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Thank you, George.

From the point of view of the criminal expert,

London has become a singularly odd,

interesting city.

Well, I hardly think you'll find

many decent citizens to agree with you.

Well, well, well, one must not be selfish.

The community's the gain,

and no one the loser say the poor,

unfortunate specialist whose occupation was got.

You must have been totally...

There's the case of the papers of ex-President...

and shocking affair of the Dutch steamship Treesman,

which very nearly cost us both our lives.

Both of them great successes.

I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes is not at home.

If I fail to see him now, it will be too late.

But I'm sorry, I cannot help you.

But it is a matter of the utmost urgency.

I have already told you, young man, Mr. Holmes ...

Mr. Holmes!

Well, I must see you.

I told the young man you weren't here,

but he wouldn't listen.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I'm nearly out of my mind.

I am the unhappy John Hector McFarland.

Now, tell us quietly and slowly who you are

and what it is that you want.

You mentioned your name just now

as if I should recognize it,

but I can assure you,

beyond the obvious facts that you are a bachelor,

a solicitor and a free mason and an asthmatic,

I know nothing about you whatever.

Your untidy clothes, sheaf of legal papers,

watch chain and your somewhat irregular breathing.

Why, yes, Mr. Holmes, I am all these things.

And in addition, I am at this moment,

the most unfortunate man in London.

I mean, I've read your newspaper ...

Not yet.

Then, if you would allow me.

"At about 12 o'clock last night,

an instance occurred at Lower Norwood which points,

it is feared, to a serious crime.

A small timber yard caught fire at the back of a house

belonging to Mr. Jonas Oldacre, a builder.

Surprise was expressed at Mr. Oldacre's absence,

and it became apparent he had disappeared.

An examination of his room

revealed a safe which was open,

signs of a murderous struggle,

and a heavy walking stick

with stains of blood upon the handle.

As we ..."

All I ask is that you don't abandon me.

A man has followed me from London Bridge Station.

If they arrest me before I finish my story,

make them give me time

so that I may tell you the whole truth.

I could go to jail happy

if I knew that you were outside working for me.

Arrest you?

This is really most gratifying.

On what charge do you expect to be arrested?

Upon the charge of murdering

Mr. Jonas Oldacre of Lower Norwood.

Dear me!

"As we go to press,

sensational developments have been reported.

Charred remains have been found

among the ashes of the fire,

and the police theory is that the victim

was clubbed to death and the body ignited.

It is known that Mr. Oldacre

received a visitor last night,

and the stick has been identified

as belonging to that person,

a young London solicitor,

by the name of John Hector McFarland."

May I ask why you are still at liberty, Mr. McFarland,

as there seems to be enough evidence

to justify your arrest?

I live with my mother,

at Torrington Lodge in Blackheath,

but last night,

having late business with Mr. Oldacre,

I stayed at a hotel in Norwood.

Mr. Holmes, I knew nothing of this affair

until I was on the train to my office this morning

and read what you have just heard.

I saw at once the terrible danger of my position

and hurried to put the case in your hands.

Ah, Inspector Le Strade,

we have been expecting you.

Mr. Holmes?

Dr. Watson?

Mr. John Hector McFarland?

Yes.

I arrest you for the willful murder

of Mr. Jonas Oldacre of Lower Norwood.

Hold up, just one moment.

A half an hour more or less

could make little difference to you,

and this young gentleman was about to give us an account

of this very interesting affair,

which might aid us in clearing it up.

There will be no difficulty in clearing it up,

thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Nevertheless, I think with your permission,

I would be much interested in hearing his account.

Well, Mr. Holmes,

there's no denying that you have been

of use to the force

once or twice in the past, but I must insist ...

All I ask is that you should hear

and recognize the absolute truth.

I'll give you half an hour.

Sit down, McFarland.

Thank you, Le Strade.

We must warn you with what you say now

will appear in evidence against you.

Pray continue.

I must first explain that I knew nothing

of Mr. Jonas Oldacre,

although his name was familiar to me.

Many years ago, my parents were acquainted with him,

but ... well, they drifted apart.

And so it came as a complete surprise

when yesterday afternoon, at about 3 o'clock,

he walked into my office in the city.

"Mr. Oldacre, good afternoon,

I'm Mr. McFarland.

Would you care to come through?

Please, won't you sit down?

How can I help you?

This is a draft of my Will.

I want you, Mr. McFarland,

to cast it into proper legal shape.

