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It's no good.

I shall have to go.

Go?

Go where?

King's Pyland.

Last evening Inspector Gregory

of the Devonshire Constabulary

arrested well known racing personality

Fitzroy Simpson

and charged him with the murder

of trainer, John Straker.

Oh, come in.

Two more telegrams, Mr. Holmes.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

You've been bombarded with these

the last couple of days.

Another one from Inspector Gregory.

A note from Colonel Ross.

Awe, that's the horse's owner.

Thank you my dear.

Watson,

I had made a blunder,

which I am afraid is a more common occurrence

than anyone would think

who only knew me through your memoirs.

But the fact is that I could not believe

that so a remarkable a horse as Silver Blaze

could disappear,

especially in the seclusion of

somewhere like Dartmoor.

From hour to hour I expect to hear

that the abductor was the murderer of John Straker

and the horse had been found

but that doesn't seem to be the case.

I should be happy to go with you.

No, Tavistock.

If I should not be in the way.

Oh my dear Watson,

you would confer a great favor upon me by coming.

I'm sure your time will not be misspent.

The case promises to be absolutely unique.

We can just catch our train from Paddington.

Oh Watson, would you be so kind

as to bring your field glasses?

Mrs. Hudson, were off to Dartmoor.

Tickets please.

Thank you, Inspector.

Thank you.

Watson, were going well.

Our speed at present

is fifty-three and half miles an hour.

I've not observed the quarter mile post.

Nor have, I

but the telegraphed posts

on this line are sixty yards apart.

The calculation is a simple one.

Has that remarkably, colored, sporting paper

anything to say on the subject of our horse?

What?

Oh, Yes.

Yes.

Here we are.

Silver Blaze.

Silver Blaze is from Isonomy stock.

Isonomy.

And holds as brilliant a record

as his famous ancestor.

He's now in his fifth year

and has brought in turn

each of the prize of the turf

to Colonel Ross his fortunate owner.

At the time of the catastrophe

he was first favored for the Wessex Cup.

The odds quoted being two to one against.

He's always been a prime favorite

of the racing public

and has never yet disappointed them.

In spite of the unfavorable prize,

a great deal of money has been placed upon him,

so it is obvious, therefore,

that there are many people

with the strongest interest

in preventing Silver Blaze

from being there at the fall of the flag.

All right, Baynes,

will you stop here please

cause this is a rather good view.

Now that's King's Pyland, over there Mr. Holmes.

You know my training stable

where the missing horse was kept.

What exactly does your establishment consist of,

Colonel Ross?

Well, there's the trainer's house,

where poor Straker lived with his wife

and a maidservant.

How long had he been with you sir?

Oh, five years at jockey

until he got too heavy for the weighing chair.

Then seven years as my trainer.

Yes, he was a first class man.

And I presume the stables are beyond?

Yes, yes not a big yard, it's a good one.

My thought is quality not quantity.

As anyone connected with the turf

will tell you, Mr. Holmes.

Yes, thank you, Inspector.

You see, at the moment,

I'm merely five horses in the yard.

I see you have two of them

entered for the Wessex Cup, Colonel Ross.

That's right, yes.

Yes, Silver Blaze and Bayard.

But between us Bayard is intended for a pacemaker.

Well with such valuable animals under his charge,

I imagine your trainer Mr. Straker

must have taken some precautions.

Oh yes indeed.

Three stable lads lived with the horses

and after dark one of the lads

was always on duty in the stables

while the other two sleep above in loft.

Is that another training stable over there?

Yes, that's Mapleton.

Lord Backwater's yard.

Lord Backwater?

Lord Backwater owns Desberly,

second favorite for the Wessex Cup.

This is not a bad horse.

Not in the same class as Silver Blaze.

Fellow called, Silas Brown,

trains for Backwater, [unintelligible] himself.

Nor could Straker come to that.

There's a natural rivalry I presume.

Rather more than that.

Shall we drive on?

Yes, indeed.

All right, Baynes.

Inspector Gregory,

are there any further developments

as to the where abouts of the horse?

Nothing at all.

We have made very little progress

in that direction.

I can't imagine how a horse like Silver Blaze

could go missing for so long in a place like this.

Nor can I.

I must tell you Mr. Holmes,

that at first I was not at all taken

with Inspector Gregory's suggestion

that you should be asked to come down here.

I don't like amateurs you see?

Ha!

But you did send me a telegram, Colonel.

Well no one else seems to be able to find my horse.

If you ask me it's these damn gypsies

wondering all over the moor.

