All language subtitles for 1959-1978 The Hound of the Baskervilles 巴斯克維爾的獵犬.ENG

Monsieur le Docteur Watson,

what is keeping
Monsieur Holmes so long?

Reassurez-vous
yourselves, Sisters,

your holy relic will be
with you momentarily.

But we have been
waiting almost one hour.

Mr. Holmes is a
very busy man, Sister.

Monsieur Holmes is an
homme trés occupé, Sister.

But tomorrow is the
festival of Saint Beryl.

Already, thousands
of blind cripples

are flocking to the chapel,
hoping to kiss the relic.

In the name of all the
flocking blind cripples,

I beseech you.

I'll see what I can do, then.

God's truth!

Holmes!

Holmes, are you there?

No, Watson, I'm in Budapest!

Oh, sorry, Holmes,
I'll forward your mail.

I've some very
disappointing news for you.

Apparently, Sherlock
Holmes is in Budapest.

- This is dreadful coffee, Watson.
- And now he's back!

Good of you to come, Holmes.

You remember these three
nuns from Monte Carlo?

Their holy relic was stolen.

The case of the
engineer's thumb, was it?

- No, no, no!
- The, uh, the athlete's foot?

- No, it was St. Beryl's elbow.
- Oh, elbows, feet, thumbs!

With all these cases,
I'll never get any rest!

Now then, ladies.

Monsieur Holmes, who do you think
may have perpetrated this awful crime?

To put it very simply
in laymen's terms

easily understandable to nuns,

I believe this to be
the work of thieves.

The whole pattern is
reminiscent of past robberies

where I have found
thieves to be involved.

The telltale loss of property,
the snatching away of substances,

it all points to, uh, thieves.

But how can you
find such a person?

I'm using a wonderful new system
not even known to Scotland Yard.

I call it "Picture Fit."

Oh, yes!

That's when you piece together
the face of the criminal, isn't it?

Alas, no.

I can only piece together
the appearance of the face

of the criminal.

I cannot piece
together the actual face.

I wish I could, 'cause once
you've captured the criminal face,

the other criminal parts
are not hard to find,

the criminal body being situated
directly beneath the criminal face,

joined, of course,
by the criminal neck.

So, the relic is lost forever.

On the contrary!

You have found it,
Monsieur Holmes?

Of course. Stolen by
one of your congregation.

Cripples, are they not?

- Oui, Monsieur Holmes.
- Amazing, Holmes!

It's simple, Watson.

I spotted which cripple
it was immediately,

the one loitering around the shrine with
the relic protruding from his waistcoat.

Merci, Monsieur, merci.

Who on earth can that be?

I'd say it was a
middle-aged doctor,

hailing from Dartmoor,

name probably Mortimer.

How did you deduce that, Watson?

That's what he told me when he
made an appointment this morning.

And if I'm not mistaken,
that's him again.

Watson, I'm exhausted
from all these cases.

Look, I'll see him, but
I make no guarantees.

All right, then. All right.

Right, Dr. Mortimer!

- Precisely.
- Ah, yes.

Oh, no, I've left...

Sorry about that. Come on in!

- Thank you.
- Yes.

- Dr. Watson?
- Yes, indeed, yes.

Go right through.

Holmes, this is Dr. Mortimer.

Dr. Mortimer, this
is Sherlock Holmes.

- Please don't get up.
- I had no intention of doing so.

- Watson, fetch this gentleman a chair.
- I'd be delighted to do so!

Yes, indeed. Oh,
my goodness, yes.

Why don't you take
a seat, Dr. Mortimer?

- Sit yourself down here.
- Thank you.

- Oh, thank you.
- Pleasure.

May I tell you how
much I've admired you

- over the years?
- Naturally, but please get on with it.

Let me explain first of
all that I am the executor

of the Baskerville Estate,
valued at over a million pounds,

almost all in property, a vast
expanse of desolate moor.

I read about Sir Charles'
death in the Times.

Natural causes, was it not?

That was for the public.

But it is my opinion that
Sir Charles was murdered,

murdered by supernatural means.

My dear fellow, we are
living in the 20th century.

Aren't we?

Be that as it may,
local legend has it

that a monstrous brute,
a veritable hound of hell,

has been the death of every
single master of Baskerville Hall.

A hound?

Dr. Mortimer, just what
were the circumstances

- of Sir Charles' death?
- Well, Sir Charles Baskerville

was my patient for a
great number of years,

during which time he
was completely sane.

But as the years went by, he
became somewhat of a recluse,

rarely leaving his estate,
and building a huge fence

round the whole of the property.

He became completely and
utterly obsessed with the idea

that the legendary
Hound of the Baskervilles

was going to return
to destroy him.

How extraordinary!

- I see nothing unusual in any of this.
- My thoughts exactly, Holmes.

- Oh, yes.
- I was called to the house

in my official
capacity as coroner

to investigate the
extraordinary circumstances

in which Sir Charles'
body was found.

Do go on, and spare
no detail, however small.

- Get it over with!
- Yes, cut it short!

On his face was frozen a
look of such extraordinary terror

that it was almost
impossible to recognize him.

There was no sign of physical
violence on the body whatsoever.

But close by were footprints,

enormous, unnatural,
unworldly footprints.

Let's have it.

Mr. Holmes, they were...

the footprints of a...

gigantic hound.

Oh, does it have
huge, dripping jaws

and great oozing eyes

and enormous private parts?

- Enormous!
- Oh, God!

But how do you know?

I used to have a little
Pekinese like that.

It used to leap up on the bed
and bare its fangs, and then,

- when I was least expecting it--
- Calm yourself, Watson.

Seems rather
straightforward to me.

Absolutely cut
and dried, isn't it?

Will you be able to
meet the heir and myself

at the Northumberland Hotel
at 10:00 tomorrow morning?

What do you think, Holmes?
Should we meet the 'eir 'ere--

The heir he--

The heir here,
or the heir there?

There, tomorrow at 10:00.

- Here, here!
- There!

There!

May I introduce young
Sir Henry Baskerville,

heir of Baskerville Hall
and 2,000 acres of swamp.

I can't thank you
enough, Mr. Holmes,

for coming here this morning.

I mean, what with you
being such a wonderful sleuth.

You must help us. A sinister
incident occurred last night.

Tell him, Sir Henry.

Well, I went to bed early

- because I felt a bit--
- No, not me, him.

Yes. Okey-do key.

I went to bed early last night
because I felt a bit under the weather.

Touch of dicky tummy, you know.

Runs in the family.

Well, anyway,

I put my boots out to be shined,
and when I got up in the morning,

I opened the door, and
would you believe it?

One of them was missing.

Do you think I'm gonna waste my
time combing the streets of London

for some old boot?

This is a job for an imbecile.

Quite right, Holmes!
Let me deal with this.

Sir Henry, uh...

the boot you allege was
stolen, what color was it?

Brown. Yes, brown.

