(Voices arguing in Italian)
(Man and woman shouting in Italian)
Pietro, falla finita.
Mi ha disonorato. È una puttana.
Peggio di una puttana.
Ha disonorato la famiglia e me!
Quel bastardo ha violato il suo onore e quello della nostra famiglia.
Se non fai niente ci penserò io a portare a termine la vendetta di Venucci!
Puttana!
No! No, Pietro!
- Fermati! - Lucrezia...
vieni qui.
(Sobbing)
Puttana!
Fermati!
Portami da Gelder. Portami!
Eh, Beppo!
Bastardo! Hai ingannato a mia sorella!
Hai fatto di mia sorella una puttana.
(Continues shouting in Italian)
(Crowd shouting)
Beppo! (Shouts in Italian)
(Crowd gasping)
(Whistle blowing)
- What are you doing, Beppo? - Bastardo! Traditore!
La pagherai cara.
Porco!
Aaaagh!
(Exclaims in Italian)
Stand back!
We have him at last.
T'ammazzo! T'ammazzo!
(Cackling and screaming madly)
Assassino.
Anything remarkable on hand, Lestrade?
No.
Nothing in particular.
Then tell us about it.
Now you come to mention it, Mr Holmes, there is something on my mind.
It first came to my notice four days ago.
A certain Morse Hudson
has a shop for the sale of pictures and statues in Kennington Road.
(Footsteps)
(Footsteps retreating)
But what happened last night was more serious and also more singular.
(Holmes) 'Burglary.' (Lestrade) 'Exactly.
'The house of a Doctor Barnicott was broken into.
'This bust was one of a pair purchased from Morse Hudson by Dr Barnicott.
'He had put it in his house.'
The other, he put two miles away, in his surgery.
Later that same night...
- This is certainly very novel. - I thought it would please you,
though, in my opinion, it comes more into Dr Watson's line than ours.
- Disease? - Huh? I should say madness.
A queer sort of madness, too.
You wouldn't think there was anybody living nowadays
who had such a hatred for Napoleon Bonaparte!
Ah. Actually, there are no limits to the possibilities of monomania.
There is the condition that modern French psychologists call an idée fixe.
Now, if someone became obsessed with, say, an injustice
done to an ancestor in the Napoleonic Wars, he might form an idée fixe
and under its influence, he might be capable of any fantastic outrage.
My dear Watson, that won't do.
How do you explain it then?
I don't attempt to do so.
You see?
I simply observe that there is a method in this gentleman's eccentric madness.
For example, in Dr Barnicott's house, where a sound might awaken the family,
the bust was broken outside, whereas in his surgery,
where there is less danger of alarm, it was smashed where it stood.
I only mention it because you usually have a taste for all that is uncommon,
- no matter how trivial. - I dare call nothing trivial.
My most classic cases have had unpromising beginnings.
Yes. That dreadful business of the Abernetty family.
(Growling) Ah!
I hardly call the dismemberment of an entire family trivial.
Watson, would you be so kind as to explain?
What?
The point is it only came to Holmes's notice
due to the depth to which the parsley had sunk into the butter on a hot day.
- Ah. - Ah!
So, you see, I cannot afford to smile at your three busts, Lestrade.
However,
I would be obliged if you could keep me informed as to developments.
Listen to this, Holmes.
"Come instantly. 131 Pitt Street, Kensington. Lestrade."
- What's it about? - It could be anything
but it may be a sequel to his story. You know, my idée fixe?
Finish your coffee. There's a cab at the door.
Two minutes.
Watson, it's attempted murder at least.
Nothing less would hold the London message boy.
There's a deed of violence in his outstretched neck.
Lestrade will soon tell us.
Look at this. The bottom step's swilled down, the others dry.
- Footsteps enough, anyhow. - Yes, but whose?
It's the Napoleon bust business again.
They've smashed another?
I'm afraid the affair has taken a graver turn.
This way.
Mr Harker, allow me to present Mr Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
Mr Horace Harker of the Central Press Syndicate.
Good of you to come, gentlemen. Erm...
Please forgive my agitation.
No apology necessary, Mr Harker.
A body on one's doorstep is always unsettling.
- You've told him then? - Not a word!
Now, tell us exactly what occurred.
