All language subtitles for Ep1 A Message From the Deep Sea

In late Victorian London
lived many detectives

who were the rivals
of Sherlock Holmes.

Subtitling made possible by
Acorn Media.

Come, gentlemen.

You have all inspected
the corpse.

What else is there worthy
of particular note?

Consider
the evident characteristics

of the dead man...

Youngish, personable,
smartly dressed,

something of a dandy
one suspects,

a lady's man with a good deal
of male vanity.

And yet there is one
outstanding characteristic.

Are you with me yet?

Return to your seats, gentlemen,

and brood on the fact
that you have failed to notice

that the middle
waistcoat buttons

are done up in the wrong holes.

Thank you, Dr. Jervis.

You may breathe again.

Thank you.

And now, you few, you happy few

who have survived to the end
of this course of lectures,

be so good as to prove
that you have learned something

by turning out your pockets
of those articles

which every eager student
of medical jurisprudence

should carry about his person.

No?

Must I begin all over again?

Pocketknife,

pocket thermometer,

magnifying lens,

scalpel,

forceps,

small box containing slides,

cover slips,

molding wax...

Dr. Thorndyke.

- Excuse me, sir.
- Hart.

Have you come back
for a refresher?

No, sir. I've just been sent for
to a case.

- Would you come with me, sir?
- Why?

It's just around the corner,
only five minutes away,

and it is my first.

Ah, Hart,
are you in practice here now?

No.
Assistant to the police surgeon.

He must be out.
They found me here.

I'd be terribly grateful
if you could.

Dr. Hart,
you are fully qualified.

It is a case of murder, sir.

Stop, thief!

Hey, you, boy!

Hey!

Get away! Go on, there! Go on!

Harrow Alley.

Do you remember Defoe's
description of this place

in his
"Journal of the Plague Year,"

dead cart waiting,
bell clanging?

You the police doctor?

I am.

She's upstairs. Come on, quick.

All right.

I never knew nothing had
happened till half an hour ago.

I swear I didn't.

I thought she'd gone to work,
like she always did.

And then I went out
in the backyard

and saw her blind was down.

I went upstairs
and knocked at her door.

She didn't give no answer.

I knocked again.
She still didn't answer.

So, I wondered if she'd got
something the matter with her.

And then I went in.

I wouldn't go in that room
again,

not if you paid me
all the money in the world.

Hart?

I'll be out here if you want me.

Thank you, Mrs...

Goldstein. Mrs. Goldstein.

Well, Hart,
what are you waiting for?

For you, Dr. Thorndyke.

I am here only to see that you
do credit to my teaching.

Good God!

Some infernal,
cowardly beast has done this.

He shall hang.

My God, he shall hang.

That's what we're here for,
Hart.

I'm sorry, sir,
but I could not help...

Restrain your emotion.
Get out your notebook

and take notes
in the manner I've taught you.

Yes, sir.

Jervis, you can be useful.

I want a plan of the room

with a detailed description
of everything in it.

Certainly, Dr. Thorndyke.
Anything else?

Not at the moment.

The key?

Get on with your work.

The foolish bloodhounds
will be here any minute,

trampling and rummaging.

Mrs. Goldstein.

I'm not going in there again.

Did she always lock her door
at night?

Yes.

Yes, I think so.
The key was always inside.

But it was unlocked
this morning.

Yes, I just opened the door
and went straight in.

And the street door...

Was that secure when you came
down this morning?

It was locked.

But not bolted.

We never bolt the door.

Some of the lodgers
comes in late sometimes.

I understand
exactly what you mean.

Well, whom are we going to hang?

She was stabbed in the neck.

Evidently.

With a knife.

We assume.

Very forcibly, by someone
with considerable strength.

Good point.

But someone of short stature.

On? Why?

The box over there
with the hassock on it.

The murderer could not reach her
from the side of the bed

and was not tall enough
to lean over the bedhead.

So he put those there
to stand on.

Yes, I see.

Thank you. What else?

Nothing else yet.

The pillow?

I beg your pardon, sir.

What do you make of this?

Sand.

Sand? Where?

Silver sand on the pillow.

What do you make of that,
revered sir?

We will consider the explanation
later.

Dr. Hart,
would you do me the kindness

of drawing back the bedclothes?

I should tell you...

One basin
full of bloodstained water.

Murderers commonly wash
their hands.

Sir, look. Come and look.

Look at what?

I was wrong.
It was done by a woman.

Yes.

Would you, gently as possible,
separate the fingers?

I can't, sir. Rigor mortis.

Yes.

But that is definitely
a woman's hair.

Yes.
Have you taken her temperature?

- No, not yet.
- Do so.

You would agree,
would you not, sir,

that that is definitely
a woman's hair?

I would agree that there is
more here than meets the eye

at first glance.

Three books...
All romances, all in German.

