Original subtitles

The dreadful case of the blood crucifer...

...occurred in London in 1887...

...and formed one of the most painful and alarming episodes...

...in my long association with Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Nothing could ever eclipse in my mind the horror of those events...

...which honesty compels me now to add to these chronicles.

If in future years some other eye should read this memoir...

...it will, I hope, become apparent...

...why I myself consider it best to leave unpublished...

...in the recital of my friend's outstanding cases...

...the heart of this appalling story.

It began 30 years before in India...

...during the great mutiny at the Red Fort of Agra...

...the besieged stronghold of the Mogul emperors.

Damn you, Ross, I'm talking about money. I need 50 rupees tonight.

Whatever for? You can't go anywhere.

Please, Ali, just 50. Be a brick.

Is there a race in the fort tonight?

At midnight, in the square of the old quarter.

I find it peculiar in the extreme...

...that these Indians can so easily arrange a horse race...

...in the middle of a revolutionary uprising.

There's a superb pony called Tally Dallah. I know I can double my money.

Look, Nelly, you can't go off duty this evening.

You and I must watch over 25 gates until sunrise.

- That's it. - Just let me slip off for an hour later.

My dear fellow, there's a war on.

The rebels won't come near this fort. Not with Wazir Khan on the hill.

Don't be naive.

Wazir Khan will bolt and join the pandies at the first opportunity.

But he's our maharajah. He's devoted to us.

Sir.

Fall in there.

Name?

Small, sir. Jonathan Small.

Everything in order, Private Small?

I beg your pardon. It's my first night on the gates...

...and I feel a bit beef-witted about it all, if you know what I mean.

Could you tell me which gate is this, in case of trouble?

We're here.

The fort has 100 gates.

We've just over a hundred white men.

So it was decided that one British soldier and two natives...

...should be posted at each gate.

If you need any help, fire your rifle and we will come.

If any badmash comes through your gate, shoot to kill.

Sir.

Very well, I will inspect your men.

For inspection, attention.

Greetings, illustrious buckle on the great belt of Queen Victoria.

I'm Major Alistair Ross.

Hello.

Inspiration of the beef-witted.

Talk sense to the officers. Tell him your name.

Ah! I'm Durga Dass, loyalty boy of 41st.

And this is Wali Dad. He's Afghan.

Also, he is witless.

Well... Well...

- This man's mad. - The man's a mute, sir, but he's all right.

We should replace him. He's not competent.

No, do not take him away. He's powerful.

- I can prove it. - How?

This mutiny...

...if you know the name of the leader of the rebels...

...give it to Wali Dad.

He will dispatch a sending and kill him.

- Major, I must apologize for this... - No, no, no. I'm intrigued.

A sending is a horrible arrangement.

A curse sent by a chamar or wizard.

It may be as insignificant as a piece of paper...

...or as deadly as a man without a face.

A man without a face?

Leper, sir.

Chamars of the skin-hide caste can dispatch a sending...

...which will lie on the breast of their enemy by night and kill him...

...like a tombstone, sahib.

Good God. It gives me the willies.

Wali Dad is a chamar.

Let him send a sending for you.

Perhaps it will end the mutiny.

The god of vengeance will assist.

You filthy devil.

Don't bring your pagan gods into this.

- Private, I could have you shot. - Sir, you mustn't abuse my men.

St. Claire!

I must apologize for this officer.

You all right, Private Small?

Yes, major.

Now, we will finish our rounds and then I shall put you on report.

Carry on.

Come along, Nelly. You'll miss your horse race.

You're such an ass.

India has an uncanny way of bringing out extremes in people.

Shh! Be still, sahib. Be still.

So you can talk.

And you can listen, or you can die.

Have you joined the rebels?

- I'll call for the officers. - They will not come unless a rifle's fired.

But do not concern yourself. The fort is safe enough.

Then what do you want?

I have no money.

I have a Waterbury watch. You can have that.

I have over a million pounds in jewels. You can have that.

What do you ask of me?

I ask you to be rich.

Listen, Wazir Khan...

...the mascot maharajah, has joined the rebels.

The English do not know.

He has made plans that come what might, he will keep his fortune.

All the most precious stones and choicest pearls that he owns...

...he has put into a chest.

It is worth a fortune, sahib.

He sends it by a trusted servant here this night to hide in the old quarter.

This servant waits not 200 yards from where you lie, sahib Small.

Out there.

- This is fantasy. - No.

It is kismet.

The kismet that happens only once in a hundred years.

And what happens to the trusted servant?

Durga Dass will cut his throat.

Say now, sahib, are you with us or forever be silent?

All right.

I'm with you.

Swear it.

I swear I am with you, heart and soul.

You see that we trust you.

Walk now, Durga Dass, and bring Lal Singh to the gate.

Come.

That's not Lal Singh, it's a leper.

A man without a face. Man without a face.

The sending.

Christ in heaven.

Christ. The officers will come.

Do not think. Pray. Meditate.

It's a sending. It's upon me, Wali Dad.

I'm untouchable.

Listen to me. This is no curse.

The maharajah tricked you.

He sent a leper with the treasure because he knew no one would touch a leper.

But I have touched the leper.

I am cursed.

I've lost my caste.

Polluted, untouchable.

Quickly. Take the chest outside the gate.

I'll drag him away as far as I can. Don't speak when the officers come.

Stop where you are!

Who fired that shot?

Private Small, who is this man?

He tried to come through the gate, sir.

God almighty, it's a leper.

What is he holding?

The maharajah's joined the rebels, sir.

He sent all his jewels to the fort to hide them.

They're in that chest. Crafty bugger sent a leper.

These two were gonna kill him and keep the treasure.

And what share did they offer you?

As you say, sir.

Are you prepared to spend the next 20 years of your life...

...on the Andaman Islands?

I understand there is going to be a particularly nasty prison.

I'm prepared for anything, sir.

- There must be a million in that chest. - More.

Perhaps there is another way to deal with this situation.

It must include all five of us, major.

Of course.

What's the matter with him?

Come on, man. We're not gonna hurt you.

Jesus, he's killed himself.

He said there was a curse.

Let me have that.

Give them the chest.

You have no choice.

I'll look after you. Trust me.

- They will kill us, sahib. - No, I have a way.

Give them the chest.

It's no good, is it?

You can speak.

I speak too well.

In this India of white voices...

...it's best to be silent and listen.

You were very convincing.

Do not flatter me, sahib.

What's the matter, man? We're not going to hurt you.

You mean there's room for me in your plans?

Of course.

Strange.