Extraordinary thing.
All my life, I've been collecting other people's news
and now I have a real-life story of my own and I can't put two words together.
If I had been a journalist walking in, I would have interviewed myself
and had two columns in every London newspaper.
And here I am, giving away valuable copy by telling my story again and again
to a string of different people.
However, I've heard of your name, Mr Sherlock Holmes
so if you could explain this queer business,
I'd be more than paid for my trouble in telling you my story.
A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night in my den -
in that room adjacent to this one.
At some time, in the small hours of this morning...
(Window sliding)
(Screaming)
(Footsteps approaching)
I shall live that moment over and over again in my dreams.
- Do we know who the dead man was? - Not yet
but you can see the body at the mortuary.
Where did you purchase your bust, Mr Harker?
From Mr Hudson of Kennington Road.
Do we know what became of it?
It's been found in the front garden of an empty house in Campden House Road.
I was just going round to see it. Will you come?
In a moment, Lestrade.
The intruder had either very long legs or was the most active man.
With that area beneath, it was no mean feat to climb up to this ledge
let alone...
to open the window.
Mr Harker?
Will you come with us to see the remains of your bust?
I must make something of it,
although I don't doubt every newspaper in London will provide a full account.
Just my luck.
Do you remember when the stand fell down at the Doncaster races?
I was the only journalist in that stand
and my journal was the only one not to have an account
because I was too shaken to write a word.
And now, I shall be too late with a murder on my own doorstep.
Well?
We have a long way to go but there is one suggestive fact.
He didn't smash this in the house or immediately outside it.
Perhaps he was so rattled by meeting this other fellow
- that he hardly knew what he was doing. - Likely enough
but why did he choose to destroy it outside this particular house?
It's empty. So he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.
But there's another empty house up the street he must have passed.
Why not destroy it there?
The lamp.
By Jove, you're right.
What are we to make of that?
Holmes?
Remember it. Docket it. We may come on something later which will bear upon it.
Meanwhile, before we separate, let us make one last concerted visit.
- Where to? - The morgue.
They've made nothing of his identity up to now.
He was poorly dressed but was not a labourer.
The killer did a nasty job on his throat.
That was the murder weapon. It had a serrated blade.
It may have belonged either to the murderer or the dead man.
- Anything in his pockets? - Precious little.
If it might interest you, Mr Holmes...
Forgive me, Lestrade. I was just contemplating...
the one mystery that not even I can solve.
Death itself. Pray continue.
As you can see, he carried very little -
an apple, some string, a shilling map of London
and a photograph.
Or a part of one. It's torn.
Look.
Ugly-Iooking devil.
Positively simian.
What steps do you propose next?
The most practical way to get at it is to identify the dead man.
Once we know who he is, we can start to investigate who killed him
on the doorstep of Mr Horace Harker.
Don't you think so, Mr Holmes?
No doubt. It is not the way that I would conduct the case.
- Oh? What would you do? - Don't let me influence you.
I suggest you follow your line of enquiry and I, mine.
Then we can compare notes and each supplement the other
but if you are returning to Pitt Street
I would be grateful if you would tell Mr Harker
that I have quite made up my mind...
in this matter.
I am certain that it was a dangerous and homicidal lunatic
with Napoleonic delusions at his house last night.
It will help him with his article.
You don't seriously believe that, Holmes.
Don't I? Well, perhaps not.
I'm sure it will...
please Mr Horace Harker and the subscribers to the Central Press Agency.
I would be grateful, Lestrade,
if you could make it convenient to come to Baker Street at six o'clock.
Until then, I would like to keep this photograph
- found in his pocket. - But it might be a vital clue.
I trust it is. Otherwise, it's of no interest to me.
Good luck, Lestrade.
What we pay our taxes for I don't know,
when any ruffian can walk in and break one's goods under one's nose. Huh!
A superb bit of craftsmanship, it was, too -
taken from a marble copy of the emperor's head by Devins.
Are you familiar by any chance with that great artist's oeuvre?
Indeed. Speaking of familiarity, do you recognise the man in this photograph?
Ah, yes, indeed I do, Mr Holmes.
- The name's Beppo. - Beppo?
Yes, he was a sort of Italian piece-work man
who made himself useful in the shop.
