His features were convulsed to such an extent
that at first I refused to believe
it was my friend and patient who lay before me.
To what do you attribute the incredible facial distortion?
Doctor?
-Doctor? -Er...It is a symptom not unusual
in cases of extreme breathlessness and death from cardiac exhaustion.
The post-mortem examination showed long-standing heart disease.
Were any signs of violence discovered upon Sir Charles' person?
None whatsoever.
I may have further questions. You remain on oath. Please step down.
You may step down, Doctor.
Sir Charles gave me orders to prepare his luggage.
It was his intention to start for London the next day.
-For what reason? -At his doctor's suggestion, I believe.
When did you notice that something was wrong?
When I was shutting up at about midnight.
I lit a lantern and went in search of Sir Charles.
His footmarks were easily traced down the dark walk.
"The dark walk"?
It is an avenue of yew trees, sir.
I found Sir Charles's body at the far end.
Were there any traces upon the ground?
None that I observed.
Did you advise Sir Charles to go to London?
-Yes, I did. -Why?
I was concerned about his health.
He was in a highly nervous state. Something was preying on his mind
and I thought the distractions of town would do him good.
Did he confide to you what was preying on his mind?
No.
Sir Charles Baskerville died from the mortal effects of heart failure
due to disease of the coronary arteries.
I am further of the opinion
that the said death was due to natural causes.
Who has escaped?
Come on!
Come on, boy!
Agh!
Where is he?
Yearrgh!
Heurgh!
He's here!
Quick! Agh! No!
Help me!
Quickly!
No!
Selden!
-Hot enough for you, Watson? -Hot enough, Holmes.
I could murder a bottle of Montrochet.
Where shall we dine, Marcini's or Simpson's?
Baker Street.
-Baker Street? Why? -I have an appointment there.
I know no more than that note tells me.
Dr. James Mortimer.
Medical officer to the parishes of Princeton, Grimpen and High Barrow.
Dartmoor.
Dartmoor?
Sir Charles died of natural causes, did he not?
Watson, see what 'B' has to say.
-Heart disease? -That's correct.
-You yourself testified as much. -I did.
Those articles contain all the public facts.
Then let me have the private ones.
In doing so, I'm telling you something
I haven't confided to anyone else.
You withheld information from the coroner's court?
A man of science
shrinks from seeming to endorse a popular superstition.
What superstition?
This is an account
of a certain legend that runs in the Baskerville family.
With your permission, I'll read it to you.
In your own words, Doctor, please.
Just the salient details.
At the time of the Civil War,
the Manor of Baskerville was held by one Hugo,
a wild, profaned, godless man.
Hugo accused his wife
of having an affair with a young man who owned lands
near to the Baskerville estate.
Mad with jealousy, he beat her savagely.
She fled across the moor.
Hugo gave chase.
He caught her and he killed her,
but her hound, devoted to its mistress,
had followed.
It flew at Hugo and tore out his throat
even as Hugo stabbed the creature to death with his hunting knife.
According to the legend,
ever since, the ghost of the hound has plagued the family,
prowling the moor, uttering piteous cries.
A foul thing- great black beast with blazing eyes
and dripping jaws.
Nor can it be denied that many of the family
have been unhappy in their deaths,
which have been sudden and bloody and mysterious.
-Well? -Well, what?
Do you find it interesting?
To a collector of fairy tales...
The death of Sir Charles Baskerville was no fairy tale, Mr. Holmes.
He had taken this legend exceedingly to heart.
Nothing, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night.
More than once, he asked me whether, on my medical journeys,
I'd ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound.
And have you, Doctor?
I can't be sure.
What I do know
is that Barrymore the butler made a false statement at the inquest.
He said there were no traces in the snow near the body.
Perhaps he didn't see any, but I did.
-Footprints? -Yes, footprints.
A man or a woman's?
Mr. Holmes,
they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.
You saw this?
-As clearly as I see you. -And you said nothing?
What was the use?
The footprints did not approach the body?
No.
-Did you notice anything else? -I noticed a change in the shape
-of Sir Charles' footprints. -What sort of change?
The heel of his shoes no longer left an impression.
It was as if he were walking on tiptoe.
If only you'd called me in, Doctor. You have much to answer for.
I could not have called you in
without disclosing these facts to the whole world.
Besides, there is a realm
in which even the most acute and experienced of detectives
is helpless.
I have to tell you that so far,
I have confined my investigations to the material world.
You are flippant, having had no personal contact with these things,
but I haven't asked you to investigate the death of Sir Charles.
