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Mr. Cretites?

...Paul Cretites.

My name is Latimer.

I've come to meet you, Mr. Cretites.

Just come this way, Mr. Cretites.

We have a carriage waiting.

During my long and intimate acquaintance

with Sherlock Holmes,

I'd never heard him refer to his relations,

and hardly ever to his own early life.

Because of this reticence, I sometimes found myself

regarding him as an isolated phenomenon

as deficient in human sympathy

as he was pre-eminent in intelligence.

I'd come to believe that he was an orphan

with no relatives living.

But one day, to my very great surprise,

he began to talk to me about his family.

My singular gift of observation introduction

may have come from my grandmother,

who was a sister of Bernais, the French artist.

The art in the blood

is liable to take the strangest forms.

For example, my brother, Mycroft.

Your brother?

I didn't know you had a brother?

Oh, yes.

And I can assure you,

he possesses a far greater faculty

of observation and deduction than I do.

Holmes, I know that you are a modest man

Ha-ha.

My dear Watson,

I cannot agree with those

that rank modesty among the virtues.

To the legation,

everything should be seen exactly as it is.

And to underestimate one's self

is as much a departure from the truth

as to exaggerate one's own ability.

What I have just told you about my brother

is the exact and literal truth.

Well, naturally, I don't doubt your word.

But if there is another man in England

with such singular powers,

how is it that neither the police nor the public

have ever heard of him, let alone myself?

He's very well known in his own circles.

Where then?

The Diagones Club.

It is the oddest club in London,

and my brother one of the oddest men.

I suppose you wish to meet him?

Well, of course I do,

even if it's just to prove that he exists.

Then you shall, this afternoon.

He has come across the most singular problem,

which he thinks might interest me.

But why does Mycroft not use

his great powers for detective work?

If the art of the detective began

and ended in reasoning from an arm chair,

my brother would be the greatest criminal agent

that ever lived.

What is to me a means of livelihood

is to him the merest hobby of a dilettante.

But he has no ambition and no energy.

What is his profession, then?

He has an extraordinary faculty for figures.

He audits the books

for some of the government departments.

But what are the qualifications

for the Diogenes Club?

Shyness and misanthropy ...

my brother is one of the founding members.

It contains the most unsociable

and clubful men in time who speak not a word

and shun even the merest glance.

Now, let us enter.

Yes, but ...

Not a word.

Holmes, have you ...

We can talk in here.

Well, thank goodness.

Look at those two men, Sherlock.

What do you make of them?

The brilliant marker of the other.

Precisely.

What do you make of the other?

An old soldier, I perceive.

And very recently distraught?

Served in India, I see.

And a non-commissioned officer.

Relativity, I fancy.

And a widower?

With a child.

Children, my dear boy, children.

Ha-ha.

Mycroft Holmes.

Glad to meet you, Dr. Watson.

I hear of Sherlock everywhere

since you became his...

Well, thank you.

For anyone who wishes to study mankind,

this is the spot.

But surely you were taking things

a little too far just now?

It is not hard to say, Watson,

that a man of that bearing,

and especially of authority

and some big skin as a soldier

is more than a private,

and is not long for India.

That is not long since left the service

shown by his still wearing his ammunition boots,

as they're called.

He has not the cavalry stride,

but he wore his hat on one side

as is shown by the lighter skin

on one side of his brow.

His weight is against him being a sapper.

He is in the artillery.

There goes his complete mourning shows

that he has lost someone very dear.

The fact that he's doing his own shopping

looks as though it was his wife.

He's been buying things for children,

as you can see.

There is a wrap, which shows that one of them

is very, very young.

And the fact that he has a picture book under his arm

shows there is another child.

Aha, Mr. Merlas.

Come in, sir.

These are my friends.

This is Dr. Watson,

and this is my younger brother, Sherlock.

You're Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

I've asked Mr. Merlas to step across.

He lodges on the first floor above me,

and I thought you'd be interested in his story.

He's the reason why I asked you to call today.

Mr. Merlas,

he came to me, well...

But I think I shall ask Mr. Merlas to tell

his own very remarkable experiences

in his own fashion.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

For many years,

I have been the chief

Greek interpreter in London.

I do not think that the police believe my story.

On my word, I do not.

Just because they have never heard of it before,

they think that such a thing cannot be.

But I know that I shall never be easy in my mind

until I know what has become of my poor man

with a sticking plastered up on his face.

Sticky...

Mr. Merlas, please sit down.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I prefer to stand.

Watson.

I am all attention.

All this happened only two days ago,

on Monday night.