Oh, he could carve a bit and frame and gild.
I took him on about ten days ago
but he only stayed a week and then just disappeared.
Didn't even collect his wages.
Perhaps he was responsible for the breakages.
Responsible for the breakages? Huh! Responsible for the breakages?!
My dear sir, this is an international conspiracy.
A nihilist plot!
Red republicans, I call 'em.
Yes, no-one but an anarchist would go about breaking statues.
Did they break every one that you sold?
Break every one I sold? Hardly!
Just the two bought by a local doctor and the one left here.
If anything happened to the other three, I know nothing of it.
- Three? So there were six to begin with? - Six? Yes, yes, a batch of six!
I ordered them especially from Gelder & Co of Stepney.
They, er... They do excellent moulding work.
Do you know the names and addresses of the other customers?
My ledgers, Mr Holmes, are confidential.
Mr Hudson...
if your theory is correct, oughtn't we to warn these people of this...
this most dangerous plot?
And who better to do that than Mr Sherlock Holmes?
Mr Sherlock Holmes? Yes, quite right. Quite right, sir.
H-hm. Yes, the country slumbers but we shall remain vigilant. Hmm?
Follow me, sir.
Here we are. Mr Josiah Brown of Chiswick.
And Mrs Sandeford of Reading.
- Mrs? - Yes.
Mr Hudson?
Did your two busts differ from the other four?
Differ from the other four? No, no, they were all identical.
And all with the beautiful decoration which I ordered especially.
Apart from the decoration, were your six busts the same as all the others?
The same as all the others? I suppose so!
But you'd have to apply direct to Gelder & Co to find that out. In person.
Excellent idea.
Er, gentlemen... Gentlemen!
When you meet the manager,
would you be good enough to warn him of the conspiracy?
With all the busts they have on the premises,
the red republicans could have a field day.
(German accent) Normally, we sell the busts without decoration
but Mr Hudson ordered that the whole uniform be painted.
It was expertly done and made it a very special issue.
In terms of the construction, however
there is no reason why the six Napoleons we sold to him
should be different from hundreds of others.
You see, the two moulds are brought together
and filled with plaster to make the complete bust.
Are they solid?
Solid? Yes, of course. Aber natürlich.
Then they are placed in a special room to dry
and afterwards stored.
The wholesale price is six shillings but the retailer would get 12 or more.
I can think of no reason someone would wish to destroy them.
Or murder for them.
Murder?
So...
Your interest in the moulding process had ulterior motives.
Herr Mendelstam, I wonder if you happen to recognise this man.
Hah! The rascal.
Yes, indeed, I know him very well.
This... this has always been a respectable establishment
and the only time we ever had the police in here was over this fellow!
About a year ago, he knifed another Italian in the street
and ran in here with the police on his heels!
Was his name Beppo by any chance?
Beppo, yes!
His second name, I never knew.
Served me right for employing a man with such a face!
But he was a good workman - one of the best.
Do you happen to remember exactly when he was arrested?
Er, I could check the pay lists.
According to Morse Hudson's records
you sent him six Napoleons on June 3rd of last year.
Ja, richtig. That is correct.
And Beppo...
last collected his wages on May 20th of that same year.
He must have been arrested the following week.
No doubt the police have the exact details.
The young Italian survived so Beppo went only to prison for one year.
A cousin of his is working here. Perhaps you would wish to speak with him?
No. Not a word to the cousin, I beg of you.
The matter is important. The further I go with it, the more important it seems.
Ach so, ja. I thought his cousin might know when Beppo is to be released.
Herr Mendelstam...
if my surmises are correct,
our friend Beppo has been out of jail for at least 11 days.
Ach, du lieber Gott!
(Seller outside) Standard! Read all about it!
Whey-hey!
- Harker has baited the trap for us. - What do you mean?
The press is a very valuable institution if one knows how to use it.
Read all about it! Standard!
- Very cunning, Holmes. - Thank you, Watson!
(Holmes and Watson coughing theatrically)
Lestrade!
Mr Holmes.
- Doctor. - Please, sit down.
Oh, thank you.
Well, erm...
- What luck, Mr Holmes? - We've had a very busy day.
Not entirely wasted. I can trace each of the busts now from the beginning.