How then can I assist you?
Advise me what to do with Sir Henry Baskerville,
who arrives at Euston station in 50 minutes' time.
-The heir? -Hmm.
We enquired about Sir Charles' next of kin and found a nephew- Henry-
who has been farming in Canada.
-There are no other claimants? -None.
Then I recommend that you proceed to Euston to meet Sir Henry.
Say nothing about this matter until I have made up my mind.
Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, call here
-and bring Sir Henry with you. -Thank you.
-What do you make of it, Watson? -It's bewildering.
The changes of footprints, for example.
Why should a man be walking on tiptoe?
Don't be an idiot, Watson, he wasn't walking on tiptoe,
he was running!
Running for his life.
Running until he burst his heart and fell dead upon his face.
Only a man who's crazed with fear
would run away from the house instead of towards it.
Whom was he waiting for?
Why was he waiting in the dark walk on a freezing night
and not in his own house,
the night before he was due to take his departure for London?
The theme takes shape, Watson.
It has a certain...
character of its own.
"As you value your life or your reason,
"keep away from the moor. "
I've stepped straight into the pages of a dime novel!
When did this arrive?
-This morning. -Open yesterday's Times.
The inside page, please. The leading articles.
Yes...
Here we are.
"You"...
"Your"...
"Life"...
"Reason"...
-"Value." -Well, if that isn't smart!
The leaded bourgeois type of the Times is distinctive.
Any possible doubt is removed
by the fact that "keep away" is in one piece
and "moor" was created from "tomorrow".
-So this was clipped yesterday. -With nail scissors.
-Why do you say that? -They were short-bladed scissors
since two snips were needed for "keep away". May I see the envelope?
Who knew you were staying here?
No one. We only decided after I met Dr. Mortimer.
The address has been written in rough characters.
The Times is a paper that is seldom found in the hands of the illiterate.
We may take it, therefore,
the letter was composed by an educated man
who wished to appear uneducated.
His effort to conceal his writing...
suggests that it might be known
or come to be known by you.
I think we've drawn as much as we can from this curious letter.
Dr. Mortimer, you'd better tell your story to Sir Henry,
perhaps on your way to the hotel.
-Shall I have a cab called? -I'd prefer to walk.
We can discuss this further over a late breakfast
at your hotel at 11 o'clock. Is that convenient to you, Watson?
-Perfectly. -Then we will expect you.
Good day.
Right, your coat, Watson! Quick!
There's our man!
Come on, Watson! Get a good look at him if nothing else!
Whip her up, cabbie!
Damnation!
Baskerville has been closely followed since he arrived.
The letter proves as much. Did you see him, Watson?
No. Did you?
-I can swear only to a beard. -Did you get the number?
-It began with a two. -2-7-0-4.
Shall we go after Dr. Mortimer and Sir Henry?
I will. You find out what you can about the cabbie.
I'll see you at the hotel at 11.
Seems they are playing me for a fool in this hotel!
I'm sure it will turn up.
-Lost a boot? -Not one, Mr. Holmes, two.
Last night they took a new brown boot and today an old black one.
I bought the tan boots yesterday evening. Never even had 'em on.
Why did you put them out to be cleaned?
-I put 'em out to be varnished! -Look there. I told you.
And the black one? Don't just stand there! Have you found it?
No, but we will if you'll have a little patience.
It seems a singularly useless thing to steal.
Make sure you do!
You've been doing a good deal of shopping, Sir Henry.
Dr. Mortimer here went round with me.
If I'm to be squire down there, I must dress the part.
Quite so.
It's probably crazy to trouble over such a trifle.
I think it's well worth troubling over.
-You do? -I do.
I've come into an inheritance with a vengeance!
I've heard of the hound and the curse since I was in the nursery.
I never thought I'd have to take it so seriously.
As for the death of my uncle,
I don't know whether it's a case for a detective or a priest.
-Ha! Precisely! -And then there's the letter.
There's one other thing to take into consideration.
There is a convict loose on the moor. He's been out for three days.
He's no ordinary convict. This man will stick at nothing.
He killed his parents in a particularly ferocious manner.
Why was he not hanged?
Because at the time of the crime he was 16 years old.
Is there among your neighbors any man with a black beard?
Why, yes, Sir Charles' butler, Barrymore.
-And where is he? -He's in charge of the Hall.
Did he profit by Sir Charles' will?
-He and his wife had £500 each. -Did they know about this?
Oh, yes. Sir Charles liked to talk about the provisions of his will.
I see.
I also had money left to me.
How much money, Doctor?