The bloom of the peach orchard is upon all the valley.

And here, it is only dust.

And a great stink.

Oh, come along, man.

We're in this together.

Together?

Are my eyes clouded?

The treasure is yours.

But why?

Why?

Because white-faced pariahs cannot be trusted with brown skin.

- Kill him! - No!

Done.

- What about Small? - Yes.

Why share three ways?

Christ, Ali.

Three deaths already.

This curse business, do you think there's anything in it?

Will you look on your future, Nelly?

- Shall I open it? - I'm afraid.

Of what?

It will be empty.

Some people say there's no romance in India.

These people are wrong.

All the stars of heaven in a box.

And it's ours, Nelly, yours and mine.

Put it down.

- Where's Wali Dad? Dead.

Oh, Christ.

Well, we couldn't let him carry this tale to his friends.

You can't trust the bloody natives.

That's the trouble, isn't it?

Can I trust you?

Can you trust me?

For all that, can you trust each other?

Unpleasant thought, isn't it?

Of course, there is a way.

What do you propose?

A covenant. An oath.

You mean a paper?

A paper stating: "We, the undersigned, have committed two murders...

...and caused a suicide while acquiring a great fortune...

...but in future we will try in every way to be kind to each other"?

Put our names to something like that?

- I don't want your names. - What then?

I want your blood.

- Our blood? - Aye.

A blood oath, captain.

An oath sworn in your own blood...

...which you break on the peril of your immortal soul.

That's sacrilegious. You're as mad as the natives.

Will you do it?

The guard will be coming soon. They'll have heard the shot.

Yes or no?

Alistair, don't do it.

Be quiet.

It's the only way.

It's perverse.

Makes me sick. It's evil.

You will find if you wanna make any money in this world...

...it is not always wise to be disturbed by what we call evil.

And you want money, Nelly.

It's all you ever want.

Do it.

Now...

...what shall we swear?

Move on.

Are you going to kill me?

You seem to be quite capable of accomplishing that without my assistance.

You're developing a certain vein of pawky humor, Watson...

...against which I must learn to guard myself.

Sorry, I...

I was officiating at a foot race for medical students in Pimlico.

I quite forgot I had it in my hand.

The post's here.

You know where it goes.

Holmes, I must speak with you.

I feel I can hold out no longer.

I see. You wish to try it?

Try it, indeed.

I have more respect for my constitution than to place that kind of strain upon it.

I suppose you're right.

I find it, however, so clarifying to the mind...

...that its secondary disruptive action is of small moment.

Is it? Count the cost?

I speak here as a medical man.

There is a pathological and morbid process which involves tissue destruction...

...and will, at last, lead to a permanent disability.

- Surely the price is too high. - My mind rebels at stagnation.

I abhor the dull routine of existence.

I am frustrated, Watson.

- That is not the solution. - Nonsense.

Give me work.

Give me the most abstruse cryptogram, the most intricate analysis...

...and I am in my own proper atmosphere.

Then I can dispense with artificial stimulation.

Would you think me impertinent if I were to put your theory to the test?

I should be delighted.

This watch has recently come into my possession.

Perhaps you'll give me your opinion as to the character and habits...

...of the late owner.

Well, there are hardly any data.

The watch has been recently cleaned, which robs me of my most important facts.

You're right, it was cleaned before it came into my possession.

That is, however, a most lame and impotent excuse to cover your failure.

I make no excuse.

This is a 50-guinea watch. Hence, it belonged to a gentleman.

He was, alas, possessed of most untidy habits.

He was left with good prospects but he threw away his chances.

Lived for some time in poverty, with occasional intervals of prosperity...

...until finally, taking to drink, he died.

The watch, in fact, belonged to your elder brother.

This is unworthy of you, Holmes.

You've obviously studied the history of my unhappy brother...

...and you now pretend to deduce these facts in some sort of fancy...

My dear friend, I do apologize.

I'd forgotten how personal and painful a thing this might be to you.

Believe me, I never even knew you had a brother until you handed me that watch.

Then how on earth did you get these facts?

They're absolutely correct in every particular.

- No, this was not guesswork. - I never guess.

It's a shocking habit, destructive to the logical faculty.

I began by stating that your brother was careless.

Look at the lower part of that watch case.

It's cut and marked all over...

...from the habit of keeping other objects, such as coins and keys, in the same pocket.

Now, open the case.

In England, when a pawnbroker takes a watch...

...he customarily scratches the number of the ticket in the inside of the case.

There are no fewer than four such numbers visible to my lens.

Inference, your brother was often at low water...

...but he had occasional bursts of prosperity or he could not have redeemed his watch.

Now look at the back plate.

There are hundreds of scratches all around the keyhole.

Marks where the key has slipped.

You will never see a drunkard's watch without them.

He winds it at night...

...and leaves these traces of his unsteady hand.

Lastly, you said the watch had come into your possession.

Meaning you did not buy it.

The initials H.W. on the back suggest your family name.

If the watch was left to you...

...since your father has been dead these many years...

...it can only be from your late brother. Where's the mystery in all this?

Well... Oh, I apologize, Holmes.

I should've had more faith in your marvelous faculty.

I am the slave of my faculty.

I am a brain, Watson.

The rest of me is a mere appendix.

However, the young woman who is about to visit us...

...may prove interesting.

What?

How did you...?

I beg your pardon, gentlemen.

My name is Irene St. Claire.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

This is Dr. Watson. My particular friend is well...

Oh, Miss St. Claire.

Thank you, Dr. Watson.

Please forgive me, gentlemen. I have been frightened out of my wits.

Indeed, that is most gratifying...

Most interesting.

Miss St. Claire, if you please, take a moment or two to compose yourself.

I have read of your exploits, Mr. Holmes.

But I feared you would not wish to be of service to me.

Because you have no money.

Miss St. Claire, I beg you, lay everything before us.

As to reward, my profession is its own reward...

...and my expenses are largely defrayed for the moment.

My last client was a sort of king.

Miss St. Claire, would you like a cup of tea? You're shivering.

Not from cold.

What, then?

Fear, Dr. Watson. Terror.

This arrived in the post yesterday morning.

Hm. Curious.

Dated 1857.

Exactly 30 years ago.

The thing is innocent enough. It might be the work of a child.

But when my father opened it, he fell unconscious to the floor.

I put him in his bed. He would not talk about it.

That evening, I heard him scream.

I ran to his room and found him cowering in the corner...

...muttering over and over again something about a curse.

It was pitiful.

And then I saw it.

Please go on. What did you see?

Hanging on the outside of the window, a hideous shadow.

