All language subtitles for Sherlock Holmes.S01E02.The Problem of Thor Bridge

...long, long
before Jesus was born,

it is truly a lost
world and it's in Brazil.

Your mamma's homeland
and your country, too.

Never allow yourself to love
someone too deeply, Mr. Bates.

It will destroy you.

So, you've come.

You have a case Holmes.

Ha, your faculty of observation
is certainly contagious.

It has enabled you at once to probe
my secret. Yes, I have a case-

after a month of trivialities
and stagnation

the wheels move once more.

Might I share it?

There's little to share.

We will discuss it after you consume
those two hard-boiled eggs,

which our temporary
cook has favored us.

Their condition may not be
unconnected

with a copy of the Family Herald
which I observed yesterday

on the hall table.

Even so trivial a matter as them
cooking an egg demands an attention,

which is incompatible with
a love romance

in that excellent periodical.

I hope Mrs. Hudson
is enjoying her holiday.

You've heard of Neil Gibson,
the gold king?

You mean the American senator?

Well he was senator
of some western state.

He's better known as the greatest
gold mining magnet in the world.

Yes, I know of him.

Stayed in England for
some time, didn't he?

He bought a considerable estate
in Hampshire some five years ago.

You may have heard of the
tragic death of his wife.

Oh, that's why the name is familiar.
I know nothing of the details.

The fact is that the case,

although exceedingly sensational
appears to present no difficulty.

The interesting personality of
the accused, Miss Grace Dunbar

does not obscure the
clearness of the evidence.

That the view taken
by the coroner's jury

and also in the police court
proceedings.

It is a thankless business,
Watson.

I can discover facts,
but I cannot change them.

Unless some new and entirely
unexpected ones come to light

I do not see what my
client can hope for.

Your client?

I'm falling into your involved
habit of telling a story back...

I don't believe this.
You must read this first.

"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,"

"I cannot see the best
woman God ever made"

go to her death without doing all
that is possible to save her.

"I can't explain things.
I can't even try to explain them"

"but I know beyond all doubt
that Miss Dunbar is innocent."

"You know the facts. Who doesn't?"

"It has been the gossip of the country
and never a voice raised for her."

"It's the damned injustice of it all
that makes me crazy."

"That woman has a heart
that wouldn't let her kill a fly."

"Maybe I have a
clue and don't know it."

"Anyway, all I know and
all I have and all I am"

"are for your use
if only you can save her."

You hardly have time to
master all these cuttings

so I must give it
to you in a lecture

if you're going to take an intelligent
interest in the proceedings.

Mr. Gibson, as I understand is a man
who married a Brazilian wife,

and for whom I know nothing
except that she was past her prime,

which was all the more unfortunate.
She has a very attractive governess

who superintended the
education of two children.

These are the three people concerned.
The scene is the grand old manor house.

As to the tragedy it takes place
across a bridge over the lake

half a mile from the house.

The wife was found late at night by
a gamekeeper on that bridge.

She was clad in her dinner dress and
a revolver bullet through her brain.

No weapon was found near her

and there was no local
clue as to her murder.

No weapon near her.
Mark that, Watson.

Is this too condensed, or
can you follow it clearly?

No, no, it's all very clear, but,

why suspect the governess?

Well, in the first place there was
some very direct evidence.

The dead woman had a note upon her
making an appointment at the bridge.

And signed by the governess.

Mr. Gibson sent his farm manager for
the police and stayed with the body

insisting that nothing
should be removed

until the police arrived
just after 11:00.

Then there is the evidence
of the revolver

with one discharged chamber.

And a caliber which corresponded
with the bullet'.

Yes, I see it here. It was found
in the drawer of her wardrobe.

In the drawer of her wardrobe.

That's pretty damning.

So the two juries thought, it is now
referred to the Assizes in Winchester.

And the motive?

Mr. Gibson is a very attractive man.

If his wife dies

who more likely to succeed her
than the young lady who had already

by all accounts received pressing
attentions from her employer.

Love, fortune, power,

all depending upon
one middle-aged man,

ugly, Watson, very ugly.

Nor could she prove an alibi.

On the contrary, she had to admit that
she was down to the bridge by 9:00.

A servant had seen her
hurrying there.

Well, it really does seem final.

And yet, Watson,

and yet.

Unless I'm mistaken that is our
client considerably before his time.

Gentleman to see you, sir.

Mr. Neil Gibson?

No, sir, not him. His name is Bates
and he looks a bit aggravated.

