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Mr. Scott Eccles.

Oh, Mr. Garcia.

I'm sorry I did not recognize you at once.

Please allow me to carry your case.

That's very civil of you.

Thank you very much.

I'm sorry if the weather

has been unkind for your visit.

Unkind for you perhaps

but we British, you know,

we're hardy souls.

The county of Surrey is particularly interesting

I'm looking forward to showing you

my entire collection of old maps.

I mean there's Moore and Ogelby.

I got one or two here I can show you.

He used to draw.

[Speaking Spanish]

This is your house is it?

Yes.

Please.

Your welcome.

It's very nice.

I suppose Watson we must look upon you

as a man of letters.

How do you define the word 'grotesque'?

Grotesque.

Strange-remarkable.

No, no, no, no.

Surely there's more to it than that.

Some underlying suggestion

of a tragic or terrible.

If you cast your mind back to those narratives

with which you've inflicted

a long-suffering public,

you will see how often the word 'grotesque'

has deepened into the criminal.

I suppose

the affair of the redheaded men

was grotesque enough at the outset.

Most grotesque affair

of the five orange pips.

Yes, which led straight to a murderous conspiracy.

Now the word puts me on the alert.

Have you it there?

I've just had the most incredible

and grotesque experience.

May I consult you Scott Eccles?

Post-Office, Charring Cross.

A man or woman?

A man.

No woman would send a reply-paid telegram.

She would have come.

Will you see him?

Oh my dear Watson,

you know how bored I've been

since we locked up Colonel Carruthers.

Life is commonplace

the newspapers are sterile

audacity and romance seem to have passed forever

from the criminal world.

Of course I'll see him.

Unless I'm very much mistaken, this is our client.

Mr. Holmes?

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Well are you Mr. Holmes?

Certainly.

Yes, Mr. Holmes,

I have just had a most singular

and unpleasant experience.

No way in my life have I been subject to...

to such embarrassment

and been placed in such a position.

Please sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles,

my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.

In the first place, my I ask,

why you have came to me at all?

Well, sir, it didn't appear

to be a matter which concerned the police,

yet,

when you've heard the facts,

you must admit

I couldn't just leave it where it was.

Now the private detectives

they are a class with whom I'm absolutely,

I have no sympathy.

Sit, Mr. Scott Eccles.

Nonetheless,

having heard your name...

Watson!

I decided...

Now in the second place,

why did you not come to me at once?

What do you mean?

Well it is now a quarter-past two.

Your telegram was dispatched about one.

No one could glance at your toilet and attire

without seeing that your disturbance dates

from the moment of your waking.

But you're right, Mr. Holmes.

Yet I never gave a thought to my toilet.

I was only too glad to get out of such a house.

Oh no, no thank you.

You see but I have been running round

making inquiries before I came here.

I called the house agents, you know, oh yes,

yes, and they said... they said

that Mr. Garcia's rent was paid up all right

and that everything was in order in Wisteria Lodge.

Then they you'll come, come, sir Eccles.

You know you're like my friend, Watson,

who has the bad habit of telling his stories

wrong end foremost.

Now please, please arrange your thoughts

and let me know, in their due sequence,

exactly what those events are,

which have sent you out

unbrushed and unkempt,

with your dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry,

in search of advice and assistance.

Well I'm a bachelor

and being of a sociable turn

I cultivate a large number of friends.

At the table of one of them recently,

I met a young fellow named Garcia,

a pleasant chap

of Spanish decent,

connected in some way with the Embassy.

We discovered a common interest in cartography

or so I thought.

That's the study of old maps.

The plan was to retrace Surrey as Thomas Mould

engraved it some fifty years ago.

Well as soon as I arrived yesterday evening

I knew something was wrong.

The atmosphere of the place,

the house was tumbledown,

depressing.

Garcia told me he had a wonderful cook,

a half breed he had picked up on his travels

but the dinner,

well it was so ill-prepared

and served with such bad grace

that it was barely edible.

I can assure you that there were many times

in the course of the evening

I wished I could have invented some excuse to leave.

What did you say?

Well the rooms is fascinating.

John Rogglbe.

Across the heat then?

Wasn't just heat lad, it was all over the county.

I tell you, you feeling all right?

Yes.

Sorry.

Please, Please.

Some more wine for our guest.

Yes.

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

Are we expecting company?

I would like a drink of that if it's possible.