Like a large cross stretched out over the pane.

It was too small to be a man, and yet I am sure that it was real.

Then it vanished.

Gentlemen, I am not an hysteric.

And I am not superstitious.

I saw what I saw.

- I believe you absolutely, Miss St. Claire. - Oh, thank heaven.

This morning, Mr. Holmes, when I looked in his room, my father was gone.

Indeed?

And you have no idea as to the significance of this paper?

None.

It breaks my heart to think of him alone and terrified, wandering in the fog.

Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes, I...

I hope you will not turn me away.

My dear young woman, why should we do that?

My father is an opium addict.

I'm sorry to hear that.

That is how the little money we have has been spent.

Dr. Watson, I love my father.

Something happened to him long ago that permanently affected his heart and mind.

- And it was this that drove him to opium. - That drove him to addiction.

You know there are places in the East End where one may go to breathe in the poison.

Indeed, Miss St. Claire. Limehouse.

But how can a man without money support such a habit?

There is a Major Alistair Ross who lives at Maidenhead...

...in a gloomy house called Pondicherry Lodge.

He knew my father from the army.

Whenever we find ourselves reduced to our last farthing, he goes to him...

...and returns with 5 or 10 pounds.

Would you excuse me, Miss St. Claire? I should like to examine this paper.

I keep one or two chemicals that might throw light in its origins.

I'll be grateful if you did.

Well...

I hope your mind is more at ease now, Miss St. Claire.

Thank you, Dr. Watson.

Miss St. Claire, your honesty and...

And your courage in the face of adversities...

...which would drive ordinary young women mad...

...fill me with awe.

- You're extraordinary. I do not wish to be extraordinary.

I wish I were a simpleton without any care in the world.

Forgive me. What can you think of me?

It just occurred to me that I have no friends, sir.

I find myself seeking help from two perfect strangers.

Until this moment, I at least had my pride.

And you have it still.

Your eyes are kind.

Is that so rare?

Dr. Watson.

I have seen eyes that threaten like loaded pistols.

But yours...

Miss St. Claire, will you call me John...

...and think of me as your friend?

Miss St. Claire.

- Did your father serve in India? - Yes, Mr. Holmes.

How did you guess that?

Well, you mentioned another military man, Major Ross.

And this paper is Indian papyrus.

My dear, I do not wish to alarm you...

...but I think we should leave for Pondicherry Lodge at once.

Your father may have sought out his former comrade.

And if not, we still may find a clue to his whereabouts.

If we can just catch the 3:27 from Paddington...

...we'll be in Maidenhead before dark.

Mr. Holmes, you take my breath away.

It's elementary, my dear.

But this is not.

My family seems to be in the grasp of some inexorable evil.

I would almost believe that we're all cursed.

Cursed?

That is the second time you've used that word. Why?

Do you believe in the supernatural, Mr. Holmes?

I do not discount it.

When my father returned from India, he had no money.

He married my mother, Alice Napier, who had a considerable fortune.

Almost from the beginning, he gambled heavily and invested foolishly.

In a few short years, our fortune was gone.

We moved to a dingy house in Camberwell.

And last year my mother...

...was taken from us.

I'm sorry to hear that.

May I ask how she died?

In a railway accident near Crewe.

Miss St. Claire, I can understand your terror.

What do you mean?

The markings on this paper were made with blood.

Maidenhead.

Maidenhead station.

Maidenhead.

Next stop...

Pondicherry Lodge.

Major?

Major sir?

Caught!

Now, what are you about?

Just tidying up, I was, governor.

You're a fox, Birdy. You're an exceedingly cunning fox.

I will not be called a fox, damn you.

"I will not be called a fox, damn you, sir. "

Sir.

There's a lesson for you.

I won't endure this.

Oh, and what will you do about it? Run to your mother, boy? Hm?

I'm sorry, sir.

Yes. Yes, Birdy, my dear boy.

Now...

...why'd you come in here?

There's a peddler at the door, sir.

A peddler? Well, give him a shilling out of your own pocket if he moves you.

That's what these fellows come for.

He said he had something of value to sell.

- Something with jewels. - Well, bring him in. Bring him in.

Yes, sir.

This way.

- Here we are, major. - Get out, Birdy.

Good day to you, master.

You're a stranger about these parts.

Aye.

Just put ashore.

At Gravesend, from an Indian voyage.

India?

And you have something to show me, I understand.

Something with jewels?

A small casket.

Well, what's this?

It's dull workmanship.

It's not the box, it's what's inside.

- A kris. - Aye.

Bloody good workmanship.

Do you have a safe to put it in?

- What's that to you? - Nothing.

Can't be too careful these days.

What are you doing?

Looking about, sir, just looking about.

Taking stock of a gentleman's sitting room.

Not much to see, is there? In the way of display.

Not if you have to sit here all day and just look about you.

How did you lose the use of your legs, if I may be so bold to ask?

Damn your impertinence.

How'd you lose yours? Come to that.

It were chewed off.

- By what? - Greed.

- Greed? - Aye.

You know what greed is, surely.

- I think you're mad. - Aye, perhaps I am.

Perhaps I came here not to sell, but to buy.

Buy what?

Your life.

Captain St. Claire is here, sir.

- I put him in the library. - Clever boy.

You're a very clever boy.

Now then, show this man out.

But if you see him again, take a club to him.

Good day to you, master.

Get out, get out.

Bring Nelly to me.

- Hurry, boy. Hurry. - Yes, sir.

Captain St. Claire, sir.

What's the matter with you? You look terrible.

The curse, I've seen it.

A monstrous cross at my window.

It's the opium, my dear. You imagine things.

No, listen.

Yes, go away.

- Small is alive. - What?

His piece of the crucifer, it arrived yesterday.

It was posted in London.

If Small is here, he's not looking for you or me.

There's something in a treasure which fastens on a man's mind.

- Give it to him, for chrissake. - I will never give it up.

It's here, isn't it?

- In this house. - In this room.

But I gave up my share.

Yes, you took the burden of guilt from your own conscience.

I have watched over it and kept it pure.

Inviolate. Whole.

But you don't spend it. Why must you keep it?

It's the having.

The possession is my strength.

The energy of my soul, the warmth of my blood.

Why do you think my legs failed me?

I no longer needed them.

I am content to sit in this empty room like a dragon in a cave.

Here.

Night and day I've gazed upon it.

My soul has drunk its radiance.

- I don't want to see. - You're not worthy to see.

But see you must.

I beg you, put it back.

I remember your last look at it 30 years ago.