Thank you, Billy.

I have only a short time,
Mr. Bates.

I know Mr. Gibson is coming.
I am manager of his estate.

Mr. Holmes, he's a villain,
an infernal villain.

Strong words, Mr. Bates.

Well, I have to be emphatic,
Mr. Holmes.

The time is so limited. I'll not have
him find me here for the world.

And you're his manager.

Oh, I've given him notice.

In a couple of weeks I shall have
shaken off his cursed slavery.

He's a hard man, Mr. Holmes,

hard to all about him.
But his wife was his chief victim.

He was brutal to her.
Oh, yes, sir, brutal.

Now how she come by
her death I do not know,

but let me tell you
he made her life a misery.

She was a creature of the tropics,

a Brazilian by birth
as you no doubt know.

Yes, I understand.
Please continue, continue.

Well tropical by birth,
tropical by nature,

she was a child of
the sun and of passion.

She loved him as only such women
can love. We all felt for her.

Hated him for
the way he treated her.

But he's plausible and cunning.
And that's all I have to tell you.

Don't take him at face value.
There is more behind.

Now I'll go. No, please don't
detain me. He's almost clue.

Well, well, well.

Mr. Gibson has a
nice loyal household.

Rewarding is a useful one.

Mr. Gibson,
straight upstairs, sir.

This is my friend
and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Let me say right here,
Mr. Holmes.

Money is nothing
to me in this business.

You can burn it if it's any use
enlightening you to the truth.

This woman is innocent.
This woman has to be cleared.

It's up to you to do it.
Now name your figure.

My professional charges
are at a fixed rate.

I do not vary them save
when I remit them altogether.

Well, if money makes no difference
to you think of the reputation.

If you pull this off every newspaper in
England and America will be booming.

You'll be the
talk of two continents.

I do not think I'm in need
of booming, Mr. Gibson.

Please let us
get down to the facts.

Well, you'll find most of
the main ones in the press reports.

I don't think
I can add much to them,

but if there's anything you'd wish
more light on, well I'm here to give it.

Well there is just one point.

What is it?

What are your exact relations
with Miss Dunbar?

I suppose you are
within your rights,

maybe doing your duty, in asking
such a question, Mr. Holmes.

We will agree to suppose so.

Then I can assure you that our
relations were always and entirely

those of an employer
that awards a young lady

whom he never conversed
with or even saw

save when she was in the
company of his children.

I'm rather a busy man, Mr. Gibson.

I don't have the time or taste
for aimless conversations.

I wish you good morning.

What the devil do you
mean by this, Mr. Holmes?

Do you dismiss my case?

No, Mr. Gibson, I dismiss you.

The case is quite
sufficiently complicated

without the added difficulty
of false information.

Meaning that I lied?

I tried to express it
as delicately as I could,

but it you insist upon the word.
I will not contradict you.

Don't be noisy, Mr. Gibson.

I find after breakfast any
argument most unsettling.

I suggest a little
stroll in the open air

and some quiet thought will be
greatly to your advantage.

I've broken stronger
men than you, Mr. Holmes.

Nobody crosses me
and gets the better of it.

So many have
said so, yet here I am.

Well, Watson he has a
great deal yet to learn.

How on earth did you know about his
relationship with the governess?

Bluff, Watson, bluff.

I considered the passionate and
unbusinesslike tone of his letter

contrasted with his
manner and appearance.

It was pretty clear there
was some deep emotion

centered upon the accused woman
rather than the victim.

I bluffed him by giving the impression
that I was absolutely certain of it.

When in reality you were
only suspicious.

Do you think he'll come back?

He is sure to come back.

He must come back.

Oh, no, no, my dear Watson.

I fear you will not improve
any reputation I have acquired

by adding the Thor Bridge mystery

to your annuals. I fear I made
a serious misjudgment.

Holmes, the senator
may not have returned

but surely his letter has engaged
you on behalf of Miss Dunbar.

She's the one in need.
Might we not pay her a visit?

In the cells of Winchester?
That will require official permits.

Well, we have the means to apply.

Of course, it may
not be quite ethical.

But practical, Watson.

Practical. I congratulate you.

You solved our problem, Watson?

Some officious little
pipsqueak of a clerk

queried both the letter and
our home office permit.

He demanded a personal authorization
from Gibson himself.

But you sorted it out?

Only by the good fortune
of meeting her lawyer Mr. Cummings.

He secured a
brief audience with her,

Mr. Joyce Cummings is a man
with a rising reputation

that is certainly in her favor.