The book on the bedside table?

Also German.

And the candlestick?

It's burnt right down,

just a tiny bit
at the bottom of the socket.

Make a particular note
of the pattern of that socket.

I'm afraid the foolish
bloodhounds are arriving.

Well, we've done something.
Not enough, but something.

- Mrs. Goldstein?
- Yeah, they're in there.

And don't you think
of running away.

I shall need you in a moment.

- After you, Doctor.
- Thank you.

Good morning, sir.

Friends of yours, Hart?

Yes. Well, actually...

We were with Dr. Hart
when he was summoned here.

We are... were his professors.

I see.
Not practical, working doctors.

Dr. Thorndyke is not unheard of.

Oh, really?

Well,
I'm afraid your locus standi

is a question for the police.

My assistant was not authorized
to call in outsiders.

All right,
you needn't wait, Hart.

No, sir.

Detective Sergeant Bates,
isn't it?

That's right, sir.

The Parade Street case
five years ago.

Well, I'm sure I've no objection

to Dr. Thorndyke being present
or Dr...

- Jervis.
- Or Dr. Jervis.

Many hands make light work, eh?
Well, then...

Hart, before you go,
what's her name?

I'm afraid I don't know, sir.

That is the first thing
you should have found out.

Weren't you taught that?

- I'm sorry.
- Oh, never mind.

How long would you say
she's been dead, Dr. Thorndyke?

About 10 hours.

Thank you, sir.

That fixes it
at 2:00 this morning.

- Now, then...
- Would you excuse me a moment?

I've told him not to worry.

My advice is stop working
for that man.

You'll forget everything
lever taught you.

He's the worst kind of idiot...
A vain idiot.

Dr. Thorndyke, of course,

has not a trace of vanity
in his composition.

Not a trace.

Yes, well, sir, I must be off.

Keep to the left side
of the stairs as you go down,

would you?

You know the policeman?

I saved his bacon once.

I'm disinclined to do so again.

The force will be better off
without him.

Dishonest?

No, the usual bluffer.

Totally at a loss unless
he catches his man red-handed

or he's told who did it
by an army of informers.

- Mrs. Goldstein?
- Yes, sir?

I take it you have several young
ladies staying at this house?

Yes, that's right, sir.

And I take it that one of them

is short or shortish,
with long, red hair?

May O'Brien.

And there has been
a disagreement

between Miss O'Brien
and the dead girl?

Well, did She do it?
Did May do it?

I have not yet formed
an opinion.

She did swear she'd kill Minna.

Minna?

Yeah, I heard her swear it, but
I never thought she meant it.

No, I don't believe
she meant it.

It was just her Irish temper,
that's all.

You know the Irish.

Shouting, screaming
their heads off one minute,

and then, next minute,
it's all friends again.

She would have been friends
again with Minna.

I know she would.

Oh, no.

May couldn't have done
a thing like that.

The detective and the surgeon

are in the process
of deciding otherwise.

Oh, she couldn't have.

Then it's as well
that I'm here now.

Well, I suppose they've come

to their slapdash conclusion
by now, don't you?

Well, gentlemen, have you come
to your... to a conclusion?

- Not difficult, sir.
- No, I'm sure not.

You'll have noticed
that hair in her hand

and the box
with the hassock on it?

Yes.

So, all we need is a shortish,
red-haired woman with a knife.

- Bob's your uncle.
- Yes.

Clear as daylight.

Yes, and you would agree,
Doctor?

Well, I see no reason
to disagree.

None? Admirable.

Well, Sergeant, what do you
think is the sequence of events?

I take it the deceased
read herself to sleep.

Book on the table,
candle burnt right away.

I imagine this red-haired woman
came in quietly...

The door being unlocked?

Oh, it must have been.

I suppose she turned on the gas
since there wasn't no candles,

put the box and the hassock
at the bedhead,

leaned over,
and cut the victim's throat.

The deceased
must have half-waked,

clutched
at the murderess's hair,

but got killed almost at once.

Then the murderess washed
her hands in this basin here,

cleaned the knife,
tidied up the bed a bit,

turned off the gas,

and out of the room
as quietly as she come in.

Splendid.

Well, that's how it happened.

How do you account
for the sand on the pillow?

You noticed that.

I couldn't think
how it got there.

Simple, sir,
when you come to look around.

Ball of sandsoap on a washdown
basin with bloodstained water.

As I said, sir, after the crime,
the murderess washed her hands.

Then, while she was drying
her hands,

she came back to the bedhead,

leant over to make sure the
deceased was really deceased,

and some sand sprinkled down
onto the pillow.

Yes, of course.

I didn't think of that.

Well, I think we better have
the landlady in

to make some inquiries.

Yes, I think you're probably
right, Dr. Davidson.

The landlady's outside.
Should I send her in?