Ever since, it's been blazing in your mind.

Gathering its splendor against the moment when you look upon it again.

Let it be now.

- I won't look. - Then shade your eyes.

When I die, it will be buried with me forever.

Will it not make a rare lamp for a sepulcher?

Will it not burn brightly in a tomb?

There shall it flame for ages, keeping bright my memory.

The memory of a hero.

Get out.

There's a Mr. Sherlock Holmes to see you, governor.

Sherlock Holmes, that crack who attracts attention in the newspapers?

Major Ross, I assume, and Captain St. Claire.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

Father. My dear, let me look at you.

Sherlock Holmes, the murder fancier.

Whatever could have brought you to Maidenhead, Mr. Holmes?

Why aren't you in London, that great cesspool of crime?

Good heavens.

Nelly, is this your daughter?

Yes, Major Ross. We have met before.

Oh, but you've grown so beautiful.

What an honor.

There hasn't been a woman in this house since dear Birdy's mother left my employ.

This is my manservant, Birdy Johnson.

But I beg you not to ask him any questions.

His mind is in its original state of white paper.

Do you require anything, sir? Chairs, for a start.

They say a house is turned upside down when you enter it, Mr. Holmes.

Nothing but guessing and speculating.

Speculating and guessing.

Spare us your irony, sir. Your life may be in danger.

What do you mean by that?

Calm yourself, Major Ross. Take a pinch of your snuff.

- How do you know I use snuff? - Though you remove all traces...

...from your face with the handkerchief you keep up the sleeve of your dressing gown...

...the nail of the index finger of your right hand...

You are right handed. - is encrusted with a burgundy powder...

...which, due to its unique hue, can only be the maharani brand of snuff...

...created by the East India Company.

Come in, Mr. Johnson.

Two inches of solid oak is hardly conducive to eavesdropping.

Oh, light some candles, Birdy, for God's sake.

It's so dark in here, you can hardly see a magnifying glass in front of your face.

You fail to amuse me. Nor you me.

You say my life is in danger.

What possible reason could you have to offer for such a monstrous assertion?

Perhaps this.

Where did you get that?

- You have seen it before? - No.

I think you have.

Oh, God.

Tell me everything you know about this paper.

Why don't you deduce it for yourself?

Or is it beyond you? Have your powers failed you?

Do not fear for me, Major Ross, I beg you.

Then tell me. Amuse an old man.

What on earth do you think it can be?

Deduce, sir. Deduce.

It is a crucifer, meaning that which bears a cross.

Among the early Christians, it signified a secret oath never written down.

This one is unusual because it is drawn in blood.

There are three sets of thumbprints, also in blood...

...made whilst handling the paper.

The other side is a section of a regulation map of a fort with many gates.

Some 45 are shown here.

This is only the center.

A man of education thinks immediately of the Red Fort of Agra.

The only structure in the world with a hundred gates.

Now, it is common knowledge that you and St. Claire served during the mutiny.

So here is a desperate gesture.

An oath drawn in blood, sworn between three men in a time of revolution.

Now, Major Ross, who was the third man?

What was the oath?

Most important, should that oath be broken...

...what precisely was the curse that would ensue?

Really, Mr. Holmes...

...if you'd lived a hundred years ago, you would have been burned.

But first, before anything, I want to see your piece of it.

- My piece? - Please do not waste my time.

Captain St. Claire, yours.

An alarming object, is it not, Watson?

My word.

Now, gentlemen...

...I ask you again, who was the third man?

Jonathan Small.

What have you done, you blithering idiot?

Major Ross, I beg you.

Help us to untangle this horror.

- Can we not all be friends? Friends?

I learned about friends in India from a pack of snarling dogs.

This dog is still alive.

Small. It's Jonathan Small.

Not dead yet?

Watson, lock that window and follow me.

Johnson, don't let anyone in or out of this room.

Quick, Watson, after him.

- Will you be all right? - Yes, I'm not afraid.

Watson. Hurry, man.

I'm coming. Coming!

Watson, I fear we've been tricked.

Irene? - I'm here, father.

Light some candles, Birdy, for God's sake.

Oh, God.

The sending. The curse. It's...

Who's there? Birdy?

Oh, God help us.

Nelly.

Damn you traitorous people.

Birdy, where are you?

Who's there?

Nelly! Damn it.

Who's...? Who's there?

Birdy, where are you?

He's been watching all the time. He knows where it is.

You cannot have it. It is mine.

Mine!

Mine!

How much longer must we wait?

Holmes has sent for Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

We must give him our evidence as to the details of this terrible murder.

And then we can go to London and look for your father.

- I hope we're not too late. So do I.

Inspector Lestrade, this is my client, Miss St. Claire.

How do you do, miss?

Watson. Nasty business, this. Nasty business.

We'll get the investigation out of the way as soon as possible. Don't you worry.

- So you can leave this dreary place. - Whatever I can do, inspector.

Cor blimey.

Spare your comments, Hopkins.

Right, so this is Major Alistair Ross.

I hope you haven't moved anything, Holmes.

I don't think it wise for you to go home.

I suggest you come back with us to Baker Street for tonight.

That's a splendid idea.

She can have my room, and I'll sleep in the sitting room.

I don't want to cause you any bother. I just want to find my father.

Now, do you have any idea where your father's gone?

Yes.

I fear he's gone to Limehouse.

To an opium den.

My work has taken me to such places before...

...and I have one or two favors owed me there.

I've examined the room and the body.

And from what you said before about what happened when the phantom appeared...

...I would say it's all very simple.

Really?

Yes, all this talk of revenge and curses has put you all on edge.

When Small appeared at the window, it frightened everybody.

The room being darkened frightened everybody some more.

The lightning threw the shadow of that pollard lime tree into the room.

That's your evil spirit.

Now, this man Ross was ill. Very ill, judging from his wheelchair.

There are no marks on the body, so obviously he died of a heart seizure.

I'm afraid you've all been the victims of a common hallucination...

...brought on by a pollard lime tree.

- Let me congratulate you. Thank you.

You've managed to miss every detail of importance.

- I beg your pardon? - Beginning with the victim.

You failed to notice the two very small punctures on either side of the neck.

I did notice. He was obviously a careless shaver.

Fancy. Is this his razor?

What's that? Looks like a thorn.

It is a thorn.

Poisoned beyond question.

- Poisoned? Precisely.

Yeah, but what does it mean?

It means murder, Lestrade. What do you think it means?

Watson, just push your hand here in this poor fellow's arm.

What do you feel?

The muscles are as hard as a board. Extreme contraction.