£5,000.
-And anyone else? -No. The residue went to Sir Henry.
And how much was the residue?
The total value of the estate
is somewhat in excess of a million pounds.
Indeed? I had no idea such a sum was involved!
It's an estate for which a man might well play a desperate game.
We have to decide whether you should go to Baskerville Hall or not.
No devil in hell nor man upon earth can prevent me going to the home
-of my own people. -Good for you!
-When will you go? -Today.
-You must not go alone. -Dr. Mortimer returns with me.
Dr. Mortimer is a busy man
and his house is miles from yours.
No, you must take someone who will be always by your side.
Report the facts to me in the fullest possible manner-
anything which may seem to have a bearing on the case.
-What is it? -You're armed?
Yes.
Keep a revolver with you, night and day.
Listen to me very carefully, Sir Henry.
You must not go out alone.
Some great misfortune will befall you if you do.
-Did you get your black boot? -No, sir. It's gone for ever.
Well, goodbye.
Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in the old legend
and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness
when the powers of evil are exalted.
-Paddington, please! -Goodbye, Watson.
Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.
That is Baskerville Hall in the middle there.
This small clump of buildings here is the hamlet of Grimpen.
In a radius of five miles, there are only a very few scattered dwellings.
Between and around extends the moor
all the way to the great convict prison at Princeton.
-It must be a wild place. -A worthy setting
if the devil did decide to have a hand in the affairs of men.
What are you doing in my cab?
Tell me about the fare who watched my house in Baker Street!
-What are you talking about? -And followed two gentlemen
down Regent Street. Where did you pick him up?
Where?!
Trafalgar Square.
-How would you describe him? -I wouldn't.
Forty years old?
About your height.
-Black beard. -The color of his eyes?
Sky blue, pink!
I don't know!
-Where did you drop him? -Back in Trafalgar Square.
-Anything else? -He told me his name.
Go on.
As he was leaving
he said, "You might be interested to know
"that you've been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
-Sir Henry? -Yes.
-I'm Perkins, sir, your groom. -Good afternoon, Perkins. Thank you.
They haven't caught the convict?
-They've had no sign of him, sir. -To think of him lurking out there
somewhere on a night like this,
like a wild beast.
Baskerville Hall, sir.
I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months!
Welcome, Sir Henry, to Baskerville Hall!
-Barrymore, yes? -At your service...Mrs. Barrymore.
-I'm driving straight home. -Do stay to dinner.
My wife's expecting me. Don't hesitate night or day to send for me.
-Thank you. -This way, sir.
Right, Perkins!
This way, sir.
This was Sir Charles' room, sir.
The main guest room is just across the corridor.
I'll see you at dinner, Doctor.
I hope you'll be very comfortable, sir.
Thank you, Barrymore.
-Who is it? -It's me, Watson.
Come in.
-Everything all right? -Try the bed.
Ah! The granite mattress- excellent choice!
It wouldn't do to be too comfortable!
-May I? -Sure.
The Baskerville boys. That's my father in the middle.
-This must be Sir Charles. -Yes.
And this?
-The youngest. Roger. -What happened to him?
He got a commission in the Guards
but was drummed out- "conduct unbecoming".
Died penniless and alone, apparently.
Here, allow me.
No wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming in this place.
It's enough to scare any man!
I suppose they'll warm up when you get to know them!
Which one is Sir Hugo, do you suppose?
That is Sir Hugo, sir.
And that, sir, is his wife.
Thank you.
An excellent meal. Please do thank Mrs. Barrymore.
I will, sir.
Well, if it suits you, I think I'll retire early tonight.
Perhaps things will seem more cheerful in the morning.
Good morning.
What do you reckon? Every inch the English country squire!
To the manor born!
I've laid some old clothes out in my bedroom.
-Dispose of them as you see fit. -Very good, sir.
Is this waistcoat all right, do you reckon?
Maybe the double-breasted would look better?
Or the yellow wool?
Wear all three- keep you warm.
I guess it was us, not the hosts, to blame for last night.
We were tired by the journey, frozen by the drive,
so we took a grave view of the place.
Now we're good and rested, it seems almost cheerful.
Yes, although I don't think it entirely imagination.
Did you happen to hear a woman sobbing in the night?
When I was half asleep I heard something. I thought it was a dream.
I heard it distinctly.
Barrymore, did you by any chance hear a woman crying in the night?
There are only two women in the house, Sir Henry.
One is the scullery maid, who sleeps in the other wing, the other is my wife,
and the sound could not have come from her.
I see.