- If you would, sir.
- Delighted.

Mrs. Goldstein,
they want to talk to you.

I'm not going in there.

There is nothing to be seen.

They will ask you
the same questions I asked you.

Answer them truthfully, or you
yourself will be in danger.

Could I possibly have done more?

Could I have given them
a broader hint?

All that fooling about
with the door?

They don't deserve to be helped.

And anyway,
you've decided not to.

The science of detection
is not yet out of the cradle.

Look, Jervis.

Look at what they've chosen
to ignore.

Burnt end of a match.

Exactly. Now follow me and look.

Look. What do you see?

Spot of candle wax.

Exactly. And look.

Another spot of candle wax.

Yes. And look.

Another burnt end of a match.

And look.

Another spot of candle wax.

With what?

Well, with...
With the mark in it

of the... the front of a heel
of a... of a shoe?

I think not.

- A galosh?
- I think.

A galosh descending the stair.

Right.

And look.

Faint marks of rather wet,
muddy galoshes.

Right.

Well, anyone can have wet,
muddy galoshes.

Yes, if it has been raining.

More candle wax,
more marks of wet, muddy feet

because it was raining
and because it was dark.

Well, it could perfectly well
have been

one of the other lodgers

coming in late at night
while it was raining

and lighting matches
and a candle

to see their way upstairs.

And then coming down again?

Or coming in with a friend,

and then the friend
coming down again.

If a candle,
why the burnt-out matches,

one halfway up the stairs
and one on the landing?

I shall have to think
about that.

Do.

And did you make a note
of the socket...

The pattern of the socket
of the bedside candlestick?

Yes, rather unusual,
a sort of skeleton pattern...

Eight thin, flat strips
of metal.

Like that?

Yes, corresponding
to those marks exactly.

Would you turn the latch
backwards and forwards

to see how smoothly it runs
and how much noise it makes?

Well, the latch is as smooth as
butter and silent as the grave.

It's undoubtedly been oiled
very recently.

Whether by a short, red-headed
woman, I regret I'm unable...

I beg your pardon. I was just...

- Are you the police?
- No, they're, -

Is she dead?

Yes.

Really dead? Is she really dead?

I'm afraid so.

Miss O'Brien?

Is there anything we can...
Would you like us...

Shall we be off?

We don't need to see
that girl arrested,

and I've had quite enough
for one morning

of seeing the police
do everything wrong,

as if I'd never talked,
never even existed.

Thorndyke!

Are you, as I sometimes suspect,
totally inhuman?

I'm simply curious to know

whether you intend to take
any active part in this affair?

That depends on circumstances.

Then I'm afraid I must ask...
What circumstances?

I have some evidence.

What it is worth,
I do not yet know.

Nor do I know whether the police

have observed
the same set of facts.

You know perfectly well
they haven't.

I suspect they have not.

I do not yet know it
of my own knowledge.

You're being exceptionally
professorial today.

That may be.

May I hazard a guess as to why?

My dear Jervis,

I've been trying to teach you
for years

not to indulge in guessing.

You were annoyed
with your students,

those dumb animals who sit and
take notes and learn nothing.

Students are students.

I accept their stupidity.

On top of your annoyance

at your evident failure
to teach them anything

comes your
even greater annoyance

at your failure to teach

the police force
of this metropolis...

The police had exactly
the same opportunities

as myself this morning

to discover
what was significant.

You rang, sir?

Polton, how refreshing to see
someone who's not a fool.

Yes, sometimes, sir.

This piece of molding wax...
Which pray handle with care...

Shows the impression
of a candle end.

I'll be careful, sir.

It will show
the shape of the socket

in which the candle was held.

It will also, I imagine,

show the thumb and fingerprints

of whoever held the candle
in his or her right hand.

- You want a cast of it, sir?
- Please.

Right.

Mrs. Hobbs wants to know
if you wanted lunch, sir.

Please.

Right.

Invaluable fellow.

Indeed.

I ask again... are you
going to help the police?

I shall do everything in my
power to assist the authorities.

That is a matter
of common citizenship.

Do you... forgive me... consider
yourself to be a common citizen?

If you want to know
what was on the girl's pillow,

just take a look at this.

It's rather a pretty specimen.

But this is Foraminifera.

I think.

Then it's not silver sand,
after all.

- No.
- And not from the sandsoap.

- Certainly not.
- Then what?

It is a message to us
from the deep sea,

from the floor
of the Eastern Mediterranean.

- Can you read the message?
- Not yet.

What are you doing
this afternoon?

What are you
going to ask me to do?

I have a faculty meeting
at 3:00,

which will take heaven knows
how long.

Well, what do you want me to do?

Go back to Harrow Alley.
Talk to Mrs. Goldstein.

I want a list of all the people
who were...

What shall we say?...

Closely acquainted
with the dead girl.

