All language subtitles for Sherlock Holmes s01e05 The Crooked Man.eng

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Mrs. Barclay, your tea.

All these years, how could you
do such a thing?

Your tea, madam.

Oh, I hate you, I hate you,

I hate you, I hate you.

David -

Your tea, madam.

David, you betrayed him.

Mrs. Fenning-

What's happened, what is it, child?

It's madam and the Colonel,

something awful is going on

and I can't open the door.

Here, let me try.

Stop him, both of you.

Mrs. Barclay,

Mrs. Barclay, open the door.

Mrs. Barclay, open the door.

The door is locked on the inside as well,

and there's no key.

I'm going out for a doctor,
and the police.

... There's quite a few of them

when I sailed home wounded.

Had a good record out in India,

did wonders during the Mutiny.

I'm sure you won't regret
taking the case.

Ah, sentry.

Dr. John Watson,
formerly medical officer

attached to the Royal Berkshires,

now in civilian practice.

Murphy, second in command,

temporarily in charge
of the Royal Mallows,

following the, tragedy
of our Colonel's death.

And this will be Mr. Holmes?

Please.

It's good of you to come so swiftly.

Not at all.

I have explained to Holmes
how concerned

you must be about the
possibility of a scandal.

Thank you.

The honor of the regiment is in my care.

And yet, the newspapers report suggest

that a scandal is inevitable.

Surely not.

I've done my utmost
to make sure that reporters

were kept as far away as possible.

Exactly, and that is what
has made them suspicious.

They scent a mystery, that much is clear

from the little they have
been able to say.

Surely, it would be wrong to repeat,

to draw attention to -

Quite.

You see how much we need
your help, Mr. Holmes.

What do you say, Holmes?

What can I say?

Major Murphy, you have
told me nothing.

I have come down here

after persuasion from
my friend, to Aldershot,

who has more interest in
military matters than I.

Now that I am here,
please tell me the facts.

The commanding officer
of this regiment,

Colonel James Barclay,

was found dead in his villa

at about 10 o'clock
the night before last.

The body was found by Private Bates,

his batman, lying in the morning room.

There was a ragged cut,
two-inches long,

on the back of his head,

which had evidently been caused
by a violent blow

from a blunt instrument.

And upon the floor by the body

was a singular hand-carved
wooden club.

Also, stretched out on the sofa

lying in a dead faint, was Nancy Bar -

Mrs. Barclay.

Please continue, Major Murphy.

The servants had been alerted
to the tragedy

by the sounds of a quarrel

between the Colonel and Mrs. Barclay.

They tried to enter the morning room

but found it locked.

Bates had to go around by the garden

and get in through the french windows.

And now you suspect Mrs. Barclay?

Yes.

But she is quite incapable

of such a dreadful act.

I have been the late Colonel's

second in command
for a number of years.

I've come to know Nancy Barclay well.

Of course.

Tell me about Colonel Barclay,

was he highly regarded by
the men under his command?

Considering his background,
remarkably so.

His background, why,
was he ever disgraced?

No, but it's not generally known outside

that Jim Barclay began his career

as a private soldier in the Mallows.

Did he, indeed?

From private soldier to
commanding officer

in the same regiment,

that's a rare achievement.

I was his gallantry in the Indian Mutiny

that got him his commission,

and then quite rapid promotion
over the years,

more rapid than mine, for instance.

Impressive.

And I suppose the unfortunate
Mrs. Barclay is in custody?

No, not exactly, no.

She's in hospital, being looked after,

with a police constable standing by.

Nancy Barclay is a
handsome woman now,

but you should have seen her

as a young girl in India, 30 years ago.

She was a daughter of the regiment.

Her father was the Regimental
Sergeant Major, RSM Devoy,

and therefore quite a formidable
father-in-law for any soldier.

I remember that all
the men in my company

thought her quite the
prettiest girl in the garrison.

