All language subtitles for Sherlock Holmes S01E05 The Crooked Man

... You've been with somebody.

You had to have

been with someone.

--after all this time.

You ruined my life--

Mrs. Barclay,

- your tea.

- After all these years.

How could you do

such a thing?

Your tea, madam.

Oh, I hate you,

I hate you, I hate you.

- No, damn you.

- David...

Your tea, madam.

You betrayed him.

Mrs. Fenning,

Mr. Bates.

What's happened?

What is it child?

It's madam

and the colonel.

Something awful is going on,

I can't open the door.

Here, let me try.

Ah!

Stop him, both of you.

Mrs. Barclay...

Mrs. Barclay,

open the door!

Mrs. Barclay,

open the door!

The door is locked

on the inside as well

and there's no key.

I'm going out for a

doctor and the police.

...Mallows, first class.

Quite a few of them

along the Orontes

when I sailed home

wounded.

Had a good record

out in India,

did wonders during

the mutiny.

I'm sure you won't

regret taking the case.

Ah, sentry.

Left, left, left, right, left...

Dr. John Watson,

formerly medical officer attached

to the Royal Berkshires,

now in civilian practice.

Murphy, second in command,

temporarily in charge of

The Royal Mallows

following the tragedy

of our colonel's death,

and this will be Mr. Holmes,

please...

It's good of you to

come so swiftly.

Not at all.

I've explained to Holmes

how concerned you must be

about the possibility

of a scandal.

Thank you.

The honor of the

regiment is in my care.

And yet, the newspaper's

report suggests

that a scandal is inevitable.

Surely not.

I've done my utmost to make

sure that reporters were kept

as far away as possible.

Exactly and that is what

has made them suspicious.

They scent a mystery.

That much is clear

from the little they have

been able to say.

Oh, surely, it would be

wrong to repeat...

To draw attention to...

Quite.

You see how much we need

your help, Mr. Holmes.

What do you say, Holmes?

What can I say?

Major Murphy, you

have told me nothing.

I have come down here after

persuasion from my friend,

to Aldershot,

who has more interest in

military matters than I.

Now that I am here,

please tell me the facts!

The commanding officer

of this regiment,

Colonel James Barclay,

was found dead in his villa

at about 10:00

the night before last.

The body was found by

Private Bates, his batman,

lying in the morning room.

There was a rugged cut

two inches long in the

back of his head

which had evidently

been caused by

a violent blow from

a blunt instrument

and upon the floor

by the body

was a singular

hand-carved wooden club.

Also stretched out on the sofa,

lying in the dead faint

was Nancy Ba...

Mrs. Barclay.

Please continue,

Major Murphy.

The servants had been

alerted to the tragedy

by the sounds of a quarrel

between the colonel

and Mrs. Barclay.

They tried to enter the morning

room but found it locked.

Bates had to go round

by the garden

and get him through

the French windows.

And now you suspect

Mrs. Barclay?

Yes, but she is quite incapable

of such a dreadful act.

I have been the late

colonel's second in command

for a number of years.

I have come to know

Nancy Barclay well.

Of course.

Tell me about Colonel Barclay,

was he highly regarded

by the men under

his command?

Considering his background,

remarkably so.

His background, why?

Was he ever disgraced?

No, but it's not generally

known outside

that Jim Barclay

began his career

as a private soldier

in The Mallows.

Did he indeed?

From a private soldier to

commanding officer

in the same regiment,

that's a rare achievement.

It was his gallantry

in the Indian mutiny

that got him his commission

and then quite rapid

promotion over the years,

more rapid than

mine for instance.

Impressive.

And I suppose the unfortunate

Mrs. Barclay is in custody?

No.

Not exactly, no.

She's in the hospital

being looked after

with a police constable

standing by.

Nancy Barclay is a

handsome woman now,

but you should have

seen her as a young girl

in India 30 years ago.

She was a daughter

of the regiment.

Her father was the

regimental sergeant major,

RSM Devoy

and therefore quite a formidable

father-in-law for any soldier.

I remember that all the

men in my company

thought her quite the

prettiest girl in the garrison.

