- Mr West. - London Bridge.
- Single or return? - Oh, it doesn't matter. Single.
(Departure whistle)
Quickly. Quickly!
(Train whistle)
He's dead.
- Must have fallen from the train. - Here, look at his head.
You nip back to the station, tell 'em what happened. I'll stay 'ere.
(Holmes singing in Latin)
(Sighing)
It's a real peasouper.
Nothing in the paper, Watson?
There's another revolution in South America, a possible war in Africa.
- Nothing of interest to you. - Oh.
The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow.
The thief or the murderer could roam London on a day like this,
as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces,
and then evident only to his victim.
There are numerous petty thefts.
(Snorts)
This great and sombre stage is set for something more worthy than that.
It is fortunate for the community I am not a criminal.
It is, indeed.
It's as well they don't have fogs in Latin countries, countries of assassination.
- For you, Mr Holmes. - Thank you.
- Mr Holmes, your bed... - I apologise for the state of my room.
Well, what next?
My brother Mycroft is coming round.
- Why not? - Why not?
It is as if you met a tram car coming down a country lane.
Mycroft has his lines and he runs on them.
Pall Mall lodgings, the Diogenes Club, Whitehall. That's his cycle.
Only once has he ever been here. What upheaval can have derailed him?
"Must see you over Cadogan West. Coming at once."
- Cadogan West? I've heard the name. - It recalls nothing to my mind.
Mycroft breaking out in this erratic fashion. It's extraordinary.
Watson, you do know what Mycroft is?
At the time of that affair of the Greek interpreter,
you told me he had some small office under the British government.
I didn't know you so well in those days. His position is unique.
He has made it for himself. There has never been anything like it.
He has the tidiest and most orderly brain,
with the greatest capacity for storing facts, of any man living.
The conclusions of every department are passed to him.
He is the central exchange which makes out the balance.
All other men are specialists.
His specialism... is omniscience.
Time and time again, Mycroft's word has decided national policy.
Then Jupiter himself is descending upon us today.
Yes, indeed.
- No trace of Cadogan West. - West...
I have it!
Yes, Cadogan West... Cadogan West was the young man
who was found dead on the Underground on Tuesday morning.
Oh, yes, yes, yes. A featureless case, as I remember.
A young man killed falling from a moving train. No violence.
- Watson, brother Mycroft. - Ah!
(Horse's hooves)
That looks like our old friend Inspector Bradstreet.
Why should he bring a policeman with him?
- (Doorbell) - Ah, here we are. Cadogan West.
Clerk at the Woolwich Arsenal, 27, unmarried.
Government employee. Behold the link with my brother Mycroft.
- Sherlock? - Mycroft!
Ah! Doctor... erm...
- Watson. - Watson. You know Bradstreet.
Cadogan West. A most annoying business, Sherlock.
I extremely dislike altering my habits,
but the powers that be would brook no denial.
In the present state of Siam,
it's most awkward I should be away from the office.
But it is a real crisis, Sherlock.
I have never seen the Prime Minister so upset.
And as to the Admiralty, well, buzzing like an overturned beehive!
Do sit down, Bradstreet.
There's nothing unusual reported in the newspapers.
I should hope not.
The wretched youth had the plans
of the Bruce-Partington submarine in his pocket.
- You must have heard of it? - Only by name.
Its importance can hardly be exaggerated.
It has been the most closely guarded of all government secrets.
You may take it from me that naval warfare becomes impossible
within the radius of a Bruce-Partington operation.
What sort of plans are we talking about?
Extremely intricate ones, Sherlock.
30 different patents, each one essential to the working of the whole.
Where are the plans normally kept?
In an elaborate safe in a confidential office adjoining the arsenal at Woolwich,
with burglarproof doors and windows.
If the chief constructor of the Navy desired to consult the plans,
he would have to go to Woolwich to do so.
To think they'd be in the pocket of a dead junior clerk in the heart of London.
- Awful! - Then you recovered the papers?
No, Sherlock, no. That's the pinch. We have not.
Some ten papers were taken from Woolwich.
Only seven were found in the pocket of Cadogan West.
The other three are missing. Gone, vanished, stolen!
You must drop everything, Sherlock.
Never mind your usual petty puzzles of the police courts.
This is a real international crisis that you have to solve.
There are some points of interest in the case, I suppose.
- I will be pleased to look into it. - Aah!
Bradstreet, now, who held the keys to that safe?
There are two sets of keys.
Sir James Walter holds one set. He is the official guardian of the papers.
(Mycroft) A man grown grey in the service of the state.
A favoured guest in the most exalted houses.
- His patriotism is above suspicion. - The other keys?
Mr Sidney Johnson, senior clerk and draughtsman.
A silent, morose man, not popular, but a hard worker.
His wife corroborates his account.
