All language subtitles for S04E03 Silver Blaze

It's no good.

I'm going to have to go.

Go? Go where?

Kingspiren!

Last evening, Inspector Gregory of the
Devonshire Constabulary arrested well

-known racing personality Fitzroy
Simpson and charged him with the murder

trainer John Straker.

Come in!

Two more telegrams, Mr. Holmes?

Thank you, Mrs. Hodgson.

You've been bombarded with these the
last couple of days.

Another one from Inspector Gregory.

And one from Colonel Roth.

Ah, that's the horse's owner.

Thank you, my dear.

Watson, I have made a blunder, which I
am afraid is a more common occurrence

than anyone would think, who only knew
me through your memoirs.

And the fact is that I could not believe
that so remarkable a horse as

Silverblaze could disappear, especially
in the seclusion of somewhere like...

The north of Dartmoor. From hour to hour
I'm expected to hear that the abductor

was the murder of John Straker and the
horse had been found, but that doesn't

seem to be the case. I could be happy to
go with you.

Now, tell us, Doc, if I should not be in
the way.

Oh, my dear Watson, you would confer a
great favour upon me by coming.

I'm sure your time will not be
misplanned. The case promises to be

unique.

We can just catch our trains at
Paddington. And Watson, would you be so

to bring your field glasses?

Tickets, please.

Thank you, Inspector.

Thank you.

Watson, we're going well.

Our speed at present is 53 .5 miles an
hour.

I've not observed the quarter -mile
post.

Nor have I.

But the telegraph posts on this line are
60 yards apart.

Calculation is a simple one.

Has that remarkably colored sporting
paper anything to say on the subject of

force?

Oh.

Yes. Yes.

Here we are.

Silver Blaze.

Silver Blaze is from Isonomy Stock.

Isonomy. And holds as brilliant a record
as his famous ancestor.

He's now in his fifth year and has
bought in turn each of the prizes of the

to Colonel Ross, his fortunate owner.

At the time of the catastrophe, he was
first favourite to the Wessex Cup.

The odds quoted being two to one
against.

He's always been a prime favorite of the
racing public and has never yet

disappointed them.

In spite of the unfavorable price, a
great deal of money has been placed upon

it. So it is obvious, therefore, that
there are many people with the strongest

interest in preventing Silver Blade from
being there at the fall of the flag.

please, because this is rather a good
view.

Now, that's King's Highland over there,
Mr. Holmes.

You know, my training stable where the
missing horse was kept.

What exactly does your establishment
consist of, Colonel Ross?

Well, there's a trainer's house where
poor Straker lived with his wife and a

maidservant. How long had he been with
you, sir?

Oh, five years as jockey until he got
too heavy for the weighing chair.

Then seven years as my trainer.

Yes, he was a first -class man.

And I presume the fables are beyond.

Yes, yes, not a big yard. It's a good
one.

My style is quality, not quantity.

As anyone connected with the turf will
tell you, Mr. Holmes. Yes, thank you,

Inspector. You see, at the moment, I've
only five horses in the yard.

I see you have two of them entered for
the Wessex Cup, Colonel Ross. That's

right, yes.

Silver Blaze and Bayard.

But between ourselves, Bayard is
intended for a pacemaker.

Well, with such valuable animal under
his charge, I imagine your trainer, Mr.

Straker, must have taken some
precautions.

Oh, yes, indeed.

Three stable lads live with the horses.

And after dark, one of the lads is
always on duty in the stables while the

two sleep above in the loft.

Is that another training stable over
there?

Yes, that's Mapleton.

That's Lord Backwater's yard.

Oh, Lord Backwater. Lord Backwater owns
Desborough, the second favorite for the

Wethers' Cup. This is not a bad horse.

Not in the same class as Silver Blaze.

A fellow called Silas Brown trains for
Backwater. I can't stick to the fellow

himself. Nor could Straker come to that.

It's a natural rivalry, I presume.

Rather more than that.

Shall we drive on? Yes.

All right, Baines.

Inspector Gregory.

Are there any further developments as to
the whereabouts of the horse?

Nothing at all.

We have made very little progress in
that direction.

I can't imagine how a horse like Silver
Blaze could go missing for so long in a

place like this. Nor can I.

