All language subtitles for Sherlock Holmes s05e03 Shoscombe Old Place.eng

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And this is where
the Prince is stabled.

Oh, Sir Robert.

Sorry to disturb you.

This is Joe Barnes.

Josiah's boy.

I know who he is, Mason.

What's he doing here?

He's keen to race horses.

I can ride, Sir Robert.

I'd love to be a jockey.

Would you?

More than
anything in the world.

Well, that's
good, very good.

But what has it
got to do with me?

Well, I thought
I could work for you.

I have all the
jockeys I need.

Please give me
a chance, sir.

I'll muck
out the stables,

clean the yard,

anything you want.

I'll think about it.

Thank you, Sir Robert.

Sir, at the house,
you better come quick.

Why?

There's trouble, sir.

I told you
Lady Beatrice is unwell

and does not
wish to be disturbed.

I think she'll make an
exception in my case.

I'm sorry, sir.

I have strict
instructions.

Are you going to let me
speak to Lady Beatrice

or will I have
to use force?

You'll answer to
me first, Brewer.

This gentleman
is most insistent

upon speaking to
her ladyship, sir.

I warned you
never to come here.

Our business can be
discussed at your office,

not here.

I've tried to settle this
matter on many occasions.

As you well
know, Sir Robert.

You've got a nerve coming
here after New Market.

I'm leaving nothing
to chance this time.

Perhaps Lady Beatrice
will be more prepared

to listen to reason.

Your grievance
is with me, Brewer,

and with no one else.

It would certainly be of
concern to Lady Beatrice.

Robert, who are
these people?

And what do they want?

I'll tell you what
I want, Lady Beatrice.

Get him out of here.

I want what's
rightfully mine.

Get out.

Go while you
can still walk.

I'll be back,
Lady Beatrice.

Good day to you.

I'm sorry you've
been upset, my dear.

What did he
mean, Robert,

what's rightfully his?

Nothing for
you to worry about.

But I do worry, Robert.

I know you too well.

He won't bother us again.

What should we do if
he does come back, sir?

If he does come back,

I'll deal with him myself.

Watson, do you
know a bit of racing?

I ought to.

I paid for it with about
half my wound pension.

Then I'll give you my
handy guide to the turf.

Your what?

Does the name Sir Robert
Norberton recall anything?

Careful.

He's got a horse running
in the Champion Stakes.

He lives at
Shoscombe Hall.

His stables
are known locally

as Shoscombe Old Place.

But you don't know
the man himself?

I never met him if
that's what you mean.

He has a reputation

of being rather
a dangerous man.

How dangerous?

I remember an
instance some months ago

when he horsewhipped a
man on New Market Heath.

Samuel Brewer,

the Carson Street
moneylender.

What was the reason
for this assault?

Well, I imagine that
Sir Robert had a grudge

against moneylenders.

Or is heavily
in their debt.

Well, by all accounts,

he's so far
down Queer Street,

he may never find
his way back again.

I received a letter
from John Mason,

the head trainer
at Shoscombe.

It arrived an hour ago.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

you will no
doubt have read

of the disappearance
a number of days ago

of Samuel Brewer.

In the interests
of my employer,

Sir Robert Norberton,

I should like to visit you

to discuss a matter
of the utmost urgency.

He suggests a
convenient time?

And already is
several minutes late.

Samuel Brewer's
disappeared.

The newspapers
make a lot of it,

but let's hear more
about Shoscombe.

Well, the
Shoscombe spaniels,

special pride of the
lady of Shoscombe Place.

The wife of Sir Robert
Norberton I presume.

No, no, He never married.

He lives with
his widowed sister,

Lady Beatrice Folder.

You mean she
lives with him?

No, no, the
place belonged to

her late husband,
Sir James.

What should be
amiss at Shoscombe?

What indeed?

(Knock at the door)

And here I expect is
the man who can tell us.

Yes?

My eggs were hard boiled.

There's a Mr. Mason
to see you, sir.

Thank you,
Mrs. Hudson, show him in.

Sir.

If you'll come this way.

You got my note,
Mr. Holmes?

Yes.