As a junior officer I had
little to do with her,

but I was aware that
she was a most charming,

most vivacious and spirited girl.

It was quite understandable

that Barclay was not the only
man in the regiment

who sought her hand.

But, in the end, he was
the one she chose.

They were married at Bhurtee,

not far from Cornpor a few months after

the besieged garrison there

was relieved by General Neill's column

in the summer of 1858.

Shortly after the marriage,

Sergeant Barclay got his
commission, as expected.

It must have been difficult

for the Barclays at first,

NCO, promoted from the ranks,

married to a regimental
Sergeant Major's daughter?

Yes, I believe there was
some little social friction.

But, Nancy carried it off
with dignity and charm,

and they gained acceptance in no time.

Barclay's career flourished,

and the regiment returned
from India some five years ago.

Barclay was then appointed
to commanding officer.

And the marriage continued
to be a happy one?

It appeared to be so.

Appeared?

Most people believe the marriage

to have been a uniformly happy one.

And what do you believe,
Major Murphy?

My position as second in command

often took me to the Barclay's house.

I saw a different side to the marriage.

The truth is more important

than loyalty to your late commander.

One night I had been
dining at the Barclays.

It wasn't until I reached
the end of the drive

that I realized I'd left my cigar case

in the dining room.

I went back, the front door
was still open;

Jane, the maid, was in the hall.

I'm glad you're still here,

I left my cigar case on the table.

I think the Colonel and Mrs. Barclay

have gone to bed, sir.

Oh, for goodness sake, James.

Confess then, who is it, who?

Let go of me, you're hurting me.

Tell me you love me then,

me and nobody else.

Do you hear, do you hear me?

Oh, would I have married you
if I didn't?

I don't know, sometimes I wonder.

And this expression of jealousy

occurred within seconds of you,
Major Murphy,

leaving the Barclays' house.

Tell me about the Colonel,

was he a violent man in any way?

On occasion.

He could be most vindictive

towards young subalterns.

But he'd clawed his way to the top,

you need to be ruthless to do that.

Surely he didn't still feel

out of place as an officer?

No, I don't think so,

but he was subject to
a peculiar form of depression.

The Queen.

The Queen.

Sometimes when we were
discussing old campaigns,

the premier, the Mutiny, Afghan War,

the smile would often be
struck from his mouth

as if by some invisible hand.

Yes, long service in India

can have that effect.

I saw that when I was in the Berkshires.

You mentioned a carved wooden club

found by the body,

one of the Colonel's Indian souvenirs?

I believe the servants deny

ever having seen this club before.

Certainly I've never seen it
on any of my visits.

It was quite long.

And the police, I suppose,

have retained it for examination?

Yes.

They believe it to be
the murder weapon.

Do they, indeed?

I think we should begin

by visiting the Barclays' house,

unless, of course,

it is possible to interview
Mrs. Barclay?

I'm afraid she's still unconscious.

I thought as much.

David, David.

What a beautiful morning.

Holmes, suppose Mrs. Barclay

had a lover and the Colonel
had found out?

Major Murphy seems to have
been rather close to her.

You know, mild adultery

has always been commonplace

among officers and their wives

serving in hot climates.

Thank you, Watson,

for educating me in military morality.

If there had been anything

between Major Murphy and
Mrs. Barclay,

would he have related the incident

of his forgotten cigar case?

I was about half past seven, sir,

and I was waiting a table.

Once a month, Mrs. Barclay spent

the evening doing
charity work in Aldershot.

Where are you off to in such a hurry?

Well, the distribution of old
clothing starts at 8 o'clock,

and I promised Ann Morrison

I'd be at the mission hall on time.

Well, if you want to
catch some filthy disease

dealing with a lot of flea
ridden down and outs,

I suppose that's your affair.

I believe in putting back into life

as much as one gets out of it.

We've been fortunate with our lot;

others haven't been so lucky.

Don't be late back.

Of course not.