I shall sit here while you do so.

You can understand my astonishment, Mr. Holmes,

when I found that, with some minor reservations,

his entire estate had been left to me.

"But I ... I simply don't understand.

Well, then, let me explain.

I'm a bachelor, Mr. McFarland,

with few relatives,

and none who deserve my consideration.

Well, that may well be so ...

Let me ... let me finish.

I beg your pardon.

For many years now, I've withdrawn from my business.

I was a builder, and though I say it myself,

an extremely successful one.

Successful enough to have gained considerable wealth

and thus live out my life in complete,

if solitary, comfort.

Many years ago, I knew your mother.

Knew her, and hoped to marry her.

Then she met and married your father.

I had no idea.

Well, and why should you?

Three months ago, why,

I read of your father's death

in The Daily Telegraph,

and my mind was turned to your mother

and to the son who might very well have been my own.

This is my way of securing your future.

I know that whatever I leave

will be in worthy hands.

What can I say, but thank you?

There are a few documents I think you should see ...

building leases, title deeds,

mortgages and so on.

Well, now my mind's made up,

I shan't rest easy until the whole thing's settled.

Yes, of course.

I beg you to come to my house tonight.

What shall we say, 9 o'clock?

Why, yes.

You'll of course bring the finalized Will,

and then we can settle the matter once and for all.

Yes, of course.

Thank you, my boy.

Oh, one last thing.

Not a word of this to your dear mother

until everything is settled.

I want it to be a little surprised for her.

Little, I ...

You ... you promise?

You have my word.

I left in good time for my appointment,

but had difficulty in finding the house,

so that it was nearly half-past before I reached it.

Good evening.

I have an appointment with Mr. Oldacre.

Mr. McFarland?

Yes, that's right.

It was not the warmest of receptions.

And the house itself had a peculiar, unloved feeling.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my boy.

Not at all, sir.

I'm a little late, I'm afraid.

Now, you brought the papers?

Yes, indeed.

Excellent.

The bedroom was on the ground floor

where there was a large safe.

"Bring the rest of those papers, my boy.

Now, to business.

All done?

Yes, sir, all done.

Just seen the time, my boy.

You must get home.

Oh, thank you.

I had a stick with me.

Ah, I wonder where she put it?

A rather heavy walking stick.

It belonged to my father.

Ah, never mind, I'll take good care of it until we meet again.

After all, I shall be seeing a great deal of you now, I hope.

Indeed you shall, sir.

I left him there.

The safe was open,

and the documents were on his desk.

It was too late to go back to Blackheath,

and so I spent the night at a hotel in Norwood.

I knew nothing more of this horrible affair

until this morning.

Do you have the original draft of the Will

that Oldacre brought to you?

Why, yes, I ... I have it here.

May I retain this for 24 hours, Inspector?

It would amuse you.

Well, anything more you'd like to ask, Mr. Holmes?

Not until I've been to Blackheath.

You mean Norwood?

No doubt, that is what I must have meant.

Now, Mr. McFarland,

my Constable's at the door,

there's a four-wheeler waiting.

Morning, gentlemen.

Morning.

There are certain points about this document,

are there not Watson?

Well, I can read the first two lines

and these in the middle of the second page

and one or two at the end,

I mean, they're as clear as print.

But the writing in between is very bad,

and there's several places where I can't read it at all.

What do make of that?

What do you make of it?

That it was written on the train.

The good writing represents stations,

the bad writing movement, and the very bad writing ...

Passing over the points?

A scientific expert would pronounce at once

that it was drawn up on a suburban line.

Since nowhere,

save in the immediate vicinity of a great city,

could there be so quick a succession of points.

Granting that his whole journey

was occupied in drawing up the Will,

then the train must have been an express,

stopping only once between Norwood and London Bridge.

Yes, but it's curious, is it not,

that a man should draw up so important a document

in so haphazard a fashion?

And it suggests that he thought

it was going to be of no practical importance.

Well, he drew up his death warrant at the same time.

This case is not clear to me.

Come, Watson!

Where are we going, Norwood?

No, Blackheath.

Come!

My son's the gentlest creature on God's earth.

It's inconceivable he could even contemplate

such a terrible crime.

He didn't even know the man, Mr. Holmes.

But you did, Mrs. McFarland.

Years ago.

I'd forgotten that he ever existed.

I tried to forget.

It's impossible to quite forget

a man like Jonas Oldacre.

Yes, I knew him well.