- Far more than the usual rigor mortis. - Quite so.

Now, coupled with this distortion of the face, what does that suggest to you?

Death from some powerful vegetable alkaloid.

Some substance like strychnine, which would produce tetanus.

Excellent, Watson. You really are invaluable.

Now, examine this thorn.

Hopkins.

Is that an English thorn?

- I'm not an expert on thorns, Holmes. - Quite right.

Now, a few moments after Small appeared at this window...

...Watson and I saw him escape in the cab that brought us here.

...at what must've been the exact moment of the murder.

Must have been somebody else involved.

- A very abled and efficient ally. - Go on.

To begin with, how came he into the room?

Johnson was guarding the door, this window was locked.

Yes, I locked it myself.

Did you?

- Yes. But even open...

...the window is too small for a man to come through.

Thank you, Miss St. Claire. Now, look here.

The muddy prints of naked feet.

Clear, well-defined, perfectly formed.

Yet scarce half the size of those of an ordinary man.

Good God, Holmes.

Do you mean to say a child has done this dreadful thing?

Oh, my dear Lestrade.

With all these data, you should be able to draw some just inference.

Diminutive footmarks. Naked feet.

Great agility, poisoned darts.

- A savage. - Superb, Watson.

An Indian who was associated with Small during the mutiny.

A savage certainly, but not, I think, an Indian.

These darts, too, could only be shot in one way.

Through a blowpipe.

Now then, Lestrade. Where do we find our savage?

How the hell should I know?

The Andaman Islands, 440 miles west of Rangoon in the Bay of Bengal.

The aborigines of the Andaman Islands...

...are among the smallest races on this earth.

The Andaman Islands are also the largest British prison in India.

Small has obviously been there since the mutiny.

He must've been befriended by one of the pygmy islanders...

...who helped him to escape from that hell hole.

Why, it's remarkable.

It's elementary.

What we are concerned with here is motive.

Our pygmy was carrying something rather heavy when he left this room.

There are footprints in the garden up to the window at about half an inch deep.

Those going away are fully an inch.

And this chair has a hidden compartment.

- Good grief. - Now empty.

These things would be apparent to you if you would use your eyes.

I was gonna look at that chair.

- What do you make of it? - I don't know what I make of it.

That is because you failed to grasp the most apparent clue.

The crucifer.

Two officers in command of a fort in India...

...swear a sacred and secret oath drawn in blood with this man Small.

Size and weight of what could be concealed in this chair...

...would lead one to conclude that they had stolen an invaluable treasure.

Small helps them to secure the treasure and they betray him.

But this is mere theory.

It is the only hypothesis which covers the facts.

But the case is not complete.

This murder could not have been committed without help from inside the house.

There are two punctures on Ross' neck but only one dart.

Someone inside this house unlocked that window and retrieved the dart.

I have it. I have it.

The manservant, Johnson. There's no one else.

You mean the butler did it? Really, Lestrade.

- Or her father. - Oh, God.

There's no reason why St. Claire and Small shouldn't form themselves into an alliance...

...to revenge themselves on Ross and recover the treasure.

If that were true, I never would allow the treasure to remain in our family.

- After the havoc it has caused. - I'm happy to hear you say that.

- The treasure belongs to the crown. Yes.

But where is it?

- Small has it. I would like to see it.

I'd like to look on that thing that ruined the lives of everyone around me.

I assure you, once we've recovered it...

...you shall gaze upon it to your heart's content.

I am very worried for my father.

Then let's leave for Baker Street at once.

Come along, Lestrade. We have work to do.

I must know what happened that night at Agra.

What was the curse? Why was the crucifer left on Ross' body?

What I should like to know is whether or not Watson locks the window.

You will agree your whole guess about an accomplice rather rests on that point.

I never guess. Dr. Watson's a sterling fellow.

If he says he locked the window, he locked it.

He is not a mental deficient like some members of the Metropolitan Police.

Hopkins.

Oh. Miss St. Claire...

...would you stay a moment, please?

What is it, Dr. Watson?

I... I wish you'd call me John.

Yes, John.

Just that don't concern yourself about the future.

I hope you'll let me help you.

I should be proud to be responsible for you.

I mean...

I know I'm an old campaigner.

God, I don't know what I'm saying, I...

I'm all feelings.

How kind you are.

It's just that...

I mean...

- I... - Oh, John.

It's been an amazing day. We've...

We've been hurled into each other's lives with the force of a hurricane.

I don't understand any of the things I feel.

I owe you and Mr. Holmes my sanity, possibly my life.

You're a man of such delicacy, I'm...

I'm sure you understand.

Watson, what are you about?

Well, yes.

Yes, well, of course I do, I quite understand.

Come, let us go at...

What is it?

It's the crucifer. I...

Holmes said it was the most important clue, I...

- I wonder if I should take it with us. - No.

Leave it.

That is where it belongs.

Yes.

Where am I?

You are in the Gate of a Hundred Sorrows, Captain St. Claire.

What time is it?

To answer your question, it is past midnight.

To answer your need, it is time for another pipe.

When did I come here?

Last evening.

It's hard to keep count of the time in the Gate.

Long time ago...

...I had a wife of sorts.

But she's dead now.

People say I killed her by taking the black smoke.

I murdered my wife, or so they tell me.

My wife was a good woman.

There was nothing good about Madam Fung Tching.

She was very dirty hill-coolie woman with goiter.

Besides perpetual good health...

...she had discovered the secret of perpetual bad temper.

At this time, I own a spice shop in Calcutta.

One night, they tell me I filled her full of red pepper...

...and hung her from a beam in the Babu Mosque.

A murder in the Indian manner.

A man needs no wife if he is married to opium.

Am I dead, by any chance?

Why do you speak of death?

I came here to die.

Why is that?

I must join my friend, Major Ross.

He died last night.

An angel is coming for me.

A peg-legged angel.

Is this the angel who comes for you?

Father.

How long have you been here?

We must hang up a large black jar outside our window...

...to ward off the evil eye.

Yes, we'll do it now. Let us go home to Camberwell.

No, I can't. I started a pipe.

When it is finished...

...the dragons will move about and fight.

- What is that? - This is my coffin.

I brought it all the way from China with me.

When I die, it will go back to China...

...with me and two ounces of black smoke inside.

In case I should want some on the way.

What are we to do? - I don't know.

Holmes said we should wait for him here.

This filthy place should be closed.

You should be put in prison.

My pipe's gone out.

I will light it.

No, please. He's half mad already.

For God's sake, man.

Can't you help us to get this poor fellow out of here?

