Original subtitles

♪

♪

♪

(clatter)

♪

(cat meowing)

♪

(thunder rumbling)

♪

That's them alright.

Dead men don't light lamps.

Constable Rance is it?

Harry Murcher?

Aye.

Afraid you scared me out of 10 years growth.

You seen that, up yonder?

I have.

A light in a deserted house.

Them that's lived there died of the typhoid.

They're drains.

Maybe he's come back for a squint of the drains

what killed him.

Reckon it's our duty to have a squint too, ay?

Oh yeah, our duty.

♪

♪

We've no warrant.

Give them a yell.

Anyone home?

♪

Blimey.

♪

(laughter)

(mocking ghost sounds)

(whistle blowing)

Murderer!

Foul murder!

Murder!

♪

♪

♪

♪

(gunshot fired)

Holmes.

♪

Holmes!

(gunshot)

♪

No danger, Watson.

I was merely creating a little excitement

to ease the boredom of inactivity.

Hard to use our brains in our profession

when there is no real crime to detect.

Nothing complex,

nothing worthy of my talents.

Interesting.

What?

That chap looking for an address?

Yes, the ex-Sergeant of Marines.

He works for the government now;

police, in all probability.

How on Earth can you know that?

Ah, he's found us.

I'll go.

(knocking on door)

For Mr. Holmes, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Thank you.

Oh, uh, I say, may I ask what your trade might be?

Government employment, sir.

Police work, as you might say.

Were you ever at the Colours?

Man and boy, sir, Marines, three stripes up.

Old army man yourself then?

Oh, uh, briefly, yes.

Good day to you.

And you, sir.

♪

I'll never fathom how you do it.

-That man-- -Former Sergeant ?

Of Marines, quite.

For you.

From Gregson at Scotland Yard.

You remember Gregson?

That smart, young chap?

Smart?

He'd know a hawk from a handsaw, I dare say.

Old rival of friend Lestrade.

No love lost between those two gentlemen.

Ye gods, did I say just now

there were no crimes worthy of our minds?

Watson, your hat.

The game's afoot.

Stop driver!

Stop.

How much, cabbie?

One shilling even, sir.

Thank you, sir.

No man. No.

Go back the way you came.

Oh.

There goes another man in London

who thinks you're mad.

Perhaps you should have told him you're my doctor, Watson.

♪

(murmuring)

♪

Found anything?

It rained last night,

for the first time in over a week.

Driest autumn I can recall.

♪

There, sir.

You can't go in there.

Who does he think he is then?

Sherlock Holmes.

♪

Hmm, yes.

You found something?

♪

Six feet if he was an inch.

Holmes, very kind of you to come.

I've left everything as it was.

Nothing's been touched.

Nothing, Gregson?

Was it entirely necessary to round a herd of buffalo

across the pathway repeatedly?

Or had you drawn your own conclusions

before the stampede?

I, I've had much to do, inside, I mean.

I was relying on my colleague

to look after things out here.

Your colleague?

Mr. Lestrade.

Ah, so, so.

And what have you and your colleague, Lestrade,

found out thus far?

I believe I've...

We've done all that can be done.

How much is that?

Deuce little.

It's a queer business, very complex.

You're stumped?

No.

Why send for us then?

I thought you might be interested.

And so I am, Gregson.

So I am, very interested.

Did you come here by cab?

No.

Did Lestrade?

No. Why?

Good, very good.

Capital, in fact.

So, let us go and consider the unfortunate gentleman.

♪

Who was he?

Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland, Ohio.

Late of Cleveland, Ohio.

Anything known?

Not much, I'm afraid.

After you, doctor.

Good morning, Dr. Watson.

Hello.

Is it Lestrade?

No, it's not.

This is a bad business.

Who found the body?

We did, sir.

Proper horrible it was too, sir.

Me and Murcher here--

All in good time, my dear fellow.

Facts first, details after.

Would you mind?

Oh, yes, sir.

♪

This is a puzzle to me.

You are sure there is no wound?

-Positive. -None.

Then the blood on the floor boards belongs

to a second individual, presumably, the murderer,

if murder has been committed.

If murder's been committed?

How was this done then, do you suppose?