At one time, we were engaged to be married.

Thank heaven I had the sense to turn away from him

and marry a better, if poorer, man.

Oh, please.

Your husband died recently?

He was a kind man, gentle man.

He was everything Jonas Oldacre was not.

And yet, at one time, you were prepared to marry him?

I said that I knew him well,

but the more I knew of him,

the more I came to realize

I knew him not at all.

He would change suddenly, would also frighten me.

There was a dark side to his character, Mr. Holmes.

A desire to cause pain.

My own photograph.

It was my first present to him.

Good heavens!

That was how it was returned to me

on my wedding day,

together with a vile note

urging a curse upon my house

and saying he'd never forgive me.

And yet, he does seem to have forgiven you ...

after all, to leave his entire estate to your son.

Neither my son nor I want anything

from that wicked man, dead or alive.

Mrs. McFarland, the fact remains

that the Will was made.

I simply can't understand it.

Why?

Had you ever spoken of Oldacre to your son?

I mean, perhaps told him what you've just told me now?

No, never.

Never?

He found the photograph.

My husband tried to make light of it,

but he insisted.

My husband told him something of the truth, that's all.

And the boy was disturbed?

He was upset, naturally.

You see, Mrs. McFarland, what the police might say is,

that he had heard of Oldacre's behavior toward you.

It would pre-dispose him toward hatred and violence.

And so that case against him would be

considerably strengthened.

No.

There is a God in heaven, Mr. Holmes,

and that same God who's punished that wicked man

will show in his own good time,

my son's hands are guiltless of his blood.

Wait here, please.

Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

We're just clearing up.

The Will as promised.

Look, buttons!

Trouser buttons.

No doubt, you've brought your glass with you?

The name is Hiams.

According to Mrs. Lexington, the housekeeper, Hiams,

is the name of Mr. Oldacre's tailor.

Presumably, the organic remains

have been removed to the laboratory?

They have, Doctor,

though they'll be of little use, I suspect.

The poor devil was no more than bone and cinder.

How very convenient for the murderer.

Not, I might venture, for Mr. Oldacre.

Nevertheless, Inspector, bones cinder.

Thank heavens, he was wearing his trousers.

This stick belongs to the accused,

and he's never denied it.

He says that he could not find it

when he came to leave the house.

Says, Mr. Holmes, says.

My experts made out footmarks

of both men on the carpet.

And too much subsequent traffic

to make any examination on my part worthwhile.

Two sets of footmarks, Mr. Holmes.

None of any third person.

Another trick for your side.

I suppose all these papers are from the safe?

Correct.

And nothing, absolutely nothing,

has been removed?

Nothing whatsoever.

We have opened one or two, as you can see,

to check the contents.

May I check them?

By all means.

I, myself, have business at The Yard.

Oh, and I would like to see the housekeeper ...

what is her name?

Mrs. Lexington.

She'll add nothing more to what you already know.

Nevertheless.

I'll send her in.

Could it be that for once

Le Strade is on the right track?

All my instincts are one way,

and all the facts are the other.

You wish to see me, sir?

Yes.

Mrs. Lexington, this is my friend and colleague,

Dr. Watson.

Do sit down.

I'll stand, if I may.

This room has no comfort for me.

You let young Mr. McFarland into this house at 9:30?

Yes.

I wish that my hand had withered before I'd done so.

And you retired to bed at?

20 minutes past 11:00.

20 minutes past 11:00.

And you heard nothing?

My room is at the far end of the house.

I heard nothing until the fire alarm sounded.

It was then, only then,

that I realized my poor master had been murdered.

Mrs. Lexington, to your knowledge,

did your master have any enemies?

Every man has his enemies.

And a businessman like Mr. Oldacre,

more than most, perhaps?

He was a well-respected gentleman

who kept himself very much to himself.

Do you know anything about these papers?

I know nothing

of Mr. Oldacre's private affairs.

The buttons that the police found in the fire?

My master had three suits made by Mr. Hiams ...

two are still in that wardrobe there,

and the third he was wearing that night.

Thank you, Mrs. Lexington,

you have been most cooperative.

What do you make of her?

Tight as wax, if you ask me,

but then, perhaps that's her usual manner?

It's all wrong, I feel it in my bones,

something ... something has not come out,

and that woman knows it.

Holmes, would you like me to have a look at these papers?

Well, a man's bank account can tell us

as much as his diary.

Correct.

Thank you, Watson.