And he made no remark

as to the contents of the note?

None.

But for that moment

he gave up all pretence at conversation.

He just sat there

smoking these endless cigarettes.

About eleven I was glad to go to bed.

Two hours later

he looked in at my door.

Did you ring?

Did I ring?

Awe, please don't wake up it's nearly one o'clock.

Please go back to sleep.

Good night.

And now I come to the amazing part of my tale.

When I woke it was broad daylight,

nearly nine.

I had particularly asked to be called at eight,

so I was very much astonished

at this forgetfulness.

I say is anybody here?

I'd like some hot water.

I rang for the servant.

There was no response.

Somebody?

I say is there a servant available.

This is damnable.

I went from room to room,

all were deserted.

Even my host room,

the bed had never been slept in.

Foreign host,

foreign footman,

foreign cook,

all vanished in the night.

Your experience is,

so far as I know,

perfectly unique.

Now what else can you tell me?

Well, I was furious.

I packed my bags

and I banged the front door behind me

and I set out for Esher.

Then I called at Allan Brothers',

the land agents,

and found it was from them

that the villa had been rented.

Rented?

Well you see

I couldn't believe

that they had gone

simply to make a fool of me.

I thought, you know, it must be the rent

but I was wrong.

See the agent thanked me for my warning

but said that the rent had been paid in advance.

By the Spanish embassy I imagine?

I called at the Spanish embassy.

The man is unknown to them.

I also asked my friend who introduced us

and he seemed to know less about Garcia than I did.

Now, this house,

Wisteria Lodge,

I wonder if it's still as you left it.

What's troubling you, Watson?

Huh?

Well I fear some mundane explanation of the events

may await us upon our arrival.

It's possible.

We can thank our lucky fate,

which will rescue us for a few hours

from the insufferable fatigues of idleness.

This gentleman recommends The Bull in the village,

that's if we're to stay overnight.

I asked him if he knew Garcia

or his servants.

Did he?

No.

Nothing unusual about the outside.

Let's see what the interior holds for us.

I don't suppose we could be charged

with housebreaking can we?

Who on earth could leave such a mess?

Yes indeed.

Take a glance around the house, Watson.

Mr. Holmes?

Welcome to Wisteria Lodge, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector Baynes of the Surrey Constabulary.

This is Constable Downing.

And you are Mr. John Scott Eccles

of Popham House,

Lee?

I am.

Mr. Scott Eccles

we've been following you about all the morning.

You traced him through his telegram, I presume?

Exactly, Mr. Holmes.

We picked up the scent at Charring Cross Post-Office.

But what'd you want?

And why did you follow me?

We wish a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles,

as to the events which led up to the death

of Mr. Aloysius Garcia,

of Wisteria Lodge,

near Esher.

Dead did you say?

Oh yes sir, he is dead.

Yes.

But how?

An accident?

Murder, sir, if ever there was one on earth.

Good God!

This is awful!

You don't mean that I'm suspected?

Well, sir, you're note was found

on the dead man's body

and from it we learned

that you had planned to stay here

in this house last night.

So I did.

Oh, you did, did you?

Wait.

Baynes, I mean surely

all you need is a simple statement.

Yes, Mr. Holmes, but it is my duty

to warn Mr. Scott Eccles

that it may be used against him.

Awe, this is my fellow colleague, Dr. Watson,

Inspector Baynes.

Yes of course.

Doctor your attention.

Mr. Scott Eccles you look as if

you could do with a drink.

I found some brandy in the library if you think...

Thank you.

[Speaking Spanish]

Well I can assure you, Inspector that, you know,

every word I've said it is the truth.

I'm bound to say, Mr. Scott Eccles,

that everything you've said

does agree with the facts

as they've come to our notice.

For example, the note that arrived during dinner.

Mr. Scott Eccles what became of the note?

Well, Garcia rolled it up

and threw it in the fire.

What do you say to that, Baynes?

It was a dog-grate, Mr. Holmes,

he over pitched it.

I found this unburned of the back.

You must have made a very careful

examination of the house

to find a single pellet of paper.

Oh, I did, Mr. Holmes, I did.

It's my way.

The note is written on ordinary cream-laid paper

with a watermark.

It's a quarter-sheet.

The paper's cut off in two snips

with a short-bladed scissors.

It's been folded twice

and sealed with scarlet wax.

It's addressed to

Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge

and it says

Our own colors, green and white.