I am Greek by instruction.

And earn my living as an interpreter.

It often happens that I'm sent for at strange hours

by foreigners who would get into difficulties

or by travelers who would arrive late

and wish my services.

Mr. Merlas?

Yes?

I apologize for this intrusion,

but I need the services

of an interpreter immediately.

My name is Latimer.

Immediately?

I wouldn't insist unless it were urgent,

but a Greek friend of mine has just arrived

in this country on business matter.

Unfortunately, he speaks nothing

but his own tongue.

I likewise so.

Mr. Merlas, please.

My carriage is waiting outside.

How far away?

Only to Kensington.

I'm sorry to have to cut off your view, Mr. Merlas,

but the fact is, I have no intention that you

should see the place to which we are driving.

It might possibly be inconvenient to me

if you were able to find your way back again.

This is very extraordinary conduct, Mr. Latimer.

You must be aware that what you're doing

is quite illegal.

It is somewhat of a liberty, no doubt,

but we'll make it up to you.

For nearly two hours, we drove,

without my having the least idea as to where I was.

Did you not notice any change

of sound under the wheels?

I listened, Mr. Holmes.

Sometimes we seemed to be on a paved causeway,

sometimes on asphalt,

but there was nothing to tell me where I was.

And no other sounds ...

a ship's siren or church bell?

I'm sorry, nothing like that.

At what time

did you finally reach your destination?

Ten minutes to 9:00, exactly.

Is this Mr. Merlas, Harold.

Yes.

Well done, Ha Ha Ha,

well done.

No ill will, Mr. Merlas, I trust,

but we could not get on without you.

If you deal fair with us, you'll not regret it,

but if you try any tricks, God help you.

What do you want of me?

Only to ask a few questions

of a Greek gentleman who's visiting us,

and to let us have the answers.

But, you say no more than you are told,

or it were better you had never been born.

Mr. Merlas, pray continue.

Well then, this man, this evil man,

showed me to a room which appeared to be

very curiously furnished.

But again, the only light was afforded by a single lamp,

half turned down.

The slate, Harold.

Are his hands loose?

Take this.

You will ask the questions, Mr. Merlas,

and he will write the answers.

Ask him, first of all,

whether he's prepared to sign the papers?

"Never."

On no conditions?

He writes, "only if I see her married

in my presence by a Greek priest, whom I know."

Ha Ha.

You know what awaits you, then?

He says, "I care nothing for myself."

And so it went on, again and again

I had to ask him whether he would give in

and sign the document.

Again and again, I had the same indignant reply.

But soon, a thought came to me.

I took to adding on little sentences of my own

to each question, innocent ones at first,

to test whether either of our companions

knew anything of the matter.

And then, as I found that they showed no sign,

I played a more dangerous game.

This obstinacy is doing you no good.

He says, "I care not."

In fact, he had also told me

he was a stranger in London.

He then told me he had been here three weeks,

and was being forcibly starved.

Starved?

Did you manage to find out his name?

Cretites.

He was from Athens.

But that was all I could discover, unfortunately.

Another five minutes,

and I should have wormed out

the whole story under their very noses.

Ask him again, Mr. Merlas.

But at that instant, the door opened,

and a woman stepped into the room.

He says, "never."

Well, ask him again!

Harold, I could not stay away any longer.

Sophia, Sophia, Sophia!

That will do, Mr. Merlas.

As you perceive,

we have taken you into our confidence

over some very private business.

Here are five sovereigns, which will, I hope,

be a sufficient fee.

But remember, if you speak to anyone about this,

one human soul, mind, well,

may God have mercy on your soul.

As before, I was taken in a closed carriage

for almost two hours.

There I was abandoned, as I was later to discover,

near Wentsworth Common.

I did not know where I had been,

nor whom I had spoken with nor anything,

saving what I have told you.

But I know there is foul play going on,

and I want to help that unhappy man ...

before God, I do.

Mycroft.

Mycroft!

Huh?

What steps have you taken so far?

Well, this was in all the daily papers:

"Anyone having information as to the whereabouts

of a Greek gentleman named Paul Cretites,

who cannot speak English, will be rewarded.

As ever a reward will be paid to anyone

having information about a Greek lady,

whose first name is Sophia, "

but no answer as yet.

What about the Greek Legation?

I have tried.

They know nothing.

The head of the Athens police, then!

Sherlock has all the energy in the family.

When you take up a case, by all means,

let me know if you do any good!

Certainly.

Mr. Merlas, sir.

I should be extremely careful,

if I were you, but of course,

through these advertisements,

they'll know that you've betrayed them.