I must tell you, Mr. Holmes, that at
first I was not at all taken with

Gregory's suggestion that you should be
asked to come down here.

Because I don't like amateurs, you see.

But you did send me a telegram, Colonel.

Well, no one else seems to be able to
find my horse.

If you ask me, it's these damned gypsies
wandering all over the moor.

It's a perfect scandal. I've said so for
years.

My men have seen every group of gypsies
on Dartmoor in the last two days,

Colonel.

And searched every stable yard, quarry
and cave in South Devon.

It's an absolute mystery.

I expect a miracle from you, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector Gregory, my friends at
Scotland Yard tell me that you're

making a reputation for yourself in the
English detective service.

I'm a keen student of your methods too,
Mr. Holmes.

I have the two principal which is
waiting for you. Thank you.

Who are they?

Edith Baxter, the maid, and Hunter, the
stable boy, who was on duty on Monday

night.

It was just a few minutes after nine o
'clock, sir.

I was carrying Mr. Hunter's supper
across from the house. But, Mr. Baxter,

did the supper consist of?

It was a dish of curried mutton, sir.

Suddenly I heard a man's voice.

Dinah, give me a turn. I can tell you,
sir.

Excuse me, miss.

What do you want, sir?

Can you tell me where I am?

I'd almost made up my mind to sleep on
the moor when I saw the light.

This is King's Pile and Training Stable,
sir.

What a stroke of luck.

I understand there's a stable lad.

Sleeps here at night.

No doubt that's his supper you have
there.

I'm sure you wouldn't be too proud to
earn yourself the price of a new dress,

would you?

See, the boy has this tonight.

And you shall have the prettiest frock
money can buy. I can.

Ned!

Ned!

Ned!

It's a man. Stop me out there.

I'm ever so frightened.

What do you want?

He asked after you.

He asked me to give you something.

What was it?

I don't know.

It was white.

Where is he now? He's gone.

We best cut back up the house, quick.
Tell the governor. Yes, ma 'am.

Good evening.

I want a word with you.

What business have you here?

It's a business that may put something
in your pocket, my lad.

Now, you've two horses entered in the
Wessex Cup.

Silverblaze and Bayard.

Let me have the straight tip and you
won't be the loser.

Is it the fact that at the weight,
Bayard can give the other 100 yards in

furlongs? We don't have any damn touch
around here.

The governor and the others came down
soon enough.

We found neither sight nor a sound of
the man. One moment.

When you let the dog out, did you leave
the door open behind you? Oh, excellent.

Excellent. Just the point I was getting
to make.

I locked the door behind me, sir. I
swear it. Good luck.

Does Fitzroy Simpson admit to all this?

He denies nothing.

He says he came for information.

What about the white paper?

He says it was a five -pound note.

What happened next?

Well, sir, it was about dawn when the
mistress came into my bedroom and told

to come with her.

Well, wouldn't she want? She'd found
Mrs. Drake's bed empty.

Heavens! The horse is gone.

And the bridle.

Ned! Wake up!

Wake the boys.

Ned!

He was dead, sir.

He's dead.

It's all knocked in.

It was the terrible blow on the head
from some blunt instrument that had

him.

It was clear that he had defended
himself most vigorously.

The blood -stained knife.

As to the wound on the thigh, who can
tell?

Well, it is possible that the wound on
the thigh could have been caused by the

strength of fowl. The lad here was
drugged.

Appreciable quantities of powdered opium
were found in his curry.

Did all the household eat the same dish?

Yes, sir.

I made it myself and served it.

This black and red scarf.

The gentleman was wearing that scarf
when he talked to me.

I'd swear that on the Bible, sir.

Thank you.

My theory is that Simpson was under some
strong obligation to nobble or

otherwise incapacitate this horse so
that he would be unable to run in the

Weflex Cup.

Clever move, that, putting opium in the
boy's food, and easy enough through that

window. Yes.

Then it was simple.

He'd obtained a duplicate key, led out
the horse.

It was his bad luck that Straker was
alert enough to catch him up on the

In the struggle, the horse bolted.

There's no proof that Simpson killed
Straker, is there?

The evidence against him is very strong.

He was undoubtedly here that night on
some devious business. He poisoned the

stable lad. He had in his hand a heavy
stick weighted with lead, and his scarf

was found in the dead man's hand.