It really is providence
to see you here, Mr. Holmes.

Her trial is in two days

and I really am at my wits ends
to find any evidence to save her.

Did she admit to writing the note and
keeping the rendezvous with Mrs. Gibson?

She has little choice.

But beyond that I have advised her
to reserve her defense.

Quite so.

This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes
and his colleague, Dr. Watson.

Your employer,
Mr. Gibson has engaged me

to look into this unhappy matter.

Oh, I'm very grateful to Mr. Gibson.

It is incredible that the charge
against me has been sustained.

I thought the whole thing would clear
itself up in the police court.

My dear, dear, I beg of
you to have no illusions.

Mr. Cummings here will assure you

all the cards at
present are against you.

Mr. Gibson is convinced
of your innocence

but it would be a cruel
deception to pretend

that you're not
in very great danger.

I will conceal nothing.

What were the true relations
between you and Mr. Gibson's wife?

Permit? What permit?

How dare you take
this liberty, Mr. Holmes?

Mr. Gibson.

And you, Cummings,

I did not engage you, sir,
to conspire against me.

These men are here
under false pretenses.

I did not authorize their visit.
They're deceivers.

I demand their removal at once.

You have made a disturbance,
Mr. Gibson, worthy of bedlam.

I'll have you
crushed for this, Holmes.

Well, it'll profit you nothing.

Mr. Holmes.

We are leaving, superintendent.

Mr. Cummings.

For the moment, Miss Dunbar.

You must put your
faith in Sherlock Holmes.

Ah... Mr.?

Ferguson.

There is an excellent exhibition

at the museum across the street.
I recommend it to you.

The museum closes at 5:00.

The copy of the lease of the
buck-boat glass workers dated 1578.

These Huguenots, are they
any relations of yours?

Possibly.

Monsieur Potel and this paper
making of laver stoke.

They've had the manufacture
of bank notes for over a 100 years.

Well, it's good to know there's money
somewhere in your family.

Good afternoon, Mr. Ferguson.

Mr. Neil Gibson wishes to see you

at Thor Place at
11:00 tomorrow morning.

This evening will be
more convenient.

The morning, 11:00, Mr. Holmes.

Will a motor be sent for us?

There is a train which will
take you to Thor Village.

Mr. Gibson is a busy man.
He expects punctuality.

How did you know that
he was going to turn?

I gambled, there's been
enough of an impression

upon Miss Dunbar to
turn us back into favor.

We are after all her only hope.

Now, Watson, we must find
a comfortable inn for the night

so that we can arrive punctually
at Thor Place at 9:00 in the morning.

I thought he said 11:00.

9:00, Watson, to meet Sergeant
Coventry of the local police.

In all events, Mr. Holmes, I'd rather
have you than Scotland Yard.

If the Yard gets called into a case,
the local loses all credit for success

and may be blamed for failure.
Now, you play it straight, so I've heard.

I need not appear
in the matter at all.

That's very handsome of you.

And your friend, Dr. Watson,
can be trusted I know.

Now there is one question
I'd like to ask you

but I breath it to no soul but you.

Don't you think there might be a case
against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?

According to the servants,
he retired to his study after dinner

and had no company at all
until the alarm at 11:00.

Yes, I've been
considering Mr. Gibson.

These Americans are readier with
their pistols than our folk are.

It was his pistol, you know.
One of a pair he had.

One of a pair? Where is the other?

Well these gentlemen have all kinds
of firearms of one sort or another.

We never quite matched
that particular pistol.

The box was made for two.
Now, this is where the body lay.

I gathered from the press reports that
the shot was fired at close quarters.

Very close sir.

Near the right temple?

Just behind it, sir.

How did the body lie?

On the back, sir.

No trace of a struggle,
no mark, no weapons.

The short note from Miss Dunbar
was clutched in her left hand.

Clutched?

Yes, sir, we could hardly
open her fingers.

That is of the greatest importance.

It excludes the idea that anybody
could have placed it there.

After death to furnish a false clue.

But dear me, the note
as I remember, was quite short.

"Yes, I'll be at Thor Bridge 9:00
G. Dunbar." Wasn't that it?

So it was, sir.

The point of the note
is obscured, is it not?

Well, sir, it seemed if
I may be bold as to say so

the only real clear
point in the whole case.

Assuming the note is genuine.

She certainly received it some
time before, say an hour or two.

Why was she then clasping
it in the left hand?