Mrs. Barclay must have returned

about quarter past nine, sir.

I was in the kitchen helping
the cook with the dishes.

There was thunder in the distance,

and I was just saying to Mrs. Fenning

that there was a storm brewing,

when the morning room bell rang.

I came up here to find that
Mrs. Barclay had returned.

She was walking up and down
this room, sir,

very pale, upset.

She looked awful, sir.

You rang, madam?

Yes, Jane, bring me some tea, will you?

Of course, madam.

Jane, is that you?

Yes, sir.

Did I hear Mrs. Barclay come in?

Yes, sir, she's in the morning room.

The morning room?

Yes, sir.

I'm just about to take her a pot of tea.

Tea? what does she want tea for
at this hour?

And that, presumably,

was the last time that anyone
saw Colonel Barclay alive?

Yes, sir.

Can you think of any reason

why your mistress came
into this morning room

at that time of night,
when the fire was unlit?

No, sir.

Did she often make a point

of purposely avoiding the Colonel?

Had you ever heard
them arguing before?

Not to my knowledge, sir.

When you returned from the kitchen

with Mrs. Barclay's tea,

you found the door locked,

and you heard voices raised.

Now, what exactly did you hear?

They were arguing, sir.

Mrs. Barclay called the Colonel
a coward.

She said you have ruined
my life all these years.

Mrs. Barclay shouted the name "David,"

she said it twice.

David?

Could you swear to that?

I was perfectly clear, sir.

But the Colonel's name was James.

Have you ever heard

Mrs. Barclay refer to
anyone called David?

No, sir, I don't think she
or the Colonel

knew anyone by the name of David.

And Major Murphy's christian
name is Patrick.

Had they had any visitors recently

by the name of David?

I don't think so, sir.

The club that was found

by Colonel Barclay's body,

had you seen it before?

No, sir.

The Colonel had several trophies
from India,

but nothing like that club.

Are you sure of that, Miss Stewart?

Yes, sir.

I don't know where it came from.

Thank you, that is all.

Oh, no, there is just one last thing,

Major Murphy once left
his cigar case here,

did you manage to find it?

Yes, sir.

The Colonel was lying down here, sir.

With his head by the fender?

Yes, sir.

You can see the mark of the blood still.

But the most frightening thing
of all, sir, was his face.

His face?

When I rolled him over.

I almost fainted away to look upon it.

It was all contorted, screwed up,

with the most horrible look
of fear and terror.

As if he'd foreseen his own death?

Quite possible, sir.

Thank you, Bates.

What apparition, what monster was it

that could have frightened
the Colonel so.

Not Nancy Barclay, for sure.

This door was locked shut, sir,

and what's more, the key was missing.

Missing?

Yes, in the end we had to send

for a locksmith to open it.

You have made a thorough
search for the key?

We searched high and low.

Mrs. Barclay hadn't got it,

and it wasn't in the Colonel's
pocket, sir.

Thank you, Mrs. Fenning.

Watson, if the key was not in the door,

and neither Mrs. Barclay nor
the Colonel had it, then -

Then there must have been
a third person.

Exactly,

who either entered or left
through those windows.

These are Bates' footprints.

But these, are the footprints of
someone else.

Someone has recently
crossed this lawn,

the marks are just visible.

He entered and left through
those windows, Watson,

we're on the right search.

Watson, look at this.

What is it?

Our entrant had a somewhat
unusual companion.

It's a dog, isn't it, somebody's dog?

Whoever heard of a dog

running up a curtain.

What about a cat then?

These claw marks are not
those of a cat,

nor of a monkey, nor of any creature

that we are familiar with.

I would think from hind foot to forefoot

at least 15 inches.

Add to that the length of neck and head,

you have a creature
no less than two feet,

more if there's a tail.

The length of its stride is odd,

it indicates a creature

with a long back and short legs.

Something like a stoat or a weasel?

We also know that it is carnivorous.

