All language subtitles for The.Adventures.of.Sherlock.Holmes.S03E02.The.Abbey.Grange.720p.BluRay.FLAC.2.0.x264-NTb_track3_[eng]

Far now?

Come, Watson,

come.

The game is a foot.

Get your clothes and come.

Well I think we have
thawed sufficiently, Holmes.

Splendid.

Abbey Grange, Marsham, Kent, 3:30 a.m.

"My Dear Mr. Holmes,"

"I should be very glad of
your immediate assistance"

"in what promises to be
a most remarkable case."

"There's something quite in your line."

"Except for releasing the lady,"

"I will see that everything is kept
exactly as I have found it"

"but I beg you not to lose an instant,"

"as it is difficult
to leave Sir Eustace there."

"Yours faithfully.
Stanley Hopkins."

Inspector Hopkins.
He's called you in seven times,

on each occasion his summons
has been entirely justified.

I fancy that every one of his cases
has found its way into your collection,

I must admit, Watson,
you do have some power of selection.

Thank you.

Which atones for much of which
I deplore about your narratives.

Your fatal habit of looking at everything
from the point of view of a story

instead of as a scientific exercise
has ruined

what might have been an
instructive and even classical

series of demonstrations.

Why did you not write them yourself?

I will, my dear Watson, I will,
in my declining years.

So our present research
appears to be one of murder.

Does it?

E. B. Monogram, coat-of-arm, .

An address which harks back
to the dissolution of the monasteries.

We're moving in the high-life...

Brackenstall.

Sir Eustace Brackenstall.

You've heard of him?

He was quoted in the
Chronicle the other day

as being one of the
richest men in Kent.

Watson, you are a
treasury of knowledge.

And you think him dead?

I think him murdered, Watson.

Hopkins is not an emotional man.

The writing shows a certain agitation.

It is surely urgent.

You think the body left there
for our own inspection?

I think that we shall find
the Brackenstall line is now extinct.

Very good of you to come, Mr. Holmes.

And you, Doctor.

Inspector.

I, I hope you forgive me, Mr. Holmes.

Forgive what, Hopkins?

I should not have troubled you, sir.

But since the lady
has come to herself,

she has given me so clear
an account of the affair that-

well there's not much left for us to do.

You remember the Lewisham gang?

You mean the three Randalls?

Exactly sir, the father and two sons.
It's their work, not a doubt.

But they did a job at
Sydenham a fortnight ago.

They did. They were
seen and described.

Well it's cool of them, I agree, to do
another so soon and so near,

but it is they-
and a hanging matter this time.

Brackenstall is dead, then?

Awe yes, Doctor.

In the dining room, his head was
knocked in with his own poker.

And the lady?

Have they been in the dining room yet?

Not yet, my lady.

I shall be glad when
you can arrange matters.

What is that?

You have other injuries, Madam.

It's nothing. It has no connection
with this hideous business.

Please sit down.

I think it would be best to
inform you of something, gentlemen,

regarding Sir Eustace.

You'll no doubt hear a
rumor of it otherwise

from idol tongues who'll
distort the truth of it.

It would pain me to think of
his memory tarnished in that way.

Sir Eustace drank, I'm afraid.

Not regularly, and consistently.
Not in a way to hurt our marriage.

Nor did it interfere with the
exercise of his public duties.

Nevertheless, the vice was
a private shame to him.

He was very sensible of my dislike of it.

When he felt the obsession
too keenly, he took himself off

until the poison had exhausted him.

It distressed me of course
that it should happen

but he was proud and sensitive enough
never to allow me to witness it.

I felt deep gratitude for that

and not a little pity.

Can you understand that gentlemen?

I have never heard a like case talked of
with such illuminating compassion, Madam.

I must, however, ask you
to believe something further.

I was in some measure grateful
for this vice of my husband's.

How could that be?

I spent most of my life
in South Australia,

in the wine growing country
near Adelaide.