It's a perfect scandal, I've said so for years.

My men have seen

every group of gypsies on Dartmoor

in the last two days, Colonel.

And searched every stable yard,

quarry and cave in south Devon.

It's an absolute mystery.

I expect a miracle from you, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector Gregory,

my friends at Scotland Yard tell me

that you're rapidly making a reputation for yourself

in the English detective service.

I'm a keen student of your methods too,

Mr. Holmes.

I have the two principle, witnesses waiting for you.

Thank you.

In here, Mr. Holmes.

Who are they?

Edith Baxter, the maid

and Hunter, the stable boy

who was on duty on Monday night.

It was just a few minutes after nine o'clock, sir.

I was carrying Mr. Hunter supper

across from the house.

Awe, but Miss Baxter,

what did the supper consist of?

It was a dish of curried mutton, sir.

Suddenly I heard a man's voice.

Did not give me a turn, I can tell you sir.

Excuse me, Miss.

What do you want, sir?

Can you tell me where I am?

I'd almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor

when I saw the light.

This is King's Pyland training stable, sir.

What a stroke of luck.

I understand there's stable lad

who sleeps here at night.

No doubt that's his supper you have there.

I'm sure you wouldn't be too proud to earn

yourself the price of a new dress would you?

See the boy has this tonight

and you shall have the prettiest frock

money can buy.

I couldn't!

Ned!

Ned!

Ned!

There's a man stopped me out there.

I'm ever so frightened.

What did he want?

He asked after you.

He asked me to give you something.

What was it?

I don't know.

It was white.

Where is he now?

He's gone.

We best cut back to the house quick.

Tell the governor!

Yes Ned.

Good evening.

I want a word with you.

What business have you here?

It's a business that may

put something in your pocket, my lad.

Now you've two horses entering the Wessex Cup,

Silver Blaze and Bayard,

let me have the straight tip

and you won't be the loser.

Is it the fact that at the weights Bayard

can give the other a hundred yards

and five furlongs in the...

You wont get any tips around here, get out!

After him boy, after him!

The governor and the others

came down soon enough.

We found not a sight or sound of the man.

One moment.

When you let the dog out

did you leave the door open behind you?

Oh excellent, Watson, excellent.

It's just the point I was going to make.

I locked the door behind me sir.

I swear it.

Good lad.

Does Fitzroy Simpson admit to all this?

He denies nothing.

He says he came for information.

What about the white paper?

He says it was a five-pound note.

What happened next?

Well sir,

it was about dawn

when the mistress came into my bedroom

and told me to come with her.

Well when she woke

she'd found Mr. Straker's bed empty.

Heavens!

The horse is gone...

and the bridle.

Ned, wake up!

Wake the boys.

Ned!

Ned!

Wake up.

Wake up, Ned!

Bill, Robbie come quick,

Silver Blaze is gone.

Over here.

He was dead sir.

His head

it was all knocked in.

It was terrible.

It was a terrible blow on the head

from some blunt instrument

that had killed him.

It was clear that he had

defended himself most vigorously.

The blood stained knife.

As to the wound on the thigh, who can tell?

Well it is possible that the wound on the thigh

could have been caused as Straker fell.

The lad here was drugged.

Appreciable quantities of powered opium

were found in his carry.

Did all the household eat the same dish?

Yes sir.

I made it myself and served it.

This black and red scarf?

The gentleman was wearing that scarf

when he talked to me.

I'd swear that on the Bible, sir.

Thank you Watson.

Thank you.

Stop it boy.

Stop it.

Come on.

Good dog.

Good boy.

My theory is that Simpson

was under some strong obligation to Nobble

or otherwise incapacitate this horse

so that he would be unable to run in the Wessex Cup.

Clever move that, putting opium in the boy's food

and easy enough through that window.

Yes.

Then it was simple.

He obtained a duplicate key,

led out the horse,

it was his bad luck

that Straker was alert enough

to catch him up on the moor,

in the struggle the horse bolted.

That's no proof

that Simpson killed Straker.

Well the evidence against him is very strong.

He was undoubtedly here on some devious business.

He poisoned the stable lad.

He had in his hand a heavy stick

weighted with lead

and his scarf was found

in the dead man's hand.

And he went pale as death

when I confronted him with that fact.

I really think we have enough

to go before a jury.

No, no.

No.

Inspector?

A cleaver council would tear it all to rags.

Has a duplicate key been found in his possession?

No.

Well what chemist sold him the powered opium?