She had no need to refer
to it in the interview.

Does that not seem remarkable?

Well sir, as you
put it, perhaps it does.

That is curious.

Oh, yes, sir, we noticed that.

I expect it's been
done by some passer-by.

Took some violence to do that.

It was a hard knock
not from above, but below.

You see some lower
end of the parapet, Watson?

Yes, and in a direct line
with the position of the body.

It's probably of no matter.

No footprints, you say?

The ground was iron hard, sir.
No marks at all.

Then we have nothing
more to learn here.

You are early, Mr. Holmes.

It is often the case with
punctuality, Mr. Ferguson.

Mr. Gibson is in a meeting.
He is not ready to see you.

I'll take care of them, Ferguson.

I'm very glad to see you gentlemen.

As we are a little early
perhaps we can see the gun room?

A man who has his enemies.

Oh, yes if you
knew him and his methods.

He sleeps with a loaded revolver
in a drawer by his bed.

He's a man of violence, sir.

Have you ever seen
him strike his wife?

Yes, more than once.

Our gold king does not seem to
shine in private life.

Holmes, here.

That's the box that contained
the murder weapon.

It was one of a pair.
The other is missing.

Mr. Ferguson is sure to know
that you're consorting with us.

Does that hold no alarm for you?

There's nothing he
can do to hurt me now.

Perhaps you'll be so kind as to
show us the schoolroom?

Where are the children?

Sent away on a visit to America.

Their Brazilian heritage
from their mother's side.

Miss Dunbar must seem to
be a remarkable teacher.

The children doted on her.

See, Watson,
the Ricardo Franco Hills.

See the unscaleable cliffs

which time and the foot
of man have never touched,

where monsters from the dawn of
history might still roam.

That's Martins, the Indian hunter.
I know about him.

His victims, women
and children, pitiful.

Would you say that Maria Gibson
was jealous of Miss Dunbar

and her influence over the children?

No, there was no
love lost between them.

But that was because she could see her
husband was under the lady's spell, too.

Get out of here, Bates.

Mr. Bates's views are
not relevant, Mr. Holmes.

They're distorted by his
infatuation for my late wife.

Who knows, Mr. Gibson,
what is and what is not relevant.

You're like a surgeon who wants
every symptom

before he could give a diagnosis.

As any a patient
has reason in deceiving

his surgeon who conceals the facts.

I can assure you

that the relations between
Miss Dunbar and myself

do not touch this case.

I'm sure that is for me to decide.

Most men have a
little private reserve

in some corner of their souls
where they don't welcome intruders.

You burst suddenly into mine.
What is it you want?

The truth.

I met my wife when I was
gold hunting in Brazil.

She was the daughter of a government
official in the Manaos.

Even now as I look
back with a colder eye

she had a rich passionate nature,
tropical, ill-balanced,

very different from the
American women I'd known.

It was only when
the romance had passed

that I realized we had nothing,
absolutely nothing in common.

My love faded but you know
the wonderful way of women.

Do what I might, nothing
could turn her from me.

If I'd been harsh
to her, even brutal,

it was because I knew that if I could
kill her love or turn it to hate

it would be easier for us both.
But nothing changed her.

She still adored me
in these English woods

as she had adored me 20 years
before on the banks of the Amazon.

Then came Miss Dunbar.

She is also a very beautiful woman

and I'll admit to you
that I could not live

under the same roof
in daily contact with her

without feeling a
passionate regard for her.

You blame me, Mr. Holmes?

I don't blame you for feeling it,
I should blame you for expressing it

since she was under your protection.

Well, maybe so. I'm not pretending
to be any better than I am.

I guess all of my life,

I've been a man that's reached out
his hand for what he wanted.

And I never wanted anything
more-

than the love and possession
of that woman. I told her so.

You did, did you?

I said if I could I'd marry her,
but it was out of my power.

Money was no object.

I'd do all I could to make
her happy, comfortable.

Very generous of you.

Now, see here, Mr. Holmes,

I came to you on a question of evidence,
not morals. I'm not asking for criticism.

It is only for the lady's sake
that I take on this case at all.

Nothing that she's
accused of is worse

than what you
yourself have admitted,

that you've tried to ruin a defenseless
girl who was under your roof.

You know some of you
rich men must retort

but all the world cannot be bribed
into condoning your offenses.

That's how I feel myself about it.

Now I thank God my
plans did not work out.

She'd have none of it, she wanted to
leave the house instantly.

But why did she not?