- Oh, brown, was it?
- Yes.

Exactly the same
color as this boot,

the one we have in front of us?

Of course! I always try
to get two the same color.

It's too much of a coincidence.

- I don't like the smell of this.
- Exactly!

What better way to entice a hound
than to give it some personal object

from which it can derive the
scent of the intended victim?

Yes, Sir Henry
is in great danger.

I'm sorry, I'm not
available to take this case.

Dr. Watson will
handle the matter.

Oh, no!

Oh, no, I've never done
anything on my own before!

I think you have, Watson.

Are you sure you won't
change your mind?

I'm sorry, Dr. Mortimer,
I'm very tired.

I've had a lot of cases.

Being the world's greatest
detective is no bed of roses.

I leave you in good hands.

Good day, gentlemen.
I'll find my own way out.

Yes, he probably will.

Yes.

This is a bitter
disappointment to me.

Well, now, let's get
down to business.

There are one or two things that
have been bothering me about this case.

Firstly, this stick
which you have here.

Dr. Mortimer, I see by this
hair that you are a dog fancier.

Spaniel? Retriever? Labrador?

- Hound, perhaps?
- No, it's a special sort of dog

bred by a friend of
mine on the moors.

It's Mexican. They
call it a Chihuahua.

The hairs get everywhere.

The Chihuahua is a
hairless beast, Dr. Mortimer.

Not on the moors, Dr. Watson.

Naturally,
Dr. Chihuahua--Mortimer.

Where and at what time does
the train leave for Baskerville?

Tomorrow, 12:00, Victoria.

On, no, you can call me John.

We will recognize each other
by wearing pink carnations

- in our lapels.
- Oh, I like pink.

Yes, I do, too.

Are you Dr. Mortimer?

Dr. Watson, of course
I'm Dr. Mortimer.

You know perfectly
well I'm Dr. Mortimer!

Well, where's your carnation?

Sir Henry wouldn't give me one.
He said it would spoil his bouquet.

Yoo-hoo, Watty! I'm in here.

Oh, good God.

I saved you a
seat by the window.

Good thinking, Sir Henry.

Mind the door.

Apart from yourself,
Dr. Mortimer,

who are our neighbors
at Baskerville Hall?

There's this chap Stapleton--
he's the chap with the Chihuahuas--

And his sister.

A strange couple.

Then there's Frankland,

the man who is obsessed
with catching the hound,

and his mistress.

A strange couple.

Then there's Mr. and
Mrs. Barrymore,

who've been at the
hall for generations.

A strange couple.

Then there's Marcia
the scullery maid,

and Perkins the groom.

A strange couple.

What on earth made you think
that? They're a charming pair!

Just a hunch.

I'm really exhausted
with all this traveling.

Oh? Didn't you enjoy your
sea voyage from Canada?

Oh, no, it was terrible!

I happened to be out
for a stroll on the deck

when a storm came up.

Gale winds forced me to
hang on to the rail for dear life

until I could hold on no longer!

Bad show.

Suddenly, this great wave
came crashing over the boat

and washed me overboard.

How ghastly!

It was all I could do to
keep my head above water.

It was horrible, horrible!

Did you manage to
drag yourself up on deck?

Oh, no, I just dressed casual.

We seem to be taking a
devil of a time to get to the hall.

Yes, I thought I'd
take the pretty way, sir.

It's the hound!

Stop there a while.

Whoa, now. Stop down, sir.

Steady, whoa.

And me only married a month.

Good job I was
wearing the appliance.

- Dr. Mortringer.
- Yes?

We're still searching for
Selden, the vicious ax murdener.

- Oh, yes.
- Oh, yes!

I remember.

He's the man who escaped just
before Sir Charles was found dead.

That awful man that went
around hacking people to pieces

and sending the bits to his MP?

That's the one, sir. And
you'd better watch out.

'Cause they've seen quite a bit of
him around Baskerville Hall recently.

And you'd better
tell your friends there

they'd better be careful.

- Drive on, Perkins.
- Drive on, Perkins.

- Drive on, Perkins.
- Drive on, Perkins.

- Drive on, Perkins.
- Drive on, Perkins.

Good-bye, dears.
Catch that fiend!

Strange couple.

Oh, oh, don't!

Oh, what are you stopping for?!

Go on! Yes!

The Barrymores have been practically
bedridden since Sir Charles died.

For heaven's sake, woman!

Very difficult to
arouse elderly people.

Yes, I've tried everything.

Thank God you arrived!

I thought you'd never get here.

Mr. Barrymore, I want
to introduce the new heir,

Sir Henry Baskerville,
and his friend Dr. Watson.

They're here until Saturday
for the reading of the will.

Dr. Mortimer, who the
devil do you think you are,

getting me knocked
up this time of day?

- Hubby and me was fast asleep.
- I want you to show Sir Henry

and his little detective friend
the usual Baskerville hospitality.

Mr. Barrymore will
relieve you of your clobber.

Yes.

Mrs. Barrymore?

I would like to get
started right away.

Perhaps you would be
so kind as to show me...

show me to my...

- my clues.
- Your what?

My clues.

Oh, clues!

Well, let me see.
What can I show you?

This, of course,
is Baskerville Hall.

Is that a clue for you?

- Baskerville Hall!
- Yes! Yes, it is!

Yes, indeed, but...

forgive me, this
is just the hall

of Baskerville Hall, isn't it?

Oh, yes. Everything
points to that.

- Yes, that's right.
- Mrs. Barrymore?

Will you get us something to
eat? We're absolutely famished.

My stomach's chattering away!

I don't know,
really. Some people!

- Yes.
- Oh, Mr. Barrymore.

What have you got there, Arthur?

- Cheese, Ada.
- Oh, cheese, my word!

We are bein' indulged
tonight, aren't we?

That's a bit better
than coq au vin.

And cold tea.

This'll have your circulation
whizzin' in no time.

Shall we adjourn to the
dining room, Sir Henry?

Yes, I want to see the dining
room and the ballroom, everything.

To think all this is
going to be mine!

Oh, you don't wanna
see the dinin' room, darlin'.

I'm not havin' you trekkin'
all that food over the house.

I'm tellin' you
that for nothing.

I'm not wastin' my time
cleanin' up after the two of you

this time of night.

Come on! Eat up.

There's good boys.

- There you are.
- Good God!

I could've put you in the
master bedroom, of course.

But you'd have been
overawed, wouldn't you?

You would, I know your type.

You like to live
casual, you detectives.

I'm not a detective.

Of course you're not, darlin'.
Whoever said you was?

Now, come on, you boys.

I want to explain the
rules of the house to you.

- Are you listening?
- Yes, oh, yes.

My husband and I,
we like to get to bed

about 5:00 of an afternoon.

We're not gettin' any younger.

At least, Art is
gettin' on a bit.

Or rather he's not gettin'
on as much as I'd like him to,

if you catch my drift.