As a very young woman
I lived alone with my father.

My mother was dead.

If I had a mother,
it was my loyal Theresa.

It was a very free life.

I found it extremely difficult to
adapt to the proprieties of England

being mistress of
such a place as this.

So I felt if I were to
show a decent understanding

of my husband's weakness,

he would, in turn, forgive me
for my unsuitable behavior.

And so it proved.

I see.

I'll tell you about last night.
Eustace retired about half-past ten.

The servants had already
gone to their quarters.

Which are where?

In the East Wing.

Only my husband, Theresa and myself
sleep in the central block.

The servants would have heard nothing.

Had you retired by then?

I was in my room.

I never retire until
I've seen madam to bed.

Thank you.

I sat up-

in this room, in fact.

It is my custom to walk around
to see that the house is secure

because for obvious reasons,
Sir Eustace is-

not always to be relied
upon in that respect.

I went into the gun-room,

the kitchen,

the butler's pantry,

the billiard-room,

the drawing-room,

and finally the dining-room
where the curtains were drawn.

It's difficult to tell you
much of what happened next.

I took a step towards the curtain

and I found myself
face-to-face with an intruder.

A big man, quite elderly.

For a moment we just
stared at each other.

Then two other men came in
behind him and he came for me.

I must have been unconscious
for some minutes.

It was then that my unfortunate
husband entered the room.

They dealt with him as you shall see.

I believe I fainted again,
I'm not sure.

The exact events are difficult...

I drifted in and out of
consciousness, you understand?

I do know that they cleared
the room of its silver

and they must have drawn
themselves a bottle of port,

some of which I saw them drink.

The man who struck me was
elderly with a beard.

The others younger, smooth faced.

Yes.

Finally they checked that
I was securely bound

and left taking the silver with them.

How was the alarm raised?

Madam had not come upstairs.

Early she said she
would follow me shortly

so at midnight I went down in case
she had fallen asleep over her book.

A thing I hate to do.

And there I found her,
poor lamb, just as she says

and him on the floor, his blood
and brains all over the room.

Enough to drive a woman
out of her wits.

And her gagged and bound and
her very dress spotted with him.

She never wanted courage,
did Miss Mary Fraser of Adelaide,

and Lady Brackenstall of Abbey
Grange has learned new ways.

You've questioned her
long enough, gentlemen.

When did the lady and the maid
come from Australia?

About eighteen months ago, sir.

Her father sent her
to get her experience of Europe.

That is, to find a husband?

Poor woman. It must have
seemed the brilliant match.

It's a mess, sir.

Constable.

A mess indeed.

They've touched nothing, sir.

What do you make of it, Doctor?

Should I?

Please proceed, my dear fellow.

It's a blow of savage ferocity.

A single blow?

I believe so.

It is a straightforward
enough wound, you see.

It begins, thus, below the ear

and then crosses both spheres of
the parietal bone at such an angle.

That this side is smashed
as far as the coronal suture.

I've never seen anything like it.

A powerful man, this elder Randall.

Half his trade is violence, sir.

He certainly left his trademark.

What beats me is how Randall
could do so mad a thing,

knowing that the lady
could describe them,

and that we could not fail
to recognize the description.

The criminal mind has its quirks
of conscience and scruples.

In that respect, it is as
individual and curious as any other.

A noted miser, Lady,
secretly charitable

so this violent Randall may draw the line
at the murder of an unconscious woman.

Or he may well believe that
she did not see him.

Well how is that, sir?

She testifies that they
stared at each other.

Yes, but it was she who held the light.

What Randall may have seen was
mostly flickering candle flame.

The face behind it, a distorted mask.

He may be not imaginative enough

to have thought that she
saw anymore than he did.

He knocked her unconscious at the
next instance, thus for his purposes-

solving his problem. Watson,

may I impose upon you to
search the Turkey rug?

What for Holmes?

Candle wax, Watson, candle wax.