But it explained nothing.

It was too
delicate a thing

for me to put the
details on paper.

It was too complicated.

You may rely
on the discretion

of my friend and
colleague, Dr. Watson.

Please sit down.
Thank you.

Mr. Holmes,

I think
Sir Robert Norberton

has gone mad.

Please, this
is Baker Street

not Harley Street.

Why do you say so?

I believe Shoscombe Prince

and the Champion Stakes

have turned his brain.

Shoscombe Prince?

Watson, you're invaluable.
A horse?

The finest
in England, sir.

The truth is Sir Robert
has got to win this race.

He's up to his neck,
and it's his last chance.

He's wagered everything

he could raise or
borrow on the horse,

and he's holding
off his creditors

till after the big race.

Oh, if the Prince fails
him, he's done for.

And you're assuming
there's a connection

between
Sir Robert's debts

and the disappearance
of Samuel Brewer.

He's Sir Robert's
principal creditor,

and I don't
mind admitting

there's no
love lost between them.

Well, after what
happened at New Market

I'm not surprised.

But that was
just the start.

Brewer showed his face
at the hall last week,

and Sir Robert flew at
him like a man possessed.

Said he'd deal with him

if he ever showed
his face there again.

I presume he
has not returned.

I don't know, sir.

Not for sure.

I see.

In the event of
financial catastrophe,

would Sir Robert
have any claim

on his sister's estate?

None at all
as far as I know.

She only has a
life interest in it.

It reverts to her
husband's brother

after her death.

In the meantime,

her ladyship draws
the rents every year.

And her brother
spends them?

That's about
the size of it.

He must lead a
most uneasy life?

Well, maybe so,
but they've always been

the best of friends.

They have the same tastes.

She loves the horses
as much as he does.

Or at least she did.

Every day at about 12:00

she'd ride down to
the stables to see them.

And above all,

she loved the Prince.

Good morning, Beatrice.

I can't wait
to see their faces

when this
delightful creature is first past the post.

What say you, Mason?

The others won't
stand a chance, sir.

A three-length win,
wouldn't you say?

Three and a
half, at least.

Just beware of
raising your hopes too high, Robert.

You're not the only
one who'd like to see

his horse win the
Champion Stakes.

I'm the only
one with a horse

like Shoscombe Prince.

Why he's on
such good form,

you could ride him to
victory yourself, my dear.

I think not, Robert.

Our riding days are over.

You should be
resting, my dear.

No, I'm fine, Robert.

Really, I'm fine.

You know what
the doctor said.

You fuss even
more than he does.

Jasper, good dog.

And how's Carrie today?

Oh, very well,
thank you, Sir Robert.

But for the past week,

her ladyship has
driven past the stables

with never so much
as a good morning.

Do you think there's been
some sort of quarrel?

And a bitter, savage,
spiteful quarrel at that.

Now, he never
goes near her.

She hardly
leaves her room

except to take
her daily drive.

And I assume that
you have witnessed

such a disagreement?

Well, no, not exactly.

But why else
would he give away

her pet spaniel,
Mr. Holmes?

She loved that dog as
if it were her child.

Can you think of any
reason why Sir Robert

would wish to upset his
sister in this fashion?

None at all.

It's a cruel way to treat
a woman with a weak heart.

It's damn rotten.

I must say
he does not appear

to be committing any
crime that I recognize.

So why did Sir Robert
leave the house

at the dead of night,

and who was
the man he met?

Go on.

Well, it was
Stephens, the butler,

who saw him leave,

and he told
me about it.

So the next night
we followed him.

(unintelligible)

So who was it,

Samuel Brewer?

It was too dark
to see his face.

When did Sir Robert give
away his sister's dog?

A week ago today.

Jasper was howling
like a banshee

at the mill house,

but that was
no good reason

for the master
to do what he did.

(Dog howling)

Sir Robert.

I want it off
this estate.

I don't care
what you do with it

just as long as I never
have to see it again.

Yes, sir.

I gave the dog
to Sandy Bain,

the jockey.

Right then, Jasper.

Let's you and I go
for a drink, hey.

Come on.