Anyway, we like to get up
at about 2:00 of an afternoon,

but then we have our
own affairs to attend to.

- Yes, quite.
- But from 4:00

to 4:15, all yours.

Anything your heart
desires, you have only to ask.

And you know how to get hold of
us if you want anything, don't you?

- No. Good

That's wonderful.

Sleep tight.

I love your jim-jams, Watty.

Very smart.

Thanks very much, Sir Henry.

I think we ought
to get some sleep

because we've got a
very hard day tomorrow.

If you want anything
in the night, just whistle.

I've got ears like a hawk.

Yes, I'm a very light sleeper.

Yes, me, too.

Good God!

Excuse me, is this the, uh,

Piccadilly Health and
Relaxation Spa de Paris?

That's right.

I wonder if it would be
possible for me to have a, uh,

a massage?

By all means.

Here's a list of our services.

Thank you.

Yes.

What do I get for the Gentleman's
Half-Hour Lunchtime Refresher?

Well, for five shillings,
you get a basic rubdown

with flour and water.

But most of our clients
find the Caesar Special

rather more stimulating.

It's slightly more expensive.
That's ten shillings.

Sunken bath, toga-clad masseuse,

and, of course, a
complimentary grape.

It's an odd way to
spell "grape," with an

Do I get a choice of...

- ladies?
- Naturally.

A vast selection of
delectable damsels

awaits you behind
the beaded curtains.

One guinea, please.

Good evening, ladies.

I have a ticket for the
Bacchanal Boudoir.

Wake up, Watty, wake up!

I was just looking
out of the window.

I think someone's signaling.

Mr. Barrymore?

I see you are flashing.

The winds may
squall across the hall,

we flash our light
throughout the night.

I saw someone else
signaling across the moors.

It's moors code.

I've heard of that.

I think you gentlemen
had better go to your room.

- It's way past your bedtime.
- No, no, no, Mr. Barrymore.

I've got some investigations
to do outside to see who is--

Good night, gentlemen.

Well, now, that's, uh...

You put it that
way, that's different.

- Good night!
- Yes, indeed.

Call that flashing?

I could you show you a flashing
would make your hair curl.

- First time here?
- Yes, it is.

What's your name?

Watson, John Watson.

- What do you do, dear?
- I'm a doctor.

My boyfriend always
wanted to be a doctor.

He's working down at the docks.

Here, have you got any contacts?

You know, somebody who
might give him a few breaks?

Not really, no.

He don't wanna do no
operations or nothing like that.

He's quite willing
to start diagnosin'.

You know, for a start.

He's ever so clever.

Only the other day,
he said I had a cold.

Come on, turn over.

Oh, I'm sorry, dear.

You call this a
Bacchanal Boudoir?!

More my idea of a
medieval torture chamber!

Who do you practice
on, elephants?

Hold it! I know that face!

Here, Patsy, Nell!

Who do you think's been
havin' a go with old Siv?

Bloody Sherlock Holmes!

You're right, Siv, it's him!

You have put on a bit
of weight, haven't you?

Yes, look at it!

Here, you don't look much
like your drawings, do you?

Well, you three ladies are
not exactly what I'd expected!

Service is not included!

So I noticed!

- What are you doing here, Sir Henry?
- I was so scared!

Can't you hear all those awful
noises coming from downstairs?

It's been going on like
that for the last three hours!

Why didn't you wake me sooner?

...flowing bowl, until
it flows right over

Come, landlord,
fill the flowing bowl

Until it runs right over

For tonight we'll
merry, merry be

For tonight we'll
merry, merry be

For tonight we'll
merry, merry be

Tomorrow we'll be sober

I told you to stop
that. I'm warnin' you!

- Only having a bit of fun, Ada.
- Hello, hello, hello.

What's going on here
in my dining room?

We're having a little family
get-together, that's what.

Mr. Barrymore's sister
Ethel popped over.

Say hello, Ethel.

Come, landlord, fill the flowing
bowl, till the cup runs over!

Now, dear, no! It's
gettin' him all excited.

It's always the
same, it's the meat.

Here. Here's a grape.

Anyway, I don't seem to remember

inviting you, Dr. Watson,

nor you, Sir H.

Excuse us.

Pardon us for living!

I don't need a house
of bricks to fall on me.

How mean!

- All that food.
- Yes, I know!

Did you notice that
woman with the loud voice

and enormous weapon?

Yes, of course.

Do you think she's
Selden, the ax murderer?

Oh, no, no, no.

Surely you saw the
amazing resemblance

between her and Mr. Barrymore.

Same eyes, same
nose, same mustache.

- That's his sister, all right.
- Oh, yes!

- Oh, yes, indeed.
- How silly of me.

You see, I'm a detective,
I'm trained in that area.

I hope it's a nice day tomorrow.

I'm looking forward
to seeing my moors.

It'll be lovely. Yes,
seeing your moors.

Oviatt?

Mrs. Tindale?

Mrs. Gray?

I don't think the spirits will
be too pleased with that.

Thank you.

Hands on table,
fingers touching.

Are you there?

Are you there, Mr. Taramasalata?

Speak, whoever you are!

Have you no word of comfort

from Mr. Oviatt, my
beloved husband?

He's enjoying his tennis

and says to keep
using the mouthwash.

Be guided by the
spirits, Mrs. Oviatt.

I will. Oh, yes, I will!

Are there any other
astrals in the room?

Raise up, O table!

Make your presence felt.

They're really here.
They're really here!

Raise up, O table!

Raise up, O table!

Come down, O spirits.

Even unto this dark
and joyless basement.

- Raise up, O table.
- Stop that, Iris!

Table?!

Raise up, O table!

This table doesn't
hear too well.

Excuse me while I deal
with this malignant spirit.

Don't leave this room
except by the door.

Sherl!

- You, my son, a common thief!
- I was just passing by,

I thought I'd drop in my
laundry and get a bite to eat.

- I thought you'd be asleep.
- Asleep?!

I haven't slept for 18 years, ever
since your beloved father died.

- Don't bring up father, Mother.
- Oh, why not?

Why not? You drove
him to his death.

My God, all that snooping
into other people's business!

Detecting, detecting, detecting!

Pesticide! My own
son guilty of pesticide!

- It's "patricide," Mother.
- Oh, so you admit it, do you?

You never change.

No, you treated him as
badly as you treat poor Watty!

Watson is perfectly all right.

"Perfectly all right” indeed!

Oh, I'm sure, yes.

No, don't tell me.

You and Watty have had a
quarrel and he's walked out on you.

Frankly, I don't blame him.

Now you've got nobody to
cook for you, to do your laundry,

So you come snooping round here
to steal a lonely old woman's pork pie.

My God! And Mrs. Mott
tells me that you went

to that disgusting
brothel down the road.

A woman twice my age
fingering and fumbling my boy!

I think it's disgusting!
Disgusting!

Where's Watty, what's
happened to him?