As a junior officer,

I had little to do with her,

but I was aware that she

was the most charming,

most vivacious,

and spirited girl.

It was quite understandable

that Barclay was not the

only man in the regiment

who south her hand.

But in the end,

he was the one she chose.

They were married at Bharti,

not far from Cawnpore,

a few months after the

besieged garrison there

was relieved by

General Neil's column

in the summer of 1858.

Shortly after the marriage,

Sergeant Barclay got his

commission as expected.

It must have been difficult

for the Barclays at first.

NCO promoted from

the ranks,

married to a regimental

sergeant major's daughter.

Yes.

I believe there was some

little social friction,

but Nancy carried it off

with dignity and charm,

and they gained

acceptance in no time.

Barclay's career flourished

and the regiment returned from

India some five years ago.

Barclay was then appointed

to commanding officer.

And the marriage continued

to be a happy one?

It appeared to be so.

Appeared?

Most people believe the

marriage to have been

a uniformly happy one.

And what do you believe,

Major Murphy?

My position as second

in command

often took me to the

Barclay's house,

I saw a different side

to the marriage.

The truth is more

important than loyalty

to your late commander.

One night, I had been

dining at the Barclays

and it wasn't until

I reached the end of the drive

that I realized I had left my

cigar case in the dining room.

I went back, the front

door was still open,

Jane, the made,

was in the hall...

I'm glad you're still here,

I left my cigar case

on the table.

I think the colonel and Mrs. Barclay

have gone to bed, sir.

Oh, for goodness sake,

James.

Confess then,

who is it, who?

Let go of me.

You are hurting me.

Tell me you love me then,

me and nobody else.

Do you hear me?

Oh, would I have

married you if I didn't?

I don't know,

sometimes I wonder!

And this expression

of jealousy occurred

within seconds of you,

Major Murphy,

leaving the Barclay's house.

Tell me about the colonel,

was he a violent man

in any way?

On occasion.

He could be most vindictive

towards young subalterns,

but he had clawed

his way to the top,

you need to be

ruthless to do that.

But surely he didn't still feel

out of place as an officer?

No, I don't think so,

but he was subject to a

peculiar form of depression.

The queen.

The queen.

Sometimes, when we're

discussing old campaigns,

Crimea, the mutiny,

Afghan war,

the smile would often be

struck from his mouth

as if by some invisible hand.

Yes, long service in India

can have that effect.

I saw that when

I was in the Berkshires.

You mentioned a carved

wooden club found by the body,

one of the colonel's

Indian souvenirs?

I believe the servants deny ever

having seen this club before.

Certainly, I've never seen it

on any of my visits.

It was quite long.

And the police, I suppose,

have retained it for examination.

Yes, they believe it to

be the murder weapon.

Do they indeed?

You know, I think we should begin

by visiting the Barclay's house,

unless of course it is possible

to interview Mrs. Barclay.

I'm afraid she's

still unconscious.

I thought as much.

David...David...

What a beautiful morning.

Holmes, suppose

Mrs. Barclay had a lover

and the colonel had found out.

Major Murphy seems to have

been rather close to her.

You know, mild adultery

has always been

commonplace among officers

and their wives serving

in hot climates.

Thank you, Watson, for educating

me in military morality.

If there had been anything between

Major Murphy and Mrs. Barclay,

would he have related the incident

of his forgotten cigar case?

It was about half past 7:00 sir,

and I was waiting at table.

Once a month, Mrs. Barclay spent

the evening doing charity work

in Aldershot.

Where are you off

to in such a hurry?

Well, the distribution of

old clothing starts at 8:00,

and I promised Anne Morrison

I'd be at the mission hall

on time.

Well, if you want to catch

some filthy disease

from a lot of flea-ridden

down and outs,

I suppose that's your affair.

I believe in putting

back into life

as much as one

gets out of it.

We've been fortunate

with our lot.

Others haven't been

so lucky.

Don't be late back.

Of course not.

Mrs. Barclay must have returned

about quarter past 9:00, sir.

I was in the kitchen helping

the cook with the dishes.

There was thunder

in the distance

and I was just saying

to Mrs. Fenning

that there was a

storm brewing

when the morning room

bell rang.