Now this bell presents a mystery,
does it not, Inspector?

When this was pulled down

the bell in the kitchen
must have rung loudly.

No one would hear it the way
the kitchen is placed.

How did the burglar know that?

Exactly, Mr. Holmes, exactly. For
the very question I've put myself.

Now either he has known the house

or he may have dealings
with one of the servants.

One of my men is going
over the record of service

at the Grange with the butler,
at this very moment, sir.

Inspector, you seem to have
thought of everything.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Holmes.

What is it, Watson?

There.

A scattering of wax
and a very light scorching.

Invisible but leaving it's
characteristic scent.

The lady would have fallen here.

Randall would have snatched up
the candelabra immediately.

I suppose that is where
they took their refreshment.

To steady their nerves,
yes. Port wine, sir.

Did Lady Brackenstall say that
the butler's corkscrew was used?

No, sir. She was senseless
at the moment the bottle was opened

Quite so.

It was opened with a pocket screw,
probably contained in a knife.

If you examine the top of the cork
you will observe

that the screw was driven in three times
before the cork was extracted.

This long screw would have transfixed
it and drawn it with a single pull.

When you catch this fellow,
it is likely that you will find

that he has a multiplex
knife in his possession.

Excellent, Mr. Holmes.

These three glasses

do puzzle me, I must confess.

Did Lady Brackenstall say that she
actually saw the three men drinking?

Awe yes,
she was clear about that, sir.

Well then, there is an end of it.
What more is to be said?

Perhaps, Inspector, when
a man has special powers

and special knowledge,
like Sherlock Holmes,

it rather encourages him
to seek a complex explanation

when a simpler one is at hand.

You let us know when
Randall is arrested.

Poor Holmes, you must
feel like an abstruse,

and learned specialist calling
for a case of measles.

Annoying.

We must return.

Three glasses.

Watson, we have been dazzled out of
observation by that lady's beauty,

beauty may be truth but she
does not necessarily speak it.

There was port in each glass but
there was only crusting in one glass.

Last glass filled is the one most
likely to contain the crusting.

I agree. If the last pouring had
approached the bottom of the bottle

but the bottle was half full
and it had been agitated.

The crusting was present
throughout the port.

Well what, then, do you suppose?

That only two glasses were used

and the dregs of both
were poured into a third

so as to give us the false impression
that three people were there.

I understand.

If I'm right, Watson, then in an instant

this case rises from the common place
to the exceeding and remarkable.

That will be the Kentish train.

That will.

How on earth did you hear it?

I heard nothing, Watson,
I observed.

Salutary thought after
such a misspent morning.

Lady Brackenstall and her maid

must have some very good reason
for shielding the real criminal.

Well, Watson,

we shall just have to construct our
case for ourselves without them.

The Abbey Grange as fast as you can.

Watson.

Well it appears that Inspector Hopkins
has gone to report to headquarters.

Splendid, then
we can take possession.

How many frustrated episodes

for the laboring men here
could one reconstruct

from this mechanical cemetery?

What's this?

Watson.

Not entirely mechanical, it seems.

Fudge.

I imagine it's a pet's gravestone.

It has been smashed.

Mended and smashed again
with deliberate force.

The story it tells is
of the immediate past.

Watson.

The remnants of a dog's collar.

Fudge.

Hey, you.

Has any servant been dismissed
from the house in the last month?

No, sir.

Then it's as I thought.

Fudge.

Lady Brackenstall's pet dog,
let us imagine, dies.

It may not be too fanciful to suggest

that the poor unfortunate
creature was literally killed.

Killed? For what reason?

Reason I suggest hardly entered into it.
It was done in a fit of insane rage.

By whom?

By a drunkard, sadistic ruffian.

One of the murderers?

No, Watson.

The lady's husband.

The last of the Brackenstall's.

Brackenstall.

Consider it. No one but
a member of the household

could vandalize a gravestone
and it remain in place.