He was at home all Monday night. The keys never left his watch chain.
What sort of fellow was this man West?
Hot-headed, rather impetuous.
His duties brought him into daily contact with the plans.
- Who locked them up? - The senior clerk.
They were found on the junior clerk. That seems final, does it not?
But why would he take them?
Can you think why he should take them to London, except to sell them?
No.
We must take that as our working hypothesis.
West could only have done this with false keys.
He opens the safe, takes some papers, goes to London to see a foreign agent.
He has to have them back before morning or the loss will be discovered.
He took away ten. Seven were in his pocket.
What became of the other three? He wouldn't leave them of his own free will.
It all seems perfectly clear to me.
As you say, Mr Holmes, West stole the plans in order to sell them.
He met the agent, but they could not agree as to a price.
West returned home but the agent followed.
In the train the agent murdered him,
took the more essential papers and threw the body from the railway carriage.
- That would explain it, would it not? - Good. That's very good, Bradstreet.
Your theory holds together. But if that is so, the case is at an end.
The traitor is dead,
the plans of the submarine are on the Continent. What is there for me to do?
To act, Sherlock. To act!
All my instincts are against this explanation and yours too, I think.
We are not brothers for nothing.
Use your powers. Go to the scene, question the people concerned.
Leave no stone unturned.
In all your career, you'll never have a greater chance of serving your country.
If you, on your part, would send me a complete list
of foreign spies and agents known to be in England and their full address.
I think we can begin our investigations by a visit to Aldgate station. Bradsteet.
Watson!
Mrs Hudson, we're leaving!
(Train whistle)
- When was the body found? - Six o'clock, sir. Tuesday morning.
He must have fallen on Monday night.
Have the carriages been examined?
No trace of violence has been found.
- No report of a door found open? - No.
We can tell the time he entered the train from his ticket.
There was no ticket on the body.
No ticket. That is really very singular.
It is not possible to reach the platform of the Metropolitan Line
without exhibiting one's ticket.
- Is that not so? - Quite correct, sir.
The murderer would have removed the ticket
before throwing West from the train
so as not to reveal the name of the station nearest his residence.
The doctor has it.
What else did he have in his possession, besides the papers and no ticket?
The usual things. Pocket book, notecase, chequebook.
And two tickets for the dress circle of the Woolwich Theatre for that evening.
It appears West was to have attended the performance
in the company of his fiancée, Miss Violet Westbury.
She was the last person to see him alive on the fatal night.
They were walking to the theatre in the fog, when he suddenly left her.
- Suddenly? Without explanation? - None.
There appears to be no bleeding on the line.
There was hardly any trace of blood.
Yet there was a wound consistent with a man falling from a moving train?
It was terrible, sir. The head was knocked right in and the bone crushed,
yet there was no great external injury.
One would expect some blood.
The line runs... northeast?
Yes. The track divides here, sir.
A branch line goes south under the river to Rotherhithe and New Cross.
The points...
The points.
There are no great number of points in a system such as this?
There are very few, sir.
Points...
and a curve.
Oh, by Jove, if it were only so.
What is it?
- Holmes, do you have a clue? - An idea, Bradstreet.
An indication, no more.
But the case certainly grows in interest.
It's unique, perfectly unique.
And yet, why not?
(Holmes) Ah!
(Holmes laughing)
Cab!
There is material here, Watson. There is scope.
I was dull not to see its possibilities.
- I confess, it is dark to me. - And to me, also.
But I now have hold of an idea which may lead us far.
Now, I think Sir James, the guardian of the plans, claims our first attention.
Plumstead Hall!
Well, Holmes?
- Your idea? - Ah, yes.
The man West was killed, not by falling or being thrown from a moving train.
He met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof of the carriage.
- On the roof! - Well, consider the facts.
Is it a coincidence the body was found in the place
where the train brakes and sways as it comes round on the points?
Sudden slowing would affect no object inside,
but an object, such as a body, on the roof?
And the blood.
There was no bleeding on the line if the body bled elsewhere.
Each fact is suggestive. Together they have a cumulative force.
And the ticket too.
That would explain the absence of the ticket. Watson, it all fits together.
Please wait.
(Doorbell tinkles)
Come in, please, gentlemen. We were expecting you.
This way, please.
Ah, gentlemen.
- Thank you, Baines. - Thank you, sir.
If you'll follow me, the... body is upstairs.
Wait, one moment.
Are you not the undertakers?
Excuse me, Sir James. I am Dr Watson and this is Mr Sherlock Holmes.
Good heavens!
We are helping the authorities in the case of the missing papers.
My brother, Sir James Walter, died this morning.
I am Colonel Valentine Walter.
Please, gentlemen, come in here.
- We are... very sorry, sir. - Thank you.
I'm afraid it has been a great shock.
Erm... May I ask...