How can you tell that?

Well you see what made it
run up the curtain.

The canary.

Exactly.

Then what was this beast?

No, I can't, I cannot betray a friend,

please don't ask me to.

Miss Morrison,

when Mrs. Barclay left her house
to come here two nights ago,

she was happy and content.

When she returned two hours later,

she was a changed woman.

Now the police suspect her of murder.

You owe it to your friend to
clear her name.

You must tell me
what happened last night

that so changed her.

Very well, I shall break my
promise of silence

if what I can say can really help her.

So there was something.

It was most bizarre.

I should explain that we come across

all sorts of conditions of men here.

Yet, the other night,

I saw the most extraordinary creature

I have ever seen.

Not only had he a crooked back,

but he was lame

and walked with his knees bent.

His face was darkly tanned,

crinkled and puckered
like a withered apple.

I thought to myself that truly

there are some of us on this earth

who are burdened with more than

their fair share of misfortune.

This vision was made more unusual

by the oriental garb
the man was wearing.

I pointed this person out to Nancy

as someone especially
deserving of help.

Nancy had indeed been in
good spirits that evening,

and I saw her go towards the man

and ask him if he needed assistance.

It was now that a change
came over Nancy.

She had begun a conversation with
the man when suddenly

all the color drained from her face.

She looked as though
she had seen a ghost.

The man, too, seemed to be
strangely affected

by the sight of her,

and I saw him gesticulating wildly.

Well, Nancy and the man
went to a quiet corner

of the hall and they talked together

for a few moments or so

before I heard an angry shout
from the man

and saw him storm out,
waving his fists in the air.

Nancy, what is it,

are you all right?

Who was that poor creature?

It's an old acquaintance of mine

fallen on hard times.

Promise me, Annie,
you won't say anything

about this to anyone, promise me.

Of course, I promise, if you so wish.

And the identity of this man?

I thought you might ask me that.

Well, after this terrible happening,
Nancy left.

I naturally made a few inquiries

among some of the regulars;

such an unusual looking creature

has of course attracted attention.

It appears he is an old soldier
recently back from India,

and no one knows anything else

about his background

except that he makes a living

by entertaining the troops,
conjuring tricks,

that kind of thing.

And did you tell the police about him?

Of course not, a promise is a promise.

Yes, of course.

Thank you, Miss Morrison.

That is our intruder's
four-footed companion.

It's a mongoose.

I think we've found our man.

Mr. Henry Wood, I believe,
late of India.

May I have a word?

What about?

A little matter of Colonel
James Barclay's death.

She's innocent, you can take
my word for it.

Then you are guilty.

No, I am not guilty.

Then who struck the Colonel down?

It was a just Providence
that killed him,

his own guilty conscience.

I think you'd better explain.

My God, if I had smashed his head in,

as it was in my heart to do,

he would have got only what
he deserved from me.

No, I never laid a hand on him,

I was spared the trouble.

I'll tell you my story.

There is no cause for
me to be ashamed of it.

You see me now with
my back like a camel,

my ribs all awry,

but there was a time when
Corporal Henry Wood

was the smartest man
in the Royal Mallows.

You were in the same regiment
as Colonel Barclay?

Oh, yes, but he was
Sergeant Jim Barclay then.

We were in the same company,

and we had something else in common,

we were both in love

with the same woman, Nancy Devoy.

Who was the daughter

of the Regimental Sergeant Major.

There were two men who loved her,

but only one whom she loved.

She - you'll laugh when you look at

this poor thing huddled
in front of the fire

and hear me say that it was
for my good looks

that Nancy loved me.

I was the one she loved all along.

But although I had her heart,

her father didn't approve of me.

I was a harum-scarum,
reckless sort of lad,

but I was always honest and
plain dealing as well.

Oh, Nancy's father wanted her
to marry Barclay.

He was careful to keep out of trouble,

always did the right thing,

not like me who took Nancy

to places her father didn't like.