I want their names, addresses,
and occupations.

Why their occupations?

My dear Jervis, pray don't
indulge in mental indolence.

You have the essential facts
as I have them.

Consider them separately,
collectively,

and in relation
to the circumstances.

Well, I was only trying...

Consider the oiling of the locks

on the street door
and on the girl's door.

Consider the marks
on the stairs.

Consider the absence of a candle
in the bedside candlestick.

Consider what you have just seen
under the microscope.

And don't attempt
to suck my brain

when you have an excellent brain
of your own to suck.

Good afternoon.
May I speak to Mrs. Goldstein?

- You was here this morning.
- Yes.

- Police?
- No.

Well...
Well, what do you want, then?

I simply want a few words
with Mrs. Goldstein.

Of course, if you'd prefer me
to speak to the policeman...

Come in.

Thank you.

- You was with that other one.
- That's right.

Dr. Thorndyke. I'm his partner.

Listen, May O'Brien did it.
What else do you want to know?

Do you believe
May O'Brien did it?

Of course.
She hated Minna, didn't she?

She said she'd kill her.
I heard it myself.

Minna was my friend.

Forgive me.
Why did she hate Minna?

I've already told the police
all this.

Why should I tell you?

I want to see justice done.

You'll see it done, all right.

Oh, yes, anybody here
will tell you the same.

Ever since Minna come over
from Germany...

She was German?

She come over a year ago,

and May had a sweetheart, or
thought she had... Sam Turner.

And Minna took him away
from her,

and quite right, too,
if you ask me.

He was too good for that May.

So, that's why,
and anybody will tell you.

And you yourself heard May
O'Brien say she would kill?

Only last week,
here where I'm standing now.

There was me and Minna

and Edie Johnson
from the second-floor front.

And we was going out
for a bit of a walk, you know?

And May comes in,

and she starts shouting at Minna
and calling her names

because of Sam.

And Minna just laughed at her

and told her she could have
Paul Petrofsky instead.

Paul Petrofsky?

He was Minna's friend
when she first come over,

before she took up with Sam.

You don't know much, do you?

And you heard May say...

We all heard her,
every one of us.

She said, "Minna Adler",

I'm gonna cut your throat
one of these nights,

"even if I swing for it."

Kate Wilfer,
you get along upstairs.

Well, it's the gospel truth,
and she knows it, same as I do.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Goldstein.

I have a message
from Dr. Thorndyke,

who was here with me
this morning

and who's taking an interest
in this case.

What's he want to take
an interest in it for?

Dr. Thorndyke
is a very eminent man.

Can he bring the dead
back to life, then?

He's often saved people
from dying.

Tell him to get here
a bit sooner next time.

Dr. Thorndyke is anxious

to arrive at the truth
of this affair.

She told you the truth,
didn't she?

Mrs. Goldstein,
this morning you didn't believe

that May O'Brien could have
committed this crime.

And I know better now,
don't I, from that detective?

The police aren't always right.

Around these parts,
they're right.

Dr. Thorndyke is anxious to have

a list of the people
who knew the dead girl,

with their addresses
and occupations.

No.

He has good reasons.

You tell your Dr. Thorndyke I've
got a life to live around here.

I'm not gonna get no more people
mixed up in this,

not when I don't have to,
not for your doctor.

You tell him so, from me.

He wants any lists,
he goes to the police for them.

Dr. Thorndyke has friends
of importance in the police.

Well, then he's all right,
isn't he?

Mrs. Goldstein, are you aware
of the present law

relating to common lodging
houses being used as brothels?

My girls is all working girls.

Are you aware of the law

relating to the importation
of prostitutes from abroad?

You can't say that.

She was a waitress... Empire
Restaurant, Fenchurch Street.

Oh, yes, I'm sure all your girls
have other jobs

during the daytime...
Except Kate?

- She's been poorly.
- Yes.

All I'm saying,
Mrs. Goldstein, is...

Do you want Dr. Thorndyke

to talk to Superintendent Miller
of Scotland Yard,

or would you prefer
to make out that list?

Good evening. Sorry I'm late.

Hello, Jervis.

Dr. Jervis, my colleague.

Mr. Sam Turner,

whose address you were so good
as to obtain for me.

How do you do?

Miss Minna Adler's
particular friend.

Yeah.

Mr. Turner is afraid
that I might be...

"prying," I think was the word.

And he doesn't want me to pry.

- What's the use of it?
- Exactly.

So, we haven't discussed
the case at all.

Well, what's the use?
Poor Minna is dead.

I've offered
our deepest sympathies.

Of course.

Her murderess is arrested.
That's that.

So, instead we've discussed
a glass of tea.

I'll be off, then.

We've also discussed
Mr. Turner's work.

- Porter.
- Yes, I know.

In a warehouse in the Minories.