Green open,

white shut.

Main stairs,

first corridor,

seventh right,

green baize.

Godspeed.

D.

It's in a woman's writing,

done with a very sharp-pointed pen,

but the address is either done with a different pen

or by someone else

because it's thicker and bolder,

as you may see, Mr. Holmes.

It's a remarkable note.

I really must congratulate you

on your attention to detail.

There are a few trifling points

which might perhaps be added.

The seal is a sleeve-link

what else is of such a shape?

The scissors were bent nail scissors.

Short as the two snips are,

you can distinctly see

the same slight curve in each.

I thought I had squeezed it dry, Mr. Holmes,

but I see there was some still left over after all.

I'm bound to say

that I make nothing of the note

except that there's something's on hand,

and a woman, as usual,

is at the bottom of it.

I'm very glad you found the note, Inspector,

because it collaborates my story.

But, you know, I do beg to point out

that I haven't yet heard

what has happened to Mr. Garcia,

or what has become of his household.

As for Mr. Garcia, that's easily answered.

He was found dead

on Oxshott Common this morning.

His head had been beaten to a pulp by a sandbag

or some such object,

which had crushed rather than wounded.

Apparently he'd been

first struck down from behind,

but his assailant went on beating him

long after he was dead.

It was a very furious assault.

Awe, I mean this activity that we saw

has to be approached at the highest.

Were there any footsteps

or clues as to the criminal?

No, no, as yet.

Had Garcia been robbed?

No.

No sign of robbery.

Well our tenants seem to have left

little or nothing behind them.

Apart from the clothes,

some pipes, a few novels,

two of them in Spanish.

One of them is missing.

Yeah.

We might assume the 'G' stands for Garcia.

Family heirloom perhaps.

The other was not on the body

nor has it been found in the vicinity

though my men are still looking.

Do you wish to look around the house?

A brief look.

Holmes!

Holmes!

Holmes!

Watson!

What have you seen?

Could have been the devil for all I know.

Staring eyes at the window.

Negroid features, mulatto like.

It's got away across the field.

Maybe just as well

I don't think I could have laid hands on him.

Awe, look at this.

If he is all the same scale as his foot

then he is certainly a giant.

Well whoever he was, whatever he wanted

he's gone for the present,

and we have more important things to attend to.

Downing, you stay here.

And you sir shall come to the station with me.

Yes sir.

And let me have a written statement.

Yes certainly I'd come at once.

I hope you don't my

collaborating with you Inspector.

I'd be honored, Mr. Holmes.

I'd be honored.

Inspector, is there any clue

as to the exact hour of the man's death?

One o'clock.

It rained about that time

and the death certainly occurred before the rain.

No.

No, no.

That's perfectly impossible, Mr. Baynes.

No, no, his voice is very unmistakable.

I could swear to it

that it was he who addressed me in my room

at that very hour.

Well he spoke to me, you know,

in that funny accent of his.

He said he's it's nearly one o'clock.

Remarkable but we must not confuse the unlikely

with the impossible.

What does he mean of that?

Certainly some strange people occupy that house,

Mr. Holmes.

One of them is dead.

Did some of his companions

follow him and murder him?

If so, we should have them

for every port is watched

but my views are different, Mr. Holmes.

Yes sir, my views are very different.

You have a theory?

And I'll work it myself, Mr. Holmes.

Your name is already made,

I have yet to make mine

and I shall like to be able to say afterwards,

that I solved it without your help.

Then you do follow your path

and I will follow mine.

Goodbye, Mr. Scott Eccles.

Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.

Scott Eccles.

Let us consider this note.

Is there a woman involved?

A jealous husband?

Godspeed.

Godspeed D, that must be our guide.

The man was a Spaniard

I suggest that the 'D' stands for Delores.

It's a common female name in Spain.

A Spaniard would write to a Spaniard in Spanish,

Watson.

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

Henderson, High Gable, George Ffolliott.

Mr. Holmes?

Look what I've found.

In the bush.

Excellent.

I'm terribly sorry.

I've seemed to have...

[speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

You are trespassing.

I'm terribly sorry.

I've seemed to have lost my direction.

Is it your custom to wonder...

Awe, Doctor Rayfield,

my friend and fellow cartographer.

Yes indeed.

You were so engrossed

in trying to chase the bridal path

to a now vanished Hamlet

of Obligor St Mary

that we mislaid each other.