Why should Brackenstall entertain
such an obsession about a pet animal

that he would forbid
any remembrance of it?

You saw the marks of
course on the lady's arm.

Yes I was surprised that they
did not interest you more.

They were stab wounds made
by a long needle or a hatpin.

This lady has been living in fear

of her physical safety, Watson.

Take care, Holmes.

Watson, we have our case.

How nearly have I made the
blunder of a lifetime.

But now the chain is almost complete.

You got your men?

Man, Watson, man.

Only one,
but a remarkable person.

Strong as a lion,
active as a squirrel,

dexterous with his fingers and finally,

remarkably quick-witted.

Awe, Lady Brackenstall.

I do not wish to cause you
any unnecessary trouble.

My one desire is to
make things easier for you.

I am convinced that you
are a much-tried woman.

If you will trust me
and treat me as a friend

you may find that
I will justify that trust.

What do you want me to do?

To tell me the truth.

Mr. Holmes!

No, no, no, no, please,
Lady Brackenstall,

it is of no use.

You may have heard of a little
reputation that I may possess,

I will stake it all on the fact that
your story is a complete fabrication.

You're an impudent fellow.

You try to say that my
mistress has told a lie?

Have you nothing to tell me?

I have told you everything.

Now think just once more,
Lady Brackenstall.

Wouldn't it be better to be frank?

I have told you all I know.

I am sorry.

The bell rope gave us the clue,
which should have left us in no doubt.

How is that?

If you were to pull down
a bell rope, Watson,

where would you expect it to break?

Surely at the top
where it is attached to the wire.

Not three inches from the top.

But the rope was frayed.

The rope, which bound Lady
Brackenstall, was frayed.

He was cunning enough to
do that with his knife.

But the other end was not.

If you had stood on
the mantelpiece as I did

you would have seen
that it was cut through.

Stop. Please, driver.

Watson.

That log has not moved
since early this morning.

Well perhaps it's snagged on something.

Or anchored.

See that Inspector Hopkins
gets this on his return, will you?

Chiselhurst Station.

Where to, now, Holmes?

The shipping office of
the Southern Cross Line.

Yes, yes of course.

The Southern Cross Line is
the principal passenger carrier

between Adelaide and London.

Ah, I see.

In May of that year, only one
of ours reached the home port,

our flagship the "Rock of Gibraltar".
I'll have the passenger list sent up.

How on earth did
Mr. Holmes know that?

Ah, here we are. Miss Mary Fraser
of Adelaide, first class,

accompanied by her maid.

Where is the "Rock of Gibraltar" now?

I'll know today.

She was steaming west through
the Arabian Gulf, Mr. Holmes,

heading for Suez, I hope.

Is it your policy to transfer officers
much between ship and ship?

No, not at all.
It is our policy not to.

Awe, I have you, Mr. Holmes.

You are asking the whereabouts of
a member of the crew of the Rock

who has been seen very recently
but not on the ship.

Mr. Viviali, your
perspicacity astonishes me.

I assure you it is only through study

of the good doctor's masterly
exposition of your work

that I now have any
small capacity to reason.

Really? You amaze me.

Watson, are you taking notes?

Also, you will be pleased to hear
that I know exactly who the officer is.

Awe, excellent, Mrs. Burbage.

Excellent.

Yes, gentlemen, the only officer
From that voyage of the Rock

who is not aboard her now,
is Jack Croker, a magnificent chap.

Am I not correct, Mrs. Burbage?

Croker has a defect.
A delightful fellow.

Handsome as a prince.
The crew worship him.

And we've promoted him to captain
of our new vessel the Bass Rock,

No tea for me, please.

Which is just fitting out.

He's the youngest captain we have
but he'll be the best.

Not an officer in the fleet to touch him.

He is hot headed and excitable

but loyal, honest and kind-hearted.

Sometimes in this life you meet people
who are, what you might call-

large-souled,
who are a privilege to know.

