All language subtitles for 02. The Dancing Men

Elsie, what's the matter?

Elsie!

So, Watson.

Hmm.

You do not propose to invest
in South African securities?

How on earth
do you know that?

Now, confess, you are
utterly taken aback.

I am!

I should make you sign a paper
to that effect.

Why?

Because in a few minutes
you will say

it is all
so absurdly simple.

I should say
nothing of the kind!

You see, my dear Watson,
it is not really difficult

to construct a series
of inferences,

each dependent upon
its predecessor

and each simple in itself.

If, after doing so,

one simply knocks out
the central inferences

and presents one's audience

with the starting point
and the conclusion,

one may produce a startling,

though possibly
a meretricious, effect.

I can tell by an inspection
of the groove

between your
left forefinger and thumb,

that you have decided not
to invest your small capital

in the gold fields.

I can see no connection.

Very likely not;

but I can quickly give you
a close connection.

Here are the missing links
in the very simple chain:

You had chalk between
your forefinger and thumb

when you returned
from the club last night.

You put chalk there when you
play billiards, to ease the cue.

You never play billiards
except with Thurston.

Now, Thurston, you told me,
four weeks ago,

had an option on some
South African security

which expired in a month,

and which he desired you
to share with him.

Your checkbook is
locked in my drawer,

and you have not asked
for the key.

So, you do not propose to invest
your money in that manner.

How absurdly simple!

Quite so.

Every problem is absurdly simple
when it is explained to you.

Bum, bum, bum, bum.

Holmes, why are you
so cheerful?

You're unemployed,
you have no case to solve.

Now, normally that produces
black moods

and the infernal lethargy
of the cocaine bottle.

You have not used
the logical principles

which I constantly expound.

Sherlock Holmes is cheerful,

so, Sherlock Holmes
must have a case.

Pa!

See what you can make of that,
friend Watson.

Why, Holmes,
it's a child's drawing.

Ah, is that your idea?

Well, what else
should it be?

Well, that is what
a Mr. Hilton Cubitt,

of Ridling Thorpe Manor,
Darbyshire, is anxious to know.

That conundrum came
by the first post,

and he is to follow
by the next train.

Hilton Cubitt.

No, no, I have already
looked him up, Watson.

His family has owned land in
Darbyshire for over 500 years,

so I presume that Mr. Cubitt is
as respectable as he is worthy.

With a fresh face,
an open countenance,

and wearing
a brown bowler hat.

Oh, no, you cannot
possibly know that.

Really, Holmes?

Uh, you will stay and keep
a record of the case?

My dear fellow.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

This way, Mr. Cubitt.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Hilton Cubitt.

And this is my friend
and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Dr. Watson, sir.

How do you do?

Do sit down, Mr. Cubitt.

Thank you.

So, what do you make of it,
gentlemen? This thing.

Have you had time
to study it?

Absurd little figures
dancing in a line,

it's a childish prank.

Why do you attach importance
to something so trivial?

I don't, Mr. Holmes.

I--I never should.

No, it's--it's--
it's my wife, you see.

She--

Go on, Mr. Cubitt,
you're with friends.

But it's--it's frightened her
almost to death.

She says nothing,
tries to appear normal,

but I've never
seen anyone so upset.

In white chalk on a garden seat,
it is a precise copy?

Oh, it's as exact
as I could make it.

I did think it might be
the stable boy,

but the lad denied it.

If there's any danger
threatening my wife, Mr. Holmes,

I'd spend my last penny
to protect her.

Do sit down, Mr. Cubitt.

Do you smoke, Mr. Cubitt?

Uh, yes.

Uh, no, no, no,
I won't, thank you.

Tell us about your wife,
Mr. Cubitt.

Well, uh, I've always
lived in Darbyshire,

Ridling Thorpe Manor,
near Matlock.

I was a bachelor
and thought I'd remain one

until three years ago I came
down to London on a visit.

It's a rare thing for me, but--

well, I had a mind to see
the Queen's Golden Jubilee.