Others were dependent upon her

and it was no light matter
for her to let them down.

When I'd sworn that she should
never be molested again.

She consented to stay.

But there was another reason.

She knew the influence
that she had over me,

that it was stronger than
any other influence in the world.

She wanted to use it for good.

You're cruel.

You destroy good people
who can't stand up to you.

Not everyone shares your strength.
Can't you see that?

You call it a fair fight, but it isn't fair.

She saw it different.

She believed that a fortune for one
man that was more than he needed

should not be built
on 10,000 ruined men

who were left without
the means of life.

With your children you show
such tenderness and love.

Treat the world in the same way.

She found that I listened to
what she said.

So she stayed.

And then this came along.

Mr. Gibson, can you
throw any light upon it?

One explanation, I give it to you,
Mr. Holmes, for what it's worth.

There's no doubt that my
wife was bitterly jealous.

She might have planned
to murder Miss Dunbar,

or threaten her with a gun and
so frighten her into leaving us.

Maybe there was a scuffle.

The gun went off and shot
the woman who held it.

Yes, it is a possibility.

It is the only alternative
to deliberate murder.

But she utterly denies it.

What is against such a supposition?

Miss Dunbar herself.

She has just one day
left before the trial.

You must grant me permission to
visit her once more.

If ever in your life you showed
your powers, Holmes,

put them into this case now.

But I cannot promise you

that my conclusions will
be such as you desire.

Come, Watson.

We have several vital questions
to ask this young lady

and I must confess that
the case would seem to be

a very black one against her
if it were not for one thing.

What is that?

The finding of
a pistol in her wardrobe.

That seems to be the most
damning incident of all.

Not so, Watson.
It is my only firm ground for hope.

We must look for consistency.

Where there is a want of it,
we must suspect deception.

Come on, Holmes.

Miss Dunbar is depending on us.

Watson,

visualize yourself in the character
of Miss Dunbar

with a cold premeditated fashion
is about to get rid of her rival.

What would be your
actions and your thinking?

Well, I've written a note.
The victim has come.

I've taken the
weapon from the gun room.

The crime is done.

Workman like and complete,
and now the weapon.

Of course.

Precisely, Watson.

Those depths would hide it forever.

Your best friends would
hardly call you a schemer,

yet I cannot picture you carrying it
home and putting it in your wardrobe,

the very first place
that would be searched.

This revolver for example
she disclaims all knowledge of it.

You're saying that it was placed
in her wardrobe, but by who?

By someone who wished
to incriminate her.

Ah, Cummings.

Miss Dunbar we have
had lengthy conversations

with Mr. Gibson
and he has informed us

of your relations with him and
of your innocence in the matter.

But you need not pain yourself
with that part of the story.

But we do need to know something,

of your feelings towards,
Mrs. Gibson.

I had no wish
to wrong, Mrs. Gibson.

But she loved her husband
so vividly in a physical sense

that she could hardly understand

the mental even spiritual
tie which held him to me

or imagined that it was only my desire
to influence his power for good

which kept me under his roof.

I can see now that
I was wrong to stay.

Nothing could have
justified me in remaining

where I was a cause
of such unhappiness.

My client may be
loathe to mention it

but she has managed
to persuade Mr. Gibson

to finance a mission of
mercy to resettle tribes.

In particular, the Bororo Indians

who have fallen victim to unscrupulous
gold and rubber prospectors.

The venture is thriving.

We saw your pictures in the school.

Like so many of
those warrior Indians

Mr. Gibson can sometimes give
people a misleading impression.

Now, Miss Dunbar,

will you tell us exactly
what happened that evening?

I received a note from Mrs. Gibson
In the morning.

It implored me to meet her
at the bridge after dinner.

This note, did you keep it?

No. She asked me to destroy
it and to hide my answer

at the sundial in the garden.

I saw no reason for such secrecy

but she was very much
afraid of her husband

who treated her with a harshness
by which I frequently reproached him.

I can only imagine that she did not
wish him to know of our interview.

Yet she kept your reply
very carefully.

Yes, I was surprised to hear
she had it in her hand when she died.

Well, what happened then?

She was waiting for me.

So, you've come.

Never did I realize until that
moment how much she hated me.

She was like a mad woman.

I think she was mad with
a deep power of deception

which insane people may have.

You're cruel, you have no heart.

You don't know how to love.
You have no passion.

How else could she have met me
without concern every day.

She was standing there on the
bridge shrieking her curses at me.

English whore.