Dr. Watson, I presume?
I'm Stapleton of Merripit House.
You may have heard my name from our mutual friend Mortimer?
-Yes, of course. -How is Sir Henry?
He's very well, thank you.
Human remains.
Look at this.
I hope to excavate the entire skeleton in time.
-What age do you put on it? -I don't know yet,
but it's certainly not recent!
It means a great deal to the countryside to have Sir Henry here.
He has no superstitious fears in the matter?
I don't think it likely.
And what does Mr. Sherlock Holmes make of it all?
Will he honour us with a visit?
He can't leave town at present.
He has other cases which engage his attention.
You're right to be wary. I am justly reproved for my intrusion.
I will not mention the matter again.
Might I introduce you to my sister? A moderate walk along the moor path
brings us to Merripit House.
It's a wonderful place, the moor!
-Absolutely. -You never tire of it!
It's so vast and mysterious!
-Walk where I walk. -You know it well?
We've only been here two years but few men know it better than I do.
What was that?
They say it's the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its next victim.
I've heard it before but never quite so loud.
There are strange sounds on the moor.
Doubtless they're caused by wind in old mine shafts.
If there's anything you want to know about legends or spiritual manifestations,
you must speak to the doctor's wife.
-Really? -She has been known to conduct seances
if the signs are propitious.
She calls herself a medium, peasants call her a witch.
What do you call her?
I call her Mrs. Mortimer.
Merripit House.
Excuse me. I must put these things away before I take you inside.
Of course.
Go back! Go straight back to London! Keep away from the moor!
For God's sake, do as I ask! You're in great danger here!
Hello! I see you've introduced yourselves!
Yes, I was telling Sir Henry how beautiful the moor can be in winter.
If it's been snowing heavily and there is a light rain
with the temperature below freezing,
every bush, tree, reed is sheathed in ice as though in a glass case!
Every living creature perishes! Who do you imagine you're talking to?
I imagine to Sir Henry Baskerville.
No, no, I'm Dr. John Watson, a friend of Sir Henry's.
-We've been talking at cross purposes. -I'm afraid so.
Come inside, before you catch your death!
This is my most remarkable find so far.
Unique upon Dartmoor.
-Certainly a museum-quality piece. -Bronze?
Oh, yes. The pommel is amber.
The studs are gold.
It's beautiful.
I suppose your excavations are the reason you came to this place?
You think it's a queer spot to choose!
-Well... -We manage to stay happy,
-don't we, Beryl? -Yes!
My sister is as devoted to nature as I am. We have our books,
we have our studies,
we have our interesting neighbors.
In fact, you and Sir Henry must meet them.
Perhaps dinner here, Friday?
You'll come?
Please forget the words I said. They were not meant for you.
I can't forget them, Miss Stapleton.
I am Sir Henry's friend.
Tell me, why are you so keen for him to return to London?
You know the story of the hound?
I don't believe in such nonsense- unless you have some information?
I can't say anything definite.
I don't know anything definite.
Why shouldn't your brother hear what you have to say to me?
Please let go of me.
We knew Sir Charles well and miss him more than I can tell.
-A real beauty? -A rare beauty!
Then I accept with pleasure!
I 've never seen so many papers in my life -
game books, household accounts...
I can tell you when the drains were installed and the cost!
Anything of note?
Our friend Mortimer lied to us.
My uncle left him nearly £10,000.
What's it called when the landowner has the right to bed the local women?
Droit de seigneur.
Sadly for you, the feudal system was abolished in Devonshire some time ago.
Shame!
-Do you see it? -Yes.
Come on!
Wait!
Don't move!
Barrymore!
What are you doing here against the window?
I go round at night to see that they're fastened.
What were you doing by the window?
Signalling to someone on the moor.
There it is.
Now do you deny it's a signal?
Who is it? Who is it out there?
That's my business and not yours. I'll not tell you.
Sir Henry!
You leave my employment right away!
If I must, I must.
You scoundrel! Your family has lived with mine for over a hundred years,
and here I find you deep in some plot against me?
No, sir, not against you.
I'm the one he's wronged.
Do you think I'm a fool?
What are you talking about?
Every night he signals to her that I'm asleep
so she can come to him.
Is this true?
Yes, sir.
Who is she?
Where do you meet her?
-In the summer house. -Then let's make her acquaintance.
She'll not be there, sir. She'll only come if the signal...
Please. Please don't make it worse than it is already for my wife.
I'm sorry.
So it was you, Mrs. Barrymore, that I heard crying.
Yes, sir. It was me.