Next morning, he took
it to Josiah Barnes,

the landlord at the
Green Dragon in Crendall.

Does Lady Beatrice
have a companion?

Her maid, Mr. Holmes.

Just the one?

Carrie Evans.

But she's been with
her this five years.

And is no doubt devoted?

She is devoted enough,
and I won't say to whom.

Uh-huh.

I can't tell tales
out of school.

Sir Robert is something
of a lady's man, hey?

Do you not
think the quarrel

between brother
and sister may lie there?

Oh, that scandal
has been pretty clear

for a long time.

But Lady Beatrice may
not have seen it before.

Let us suppose that she
suddenly found it out,

and she wants to be
rid of the hated maid.

He will not permit it.

She refuses to
speak to him.

And Sir Robert
in his anger

gives away her dog.

There's more to it
than that, Mr. Holmes.

Mr. Mason,

you have the
advantage of us.

Perhaps there is something

that you have not told us.

There's a central
heating furnace

in the cellar.

It's been
off for some time,

but Sir Robert
complained of cold.

And had it on again.

Harvey runs it.

He's one of my lads.

He didn't like the
look of it, Mr. Holmes.

And he brought
it to me last night.

How often does Harvey
attend the furnace?

He makes it up
every evening,

and then he leaves it.

So anyone can visit
it during the night?

I suppose so.

But the lad has the
key to the outer door.

I see.

What is the name of that
tavern you spoke of?

Green Dragon.

Is there any good
fishing in that part

of Parkshire?

There's trout
in the millstream

and pike in the lake.

That's good enough.

What do you make
of it, Watson?

It's the upper
contour of a femur.

Human?

Without a doubt.

It's a bluff, sir.

Anyone could have sent it.

It could be a tout.

I don't care who it is.

I need to know
if there's any truth

in what he's written.

Carrie will be in
charge of the house while I'm away.

Carrie, sir?

Your concern must be
for the Prince's training.

Nothing is more
important than that.

Fifty-three,

Fifty-four,

Fifty-five.

Yes, ma'am?

Thank you, Stephens,
please take the tray now.

Fifty-six.

I leave at dawn.

Two rooms is
it then, sir?

And two glasses
of your best ale.

Right, sir.

Holmes?

Hm?

Sh.

Good day, gentlemen?

Hello, old fellow.

Oh, ladies, I'm so sorry.

I didn't see you
sitting there.

There's quite a bite in
the air, isn't there?

Oh, you'd much rather
be free, wouldn't you?

Landlord!

Is it really necessary

to keep this dog
tied up like this?

If I didn't, sir,

it'd be off back
to the owner in a jiffy.

You see, sir, Jasper's
a Shoscombe spaniel.

Oh, I should have known.

You see, I'm quite a
dog enthusiast myself.

Wait.

Be careful
with that luggage

or I'll skin you alive.

Don't you mind him, sirs.

He takes after his mother.

Out for a bit
of fishing, hey?

We thought we might try
and land a pike or two

at the Hole Lake.

You might find
yourselves in the lake

before you were through.

(Laughter)

Why is that?

That Sir Robert is
terrible jealous of anyone

who might be
spying on his stables.

Well, we're not touts.

He's the sort
that strikes first

and speaks afterwards.

Watson, I think we
should take a little walk

before lunch.

Well, that's
a splendid idea.

Do you think we could take
the dog with us, Landlord?

By all means, gentlemen.

But mind what I said
about Sir Robert.

It's this way, Watson.

What about Sir Robert?

By my estimate,

he should be well on
his way to York by now.

How do you know that?

Because I had a
telegram sent to him.

Holmes, what have
you been up to?

Of course,
Palmer's the Favorite

is stabled
somewhere near York.

I merely advised him
that the horse has shown

much improvement
in the last few days.

He won't be pleased when
he finds he's been duped.

I'm sure he'll be furious.

Jasper.

Jasper.

Come on boy, hello boy.

How are you aye, hello.

Jasper.

Here.

Hm.

Do I know you?

No, but evidently,
Jasper knows you.

You must be Sandy Bain.

Yes, sir.