- Mother--
- No, don't tell me.

Oh, my God, I see it clearly.

A volcano, palm trees,

a desert island.

I wish you'd give
up this psychic hoax.

- It could land us both in trouble.
- I don't have to answer that.

Or maybe I'm under
arrest for your crimes.

Could I please have
something to eat?

You can have anything you
like from me, my diamond.

Iris and I are here to
help you. Remember Iris?

She's my link with
the spirit world.

Oh, yes!

- Stop it, Iris.
- Mother!

I like to strike a happy medium.

I know my business,
thank you, Sherl.

By the way, don't mention
death in front of Iris.

Would you like to make my
little boy a cup of tea, Iris?

Oh, yes.

Yes, stupid cow.

- Now, then, Sherl--
- Mother, please don't call me "Sherl."

I've always called you
Sherl, and I always will.

You should have seen
him when he was a little girl.

I never was a
little girl, Mother.

Lovely little golden
curls, impish sense of fun.

I used to put you in
the loveliest dresses.

You were the prettiest
girl on the block.

Has it all gone now?

Has it all gone?!

Anyway, let me
bring you up to date

on all the wonderful things
that have been happening here.

1 wrote to you about
my stroke, didn't I?

- Yes, Mother.
- Yes.

Let's get you out of these
clothes, they're very smelly.

- Come on, change of clothes.
- I want something to eat.

Yes. I think it was a
combination of things, you know.

My brother came round,
my Brother Bernard.

He was drunk as a lord.

He was so rude to me,
I said, "Bernard," I said,

"Don't be so rude.”

I said, "Don't be so
damn rude to me."

I was so upset. Well, I
went out to the shops.

Went out to the shops to
get some fish for Sparky.

I always walk there
and back, you know.

And on the way
back, I met Mrs. Pratt.

She said to me, "Mrs. Holmes,"

She said, "I hear you've been
talking about my Joyce again."

I said, "What do you mean?

What do you mean, your Joyce?"

She said, "About
her having a baby

and not being married."

I said, "Mrs. Pratt,"

I said, "Excuse me," I said,
"I don't talk about your child."

I said, "I've got better
things to do with my time."

I was so upset! I came
home, I went straight to bed.

And then, Daddy came to
me at the bottom of the bed.

He said to me, "Come, Ada.

Come," he said, "You're
tired. Come with me.

Enough's enough.” I
said, "No, my darling.”

I said, "No. I've got to
wait here, on this earth...

until my son, my little
baby, is happily married."

Anyway, I woke up in
the morning, didn't I?

I woke up in the morning,
and thought I had neuralgia

because the window was open,

there was a very chilly
wind coming through.

And the doctor came to
me and said I'd had a stroke,

'cause my face was all
lopsided, it was like that.

Of course, it's all
gone down now.

Iris found me. I was four
hours faced own in the toilet!

Anyway, enough of that.

What about Watty, eh?

I expect you've made
him one of your irregulars.

Mother, please don't
interfere in my business!

Hey, hey, don't you tell me.

Don't you tell me when to
interfere and when not to.

I'm your mother. I'll interfere
when I bloody well want.

And Watty! You know he can't
handle an assignment on his own.

Mother, if he's in any danger,

I'll hire another irregular or runner,
or I'll go down to the moors myself.

Yes, I hope so.

Because, if not, I'll
go down there myself.

You understand? I'll
go down there myself!

- All will be well.
- Oh, sure, you'll never regret this.

- You'll never regret it!
- He's a nice boy.

Don't interrupt, Iris.

What a terrible morning!

All this awful fog.

Watty! Watty, where are you?

Watty! Wakey-wakey, Watty.

Morning, Sir Henry.

Looks like a really
damp, humid day today.

Yes, I know. My
hair will be a mess.

You stay here and I'll
go to the telegraph office

and cable Holmes
about Barrymore's sister.

I'd love to go with
you, I really would.

I told you, we can't risk that.

You stay here and get
on with your knitting.

Good morning, gentlemen.

Morning, Mr. Barrymore.

Lovely day, isn't it?

I've never seen fog
this bad in all my life.

It must be absolutely
awful outside.

I won't be able to
investigate anything.

No, it's as clear
as a bell outside.

What do you mean?

You know what they say,

"Fog on the moors,
clear skies indoors.

Fog in the house, sun's
out for field mouse.”

- I've never heard that before.
- Nor have I.

See for yourself.

Oh, it is a lovely morning!

You'll be able to look
for your clues after all.

Oh, yes! Beautiful, isn't it?

Ahem, Barrymore,

perhaps you would be able
to show me the exact place

where Sir Charles died.

Yes, I remember
the night clearly.

My wife would not allow Sir
Charles to use his indoor bathroom,

so he staggered
out to this one here.

I see.

This is Mrs. Starborgling,
our sitting tenant.

Been squatting there for years.

Oh, you mean that my
poor, dear, sweet uncle,

Sir Charles, lost
his life trying to reach

this dreadful toilet?

Yes. This is the very spot.

Oh, how awful!

Hello, hello!

What've we got here then, eh?

Good God!

If I'm not mistaken,

these are the prints
of a gigantic hound!

What do you say, Barrymore?

I never poke my nose into
other people's business.

Be that as it may, I have
to talk to the neighbors.

Where do the Stapletons live?

They're over in Merripit
Hall on the moors.

But it's very
dangerous out there.

You might get sucked
up by Grimpen Mire.

Very unpleasant.

Nevertheless, I have a job
of work to do, Mr. Barrymore.

Sir Henry, I want you
to stay in your room

and not venture out on the moor.

You see how close the hound came

- to get at Sir Charles.
- I won't leave my room.

Investigations...

Investigations...

Good morning, sir.
What can I do for you?

- Do you work here?
- Yes, sir.

Would you mind
keeping your voice down?

I have a rather
confidential message

I wish to telegraph to London.

Thank you.

"Del-fear Hol-folmes, stol-fop.

Stal-farted
investal-figations, stol-fop.”

- Right.
- That seems simple enough, sir.

"Dear Holmes, stop.
Started investigations, stop.

Stopped investigations for today,
stop. Working nonstop, stop.”

Good God, man,
you've broken the code!

We don't use this one
anymore, it's a bit out of date.

- Oh, I--
- Now,

if you want a really
undecipherable code,

you wanna have a
word with my Glynis.

Glynis!

- Gentleman here needs a code!
- Oh, just a--

Confidential, top secret!

She'll be right here, sir.

- Bad night, madam.
- Pardon?

She's illustrating the code,
sir. She's always talked like that.

I don't understand.

It's the code of opposites, sir.

Everything she say is the
reverse of what she means.

- "Good morning, sir" is--
- "Bad night, madam.”

That's it. You give
this a whirl, Glynis.

- Not on your life.
- That's a good girl.

"Dear Holmes, stop.”

"Horrid Holmes, start.

"Stopped investigations, start.

"Re-stopping investigations
yesterday, start.