-Good morning, Mrs. Barrymore. -Good morning, sir.
-What is that? -It's a moth orchid, sir.
It should be all right here. It's not in the draught.
What about you, Mrs. Barrymore? Will you be all right?
Yes, sir, I think so. Thank you.
How does a ghoul differ from a fiend?
A ghoul is a demon that prays upon the dead.
-May I have some wine? -Allow me.
An incubus is a devil in male form that consorts with women
-as they sleep. -Or a spectre and an apparition?
Stop it, Jack!
Communication with the other side is possible.
-Do you really think so? -I've experienced it many times.
Holmes would say, "The world is full,
-"no ghosts need apply." -Hear, hear!
Surely he regards a spirit of inquiry as a good thing?
Yes, but he would not accept that two and two make five.
Should we dismiss the evidence of our senses?
-So he has a strictly rational approach? -Yes.
He's amazingly knowledgeable.
Within limits, his knowledge is extraordinary, but it has to be said
that Holmes's ignorance is as remarkable as his knowledge.
When I first met him, he was unaware that the earth travelled round the sun.
Round the sun or the moon, it made no difference to his work.
He acquires no knowledge
that does not bear upon his object. When he's on a case,
he sticks to the scent like a hunting dog.
-So, his knowledge of philosophy? -Nil.
-Politics? -Feeble.
-Botany? -Variable.
He knows all about poisons and nothing about gardening.
Music?
He plays the violin well
but produces little that could be called music!
My wife once received a communication from Paganini
from the other side.
Have you tried to communicate with my uncle since he died?
No, I have not.
What is it you want to know, Sir Henry?
Lots of things, I suppose.
What happened that night?
What he was running from?
What he feared so greatly?
Will you try?
Tell me, Dr. Mortimer,
why did you lie about the amount of money Sir Charles left you?
I was embarrassed, I suppose.
It was such a very large sum.
Sit around the table so that you can join hands,
Sir Henry next to me.
Exclude all earthly thoughts. Give your whole selves to the seance.
Your hand, Sir Henry?
Is he there?
I cannot work the spirit until the conditions are right.
Come in.
Excuse me.
I have got Sir Charles here.
I can feel and hear him.
Sir Charles, what happened that night?
What were you running from?
The hound. The hound!
-Please stop this! -Tell us what it looked like.
Tell us what it looked like.
-What's that? -Its eyes were weeping
red fire!
What was it?! What was it?!
-What are you looking for? -I don't know.
What's that for?
In case I had to turn lion tamer.
-Then you saw it, too. -I don't know what I saw.
What a night!
My uncle has a couple of bottles of excellent old French brandy.
-Would you care to join me? -With pleasure.
Jesus Christ!
Don't move!
I'll shoot.
-There he is! -A lucky shot might wing him!
I won't shoot an unarmed man in the back.
We'll never catch him now.
-Look there. -What?
-What was it? -A man.
A man on the tor. He was watching us.
Good God! What was that?
I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor.
-I heard it once before. -It was the cry of a hound, Watson.
It's hard to say.
Do you believe the gods visit the sins of the father upon the children?
No.
I do not.
It was Selden, the convict.
Yes, sir.
How did he get in, do you suppose?
I can only think that I failed to lock the door properly.
I'm very sorry, sir.
It is exceedingly cold, Watson! Might I come in
-without you shooting me? -Holmes?
Holmes, for God's sake!
I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!
-I've been expecting you. -What?
Ever since I so imprudently allowed the moon to rise behind me
on the Black Tor last night.
-Have you been here from the first? -By no means.
You've used me!
-I assure you... -You don't trust me!
I think I deserve better at your hands!
Forgive me if I seem to have tricked you. Had I been with Sir Henry,
our formidable opponents would have been on their guard.
As it is, I remain an unknown factor,
ready to throw in all my weight at the critical moment.
Why keep me in the dark?
For you to know might have led to my discovery.
So my reports have all been wasted!
On the contrary, I had them sent to Grimpen from Baker Street.
They were only delayed by one day.
I compliment you upon the zeal and intelligence...
You can't win me round with praise! I'm furious with you!
That's your prerogative.
You've been away from your charge for too long.
Your place should be at Baskerville Hall.
My God, what was that?
The hound! Come, Watson!
-Where is it? -There, I think.
No, there!
We're too late!
-It's Sir Henry. -Oh, God!
He's dead, Holmes.
-I shall never forgive myself. -It's my fault, Watson.
In order to complete my case, I've thrown away the life of my client.
We must send for help.