It was you
that brought Jasper

to the tavern last week.

That's right.

You're fond of animals?

They're all
God's creatures, sir.

I won't see no
harm come to them.

Mr. Mason seemed to think

that Jasper had
a lucky escape.

He must have
had a reason

for behaving like he did.

I'm sure Sir Robert
had the best of motives.

No, I'm talking
about Jasper.

He's always
such a quiet dog.

Well, something must
have happened to him.

At the millhouse?

No, sir.

The cellar?

No, sir, at
the old church.

It was the same morning

I brought him to
the Green Dragon.

It's an old ruin chapel,

and under it
there's a crypt

which has a
bad name among us.

Jasper.

Not that way.

Jasper.

Jasper, come back.

Jasper, come back.

Jasper.

Jasper.

Jasper.

Come on, boy.

Come on.

I'm not playing games now.

Jasper.

(Crying)

How far are we
away from the hall?

About a quarter
of a mile, sir.

I'm correct in thinking
that Lady Beatrice

takes a drive
about midday?

Yes, sir.

Thank you, we've not
a moment to lose.

Come Jasper,
come Watson, come.

Stop the
carriage, Watson,

stop the carriage!

Excuse me.

Could you direct us to
the Green Dragon in town?

Drive on, drive on.

Stay, stay back.

Stay back.

Well, there's
nothing we can do

until Lady Beatrice takes
her drive again tomorrow.

You still
haven't explained

why I risked my
life this afternoon.

To test a theory.

You must be
very disappointed.

I was almost
killed instead.

On the contrary, I think
my little experiment was quite successful.

I fail to see how.

The dog, Watson, the dog.

Did that suggest
nothing to you?

Well, Carrie Evans
is determined

to keep the dog and
her mistress apart so.

There is an alternative?

Yes,

that Sir Robert
has done away with

the moneylender,
Samuel Brewer.

Don't forget.

Don't forget the human
bone that was found.

I haven't forgotten.

It's perfectly
clear to me.

They've crossed
swords before.

It's possible
that Sir Robert

has gone too
far this time,

and is guilty of murder.

What the boy found

is all that remains

of the unfortunate
moneylender.

Oh, no, no, thank you.

I'm famished.

Ah.

A fresh catch, Mr. Holmes?

Best I've seen
in a long time.

These are deep
waters, Watson.

Deep and rather dirty.

I would like to borrow
the key to the cellar.

For what purpose,
Mr. Holmes?

To get inside.

Where is Sir Robert?

Well, Sir Robert
left for York

early yesterday morning.

He isn't expected back
till some time tonight.

I'd show you around
the house myself,

but master left
Carrie in charge,

and she won't let
anyone past the door.

He left a maid in
charge of the house?

I told you
things were bad

between master
and her ladyship.

Whereabouts is
Lady Beatrice's room?

It's on the ground
floor, Mr. Holmes,

on account of her
ladyship's heart.

Precisely on the
ground floor where?

Second room in the
corridor beside

the cellar passageway.

Has there
been any change

in the running
of the house

since we spoke
at Baker Street?

None that I can think of,
apart from the fact that

I had to dismiss Harvey,
one of my stable lads.

Wasn't he the
one that found the bone in the furnace?

That's right.

What is the reason
for his dismissal?

Well, he'd
stolen some money

from somebody on
the staff and so.

Ah, here's the Prince
himself, Mr. Holmes.

Every inch a champion,
wouldn't you say?

Yes, he's a very
fine creature,

but you're the
expert, Watson.

Hardly an expert, Holmes.

I am aware of the
Prince's bursts of speed

over a final furlong
but the fact is

he hasn't yet
won a major race.

Do you think he's still
in with a good chance?

If he's given the
ground, then yes.

All right, all right,
hold your horses.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

Good afternoon.

You must be Stephens.

That's right, sir.

I'm a doctor.

Well, Sir Robert asked
me to call on his sister

at the first opportunity.

I'm new to the area.

Well, he said nothing
about it to me, sir.

Well, he must
have forgotten.

Hardly surprising for a
man as busy as Sir Robert.