Besides, Barclay had had an education,

he was already marked
for the sword-belt.

RSM Devoy naturally thought Barclay

the better match for his daughter.

But she remained true to me,

and we would have married

had it not been for the Mutiny.

Why did Nancy Devoy not marry
the man she loved?

It was monsoon time in 1857,

when the Sepoys rose up
against the British.

The regiment was shut up in Bhurtee.

There were 10,000 rebels round us,

pinning us down like terriers
round a rat cage.

We'd run short of food and ammunition,

we had to communicate with
General Neill's column

that was moving up-country.

It was our only chance to get help.

Our company commander had asked
for a volunteer,

a fit, strong soldier to slip out
of the garrison

at dead of night and make contact

with the relief column out on
the plain beyond.

Like a fool, I volunteered.

It was a dangerous mission all right,

there were a 1,000 lives in peril.

But I was thinking of
only one of them...

Nancy Devoy,

the woman I loved, and the finest girl

that ever had the breath of life
between her lips.

Saying goodbye to her was
the hardest thing.

As we exchanged mementos,
I never thought that

I was saying goodbye to her
for 30 years.

It was my rival for Nancy's hand

who saw me off on my journey

through the enemy lines that night,

Sergeant Barclay.

He said he knew the lie of the land

around the garrison
better than any other.

While I volunteered to make the journey,

Jim Barclay volunteered to advise me

on the best route to take.

So, just after then,

while my comrades gave me
covering fire,

I set off.

Barclay had told me to follow a stream

which would lead to a gully.

This, he said,
was the safest way downhill.

His directions were perfect

and soon I was wading
through icy water

that only the day before
had been snow in the Himalayas.

I could see the lights and fires
in the rebels' camp

but I kept well down,

out of sight of their sentry posts.

I came to the gully and
thought I was safe.

Then it happened, I was attacked.

Something hard cracked down
on my head

and everything spun around.

When I came to,
I was trussed up like a chicken

and hanging from a tree.

My arms felt as though
they were being wrenched

out of their sockets.

I didn't mind the pain,
but I was sick at heart

for having failed in my mission.

What would be the fate of those

I had been trying to save?

But the biggest blow came as I listened

to what I could understand
of a rebels' talk.

I heard enough to realize
that I had been betrayed.

The very man who had
shown me the way to take

had betrayed me to the enemy.

Barclay had got rid of me

to make sure he could have my girl.

Now, you know what James Barclay
was capable of.

Well, it turned out that
General Neill's column

was already on its way
to relieve Bhurtee.

The rebels retreated,

they dragged me away with them.

I was tortured.

I tried to escape, I was tortured again.

It was to be many a long year

before I saw another white face.

My captors fled north,
further into the hills,

and used me as a sort of slave.

I was treated worse than a dog

and they damn near broke
every bone in my body.

Sometimes I'd wish
they'd just killed me,

but my thoughts of hatred and
loathing for the man

who destroyed my life kept me going.

I dreamed of revenge on Barclay.

One day some Afghan tribesmen

murdered the rebels
that held me prisoner.

They left me for dead, too.

But by a miracle, I still lived.

So, I had my revenge on my torturers,

but Barclay was beyond my grasp.

And what of Nancy,

I had no means of knowing whether
she was alive or dead.

I wandered back to the Punjab,

and lived among the natives,

picking up a living
by the conjuring tricks

I'd learned from the street magicians.

What use was it for me,
a wretched cripple,

to get passage back by ship to England

and make myself known
to my old comrades in the regiment?

Even my desire to have my revenge
on Jim Barclay didn't make me go.

No, I - I'll tell you straight,

I preferred my Nancy and my old pals

in the Royal Mallows to go on believing

that Harry Wood died a hero's death

with a straight back,

than see him crawling about the world

more like a chimpanzee
than a human being.

But you did return,

and to Aldershot where your old
regiment was stationed, why?