Did you know, Jervis,

that the new season's crop
of sponges from Turkey

arrived a few days ago?

No. No, I didn't.

Mr. Turner says they should be
in the shops

by the end of the week.

- We must look out for them...
- Yes.

Particularly
since our own sponge

is overdue
for honorable retirement.

Well, goodbye, Mr. Turner,
and I promise not to pry.

Aw, I didn't mean no harm, gov.

Neither did I, Mr. Turner.
Neither did I.

Don't want to see you
wasting your time.

Well, thanks for the tea.

Would you mind settling up,
please, Jervis?

And now, at last, what did
you think of Mr. Sam Turner?

I said, what did you think
of Mr...

Nothing, as yet.

Jervis, if you touch that glass,

I shall have you struck
off the register.

I beg your pardon!

I gave you
every possible indication.

Why do you suppose
I mentioned Turkey sponges?

And why do you imagine
I gave him tea?

Polton, what are you doing here
at this hour?

Waiting for you
to give me something

with that man's fingerprints
on it, sir.

Polton, you are
a highly intelligent fellow.

Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir, thank you.

Which is more than I can say
of some others.

Was it the... the glass, sir?

Yes, thank you, the glass.

It's no use you looking at me
like that, Jervis.

I know you are burning
to strike me dead.

I'm often burning
to strike you dead.

Will that be all, sir?

- Yes, thank you.
- Thank you, sir.

Jervis,
you're as bad as the police,

trampling and rummaging and
destroying essential evidence.

But that man
was Minna Adler's sweetheart.

Jervis, Jervis, Jervis,
how many times must I tell you

not to confuse your mind
with questions of motive?

Consider nothing... nothing
but the ascertainable facts.

But... forgive me... murders
are committed for a motive.

Which is not necessarily
the obvious one.

Yes, you're just as bad
as the police

who snatch at a motive
like a dog at a bone

and then ignore or misinterpret
the facts that don't fit,

and an innocent
goes to the gallows.

I take your point

that motive mustn't be
the first consideration,

but surely...

Lam saying more than that.

I am saying that only the facts
are sacred.

If the facts prove
that Mr. X committed the murder,

his motive will emerge
sooner or later.

Suppose that I were found here
on the floor in the morning

with a knife through my heart.

Who do you suppose
would be arrested?

Someone in the police,
I imagine.

No.

You.

Me?

A reliable witness
would be able to testify

that you were burning
to strike me dead.

John, you're not playing fair.

Let me put a very simple
question to you, then.

You gave me Mrs. Goldstein's
list, with their occupations.

Now, only two people on that
list work in a sponge warehouse.

Now, if Mr. Sam Turner's
fingerprints

do not correspond
to those on the candle end,

what is the obvious deduction?

I apologize.

You're quite right.

I should prefer you to add
"as always" to that remark.

As always.

Thank you.

- Morning.
- Morning.

From the coroner's office,
I'll be bound.

Yes, the coroner's subpoena.

And a very civil letter.

"Sorry to trouble you,

but I had no choice
under the circumstances."

Of course he hadn't.

"Dr. Davidson's arranged to make
the autopsy tomorrow

at 4:00 p.m."

Tomorrow?

Yes, he means today.

"And I should be glad
if you could be present.

The mortuary
is in Barker Street."

Well, I suppose we must go,
though Davidson will resent it.

And will you resent Davidson?

I shall do my duty by helping
the course of justice.

Whether I help Davidson

depends entirely on whether
he wishes to be helped.

Good afternoon, sir. Dr. Jervis.

Good afternoon, Hart.
Making notes already?

Yes.

I'm afraid
I assumed you weren't coming.

I have a few seconds to 4:00.

Really?
I think you must be slow.

Jervis?

My mistake, apparently.

Yes.

I'm sorry I started without you,

but a postmortem is really a
mere farce in a case like this.

I had seen all there was
to be seen, and so had you.

However, there's the body.

Hart hasn't closed it up yet.

And now, if you'll excuse me,
I have other things to do.

Good afternoon.

I must apologize
for Dr. Davidson, sir.

You needn't.

You didn't supply him
with manners.

Well, don't let me disturb you.

I just want to verify
one or two facts.

Davidson is a perfect swine.

If I know anything about it,

Dr. Davidson
has just done himself

a great deal
of professional harm.

Good.

I think the doctor
has found something.

What?

He'll let us know in his own way
and in his own good time.

The doctor has
definitely found something.

That's splendid.

Did Davidson find anything
in the vertebrae of the neck?

No.

Poor Davidson.

There you are, Thorndyke.

Who is that, sir?

That's Superintendent Miller
of Scotland Yard.

- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.

Jervis.

Good afternoon, Superintendent.
Now, what's he got wind of?

Been having another look, eh?

I'm afraid he's arrived
just after the nick of time.

I gather we're to see you
at the inquest tomorrow.