It's all right Constable,

I'm just stretching my legs.

I'll watch them.

Ah, Constable.

Are you a local man?

Born on Bridge, sir, not a half-mile from here.

Excellent.

Then perhaps you can offer me some local knowledge?

I'll do my best, sir,

I'll most certainly do my best.

Holmes!

Le Strade did say that no documents had been removed?

Yes.

That's what I thought.

You've found something?

No, it's what I haven't found that interests me.

There are certain cross-references

to various deeds, valuable deeds,

none of which I can find.

But one thing is clear:

Oldacre was hardly

in the affluent circumstances

we have been led to believe.

His bank account was practically empty,

largely because he had made several large payments

in the past year to a certain Mr. Cornelius.

Young McFarland would have inherited nothing.

This is of interest.

Why should a retired builder

have such large transactions with a Mr. Cornelius?

Well, let's take our cab,

and see what we can find out from his city bank.

You coming?

I'll stay here for awhile.

Norwood Station.

So, you're not going back to London

with your friend, then?

No, not yet, anyway.

I do hope my presence doesn't inconvenience you.

By the way, I should warn you,

I found an undesirable lurking about by the gates.

I saw him on ...

An undesirable?

A tramp, Mrs. Lexington,

a gentlemen of the road.

He will get nothing here.

Ah, you don't believe in

supporting our less fortunate brethren?

I work, so can they.

Quite so.

I'm on my way to Croxton.

I've done enough walking, I have...

To all kinds of places.

I'll stay put.

I used to meet a friend of mine here.

Oh, you might know him, he's a seafaring man.

Aha, I know him.

Shared my billet for the last four nights, he does.

And off he goes, without even a word.

You take my tip.

Stay clear of him.

He's a liar.

He didn't strike me as such.

He goes up to that big house, he does.

He comes back here and tells some yarn

about him putting out with old mans,

and telling him to come back tomorrow

and they'll give him some grub

and some cast-offs for him.

Well, how is that lying?

Because, my friend,

I already paid my call.

I nearly got my lord on my back

for my insolence ...

insolence.

Perhaps he told you a pleasing tale.

Are you saying,

that a drunken sailor has more to offer

than a Sergeant in the 22nd?

No, no.

He's a liar.

He says, "Whatever I get," he says,

"I'll share with you, shipmate, " he says.

Off he goes.

Not a sight of him since.

Holmes,

you must permit yourself some food.

You must eat.

A present, I cannot afford energy

and nerve force for digestion.

Well, you must if you intend to pursue this case.

I feel, my dear fellow,

that our case will end ingloriously

by Le Strade hanging our client,

which will certainly be a triumph for Scotland Yard.

There's a telegram.

"Important fresh evidence at hand,

McFarland's guilt definitely established,

advise you to abandon case, Le Strade."

It is Le Strade's little cockle-doodle of victory.

Let's have some breakfast,

and then go out together and see what we can do.

I feel as if I shall need your company

and moral support today.

Ah, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

I think you will acknowledge

that we're just a little in front of you this time.

Step this way, if you please, gentlemen,

and I'm sure I can convince you

that it was John McFarland

who committed this crime.

I don't like being wrong any more than the rest of us do.

Still, a man can't always

expect to have it his own way,

can he Dr. Watson?

This is where the housekeeper left

McFarland's hat and stick,

and this is also where he would have come

to collect his hat after the crime was committed.

Now, look at this.

A thumb mark.

So I observe.

A thumb mark in blood.

You are aware that no two thumb marks are alike?

I have heard something of the kind.

Identical.

And that was taken from McFarland this morning.

Definitely the same thumb mark.

And that is final.

Quite final.

Who made this discovery?

It was Mrs. Lexington here

who drew my Constable's attention to it.

And, I suppose,

there is no doubt that the mark was there yesterday?

Well, of course McFarland could have crept out

of jail in the middle of the night

just to strengthen the evidence against himself.

Ha-ha.

Have you any objection if I take a stroll upstairs?

No, none at all.

There's nothing up there, though.

So many things look so bad, Holmes.

But there is a serious flaw in this new evidence.

What's that?

That thumb print was not there

when I examined the hall yesterday.

Inspector Le Strade,

I cannot help thinking your evidence is incomplete.

What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?

Merely that there is an important witness

that you have not yet seen.

You can produce this witness, can you?

I think I can.

Well then, do so.

I'll do my best.

How many Constables have you?

Three within call.