Whoops.

On your way.

It seems to me obvious that this Greek girl has been

carried off by the young Englishman,

Harold Latimer.

Carried off from where?

Athens, perhaps?

No, no, no ... this Harold Latimer

cannot speak a word in Greek.

The girl speaks English fairly well,

inference that she has been in England some little time,

and he has not been in Greece.

Thank you Miss Jackson.

Then, let's presume that the girl

was visiting in England and that this Harold

persuaded her to fly with him.

That is more probable.

Then the brother, that must be the relationship,

comes over from Greece in order to intervene,

they see him,

use violence to force him to sign some documents,

making over the girl's fortune to them.

He's probably the trustee.

This, as we have heard, he refuses to do.

So far.

But these men will not stop now.

Whatever happens, Watson, we must find them.

How can we?

Well, if our conjecture is correct,

and the girl's name is ... or was ... Sophia Cretites,

we should have no difficulty in tracing her.

That must be our main hope.

The brother, of course, is a complete stranger.

Come in, Sherlock.

Come in, sir.

You don't expect such energy from me, do you, Sherlock

... hmm?

Now, How did you get here?

I passed you while you were in the telegraph office.

I had an answer to my advertisement.

It came within a few minutes of your leaving.

And what effect?

It is written with a Jay pen on royal cream paper

by a middle-aged man with a weak constitution.

"Sir, in answer to your advertisement of today's date,

I beg to inform you that I know the young lady

in question very well.

If you should care to call upon me,

I could give you some particulars

as to her painful history.

She's at present at Memerkle's Beckinum.

Yours faithfully, Jay Davenport."

He writes from Lower Brigestone.

Do you not think we should drive there now

and learn these particulars?

My dear Mycroft.

Her brother's life is more important

than the sister's story.

But we should call at Scotland Yard

for Inspector Gregson

and then go straight out to Beckinum,

where we know that a man is being done to death,

Every hour maybe vital.

Better pick up Mr. Merlas on the way?

Why?

Because we may need a Greek interpreter.

Excellent, Watson.

I should say from what we have heard,

that we are dealing with

a particularly dangerous guy.

Mr. Merlas?

Yes.

There's a gentleman downstairs to see you, sir.

What gentleman?

Well, he said he met you today at the Diogenes Club.

Mr. Holmes! Thank you!

Good evening, Mr. Merlas.

Good evening, Mrs.Sterd,

Would you tell Mr. Merlas I need to see him urgently.

Well, Mr. Merlas is not here, sir.

A gentleman just called for him, and he left.

Can you tell me where?

Oh, I don't know, sir.

All I know is,

he drove off with a gentleman in a carriage.

Did the gentleman give a name?

No, sir.

He wasn't a tall, handsome, dark, young man?

Oh, no, sir.

He was a little gentleman, with glasses,

thin in the face, but very pleasant in his ways.

He was laughing all the time he was talking.

Thank you.

Scotland Yard, and hurry!

It cannot be done without a warrant!

We are not disputing that, Inspector.

Even if they are criminals,

it is a private house and the law demands ...

The law demands that we act quickly.

Can you not find a Magistrate

to sign this warrant for us?

A this hour?

At this very minute

our kidnapping could become murder.

I can but try.

Please do.

Tell him, I have ceased being reasonable.

If he does not sign the papers now,

I will kill him.

Tell him I have no more patience.

No.

No.

No.

No.

Please, Inspector ...

will you not come without a warrant?

I am sorry, gentlemen ...

We have wasted nearly an hour.

The law cannot be hurried, Mr. Holmes.

The life of Mr. Merlas is in your hands, Inspector.

Tell him ... hmm ... tell him if I kill him ...

... I have no use anymore ...

... for his sister, and she will die, also.

But you wouldn't ...

TELL HIM!

Here it is, gentlemen ... it's signed.

Now get someone to drive us

to London Bridge Station.

I pray we're not too late!

A carriage heavily loaded with luggage

has passed that within the last half-hour.

Wait for us here.

The nest is empty and the birds are flown.

It's sulfur!

Mycroft, get the lamp!

Come, help me with the bodies!

Right!

Quick!

The poor wretch must be Paul Cretites.

No more, I'm afraid. His life is over.

We should have been here sooner, Inspector!

He must have been dead about four hours.

The gas made of sulfur,

am I not right, Dr. Watson?

Beaten to death.

But Mr. Merlas still lives.

Quick! Let's get him out of here as fast as possible!

Inspector, brandy!

Relax, Mr. Merlas, you're in safe hands.

Get the ropes off him.