I put up at a boardinghouse
in Russell Square,

because Parker,
he's the vicar of our parish,

he was staying there.

There was also a young
American lady staying there,

Patrick was her name,
Elsie Patrick.

We were both alone,
and we became friends,

did the sites and that.

At your expense?

Certainly not.

Are you suggesting--

No, he's not,
Mr. Cubitt, not at all.

Was this Miss Elsie Patrick in
London merely for the Jubilee?

No, no, no,
she'd been here some time.

She'd tired of America,
traveled about,

and finally settled
in England.

Well, not to make a labor of it,
before my holiday was over,

I was as much in love
as any man ever has been.

To my surprise
and joy, she--

she reciprocated my feelings,
and we were married.

Excellent.

Quietly, in a--
in a Register Office.

You think I'm mad, Mr. Holmes,
taking a wife in such a fashion,

knowing nothing about her?

Explain, Mr. Cubitt,
and come to the point!

Oh, uh, yes, in fact, it was
on the very day of our marriage.

Nothing could have made me
unhappy, nothing on that day.

But now I look back,
it was odd.

Elsie?

There is something
I have to say to you, Hilton.

We don't want to be late,
my dear.

I've put it off till now.

But I must still give you
the chance to change your mind.

Elsie, what in the world?

Let me finish!

And what I say,
I do mean.

I love you dearly,

but you know nothing of my life
before we met.

I never asked.

One of the things which has
made me so fond of you.

If you marry me, Hilton,
I promise you marry a woman

who has nothing personally
to be ashamed of.

But you'll have to take
my word for it,

and allow me
to be silent forever

as to my life
before we met.

If that's too much to ask,

then you must go back
to your Darbyshire

and leave me to the lonely life
in which you found me.

It's little enough to ask,
and I shall never let you go.

These have been the happiest
three years of my life.

And when did the first cloud

cover the sun
of this great happiness?

You have a way of putting
things, Mr. Holmes.

And you have a way

of prevaricating with
your answers, Mr. Cubitt.

Well, it was, uh,
some months ago, May in fact.

Hilton?!

Hello!

Here, in the drawing room!

Well, what do you think?

Yes, great improvement!

Thank you, Saunders.

I met the postman,
saved him a journey.

Here's a bill.

Here's one for you,
an American stamp, Chicago.

Oh!

I hope lunch is ready,
I'm ravenous.

She burned the letter,
unopened?

Yes, I don't know why.

Of course you don't.

America is her past, and the
subject of a solemn promise.

Yes, but she's not had
an easy hour from that moment.

If only she'd trust me.

Now, I have every faith in her,
you must believe that.

Whatever there was in her past,
I'm sure it's no fault of hers.

And the dancing men?

Oh, yes,

well, I thought she was
getting over the letter,

and then these--
these drawings appeared.

It's just a childish scrawl,

but it made everything
worse than before.

Well, I couldn't
just leave it.

And it wasn't the sort of thing
I could take to the police

for they would have
laughed at me,

so I've come to you.

Don't you think,
Mr. Cubitt,

that your best plan would be

to make a direct appeal
to your wife,

and ask her to share
her secret with you?

A promise is a promise,
Mr. Holmes.

If Elsie wishes to tell me,
then she will.

But I have no right
to force a confidence.

However, I do feel entitled
to take my own line, and I will.

Then I will
help you with all my heart.

Have you seen or heard of any
strangers in the neighborhood?

No, no, I haven't.

Some of the farmers
take in lodgers,

but I've not heard
of any lately.

Then I suggest that you return
to Darbyshire, Mr. Cubitt,

and keep a sharp lookout.

And make an exact copy

of any fresh dancing men
that may appear.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.
I will.

Oh, and Mr. Cubitt,

this letter which
started your wife's torment,

you are quite certain that
it was from the United States?

Yeah, the postmark was Chicago.

Goodbye!
And don't worry.

It's perfectly natural

she should receive
a letter from America,

she's from America.

Yes, but it is not natural to
throw it onto the fire unopened.

Ah.

It's beginning
to look like semaphore.