Excellent.

I assume that they are able-bodied,

large men with powerful voices?

No doubt that they are, yeah.

In the outhouse, there is a quantity of straw.

I would like two bundles brought in.

Straw?

And two buckets of water.

Water?

Ask them to bring it to the top landing.

Straw, into the fireplace, a little bit in front.

Two buckets of water to that side, Constable.

Mr. Holmes!

I don't know whether you're playing a game with us,

but surely tell us without all this tom-foolery.

I can assure you, Le Strade,

I have an excellent reason for everything that I do.

Watson, would you put a match to that straw?

And Constable, will you sprinkle it with water?

Now, we must see

if we can find this witness for you, Le Strade.

Gentlemen,

would you please join me and we'll call a fire ...

one, two three ... FIRE!

Fire.

We can do better than that.

Full voice, and together.

FIRE!

Good heavens,

Constable, a bucket of water on that straw.

Le Strade, allow me to present you

with your missing principal witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre.

What's this then?

What have you been doing all this time?

I've done no harm.

NO harm!

You've only done your best

to get an innocent man hanged.

If it wasn't for this gentleman standing here,

I'm not sure you wouldn't have succeeded.

Take him!

Let us see where this rat has been lurking.

Now you see the advantage of being a builder,

he was able to fix up his own little hiding place

without any confederate,

save for that precious housekeeper of his,

whom I should lose no time in adding to your bag, Inspector.

And these are the missing papers, no doubt?

No doubt whatsoever.

Constable, find the housekeeper.

How did you know about that place, Mr. Holmes?

When I compared the proportions of this room

with those of the room below,

I deduced that this fireplace wall was false.

Oldacre clearly had a great deal of nerve,

but little enough, I've found,

to like quiet before an alarm of fire.

How in the world did you know

that he was in the house at all?

The thumb mark, Le Strade.

When I examined the hall yesterday, it was clear.

Therefore, it must have been put there during the night.

But how?

After McFarland had examined the papers that night,

he resealed them.

To do so, he used his thumb upon the wax.

Brooding in that den of his,

it suddenly struck Oldacre

what use he could make of that thumbprint.

Smearing the wax with a little blood,

he made what appeared to be absolutely

damning evidence against McFarland.

But what was the object of his deception?

Ah, well, you see Inspector,

in order to swindle his creditors,

who were pressing him,

Oldacre emptied his bank account by paying out

several large sums to a certain Mr. Cornelius.

Now, I have no doubt that Messers Oldacre

and Cornelius are one and the same person,

the object being to change his name,

draw on the money, and then vanish.

We see before us a very deep,

malicious and vindictive man.

Did you know that he was once refused

by McFarland's mother?

All his life, he has longed for vengeance.

If he could give the impression

that he was murdered

by the only child of his former sweetheart,

what more better revenge?

I would never have allowed any real harm

to befall poor Mr. McFarland,

I assure you.

That's for the jury to decide.

You're charging me?

For a joke?

It's nothing more than a practical joke.

It's nothing less than murder ...

the body in the fire.

But whose body was it?

And old sailor, Le Strade,

who had fallen upon hard times.

When I examined the ashes of that fire,

I discovered that your experts had missed this.

It is a tooth of the great white shark,

and you see that it has been lightly carved.

It is typical of the work carried out by seamen.

Well, this isn't evidence enough

to show who died in the fire.

I know for certain that on Monday,

the day before the murder,

a tramp called at this house.

Yet, when I questioned the housekeeper,

she assured me

that no such tramp would ever be welcome.

Not only was his reception welcoming,

but the man received some of Oldacre's clothing.

Yesterday, near the front gate,

I found the calling card that he left,

a coded sign advising his fellow travelers

of a charitable welcome.

And last night,

with the help of your local Constable,

I talked to one of these fellow travelers,

who said that the unfortunate seaman

had been asked to call back the following day

with the assurance of further hospitality.

And so, the next morning,

wearing his new clothes,

or at least his new trousers, he returned ...

and was never seen again.

You've saved an innocent man's life, Mr. Holmes.

You've also saved me some embarrassment.

Ah, my good chap!

You will find that your reputation

has been enormously enhanced.

Just make a few alterations to that report

which you are writing,

and they will understand how hard it is

to throw dust in the eyes of Inspector Le Strade.

You don't want your name to appear?

Not at all.

His work is its own reward.

I'll see you hang for this!

That privilege must surely be mine.

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