That is the last thing I shall help you to do, Watson.

Very last.

- Holmes. - Shh. Keep your voice down.

How'd you come to be here?

The real Fung Tching is a friend of mine.

Now, listen carefully. Lestrade and his police are watching the streets.

That sewer leads to a wharf. There's a policeman out there.

I've had word that Jonathan Small is checking all the opium dens.

- When he comes, I will be waiting. - What do you want me to do?

Take Miss St. Claire upstairs to the slop house that fronts this sordid place.

But don't eat anything.

Do not come back here until I send for you. I want no distractions.

Dr. Watson... John, please, look at him. His breathing is so irregular.

Have you spoken to Wali Dad about the pony's knees?

Now then, captain.

India's 3000 weary miles away.

I served there too, you know.

That's where I got that gammy leg.

Jezail bullet.

Is he all right, doctor?

Oh, yes, he...

He'll be right as rain in a few hours. Yes.

Father, it is dangerous if you remain here. You must come away with me now.

Oh, no, my dear.

I'm so afraid of dying in the open.

Father, I beg you.

If I can attain heaven with a pipe, why should you be envious?

Heaven?

That is not what I see in your face.

I see the spring of your will unwound like a broken clock.

I cannot bear to look at you like this.

Here. Smoke yourself to death!

My dear, my dear.

Are you all right?

I've never spoken to him like that.

Now, you're completely exhausted.

But there's no need to worry.

He's perfectly safe.

Holmes is with him.

What do you mean?

Come upstairs and we'll...

We'll try and get a cup of tea in that filthy cafe.

I'll explain everything.

My wife.

She died at midnight from the heat.

You were about to tell me the story of that piece of paper.

My pipe's gone out.

Tell me the story. I will light it for you.

Chinaman. - Oh, damn.

You are well, Mr. Birdy.

How long have I been here?

You brought the captain here last evening.

Oh, Christ.

How can I face her?

How can I tell her?

I've got to get home to my mother right away.

What should I do?

Hide her in the fort.

It lies between the coppersmith's gully...

...and the pipe-stem seller's quarter by the mosque of Wazir Khan.

I have a map.

This is the Agra Fort.

And what happened that night at the Agra Fort?

He cursed us.

What was the curse?

He said if we betrayed him...

Holmes.

- Holmes. - For the love of God.

Holmes.

Holmes?

Come to the fire. Warm your hands.

I will prepare a pipe for you.

I don't want any of your filthy poison, thank you.

Where is Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Have you drugged him?

I warn you, I'll close down this den of iniquity.

You have no little vices, Inspector Lestrade?

For an Oriental, you are very impertinent.

No, I have no little vices.

One big vice in a man leaves no room for smaller ones.

I refer to stupidity.

How dare you.

For the love of God, man.

Can't you see I'm trying to get St. Claire to talk?

Holmes, you gave me quite a turn. Was that your voice?

What do you want?

I've solved the case, Holmes.

I know who helped Small.

Look at this.

A signed statement from Birdy Johnson's mother.

Some years ago, she robbed Ross of some trifling silverware.

He forced a confession out of her, sent it to his solicitor...

...with instructions to get it to the police in case anything should happen to him.

Johnson must have hated him.

He was the one that opened the window. He was the one that stole the thorn.

Johnson was Small's accomplice.

So the butler did do it after all.

Oh, no, it's too late now. It is too late!

- It is too late! - How long has he been there?

Good God, you're going to let him escape? After him.

Holmes. For God's sake, man.

Go upstairs to the cafe. I think Irene has been poisoned.

How on earth...?

- Lestrade, why are you standing there? - Right.

Watson, you stay here with St. Claire.

- I will see to his daughter. - Holmes, wait, wait.

- Stay here. - Wait, wait, I...

I... Okay.

Hopkins, get after him, man.

- Go on, get after him. Okay.

This way! Come on.

Get after him. Move it.

Alice, her mother, died violently.

I filled her full of red pepper.

Captain, I thought you were asleep.

No one will light my pipe.

Why don't you go to sleep?

The moon has gone out.

The caravans go up and the caravans go down.

And a hundred fires sparkle in the pass.

Now... Now, wait...

Now it is quiet.

Now I can dream.

Ross.

Ross, is that you?

Nelly.

- Ross. - Nelly.

Come with me.

Where are we going?

To the entrance.

The entrance to the old quarter.

We must stop Small as he comes out before he has time to hide the treasure.

Then we'll turn him in for the murder of Wali Dad and Durga Dass.

He'll spend the rest of his life on the Andaman Islands.

Oh, no.

No.

Kill him!

Tell him about your leg.

It were torn off in a river.

Some water beast.

Shark or croc.

Then me eye became infected.

One day it just...

...rolled out in me hand.

Oh, God.

God. God.

- God. - Well, I'll leave you two alone.

Must have so much to talk about.

Goodbye, Nelly.

Ali, wait. Don't go.

Please.

Tell me, what's it like being dead?

You know, it's amazing to find oneself still in the swing of things.

I like it.

Ali.

Jonathan Small.

You have broken your oath.

You know what must follow.

- The curse. - Aye.

- The curse. - Yes.

I'm glad to see you.

Do me the courtesy to light my pipe...

...and then kill me.

With pleasure, captain.

I shall lie back now...

...and watch the red and gold dragons have their last big fight together.

From the night through the day...

...and into the night again, I shall sleep.

And be the master of my dreams.

Come.

A good, stout puff.

Puff out the very bottom of your heart, if any heart you have.

Take it.

Cover me. It's over.

God have mercy on your soul.

Let's go. Hurry, man.

I've been outwitted, Lestrade.

I fear the worst.

Is she all right?

Drugged.

The pot of tea was still on the table.

Laced with a great deal of Alwa opium.

She will be herself in a few hours.

Did you catch Johnson?

No. No, he got away. Fast runner, he was.

But not to worry.

- I sent my men after him. - All your men?

Including the one who was watching the wharf?

Watson was here, wasn't he?

If you will look there, Lestrade, you will see that Watson is unconscious.

Drugged, I don't doubt, with the same pot of tea.

Well, no harm done.

I mean, everything seems to be in order.

Perfect order, for the killer.

The drugging created a splendid diversion that gave Small time to slip in here...

...and murder St. Claire.

- St. Claire dead? - See for yourself, is he breathing?

This is very awkward, Holmes, I must say.

Right under our noses, as it were.

Oh, God.

- What...? What happened? - Are you rational, man?

Yeah, I... Yeah, I think so.

My God, I... I fell asleep.