I never suppose, Lestrade.

It biases one's judgment.

The body hasn't been moved?

You see him as we found him, Mr. Holmes.

Just as we found him, sir,

laid out stark and cold...

Blimey.

Very well, take him to the mortuary.

There's nothing to be gained by keeping him.

♪

A ring, a woman's wedding ring.

That complicates matters.

Perhaps it simplifies them.

What else did you find about his person?

Constable?

♪

Barrow of London.

What do you think of that, Watson?

♪

Oh, I couldn't afford such a timepiece

on an army pension.

The gentleman had money.

But no purse.

He carried only loose change to the value

of seven pounds and a few pence.

We've already discarded robbery as a motive.

♪

Enoch J. Drebber, Cleveland.

♪

Joseph Stangerson, Esquire, to be called for

at the American Exchange, The Strand.

The Atlantic Steamship Company giving details of sailing times.

The unfortunate Mr. Drebber was to return to America.

Anything known about this Joseph Stangerson?

I sent one of my men around to the American Exchange.

They've no forwarding address for him.

You've telegraphed Cleveland?

Yes sir, asking for any information which might

assist our inquiries.

What information, specifically?

About Stangerson!

Nothing more crucial?

No sir!

Then telegraph again, man.

This is my case, Mr. Holmes!

I believe I've just solved it for you.

Forget the "ifs" gentlemen.

It's murder, right enough,

and here is the name that will lead us

to the murderer.

♪

Jimson, Mr. Lestrade, Evening News.

It is my professional opinion that the word Rache

is the name Rachel, and that the writer,

undoubtedly the murderer, was disturbed before he had time

to finish inscribing said name upon said wall.

Is it true that Mr. Holmes is involved with the case?

Mr. Holmes has volunteered his services, yes.

And what is Mr. Holmes' opinion?

♪

Rot.

Lestrade's conclusions?

Wall piffle, my dear chap, utter tosh.

6'7" and three quarters.

Splendid Watson.

We are not looking for any Rachel.

Indeed, far from it.

You can't be certain.

Indeed I can be.

But where's the evidence?

Everywhere.

One finds what one seeks, young man.

Although, it does help to know what one is looking for,

rather, how to interpret what one is looking at.

Mr. Holmes, recall our meeting earlier today.

The wheel marks on the drive were fresh and deep.

Since neither you nor Lestrade arrived by cab,

they had to be made last night.

But what's that mean?

It means, Gregson, that two individuals arrived by cab

during the night, and one of them

was Enoch J. Drebber.

The other, Stangerson?

Perhaps, if Stangerson stands six feet tall,

wears hobnail boots, and has long nails

on the fingers of his right hand.

A few observations only, Gregson,

though they may assist you in apprehending the murderer.

Oh, we are looking at murder then?

A very complicated murder, Watson.

No, it's too fantastic.

There's nothing to work on but a body, a ring,

a half-finished word.

You couldn't deduce so much from so little.

Again, recall our earlier meeting.

You found me studying a puddle.

Drebber wore patent leather shoes

and walked around the puddle.

His murderer, however, wore hobnail boots

and stepped across the puddle.

A stride of four feet taken without effort

and indicating legs long enough to substantiate a height

of at least six feet.

Very well.

What about the finger nails?

Ah, observe the word.

It was inscribed with a forefinger.

See how the plaster has been scratched around

the down stroke.

Whoever wrote the word with his forefinger had untrimmed nails.

Elementary?

Quite so.

Then who is Rachel?

A figment of Lestrade's imagination.

You discovered the body, Constable Rance?

First upon the scene, sir.

After you had found the body and raised the alarm,

what did you see then?

Well sir, uh, confusing it was, but I, yes,

I saw a...a drunkard sir.

I saw a man far gone in liquor.

Describe him.

Well sir, he were a long chap.

Six feet and more?

Easily that, sir.

Muffler covering half his face, long brown coat, only...

now that you've forced me mind to it,

I don't think the bloke was tied at all.

No, Constable, neither do I.

Is it important, do you think so?

Perhaps.

What became of him?

I shooed him off, sir, sent him about his business.

Was he carrying a whip?

Not as I recall, sir.

Hmm.