The busts? Of course, you have your own methods, Mr Sherlock Holmes -
not for me to say a word against them - but I think I've done a better day's work.
I've identified the dead man.
Splendid! Who is it?
Pietro Venucci, son of a respectable Italian tradesman
but involved with a secret political society.
- Red anarchists? - You've been talking to Morse Hudson.
Do go on, Lestrade.
I refer of course to the Mafia,
which, as you may know, enforces its decrees by assassination.
Our murderer broke the rules in some fashion
and Pietro is put on his track, possibly with the photograph to aid identification.
They meet but Pietro receives his own death wound in the scuffle.
Excellent, Lestrade,
but I don't quite follow your explanation of the destruction of the busts.
Oh, the busts! You can never get them out of your head.
The busts are nothing. Petty larceny. Six months at most.
No, no, it's murder we're really investigating and I tell you,
I'm gathering all the threads into my hands.
- And the next stage? - Well, now.
We have an inspector who's made a speciality of the Italian quarter.
I shall go there with him, find the man in that photograph,
arrest him for murder.
What do you say, Mr Holmes?
Will you come with us?
I think not. I fancy Chiswick
- as the address most likely to find him. - Chiswick?
If you and some men will come with us to Chiswick tonight,
I will go to the Italian quarter with you tomorrow. There is no harm in the delay.
I suggest you dine with us.
Then you're welcome to the sofa.
A few hours' sleep will do us all good.
I shall not leave the house before 11
and it is unlikely we return before morning.
But, Mr Holmes...
In the meantime,
I have a letter to send by express messenger. Mrs Hudson!
Mrs Hudson!
Chiswick?
No!
Queste non sono cose da donne.
Ha dishonorato la famiglia.
(Speaks in Italian)
Sono capo della famiglia.
Eil mio dovere.
Papa!
Milan. Milan...
Naples.
Ah!
(CIock chiming)
(Snoring)
11 o'clock, gentlemen! On your feet.
Come along, Lestrade. Watson, you've been overgenerous with the port.
- And frugal with information. - (Doorbell ringing)
That will be our cab. Bring the revolver, Watson, and the rugs.
This outing wouldn't be inspired by your "eye-dee" fixe?
- Idée fixe. - Yes. Those plaster busts.
I have great hopes, Lestrade.
The betting is two to one that if you join us tonight,
you will have the murderer in custody before sunrise.
- I'm not a betting man, Mr Holmes. - Then you have nothing to lose, do you?
Except a good night's sleep.
(Cats screeching)
Watson, if you've caught a cold, it's your fault. You left the rugs behind.
Sorry, Holmes.
(CIock chiming the hour)
Is that two o'clock?
- I don't suppose we can smoke, can we? - (Holmes) No.
Thought as much.
- Are your men in position? - Oh, yes.
Have a humbug, Lestrade.
Watson...
this is no time for humbugs.
Look!
- Is that who you were expecting? - His name's Beppo.
Good name for a monkey.
He'll leave by the back door.
- How do you know that? - Because all the other doors are locked.
Aagghhh!
(Whistle)
Oh, dear. It's smashed.
- Mr Josiah Brown, I presume. - Yes, sir.
And you, no doubt, are Mr Sherlock Holmes.
I had the note you sent by the express messenger
and I did exactly as you told me.
Following your instructions, we locked every door
so as to lead him into the back and I'm glad to see you have the rascal.
I hope, gentlemen, you will come in and partake of some refreshment.
Thank you, Mr Brown, but the hour is rather late.
- Good night. - Oh, good night.
- Come, Watson, we have work to do. - Work? What work?
Lestrade...
if you will come round to Baker Street tonight, at six o'clock,
I will show you that you still have not grasped the full meaning of this affair.
I think you'll find my theory of the Mafia will work out, Mr Holmes.
Good night, Lestrade.
Come on now.
(Shouting in Italian)
Baker Street, please.
Now, Watson, I commend to you the universal answer to almost all problems.
What's that, Holmes?
Sleep.
Bongiorno.
In casi come quespi
e importante.
Ecco, Signor Holmes.
Grazie, Signor.
Morning, Watson.
"Since the manager of Gelder & Co was mainly responsible for Beppo's arrest
"we see the breaking of the busts as a pathetic attempt to revenge himself.
