don't have fogs in the Latin countries, the countries of

assassination.

For you, Mr Holmes. Thank you.

Mr Holmes! Yes, I know. I apologise for the state of my room.

My brother Mycroft is coming round.

Oh, why not?

Why not?

This is as if you met a tram car coming down a country lane.

Mycroft has his lines and he runs on them.

Pall Mall Lodgings, the Diogenes Club, Whitehall, that's his cycle. Once, only

once, has he ever been here. I mean, what upheaval can possibly have derailed

him?

I must see you over Cadogan West coming at once. Cadogan West? I've heard the

name. It'll cause nothing to my mind.

Mycroft breaking out in this erratic fashion, it's extraordinary.

Watson, you do know what Mycroft is.

I seem to remember at the time of that affair, the Greek interpreter, you told

me that he had some small office under the British government.

Oh, I didn't know you quite so well in those days.

His position is unique.

He's married to himself.

There's never been anything like it before, nor will be again.

He has the tidiest and most orderly brain, with the greatest capacity for

storing fact.

of any man living.

The conclusions of every government department are passed to him. He is the

central exchange which makes out the balance.

All other men are specialists.

His specialism is omniscience.

Time and time again, Mycroft's word has decided national policy.

Then Jupiter himself is descending upon us today.

Yes, indeed.

No trace of Cadogan, was it?

Where?

I have it.

Yeah. Cadogan West.

Cadogan West was the young man who was found dead on the underground on Tuesday

morning. Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes. The teacher escaped, I remember.

Young man killed, falling from a moving train, no robbery, no violence.

What?

Brother Michael.

Oh.

That looks like our old friend, Inspector Bradford.

Why don't people believe Cadogan West?

Yeah? Who? Duggan West.

Clark at the Woolwich Arsenal, 27, unmarried. Government employee, but on

link with my brother, Mycroft.

Sherlock! Mycroft!

Ah!

Doctor... Watson.

Watson. You know Bradstreet? Holmes, Dr. Watson. Duggan West.

The most annoying business, Sherlock.

I extremely dislike altering my habits.

that the powers that be would brook no denial.

In the present state of Siam, it's most awkward I should be away from the

office.

But it is a real crisis, Sherlock.

I've never seen the Prime Minister so upset.

And as to the Admiralty, buzzing like an overturned beehive.

Do sit down, Bradstreet.

There's nothing unusual reported in the newspaper.

I should hope not.

The wretched youth had the plans of the Bruce Partington submarine in his

pocket.

Well, you must have heard of it.

Only by name. Its importance can hardly be exaggerated.

It has been the most closely guarded of all government secrets. You may take it

from me that naval warfare becomes impossible within the radius of a Bruce

Partington operation.

So what sort of plans are we talking about?

Extremely intricate ones, Sherlock.

Some 30 different patents, each one essential to the working of the home.

are the plans normally kept?

In an elaborate safe in a confidential office adjoining the arsenal at Woolwich

with burglar -proof doors and windows.

If the chief constructor of the Navy himself desired to consult the plans, he

would have to go to Woolwich to do so.

To think they should turn up in the pocket of a dead junior clerk in the

of London is simply awful.

Then he recovered the papers.

No, Sherlock, no, that's the pinch. We have not.

Some ten papers were taken from Woolwich.

Only seven were found in the pocket of Cadogan West.

The other three are missing, gone, vanished, stolen.

You must drop everything, Sherlock.

Never mind your usual petty puzzles of the police courts. This is a real

international crisis that you have to solve.

There are some points of interest in the case, I suppose.

I'll be pleased to look into it.

Bradstreet. Now, who held the keys to that safe?

There are two sets of keys.

Sir James Walter holds one set. He is the actual official guardian of the

papers. A man grown grey in the service of the state.

A favoured guest and the most exalted houses. His patriotism is above

And the other keys?

A Mr Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk and draftsman. A silent, morose man. Not

popular, but a hard worker.

His wife corroborates his account of the matter. He was at home the whole of

Monday night and the keys never left the watch chain upon which they hang.

What sort of fellow was this man, West?

Hot -headed, rather impetuous.

His duties brought him into daily contact with the plants.

Who locked them up that night? Johnson, the senior clerk.

And yet they were found on the person of the junior clerk. Well, I mean, that

seems final, does it not?

Why would he take them? Do you think of any reason why he should take them up to

London except to sell them?

Nope. He must take them as a working hypothesis.

Well, he could only have done this.

With false keys. He opens the safe, takes out the papers, goes up to London

see a foreign agent.

Perhaps they'll have them back before morning, or the lot will be discovered.