Not working not nonstop, start.”

I got a much better one.
No one's ever cracked it.

Oh, yeah, Mrs. Grainger,
she's got a beauty.

You show this gentleman your
sausage and mash, Daphne.

- I rather liked the last one.
- No, you wait till you hear this.

Every word that begin
with an "S" or an "M,"

she substitutes
"sausage” or "mash."

Go on, Daphne, give it to him!

"Dear Holmes, sausage.

"Sausaged
investigation, sausage.

- Sausage investigation--"
- Oh, wait a moment!

There's something I've
got to add at the end.

How would this go?

"Barrymore has a
very peculiar sister."

"Barrymore alfa salfa
belfry pelficulia silfistra.”

"Barrymore has a
very normal brother."

"Barrymore has a
very peculiar sausage.”

- I'm getting a bit confused.
- Don't you worry, sir.

I'll combine all three
codes and send it in Latin.

Hello, Dr. Watson.

Dr. Mortimer?

How go the investigations?

Oh, uh...

slowly, um, but
surely, thank you, yes.

By the way, I wonder if you
could help me with something?

Certainly, what?

I don't suppose it means anything,
but as I was crossing the moor,

a chap threw an entire
side of beef at me.

Is that a local custom?

Oh, no, no, that was Frankland.

He's out on the moors every single day
throwing out meat as bait for the hound.

He's obsessed by the brute.

Do you think I ought to
have a word with him?

Yes, I would.

I have my own suspicions,
ever since he expressed

an enormous grudge
against Sir Charles.

Oh, really?

What was that about?

Never found out, but perhaps
you could unearth something, eh?

- Yes.
- He lives out by Grimpen Mire.

Oh, it's beginning to smell.

Beautiful piece of sirloin
steak, what a lovely cut.

I've only had a cheese
sandwich since I got here.

Chunk of chop, marvelous.

What a beautiful piece of rump.

Must come from an animal
the size of a cathedral.

Perhaps Sir Henry and I can
have a secret feast tonight.

Oh, best end of
lamb, it's in, Miss.

What a piece of
luck to fall on this.

Gotcha!

Who the hell are you? How
dare you touch my meat!

Aren't you Mr. Frankland, the expert
on the Hound of the Baskervilles?

Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.

Aren't you that midget detective
that's come down from London?

Yes, the very same.

Well, you better step inside.

You have so many
trophies, Mr. Frankland.

I enjoy the
excitement of the hunt.

Have you ever
killed an elephant?

I don't remember.

There's nothing
like the thrill of a kill!

Well, I've heard of your
reputation with the hound.

Yes!

I've been after him for years.

I've been living in this swamp
with all the fog and the filth

like a dog!

- But I'll get him in the end.
- Oh, yeah.

You see, it takes an animal

- to find an animal, don't it?
- Oh, yes, indeed.

- Have you seen him?
- No!

But some of my
best friends have.

I can hear their screams
in my ears even now.

What happened?

Seventy-eight of
my nearest friends

devoured in one night.

Are you sure it was a hound?

Were it a monster
would devour his victims

and go "woof woof"?

Of course, quite so, yes.

Yes, did--

Did you know the
late Sir Charles?

That gutless bastard!

You didn't like
Sir Charles, then?

Like him? I hated him.

He tried to seduce
my little Mary.

My poor, helpless little Mary.

I caught another one, my dear.

Set it down there.

Mary, this is Dr. Watson.

My pleasure.

Nice to meet you.
Your husband was--

What, what, what?!

Lover.

Oh! Oh, God.

Your lover was telling me how--

How his friends were
massacred by the hound.

It's quite true, isn't it?

I thought I'd dreamt it all

or that I was insane or drunk.

But me drunk?!

You seem to be a
very rational man.

Yes, I am rational!

I'll sniff him out
all over the ground

and find him in his lair and
whenever we shall meet, I'll--

I'll strangle him, like this!

Just like this!

I'll go, then. I think
I'll be off now, you see.

Yes, I hope you catch it!

Come in!

- Good day.
- Good day.

- Very good of you to come along.
- Not at all.

- You saw the advertisement.
- Yes, I certainly did.

- Mr. Spiggott, is it not?
- Yes, Spiggott's the name.

Detection's the game.

I see.

Spiggott is the name
and detection is the game.

You're it!

Mr. Spiggott, we're
not here to play tag.

I thought you might
have enjoyed a game.

Not in the least. If you'd just
settle down for one moment, please.

All right, all right. No
need to be like that.

Mr. Spiggott,

you are applying, are you
not, for the job on the moors

- as a runner?
- Right.

Mr. Spiggott, I...

I couldn't help noticing,
almost immediately--

- What?
- that you are a one-legged man.

Oh, you noticed that?

When you've been in the
business as long as I have,

you get to notice
these little things

almost instinctively.

Well, you're bound
to, ain't ya, really?

Now, Mr. Spiggott,
you, a one-legged man,

are applying for the job

- of a runner.
- Yes, right.

A job traditionally associated

with a two-legged man.

That's right, yeah.

And yet you, a unidexter,

- are applying for the job.
- That's right, yeah.

A job for which two
legs would seem to be

the minimum requirement.

Well, Mr. Spiggott,
need I point out to you

with overmuch emphasis

where your deficiency lies

as regards landing the job?

- Yes, I think you ought to.
- Yes, perhaps I ought.

Need I say with too much stress

that it is in the leg division

that you are deficient?

- The leg division?
- The leg division, Mr. Spiggott.

You are deficient
in the leg division

to the tune of one.

Your right leg, I like.

It's a lovely leg for the job.

As soon as I saw it
come in, I said, "Hello!"

"What a lovely leg for the job!"

I've got nothing
against your right leg.

The trouble is...

neither have you.

You fall down on the left.

- You mean it's inadequate?
- It's inadequate, Mr. Spiggott.

- Sod it.
- And in my view,

the sight of a one-legged runner

hopping across the moors

might draw unwanted attention.

But don't despair,
Mr. Spiggott, I mean, after all,

you score over a
man with no legs at all

by 100%!

Oh, yeah. Well, I've got
twice as many, haven't 1?

- Exactly!
- Yeah.

So, there's still hope?

Of course there is still hope.

I mean, if I get no
two-legged runners

in here within, say,
the next 18 months,

there is every chance
that you, a unidexter,

will be the very type of person

I shall be attempting to contact

- vis-a-vis the job.
- Oh, marvelous!

I'm just sorry I can't be
more definite at this stage.

But you must understand
that the detection industry

is a very precise one,

and I can't afford to take
any risks whatsoever.

Thank you, good-bye!

Thank you, Mr. Spiggott.

Oh, one thing, Mr. Spiggott!

What?

Good luck.

Excuse me.

Oh, good God, what a scare!
I thought you were the hound!

Shut up!

Shut up! Be quiet! Ease back--

What on earth do you think
you're doing to my dog?!