We can't carry him all the way to the Hall.
Good God, Holmes, are you mad?
Look! Look at the hands!
It's the convict- Selden!
But these are Sir Henry's clothes.
Are you coming up to the house?
I see no need for further concealment now. Just one thing,
say nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him think Selden had a fall.
He mustn't know the ordeal he will have to undergo.
-What ordeal? -Come on!
This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
You'd better sit down, Mrs. Barrymore.
-I'd prefer to stand. -I'm afraid I have some bad news.
-They've caught him. -They'll hang him now for sure.
No, Mrs. Barrymore,
your brother is beyond the law.
Oh, Lord!
We found his body as we crossed the moor.
He must have slipped and fallen from one of the high tors.
He died instantly.
Here.
Her brother?
I take it he IS your brother, from the tears you have shed for him.
-Yes, sir. -I still don't follow.
Her name was Selden when I married her, sir.
No further need to signal to him or leave out food for him
or give him Sir Henry's discarded clothes.
Don't be angry, Sir Henry. Any blame lies with me, not my husband.
Anything he's done, he's done for my sake.
And so the story of the lover?
I love my wife, sir. There's never been anyone else for me.
I would rather the police were not involved in this matter.
The Barrymores have suffered enough.
I agree.
They say that blood is thicker than water,
but really, that she should still love him!
-Mentally, he was just a child. -I guess that's how she saw him.
Perhaps he made the noises we heard.
-I don't doubt it. -So you think the matter is cleared up?
I do. You have nothing more to fear.
Well, then,
here's to a very merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas.
I've been moping about ever since my friend here went off this morning.
If I hadn't sworn not to go out alone,
I might have had a lively evening. Miss Stapleton asked me over.
-Indeed? How was the invitation made? -She sent a note.
May I see it?
If you think of a Christmas gift for Miss Stapleton, she wears white jasmine.
I've never seen such a vicious attack.
The anterior jugular is severed.
The flesh has been ripped from the bone.
The larynx has been torn to shreds.
The cast-off clothes were the reason for this poor fellow's death.
The creature was laid on by some article of Sir Henry's.
The black boot from the hotel in all probability.
-Then it's murder. -Refined, cold-blooded...
deliberate murder.
But when nets are closing upon him, there's only one significant danger-
that our man should strike before we are ready.
"Our man"? For God's sakes, Holmes, tell me!
He's local. My analysis of the soil that I took from the cab proved that.
Holmes!
It is Stapleton who is our enemy.
-My God. -He released the animal last night
in the hope that Sir Henry would be on the moor.
Invited by Miss Stapleton.
At Stapleton's instigation, I'm sure.
-It was he who dogged us in London. -So I read the riddle.
-The warning letter came from her. -His wife.
What?
I'm giving you some information now
in return for all that you've given me.
The lady who is passed here as his sister is in reality his wife.
Why the elaborate deception?
Because she is more useful to him in the character of a free woman.
And all this you have withheld from me? I'm telling you, it won't do!
I am to be fully informed from this point onwards!
Of course.
Why is he doing it?
His motives are not clear to me.
Can we arrest him?
We haven't the ghost of a case.
Surmise and conjecture, we shall be laughed out of court.
-There's Sir Charles' death. -Found without a mark upon him.
You and I know he died of sheer fright.
We know what frightened him,
but how are we to get 12 stolid jurymen to know it?
If we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
that the dreadful creature that did this is controlled by Stapleton,
set upon its victims by Stapleton,
maybe then we'll have him.
Let's dance and sing and make good cheer,
for Christmas comes but once a year!
Which do you prefer, Mr. Holmes, turkey or goose?
Sadly, Sir Henry, my preference is of no consequence.
Why do you say that?
Because Watson and I must go to London.
London? When?
-First thing tomorrow. -Christmas Day, there are no trains.
One milk train, hideously early in the morning.
I see.
Watson will leave his things as a pledge that he will come back to you.
You'll stay for tonight's festivities?
We wouldn't miss them for the world!
I'm so pleased you could come.
Mrs. Mortimer, now, you know what that is.
Oh, certainly! The Druids regarded the ceremony of collecting mistletoe
against the winter festival as one of high solemnity and importance.
I was thinking more that I have the right to kiss any beautiful woman
who happens to pass beneath.
Of course, that, too!
-Evening. -Evening.
-You know what that is. -Yes.
How can he allow that?
The fact that Sir Henry is falling in love with her
can only advance Stapleton's cause.
I'll tell you, we have never had a foe more worthy of our steel!
Mr. Holmes.