He took away ten.

Ten were in his pocket.

What became of the other three?

He certainly wouldn't leave them of his own free will.

It all seems perfectly clear to me.

As you say, Mr Holmes, West stole the plans in order to sell them.

He met the agent, but they could not agree as to a price.

Sir West returned home again, but the agent followed him.

In the train, the agent murdered him, took the more essential papers, and

the body from the railway carriage.

Now, that would explain everything, would it not?

It's good.

It's very good, Rand Street.

The theory holds together.

But if that is so, the case is at an end.

On the one hand, the traitor is dead. On the other, the plans of the Bruce

Partington submarine are presumably somewhat on the continent. I mean, what

there for me to do?

To act, Sherlock.

To act.

All my instincts are against this explanation.

And yours too, I think.

We are not brothers for nothing.

Use your powers.

Go to the scene. Question the people concerned. Leave no stone unturned.

In all your career, you'll never have a greater chance of serving your country.

If you want your part, it will be kind enough to send me a complete list of

foreign spies and international agents than there to be in England.

And their full address.

Either we, on our part, can begin our investigation by a visit to Walgett

Station. That's... Watson!

Mrs. Hudson!

Good evening!

When was the body found?

Near enough to six o 'clock, sir. Tuesday morning.

He must have bought them from a train sometime Monday night. Now, the

been examined for any signs of violence. No such trace of violence has been

found. No report of a door found.

We can tell the approximate time that he entered the train from his ticket.

There was no ticket on the body.

That is really very singular.

In my experience, it is not possible to reach the platform of the Metropolitan

Line without exhibiting one's ticket. Is that not so?

Quite correct, sir. Surely the murderer would have removed the ticket before

throwing West from the train so as not to reveal the name of the station

his place of residence.

I think the doctor has it.

What else did he have in his possession besides papal papers and no tickets?

Usual things.

Pocketbook, note case, checkbook.

Oh, and two tickets for the dress circle of the Woolwich Theatre for that very

evening.

It appears that West was to have attended the performance.

In the company of his fiancée, Miss Violet Westbury.

She was the last person to see him alive on the fatal night.

They were walking to the theatre together in the fog when he suddenly

Suddenly, without explanation? No.

There appears to be no bleeding on the line. There was hardly any trace of

to be found. As I gather, there was a considerable wound consistent with a man

falling from a moving train.

It was a terrible thing to see, so the head was knocked right in and the bone

crushed. And yet, there was no great external injury.

Everyone would expect some blood.

Now, the line runs northeast.

Yes, the track divides here, sir. And there's a branch line goes south under

river to rather high the new cross.

I suppose there are no great number of points in the system such as this.

There are very few, sir.

Points.

And a girl.

Oh, by Jove.

If it were only so.

What is it?

Do you have a clue?

No, it's an idea, Bradstreet.

An indication.

But the case certainly grows in interest.

June.

Perfect. And yet, why not?

Cut!

It is material to hear what you mean. That is, go.

I was dull indeed, not to fear the possibilities. Now confess it dark to

And to me also.

But I now have hold of an idea which may lead us far.

Now, I think Sir James, the guardian of the plan, pays our first attention.

Plumpton Hall!

Well, Holmes?

Your idea.

Oh, yes.

The man West was killed not by falling or being thrown from a moving train.

He met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof of the carriage.

On the roof?

Well, consider the facts.

Is it a coincidence that the body was found in the very place where the train

breaks and sways as it comes round on the point?

The sudden slowing would affect no object inside the carriage, but an

such as the body on the roof.

And there's a question of the man.

Of course, there was no bleeding on the line if the body bled elsewhere.

Each fact is suggestive in itself. Together they have a cumulative force.

Yes, and the ticket, too.

That would explain the absence of the ticket. Watson, it all fits together.

Come in, please, gentlemen.

We were expecting you.

Ah,

gentlemen.

Thank you, Baines.

Thank you, sir.

If you'll follow me, the body is upstairs.

Wait! One moment.

Are you not the undertakers?

Excuse me, Sir James. I am Dr.

Watson, and this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Good heavens.

We are helping the authorities in the case of the moving papers.

My brother, Sir James Walter, died this morning.

I am Colonel Valentine Walter.

Please, gentlemen, come here.

We are very sorry, sir. Thank you.

I'm afraid it has been a great shock.

But... Now... How did your brother die?

It was this horrible scandal.

My brother is... My brother was a man of very sensitive honour.

He was fiercely proud of the efficiency of his department.

The theft of the plans was a crushing blow.

It broke his heart.