You have read my monograph
on secret ciphers?

Some of it.

I found it rather
heavy going.

It evidently has a meaning.

If it is purely arbitrary,
it may be impossible to solve.

However, if it is systematic,

we should be able to get
to the bottom of it.

But we need more messages,
and preferably long ones.

Well, I doubt if Hilton Cubitt
would agree with that.

Walker,

do you know anything
about this?

No, sir.

I've not been out
in the front all day.

Has Mrs. Cubitt
been out here?

I've no way of knowing,
have I, sir?

When I've done this,
I want you to wash it off,

and tell no one about it,
and then come to me.

I shall have an urgent letter
for you to post.

Elsie?

Elsie,

what are you doing?

I was looking for you.

I thought I heard the door.

Have you been out today,
out of the house?

Hilton, come to bed,

everything will look better
in the morning.

Will the drawings look better?!

Will the dancing men
look better?!

Why do they fuss you so?

Fuss me?!

They're just a joke,
a bit of mischief!

The moon's high.

Where I come from, they say a
moon like that drives you crazy.

Why don't we travel, Hilton,
why don't we go away?

I love this place
as much as I love you.

Hilton--

What did you see?

Nothing, nothing at all!

Please, dearest.

Hilton, I beg you!

There's somebody outside.

Hilton!

Hilton, wait!

You'll come to harm!

Or are you afraid
he will come to harm?!

These two are identical.

Yes.

Well, I had that one
washed off,

then it must have reappeared.

You know, it's a pity you didn't
get a closer look at this chap.

If only she hadn't
tried to stop me.

I've never been angry
with her before,

but she knew who was out there,
of that I'm sure.

And she knows
what these figures mean.

Was this a mere
addition to this,

or did it appear to be
entirely separate?

That was on a separate panel
of the door.

Well, I know
what I'm going to do,

I shall go home,

sit with half a dozen of my lads
in the shrubbery,

and if this fellow
calls again,

give him such a thrashing he'll
leave us alone in the future.

Well, that would
be one way.

Mr. Cubitt, this case is too
deep for such a simple remedy.

I must go now
if I'm to catch my train.

I'd not leave
Elsie alone at night.

Elsie!

Quite right.

Good day, Mr. Cubitt.

We will join you in a couple
of days, and be patient!

Good bye, Dr. Watson.

I'll find my own way.

Bye.

You weren't
exactly sympathetic.

He doesn't come to me
for sympathy.

It is a considerable challenge.

I shall work better
for silence.

Oh, well,

I dare say I can find
something quiet to do.

Whoa, sit.

Where did you find this?

Down by the garden bench.

Will that, uh, mean

you'll be wanting me to take
another letter for London, sir?

Very well.

I'll have to get a move on if
I'm gonna catch the last post.

Walker, just do
what you're told!

Yes, Watson?

Uh, I thought you
might like the Times, Holmes.

What do you make
of my progress?

Well, it still
doesn't mean very much, does it?

Quite enough for me to send
a telegram to the United States.

What on earth does
that mean, "ABESLANE"?

Watson, if this is E,

flag denotes
the end of words.

Mm, this grouse is superb.

Mrs. Hudson has really surpassed
herself this time.

What time is the last train
to Matlock?

I'm afraid we've missed it.

Holmes, I do wish
you would try and eat a bite.

I just need an answer
to my telegram from America,

and the story is complete.

Abe, I wanna stay,
and I'm going to stay.

What about your
friends in Chicago?

What about your family?!

Friends do you call them;

killers, robbers,
extortionists, some family.

But you and I
were engaged!

I'm sorry, Abe,
my father forced me into it.

How could I be happy
with you in that life?!

Please go away,
please, I beg you.

You beg me?!

Yes.

Hilton is
such a good man.

It would break my heart
if scandal ever touched him.

Here's money,

it's all that I have.

No!

You're coming home!

No!

You're coming home!

No!

What the--

No!!

Watson?

What the devil is going on?

An answer to your telegram?

No, it's another letter
from Hilton Cubitt.

"ELSIE

PRE-P ARE."

