Original subtitles

Anything remarkable on hand, Lestrade?

No.

Nothing in particular.

Then tell us about it.

Now you've come to mention it, Mr. Holmes.

There's no denying there is something on my mind.

It first came to my notice four days ago.

A certain Morse Hudson has a shop for the sale of pictures and statues

in Kennington Road.

But what happened last night was more serious and also more singular.

Burglary.

Exactly.

A house of a Doctor Barnicot was broken into.

Now this bust was one of a pair purchased from Morse Hudson

by Doctor Barnicot.

He had put it in his house.

The other, he put two miles away in his surgery.

Later that same night.

This is certainly very novel.

Yes, I thought it would please you.

Though in my opinion, it comes more into Doctor Watson's line than ours.

Disease?

I should say madness.

Queer sort of madness, too.

You wouldn't think there was anybody living-

nowadays, would you, have such a hatred for Napoleon Bonaparte.

Actually there are no limits to the possibilities of monomania.

You see, there is the condition

that the modern French psychologists have called an "idee fixe".

If someone became obsessed with, say-

many injustice committed to an ancestor during the Napoleonic wars,

he might form an "idee fixe" and under its influence.

He might be capable of any fantastic outrage.

My dear Watson, that won't do.

How do you explain it then?

I don't attempt to do so.

My winning.

I would simply observe-

that there's a certain method in this gentleman's eccentric madness.

I mean, for example, in Dr. Barnicot's house,

where a sound might have aroused the sleeping family,

the bust was taken outside before being broken,

whereas in his surgery, where there was less danger of alarm,

it was smashed where he stood.

I only mentioned it because you usually have a taste

for all that is out of the common, no matter how trivial.

No, I dare call nothing trivial, Lestrade.

Some of my most classic cases have had the least promising commencement.

Yeah, that dreadful business of the Abernetty family.

I hardly call the dismemberment of an entire family trivial.

Well Watson, would you be so kind as to explain?

What?

Well the point is that it only came to Holmes' notice,

because the depths which the parsley had sunk into the butter on a hot day.

So you see I cannot afford to smile at your three busts, Lestrade.

However, I would be obliged if you would keep me informed

as to developments.

Listen to this Holmes, "Come Instantly, 1-3-1 Pitt Street, Kensington, Lestrade."

What's it about?

Well it could be anything but I suspect it's a sequel to his story of last night.

You know, my "idee fixe". Finish your coffee.

There's a cab at the door.

Two minutes.

It's attempted murder at least.

Nothing less will hold the London message boy.

There's a deed of violence in that young fellow's round shoulders

and out-stretched neck.

Well, Lestrade will soon tell us.

Look at this, Watson.

The bottom steps swilled down and the others dry.

Footstep's enough, anyhow. Yes, but whose?

It's the Napoleon bust business again, gentlemen.

They smashed another?

I'm afraid the affair has taken a graver turn.

This way.

Mr. Harker, allow me to present, Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.

Mr. Horace Harker, of the Central Press Syndicate.

Good of you to come, gentlemen.

Please forgive my agitation.

No apology necessary, Mr. Harker.

A body on one's front doorstep is always unsettling.

You've told him, then?

Not a word.

Now, tell us exactly what occurred.

It's an extraordinary thing.

All my life, I've been collecting other people's news,

and now I have a real life story of my own,

and I can't put two words together.

If I had been a journalist and walked in through that door,

I would have interviewed myself

and had two columns in every London newspaper.

And here I am giving away valuable copy by telling my story

over and over again to a string of different people.

However, I've heard of your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

So if you could explain this queer business

I'd be more than paid for my trouble in telling you my story.

A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night in my den,

in that room adjacent to this one.

At some time, in the small hours of this morning.

I shall live that moment over and over again in my dreams.

Do we know who the murdered man was?

Not yet. But you can see the body at the mortuary, if you wish.

Where did you purchase your bust, Mr. Harker?

From Mr. Hudson of Kennington Road.

Do we know what became of it?