That lascar brute put opium pills in your teapot.

Irene.

Unpleasant experience for a young girl but by no means fatal.

Well?

Why, Holmes, you're wrong, I'm afraid.

No signs of violence here.

There are no prick marks or anything like that.

This man was not murdered.

Again.

What does it mean?

Why were these men tyrannized by scraps of paper?

Holmes.

It's the same symptoms as Major Ross.

And look here, blood.

Another thorn.

This one was inserted in the stem of his pipe.

One good puff drew it into his mouth.

Watson, take Miss St. Claire and bring her to the wharf.

We'll find a policeman to take her to Baker Street.

- Lestrade, there's not a moment to lose. Right.

Come along, man. - Yeah, but where are we going?

May I remind you, Lestrade, that Small has finished his work.

My God, the treasure.

Order up your steam-launch and have them meet us at the wharf in 15 minutes.

Small will almost certainly be in a rowboat.

But it will still be a damn close-run thing.

Rest. Rest here.

Father.

Father.

I'm... I'm here.

You must advise me.

Gladly.

I think I have fallen in love.

While I've been away?

Even so.

Plunge must have been very deep.

It was...

...as deep as a well.

Why do you love him?

Oh, he's rare and so kind.

Kindness, it's so old-fashioned.

It has a habit of coming back...

...every now and then, when it's least expected.

What...?

What's his name?

His name?

His name is John.

John.

Oh, my dear.

Got too much of a start on us, Holmes.

I can't see anything in this.

- We'll never catch him. - We must catch him.

Pour it on, stoker.

Even if we burn the boat, we must have him.

Constable, you must hold your course. South by southeast with this current.

South by southeast, sir.

Small's best chance is to get out of the country with the treasure.

If we can come up with him before he boards his ship...

How can you be so certain he's going to escape by sea?

Lestrade, we are an island nation.

But how do you know which harbor he has gone to and which ship?

While the real Fung Tching was watching St. Claire...

...I went to Gravesend, our most sordid port.

A pound note there will buy you all the information you could ask for.

People tend to remember a one-legged man traveling with a pygmy.

They booked passage on a schooner...

...called the Gloria Scott, docked at Greenwich.

Police.

Stop in the name of the crown.

Stop in the name of the crown.

Keep off!

Keep off, damn you, until I finish me work.

Keep away.

Look out.

No!

Go ahead and fire.

Life don't mean nothing to me.

Let the sea take this poison.

Well done.

- Hopkins, bring us alongside the bow. Yes, sir.

All right, come on, alongside.

Get a line on her.

Come on, move it, move it.

Hopkins, follow me.

Yes, sir. Right behind you.

Jonathan Small...

...I arrest you for the willful murder of Alistair Ross and Neville St. Claire.

Aye. I reckon their deaths lie on my soul, right enough.

For God's sake, man...

...is it drowned?

Is the chest in the sea?

Yes, it is.

Who are you? - I'm Sherlock Holmes.

Oh, you're the clever one.

I knew it weren't him.

You led me a merry chase, Mr. Holmes.

May I repay the complement, Mr. Small.

Would you answer one or two questions?

Aye.

I should like to leave some account of the business behind me.

I don't wanna be remembered as a common cutthroat.

Who is your accomplice?

- Tonga. - The pygmy.

Yeah.

He helped me escape from the Andaman Islands.

He was a good and a crafty little devil.

I couldn't kill Ross until I knew where the treasure was.

Tonga sat in the tree all day and watched until he found out.

Then I got you gentlemen out of the room, and Tonga killed him.

But who helped you? Who unlocked the window?

Who retrieved the dart?

No one, we had plenty.

You mean, there was no accomplice inside the house?

No, of course not.

Who opened the window?

I don't know what you're talking about.

What was the curse?

He who broke the oath would die by the others' hand...

...that his piece of the oath should lie on his own dead breast.

So that's why you put St. Claire's piece on his body.

I didn't.

- You didn't? - No.

He just looked on and died.

- I left the crucifer on the floor. - You didn't kill him?

No. No, I swear it.

Good God, man.

What have you done?

He stabbed himself. Oh, dear.

My task is done.

And done well.

Where's my piece of the crucifer?

- You have it about you? - I do.

Give it to me, Mr. Holmes.

Let me die under it as the others did.

A trinity of stupid men.

Aye.

The bloody sign for greed.

God rest his soul.

Indeed.

Told me what he knew.

It's not enough, there's something else.

Something more.

Mr. Johnson.

Where is Holmes?

There's no one here.

I mean, they will be back soon.

It's just as well.

You are the one I wanna talk to, miss.

Oh, yes.

About what?

I want you to help me.

- How? - Not in here, miss.

The police may come. They're looking for me, you know.

But what do you want of me?

Are there other rooms where we might have a little chat?

Friendly-like.

This will do.

Will you excuse me a moment, gentlemen?

I'm just going to look in on Miss St. Claire.

Holmes, you haven't said a word for over an hour.

We just have to catch Birdy Johnson and the case is complete.

Is it?

It strikes me as a trifle too obvious.

I have formed no conclusion whatever.

I have.

And it now proves correct.

Consider the facts, Holmes.

Johnson is present at both murders.

He holds open the window at the lodge, thus aiding the pygmy.

He lures the police away from the opium den, thus aiding Small.

You must concede, Holmes, I am a little in front of you on this occasion.

What was that noise?

That was Lestrade's little cock-a-doodle of victory.

How is Miss St. Claire?

Oh, she is asleep.

I'm sorry, I'm awfully jumpy.

That poor fellow has put me completely on edge.

Small? Why is that?

I felt he was telling the truth.

- Did you? Oh, really.

Well, they will be waiting for our statements at Scotland Yard.

Watson can stay here with the chest.

Well, I suppose it's safe enough in the home of the great detective.

Irene.

You look magnificent.

- What on earth did you...? - Thank you, John.

This gown was my mother's.

I've been saving it for a special occasion.

- Special? - It is here.

My dear, are you feeling quite yourself?

- The opium... - I am quite myself, John.

Open it.

Irene, there is something I must tell you about your father.

Open the chest first.

Well, why not.

There's been enough horror this long night.

Spill it out onto the floor.

I want to see it flung about.

Oh, God.

This is a bonny thing.

Put it down.

Irene...

...you said you were saving the dress for a special occasion.

For what occasion?

For a dream come true.

No, that's not right.

I must tell you.

My dear, your father is dead.

That is the special occasion.

No, please, you don't know what you're saying.

- Perhaps you should lie down. - Do you think I'm going mad?