And above all how could he,

a stranger in this district,

hide a horse and such a horse as Silver Blaze?

I agree the evidence is circumstantial

but I think the net is drawn pretty tightly

around Fitzroy Simpson

and I believe he is our man.

What sort of fellow is he

and why would he do such a thing?

Fitzroy Simpson is a man of

excellent birth and dedication.

Unfortunately he has

squandered a fortune on the turf,

which has put him in the hands of moneylenders

and unscrupulous bookmakers.

Plenty of those sharks in the racing world.

I didn't know that

you were a betting man, Watson.

What?

Oh, just the occasional flutter.

I presume an inventory has been made

of what Straker had in his pockets

at the time of his death?

I have the things themselves

in the sitting room

if you would care to see them.

Weiss & Co., London.

From the bloodstains, I presume,

this is the knife that was found

in the dead man's grasp.

Yes indeed.

This is more in your line, Doctor.

This is what we call a cataract knife.

Very delicate blade

devised for very delicate work.

Strange thing for a man to take

on so rough an expedition, Holmes,

especially as it wouldn't shut in his pocket.

Awe, the tip was guarded by a disc of cork,

which we found beside the body.

You impress me, Inspector.

Thank you.

Mrs. Straker says it was on the dressing table.

It was probably

the nearest thing to him at the time.

I see.

I see.

Corn merchants bill.

Instructions from Colonel Ross.

Awe what have we here?

A milliner's account

for thirty-seven pounds fifteen shillings

for a Madame Lesurier,

of Bond Street, London,

to a Mr. William Derbyshire.

Mrs. Straker tells us

that Derbyshire was a friend of her husband's

and on occasionally

had his letters addressed here.

Twenty-two guineas.

Somewhat heavy for a single costume.

Mrs. Derbyshire had rather expensive taste.

Yes.

Well there appears to be

nothing more to learn here, Inspector,

shall we move onto the scene of the crime?

Yes, of course.

After you Watson.

Have you got them, Inspector?

Is there any more news?

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Straker.

But Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson

have come down from London to help us.

I assure you we're doing everything possible.

I wish you good luck, Mr. Holmes.

Oh thank you madam and my commiserations

on your great loss.

Surely we've met?

At a garden party

in Plymouth some time ago.

No sir.

You are mistaken.

No, do you know I could have sworn it.

You wore a costume of dove-colored silk

with ostrich feather trimming.

I never had such a dress, sir.

That quite settles it.

Thank you.

That is the bush where the coat was hanging.

What was the weather like?

Wind calm bit of rain about.

And the coat was not blown against the bush

but placed there?

Oh yes, it was placed.

Inspector!

No, no, no!

So many people have trampled around this land.

There have been many people here.

That piece of matting has been placed there

and we have all stood upon there.

Not the general public.

I have in this bag

one of the boots John Straker wore,

one of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes,

and a cast horseshoe of Silver Blaze.

Thank you, Inspector.

Half burned wax candle.

I cannot understand how I came to overlook them.

Oh they're invisible, buried in the mud.

I only saw them because I was looking for them.

What, you expected to find them?

I thought it not unlikely.

I'm afraid there are no more tracks.

I've examined the ground

for a hundred yards in every direction.

What a pleasant evening.

I think I'll take a walk, stretch my legs.

Watson?

Yes, indeed.

I'll take this for luck.

I have some work to do in the house,

then Colonel Ross is coming

to take us back to Tavistock.

Good evening, Constable.

Suppose that Silver Blaze broke away,

where would he have gone?

If he'd run loose on the moor

he'd have surely been seen by now.

Perhaps the gypsy theory's correct.

No, no, no, no.

A horse is a most gregarious creature.

Now he did not go back to King's Pyland

to his own stable,

so he must have gone...

to Mapleton.

Now let us use that as a working hypothesis.

The ground around here is very hard and dry

but over there in that hollow

it must have been very wet on Monday night.

If our supposition is correct,

he must have crossed it.

Watson!

By George, look at that.

You see the value of imagination

is the one quality,

which Inspector Gregory lacks.

We imagined what might have happened,

acted upon the supposition,

and find ourselves justified.

Let us proceed.

Look!

Look!

Horse and man turned.

No loitering around here.

Haven't you got eyes in your head.

I only wanted to ask you a question.

Should I be too early

to see Mr. Silas Brown,

if I was to call around here

at five-thirty tomorrow morning?

I shouldn't be speaking to you by rights.

Here lad

please accept.

Bless you, sir.

You're a gentleman.