The officer at the door tells me it's been found in the front garden

of an empty house on Campden House Road.

I was just going round to see it. Will you come?

In a moment, Lestrade.

Well, the intruder either had very long legs or was a most active man,

with that area beneath, it was no mean feat to climb up to this ledge

let alone, to open the window.

Mr. Harker, will you come with us to see the remains of your bust?

I must make something of it,

although I have no doubt that every newspaper in London

will be on the streets with a full and detailed account.

Just my luck.

Do you remember when the stand fell down at the Doncaster Races?

I was the only journalist in that stand, and my journal was the only one

that didn't have a published account because I was too shaken to write a word.

Now, I should be too late with a murder on my own doorstep.

Well?

We have a long way to go but there is one suggestive fact.

He didn't smash this in the house or immediately outside it.

Well, perhaps he was so rattled and bustled

by meeting this other fellow that he hardly knew what he was doing.

That's likely enough.

But why did he choose to destroy it outside this particular house?

It's empty. So he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

Yes, but there's another empty house

further up the street he must have passed.

Why not destroy it there?

The lamp.

By Jove, you're right.

What are we to make of that?

Holmes?

Remember it., docket it.

We may come on something later, which will bear upon it.

Meanwhile, before we go our separate ways,

I suggest we make one last concerted visit.

Where to?

The morgue.

They made nothing of his identity up to now.

He was poorly dressed but doesn't seem to have been a laborer.

Whoever's responsible did a nasty job on the fellow's throat.

Oh, that was the murder weapon, had a serrated blade.

But whether it belonged to the murderer or the dead man we don't yet know.

Anything in his pockets to help identify him?

Precious little.

If it might interest you, Mr. Holmes.

Forgive me, Lestrade, I was just contemplating

the one mystery that not even I can solve.

Death itself. Pray continue.

As you can see, he carried very little.

An apple, some string, a shilling map of London,

and a photograph.

Or a part of one- it's torn.

Look.

Ugly looking devil,

positively Simian.

What steps do you propose next, Lestrade?

Well, the most practical way of getting at it,

in my opinion, is to identify the dead man.

Once we know who he is and who his associates are,

we should have a good start in learning

who killed him on the doorstep of Mr. Horace Harker.

Don't you think so, Mr. Holmes?

No doubt. It is not the way that I would conduct the case.

Oh what would you do?

Oh, don't let me influence you, Lestrade.

I suggest that you follow your line of inquiry, and I, mine.

And we can compare notes, and each supplement the other.

But if you are returning to Pitt Street,

I would be grateful if you would tell Mr. Harker

that I have quite made up my mind

in this matter.

And so there was a dangerous and homicidal lunatic

with Napoleonic delusions at his house last night.

It will help him in his article.

You don't seriously believe that, Holmes?

Don't I? Well, perhaps not.

I'm sure it will please Mr. Horace Harker

and the subscribers to the Central Press Agency.

I would be grateful, Lestrade,

if you could make it convenient to come around to Baker Street

at six o'clock this evening.

Until then, I would like to keep this photograph-

found in the dead man's pocket.

Oh, Mr. Holmes that might be a vital clue.

I trust it is, otherwise it's of no interest to me.

Good luck, Lestrade.

What we pay our taxes for, I don't know,

when any ruffian can walk in and break one's goods under one's nose.

A superb bit of craftsmanship it was, too,

taken from a marble copy of the Emperor's head by Devins.

Are you familiar, by any chance, with that great artists oeuvre.

Yes, indeed. Speaking of familiarly,

do you recognize the man in this photograph?

Man in the photograph? Yes, indeed, I do, Mr. Holmes.

The name's Beppo.

Beppo?

Yes, he was a sort of Italian piecework man,

who made himself useful here in the shop.

Oh, he could carve a bit, and frame, and guild.

I took him on about ten days ago,

but he only stayed a week and then just disappeared.

Didn't even collect his wages.

Perhaps he was responsible for the breakages.

Responsible for the breakages? Huh, responsible for the breakages?