I came up here to find that

Mrs. Barclay had returned.

She was walking up

and down this room, sir,

very pale, upset.

She looked awful, sir.

You rang, madam?

Yes Jane, bring me

some tea will you.

Of course, madam.

Jane, is that you?

Yes, sir?

Did I hear Mrs. Barclay

come in?

Yes, sir, she's in

the morning room.

The morning room?

Yes, sir, I'm just about

to take her a pot of tea.

Tea?

What does she want

tea for at this hour?

And that presumably

was the last time

that anyone saw

Colonel Barclay alive?

Yes, sir.

Can you think of any

reason why

your mistress came into

this morning room

at that time of night

when the fire was unlit?

No, sir.

Did she often make a point of

purposely avoiding the colonel?

Had you ever heard

them arguing before?

Not to my knowledge, sir.

Hmm.

When you returned from the

kitchen with Mrs. Barclay's tea,

you found the door locked,

and you heard voices raised,

now what exactly

did you hear?

They were arguing, sir.

Mrs. Barclay called

the colonel a coward.

She said, "You have ruined

my life all these years."

Mrs. Barclay shouted

the name David.

She said it twice.

David?

Could you swear to that?

It was perfectly clear, sir.

But the colonel's

name was James.

Have you ever heard Mrs. Barclay

refer to anyone called David?

No, sir, I don't think she or

the colonel knew anyone

by the name of David.

And Major Murphy's

Christian name is Patrick.

Had they had any visitors

recently by the name of David?

I don't think so, sir.

The club that was found

by Colonel Barclay's body,

had you seen it before?

No, sir, the colonel had

several trophies from India,

but nothing like that club.

Are you sure of that,

Miss Stewart?

Yes, sir.

I don't know where

it came from.

Thank you, that is all.

Oh no, there's

just one last thing,

Major Murphy once left

his cigar case here,

did you manage to find it?

Yes, sir.

The colonel was

lying down here, sir.

With his head by the fender?

Yes, sir.

You can see the mark

of the blood still.

But the most frightening

thing of all, sir,

was his face.

His face?

When I rolled him over.

I almost fainted away

at the look upon it.

It was all contorted,

screwed up,

with the most horrible

look of fear and terror.

As if he'd foreseen

his own death?

Quite possible, sir.

Thank you, Bates.

What apparition,

what monster was it

that could have frightened

the colonel so?

Not Nancy Barclay for sure.

This door was locked shut, sir,

and what's more,

the key was missing.

Missing?

Yes.

In the end, we had to send

for a locksmith to open it.

You had made a thorough

search for the key?

We searched high and low.

Mrs. Barclay hadn't got it,

and it wasn't in the

colonel's pocket, sir.

Thank you, Mrs. Fenning.

Watson, if the key

was not in the door

and neither Mrs. Barclay

nor the colonel had it, then...

Then there must have been

a third person.

Exactly,

who either entered or left

through those windows.

These are Bates' footprints

and these are the footprints

of someone else.

Someone has recently

crossed this lawn.

The marks are just visible.

He entered and left through

those windows, Watson.

We're on the right scent.

- Watson, look at this.

- What is it?

Our intruder had a somewhat

unusual companion.

It's a dog, isn't it,

somebody's dog?

Whoever heard of a dog

running up a curtain.

What about a cat then?

These paw marks are

not those of a cat,

nor of a monkey,

nor of any creature that

we are familiar with.

I would think from

hind foot to forefoot,

at least 15 inches.

Add to that the length

of neck and head.

You have a creature of

no less than two feet,

more if there's a tail, and

the length of its stride is odd.

It indicates a creature with

a long back and short legs.

Something like a

stoat or a weasel?

We also know that

it is carnivorous.

How can you tell that?

Well, you see what made

it run up the curtain.

A canary.

Exactly.

Then what was this beast?

No, I can't.

I cannot betray a friend.

Please don't ask me to.

Uh, Miss Morrison,

when Mrs. Barclay left her house

to come here two nights ago,

she was happy

and contented.

When she returned

two hours later,

she was a changed woman.

Now, the police

suspect her of murder.

You owe it to your friend

to clear her name.