We were...

hoping Sir James might have been able to help. I assure you, it was as much a

mystery to him as it is to all of us.

Naturally, he had no doubt that West was guilty, but why he should have done

such a thing?

Now, of course, we shall never know.

So, you've been throwing a light on the matter.

Me?

I'm afraid I know nothing, save what I've read or heard.

And you never met Cadogan West?

No. No, I have not been back in the country long.

My brother's work was of a highly confidential nature. He did not discuss

with me.

Gentlemen, I do not wish to seem discourteous, but we are much disturbed

present.

I must ask you to hasten this interview to an end.

Of course.

Mr. Salyder caused you so much trouble.

That's an unexpected development.

Heart failure?

Suicide.

Not Miss Westbury.

Is that the dead man's fiancée? Yes.

Cannot explain it, Mr. Holmes.

I haven't closed my eyes since the tragedy.

Thinking and thinking and thinking what the true meaning of it can be.

Do sit down.

Arthur was the most single -minded, chivalrous, patriotic man on earth.

He would have cut off his right hand rather than sell a state secret confided

his keeping.

It's absurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him.

The facts, Miss Winslow. Was he in want of money?

No.

His needs were very simple, and his salary was sufficient.

He'd saved a few hundred, and we were to marry at the new year.

Was there any sign of mental excitement?

Come, Miss Westbury. Be absolutely frank with us.

I had a feeling there was something on his mind.

For long?

Only the last week or two.

Once I asked him about it.

It is too serious to speak about even to you, he said.

Go on, Miss Westbury.

I mean, even if it seems to tell against him,

we cannot say what it may lead us.

He spoke one evening about a secret.

I think he said that no doubt foreign spies would pay a great deal to have it.

He said that we were slack about such matters and that it would be easy for a

traitor to get hold of the plans.

Oh, Pindar.

If you could only, only save his honour.

It was so much to him.

Now, please tell us about that last evening.

It was Monday night.

And we were to go to the theatre.

Violet, I'm afraid I've got to leave you.

Leave me?

It's very, very important.

I'm sorry.

You'd better go home.

Go home immediately, please.

It was just here, Mr. Holmes.

And he disappeared without any explanation?

Yes.

You are sure this is the exact spot?

Yes.

We often used to meet here when we were courting.

You see, that's the building where he used to work.

Ah.

That was the last time I saw him.

Well, Watson, would you be so kind as to take Miss Westbury home in the car?

Oh, it's bad. It's very bad.

Of course, Mr Johnson. The whole place is disorganised.

West dead.

Now the chief dead.

Our papers stolen.

And yet, when I closed this office on Monday evening, we were as efficient as

any in the service.

At what hour was the office closed on Monday?

At five. Did you close it?

I'm always the last man out. Is there no night watchman for the building?

Yes. We had other departments look after as well.

He's an old soldier.

The most trustworthy man.

He didn't say anything that evening.

Thank you.

When you closed the office, where were the plans?

In that safe.

I put them there myself.

If Cadogan West wished to enter the office after hours,

He would need three keys within odds before he could reach these papers. Yes.

Key to the outer door, key to the office, and the key of the safe.

And only you and Sir James Walter had those keys.

Yes, indeed.

Sir James kept all three keys on one ring. They never left him. And, of

your keys never left your possession.

Never. Sir Cadogan West is the culprit. He must have had duplicates.

Oh, he's the culprit, all right.

It's dreadful to think that...

West of all people should have done such a thing.

You're sure of his guilt?

I see no other way.

He was getting married. He wanted the money.

Oh, yes.

He's your man.

Mr. Johnson, if someone desired to tell the plans, surely

it'd be easier to make copies than to take the originals. It would need

considerable technical knowledge.

May I see these?

And, of course, you and West and James Walter had that knowledge.

That may be so, but don't try to drag me into this matter, Mr. Holmes.

The plans were found on West. It is certainly thing, you know, that he

risk taking the originals when he could have safely taken causes.

Perhaps it was a matter of time. Ah, yes, time.

Now, three plans are missing, I understand. They are the vital ones.

Now, come on, hold him those.

Three papers. I mean, could they construct a Bruce Partington submarine?

I told the Admiralty that I thought it was possible, but today I'm not so sure.

These all -important double valves with the automatic self -adjusting slots are

drawn only on this plan, which has been returned.

Which is the kind that close those window shutters exactly as they were on

Monday night.

Window shutters, certainly.

Thank you so much.

Yeah.

I think I'll take a little stroll outside.

Oh, please don't bother yourself. I can find my own way.

Would you please wait?