Mr. Brown's the early bird

around here all right.

Dawson?

What are you doing gossiping with strangers?

Be about your business.

Now what the devil do you two want around here?

Just a few minutes of your time, Mr. Brown.

Be off with you

or you'll find the dog on your heels.

Why should I talk every

gadabout stranger on the moor?

It may save you instant dismissal

from Lord Blackwaters' service

and the stiffest prison sentence.

Keep guard.

Early Tuesday morning,

you're about the yard as usual,

when you saw a horse on the moor.

When you approached it you realized

that it wasn't a strange horse at all.

It was one that you knew, very well.

Your first instinct was to lead Silver...

Silver Blaze back to King's Pyland

but then the devil put

other ideas into your head.

You have a chance to make a great deal of money.

It occurred to you

that if you were to hide the horse...

You've been watching me haven't you?

You've been spying on me, sir.

Now.

Sir.

I do what you want.

If it's money you want

you shall have it.

You will do exactly as I tell you.

A more perfect compound

of the bully, coward and sneak

that Master Silas Brown

I've seldom met with.

He has the horse then?

Of course.

But his stables have been searched.

An old faker like him

knows many a dodge.

Watson, I didn't know whether you observed

but Colonel Ross' manner

has been somewhat cavalier.

I'm inclined to have a little amusement

at his expense.

Say nothing to him about the horse.

I shall say nothing without your permission.

Splendid.

We have found traces,

which show that a party of gypsies

encamped on Monday night

within a mile of where the murder took place.

Fitzroy Simpson

may well have an understanding with them

over hiding the horse.

Nevertheless,

I think I owe it to the public

to remove Silver Blaze's name

for the entrance for the cup.

No, certainly not!

Colonel, I should let the name stand.

But I've already withdrawn Bayard.

But I have every hope

that Silver Blaze will start on Saturday.

Have your jockey at readiness.

I'm very glad to have your opinion, sir.

That is a minor point, of course,

compared with the question

of who killed John Straker.

Doubtless you will be devoting yourself

to that problem.

On the contrary, Doctor Watson and I

were taking the Night Express to London.

We've had the most charming little breath

of your country air.

So you've despaired already of arresting

the murderer of poor John Straker.

With our certain grave difficulties.

Do you have the photograph of Straker?

Thank you, Inspector.

I am quite ready now for Tavistock.

Linger.

I must say I am rather disappointed

in our London consultant.

I don't see that were any further than when he came.

But at least you have his assurance Colonel

that your horse will run.

Oh yes, I have his assurance.

I should prefer to have the horse.

I think you should

heed Mr. Holmes advice, Colonel.

Well I shall have to see.

Excuse me,

whom looks after these sheep?

I do, sir.

Have you noticed anything amiss of late?

No sir.

Well it's not much account,

but three of them have gone lame.

Thank you.

A long shot, Watson, a very long shot.

After you.

Inspector I would like to recommend to you

the singular epidemic among the sheep.

You really consider that to be important?

Exceedingly so.

All right Baynes.

Is there any other point

to which you wish to draw my attention, Mr. Holmes?

To the curious incident

of the dog in the nighttime.

But the dog did nothing in the nighttime.

That is the curious incident.

Where the devil is my horse, Holmes?

No, no, no, no,

Where the devil is he?

I suppose, Colonel,

that you would recognize him

if you saw him?

Know my own horse?

I have been on the turf for twenty years

and I've never been asked

such a damn fool question before.

A child would know Silver Blaze

with the white star on his forehead

and mottled hind leg.

I suppose you realize if my horse doesn't run,

quite a part from being lynched by the crowd,

I shall be up before the Stewards'.

Probably warned off

every racecourse in England for life.

Reputation ruined.

Awe, let us hope it does not come to that, Colonel.

Here's Doctor Watson.

And this, Colonel,

is your horse.

But that's not my horse, Holmes!

Good God man, what have you done?

There Colonel is your Silver Blaze.

I found him in the hands of a faker

and brought him to the course just as he was.

Good heavens.

You take my breath away, Mr. Holmes.

Silver Blaze.

If he runs me lord

to win a place me lord?

To win, of course.

Any more like you at home?

Run Silver Blaze, run!

Come on!

What's the matter with the damn horse?

What have you done to him Holmes?

He seems to be missing his pacemaker.

I should have never withdrawn Bayard.

Wait a minute he's breaking through.

Come on Silver Blaze.

Come on Silver Blaze.

Silver Blaze!

Go on.

Go on.

Go on.

Go on.