You must tell me what happened

last night that so changed her.

Very well.

I shall break my

promise of silence

if what I can say

can really help her.

So there was something.

It was most bizarre.

I should explain that we

come across all sorts

and conditions of men here.

Yet the other night,

I saw the most extraordinary

creature I have ever seen.

Not only had he

a crooked back,

but he was lame and walked

with his knees bent.

His face was darkly tanned,

crinkled and puckered like

a withered apple.

I thought to myself that truly,

there are some of us

in this earth

who are burdened with more than

their fair share of misfortune.

This vision was made

more unusual

by the oriental garb

the man was wearing.

I pointed this person

out to Nancy

as someone especially

deserving of help.

Nancy had indeed been in

good spirits that evening,

and I saw her go

towards the man

and asked him if he

needed assistance.

It was now that a change

came over Nancy.

She had begun a

conversation with the man,

when suddenly, all the

color drained from her face.

She looked as though

she had seen a ghost.

The man, too, seemed to

be strangely affected

by the sight of her,

and I saw him

gesticulating wildly.

Nancy and the man went to

a quiet corner of the hall

and they talked together

for a few moments or so

before I heard an angry

shout from the man

and saw him storm out waving

his fists in the air.

Nancy, what is it?

Are you all right?

Who was that poor creature?

It's an old acquaintance of

mine fallen on hard times.

Promise me Annie,

you wouldn't say anything

about this to anyone,

promise me!

Of course I promise.

If you so wish.

Thank you.

And the identity of this man?

I thought you might

ask me that.

Well, after this

terrible happening,

Nancy left.

I naturally made a few inquiries

among some of the regulars.

Such an unusual

looking creature

has of course

attracted attention.

It appears he is an old soldier

recently back from India

and no one knows anything

else about his background,

except that he makes a living

by entertaining the troops,

conjuring tricks,

that kind of thing.

And did you tell

the police about him?

Of course not.

Thank you.

A promise is a promise.

Yes, of course.

Thank you, Miss Morrison.

♪ My darling Clementine

♪ You are lost and gone forever

♪ Dreadful sorry Clementine

♪ Oh my darling, oh my darling

♪ Oh my darling Clementine

♪ You are lost and gone forever

♪ Dreadful sorry Clementine

Yay!

Four. Four.

Yeah, four.

One.

Two.

Three.

Ah.

Ooh.

Ooh.

Yeah.

There is our intruder's

four-footed companion.

It's a mongoose.

I think we found our man.

♪ Through the air with

the greatest of ease

♪ A daring young man

on the flying trapeze

Mr. Henry Wood,

I believe, state of India,

may I have a word?

What about?

A little matter of

Colonel James Barclay's death.

♪ He'd fly through the air

with the greatest of ease

♪ A daring young man

on the flying trapeze

♪ His actions are graceful,

all girls does he please

♪ This darling young man

on the flying trapeze

She's innocent.

You can take my word for it.

Then you are guilty!

No!

I am not guilty.

Then who struck

the colonel down?

It was a just providence

that killed him.

His own guilty conscience.

I think you better explain.

My God, if I had

smashed his head in,

as it was in my heart to do,

he would have got only

what he deserved from me!

No, I never laid a

hand on him.

I was spared the trouble.

I'll tell you my story.

There is no cause for

me to be ashamed of it.

You see me now with

my back like a camel,

my ribs all awry,

but there was a time when

Corporal Henry Wood

was the smartest man

in The Royal Mallows.

You were in the same

regiment as Colonel Barclay?

Oh, yes.

But he was Sergeant

Jim Barclay then.

We were in the same

company

and we had something

else in common.

We were both in love

with the same woman,

Nancy Devoy.

Yes, the daughter of the

Regimental Sergeant Major.

Yeah.

There were two men

who loved her,

but only one whom

she loved.

You'll laugh when you look

at this poor thing

huddled in front of the fire

and hear me say that

it was for my good looks

that Nancy loved me.

I was the one she

loved all along.

But although

I had her heart,

her father didn't

approve of me.

I was a harum-scarum,

reckless sort of lad,

but I was always honest

and plain-dealing as well.

No, Nancy's father

wanted her to marry Barclay.