Holmes? Watson.

Look at this.

The bushes have been broken.

Now look at the windows behind you.

The shutters don't meet in the centre.

As you say.

Don't meet.

Interesting, don't you think?

8 .15 to London Bridge.

Yes, that was it, I'm sure. You definitely recognised him as Cadogan

Oh, yes, definitely.

I knew him well, sir.

He was an old acquaintance.

Hardly a week went by that we didn't pass a time of day together.

It's hard to believe, isn't it?

Yeah, I was saying to the wife only on Sunday night.

No, I'm a liar. It was Saturday.

I said, there's no safer railway than the London Metropolitan.

Did Mr West seem to be following anyone?

Not that I saw Mr Holmes.

But then I don't see anything.

There was really thick fog that night.

But one thing I will say, Mr West wasn't his usual self.

He was nervous, excited.

I tell you, if this gentleman, his hand was shaking so bad, I knew that dog

wouldn't pick up his change.

Well, I mean, that speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Ah, thanks.

Come on.

Mr. Holmes?

Yes?

Whilst you were away, a message came for you from the government.

From the government? An official gentleman in a special carriage.

He said, I wasn't to let this out of my sight until I placed it into your own

hands.

Mrs. Hutton, you are a most faithful one to us. Oh.

That's my brother Mycroft.

He writes like a drunken crab.

You'd better read it.

Doctors are more used to hieroglyphics than normal human beings.

Oh, I can't read the first bit. Something about small fry and very big

Ah, here we are. Only men worth considering.

Adolf Meyer.

13th grade, George.

Doubt it's him.

Not his style.

Oh, Mickey Hudson!

Louis... Louis... I don't know. Louis... Louis LaLotte, yes.

Hamden Mountains, Notting Hill.

And that's another, though, friend. But you're hideous in the way. I'm sorry,

sir, but I only have one pair of... Please, disappear.

Right, well.

Ah, Hugo Oberstein, 13 Caulfield Gardens, Kensington.

Known to be in town on Monday, now reported to have left.

The cabinet awaits your final report with the utmost anxiety.

The whole force of the state is at your back if you should need it.

Mycroft. All the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men cannot avail of him with

matter.

Courtfield Garden.

Well, well.

It's going to be fat.

Things are turning a little in our direction.

I really believe that we're going to bring it on, after all.

I'm going out.

When will you be back? I've no idea, but I promise I will do nothing serious

without my trusted comrade and biographer at my elbow.

He wants me to meet him in a restaurant off the Gloucester Road.

I just hope you'll be careful, that's all.

You're not as young as you were.

You know what Mr Holmes is like once he gets the bit between his teeth.

I do indeed.

Good night, Mrs Hudson.

Good night, Doctor.

Thank you. Thank you.

Have you had something to eat?

Yes, indeed.

Then have a coffee and a curacao.

Signor Goldini!

Another coffee and a curacao, please, my friend.

Try one of the proprietary cigars.

They're nothing like as poisonous as one would expect.

Oh, thank you.

Now.

Now. For our plan of action.

It is evident to you what the body was placed on the roof of the carriage. Or

dropped from a bridge.

No, that's impossible.

Placed.

The carriage roofs are rounded with no rails.

How could he be placed there?

In some areas, the London underground runs clear of tunnels and past the backs

of houses.

When I found that a leading international agent lived in just such a

was so pleased that you were a little astonished at my sudden frivolity.

Hugo Oberstein, 13 Caulfield Gardens, of course.

Exactly.

I was able to satisfy myself.

but not only do the backstair windows open onto the line, but that owing to

intersection of the Richmond and Wimbledon lines with the Circle line

Gloucester Road station, the trains are frequently held motionless at that very

spot.

That's splendid. You got it.

The house appears to be unoccupied. I wish I'd obviously haven't gone abroad

dispose of his booty.

He has no reason to fear a warrant, and a spot of amateur burglary would never

occur to him, but that is precisely... that we are about to do.

Why? For what purpose?

We cannot tell what correspondence may be there.

No, no.

No, I don't like it, Holmes.

You can keep watch.

I'll do the criminal part.

This is no time to think of trifles.

Think of the Admiralty. Think of the Cabinet.

Think of the exalted person herself who waits on you.

We're bound to go.

I knew you wouldn't shrink at the last.

Serious proposition.

Locked and voted.

We may do better in the area.

Ah, this is better.

Jimmy.

Don't touch them.

Look where they rest at the bottom.

Flut.

Flut again.

What do you think of that?

Mark, you've never risen to a greater height. No, I cannot agree with you.