I curse the day that you were born.

And yet presuming
that she met her death

shortly after you left.
You heard no shot?

No, I heard nothing.

I was so agitated and horrified
by her terrible outbreak

that I rushed to get back to
the peace of my own room.

I was incapable of noticing
anything that happened.

Your own room, did you leave it
again before the next morning?

Yes, when they brought the poor
creature back to the house.

Did Mr. Gibson seem
to you much perturbed?

He is a very strong
self-contained man.

I do not think he would ever show
his emotions on the surface.

But you, who knew him so well.

Yes, I could see that
he was deeply concerned.

Now...

We come to the all important point.

This pistol that was found in your
room, you'd never seen it before?

Never, I swear it.

When was it found?

Next morning when the
police made their search.

Yes, among your clothes?

Yes, at the bottom of my wardrobe
in one of the drawers.

And you cannot guess how
long it had been there.

It could not have been
there the morning before

because I tidied out the wardrobe.

So you're suggesting that
someone came into your room

and placed it there in
order to incriminate you?

It must have been so.

When?

Well it could only
have been at mealtime

or else during the hours when I would
be in the schoolroom with the children.

As you were when
you received the note.

Yes, from that time onward
for the whole morning.

Thank you, Miss Dunbar.

Is there any other point which could
help me in my investigation?

I could think of none.

Holmes, might I have a
word with you in private?

Forgive me, Miss Dunbar.

Holmes, I'd like to put
you my case for believing

that Mr. Gibson is the
murderer of his wife.

We have a man who by
his own admission

is used to breaking people
who stand in his path,

well his wife stood in his path.

But then Miss Dunbar
rejected him. Now what better-

than to kill the one
and incriminate the other?

To kill the two birds with
the one stone, so to speak.

You don't believe that Gibson's
confession was sincere?

Wasn't it Bates who said
he was plausible and cunning?

His confession was a clever means
to put us off the scent.

Think of it like this.

He somehow discovers that
his wife has arranged a meeting.

During the day he takes
the two pistols from the box.

One he conceals in the
drawer of her wardrobe

after discharging one barrel,

which he could easily do in the woods
without attracting attention.

He is alone all that evening.

He sees Miss Dunbar return
and grasps his opportunity.

He commits the deed and flings
the murder weapon far into the lake.

Holmes.

Holmes.

Watson, I have been sluggish in mind

and wanting in that mixture of
imagination and reality

which is the basis of my art.

You have put me entirely to shame.

You'll be hearing
from me, Mr. Cummings

with the help of the god of justice
and my colleague, Dr. Watson.

I will give you a case that
will make England ring.

Miss Dunbar you have my assurance
that the clouds are lifting

and the light of truth
is breaking through.

Come, Watson, come.

We need our good friend Sergeant
Coventry, a ball of stout twine,

and a grappling hook.

Grappling hook?

Watson, I have some recollection

that you go armed on these
little excursions of ours.

Just as well for you that I do.

More than once my revolver
has been a good friend to you.

You have little care
of your own safety.

Yes, I am inclined to be
absent minded in these matters.

Do you have your revolver on you?

It's heavy, remarkably heavy.

Solid bit of work.

You know I believe this is going
to have a very intimate connection

with the mystery that we're investigating.
Would you mind unloading it?

Will you be at home
this evening, Mr. Gibson?

I shall have some news for you.

You have half a day, Mr. Holmes.

You have seen me miss
my mark before, Watson.

I have an instinct for such things,

but it has sometimes
played me false.

We can but try, will you both
stand exactly where the body lay?

Your theory about the gold king
though admirable in its psychology

did not quite adhere to the facts.

Visualize yourself in
the character of a woman

who in a cold premeditated fashion
is about to get rid of her rival.

I mean of course, Mrs. Maria Gibson.

For all your deductions about Gibson
being the perpetrator of this crime,

substitute his wife.
Imagine that it was she-

who took the pistols
from the gun room,

who fired the single
shot in the woods,

who placed the gun in
Miss Dunbar's wardrobe.

Cold, crafty,

premeditated,
down to the last detail.

Was it ever an exact demonstration?

My revolver, Holmes.

A vindictive woman,

a creature of the tropics,
passionate, ill-balanced.

Disguising her own
crime and fostering

a charge of murder
upon an innocent victim.

You have helped a
remarkable woman, Holmes,

and a formidable man.

And if it seems that unlikely
they should join forces?

Naturally, I would wish them well.

Magnanimous of you, Watson.