My dear sir, this is an international conspiracy.

A Nihilist plot. Red Republicans, I call them.

Yes. No one but an Anarchist would go about breaking statues.

Did they break every one that you sold?

Break every one I sold? Well, hardly that.

Just the two bought by a local doctor and the one left here in my shop.

If anything happened to the other three, I know nothing of it.

Three? So there was six to begin with?

Six to begin with? Yes, yes. A batch of six.

I ordered them especially from Gelder & Company of Stepney.

They do excellent molding work.

Do you happen to know the names and addresses of the other customers?

My ledgers, Mr. Holmes, are confidential.

Mr. Hudson,

if your theory's correct, ought we to warn these people of this,

this most dangerous plot?

And who better to do that than Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Yes, quite right. Quite right, sir

Yes, the country slumbers but we shall remain vigilant.

Follow me, sir.

Here we are. Mr. Josiah Brown of Chiswick,

and Mrs. Sandeford of Reading.

Mrs?

Mr. Hudson.

Did your two busts differ in anyway from the other four?

Differ from the other four? No, no. They were all identical

and all with a beautiful decoration, which I ordered especially.

Apart from the decoration, were your six busts the same as all the others?

The same as all the others? Well, I suppose so.

But you'd have to apply direct to Gelder & Company to find that out,

In person.

Excellent idea.

Gentlemen? Gentlemen? When you meet the manager

would you be good enough to warn him of the conspiracy?

With all the busts they have on the premises,

the Red Republicans could have a field day.

Normally we sell the bust without decoration,

but Mr. Hudson ordered that the whole uniform be painted.

It was extra detail and made it a very special, it's sure.

In times of the construction, however, there is no reason

why the six Napoleons we sold to him

should be different from hundreds of others.

You see, the two molds are put together and filled with plaster

to make the complete bust.

Are they solid?

Solid? Yes, of course. Naturally.

Then, they are placed in a special room to dry and afterwards stored.

Their wholesale price is six shillings but we would get twelve or more.

I can think of no reason that someone should wish to destroy them.

Or murder for them.

Murder?

So,

your interest in the molding process had ulterior motives?

Herr Mendelstam, I wonder if you happen to recognize the man in this photograph?

The rascal.

Yes, indeed. I know him very well.

This has always been a respectable establishment

and the only time we ever had the police in here was over this fellow.

About a year ago, he knifed another Italian in the street

and ran in here with the police on his heels.

Was his name Beppo, by any chance?

Beppo? Yes!

His second name, I never knew.

Served me right for employing a man with such a face.

But he was a good workman, one of the best.

Do you happen to remember exactly when he was arrested?

I could check the pay list.

According to Morse Hudson's records,

you sold him six Napoleon's on June the third of last year.

Now, let me see. That is correct.

And Beppo, last collected his wages on May the twentieth of that same year.

Then he must have been arrested sometime the following week.

Well, no doubt the police have the exact details.

The young Italian survived, so Beppo only went to prison for one year.

We have a cousin of his work in here.

Perhaps you would wish to speak with him?

No.

Not a word to the cousin, I beg of you. The matter is very important.

And the further I go with it the more important it seems.

Ah so, yeah, I merely thought his cousin might know when Beppo is to be released.

Mendelstam,

if my surmises are correct,

our friend Beppo has been out of jail for at least eleven days.

Hey, Watson.

Harker has baited the traps.

What do you mean?

The press is a very valuable institution if one knows how to use it.

Read all about it.

Very cunning, Holmes.

Thank you, Watson.

Lestrade!

Mr. Holmes. Doctor.

Please sit down.

Thank you.

Well, uh...

What luck, Mr. Holmes?

We've had a very busy day. Not entirely wasted.

I can trace each of the busts now from the beginning.

The busts!

Well of course, you have your own methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Not for me to say a word against them,

but I think I've done a better day's work than you.

I've identified the dead man.

Splendid! Who is it?

Pietro Venucci, son of a respectable Italian tradesman

and involved with a secret political society.