I've been subpoenaed to attend.

Anything that you'd like
to tell me before then?

On the grounds
of old friendship?

I never use those grounds,
except in dire extremity.

This case is not extremity.

No, I don't think there is.

All right, you can tell me this,
if you want to.

Is Sergeant Bates going to make
a fool of himself?

- Yes.
- And Davidson?

- Even more so.
- Why?

Because they're fools.

Well, I shall attend
the inquest myself

to protect the fair name
of the force.

Miller,
you can tell me something.

I hope.

The inquest is to be held
in a school room.

Do you know the room?

I have been there before.

- How many doors has it?
- Just one.

Does it lock?

Well, if it doesn't, I can make
quite sure that it does.

It may well be that, during the
course of my evidence tomorrow,

I shall suddenly be seized
by a desire

to take out my pocket
handkerchief and blow my nose.

I shall look forward
to that moment.

If and when it happens,
would you or someone,

as unobtrusively but as quickly
as possible, lock that door?

I shall see to it myself.

I would also appreciate it if...

If two rather burly policemen

could be somewhere
in my vicinity.

To protect you from someone
or someone from you?

Who knows?

Call Sarah Goldstein.

- Dr. Thorndyke.
- Morning.

All witnesses?

My students.
They've come here to learn.

Like me. Witnesses over there.

I think I shall sit
with the public.

Do. Doctor.

Mrs. Goldstein, will you tell us
the circumstances

under which you discovered
the body?

At 11:00 in the morning, sir,
I went out in the backyard, sir.

She, of course, has been
schooled by Sergeant Bates.

Miss Wilfer, you were intimately
acquainted with the deceased,

I believe.

She was my best friend.

Had she, as far as you know,
any enemies,

any persons
who bore her a grudge

and were likely to do her
an injury?

Yes. May O'Brien.

May O'Brien was her enemy.
She hated her.

She hated the deceased.

How do you know that?

I heard her say to Minna,

"I'm gonna cut your throat
one of these nights,

even if I swing for it."

And the fools think
that is evidence of guilt.

Miss Johnson, were you present
at this encounter

between May O'Brien
and the deceased?

Yes, sir, I was,
me and Paul Petrofsky.

And did you hear these words
spoken by May O'Brien?

Yes, I did, sir, same as Kate.

And are you also convinced that
the words were meant in earnest?

Yes, I am, sir.

She wanted to kill her.
She really did.

How can anyone give evidence

as to what is
in someone else's mind?

In fact, Mr. Petrofsky,

your evidence
totally corroborates

that of Miss Wilfer
and Miss Johnson.

It... It what?

You saw and heard
the same things.

Yes.

Any questions, Mr. Mulliner?

Mr. Petrofsky, you are a man

and therefore less likely
to be affected

by personal feelings
towards my client.

This fellow is a ninny.

I think you knew my client,
May O'Brien, reasonably well?

I saw her
when I came to the house.

And how often was that,
Mr. Petrofsky?

I was Minna's friend

until she took up
with Sam Turner.

Yes.
So, you went to the house...

Every day.

And thereafter,
after she had taken up with...

I was changing lodgings.

I had no place to keep my box.

Mrs. Goldstein let me keep
my box in the house.

I... I came to get things
from it.

Every day?

Some days not.

Yeah, but in any case,
what I'm getting at

is you did see my client,
May O'Brien,

on a great number of occasions.

- Yes.
- Yes.

Now, would you not agree with me

that May O'Brien is normally a
kind and peaceable young woman,

apart from occasional,
momentary outbursts of temper

of a kind that we associate
with the Irish temperament

and more especially
with the red-haired Irish

and that,
during one of these outbursts,

she might easily say something
which she did not really mean?

Shall I put that question
another way?

No.

She meant it, all right.
She meant it.

By pressing for the answer
he wants,

he gets the exact opposite.

I swear by Almighty God
that the evidence I shall give

shall be the truth,
the whole truth,

and nothing but the truth.

Detective Sergeant Alfred Bates,

Criminal Investigation
Department,

H Division, Metropolitan Police.

Close attention, gentlemen.

On the day in question,

I was called by Constable
Simmonds at 11:49 a.m.

and reached the house
at two minutes before 12:00,

in company with
Divisional Surgeon Davidson.

I found the deceased woman,
Minna Adler,

lying in bed
with her throat cut.

She was dead and cold.

There were no signs
of any struggle,

and the bed did not appear
to have been disturbed.

A wooden box had been placed on
the floor at the head of the bed

with a hassock on it.

Evidently, the murderer
had stood on this,

leaned over the bedhead,
and committed the murder.

This was rendered necessary
by the position of the table,

which could not have been moved

without making a noise
and disturbing the deceased.

I infer from the presence
of the box and hassock

that the murderer was a person
well below average height.