And since we're late for Mr. Henderson, I thought,

I'm so glad you found your way here.

Well I very much regret that

Mr. Henderson is too busy to see you today.

No Lucas,

I will see them.

Gentlemen.

The purpose of our visit

is to inquire into the history of High Gable,

which we believe has an

intriguing and blood fested past.

Since the days of the English civil war.

I would have no knowledge of that.

I'm only a recent invader.

But there are local records in the library.

There are no records of any past

found in this house.

I see.

Then I will detain you no more.

Good day.

I thought you were in London.

For the morning only.

Well with your usual reluctance

to confide your thoughts to me

I exercised my own mind in the matter.

You'd circled two names on your list,

Henderson and High Gable.

Well the others are,

per say, respectable people.

Far aloof from romance

but this man, Henderson,

but he's a very singular creation.

Yes indeed.

As you may have noticed...

no tea for me...

the house is double winged.

One side the servants the other side the family.

There is one single connecting door

for the Henderson family meals.

I'm sure you couldn't have observed all that

in the short time we there, Holmes.

I was looking for evidence in gossip

and discharged servants

and I was lucky to enough to find one

who had been sacked

by his imperious master Henderson

and a victim of violent temper.

Now the Henderson girls,

who we encountered,

have a governess.

A Miss Burnet, an English woman.

Here is the very singular fact.

She has not been seen

since the night of the murder.

She has utterly vanished.

I've seen her.

Of course,

I've seen her and she is alive.

I saw her at the window at High Gable.

My God a prisoner.

She slipped my mind.

The moment those awful girls descended upon me.

She is alive, I've seen her.

That's the man I saw and chased.

Baynes has arrested the wrong man.

Now Watson, quickly, we must stop him.

Is he the murderer?

Did he kill a Spaniard?

Where did you capture him?

This man is the murdered man's cook

who disappeared on the night of the crime.

We believe there were valuables

left in the house

and that there abstraction

was the motive.

The man had been seen

in the vicinity of the house once before.

The second time,

subdue him Higgins.

The second time we let a man escape for him

we shall be applying for remand

when the prisoner's brought before the magistrate.

That will be all for now, gentlemen.

Thank you very much.

Was it on the way?

Where did you capture him?

Baynes?

I am not convinced that you're on the right line.

Mr. Holmes doesn't want you

to commit yourself too far

unless you're sure.

Oh, you're very kind gentlemen

but we did agree

to work on our own lines didn't we?

And that's what I'm doing.

You're welcome always to my news.

This fellow is as strong as a carthorse

and fierce as the devil.

He nearly bit off Constable Downing's thumb

before they managed to master him.

He speaks hardly any English

and we can get nothing out of him but grunts.

And you think that you have evidence

that he murdered his late master?

I didn't say so, Mr. Holmes.

I didn't say so.

We all have our own little ways.

You will go yours

and I will go mine.

That was the agreement.

So be it.

I think Baynes is riding for the fall.

I would have to agree with you there.

You appreciate our difficulty, Watson.

There's nothing upon which

we can apply for a warrant.

And with our worthy Inspector

making his arrests

our theory would seem fantastic

if laid before the magistrate.

Yet you think the lady's in danger of her life?

Yes.

I'm sure of it Watson,

therefore we must take

the law into our own hands.

Top left bay.

We could reach it from that outhouse.

Come.

They're heading for the station.

We'll follow the coach to London.

Right.

Stop the train.

Stop the train.

Stop it.

Why, Mr. Holmes,

you have given me the very evidence I wanted.

We were both on the same scent from the start.

Were you after Henderson too?

Quite so well, you first

and then Doctor Watson here

came crawling through the under growth

at High Gable.

I was up a tree observing you both.

It was just a question

of who got the evidence first.

Why did you arrest the mulatto?

Well I was sure that Henderson,

as he calls himself,

felt he was suspected

and he would make no move

so long as he thought he was in danger

so I arrested the wrong man.

You know you will rise high

in your profession Inspector.

You have instinct and intuition.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes,

but we can't arrest

without Miss Burnet's evidence can we?

Oh she'll be able to give you that in a moment

but tell me who is this man Henderson?

He's Don Murillo,

known as the Tiger of San Pedro.

One of the most dangerous men

out of Central America.

Oh indeed.

Most elude and blood thirsty tyrant.

Who imposed his earliest vices

upon a caring people for almost twelve years.