And whoever she may be, the mysterious Rachel

is the heart of this grim and terrible business.

What did Constable Rance have to say?

He gave me the identity of the murderer.

Rachel?

There is no Rachel.

There is a woman involved, of course.

The wedding ring we found shows that,

but she is long dead.

But the name on the wall!

Do you notice anything about it?

Well, it is a medieval script, Germanic.

Exactly, but contrived, my dear fellow.

Are you up in languages, Watson?

Some Pashto, a smattering of Hindi.

I can negotiate the menu in a French restaurant.

No German?

R-A-C-H-E in German is rache,

which means revenge, Watson.

Someone else is going to die.

♪

The plot thickens, Watson.

I have an answer to my American telegram.

My view of the case is the correct one.

What is your view of the case, Holmes?

Do you still have your service revolver, Watson?

-Yes. -Better clean and load it.

He will be a desperate man.

-Who? -The murderer.

He'll be calling this evening between eight and nine.

Read this.

"Found.

In Brixton Road this morning,

a plain gold wedding ring.

Apply: Dr. Watson,

221B Baker Street between eight and nine this evening."

Excuse me for using your name, old fellow.

My fiddle would be better for new strings.

That "G."

Assuming anyone does apply, I don't have a wedding ring

to give them.

This will do.

Keep your pistol ready.

When the fellow comes, speak to him calmly

and don't alarm him by looking at him too hard.

But why should the murderer be anxious for this ring?

It's precious to him, Watson, more precious than a man's life.

The murderer will risk anything rather than lose the ring.

I believe he dropped it while stooping over Drebber's body.

After leaving the house, he discovered his loss

and hurried back and found Constables Rance and Murcher

already there.

Yes, but who is he?

Stangerson?

Definitely not.

That telegram you received this morning told you as much?

Yes.

We are being followed, Watson.

♪

Clumsy Wiggins, that won't do, boy.

No fooling you, Mr. Holmes.

Call your men.

(whistles)

♪

The Bakers Street Irregulars, these youngsters go everywhere

and see everything.

They're as sharp as needles and worth a dozen men in blue.

That we are!

That we are too!

Have you found it, Wiggins?

No, sir.

Not yet we ain't.

Keep on until you do.

Here are your wages.

♪

Come back with a better report next time.

Right you are, Mr. Holmes.

Morning gentlemen.

Mr. Gregson's compliments, sir,

and would you join him at the station?

He's got the Brixton murderer, sir.

His name is Arthur Charpentier,

Leftenant in Her Majesty's Navy.

His mother runs a boarding house in Torquay Terrace,

where Drebber and Stangerson stayed

prior to coming up to London

the day before yesterday.

You got a confession from him?

Not yet.

What I do have is evidence and motive.

The American Exchange had no forwarding address

for Enoch J. Drebber.

I traced him through the label in his hat.

Underwood and Son's Candlewell Road.

The men at Underwood's remembered making the hat

for an American gentlemen living at Torquay Terrace.

He wasn't a gentleman.

He was an animal, a drunken, bullying animal.

He treated my sister abominably.

And that is why you killed him, Leftenant Charpentier,

because of your sister.

I didn't kill him.

I felt like it, but I didn't.

No.

How tall are you, Lieutenant?

Tall?

Why? 5'9".

That proves the young man's innocence, Gregson.

Sorry, Mr. Holmes.

I've got the man and the motive.

Good morning, gentlemen.

Who's he?

The Brixton murderer.

I've had him in custody for five hours.

Then he isn't the murderer.

You've found Stangerson?

I have indeed, at Halliday's Private Hotel.

What's he got to say?

Nothing.

Mr. Joseph Stangerson was killed by a deep knife wound

to the left side, which penetrated the heart.

Who discovered the body?

Me, sir.

The gentleman asked to be called for breakfast.

I come up and there he was, blood everywhere, cold.

Hmm, and you?

I'm the milkman, sir.

You saw the murderer.

I did, sir.

He was climbing out that very window there.

A ladder was up against the wall outside.

I thought he was the hotel carpenter.

Man you saw was tall, wearing a long brown overcoat?

A scarf and that, that's him, all right.

Hobnail boots?

Yes.