Mr. Holmes, sir.

Thank you.

It's from Wilson Hargreave,
of the Chicago Police Bureau.

"In reply to your inquiry,

Abe Slaney is one of the most
dangerous men in Chicago."

Come along, come along.

There's a cab!

Ridling Thorpe Manor,
gentlemen?

As fast as you can!

How do you know?

Bet you're the surgeon
from London, sir.

I beg your pardon,
what makes you--

She's not dead yet, sir.

You may be able to save her,
but she's for the gallows.

The gallows?!

Right, sir,
she murdered her husband.

Inspector of Police, and Doctor
of Medicine, I perceive?

Yes, indeed, Inspector Martin,
Darbyshire Constabulary.

And I am Dr. Carthew,
the surgeon.

This way, gentlemen.

This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

and I am his friend
and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Mr. Holmes, but what do you know
of this business?!

A good deal.

Mr. Hilton Cubitt
was my client.

But the crime was only committed
at 3:00 o'clock this morning.

How could you hear of it
in London

and get to the spot
as soon as I?

I anticipated it.

We came in hope
of preventing it.

Then you must have
important evidence

of which I am ignorant.

Only the evidence
of the dancing men.

The dancing men?

I will explain
all that to you later.

Since we are too late
to prevent this tragedy,

I am anxious to insure
that justice is done.

Will you associate me
in your investigation,

or will you prefer that
I should act independently?

I should be proud for us
to work together, Mr. Holmes.

But I must warn you, there seems
very little to investigate.

Mr. Hilton Cubitt has been shot
through the heart and he's dead.

And Mrs. Cubitt?

Seriously wounded.

The bullet passed through
the front of her brain,

and she's still unconscious.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Only one gun has been found,
lying on the floor between them.

Two bullets have been fired.

With respect, Mr. Holmes,

it seems quite clear that
Mrs. Cubitt murdered her husband

and then turned the gun
upon herself.

But they were
a most devoted couple!

The murder room is through here,
Mr. Holmes.

No, I would like to start
by interviewing the servants.

And I beg you, nothing,

absolutely nothing
is to be moved.

Is this the way
to the kitchen?

I should think it must
have happened about

3:00 o'clock
in the morning, sir.

Where are your rooms?

On top, sir.

The attics!

I was awoke
by this terrible bang,

an explosion
is the only word.

And about a minute later--

It was less than a minute.

--there was another bang,
only not so loud.

What did you do?

We came downstairs, sir,

expecting to find
Mr. Cubitt up and about,

chasing burglars or
the house on fire, or--

And the bedroom door was open.

We looked in but the bed
was empty so we came on down.

There was smoke,

and the smell
was worse down here.

Smell?

Ah, you mean
of the gunpowder?

I suppose it was, sir, yes.

Now, you say the smell
was worse downstairs.

Could you also smell
gunpowder upstairs?

Yes, sir.

I commend that fact

very carefully to your attention, Inspector.

Mrs. King!

would you like to sit down,
Mrs. King?

Now, was the library door
open when you reached it?

Open, yes, sir.

We could see the candle alight
on the table and so we came in.

Then, oh dear,

as terrible a thing as
ever I saw or ever fear to see.

She was terrible
wounded, sir.

She was moaning and groaning,

then she sort of
collapsed on the floor

and she hasn't said
anything since.

Saunders?

We moved her
to her bedroom, sir,

and sent Fred Walker for
the doctor and the police.

And there was no sign of
a break-in, or of an intruder?

No, sir.

And all the doors
and windows was locked,

as we had left them
when we went to bed.

Inspector...

Oh, yes...

Apart from poor Mrs. Cubitt,

nothing else
has been moved?

No, sir.

No, we've touched nothing,
Mr. Holmes.

Thank you.
Then I think we can proceed.

Almost instantaneous death,
presumably.

Mm, straight
through the heart.

The bullet's still there.

What about the bullet
that wounded Mrs. Cubitt?

That's still in her, as well.

It will take hands more nimble
than mine to move it.