- how did your brother die? - It was this horrible scandal.
My brother is... My brother was a man of very sensitive honour.
He was fiercely proud of the efficiency of his department.
The theft of the plans was a crushing blow.
It broke his heart.
We were hoping Sir James might have been able to help.
I assure you, it was as much a mystery to him as it is to all of us.
Naturally, he had no doubt that West was guilty.
But why he should have done such a thing...
Now, of course, we shall never know.
So, you can throw no light on the matter?
Me? I'm afraid I know nothing, save what I've read or heard.
- And you never met Cadogan West? - No.
No, I have not been back in the country long.
My brother's work was of a confidential nature. He did not discuss it with me.
(Bell tinkling)
I do not wish to seem discourteous, but we are much disturbed at present.
I must ask you to hasten this interview to an end.
Of course. We are so sorry to have caused you so much trouble.
That's an unexpected development.
Heart failure?
Or suicide?
- Now for Miss Westbury. - Is that the dead man's fiancée?
Yes.
I... cannot explain it, Mr Holmes.
I haven't closed my eyes since the tragedy,
thinking and thinking and thinking what the true meaning of it can be.
Do sit down.
Arthur... was the most single-minded, chivalrous,
patriotic man on earth.
He would have cut off his right hand rather than sell a state secret.
It's absurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him.
- But the facts, Miss Westbury. - Was he in want of money?
No, his needs were very simple,
and his salary was sufficient.
He had saved a few hundreds and we were to marry at the New Year.
Was there any sign of...
mental excitement?
Come, Miss Westbury, be absolutely frank with us.
I had a feeling there was something on his mind.
- For long? - Only the last week or two.
Once I asked him about it.
"It is too serious to speak about, even to you," he said.
Go on, Miss Westbury. I mean, even if it seems to tell against him.
We cannot say where it may lead.
He spoke one evening about a... a secret.
I think he said that no doubt foreign spies would pay a great deal to have it.
He said we were slack about such matters
and that it would be easy for a traitor to get hold of the plans.
(Sobbing) Oh, Mr Holmes,
if you could only... only save his honour.
It was so much to him.
I'll do what I can.
Now, please, tell us about that last evening.
It was Monday night.
And we were to go to the theatre.
- Violet, I'm afraid I've got to leave you. - Leave me?
It's very, very important.
I'm sorry. You'd better go home.
Go home immediately, please.
It was just here, Mr Holmes.
- He disappeared without explanation? - Yes.
You are sure this is the exact spot?
Yes.
We often used to meet here when we were courting.
That's the building where he used to work.
(Holmes) Ah.
That was the last time I saw him.
Watson, would you be so kind as to take Miss Westbury home in the cab?
- It's bad, it's very bad! - (Holmes) Of course, Mr Johnson.
The whole place is disorganised!
West dead, now the chief dead, our papers stolen.
And yet, when I closed this office on Monday evening,
we were as efficient as any in the service.
- At what hour was the office closed? - At five.
- Did you close it? - I am always the last out.
Is there no night watchman?
There is, but he has other departments to look after, as well.
He is an old soldier and a most trustworthy man.
He didn't see anything that evening.
When you closed, where were the plans?
In that safe. I put them there myself.
If Cadogan West wished to enter the office after hours,
he would need three keys before he could reach these papers?
Yes. The key to the outer door, the key to the office and the key of the safe.
And only you and Sir James Walter had those keys?
Yes, indeed.
Sir James kept all three keys on one ring. They never left him.
- Your keys never left your possession? - Never.
If Cadogan West is the culprit, he must have had duplicates?
Oh, he's the culprit, all right.
It is dreadful to think that West should have done such a thing.
You are sure of his guilt?
I see no other way.
He was getting married. He wanted the money.
Oh, yes, he's your man.
Mr Johnson, if someone desired to sell the plans,
surely it would be easier to make copies
than to take the originals?
- It would need considerable knowledge. - May I see, please?
Of course, you and West and Sir James Walter had that knowledge?
That may be so, but don't try to drag me into this matter, Mr Holmes.
The plans were found on West.
It is singular that he should risk taking the originals,
when he could have taken copies.
- Perhaps it was a matter of time. - Ah, yes, time.
Three plans are missing, I understand. They are the vital ones.
That is so.
Someone holding those three papers, could they construct a submarine?
I told the Admiralty that I thought it was possible, but today I am not so sure.
These all-important double valves with the automatic self-adjusting slots
are drawn only on this plan, which has been returned.
Would you close those window shutters, exactly as they were on Monday night?
Window shutters? Certainly.
Thank you so much.
Yes.
I'll take a little stroll.
Please, don't trouble yourself. I can find my own way.
Would you please wait?
- Holmes? - Watson.
Look at this. The bushes have been broken.
Now look at the windows behind me.
The shutters don't meet in the centre.