He was careful to

keep out of trouble,

always did the right thing.

Not like me,

who took Nancy to places

her father didn't like.

Besides, Barclay

had had an education,

he was already marked

for the sword belt.

RSM Devoy naturally thought

Barclay the better match

for his daughter,

but she remained true to me

and we would have married

had it not been for the mutiny.

Why did Nancy Devoy not

marry the man she loved?

It was monsoon time in 1857,

when the Sepoys rose up

against the British.

The regiment was

shot up in Bharti.

There were 10,000

rebels around us,

pinning us down like

terriers in a rat cage.

We ran short of food

and ammunition

and we had to communicate

with General Neil's column

that was moving

up-country.

It was our only

chance to get help.

Our company commander

had asked for a volunteer,

a fit, strong soldier to slip out

of the garrison at dead of night

and make contact with the relief

column out on the plain beyond.

Like a fool,

I volunteered.

It was a dangerous,

all right.

There were

thousand lives in peril.

But I was thinking

of only one of them.

Nancy Devoy,

the woman I loved

and the finest girl that ever

had the breath of life

between her lips.

Saying goodbye to her

was the hardest thing.

As we exchanged mementos,

I little thought that I was saying

goodbye to her for 30 years.

It was my rival

for Nancy's hand

who saw me off on

my journey

through the enemy

lines that night,

Sergeant Barclay.

He said he knew the lie of

the land around the garrison

better than any other.

While I volunteered

to make the journey,

Jim Barclay volunteered

to advise me

on the best route to take.

So, just off at 10:00,

while my comrades gave

me covering fire,

I set off.

Barclay had told me

to follow a stream

which would lead to a gully.

This, he said, was the

safest way downhill.

His directions were perfect,

and soon I was wading

through icy water

that only the day before had

been snow in the Himalayas.

I could see the lights and

fires in the rebels' camp,

but I kept well down out of

sight of their sentry posts.

I came to the gully

and thought I was safe.

But then it happened,

I was attacked,

something hard cracked

down on my head,

and everything spun around.

When I came to,

I was trussed up like a chicken

and hanging from a tree.

My arms felt as though

they were being

wrenched out of their sockets.

I didn't mind the pain,

but I was sick at heart for

having failed in my mission.

What would be the fate of those

I had been trying to save?

But the biggest blow came

when I listened to what I could

understand of the rebels' talk.

I heard enough to realize

that I had been betrayed.

The very man who had

shown me the way to take

betrayed me to the enemy.

Barclay had gotten rid of me to

make sure he could have my girl.

Now, you know what

James Barclay was capable of.

Well, it turned out that

General Neil's column

was already on its

way to relieve Bharti.

The rebels retreated.

They dragged me

away with them.

I was tortured,

tried to escape,

was tortured again.

It was to be many a long year

before I saw another white face.

My captors fled north

further into the hills

and used me as a

sort of slave.

I was treated worse

than a dog

and they damn near broke

every bone in my body.

Sometimes I'd wish

they'd just kill me,

but my thoughts of

hatred and loathing

for the man who destroyed

my life kept me going.

I dreamed of revenge

on Barclay.

One day,

some Afghan tribesmen

murdered the rebels

who held me prisoner.

They left me for dead too,

but by a miracle,

I still lived.

So, I had my revenge

on my torturers,

but Barclay was

beyond my grasp.

And what of Nancy?

I had no means of knowing

whether she was alive or dead.

I wandered back

to the Punjab

and lived among the natives,

picking up a living by

the conjuring tricks

I'd learned from the

street magicians.

What use was it for me,

a wretched cripple,

to get passage back

by ship to England

and make myself known to

my comrades in the regiment?

Even the desire to have my

revenge on Jim Barclay

didn't make me go.

Why?

I'll tell you straight.

I preferred my Nancy and my

old pals in The Royal Mallows

to go on believing that

Harry Wood died a hero's death

with a straight back than see

him crawling about the world,

more like a chimpanzee

than a human being.

But you did return

and to Aldershot where your

old regiment was stationed,

why?

I just wanted to see the old

country once more before I died.

I saved what I could,

and eventually,

I got a ship.