You'll pay for this,
you and your kind!

I was just walking across the
moors from Baskerville Hall, and--

Baskerville Hall?

Oh, you must be Sir Henry.

We've all been
waiting to meet you.

You can't imagine how
pleased we are that you've--

You've finally arrived.

- And you are, your name is...?
- Yes, yes.

- What?
- Your name?

- Stapleton.
- Oh, Mr. Stapleton,

I was just on my way to see you

about this mysterious hound
that is supposed to have caused

- Sir Charles' death.
- Supposed to?

We on the moors know it could
only have been the dreadful hound

that lives to wreak vengeance
on the cursed Baskerville family.

You shouldn't be out
here, you're not safe!

The hound wants
you, just like the rest.

Well, so far, I seem to have
been in more danger from your dog.

My doggies wouldn't harm a fly.

- You're just the same as your uncle.
- How do you mean?

Come, come, you must know how
your uncle despised my Chihuahuas.

He accused them of
fouling up the moors,

he put up fences to stop me
taking them onto his property.

My little darlings, my angels.

They've as much right to
the moors as any Baskerville!

- Quite so, quite so.
- And you won't stop us, either!

No, no, of course not, no.

Did you see how
sweet my baby is?

Look at him.

Oh, he just wants
to make friends.

He just wants to sit in your
pocket and be your friend.

- Don't stick him in my pocket.
- Look at that. Just look at that!

- See how he loves you now?
- Oh, yeah.

My little darling. You got
him excited, you monster!

I'm sorry, I didn't
mean to upset him!

- Give me my baby!
- All right.

You don't understand him,
he just wants to be friendly.

Yeah, well, thanks very much.

Look...

No, thanks very much.

You'll have to meet my
sister and have a cup of tea.

Yes, well, I'd be very interested
in making her acquaintance.

She can't wait to meet
you. We live just over there.

You couldn't put--

You couldn't put your
dog down, could you?

Good heavens! And run the risk
of him falling into the swamps?

Doesn't take long for a
little dog like this to go under.

- Oh, quite, I'm sorry.
- Don't apologize, it's so feeble!

I'm sorry! Sorry, I didn't
mean to say "sorry."

By God...

I hope I'm not imposing
on you, but I must say

I would appreciate a cup of
tea. I'm absolutely parched.

Welcome to Merripit
Hall, Sir Henry.

That's my sister. She's
a little under the weather.

Ah, nothing serious, I trust?

Just a little something
she picked up on the moor.

I hope she gets better soon.

You know how women
tend to exaggerate.

- Yes.
- Beryl, poor dear,

claims that on the
night Sir Charles died,

that she encountered the
Hound of the Baskervilles...

since when she's been
confined to her bed.

Does Daddy's little darling
want a little drinky, then?

Do come in.

Forgive the personal
question, Miss Stapleton, but...

- why are you confined to bed?
- Doctor's orders, I'm afraid.

I've been a little
rundown recently.

There we are.

I hope it's not too strong.

No, no, it's very
nice, isn't it?

You brother informs me
that you actually have seen

this legendary hound.

- Is this true?
- True?

Are you another to doubt my
word, another to call me mad?

I tell you, I saw this hound

as clearly as I see you now.

I'm over here, Miss Stapleton.

More tea?

Well, actually,
I've got enough--

No, no, no! Thank you,
Miss Stapleton, thank you!

Thank you, that's enough tea.

I was out on the moor the
very night your uncle died.

I felt this strange urge,

this need to wander
over the Baskerville Estate

and think out the
meaning of my life,

such as it was,

such as it could be.

Yes, I know the
feeling very well, yes.

Oh, I was overwhelmed
by the beauty of the night.

The moon was full,
there was a gentle breeze.

When suddenly,

my peace was shattered
by an unearthly wail!

- A wail on the moors?
- Yes.

A howl so terrifying
that I thought

the very devil
himself was loose,

for out of the swirling mist
leapt a huge, hideous creature,

a hound, with fangs
dripping and glowing,

one eye red and one eye green,

flames leaping
from its nostrils!

Did you notice anything
unusual about it?

No, it was on me in a flash.

I swooned...

as it kept doing things to me,

on and on through the night,

never to be satisfied.

I thought it would never stop.

- It was insatiable.
- How horrible!

Spare yourself any
further pain, Miss Stapleton.

- Really, I quite understand.
- Oh, I knew you would.

I felt it the moment I saw you.

You're someone I can trust,

someone who will protect me!

You must stay and
look after me forever!

I'd love to do that,
but I ought a be going.

- I need you, I need you!
- Now, ease back a bit,

Miss Stapleton,
control yourself!

I don't wanna see that!

Love me.

Love me!

Love me!

Oh, God!

Oh, no!

You're just askin' for it!

Dr. Watson! What on earth
are you doing with my patient?!

- You mean you're not Sir Henry?
- Not in so many words, no.

How dare you take
advantage of me like this?

Dr. Watson, I think
you had better leave.

- I'll let myself out.
- Allow me.

I never knock at
the wrong street door

When I come home at night

My number's 23,
that doesn't worry me

I always know my house all right

I——

Hello, Watty.

My goodness, you
look all tuckered out.

- You must have had a good day.
- Yes, not bad, thank you!

How about yourself?

I did exactly as you told
me. I stayed here all the time.

- I've been as good as gold.
- That's very wise.

We can't be too careful.

By the way, Barrymore told me his
wife had put some food up here for us.

I'm afraid the only thing she left
here all day was a little cold lamb.

That's wonderful, I'm famished.

- Where is it?
- Over there.

Good God!

Good morning, Dr. Watson.

Would you like one of our
auction announcements?

What auction?

The contents and
furniture of Baskerville Hall,

formerly the possessions
of the late Sir Charles.

That's very odd!

The will hasn't
even been read yet.

Good God!

I must get hold of Sherlock
Holmes immediately about this.

Isn't there a telephone
in this godforsaken town?

Sure there is, sir,
down at the post office.

Holmes, it's Watson here.

Listen, it's very urgent you come
down immediately on the next train

to Baskerville, 12 noon train.

You'll be in disguise?

How am I gonna
recognize you, then?

Can't you wear
a pink carnation?!

All right, ladies and gentlemen,
gather round, if you please.

This auction is
about to commence.

Where have you been? The
Barrymores are selling everything.

- You must do something!
- Don't worry, Sir Henry.

I'll attend to this.

Dr. Mortimer?
Dr. Mortimer, please.

Ah, Dr. Watson.

- Nice to see you again.
- Yes, but I'm very puzzled.

I mean, why this sale?

Surely the contents
of Baskerville Hall

are a legitimate part of
Sir Henry's inheritance.

I'm afraid not.

Sir Charles wanted the Barrymores
to have the contents of the hall

in lieu of the wages
that he owed them.

- How very strange.
- Yes.

I think it's very unfair!

Only an animal could live
in a house without furniture.