"It was possibly these senseless acts of violence
"which transgressed the Mafia's code of behaviour
"and led to the murder of young Venucci."
There.
I think that takes care of those "details" you mentioned last night.
Don't you, Mr Holmes?
Holmes?
- (Doorbell ringing) - Ha!
Yes, Watson?
Well, what do you think of Lestrade's theories?
I'm sure they are of interest but I did not listen.
Forgive my inattention. I had a late night.
What do you think I had?!
(Knock)
Come in!
Er, is Mr Sherlock Holmes here?
Ah.
I fear I am a little late but the trains were very awkward.
No matter, no matter.
- Have you brought the item? - Er...
This is Dr Watson and Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
- You may speak freely in front of them. - Gentlemen...
You said in your telegram that Mr Hudson had given you my address.
- Mr Sandeford of Reading! - The same, sir. How do you do?
- It's those busts again. - Correct, Lestrade.
Did he also tell you just how much my wife paid for it?
No, he did not.
Well, sir, I am an honest man, but not a rich one
and she only gave 15 shillings.
I think you ought to know that before I take the 10 pounds that you offered.
Your scruple does you much honour but I have stated my price
- and I shall stick to it. - That's very handsome of you.
Your bust, sir.
My wife always maintains there is a marked resemblance
between myself and the emperor.
I can't say I see it myself.
The sixth Napoleon.
I contacted Mr Sandeford by telegram this morning.
Now...
if you will sign this paper in front of witnesses...
It is to say that you transfer your every possible rights in the bust to me.
Happy to, Mr Holmes. Happy, happy, happy.
I am a methodical man and one never knows what turn events may take.
Here is your £10 note and good evening, Mr Sandeford.
Oh, thank you very much, Mr Holmes. Good evening, gentlemen.
That's very, very kind.
Thank you so much and I'm very pleased...
Now, gentlemen, if you would give me your undivided attention.
Let me introduce you to one of the most precious objects in the world.
The famous black pearl of the Borgias.
Oh!
Bravo, Holmes!
Bravo!
Oh, your legerdemain rivals that of Maskelyne himself.
Oh, this surpasses it.
The Borgia pearl's been missing
since it disappeared from the Prince of Colonna's bedroom in the Dacre Hotel
over a year ago.
As you may well remember, I was consulted upon the case at the time.
Observe.
And learn.
The moment the name Venucci surfaced in this case I became intrigued.
The Princess of Colonna's maid, for some time, was one Lucrezia Venucci.
Suspicion fell on her.
It was proved she had a brother in London,
but we failed to trace any connection. Beppo was the connection.
He had been courting
Lucrezia Venucci
for some time.
- Where did you get the? - Papa Venucci.
Oh, I see.
When the Venucci family planned to steal the black pearl,
they used Beppo as a go-between for Lucrezia and her brother.
Beppo gleaned enough information to do the robbery himself and take the pearl.
Pietro Venucci, the brother, caught up with him outside Gelder's workshop.
Beppo stabbed him. He then fled into the warehouse
and took refuge in the drying room.
'He only had moments in which to conceal the pearl
'which would be found on him when he was searched.
'Among all the plaster casts drying that day
'he made for a batch of six that had been earmarked for Morse Hudson.
'And the base of one of them was still soft.
'It was an admirable hiding place.'
As soon as Beppo got out of prison,
he managed to find employment with Mr Morse Hudson
and set about tracking the six Napoleons down.
He found and destroyed three of them
but the night he located Harker's,
Pietro Venucci, intent on vengeance,
accosted him and this time Beppo slit his throat.
With only two busts left, it was likely he would try the London one first.
- Hence our visit to Chiswick. - Exactly, Watson.
That left only the Reading bust.
I bought it in your presence from the owner
and there it lies.
Well, Mr Holmes...
I've seen you handle a good many cases in my time
but I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than this.
We're not jealous of you, you know, at Scotland Yard.
No, sir, we're proud of you.
And if you come down tomorrow,
there's not a man from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable
who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand.
Thank you.
Would you get down the Conk Singleton forgery case, please, Watson?
Goodbye, Lestrade. Any little problem comes your way
I shall be happy if I can to give you a hint or two as to its solution.
E finita, Lucrezia.