-Mr. Stapleton. -I'm pleased to meet you at last.
You interest me very much.
I'd hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull...
or such well marked supraorbital development.
Would you object to my running my finger along your parietal fissure?
I should object in the strongest possible terms.
A cast of your skull until the original is available
would be an ornament to any anthropological museum!
I must confess...
I covet your skull!
Everybody!
Open your doors and let me in!
I hope your favours I shall win.
Whether I rise or whether I fall,
I'll do my best to please you all!
If you won't believe what I do say, let Father Christmas in.
Come, clear the way!
Who's he that seeks the hell hound's blood,
and calls so angry and so loud?
With my long teeth and scurvy jaw,
of such as you I'd tear apart a score!
-I feel I want to go. -Not yet.
-Sir Henry wants to dance. -Then dance.
Thank you.
-Do you mind if I smoke? -Not at all.
Hmm...
What is it?
White jasmine!
You know I've barely been out since I arrived?
I've seen nothing of the countryside.
What I really need is a guide...
-preferably a beautiful one. -I'm a little cold.
Wait.
Sir Henry...
You mustn't do this.
-You really must go. -What do you mean, go?
Leave this place!
Sir Henry, Mrs. Mortimer requests your presence on the dance floor.
Of course.
Excuse me.
-Wonderful party! -Thank you.
What were you saying to him?
I can't!
I can't! I won't do anything more to help you!
-Do you want me to hurt you? -No!
-No? -No!
Then why are you making me angry, huh?
Do I scare you?
Huh? Hmm?
Do I?
-Please... -Do I?
Ssh... Ssh...
That's better.
-Where Holmes? -I don't know.
-Where's Holmes? -I think he went up to his room.
Parties are not really his thing. Stay. Let's have a game.
-I don't play. -I'll teach you.
-I don't want to play. -Let me show you a trick shot.
No, I wanted to talk to Mr. Holmes.
What about, my dear fellow?
A word of friendly advice.
Never play Watson, particularly not for money. He's an absolute demon.
I'll remember that.
What was it you wanted with me?
Would you and Dr. Watson and Sir Henry care to join us for drinks
tomorrow at Merripit House after church perhaps?
We cannot, I fear. We must return to London.
On Christmas Day?
Sadly.
We're catching a boat train to the continent on Boxing Day.
-Our services are required in France. -Quel dommage!
Absolument!
I understand you're losing your house guests tomorrow.
I am.
Then you must dine with us tomorrow evening.
You cannot dine alone on Christmas Day! It's too miserable!
I'd be delighted.
Good night.
Thank you.
Our revels now are ended. Glory to God in the highest!
On Earth, peace, goodwill toward men!
-Do you know who they are? -Not all.
Which one is Sir Hugo?
The one with the black velvet and the lace.
Do you see anything there?
Is he like anyone you know?
There's something of Sir Henry about the jaw.
Just a suggestion perhaps.
-Give me a hand here. -What are you doing?
Wait an instant!
Light this.
-Good heavens! -You see it now?
Stapleton!
So he's a Baskerville!
The papers I found tonight in Merripit House
have supplied us with one of our most obvious missing links.
We have him, Watson!
We have him!
-Come on, Watson! -Exeter?!
-Good, there's Lestrade. -Holmes!
-He's here at my invitation. -You're the most infuriating man alive!
-Quite possibly. -Holmes!
-Trust me! -Huh!
You DO trust me?
Inspector!
This had better be good, Mr. Holmes- Christmas Day!
One I suspect you'll never forget.
I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day
I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas Day in the morning
And what was in those ships all three, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day
And what was in those ships all three
On Christmas Day in the morning?
And all the bells on earth shall ring
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day
And all the bells on earth shall ring
On Christmas Day in the morning.
-I can't wear this dress. -You have to.
Here...
-I can't do it. -Oh, yes, you can!
I won't do it!
My dear Sir Henry, good evening.
I'm afraid I have some disappointing news.
Your sister?
My sister is fine but my mother- our aged mother- is not.
Beryl has had to make a mercy dash to Plymouth.
-She's most terribly sorry. -It's perfectly all right.
I shall take good care of you. Go inside and help yourself to a drink.
The blinds are up. See what they're doing, Watson.
Sir Henry and Stapleton are dining. There's no sign of his wife.
-The only light is in the kitchen. -She's not there.
Where is she? I don't like it, Holmes!
It's coming towards us.
It's already ten o'clock. It can't be very long now.
If he's not out in ten minutes, the path will be covered.
In twenty, we won't be able to see our hands in front of us.