I'm afraid her
ladyship is out

taking her carriage
exercise at the moment.

How long is she
likely to be?

Well, no more than
half an hour, sir.

Well, in that case
I don't mind waiting.

You appear to be in
some pain yourself.

Well, it's the
rheumatics, sir.

These old bones
have taken a pounding

in their time.

Health's not what it was.

Now, why don't you
tell me about it?

Beg pardon, sir?

Well, now that I'm here,

I might as well
make myself useful.

Oh, that's very
kind of you, sir.

Thank you.

Well, it starts in
the bottom of my wrist.

And then it goes up.

In your shoulder?

S.B.

Of course,
the worst time is

first thing
in the morning.

My back and my legs,

oh, stiff as a board.

And my feet,

did I tell you
about my feet?

No.

Oh, I'll tell
you about my feet.

Blocks of ice,
like blocks of ice.

Can't feel them sometimes.

Your blood's not
circulating properly.

It's a common problem.

And then there's
the other trouble.

The other trouble?

You know,
the other trouble.

I've tried everything,

but it doesn't make
any difference at all.

I'm in just as much
agony now as I ever was.

Roll it right up.

(Bell ringing)

Oh, that'll be
her ladyship.

She's back early.

Please excuse me,
but I'm afraid

I have another
urgent appointment.

Almost there, my lady.

Thank you, Stephens,
we'll be all right now.

Thank you, Stephens.

Right you are, Miss.

Strange.

Holmes, thank goodness.

Fortunately, the bedroom
is on the ground floor.

Did you have any luck?

A few things are
still unclear,

but before the
night is out,

I hope to have
solved the mystery

of Shoscombe Old Place.

If Samuel Brewer
returned to the hall

to demand his money,

he might have
done so at night.

He could have been the man

that Sir Robert
met at the old church.

Perhaps Sir Robert flew
into one of his rages

and killed him,

and in a moment
of sheer panic

tried to
dispose of the body

by putting it
into the furnace.

Hence, the note case.

Watson, the vibrations!

If perhaps maybe I admit

all the evidence
we have so far

is purely
circumstantial.

Oh.

Resin.

Resin?

On an alcohol base.

Traces of it on a
few strands of hair

found in
Lady Beatrice's room.

Come, Watson.

The telegram will not

keep Sir Robert
away much longer.

Where are we going?

Sir Robert.

What happened
while I was away?

Nothing, sir.

Don't lie to me, Mason.

Something's been
going on behind my back.

Has anyone been around
here asking questions?

No one, sir.

Apart from some people
I met near Crendall.

I don't know their names.

What did you talk about?

Nothing much.

They were interested
in the old church.

Fool!

Well, if Samuel Brewer
was not the victim,

why was his
note case found

in the cellar of the hall?

Who else in the household
has the initials S. B?

S.B., S.B.

Sandy Bain.

Harvey was dismissed

for stealing from other
members of the household.

One of his duties

was to tend to the
furnace in the cellar.

Well, the fact remains
that the body was burned.

If it wasn't Brewer's,

then whose was it?

Holmes.

What could you
possibly be able to find

in a place like this?

The lead
lining's been cut.

Just as I thought.

The bolts have
been loosened.

Watson, I'm going to need
your help to open this.

Holmes, that's
desecration.

Who are you?

What are you doing
on my property?

Do you hear?

Who are you?

What are you doing here?

Oh.

(Screaming)

Ah, Mr. Holmes,

what's happened?

A good question,
Mr. Mason.

One that should be
directed at Sir Robert.

Oh, blasted
contraptions.

How dare you?

Get out.

I was going to
join you for tea,

but I see I'm too late.

Get out this instant or
I'll call for Sir Robert.

Sir Robert knows
that I'm here.

Please, Miss Evans,
will you sit down?

I felt I couldn't visit
Shoscombe Old Place

without paying my
respects to Lady Beatrice.

Oh, you have brandy
with your tea?

For medicinal
purposes, of course.

I see, I see.

But is it enough I wonder?

Enough for what?

Brandy revives
the spirits.

I hardly think
it is sufficient

to raise the dead.

Don't move, Miss. Evans.