The moment I conceived the idea of the body on the roof of the train, the rest

was ineligible.

A major difficulty I've had before.

Oh, red blotting paper coming for now.

Everything's been burning.

Old newspapers.

Cold. Yeah.

Why would a man so obviously untidy in his habit take the trouble to burn old

newspapers? Probably because it's not hard.

There's no wood. Cold.

Let me see.

Well done.

Well done. Indeed, I think we have our man.

Would you look in the agony column of the two remaining copies of the Daily

Telegraph, and I think you will find a message from someone calling himself

Hero.

Ah, here we are.

Hope to hear sooner. Terms agreed, but must have full report. Matter present.

Signed, Hero. Come along.

Why, no. Monday night after nine, two taps.

Only ourselves.

Payment in hard cash when goods delivered.

Every paper has a message from someone calling himself Pierrot.

It's an odd name for a villain like Oberstein to use.

If only we could get the man at the other end.

Watson, quickly.

We haven't a moment to lose.

Where are we going?

The offices of the Daily Telegraph.

We've just time.

Splendid, Sherlock.

Splendid. I always said you'd make the best cat burglar in London, if you put

your mind to it.

Can't do these things in the force, Mr Holmes. No wonder you sometimes get

results that are beyond us.

Some of these days you'll go too far.

You and your friend will find yourselves in trouble.

England home and beauty, eh, Watson?

Martyrs on the altar of our country?

The agony column of the Daily Telegraph. What use would it make of those?

Have you seen the advertisement from Piero today?

Tonight, same hour, same place, two taps, most vitally important, your own

safety at stake.

Find Piero.

Find George. If he answers that, we've got him.

Don't sweat on the line.

It's here.

You can write me down as an ass, Watson. This is not the bird I was expecting.

Who is he?

Colonel Valentine Walter, Sir James's younger brother.

I'll begin to see how the cards fall now.

What is this?

I came here to visit Mr. Obersher.

I know you, surely?

Sherlock Holmes.

Everything is known, Colonel.

How an English gentleman could behave in such a manner is beyond contrary.

We know of your relations and correspondence with Oberstein.

You stole her brother's keys and had them duplicated.

We know you went to Admiralty Office on Monday night and was seen by Cadogan

West.

Leaving all his private concerns, being the good citizen that he was, he

followed you closely in the fog halfway across London until you reached this

very house.

It was then, Colonel Walter, that to treason you added the terrible crime of

murder.

I did not before God. I swear I did not. Then tell us how Arthur Cadogan West

met his end before you placed his body on the roof of the railway carriage.

He followed me, as you describe.

But until I was at the very door of this house, I did not know it.

What are you going to do with those papers?

He hit

his

head on the marble floor.

He was dead in a matter of minutes.

It was Oberstein's idea to stuff the less important plans in West's pocket

put him on the roof of the train.

What made you turn traitor, Colonel?

A stock exchange debt had to be paid.

I needed the money badly. Oberstein offered me 5 ,000.

It was to save myself from ruin and disgrace.

My brother used to discuss matters with me which he probably should not have

done. The submarine, for instance.

How could he ever guess his own brother would betray him?

That was the worst of all.

He suspected me. I know he did. I read it in his eyes.

And after this West business...

He never held up his head again.

Can you not make reparation?

Could ease your conscience and possibly your punishment.

What reparation can I make? Where is Oberstein with the papers? I do not

He said that letters to the Hotel du Louvre in Paris would reach him.

Ah.

Well, then it is possible for you to help us.

Come and sit down and write my dictation.

Dear sir, in regard to our transaction, you have now observed that one

essential detail is missing, but I have a tracing that will make it complete.

Is that true, Sherlock?

Quite true.

What essential detail is missing?

The double valves.

With automatic silver -justing slots.

Good heavens, how on earth did you know that?

I've become quite a plumbing expert, brother.

Now, Colonel... What would be your terms?

I must ask you for a further 500 pounds.

English notes, please.

I shall expect to meet you... No, we can hardly say here.

I wish I would suspect a trap.

The foyer of the Charing Cross Hotel.

Its proximity to the railway station renders it extremely popular amongst the

international spy fraternity. Did you get that, Colonel?

Noon, Saturday next.

I shall be very much surprised if I do not fetch our man.

That's amen.

But our traitor is flown.

Well, I'll damn the cheek of the fellow.

Good -bye, gentlemen.

I'm keeping him on a long lead.

Now, there's an awe in the month that the Diogenes Club has

the most excellent oysters.

I should like both you gentlemen to be my guests.

Have a long, Sherlock.