"Cleveland, October the 3rd.

J.H. is in Europe."

♪

Strychnine.

And the other pill?

Aspirin.

I don't need a microscope to tell me Stangerson

wasn't poisoned, Mr. Holmes.

No, but Drebber was.

What?

Right.

I may have miscalculated here.

There will be no more murders.

Oh yes?

Certain of that, are you?

I'm as certain as I am of the murderer's identity

and whereabouts.

No.

Do not press me for that information, gentlemen.

I have my own methods, and should this dangerous

and clever man have the slightest suspicion

I am on to him, he will vanish without trace

and make a laughing stock of all of us.

♪

(knocking)

♪

♪

Dr. Watson?

Yes.

I come about your note.

It's in the newspaper, sir.

A wedding ring, what I lost last night

in the Brixton Roads, sir.

Is this the ring?

Bless you, sir, the very one.

Then I am happy to restore it to its rightful owner, Madame .

Oh, bless you, sir.

Bless you, bless you, sir.

No, no, think nothing of it, I assure you.

Goodnight.

Not what I expected, Holmes.

J.H.'s accomplice, Watson.

She'll lead me to him.

♪

J.H.?

♪

Drive to 13 Duncan Street Houndsditch.

Right you are, ma'am.

♪

We're here, ma'am.

Ma'am?

What the--

Now, Madame .

♪

Idiot Holmes!

Baker Street, driver.

♪

(newspaper boy bellowing)

♪

I don't like it.

He slipped through our fingers.

Not yet.

No ship sailed for America until Saturday.

That gives us two days.

If he's sailing to America.

Where else?

His work here is completed.

And of course gentlemen, there are our reputations

to consider.

He's coming, sir.

How the deuce did you get in here, boy?

Slipped through the pantry window, sir.

Never seen such cheeses, best I ever had.

You're certain it's the man himself, Wiggins?

The very one you asked for, Mr. Holmes.

Good boy.

Take this, and don't go through the front door.

I wouldn't know a front door, sir.

There ain't no use in my line of work.

♪

That won't be necessary, Watson.

I have these.

There's the cab.

Conceal yourselves, gentlemen.

Watson, ask the driver to lend a hand with the luggage,

would you?

In here, driver.

Evening sir.

Yes.

Help me with the straps on the large trunk,

would you, cab man?

♪

Quick man, grab him!

-Don't let him get away! -Quick!

After him!

(glass shattering)

Lucy!

♪

♪

Your father was a good man.

I know.

That's what I hated about him.

You might try looking sad, Enoch.

Mr. Drebber.

I'm Mr. Drebber to you and everyone

on my land from now on.

Is that understood, Joe Stangerson?

Sure, Mr. Drebber.

You're the bossman.

And don't you forget it, boy.

♪

Pretty, ain't she, Joe?

Pretty as a picture, that Lucy Ferrier.

Condolences, son.

I'm sorry about your father, Mr. Drebber.

Call me Enoch, do, Ms. Lucy.

No, I couldn't.

How about husband, then?

Dear old daddy always said you and me

would make a fine couple.

You don't have no shame at all.

Come on, Lucy.

I own your land, Jack Ferrier.

Maybe, but you don't own us.

Mrs. Drebber.

Mrs. Lucy Drebber.

(Enoch laughing)

♪

Bad times coming, Lucy.

What he said about me calling him husband?

Forget it!

That man's the serpent in Eden.

♪

Pa, there's someone following us.

Stangerson?

I can't tell.

♪

♪

You okay there, miss?

I'm fine, just fine.

You look just fine to me.

(groaning)

Pa.

Pa!

♪

♪

You saved my Lucy's life, son.

Maybe kept it going a might.

The name is Hope, Jefferson Hope.

I'm looking for an old friend of my pa's,

Jack Ferrier.

You know him?

Reckon so, if I ain't too old

to know my own name.

Your pa and me was like brothers.

I saw you christened.

You're almost kinfolk to me and Lucy.

You planning to stay here a bit?

I'm heading north.

Partner and me got a stake in a silver mine.

I got ambitions.

Oh...

I had 'em myself once, when I first come out here.

All gone now.