And he went pale as death when I
confronted him with that fact.

I really think we have enough to go
before a jury.

No, no, no.

Inspector, that's how the council would
turn it all to rags.

Has a duplicate key been found in his
possession?

No. But what chemist sold him the
pounded opium? And above all, how could

stranger in this district, hide a horse?

I agree the evidence is circumstantial.

But I think the net is drawn pretty
tightly around Fitzroy Simpson.

And I believe he is our man.

What sort of a fellow is he?

Why would he do such a thing?

Fitzroy Simpson is a man of excellent
birth and dedication.

Unfortunately, he has squandered a
fortune on the turf, which has put him

hands of moneylenders and unscrupulous
bookmakers.

Plenty of those sharks in the racing
world. I don't know that you're a

man.

Occasional flutter?

I presume an inventory has been made of
what Strager had in his pockets at the

time of his death?

I have the things themselves in the
sitting room, if you would care to see

I think her London.

For the bloodstains, I presume this is
the knife that was found at the dead

man's craft.

Yes, indeed.

This is more in your line, Doctor.

Yes, it's what we call a cataract knife.

A very delicate blade devised for very
delicate work. Strange thing for a man

take on so rough an expedition, Holmes.

Especially as it wouldn't shut in his
pocket. The tip was guarded by a disc of

cork, which we found beside the body.
You impress me, Inspector. Thank you.

Mrs. Drager said it was on the dressing
table.

It was probably the nearest thing to
hand at the time. I see.

I see.

Corn letters, Bill.

Instructions for Colonel Ross.

And what have we here?

A millimetre count.

£37 .15 from a Madame de Zurier of Bond
Street, London.

To a Mr. William Derbyshire. Mrs. Drager
tells us that Derbyshire was a friend

of her husband's and occasionally had
his letters addressed here.

22 guineas.

Somewhat heavy for a single costume.

Mrs. Darwish had rather expensive taste.

Yes.

Well, there appears to be nothing more
to learn here, Inspector. Shall we move

on to the theme of the crime?

Yes, of course.

How do you look?

Have you got them, Inspector?

Is there any more news?

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Strager.

But Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson have come
down from London to help us.

They assure you we are doing everything
possible.

I wish you good luck, Mr. Holmes.

Well, thank you, madam.

And I commiserations on your great loss.

Look, surely we met at a garden party in
Plymouth some time ago.

No, sir.

You are mistaken.

No, do you know, I could have sworn it.

You're a costume of dove -coloured silk
with ostrich feather trimming.

I've never had such a dress, sir.

A quite fair visit, thank you.

That is the bush where the coat was
hanging.

What was the weather like? Oh, calm.

Bit of rain about.

And the coat was not blown against the
bush, but placed there? Yes, it was

placed there. Inspector.

No, no, no!

So many people have trampled around this
land.

There have been many people here.

That piece of matting has been placed
there, and we have all stood upon that.

Not the general public.

I have in this bag one of the boots John
Stryker wore.

One of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes.

And a cart horseshoe of silver blade.

Thank you, Inspector.

Burnt wax, best of.

Can't believe it.

I cannot understand how I came to
overlook them.

They were invisible, buried in the mud.

I only saw them because I was looking
for them.

What?

You expected to find them?

I thought it not unlikely.

I'm afraid there are no more tracks.

I've examined the ground for a hundred
yards in every direction.

What a pleasant evening.

I think I'll take a walk, switch my
legs.

Watson? Yes, indeed.

I'll take this, for luck.

I have some work to do in the house.
Then Colonel Ross is coming to take us

to Tavistock.

Suppose his silver blades broke away.

I mean, where would he have gone?

If he'd run loose on the moor, he'd have
surely been seen by now.

Perhaps the gypsy theory is correct.

No, no, no, no, no.

A horse is a most gregarious creature.

Now, he did not go back to King's
Pylons, to his own stable, so he must

gone to Melton.

Now, let us use that as a working
hypothesis.

The ground around here is very hard and
dry, but over there, in that hollow, it

must have been very wet on Monday night.

If our supposition is correct,

he must have crossed it.

Why, George, look at that.

You see, the value of imagination is the
one quality which Inspector Gregory

lacks.

We imagined what might have happened,
acted upon the supposition, and find

ourselves justified. Let us proceed.