Red Anarchist?

Oh you've been talking to Morse Hudson, haven't you?

Do go on, Lestrade.

I refer, of course, to the Mafia,

which, as you may know, enforces its decrees by assassination.

Obviously our murderer broke the rules in some fashion

and Pietro is put on his track.

Possibly with that photograph to aid identification,

they meet but Pietro receives his own death wound in the scuffle.

Excellent, Lestrade, but I don't-

quite follow your explanation of the destruction of the busts.

Oh, the busts!

You can never get those busts out of your head. The busts are nothing.

Petty larceny, six months at most. No, no, no.

It's murder we're really investigating.

And I tell you,

I'm gathering all the threads into my hand.

And the next stage?

Awe well now,

we have an inspector who's made a specialty out of the Italian quarter.

I shall go down there with him, find the man in that photograph you're carrying,

arrest him for murder.

What do you say, Mr. Holmes?

Will you come with us?

I think not.

I fancy Chiswick as the address most likely to find him.

Chiswick?

If you and some of your men will come with us to Chiswick tonight,

I will go to the Italian quarter with you tomorrow

and there will be no harm in the delay.

I suggest you dine with us, and then you're welcome to the sofa.

A few hours sleep will do us all good.

I don't intend to leave the house before eleven.

It is unlikely that we shall be home before morning.

But Mr. Holmes...

In the meantime,

I have a letter to send by Express Messenger.

Mrs. Hudson? Mrs. Hudson?

Chiswick?

Eleven o'clock! Gentlemen, on your feet.

Come along, Lestrade.

Watson, I think you've been overgenerous with the port.

You've been frugal enough with your information.

Ah that will be our four-wheeler.

Don't forget the revolver, Watson, and bring the rugs.

This outing wouldn't be inspired by your "id fixe", would it?

"Idee fixe".

Yes. The plaster bust.

I have great hopes, Lestrade.

In fact, I bet it's exactly two-to-one that if you come with us tonight

you'll have the murderer in custody before the sun rises.

I'm not a betting man, Mr. Holmes.

Then you have nothing to lose by it, do you?

Except a good nights' sleep.

Watson, if you've caught a cold it's your fault.

You left the rugs behind.

Sorry, Holmes.

Is that two o'clock?

I don't suppose we can smoke, can we?

Nope.

Thought as much.

Are your men in position?

Oh, yes.

Have a humbug, Lestrade?

Watson,

this is no time for humbugs.

Look!

Is that who you expected?

His name's Beppo.

Good name for a monkey.

He'll leave by the back door.

How do you know that?

Because all the other doors are locked.

Oh dear, it's smashed.

Mr. Josiah Brown, I presume?

Yes, sir. And you, no doubt, are Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

I had the note you sent by the express messenger

and I did exactly as you told me.

Following your instructions, we locked every door,

so as to lead him into the back.

And I'm very glad to see you have the rascal.

Now I hope, gentlemen, you will come and partake in some refreshment.

Thank you, Mr. Brown. The hour is rather late.

Good night.

Oh, good night.

Come, Watson, we have work to do.

Work? What work?

Lestrade, if you will come around to Baker Street tonight at six o'clock

I hope to be able to show you that you still have not grasped

the full meaning of this business.

Oh, I think you'll find my theory of the Mafia

will work out all right, Mr. Holmes.

Good night, Lestrade.

Come along, now.

Baker Street, please.

And now, Watson,

I commend to you the universal answer to almost all the problems.

What's that, Holmes?

Sleep.

Good morning, Watson.

And since the manager of Gelder & Company

was mainly responsible for Beppo's initial arrest,

we see the breaking of the busts as a pathetic attempt to revenge himself.

And it was possibly the senseless acts of violence,

which transgressed the Mafia's code of behavior

and lead to the murder of young Venucci.

There, I think that takes care of those details you mentioned last night.

Don't you, Mr. Holmes?

Holmes!

Yes, Watson.

Well, what do you think of Lestrade's theories?