I didn't know the regiment was

stationed here in Aldershot.

I just wanted to be where

there were soldiers.

I could earn my keep

going around the canteens

doing my tricks to entertain them.

And I no longer

wanted to kill Barclay.

The fires of revenge had

burned low over the years.

Until, I saw her.

I thought I'd better

get some English togs.

I look comical enough

without wearing these foreign

clothes all the time.

At first, I was more interested

in finding a thick overcoat

than looking at the charity ladies

who were doling them out.

Then, one of them came over.

I recognized her at once.

She had hardly changed.

Still beautiful.

What's more amazing is she...

She seemed to know me.

Good evening,

can I help you?

Have you been able to

find anything that...

I'm sorry,

I thought I...

Nancy,

it is me, Harry.

Don't be afraid.

I thought you had been

dead these 30 years.

I have been.

A soul have never

seen, my creature.

We spoke for a moment

or two together.

I told her some of my story.

I should have spared

telling her

that her husband

was a traitor,

but it all came

pouring out of me,

30 years of hate.

She was so affected

by what I said,

I couldn't stand it.

I went outside.

Then I saw her come

out of the mission,

and I followed her home.

I saw her go into the house.

A light came on.

I saw her sitting in a chair.

And then he came

into the room.

James,

I have to talk to you.

What are you

locking that door for?

Don't be back late, I said.

- Don't be back late, and I--

- I have to talk to you.

- You have been with someone.

- No.

You have to have

been with someone.

- Look, I'm tell you, you

don't know all this time...

- Who is it?

You've ruined my life.

All these years,

all these years.

- Oh, how could you

do such a thing?

- Mrs. Barclay, your tea.

It was evil.

No, I hate you,

I hate you, I hate you.

No, damn--

To see him lay a hand on her

made me mad with anger.

My feelings overcame me.

- Damn you--

- David.

Your tea, madam.

David, you betrayed him.

It's not true.

But he's alive.

I tell you, I've seen him.

- You're lying.

- No.

You're mad.

Ah!

He looked as I have

never seen a man look.

I read death on his face

as plain as anything.

The bare sight of me

was like a bullet through

his guilty heart.

Mrs. Barclay?

Mrs. Barclay,

you open the door.

He smashed onto the fender.

He was dead before he fell.

Ah! Ah! Ah!

Mrs. Barclay?

Mrs. Barclay,

open the door!

I took the key of the

door from Nancy's hand,

intending to open it

and get help.

And I thought it's better

to get away

for things might look

black against me.

In haste, I thrust the key

into my pocket,

whilst I was chasing Teddy

who escaped from his box

and ran up the curtain.

Teddy?

So the colonel died

before he struck his

head on the fender.

An apoplectic fit

brought on by shock.

Mr. Wood,

provided the coroner reaches

the same conclusion,

Mrs. Barclay...

Nancy.

Will be free.

I trust you would have

no objection

to repeating your story

to the police,

should the need arise?

Mr. Holmes,

how is Nancy?

She's in the hospital.

I understand, in time,

she should make a

complete recovery.

Thank God.

Oh, Annie,

how lovely to see you.

Are you better?

Yes, I'm much better.

Holmes, there's just one

thing I don't understand.

If the colonel's name

was James

and Wood was called

either Henry or Harry,

then who deduce

was David?

Ah, my dear Watson,

that name David

should have told me

the whole story

had I been the ideal

reasoner,

which you are so

fond of depicting,

but alas, my powers of

deduction failed me.

You see, David,

in this case,

was evidently used as

a term of reproach.

Reproach?

Don't you remember how King

David sent Uriah the Hittite

into the forefront of

the battle to die

so that he might steal

his woman, Bathsheba?

I think you'll find the story in the

first or second book of Samuel.

My Old Testament

is a little rusty.

You're quite right,

Holmes.

Second book of Samuel,

Chapter 11,

verses 14 to 17.

You appear to have

looked it up yourself

since we returned home

from Aldershot.

How did you know?

You used this bill for

our meal at Waterloo

as a bookmarker,

did you not?

Excellent, Watson.

Elementary,

my dear Holmes.

Good night, old fellow!