I mean, there'll be no
place to sit down or sleep!

But Mrs. Barrymore says
you're frightfully comfy

- up there in the loft.
- Oh, yes!

One more day in that cesspool,
I'll be dead of pneumonia.

- Even the mice have webbed feet.
- Yes.

Whoa!

Which one is Sir Henry?

- That one.
- Who?

The tall, funny-looking one.

He's a stranger.
That must be him.

Where? I can't see him.

Oh, he's the one
picking his nose.

Which one?

The one picking his nose
and wiping it on his beard.

Ah, the tall one.
That must be him.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we
come to the next Baskerville victim.

The late Sir Lou,

a portrait of the
very highest grade.

Get on with it, Arthur, I
want my tea, I'm ravishin'.

What am I bid now for
this very unique item?

Might you be someone
to whom I might entrust

a message concerning the
safety of Sir Henry Baskerville?

I might.

I knew it was you.

I've got to talk.

I know about this
hound and your family.

You're not going to
escape the curse, you can't.

Unless I can talk
to you tonight.

Madam, who on earth are you?

I'm Beryl Stapleton,
I live on the moor.

I'll be expecting you.

Is there any further bid you
don't want to make, Glynis?

I wouldn't give you nine
shillings for that bit of rubbish.

Sold for nine to Glynis.

Can't you stop the auction
and save my possessions?

I can't, Sir Henry,
unless I find Holmes.

Holmes, here? I must
have a word with him.

He's here in disguise,
and nobody must know.

Where is he, which
one is it? I must know.

Sir Henry, all
right, I'll find him.

Holmes!

Holmes, where are you?!

I'm right here
behind you, Watson.

Good God, Holmes!

Holmes, my favorite
traveling coat has been stolen.

First your boot, now your
coat-- it's a regular pattern.

No, it was a plain cotton.

Tell me, why did your uncle
see fit to have himself painted

- in such a modernistic style?
- That's not Sir Charles!

Now, we come to the last in
the series of the Baskervilles.

What is it?

It's an interesting
piece of work,

painted by the late Sir Charles
in the last days of his life.

It is, of course,
a self-portrait.

- What of?
- A bowl of geraniums, I'd say.

- I'll give you two shillings.
- Thank you, Dr. Mortimer.

Try for three.

Do I hear three?

Do I hear three?

Going once,

going twice...

- Three.
- I have three.

- Four.
- Five.

- Six.
- Seven.

- Eight.
- Nine.

I have nine shillings from
the gentleman in the back.

- Do I hear ten?
- Who is that derelict?!

I thought it was Sir Henry and
invited him to dinner tonight.

- What?!
- Sold to the gentleman...

Now see what you've made me
do! I've missed the bid. Oh, blast!

Never mind.

See that you invite the
right man to dinner this time.

I think Beryl's signaling me.

Hello, hello, hello!
What's this, then?

Keep your eye on Sir Henry, Watson.
I think that woman has designs on him.

Oh, yes, indeed,
quite right, yes!

- We'll see you at 7:30, Sir Henry.
- Yes, Miss Stapleton.

- What shall I wear?
- Just be there.

Twerp.

I think she likes me.

I don't know why
you bought this.

I don't know where I'm going
to hang it in Baker Street.

Oh, look, a dog!

Exactly. A perfect likeness of
the Hound of the Baskervilles,

painted by the late Sir Charles

and hung upside down by
Glynis, who used to work in the hall

and, as you know, gets
everything backwards.

Exactly!

So, that means that Sir
Charles actually saw the hound

and painted it before his death.

Yes, I think he did paint it
before his death, Watson.

- I don't think he painted it afterwards.
- Exactly!

That means there is actually a huge,
horrible hound out there on the moors.

Precisely.

We can't possibly let Sir Henry
go out there and have dinner

with Beryl tonight.

On the contrary, you
and Sir Henry will dine

- at Merripit Hall as planned.
- Oh, Holmes!

- Ease back a bit!
- Calm yourself, Watson.

- It's only a painting.
- I am calm, isn't I?!

What was that?

Oh, God!

Oh, God! Oh, I knew it!

I knew it!

I knew it, the hound is out
there! I knew it all the time!

Wait for me!

Oh, what's that?!

No, no, no!

Keep away, you foul hound!

That's my traveling coat.

Stolen by
Mr. Barrymore's sister,

"Ethel the Flasher."

Who is, in reality, none other than
Selden, the vicious ax murderer.

- Why was the hound chasing him?
- Because he thought it was Sir Henry,

having been given the
scent from your boot

that was stolen from the hotel.

- Get back into your coat.
- After what you've told me,

I wouldn't be seen
dead in that coat.

That remains to be seen.

God, all our suspects
under one roof.

I'll stay out here. Not a word
about Selden and the hound.

Won't you come inside with us?
I'd feel much safer if you were there.

It's in Watson's hands now.

- Isn't he masterful?
- Yes.

Yes.

- Is that the hound?
- Good God!

Sir Henry! We
weren't expecting you.

But you invited me.

But we still weren't
expecting you.

You had no trouble on the moors?

Well, actually--

Far from it, actually,
Miss Stapleton.

Yes, oh, yes.

No, it was ever so pleasant.

- You might as well come in.
- Thank you.

Let me take your
coat, Sir Henry.

I would like to propose a
toast to the late Sir Henry.

Well, I didn't mean
to be that late.

It's just that when we
were crossing the moors--

There's no need to
explain, Sir Henry.

What is more important is
that I have reason to believe

that a horrible crime is
about to take place here.

Tonight!

Don't tell me you're going
to play detective again?

You're hardly qualified.

Really, Dr. Mortimer?

All it takes to be a
detective is courage,

intelligence, perseverance,

and a gun!

And I've got the gun.

And what do you intend
to do with it, Dr. Watson?

What, indeed, Miss Stapleton?

I expect you are all wondering why
I've gathered you here tonight, isn't it?!

We invited you, Dr. Watson.

I want you to know that I
suspect every one of you.

Except this little girl here.

You take your filthy paws
off of my angel, will ya?

- I'll cuff round your whole head.
- Go, go, go!

You must be hungry
after your long walk.

Why don't you sit down
and have something to eat?

Thank you, I am feeling
a bit peckish, actually.

Pity there's nothing left.

Don't worry about that. It's
so thrilling meeting you all.

No doubt my sister
can find you something.

- How very kind.
- Before you arrived,

we were just discussing
your uncle's willy--uh, will,

which, as you know,
is being read tomorrow.

Oh, yes. I'm longing
to know what's in it.

Yes, as neighbors, we
all share your interest

in the disposition
of the property.

So, what is gonna happen
to that bloody fence?

Restricts me huntin', don't it?

Come out of there with
your hands in the air.

Don't wave that silly
thing at me, Sherl.

For God's sake, Mother,
what are you doing here?

I'll "For God's sake, Mother, what
are you doing here" you, my boy!