Is this Mrs. Cubitt's handbag?

Yes, it is, Mr. Holmes.

At least twenty
50-pound notes,

a bribe that failed.

So, two bullets fired,

two wounds inflicted,
as you said.

Yes, Doctor.

Then how do you account
for the bullet

that has so obviously
struck the window frame?

By George,
however did you see that?!

Because, Dr. Carthew,
I looked for it.

Wonderful, why,
the bullet's still there!

So a third shot
must have been fired.

Which means that a third person
must have been present.

Exactly!

When you came into
this room last night,

you say that the door was ajar;
was not that window also open?

I don't know, sir.

No, sir.

It was shut.

Saunders, will you and Cook
wait in the library,

and you, Walker.

Dr. Carthew,
you may remove the body.

It was Mrs. Cubitt herself
who shut that window.

If Saunders and the Cook smelled
smoke and gunpowder upstairs,

then there must have been
a strong through draft.

Otherwise, it would not
have spread so quickly

through the house.

We know that door was open,

that window, too,
must also have been open,

but only for a short time.

Why only for a short time?

Because the candles
have not gutted.

There is
no trail of wax.

Wonderful, wonderful!

If the late Mr. Hilton Cubitt

fired the bullet which
pierced the window frame,

he must have been
aiming at

someone who was
standing either inside

or just outside the window.

Oh, thank you, Inspector.

Which means that the bullet
which killed Mr. Cubitt

could have been fired by--

Inspector, your thoughts
and mine agree entirely.

This is the cartridge case

of the bullet which killed
Mr. Hilton Cubitt.

Holmes,

if three shots were fired,

why did Mrs. King and Saunders
only hear two shots?

They were telling the truth,
but lied without realizing it.

I'm not sure
that I follow you.

You remember
what Mrs. King said,

"I was awoken by this
terrible bang, an explosion,

it is the only word.

And then a minute later

there was another bang
but not so loud."

The first bang was two shots,
fired almost simultaneously;

one from the window,
which killed Hilton Cubitt,

and one from Hilton Cubitt,

which missed and went
into the window frame.

And the third shot?

The saddest of all,
Mrs. Cubitt,

self-administered
in her despair.

Now, do any of you know of
an inn in the neighborhood

called Elrige's?

There's a farmer of that name,
lives some miles off,

in the direction of,
uh, Milbrook.

Is it a lonely farm?

Very lonely, sir.

Then it is just possible

that the news of what happened
here last night

has not reached them.

Maybe not, sir.

Excellent!

Walker,

I want you
to take this note

to a Mr. Abe Slaney
of Elrige's Farm.

Do not say that
the note is from me,

and make no mention of
what happened here last night.

Now, you understand?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Walker.

I am expecting a visitor
in answer to my note.

Now, Saunders, he will
ask for Mrs. Cubitt.

I want you to show him
into this room.

I want this house
to look quite normal,

and you must not give anything
away of what has happened.

Very good, sir.

Now, I suggest you return
to your duties.

And, Dr. Carthew, I suggest
you return to your patient.

Oh, Mrs. King,

your mistress
is quite innocent.

But how did
you break the code?

Well, you see,

the rules which guide us in
deciphering all secret writing

depend on the fact that E,

E is the most common letter
in the English language.

So, you see,
we were very fortunate

that Mrs. Cubitt's name
was Elsie,

and that it featured
in the second message,

which gave us not only the E,
but the L, the S and the I.

Now, next,
it seemed likely to us

that two of the messages
were appeals of some sort

to Mrs. Cubitt...

...by adding the T and the G,
the message reads:

"AT ELRIGE'S, COME ELSIE."

Well, if this Abe Slaney
is indeed the murderer,

we must make an immediate move
to arrest him.

Calm yourself, Inspector.

I expect him here
at any moment.

But why should
Slaney come here?

Because I have written
and asked him.

But won't his
suspicions be roused?

Will he not try to escape?

Saunders?

Excuse me, sir, there's a
gentleman approaching the house.

Do you think he'd be armed?

He's a fool if he's not.