From a brief look at her room,

the lady left in haste,

but without a struggle.

That man Latimer must still have some power over her.

One wonders,

with how much remorse she abandoned her brother

for Harold Latimer?

You still retain your low opinion of women?

In this instance, I cannot maybe justify.

Holmes, they appear to have consulted a Bradshaw.

Look at this page.

The boat train.

The murderers won't get far.

Have man at every port in England, if need be.

The boat train makes one stop between London and Dover.

At Hurn Hill in 23 minutes, precisely.

Exactly.

Stay with your chief witness, Inspector.

You may need a statement from him.

And he will need your help.

A little brandy, and ammonia at frequent intervals.

Mycroft, I'm not built for running so hard!

Tickets, please!

Will you kindly have your tickets ready, please?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Well, I've read about your cases, sir.

Are we the last passengers

from whom you have collected tickets?

Indeed, sir.

I always work at the engine, start there,

and work my way back to the garden.

Then you can help me.

There are three passengers, two men and a woman,

traveling together.

They may not appear to be companions,

but they will be in a compartment alone.

The elder man wears thick-lensed glasses,

and the younger one is quite handsome.

They will have a great deal of luggage marked

for the Continent.

Have you seen such a party?

Yes, indeed, I can help you, Mr. Holmes.

I never doubted it.

There are two parties

who fit that description, Mr. Holmes.

Two?

Ticket, please.

In Compartment B4 ...

B4.

... and D8.

Thank you, Inspector.

How do you know which two are the murderers?

It couldn't be simpler. No, don't wake him.

There's danger enough for the two of us.

A left-handed printer from Detford.

His older brother drinks too much

and is pained by his liver.

Can't harm mine then.

Whatever.

And the girl?

She knows neither of them,

she's a machinist from Bradford

who's going on a Holiday

to find romance.

Which means, undoubtedly,

the murderers aren't in Compartment B4.

Thank you, Miss Cretites.

Do sit still, Mr. Latimer. Do come in, Watson.

Who the hell are you?

The third member of the party is absent,

but I'm sure he will return.

Miss Cretites, may I ask

if you are this man's prisoner or companion?

Don't say anything.

They have no right to ask you anything at all.

If they were the police, they would have said so.

Why the police, Mr. Latimer?

Were you expecting to meet them?

Look, I don't know who you are,

nor do I know how you know my name,

but I'm traveling with my fianc�e

to the Continent to get married.

So, would you please leave us alone?

Otherwise, I shall be obliged to call a guard.

Please do.

I'm sure Dr. Watson would do it for you.

Ah, I see you know who I am?

Then may I be permitted to ask

your fianc�e the question again?

It's true what he said.

We are going to be married?

Where?

In Athens.

I fear not.

And who is going to stop us?

If not the police, then I will.

Miss Cretites, do you seriously want me to believe

that you are leaving England willingly?

Yes.

To marry the man who has just murdered your brother?

That's not true.

No! Murdered?

It isn't true, is it?

He's going to meet us in Greece as soon as he's well.

That's what you said to me.

And he will Sophia, he will.

Your brother is dead, Miss Cretites.

Don't listen to him.

I found his body myself in the house in Beckinum.

He had been murdered.

tortured to death.

No, it can't be.

Harold, tell me what's happened!

As for you, Mr. Latimer,

Mr. Merlas is alive as a witness to see you hanged.

Help me, Sophia, help me!

Help me! Help me!

...went very well, very well indeed.

I have friends dead.

Yes, but I need not elaborate,

as I see you are a man of the world, sir?

On the contrary ...

I've never left England in my life.

Haven't you?

No.

Then sir, if you must choose one country,

it must be Greece ...

the land of Gods, olives and intrigue.

It is my destination, Greece.

Do you speak Greek, sir?

No, but one can always find a good interpreter.

Thank you.

An excellent meal.

well, good bye, sir.

It was a pleasure meeting you.

Well, good bye.

It was an interesting conversation.

I do apologize.

Sometimes, I forget my size.

Goodbye again.

Is it true about Paul?

I'm afraid so.

I hated Harold Latimer.

I hated him, and I loved him.

I would have done anything he said.

I would have gone anywhere with him.

Even though he murdered your brother?

Yes, even then.

Mr.Cana,

we were expecting you.

I believe this is your revolver, sir?

Well, brother of mine ...

we seem to be heading down the path of crime.

The only path I intend to take

is the door to the Diogenes Club,

which I will close behind me.

What will become of her?

After questioning, nothing.

There's not a crime to her cold heart,

and not a single shred of compassion.

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