Was there anything else

that seemed to indicate
the identity of the murderer?

Yes, I found a tress
of woman's red hair,

which was grasped in
the right hand of the deceased.

The hair
in the packet marked "A"

was found in the hand
of the deceased.

The hair in the packet marked
"B" is the hair of May O'Brien.

Thank you, Sergeant Bates.

Mr. Mulliner.

Where did you obtain the hair
in the packet marked "B"?

From a bag of hair combings

that hung on the wall
in May O'Brien's room.

I object to this.

There is no evidence
that the hair in that bag

was the hair of May O'Brien.

Neither of the fools see
the significance of that bag.

Did you know about the bag,
then?

No, I thought it was
the hairbrush.

I'll make a note of your
objection, Mr. Mulliner.

Thank you, sir.

But I shall allow the sergeant
to continue his evidence.

I have examined
and compared the hair,

and in my opinion they are from
the head of the same person.

The next thing I noted
in the deceased woman's room

was that there was a small
quantity of silver sand

sprinkled about her pillow.

Silver sand?

I think it easily explained,
sir.

I observed that the wash basin
was full of bloodstained water,

indicating that the murderer
had washed his or her hands

after the crime.

On the washstand
was a ball of sandsoap

with which the murderer
had cleansed his or her hands

and, while drying them,
had moved back to the bedhead,

and some sand sprinkled down
onto the pillow.

A simple but highly
ingenious explanation.

I searched May O'Brien's room

and found not only
the bag of hair combings

but also a knife,

such as is used
by stencil cutters.

There were bloodstains
on this knife

which she explained by saying

that she cut her finger
a few days before.

She admitted the knife was hers.

I produce the knife.

Mr. Mulliner?

Has May O'Brien's finger
been examined since her arrest?

- Not to my knowledge.
- Why not?

It was not considered necessary.

When you examined the bottom
of the wash-hand basin,

did you find silver sand
at the bottom?

I did not examine the bottom
of the wash-hand basin.

Did anyone examine it?

Not to my knowledge.

Why not?

It was not considered necessary.

If May O'Brien had washed the
knife in the wash-hand basin...

I never said that.

I repeat.

If May O'Brien had washed the
knife in the wash-hand basin,

there would have been no blood
on it.

I assumed she washed her hands,
but not the knife.

- You assume.
- Yes.

Thank you.

He has no hope
of proving her innocent,

so he makes a couple
of effective points

and feels he's done his duty.

What can she afford to pay him?

Exactly. It's not worth
his while to use his brain.

I swear by Almighty God
the evidence I shall give

shall be the truth,
the whole truth,

and nothing but the truth.

Dr. Henry Davidson,
Police Divisional Surgeon.

Particularly close attention,
gentlemen.

Doctor, you saw the body

soon after the discovery
of the murder.

Yes, she'd been dead
about 10 hours.

Rigidity was complete
in the lower limbs,

though not yet in the trunk.

The cause of death
was a deep wound

extending across the throat

and separating all the
structures down to the spine.

They'd been inflicted

by the single sweep
of a single-edged knife

drawn partly from left to right
by a right-handed person

standing behind the bed while
the deceased was lying down.

I saw no sign of a struggle,

and I take it that death
was almost instantaneous.

"Almost"?

Well, it was practically
instantaneous.

- "Practically"?
- Well, as good as.

Shall I go on?

Please do.

I've seen the tress
of a woman's red hair

referred to by Sergeant Bates,

I've compared it
with that of the accused,

and in my opinion,
it is the same hair.

I wondered when the word
"accused" was going to come in.

I've also been shown
a stencil knife

belonging to the accused
with stains on it,

which I find to be
mammalian blood,

probably human, though I cannot
say with any certainty.

Could the wound have been
inflicted with this knife?

Well, it is a small knife to
have inflicted so deep a wound,

but, yes,
it is perfectly possible.

Mr. Mulliner.

Doctor, you state
that there was no struggle

and the death was as good
as instantaneous.

And yet you imply

that the deceased had torn out
a lock of the murderess's hair.

Are not these statements
inconsistent?

No.

I take it that the hair
was grasped convulsively

at the moment of death.

Doctor, it is possible

to identify positively
the hair of any individual?

No, not with any certainty.

Thank you.

But this is
very recognizable hair.

Thank you, Dr. Davidson.

And now, Dr. Thorndyke?

Pay very close attention,
gentlemen.

In fact, if I were you, I would
try to memorize every word.

John Evenly Thorndyke,
Doctor of Medicine,

Fellow of the Royal College
of Surgeons,

Honorary Fellow of the
Royal College of Physicians,

Lecturer
in Medical Jurisprudence,

St. Margaret's Hospital,

visiting professor
at the London Hospital,

emeritus professor,
St. Bartholomew's Hospital,

Member of Council

and sometime Examiner of
the Royal College of Surgeons.