Like with Enoch J. playing high and mighty,

this valley's turning sour.

I'd even think about moving on myself

once this fool leg's mended.

Bad time for it to happen, harvest coming on and all,

only me and Lucy to work the place.

That silver mine of yours paying any, son?

I guess it can wait.

Well, this here's your home so long as you're in the valley,

Jefferson Hope, you hear?

♪

I can't rightly decide which of you two young-ins

is blushing the reddest.

♪

♪

I'm going north, Lucy.

That partner of mine wrote me.

Says he's struck pay-dirt.

I don't reckon to be gone long.

I aim to be back for the wedding, leastways.

♪

♪

He's gone, Mr. Drebber.

That's good, Joe.

That's real good.

♪

That little gal just don't care for you, Mr. Drebber.

What's that matter?

I'm closing you down, Jack.

I need your place.

This is my land, Enoch Drebber.

You got no legal claim on it, Jack.

I had your father's word.

Yeah, well, old daddy ain't doing too much talking

these days, and I got plans for the valley.

I put 15 years into this place.

Pity about that.

You did a real nice job, but that's progress.

Of course, we could come to an agreement.

That daughter of yours is a fine, growed up gal,

Jack Ferrier.

Can't imagine a finer candidate

for Mrs. Enoch J. Drebber.

Get off my land!

Go on. Get!

It's your land for three more weeks, Jack Ferrier.

Either I get me a wife,

or you can start packing.

Morning, Ms. Lucy.

♪

One week to go, Pa.

♪

Lucy, I been thinking a whole lot about Jefferson.

I always did wanna see me a silver mine, yes sir.

♪

(glass shatters)

Looks like she run out on you, Mr. Drebber.

Oh, no.

Uh-uh.

No, no.

Burn it!

♪

♪

(gun shot)

Pa! Pa!

Get the girl!

♪

What about the old man?

He's dead.

Pa!

Pa!

♪

♪

Drebber!

♪

Lucy?

No.

No.

No!

Drebber killed her pa, dragged her back here,

and married her.

I've lived a long life, but I ain't never seen a bride

weeping at her own wedding before.

What, what killed her?

Grief, boy.

Grief.

She give me this before she died.

Said she wouldn't be buried wearing it.

Someone should have loved her.

I did!

Two lives for your one precious life, Lucy!

If it takes forever!

I swear it!

Lucy!

♪

(moaning)

Jefferson Hope?

I am.

Gregson, have one of your men run for an ambulance.

Quickly then!

There's not a moment to lose.

Lucy?

Lucy?

Lucy?

Cleveland, one way.

-Second class? -Yes.

♪

First class booking for two, Cleveland to New York,

name of Drebber.

Thank you, sir.

♪

♪

I got the tickets.

I just saw Jefferson Hope.

He's after us.

♪

Get the manager and the police.

♪

There's your safety, Mr. Drebber,

bought and paid for.

Yeah, for the time being.

I told the police you was old rivals in love.

Well, that's all in the past.

We'll be on our way to Europe next week.

Forget Jefferson Hope.

Them two devils led me the merriest chase

you could imagine.

I spent years chasing them, but it were a work in justice

for poor Lucy and old Jack Ferrier.

Rache.

Rache, that's revenge as them Germans say it.

Thought I was being real smart using that bit of German talk

to throw you off my scent.

I near got Drebber and Joe Stangerson

in Berlin, you know.

Is that where you acquired the strychnine tablets, in Berlin?

Sure was.

Them two let out for England,

and by the time I got me to London,

I was down to my last dime.

I needed work real bad.

And that when you took up driving a hansom?

I don't know who you are, sir,

but it seems to me you know more about me than I do.

Perhaps.

That's my function.

Then, just the other night, I got me a fare

to Euston Station.

I got business, Joe, personal business.

All I'm saying is, it's wiser if we stick together,

Mr. Drebber.

You say too much Joe.

I'll be back by 11.

You just hold up in Halliday's Hotel,

and you stay there till I show.

Understand?

Whatever you say, Mr. Drebber.

Right, whatever I say.

Cab, sir?

Torquay Terrace, and make it a quick trip.

I've got you now.

♪

(men arguing)

♪

I've told you before, keep away from my sister.