And man turned.

Haven't you got eyes in your head?

I only wanted to ask you a question.

Should I be too early to see Mr. Silas
Brown if I was to call around here at 5

.30 tomorrow morning?

I shouldn't be speaking to you by rate.

Mr.

Brown's the early bird round here, all
right.

Darshan. What are you doing gossiping
with strangers?

Fear about your business.

Now, what the devil do you two want
round here?

Just a few minutes of your time, Mr.
Brown.

Be off with you or you'll find the dog
on your heels.

Why should I talk every gad about
stranger on the moor?

It may save you instant dismissal from
Lord Backwater's service

and a stiffish prison sentence.

Early Tuesday morning, you were about
the yard as usual, when you

saw a horse on the moor.

When you approached it, you realised
that it wasn't a strange horse at all,

one that you knew very well.

Your first instinct was to lead
Silver... Silver Blaze.

Back to Kingspireland. But then the
devil put other ideas into your head.

Here's a chance to make a great deal of
money.

It occurred to you that if you were to
hide, though...

You've been watching me,

haven't you?

You've been spying on me, sir.

What you want.

If it's money you want, you shall have
it.

You will do exactly as I tell you.

A more perfect compound of the bully,
coward, and sneak than Master Silas

I've seldom met with. He has the horse,
then? Of course.

But his stables have been searched.

An old faker like him knows many a
dodge.

Watson, I don't know whether you
observed, but Colonel Ross's manner to

been somewhat cavalier.

I'm inclined to have a little amusement
at his expense.

Say nothing to him about the horse. I
shall say nothing without your

Splendid.

We have found traces which show that a
party of gypsies encamped on Monday

within a mile of where the murder took
place.

Fitzroy Simpson may well have an
understanding with them over hiding the

Nevertheless, I think I owe it to the
public to remove Silver Blaze's name

the entrance for the cup. No, certainly
not. Colonel, I should let the name

stand. But I've already withdrawn by
art. But I have every hope that Silver

Blaze will start on Saturday. Have your
jockey in readiness.

I'm very glad to have your opinion, sir.

That is a minor point, of course,
compared with the question of who killed

Straker. Doubtless you will be devoting
yourself to that problem.

On the contrary, Dr Watson and I are
taking the night express to London.

We've had the most charming little
breath of your country air.

So you've despaired already of arresting
the murderer of poor John Straker?

There are certain grave difficulties.

Do you have a photograph of Straker?

Thank you, Inspector.

I am quite ready now for Tavistock.

Linger.

I must say I'm rather disappointed in
our London consultant.

I don't see that we're any further than
when he came.

At least you have his assurance,
Colonel, that your horse will run.

Oh, yes, I have his assurance.

I should prefer to have the horse. I
think you should heed Mr. Holmes'

Colonel.

Well, I shall have a seat.

Excuse me, who looks after these sheep?

I do, sir.

Have you noted something amiss for the
night?

No, sir.

Well, it's not much account, but three
of them have gone lame.

A long shot, Watson.

A very long shot. After you.

Inspector, I'd like to recommend to you
the singular epidemic among the sheep.

You rarely consider that to be
important.

Exceedingly so.

All right, Burns.

Is there any other point to which you
wish to draw my attention, Mr. Holmes?

To the curious incident of the dog in
the night.

But the dog did nothing in the night
time.

That is the curious incident.

Well,

the devil is my horse, Holmes. No, no,
no, no, no. Where's the devil, is he?

I suppose, Colonel, that you wouldn't
recognise him if you saw him.

No, my own horse.

I've been on the turf for 20 years and
I've never been on such a damn fool

question before.

Why, try it, Silver Blaze.

With a white star on his forehead and
mottled hind leg.

realize that if my horse doesn't run,
quite apart from being lynched by the

crowd, I shall be up before the
stewards.

Probably warned off every racecourse in
England for life. Reputation ruined.

Ah, let us hope it does not come to
that, if Dr. Watson.

And this, Colonel, is your horse.

That's not my horse, Holmes!

God, man, what have you done?

There, Colonel.

is your silver blaze.

I found him in the hands of a faker and
brought him to the course just as he

was.

Good heavens.

You take my breath away, Mr. Holmes.