Croker is one of those.

Once or twice in my career
I feel I've done more real harm

about my discovery of the criminal
than ever he had done by his crime.

But I've learned caution now,

and I'd rather play tricks

with the law of England
than with my own conscience.

Captain Croker, sit down.

I've got your telegram, and
I've come at the hour you said.

I heard you've been down to the office.

There's no getting
away from you, is there?

Speak up, man. You can't stand there
and play cat and mouse with me!

What do you know?

Give him a cigar, Watson.

Please.

Sit down.

Bite on that, Captain Croker,

and try not to let your
nerves run away with you.

I shall not sit here smoking with you
if I thought you were a common criminal.

Tell me what did you use

to secure the silver to the floating log?

My guess is fishing
gut from the gun-room

but I was not present at its recovery.
Am I right?

What do you want?

Justice.

For whom?

But we are not partisan.

We just want to see
justice done, that is all.

Very well.

Was it fishing gut?

No, twine.

It was a throw back to the days
before the master as a youngster.

Even now I always carry a
silver coin and length twine...

And a multiplex knife?

How in the devil do you know that?

Who are you?

Now, give me a true account of
everything

that happened at the
Abbey Grange last night.

Be frank with me and
we may do some good.

Play tricks with me, and I'll crush you.

I'll chance it.
But one thing I'll say first.

I regret nothing. I fear nothing

and I'd do it all again if I had to
and be proud of the job, damn the man!

Well that's my side of
things, only my side.

When I think of Mary,
sweet Mary Fraser,

I think of getting her
into this bloody business,

it's that, that turns my soul to water.

I met her when I was first
Officer on my last ship.

Air...

Oh I need air, Mr. Croker,
I've never danced so much in my life.

You dance as if you were
born to it, Miss Fraser.

Neither born nor bred,
I assure you, Mr. Croker.

Led to it, I think, by a
better dancer than I am.

She treated me as fairly
as ever a woman treated a man.

We were never engaged
I have no complaints.

But it was all love on my side

and all-good comradeship
and friendship on hers.

When we parted
she was a free woman,

but I could never again be a free man.

Next time I came back from the sea
I read of her marriage.

It seemed to be the sort of thing
she was made for. I didn't grieve.

I felt it to be right.

So I never thought to see her again.

At last voyage I was promoted, and
the new boat was not yet launched,

so I had to wait for a couple of
months with my people in Kent,

I knew now where she
was but stayed away.

Then I met Theresa Wright one day.

She told me all about her,
about the marriage,

about the man's drunken
cruelty, about everything.

Do you know this noble baron
had burnt her pet dog and

threatened as much to her?

I tell you gentlemen,

it nearly drove me mad.

I did meet Mary,

and I met her again.

At last, she would meet me no more.

I was then given notice that I was to
leave on my voyage within the week...

You're mad.

How could you come here?

I'm to go away, Mary.

I've been given a ship.

To go and not to say farewell

I thought I might never see you again.

You're going away?

I do not relish it.

You'll make a fine captain.

You must not let anything
spoil such an opportunity.

I feel for you.

You can do nothing.

However, that it is which
hurts most I think.

I believe I should have gone
mad these past few weeks.

If... Mary?

If it had not been for
the thought of you,

my friend.

Alright.

"Friend" will do, Mary.

It is a measure of my love for you.
It's so strong it will live on crumbs.

"Friend" will do.

Jack don't make me say it.

It won't make us any happier.

You know what I feel.

Do I?

You know you do.

Then I shall go a happier
man than when I came.

God bless you, sweet Mary Fraser.
That's enough for me.

You must not stay, Jack.

Take this for my sake.

At last I have you, Madam,
at your trade.

Here's a key to your damn modesty.

You have a profession, Madam.

A damn whore,
a gutter queen, a filthy jade.

Yes, sir. Come, sir.

