Original subtitles

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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