-Should we move to high ground? -No, we must stay close.
-I'm taking Sir Henry home! -Watson, I forbid it!
-Take your hands off me! -Someone's coming out!
The horse is lame.
Clever, very clever!
He's thrown a shoe. That's strange.
And Beryl has the carriage.
-You're welcome to stay. -I'll be fine.
At least let me stable your horse for the night.
-That's very kind of you. -Not at all.
-Good evening. -Good night.
Where's he going?
-Let's get closer. -What about Sir Henry?
We must catch Stapleton in the act!
Can't see him! Can't see him!
Wait!
It's coming!
Get after Stapleton, Lestrade! Get him!
Sir Henry! Sir Henry!
Aagh!
Sir Henry! Sir Henry!
He's badly hurt. We must get him home!
Come on!
My God!
What is it?
It's dead, whatever it is.
-Lestrade! -Down here!
This is Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
He has a warrant for your arrest for murder. Lestrade...
meet Jack Stapleton,
real name John Baskerville,
son of Roger Baskerville, Charles' youngest brother.
It was thought that Roger died childless,
but he did not. Late in life, he married a whore named Mary Prescott.
They had one child...
and here he sits,
next in line for the Baskerville fortune, only two people in his way,
his uncle Sir Charles, and his cousin Henry.
Send Perkins for Dr. Mortimer!
I need some strong scissors, Mrs. Barrymore.
You cultivated a friendship with Sir Charles,
and discovered his heart was weak, so you set about exploiting
the superstition that surrounds the Baskervilles.
You tamed the largest, most ferocious hound you could find.
You beat it and brutalized it and you waited for your chance.
Your chance was slow to come, wasn't it?
The old man couldn't be lured out onto the moor, could he?
You needed a beautiful woman as bait. Once he was under her spell,
-it was easy. -Easy? Easy?!
You don't think any of this was easy?
How did I call it on or call it off?
With this.
You used this at the seance to call the creature to the window.
Excuse me.
With spectacular effect!
Don't tell me the great Sherlock Holmes wasn't frozen with fear
when the Hound of the Baskervilles came at him from out of the fog!
"Easy"? It wasn't easy at all!
You think what you've done is special.
It isn't special.
-But it will be remembered. -Oh, I don't think so.
Oh, yes, it will.
Thanks to you, it will.
Oh, my God!
I have to go. Take good care of him, Doctor.
Barrymore...
Perkins!
How could you hope to explain the fact that you as heir
had been living unannounced under another name
so close to Baskerville Hall
without arousing suspicion?
How did you intend to do that?
It's not about the money, is it?
It's about revenge!
Revenge on a family that destroyed your father, allowed him to die
a penniless, syphilitic drunk!
I'm so glad to have met you, Sherlock Holmes.
-Conceited... -A-hem!
opinionated, egotistical,
vain...
All disembodied mind and cold calculation!
You're no match for me!
-No? -You were employed by Dr. Mortimer
to protect Sir Henry Baskerville! How is Sir Henry, by the way?
Well, he's alive, just. Dr. Mortimer's with him. Have you found Miss Stapleton?
No.
But she's not Miss Stapleton, she's your wife!
I have no wife.
You were arrogant enough to show Watson a dagger.
It wasn't found on Dartmoor by a man called Stapleton
but in Kent by a man called Baker.
-Both of you at the British Museum. -I have no wife.
-Your marriage certificate. -I have no wife.
-A wife you brutalized. -I have no wife.
She wouldn't do it this time, she wouldn't bait the trap. She said no!
I have no wife.
Oh...!
Watson! No!
Oh, God! Watson!
Get after him!
Go on!
Grips like the devil, doesn't it?
But you shouldn't struggle. Try to stay calm.
Don't panic.
The only way you can get out of there is to lie down.
That way, you distribute your weight across the surface more evenly,
then you can try to swim to firmer ground.
The odds, however, are very much against you.
I've seen so many moor ponies drown like this.
I suppose the kindest thing would be to...
put you out of your misery.
Goodbye, Mr. Holmes!
The problem now is how to get you out.
Agh!
Now to put my tailor to the test!
Yearrgh!
Arrgh!
Three cheers for Savile Row!
Thank you, Holmes.
An eventful Christmas Day, to be sure!
Stay very still, Mr. Holmes. Don't move, Doctor.
One, two, three.
I have a box for Les Huguenots tonight.
I thought a little dinner at Marcini's on the way.
The answer to your question is no.
What?
No, I don't trust you...
but Marcini's would be nice.