Stand you there, sir! Over
the body of your bloody harlot!

She's all right,

Jack.

Oh, Jack.

Thank you, no, Captain.

Oh... oh, what happened?

I killed him.

Are you certain?

I know. I felt it.

Oh, dear God.
What are we going to do?

Listen to your old Theresa.

You're marked with a blow
that could have killed you,

that shall be your salvation.

Theresa was as cool as ice.
It was her plot as much as mine.

We must make it appear
the burglars had done the thing.

Theresa kept on repeating
our story to her mistress,

while I swarmed up and
cut the rope of the bell.

I then lashed her into a chair,

frayed out the end of the rope
to make it look natural.

The silver, well, you know about that.

I do, and the third glass of port
to tie in with the Randalls?

Yes. And we dropped the candlestick
by where Mary fell

for the wax would splash on her.

I never thought the police could
have seen through our dodge.

When I knew that savage fiend
was dead and

she was free of him, I reckon I done
the best night's work of my life.

I still do even if I swing for it.

That is the truth.

The whole truth, sir.

Dear God.

Yes. Yes you have told me the truth.

And if the lady's maid
had been less abstemious

and accepted your glass of port,

your ingenuity might have fooled me,
as you have certainly fooled the police.

Who put you onto me?
How on earth did you find me?

No one could have gone after that
bell rope but an acrobat or sailor,

No one but a sailor
could have made the knots

with which the cord was
fastened to the chair.

It was evident that the
lady was shielding someone

to do so under such circumstances
meant that she must love the person.

Was that too wild a
leap of the imagination

to connect her with an officer of a ship,
which brought her to this country?

Croker.

You're expecting a visitor.

I am?

My dearest, the gentleman knows
everything. There's no hiding from it.

I know.
His telegram brought me here.

What do you intend, Mr. Holmes?

Well, Captain Croker, this
is a very serious matter.

Yet I feel sure that on
the basis of the story,

which you have told us here tonight,

a British court of law will understand that
you acted in defense of your own life.

That, however,
is for the jury to decide.

Meanwhile,

I have so much sympathy for you
that if you choose to disappear

within the next 24 hours

I promise no one will hinder you.

Then it will all come out?

Certainly it will come out.

What sort of proposal is that?

Mary would be left to face the music.
Held as an accomplice maybe.

No sir, it will not do.

Jack, you must go.

I shall not.

Calm yourself, Captain.
I was only testing you.

Watson, this fellow
rings true every time.

It is a great responsibility
that I take upon myself

but we will do it in due form of law.

Croker, you are the prisoner.

Watson.

You are a British jury,

and I never met any man more
eminently fitted to represent one.

Now gentleman,

you have heard the evidence do you
find the prisoner guilty or not guilty.

Not guilty.

Vox populi, vox Dei. You are
acquitted, Captain Croker.

No. No, sir, it will not do.

Captain?

What if the police arrest some
other poor devil, what then?

Then I will use all my powers
to persuade them of their mistake.

If they light on you, then
that is another matter.

However, I think that is unlikely.

Come back to this
lady in a year's time,

and may her future and yours justify-

us in the judgment that we
have pronounced this night.

Oh, thank you.

Madam, I'm intrigued.

You gave such a compelling account
of the man's sad addiction to drink

and yet it was not as we now know
portrayed as your husband

but it was such a clear
description I wondered.

My father.

My poor father, Doctor.

He sent me away to England
because of it.

His self-management was the reason
I didn't fear the vice of my husband

because I knew of it
before we were married.

How foolish I was.

Thank you, Madam. I felt sure that
your story was true to reality.

Good luck to you.

It's almost as though you disapproved

of the happiness
we have fostered this day.

Oh no, I approve of that,
of course, I do.

I'm uneasy that you took upon
yourself the duties of advocate and judge.

You are too bound by forms, Watson.

Forms are society, Holmes.

Manners make the man, Holmes.

It's just as well you are unique.