Was it the San Pedro colors green and white

that first put you onto it?

That and my visit to London

to the Spanish embassy

in the foreign office.

Now please this is your case, Inspector.

Five years ago

there was a rising against the tyrant

but it was an empty palace they stormed on Murillo,

his secretary,

two children and all the wealth

had escaped by ship

and from that moment

they disappeared from the face of the earth.

His identity has been a subject

of constant comment in the European press.

We discovered him a year ago.

Miss Burnet?

How came you into this matter Miss Burnet?

An English lady in such a murderous affair.

Because there is no other way in the world

by which justice can be gained.

What does the law of England

care about the rivers of blood

shed so many years ago in San Pedro

or the shipload of treasure

that this man has stolen from us?

To you

they're like crimes committed on some other planet.

We know.

My real name is Signora Victor Durando.

My husband was the minister

of San Pedro in London.

He met and married me there.

A nobler man never lived upon the earth.

Unhappily, Murillo heard of his exodus

and recalled him on some pretext,

and shot him

by a stroke of...

of premonition.

My husband had refused to take me with him.

Then came the downfall of the monster.

He escaped as you have described.

But the many whose lives he had ruined,

whose loved ones had suffered torture

and death at his hands,

would not let the matter rest.

We banded ourselves into a society,

which should never be dissolved

until the work was done.

It was my part to attach myself to his household

and keep the others in touch with his movements.

I secured the position as governess.

[Speaking Spanish]

He little knew that the woman

who faced him at every meal

was the woman whose husband

he had hurried to eternity.

I smiled on him,

did my duty to his children,

and bided my time.

An attempt was made in Paris and failed.

We zigzagged here and there swiftly over Europe

to throw off our pursuers

and finally returned to High Gable.

Garcia had been waiting there for nearly a year

with two trusted companions,

all fired with the same reasons for revenge.

Who was Garcia?

The son of Fernando Garcia.

One of the former highest dignitaries of San Pedro

who was murdered...

like your husband.

This note you sent,

you say it was intercepted.

During the day

Murillo took every precaution

and never went outside

without his satellite Lucas.

Even at night the man was forever on the alert

and continually changed his room.

We had arranged

that I would send Garcia final instructions.

The doors would be opened

and the signal of a green or white light

in a window,

which faced the drive,

was to give notice if all was safe

or if the attempt had better be postponed.

To whom are you writing this letter?

Which describes the room

in which I intend to sleep tonight.

Who is your confederate?

Who is your confederate?

What is your real name Miss Burnet?

My name is Durando.

Durandos widow.

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

[Speaking Spanish]

You can kill me now

what is my life worth

you have destroyed everything that I love.

Who are you writing to?

Tell me.

Don't you remember?

Who?

It's a man you fear.

He's waiting for you.

He's Garcia.

Garcia?

[Speaking Spanish]

Wisteria Lodge,

he is waiting to dispatch you to hell.

You fiend.

I knew the boy well.

His father was once my dearest friend.

You murdered him.

He betrayed me

and so did your husband.

And now they send the wives and sons.

Will you never learn?

I am indestructible.

At first they were of a mind

to let him into the house

and kill him as a detected burglar

but they feared the inquiry

might publicly expose them.

[Speaking Spanish]

Garcia, some day justice will come.

That is as certain

as the rise of tomorrow's sun.

I have no doubt that my life too

hung in the balance.

Most of the time I was confined to my room.

Terrorized by the most horrible threats

to break my spirit.

Occasionally I was allowed out

but only when they had first drugged my food

and it was at this state

that you found me at the station.

And thanks to this good man

I am beyond their power forever.

Well Inspector,

our police work is done

but our legal work begins.

Exactly, Mr. Holmes, yes.

Garcia's death

in the hands of a portable lawyer

could look like an act of self-defense.

But I think better of the law than that.

Self-defense is one thing

but to entice a man in cold-blood

with the object of murdering him is another.

Whatever danger you fear from him.

I think we shall justice done

at the next [unintelligible].

I thought you had released the mulatto.

Yes sir, he's a free man again.

And your man is with the fugitives on the train?

He is, sir, yes, and I've wired Scotland Yard

to have their men at Waterloo Station

to receive them, yes.

You know I really must congratulate, Inspector.

Your powers, if I may so, without offense,

are superior to your opportunities.

Your right, Mr. Holmes.

In the province as we stagnate

a case like this gives a man a chance.

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