Good day, sir.

Is Mrs. Cubitt at home?

I'll inquire, sir,
if you'll step inside.

What name shall I say?

Tell her it's an old friend.
She's expecting me.

If you'll wait
in the library a moment.

Well, gentlemen, it looks like
you've got the drop on me,

but what the hell
is going on?

Abe Slaney, I believe.

What if I am,
and who are you, anyway?

My name would mean
nothing to you,

though I suspect
that of Wilson Hargreave

of the Chicago Police
Department, will.

Ah, I see that it does.

Mr. Slaney,
you should know

that Mrs. Elsie Cubitt
is very seriously ill.

I don't believe you.

This is some cheap trick.

Mrs. Elsie Cubitt wrote me
a note just an hour ago,

a note that only
I can understand.

What one man can invent,
another can discover:

"I'M HERE, ABE SLANEY.
AT ELRIGE'S, COME ELSIE."

And your last note to her:

"ELSIE PREPARE
TO MEET THY GOD."

And this.

You wrote that note?

But you were lying about Elsie.

Slaney, when you shot and killed
Hilton Cubitt,

Elsie Cubitt, in her despair,
attempted to kill herself,

and is now
at death's door.

No.

No, I gotta see her!!

I gotta see her, I love her,
for God's sake, Elsie!!

I love you, Elsie!!

Elsie, Elsie!!

I believe that she fled
from America to avoid you.

Because you followed her
and made her life a misery,

she now lies
under grave suspicion

of murdering the husband
she loved.

The least you can do
is to clear her of that.

I guess the very best case
I can make for myself now

is to tell you
the absolute, naked truth.

It is my duty to warn you

that it will be
used against you.

I guess you probably know

that Elsie's father's the most
powerful man in Chicago.

One of the most powerful
criminal men in Chicago.

It was he who invented
the dancing men.

We used it as a code
in the old days.

I've known Elsie
since she was a child.

She was promised to me.

I may have threatened her,

but I wouldn't have touched
a hair on her pretty head.

But you're right, she hated
the whole Chicago business.

That's why she ran away
to Europe.

It was only after her marriage
to this Englishman

that I was able
to find out where she was.

I wrote to her,
but I got no answer.

She burned your letter.

She was happy in her
new life in Darbyshire.

I came here to England
to take her home!

I sent her notes.

I did everything I could
to coax Elsie away,

then my temper got the better of
me and I began to threaten her.

But yesterday
she sent me a letter!

She said she would come down
when her husband was asleep

and speak to me
through the end window

if I would go away afterwards
and leave her in peace.

Can I make you see?

I've never been so happy
as I've been here with him.

I love him.

Abe, I wanna stay,
and I'm going to stay.

What about your
friends in Chicago?

What about your family?!

Friends do you call them;

killers, robbers,
extortionists, some family.

But you and I
were engaged!

I'm sorry, Abe,
my father forced me into it.

How could I be happy
with you in that life?!

Please go away,
please, I beg you.

You beg me?!

Yes.

Hilton is
such a good man.

It would break my heart
if scandal ever touched him.

Here's money,

it's all that I have.

Now, please go away.

No!

You're coming home!

No!

You're coming home!

No!

What the--

No!!

I think we've heard enough
for the moment, come along.

Can't I see her before I go?

Nobody can see her,

even we have not
been given that privilege.

Mr. Holmes,

I hope that if ever again
I have an important case,

I shall have the good fortune
to have you by my side.

Good afternoon,
and thank you.

Holmes?

Hmm.

What did you write
in that note?

See if you could read it.

"COME-HERE-AT-ONCE,"

"COME HERE AT ONCE."

How absurdly simple.

And so the dancing men,

which had so often been
the agents of evil,

were finally used
on the side of justice.

Abe Slaney was condemned
to death at the Darby assizes,

but his sentence was
changed to penal servitude

in consideration of
mitigating circumstances

in the certainty that Hilton
Cubitt had fired the first shot.

Mrs. Cubitt made
a complete recovery,

and lives still
at Ridling Thorpe Manor.