Well, Doctor, I gather
you reached the scene

shortly before
the two previous witnesses

and saw the same things.

I saw the same things
that they saw.

But with different eyes.

Now, I take it, then,
the facts are not in dispute.

The facts can never be
in dispute.

Would you give us your opinion

in the matter
of the woman's hair?

I shall give you the facts.

Would you look at the hair

in the packet marked "A"
and the packet marked "B"

and tell us whether,
in your opinion,

they are of the same person?

I have no doubt they are
from the same person.

Aah!

But equally, I have no doubt

they are not the hair
of the murderer.

But the hair was found
in the hand of the deceased.

Yes.

The hair was placed
in the hand of the deceased

after the moment of death.

Therefore we may assume it is
not the hair of the murderer.

One does not deliberately choose
to incriminate oneself.

But... how can you know
the hair was placed?

Firstly, by the condition
of the hand.

When a person at the moment of
death grasps any object firmly,

this sets up a cadaveric spasm,

a muscular contraction

which passes immediately
into rigor mortis.

The object remains
firmly grasped

until this rigidity
finally passes off.

In this case, the hand
was still perfectly rigid,

but it did not grasp the hair.

Dr. Davidson...

Dr. Davidson's assistant
can testify to this,

if you doubt my word.

No, no. But, Dr. Thorndyke...

Secondly, if I may,

when a lock of hair
is forcibly torn out,

the roots will be found to be
at the same end.

Now, if you will examine the
hair in the packet marked "A"

with the aid of this lens...

you will find the roots
are at both ends.

Therefore,
it is not a lock of hair

that has been forcibly torn out.

Thirdly and most conclusively,

when a hair is torn
from the head,

it drags out the root sheath.

When it falls naturally,
it does not.

The root bulb comes out,
but the sheath does not.

Dr. Davidson, I'm sure,

will confirm this
of his own knowledge.

Dr. Davidson?

Yes.

The difference
can plainly be seen.

If Miss O'Brien will tear
out a few hairs from her head.

Yes.

Here you are!

Now, if you will examine
those hairs

with the aid of the lens...

the root sheaths show
as a glistening mass.

Remarkable, just remarkable.

The hair in the dead woman's
hand had fallen naturally.

I assume it was taken by someone

from the bag of combings
found in Miss O'Brien's room.

What?

Sit down, Mr. Turner.

Taken by someone?

B'! Whom?

I assume by the murderer.

But who...

Who?

Would you forgive me
for a moment?

Thank you. That's better.

I observed certain things
in Mrs. Goldstein's house

which clearly established
the identity of the murderer.

The lock on the street door
had been recently oiled.

No doubt the murderer
opened it with a latchkey.

No doubt there were
a great many of these,

for the lodgers
and for their regular guests.

Yes, and why not?

It rained that night,
the first time for a week,

between half past 1:00
and a quarter to 2:00.

There were wet footmarks
inside the front door

and also on the stairs.

There were burnt-out matches

to indicate
that someone lit a match,

threw it away
halfway up the stairs,

lit another, and threw it away
on the landing.

The lock on the girl's door,
also recently oiled,

had been opened
by a piece of wire

which left a distinct mark
on the end of the key.

The bedside candlestick
was empty.

- Burnt out.
- Not so.

The murderer lit the candle,
took it from the socket,

used it to light the way
downstairs,

holding it in the right hand.

I have a cast of the candle end,

which will show
the shape of the socket

and also the fingerprints
of the murderer.

Dr. Thorndyke,
whose fingerprints?

I also examined the sand
on the girl's pillow.

It contained Foraminifera...

Tiny Seashells
found only in deep-sea sand

in the Eastern Mediterranean.

Such sand is found in quantity

in every consignment
of Turkish sponges.

The clothes
of a sponge-warehouse worker

becomes saturated with them.

There were two such workers,

both closely acquainted
with the dead girl.

The fingerprints
were not those of Sam Turner.

Therefore...

Aah! Aah!

I was sorry not to submit
my last piece of evidence

to discomfort Dr. Davidson.

Dr. Davidson was discomforted
enough already.

A small piece of metal embedded
in the left transverse process

of the fourth vertebrae.

I think you will find a notch

on Mr. Petrofsky's knife
corresponding to this.

You're a demon.

Superintendent, I seek
to persuade you of one thing.

When a crime has been committed,
the scene of that crime

should be as the palace
of the sleeping beauty.

Not a grain of dust
should be moved

until the truly
scientific observer

has seen and analyzed
everything.

A fragment of metal
was merely overlooked,

but what would have happened

if I had not got to that room
before anyone else,

your police trampling
and rummaging,

smudging and tidying
and taking away?

An innocent girl
would have gone to the gallows.

And the deep sea would have
uttered its message in vain.

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