That should be
comfortable enough

until your own
doctor arrives.

Thank you.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

Perhaps my name
is familiar to you.

I know appearances
are against me,

but you must
believe that

I could act
in no other way.

I'm very happy to
hear you say so.

But I fear
your explanations

must be for the police.

Please, Sir Robert.

The responsibility
for what has been done

is entirely mine.

Ms. Evans and Joe Barnes

were merely
following my instructions.

You must promise that
they will come to no harm.

I can promise you nothing.

But I will hear a plain
statement of the facts.

Very well.

You've clearly
gone pretty deeply

into my affairs,

otherwise I should
not have found you

where I did.

I've always known
that if Beatrice died,

the estate would revert

to my
brother-in-law's family.

Everything
would be seized,

including the
stables and the horses.

Well, Mr. Holmes,

my sister did die,

just a week ago.

And you told no one?

I had little alternative.

If I told the truth,
I faced absolute ruin.

But if I could stave
things off until the race,

I knew all
might be well.

Beatrice died of
the heart condition

that had long
afflicted her.

That will be for
a coroner to decide.

Her own doctor would
certify that for months,

her symptoms had
threatened such an end.

Joe Barnes came to
see me in search of work

a day or two
before Beatrice died.

He seemed a
trustworthy lad,

and it came into
my mind that he might

for a short time

impersonate
my dear sister.

It was but a case

of appearing daily
in her carriage

for no one need
enter her room

save Miss. Evans.

Of course, I had to take
her into my confidence.

The whole deception
distressed me greatly,

but I could see no
other course to take.

Naturally,

the body couldn't
remain in the bedroom.

On the first night,

Joe and I carried it out

to the old mill house.

We were followed
by her pet spaniel

which afterwards howled
continually at the door.

So I felt some
safer place was needed.

I got rid of the dog,

and we carried Beatrice

to the crypt
of the church.

It seemed to me to be
no unworthy resting place

if we put her for
a time in the coffin

of one of her
husband's ancestors

lying in what is still
consecrated ground.

I paid my respects
to her there every day.

As to the old relics

which we took
from the coffin,

Joe and I removed them.

He descended from
the bedroom at night

and burned them
in the furnace.

Was it necessarily to
lay that monstrous trap?

I was determined
that no one

should disturb
my sister's rest.

But how you
suspected her death

I cannot imagine.

Well, yesterday,

when Miss. Evans ordered
the carriage to drive on,

I concluded that she
was afraid of something.

I suspected that
something was Jasper.

Miss. Evans knew that dogs
do not make mistakes.

He would have known that
it wasn't his mistress.

But we must leave
all this for the police.

But why?

A day or two
is all I need.

Say nothing yet
I beg of you.

The race will
have been run,

and my nightmare
might be over.

I loved Beatrice
with all my heart,

and there was no
indignity or irreverence.

I don't feel I have
wronged the dead.

I realize that my
motives were selfish,

but my sister would
not have wished

to see me destroyed.

That does not entitle
you to break the law.

Listen to this, Holmes.

Following the success
of Shoscombe Prince

in yesterday's
Champion Stakes,

Sir Robert has received
sufficient winnings

to settle all his debts

with enough left
to reestablish him

in a fair
position in life.

Ah.

However, the
victory was marred

by the sudden death

of Sir Robert's sister,

Lady Beatrice Folder

whose love of horses

was at least as
great as his own.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

Even the elusive
Samuel Brewer

has returned from
his hideaway in France

to send a telegram
of congratulations

to Sir Robert on his win.

It transpires
that even creditors

have their creditors.

It explains
why Samuel Brewer

was so anxious
to get his money back.

But to send a telegram,

such a bare
faced hypocrisy.

So how much did you win
on Shoscombe Prince?

Twenty guineas.

That's disgraceful.

Champagne, Mrs. Hudson?

Of course, in the
circumstances.

Well, that's
very good of you,

but I've only
won 20 guineas.

Plus my ten.

You're not the only one
that likes a plunge

on the horses from
time to time, Doctor.

Oh, gee.

Well, tsk, tsk,
tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

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