You've done me a great service by
recovering my horse. You'd do me a

still if you could lay your hand on the
murderer of John Straker. I've done it,

sir.

What?

What's all this about if you've got him?
Where is he, then? He's here.

Here? Oh, well.

Somebody who's not present at this very
moment.

Yes, I quite recognise that I'm under
obligations to you, Mr Holmes, but this

either a very bad joke or an insult.

The real murderer, Colonel, is standing
immediately behind you.

But the horse... Yes, the horse.

And it may lessen his guilt if I say
that it was done entirely in self

And that John Strako was a man quite
unworthy.

Number four, third. Winner.

Come on, Rod.

Yes.

Yes, thank you, Dan.

Thank you very much.

Number 12.

Number 12.

And when we came down to Kings Park and
I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson was

the true culprit, all the newspaper and
police reports seemed to point to it.

It was only when I entered the trainer's
house that the immense significance of

the colored mutton occurred to me. I
confess that even now I cannot see how

happens.

Powdered opium, Colonel, is by no means
tasteful.

I am, correct?

Oh, quite correct. The, uh...

Flavour is not detectable, but it is
perceptible. Were it mixed with an

dish, the eater would undoubtedly detect
it, but would probably eat no more.

Curry was exactly the medium with which
to disguise the taste.

So it must have been Spraker or his
wife.

Exactly.

Because I remember you spoke of a dog.

The dog that didn't bark in the night.

Well, someone had been into the stable
and taken out the horse, and the dog had

not barked. So, obviously, this midnight
visitor was someone the dog be will.

I wasn't really convinced that it was
Draco. For what purpose should he take

the horse and drug his own stable?

To be honest, well, obviously, there
have been cases before now where

have made great sums of money by...

laying against their own horses and then
preventing them from winning.

Sometimes you get a pulling jockey, I
will say that.

Sometimes by shorter and more subtle
means.

This singular knife which was

found in the dead man's hand and which
no sane man would use as a weapon.

Doctor? Yes, only...

Only used in the most delicate
operations.

It was used for a very delicate
operation, that line.

Excuse me.

As you know, Colonel, with your wide
knowledge of turf matters,

that it is possible to make a slight
nick in the haughty attendant.

And do it subcutaneously.

Any slight lameness will be put down to
a strain in training or a bruise, never

foul play.

Villain and damned!

Not an operation to be done in the
stable. No food for me.

So sensitive a creature...

would arouse the soundest of sleepers.

I've been blind, and Gregory too.

Of course, that's why he needed the
candle and struck the match.

When I examined Straker's belongings, I
was fortunate to discover not only the

method of the crime, but also the
motive.

Most men do not carry other people's
bills in their pockets.

From this I concluded that Straker was
leading a double life.

The nature of the bill, It shows that
there was a woman in the case, and a

of expensive taste.

Liberal though you are with your
servants, I'm sure they're not able to

22 guinea walking dresses for their
ladies.

Mrs. Traker never had one by her own
admission.

When I visited Bond Street the other
morning, I showed Madame Lesvurier this

photograph of Straker.

She recognised him as an extremely good
customer called William Derbyshire.

He was a very dashing young wife with a
partiality for expensive dresses. Women.

Women!

I suppose it was she who plunged him
head over heels into debt and so led him

this miserable plot.

Straker led out Silver Blaze.

into the hollow, where his light would
not be visible from the yard.

Simpson, in his flight, had dropped his
scarf.

Straker picked it up, with the idea, no
doubt, that he might use it in securing

the horse's leg.

Straker was able to light his candle,
but just...

As he had the knife ready, the horse
lashed out and caught him a fatal blow

the forehead.

Why?

Why did the horse lash out so
thoroughly?

Frightened by the candle, the knife?

Well, animals have a strange instinct.

They seem to know when some mischief is
intended.

My final shot, I must confess, was a
long one.

It struck me that such an astute man as
Straker would not undertake this tendon

-nicking without a little practice.

Man!

Wonderful, my dear.

Now, you've explained all but one thing.

The horse. Now, where?

Well, I think we must have a little
amnesty in that direction, Colonel.

It bolted and was looked after by one of
your neighbours.

Gentlemen, I give you a toast to Silver
Blaze, coupled with the names of my

friends, to Sherlock Holmes and Dr.
Watson.

To Silver Blaze.