Where's Watty and this volcano?

Mr. Taramasalata told
me it's about to erupt!

There is no volcano, Mother.

Why did you lie to me, then?

- Where is Watty?
- He's in there, Mother.

All by himself?

What a dreadful lot
of people he's with!

That one sitting on his right
looks like a complete degenerate.

That's my client, Mother.

What about the
rest? Look at them.

They're continentals,
aren't they? Yes, Jews.

- I'm going in there.
- Shh! Mother!

You'll ruin everything!

He's not safe in there, Sherl.

We're here to help you,
Sherl! Aren't we, Iris?

- Yes, Mrs. Holmes.
- Don't interrupt, dear!

Don't mention
death in front of Iris.

I tell you, that fence is coming down
whether you like it or not, you'll see!

But I'm sure my uncle had a
very good reason for putting it up.

Yes, to deprive my Chihuahuas
of the chance to relieve themselves

where they like, on fresh
ground in a different place!

Listen to the little darlings!

Do you know what it can
do to the soul of an animal,

doing the same thing
every day in the same place?

As far as I'm concerned, where
your little doggies relieve themselves

is entirely in your hands.

We on the moors don't
take kindly to interference

from outsiders.

You'll come round, Sir Henry.

I think it needs something.

I'm sure Sir Henry will
cooperate to the fullest degree.

Well, I don't want to stay
here and be told what to do

with my own property!

Get out, then.

- He's got a point there.
- Don't start taking his side, Watty!

- You make me sick!
- You're upsetting my patient.

- Well, it's not my fault!
- You filthy scum!

Sir Henry?

- Yes.
- I think you had better go.

Your coat, Sir Henry.

Be sure you keep it on,
otherwise you might get wet.

Wouldn't send a dog
out on a night like this.

I'll see you all tomorrow
for the reading of the will.

And then we'll see what
fences are to be taken down

and what are staying up!

Good-bye, Miss Stapleton,

or should it be au revoir?

Mary will see you out.

Filthy varmints!

Au revoir or good-bye?

A simple "no"
would have sufficed.

The hound!

The hound, the hound is loose

It's chasing Sir
Henry, the goose

Poor Sir Henry is
going to be eaten

The hound is after him

My good sir, Sir Hen--!

The hound, the hound

The hound is after Sir Henry!

Sir Henry is in danger

Sir Henry, run for your life

Your life, your life!

Stop, hound, stop or I'll shoot!

Hold your fire, Watson!

The hound is on Sir Henry!

Certainly, and watch.

You let the hound
kill Sir Henry!

That's as may be, Watson.

Let's go down here
and wait for the others.

Wait for the others?
What's the matter with you?!

- We ought to get a doctor for Sir Henry!
- You are a doctor, Watson.

- But--!
- Be quiet, here they come.

What do you mean, be quiet?!

- He got him!
- Oh! Look, Dr. Mortimer.

Oh, dear, dear, dear.

The naughty hound
has killed Sir Henry.

What a sad loss.

On the contrary, Dr. Mortimer.

Sir Henry is very much alive,

and very much in love.

What a nice dog after all.

I think I left the kettle on.

We all appear to have
rather pressing engagements.

- Good heavens, is that the time?
- Looks like it's going to rain.

Holmes, I smell a rat!

Look, they're getting away!
Shouldn't we follow them?

Don't worry, Watson, we'll
soon get to the bottom of this.

What was that?

Help! We're stuck in the swamp!

We've got 'em cornered!
They've fallen into Grimpen Mire!

Brilliant idea to change
that signpost around.

Good day, ladies and gentlemen.

Mr. Holmes, I'm sinking.

Help me out and I'll put
in a good word for you.

Watson! Grab
hold of Dr. Mortimer.

- Stop him sinking.
- Done!

I knew your friends
were degenerate, Sherl,

but I didn't know they
were into this sort of thing.

Don't look, Iris--
hermaphrodites.

Oh, Mr. Holmes!

I see you've managed
to pull one off.

Just as I thought!
They're all in it together.

Oh, very funny!

You've arrived just in time
for the reading of the will.

Watson, if you'd be good
enough to find your way

into Dr. Mortimer's
right-hand trouser pocket,

you'll find just what
we've been looking for.

Come on, hand it over.

Thank you.

In this, we find that the true
heir to the Baskerville Estate

is Sir Charles'
good and docile dog,

the hound himself.

You mean the hound
was his friend after all?

Exactly. In the event
of the hound's death,

the estate would have
reverted to Sir Henry,

and should Sir Henry have
died, gone to his neighbors,

these muddy degenerates.

Then why did Dr. Mortimer
call in you detectives?

He knew that you had
a coronary complaint,

a disease traditionally associated
with rising damp and alopecia.

Yes, all the Baskervilles
have hearty dicks--

dicky hearts, I mean.

His plan was for the hound
to go berserk with delight

at the scent of a
Baskerville and chase you.

And, of course, Sir Henry,
fed with the false rumors,

would drop down
dead of heart failure.

Precisely. And Mortimer
planned for us to witness this event

and shoot the hound.

What a rotten load of
robbers I floated into.

The Baskerville Police patrol
will be here momentarily.

These people can
scarcely sink any lower.

Are you really going to America?

This place won't seem
the same without you.

You've been so kind.

Yes, well, I know, Sir H.

But since the demise of my
sweet brother the ax murderer,

this place holds too many
poignant memories for us.

What are you going to do?

Mrs. Holmes has read our palms.

I must warn you, Mrs. Barrymore,

my mother is mad.

What your mother
said made sense.

She saw chickens in my lifeline.

Chickens?

And fried potatoes in mine.

We are going to
carve out a new life

in a brave new world.

But what are you gonna
do with all those chickens?

And fried potatoes?

Put 'em in little
cardboard boxes

and cover them
with a special sauce.

We will send you a
postcard from Kentucky.

Oh, don't be soppy, Arthur.

- Here's your keys.
- Oh! Thank you.

- Come, Ada.
- Well, good-bye.

- Good luck.
- Good riddance!

Come on, my darling.

Yes, up we go, yes.

Isn't he a lovely dog, Sherl?

To think of all those people wanting
to make Sir Henry scared of him.

What a wicked world
we live in, my darling.

- Oh, yes, yes.
- Do stop chattering, Iris!

I saw you looking at my breasts.

One thing puzzles me, Holmes.

Obviously, the late Sir Charles
was not killed by the hound.

So, what did kill him?

He was on his way to
the outside bathroom.

Obviously, a fatal
attack of acid indigestion.

The Barrymores' cooking
would be the death of anybody.

I told you not to mention
death in front of Iris!

I've lost a medium rare

in a world where
the stakes are high.

Mother, she was not a psychic.

I wish you'd give
the whole thing up.

If it wasn't for Iris
and Mr. Taramasalata,

we would never have
known about the volcano!

For the last time, Mother,

there is no volcano!

"There is no volcano!"