I'm sure that they are of the greatest interest but I regret to say

I've not listened to a word of them. Forgive my inattention, Lestrade,

I had a rather late night.

Look, what do you think I had?

Come in.

Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?

I fear I am a little late but the trains were very awkward.

No matter, no matter. Have you brought the item?

Oh, these are my friends and colleagues,

Doctor Watson and Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

You may speak freely in front of them.

Gentlemen, you said in your telegram that Mr. Hudson had given you my address.

Mr. Sandeford of Reading.

The same, sir. How do you do?

It's those busts again.

Correct, Lestrade.

Did he also tell you just how much my wife paid for it?

No, he did not.

Well sir, I am an honest man and not a very rich one,

and she only gave fifteen shillings for it and I think you ought to know that

before I take the ten pounds from you that you offered in your telegraph.

Oh your scruple does you much honor, Mr. Sandeford,

but I have stated my price and I shall stick to it.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes, that's very handsome of you. Your bust, sir.

You know my wife has always maintained,

there is a marked resemblance between myself and the Emperor.

I can't say I see it myself.

Sixth Napoleon.

I contacted Mrs. Sandeford by telegram this morning.

Now,

if you will sign this paper in front of witnesses,

it is simply to say that you transferred every possible rights

that you would ever have in the bust to me.

I'd be happy to, Mr. Holmes, happy, happy, happy.

I am and a methodical man one never knows

what turn of events my take afterwards. Here is your ten-pound note, sir.

Good evening, Mr. Sandeford.

Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes. It's good evening, gentlemen.

Okey. And it's very, very kind of you and thank you so much...

Now gentlemen, if you will give me your undivided attention.

Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to one of-

the most precious objects in the world.

The famous black pearl of the Borgias!

Bravo, Holmes, bravo!

Oh, your legerdemain rivals that Maskelyne himself?

This surpasses it.

The Borgias pearl's been missing since it disappeared

from the Prince of Colonna's bedroom in that Dacre Hotel,

over a year ago.

As you may remember, Lestrade, I was consulted upon the case at the time.

Observe and learn.

The moment the name Venucci surfaced to this case,

I immediately became intrigued.

The Princess of Colonna's maid, for some time, had been one,

Lucrezia Venucci. Suspicion fell on her.

And it was proved that she had a brother in London

but we failed to trace any connection between them.

Beppo was the connection.

He had been courting Lucrezia Venucci

for some time.

Where did you get that?

Papa Venucci.

Oh, I see.

When the Venucci family planned to steal the black pearl,

they used Beppo as a go between for Lucrezia and her brother.

Beppo gleaned enough information to execute the robber himself

and make off with the pearl.

Pietro Venucci, the brother,

caught up with him outside Gelder's workshop,

Beppo stabbed him he then fled into the warehouse

and took refuge in the drying room.

He knew he only had moments in which to conceal the pearl,

which would otherwise be found on him when he was searched.

Among all the plaster casts drying that day,

he made for the batch of six

that had been earmarked for Morse Hudson

and the base of one of them was still soft.

It was an admirable hiding place.

As soon as Beppo got out of prison,

he managed to find employment with Mr. Morse Hudson,

and set about tracking the six Napoleons down.

He found and destroyed three of them.

But the night he located Harker's,

Pietro Venucci, intent on vengeance, accosted him and this time

Beppo slit his throat.

With only two busts left, it was likely he would try the London one first.

Hence our visit to Chiswick.

Exactly, Watson.

That left only the Reading bust.

I bought it in your presence from the owner

and there it lies.

Well, Mr. Holmes.

I've seen you handle a good many cases in my time,

but I don't know that I ever knew a more workman-like one than this.

We're not jealous of you, you know, at Scotland Yard.

No, sir, we're proud of you.

If you come down tomorrow there's not a man from the oldest inspector

to the youngest constable

who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand.

Thank you.

Would you get down the Conk-Singleton forgery case, please Watson?

Goodbye, Lestrade.

And if any little problem comes your way,

I shall be happy, if I can, to give you a hint or two as to its solution.