You've done wonders Mr. Holmes,

and I owe you a thousand apologies

for having doubted your ability.

Now you've done me a great service

by recovering my horse.

You'd do me a greater still

if you could lay your hands

on the murderer of John Straker.

I've done so.

What?

What's all this about if you got him.

Where is he then?

He's here.

Here!

Where?

Some who's now present at this very moment.

Yes I quite recognize

that I'm under obligations to you Mr. Holmes,

but this either a very bad joke or an insult.

Oh the real murderer, Colonel,

is standing immediately behind you.

What the horse?

Yes, the horse.

And it may lessen his guilt if I say

that it was done entirely in self-defense,

and that John Straker

was a man quite unworthy of your trust.

Number four, sir, winner.

Come Ross.

Yes, thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

Number twelve.

Number twelve.

Very proud of it.

Very proud.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

I confess, gentlemen,

when we came down to King's Pylan,

I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson

was the true culprit.

All the newspaper and police reports

seemed to point to it.

It was only when

I entered the trainer's house

that the immense significance

of the curried mutton occurred to me.

I confess that even now

I cannot see how it helps us.

Powdered opium, Colonel,

is by no means tasteless.

I am correct?

Oh quite correct.

The flavor is not distasteful

but it is perceptible.

Were it mixed with an ordinary dish

the eater would undoubtedly detect it

but would probably eat no more.

Curry was exactly the medium

with which to disguise the taste.

So it must have been Straker or his wife?

Exactly.

Cause I remember you spoke of a dog.

Yes, the dog that didn't bark in the night.

Well someone had been into the stable

and taken out the horse

and the dog had not barked.

So obviously this midnight visitor

was someone the dog knew well.

I wasn't really convinced that it was a stranger.

But for what purpose

should he take out the horse

and drug his own stable boy?

A dishonest one, obviously.

There have been cases before now

where trainers have made great sums of money

by laying against their own horses

and then preventing them from winning.

Well sometimes you get a poorling jockey,

I will say that.

And sometimes

by surer and most subtler means.

This

singular knife,

it was found in the dead man's hand

and which no sane man

would use as a weapon, right?

Oh yes, only, only used

in the most delicate operations.

It was used for a

very delicate operation that night.

Excuse me.

As you know, Colonel,

with your wide knowledge of turf matters

that it is possible to make a slight nick

in the horse's tendon,

and do it, subcutaneously.

Any slight lameness

will be put down to a strain in training

or bruised, never foul play.

Villain!

The damn Scoundrel!

Not an operation to be done in the stable.

No food for me.

So sensitive a creature

would arouse the soundest of sleepers.

I've been blind and Gregory too.

Of course, that's why he needed the candle

and struck the match.

When I examined Straker's belongings

I was fortunate enough to discover

not only the method of the crime

but also the motive.

Most men do not carry

other people's bills in their pockets.

From this I concluded

that Straker was leading a double life.

The nature of the bill

shows that there was a woman in the case.

And a woman of expensive taste.

Liberal though you are with your servants,

I'm sure they're not able to afford

twenty-two guinea, walking dresses for their ladies.

Mrs. Straker never had one by her own admission.

When I visited Bond Street the other morning,

I showed Madame Lesurier

this photograph of Straker.

She recognized him

as an extremely good customer

called William Derbyshire,

with a very dashing young wife

with a partiality for expensive dresses.

Women!

Women!

I suppose it was she

who plunged him head over heels into debt

and so left him to his miserable plot?

Straker let out Silver Blaze into the hollow

where his light would not be visible from the yard.

Simpson in his flight

had dropped his scarf.

Straker picked it up

with the idea, no doubt,

that he might use it

in securing the horses leg.

Straker was able to light his candle

but just as he had the knife ready

the horse lashed out

and caught him a fatal blow on the forehead.

Why?

And why did the horse lash out so suddenly?

Frightened by the candle, the knife?

Well animals have a strange instinct.

They seem to know

when some mischief is intended.

My final shot I must confess, was a long one.

It struck me that such astute man,

as Straker would not undertake this

tendon-nicking without a little practice.

The sheep!

Of course!

Wonderful, my dear.

Now you've explained

all but one thing.

The horse.

Now where was the horse?

Well I think we must have

a little amnesty in that direction, Colonel.

It bolted and was looked after

by one of your neighbors.

Gentlemen I give you a toast

to Silver Blaze

coupled with the names of my friends,

Mr. Sherlock Holmes

and Doctor Watson.

To Silver Blaze.

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