Too many shocks for a young lady?

Oh, John.

The moment I walked through that door and looked into your eyes...

...I knew I could do it.

Do what?

Persuade you and Mr. Holmes to help me get what is rightfully mine.

Am I dreaming?

This will wake you.

Yes.

I opened the window at Pondicherry Lodge.

I took the other thorn out of Major Ross's neck...

...and put it into my father's pipe.

My hand was trembling...

...so that I thought I must surely pierce my own skin and die.

But by then I knew that nothing in the world could stop me.

And now...

...I am going to kill you...

...and take what I have won.

Why, you miserable wretch.

You can't hope to succeed.

You think when Holmes comes back and finds my body...

...he won't deduce what has happened?

I think not.

Birdy Johnson was kind enough to call a little while ago.

I took the liberty of killing him.

He's under your bed.

When the police arrive, this is how it will appear.

Johnson came here and broke into the basement to steal the treasure.

There was a struggle.

You stabbed him, he shot you.

Someone heard the shot and came to find a chest full of jewels.

What became of the young woman?

She vanished into the fog...

...driven mad by the death of her father...

...and the even more terrible death...

...of her lover.

You are a horror.

And you are a darling.

You are my biggest ally.

I could not have done it without you.

Yes.

You have done it.

And with my help, you've made me as miserable a creature as yourself.

If your touch is as fatal to me as to others...

...give me one last kiss of unspeakable hatred.

And let me die.

Come in, Mr. Holmes.

- Are you alone? - Yes.

I sent Lestrade ahead with the body.

- Whose body? - Small's.

Small is dead?

Well, I must say, fate seems to be smiling on me for a change.

Why did you come back? I'm curious.

My dagger.

You moved my dagger from the mantle.

I needed it.

Johnson saw me open the window at Pondicherry Lodge.

So you've killed poor Johnson and Watson as well.

You do not seem very concerned.

I am too awed by you. I can think of nothing else.

I thought you were omniscient, Mr. Holmes.

But tell me...

...surely my moving the dagger was not the only thing that gave me away.

No, no, that was merely the catalyst.

When you have eliminated the impossible...

...whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

There were others in the room when Ross was murdered.

But you were the only one who could have killed your father...

...if Small was telling the truth.

I put that thorn in Father's pipe right under your nose.

But you were too busy showing off your Chinese costume to Watson.

What was my mistake?

The crucifer.

You should not have put it in your father's body.

Small felt responsible for his death...

...but he swore he did not put the paper on his chest.

Well, no one is perfect.

You came close.

Why did you come to me in the first place?

When the crucifer arrived in the post, my father told me the whole story.

I realized that a million in jewels had been entrusted...

...to the care of three madmen.

I could not compete with them.

So I came to the great consulting detective.

I thought:

"Let him find the treasure for me...

...while I assist in every way I can to affect the curse. "

Now it is over.

And only one man stands between me and the treasure.

And I...

...have a pistol.

Fire it.

Go on, Miss St. Claire, I beg you.

Shoot me.

You have made another mistake.

This is Watson's starting pistol. He officiates at races and such.

It is loaded with blank cartridges.

But he's...

He fainted. Understandable under the circumstances.

Watson. Come, Watson.

- Up, old man. Get up. - What?

- Watch it. - Oh, God.

Oh, you cut your hand, man.

Oh, God.

Oh, I'm sorry I ruined your laboratory, old man.

Oh, God, I'm shot.

Well, Mr. Holmes...

...I must congratulate you.

Whatever shall I do now?

Think and die.

Lestrade will be back in a few minutes.

Then she'll be gone.

Is the prisoner allowed one last request?

What is it?

Let me wear something...

...just until the inspector arrives.

Why not.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

I am content.

You are an unnatural creature, Miss...

Unnatural?

Revenge is a law of human nature.

- Revenge on your own father? - He destroyed my mother.

With a pistol, a dagger, a thorn?

With greed.

With opium.

The wheel, the rack.

What are these to the last stages of that addiction?

Nature herself becomes the tormentor.

Casts down the wretch...

...searches every vein, makes a rod of every nerve.

It builds fires in the brain...

...and casts coals of living torment on the heart.

She threw herself under the wheels of a train.

Am I unnatural, gentlemen?

Case is closed.

Oh, Inspector Lestrade, thank heavens.

Comic relief.

Well, well.

Who would have believed it?

Holmes, how did you know?

Never mind, you can tell me later.

- Hopkins. - Yes, sir.

- Put those jewels in that chest. Oh, blimey.

Keep your opinions to yourself, Sergeant Hopkins.

So we have the treasure.

We have the murderer.

And we have...

...this...

...from Buckingham Palace.

"Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Empress of India, will receive...

...Inspector Lestrade at 10:00 tomorrow...

...to tender him her personal thanks and to accept from his hands...

...the great treasure of Agra. "

- Congratulations. - Oh, thank you, Holmes. Thank you.

I shall, of course, inform Her Majesty of your assistance in this matter.

Well, now, young lady.

There is a dead body in the next room.

Birdy Johnson.

Hopkins.

Holmes.

What am I gonna write in my report?

I will explain it all to you in the police wagon, inspector.

You can make notes.

Right.

And when you see the queen tomorrow, tell the old girl to be careful.

How's that?

The treasure is cursed.

It has already destroyed everyone who has touched it...

...since the leper first carried it into Agra.

But you think it might destroy Her Majesty?

And even the British Empire itself?

Give it to her and see.

She had a face...

A man might die for.

My dear old friend, there is nothing more to be said or done.

One day the story can be told.

Meanwhile, I'll fetch my violin.

We'll try to forget for half an hour the miserable ways of our fellow men.

Thank God this long night is over.

And I doubt whether I shall spend another in Baker Street.

Watson, don't go.

I'd be lost without my Boswell.

My friend.

Well?

Gentlemen, excuse me.

I am Captain Mordecai Smith.

- Are you Sherlock Holmes? - I am.

This is my best friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.

You must be tired, Captain Smith.

I perceive you have arrived only this morning from the island of Sumatra.

Why, yes, but how...?

No matter, sir.

What is your story? You are clearly terrified.

Terrified.

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

But not mad.

You would think me mad, would you not, if I told you I had seen a giant rat?

A rat, sir, as big as a large dog.

It came out of the forehold this morning just after we docked...

...and disappeared into the slums.

And it held...

...in its mouth...

Dr. Watson, would you be good enough to revive our client?

You'll find he has a touch of Namibia fever, I believe.

Come along, Watson.

The game's afoot.