You come near her again, and I'll kill you Drebber!

My word on that, you animal!

You haven't changed one little bit.

That makes my chore a sight easier.

Stop at the next saloon, or public house,

or whatever it is you call it over here.

Wait for me.

An hour or two more ain't gonna try my patience.

♪

(muffled conversation)

♪

(Drebber laughing)

♪

If one of us is sober, he can drive me

to Halliday's Private Hotel,

Euston Station.

♪

(snoring)

♪

You're here, sir.

Sir?

You're here.

♪

♪

You should have rung the bell first.

It's more polite.

This here Halliday's Private Hotel is a flea pit.

How come a rich man like me

is staying in a flea pit like this?

It ain't right.

Where's Stangerson?

Call the manager!

You hear me, boy?

I hear you, Drebber.

Mr. Drebber, you...

You!

What are you doing here?

It's judgment day, Drebber, for one of us.

Don't kill me!

I can buy my life.

I'm rich.

Take it all, everything!

Only, only let me live, Hope.

For pity's sake, let me live!

Maybe it's me who's gonna die.

The decision ain't mine.

I ain't no murderer.

You're the one who shot down Jack Ferrier.

No!

Joe Stangerson did that!

Then he'll pay for the old man's life,

and you'll pay for Lucy's.

♪

(men groaning)

♪

Don't kill me!

One of these got strychnine.

Take your chances, Drebber.

You're mad!

♪

(Drebber coughing)

♪

♪

Then having murdered Drebber, you drove away to--

Drebber killed himself!

With a little prompting, you'll admit.

Don't upset him, Holmes.

He's getting weaker.

I won't go yet.

Just shows the power of prayer or hatred.

Or love.

When did you realize you had lost Lucy's wedding ring?

On my way to finding Stangerson,

I had to go back for it.

It was like I had lost Lucy all over again.

And when you returned to the Brixton Road,

the police were already on the scene.

That's why I had to act drunk.

I believe I had that bobby fooled too.

Did I?

I think you did.

I knew Stangerson would wait for his boss

for as long as he boss wanted to keep him waiting,

so I just scouted the place out.

Looks real easy.

♪

That you, Mr. Drebber?

No, it ain't.

Drebber is dead.

No!

The hour of reckoning's come for you too.

I'll give you the choice of poison pill,

same as I give your boss.

He flung himself at me.

(men struggling)

♪

And while we were struggling,

he rolled over on his knife.

He would have died at any case.

Providence wouldn't have allowed Joe Stangerson

to go unpunished.

♪

(newspaper boy)

I went on cabbing, intending to raise the fare home.

Then tonight...

this raggedy youngster pulls me up and says,

"A gentleman wants a cab

from 221B Baker Street."

I knew where I was going, but it didn't seem like

I had much to worry about after they arrested Charpentier.

Maybe I wanted to be caught.

Guess I got my wish, huh?

Leastways, justice has been done for Lucy and old Jack Ferrier.

Who was it you sent to collect the ring from Dr. Watson?

Wouldn't do no good for you to know.

After she gave you the slip, she lit out

and took Lucy's ring with her.

Not the original, I substituted another.

I knew you'd try to get it back.

You was on to me from the first, huh?

You left a distinct trail for me to follow.

(groaning)

No more questions, Holmes.

No more time, neither.

♪

Whatever our personal feelings in the matter,

the law must be complied with.

When he is fit enough, the prisoner will be brought

before the magistrates and formally charged with murder.

He's guilty, legally I mean,

but morally, I wonder.

Gentlemen...

a higher judge has taken the matter

of Jefferson Hope in hand.

♪

How did you know the name of the man

we were looking for, Holmes?

The wedding ring stirred my curiosity, Watson.

I telegraphed the Chief of Police in Cleveland

asking for details of Drebber's marital status.

The answer was conclusive.

Drebber was a widower.

However, a couple of years ago, he sought police protection

from an old rival in love named Jefferson Hope.

Hope was arrested, and Drebber and Stangerson

set sail for Europe.

Shortly after his release from jail,

Hope also booked a passage for Europe.

The conclusion was elementary, my dear Watson.

♪

What do you know about elephants, Watson?

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