I just wanted to see the old country
once more before I died.

I saved what I could and
eventually I got a ship.

I didn't know the regiment was
stationed here in Aldershot,

I just wanted to be where
there were soldiers.

I could earn my keep
going around the canteens

doing my tricks to entertain them.

I no longer wanted to kill Barclay,

the fires of revenge

had burned low over the years...

until I saw her.

I thought I'd better get
some English tongs,

I looked comical enough
without wearing

these foreign clothes the whole time.

At first, I was more interested
in finding

a thick overcoat than
looking at the charity

ladies who were doling them out.

Then one of them came over,

I recognized her at once,

she'd hardly changed, still beautiful.

What's more amazing is she -

she seemed to know me.

Good evening, can I help you?

Have you been able to
find anything that -

I'm sorry, I thought I...

Nancy, it is me, Harry.

Don't be afraid.

I thought you had been dead
these 30 years.

I have been...

I thought I would never see you again.

We spoke for a moment or two together.

I told her some of my story.

I should have spared telling her

that her husband was a traitor

but it all came pouring out of me,

30 years of hate.

She was so effected by what I said,

I couldn't stand it.

I went outside,

then I saw her come out of the mission

and I followed her home.

I saw her go into the house,
a light came on.

I saw her sitting in a chair.

And then he came into the room.

James, I have to talk to you.

Why are you locking that door.

Don't be back late, I said,

don't be back late, didn't I?

You've been with someone.

No -

You have been with someone.

No -

Who is it?

...you've ruined my life.

All these years, all these years.

Oh, how could you do such a thing -

Mrs. Barclay, your tea.

- it was evil.

I hate you, I hate you,
I hate you, I hate you.

No-

To see him lay a hand on her

made me mad with anger.

My feelings overcame me -

David -

Your tea, madam.

David, you betrayed him.

It's not true.

But he's alive, I tell you,
I've seen him.

You're lying, you're mad.

He looked as I have never seen
a man look.

I read death on his face
as plain as anything.

The bare sight of me was like a bullet

through his guilty heart.

Mrs. Barclay, Mrs. Barclay,
open the door.

He smashed onto the fender.

He was dead before he fell.

Mrs. Barclay, Mrs. Barclay,
open the door.

I took the key to the door
from Nancy's hand,

intending to open it and get help.

I thought I'd better get away

or things might look black against me.

In haste, I thrust the key
into my pocket

whilst I was chasing Teddy,

who'd escaped from his box and
run up a curtain.

Teddy.

So, the Colonel died before

he struck his head on the fender?

An apoplectic fit, brought on by shock.

Mr. Wood, provided the
coroner reaches

the same conclusion, Mrs. Barclay -

Nancy.

- will be free.

I trust you would have no objection

to repeating your story to the police,

should the need arise?

Mr. Holmes, how is Nancy?

She's in hospital.

I understand in time she should
make a complete recovery.

Thank God.

Hello, Ann, how lovely to see you.

Are you better?

Yes, I'm much better.

Holmes, there's just one thing
I don't understand.

If the Colonel's name was James,

and Wood was called
either Henry or Harry,

then who the deuce was David?

My dear Watson,

that name David should have told me

the whole story had I been
the ideal reasoner,

which you are so fond of depicting.

But alas, my powers of deduction failed.

You see, David, in this case,

was evidently used as
a term of reproach.

Reproach?

Don't you remember how King David

sent Uriah the Hittite
into the forefront

of the battle to die so that he might

steal his woman, Bathsheba?

I think you will find the story

in the first or second book of Samuel.

My old testament is a little rusty.

You're quite right, Holmes,

Il Samuel, 11:14-17.

You appear to have looked it up yourself

since we returned home from Aldershot.

How did you know?

You used this bill for our meal

at Waterloo as a bookmarker,
did you not?

Excellent, Watson.

Elementary, my dear Holmes.

Goodnight, old fellow.

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