As you say, don't meet.
Interesting, don't you think?
8:15 to London Bridge. That was it, I'm sure of it.
You definitely recognised him?
Oh, yes. Definitely. I knew him well, sir.
He was an old acquaintance.
Hardly a week went by but we didn't pass the time of day.
It's hard to believe, isn't it?
I was saying to the wife only on Sunday night...
No, I'm a liar, it was Saturday.
I said, there's no safer railway than the London Metropolitan.
Did Mr West seem to be following anyone?
Not that I saw, Mr Holmes, but then I don't see everything.
There was really thick fog that night.
But one thing I will say. Mr West wasn't his usual self.
He was nervous, excited.
I tell you, his hand was shaking so bad, I even had to help him pick up his change.
Well, I mean, that speaks for itself, doesn't it?
- (Steam hissing) - Our train. Forgive us.
Come, Watson.
- (Knocking) - Come in.
Mr Holmes?
- Mr Holmes? - Yes?
Whilst you were away, a message came for you from the Government.
- From the Government? - A gentleman in a special carriage.
He said I wasn't to let this out of my sight until I had placed it in your hands.
Mrs Hudson, you are... a most faithful watchdog.
It's from my brother Mycroft.
He writes like a drunken crab! You'd better read it.
Doctors are more used to hieroglyphics than normal human beings.
Oh, I can't read the first bit. Something about "small fry" and "very big affair".
Ah, here we are. "Only men worth considering - Adolph Meyer..."
13 Great George Street.
I doubt it's him. Not his style.
Oh. Mrs Hudson!
"Louis... Louis? Louis. Louis La Rothiere.
"Campden Mansions, Notting Hill."
Another old friend. Mrs Hudson, you're hideously in the way!
I'm sorry, sir, but I only have one pair of hands.
Now, please, disappear.
Right, Watson.
Ah. "Hugo Oberstein, 13 Caulfield Gardens, Kensington."
Erm..."Known to be in town on Monday. Now reported to have left.
"The Cabinet awaits your final report with the utmost anxiety.
"The whole force of the State is at your back, if you should need it. Mycroft."
All the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men
cannot avail us in this matter.
Caulfield Gardens.
Well, well!
What have you found?
Things are turning a little in our direction.
Now I really believe that we are going to bring it off, after all.
Ha!
- I'm going out. - When will you be back?
I've no idea, but I will do nothing serious
without my trusted comrade and biographer at my elbow.
He wants me to meet him in a restaurant off the Gloucester Road.
I just hope you'll be careful, that's all. You're not as young as you were.
And you know what Mr Holmes is like once he gets the bit between his teeth.
I do, indeed.
Good night, Mrs Hudson.
Good night, Doctor.
(Driver) Whoa.
Thank you.
Thank you, sir. (Clicks tongue)
Signor?
Have you the tools?
- Have you had something to eat? - Indeed.
Have coffee and a Curaçao. Signor Goldini!
A coffee and a Curaçao for my friend.
Try one of the proprietor's cigars.
They are nothing like as poisonous as one would expect.
Now...
Now for our plan of action.
It is evident to you that the body was placed on the roof of the carriage.
- Or dropped from a bridge. - No, that's impossible. Placed.
- The roofs are rounded with no rails. - How could it be placed there?
In some areas,
the London Underground runs clear of tunnels and past the backs of houses.
When I found that a leading international agent lived in just such a house,
I was so pleased that you were astonished at my frivolity.
Hugo Oberstein, 13 Caulfield Gardens. Of course!
Exactly.
I was able to satisfy myself
that not only do the backstair windows open onto the line,
but owing to the intersection of the Richmond and Wimbledon lines
with the Circle Line near Gloucester Road Station,
the trains are frequently held motionless at that very spot.
That's splendid! You've got it!
The house appears to be unoccupied,
Oberstein having gone abroad to dispose of his booty.
He has no reason to fear a warrant.
Amateur burglary would never occur to him.
But that is precisely what we are about to do.
Why? For what purpose?
We cannot tell what correspondence may be there.
No, no, I... No, I don't like it, Holmes.
You can keep watch. I'll do the criminal part.
This is no time to stick at trifles. Think of the Admiralty, the Cabinet.
Think of the exalted person herself who waits for news.
We are bound to go.
I knew you wouldn't shrink at the last!
A serious proposition. Locked and bolted.
We may do better in the area.
Ah, this is better!
Jemmy.
Holmes!
Don't touch, Watson.
(Steam hissing)
Look where they rested the body.
(Train wheels squeaking)
Blood.
Blood, again.
(Train whistle)
- What do you think of that? - A masterpiece.
- You've never risen to a greater height. - I cannot agree.
From the moment I conceived the body on the roof, the rest was inevitable.
Our major difficulties are before us.
Oh. Fresh blotting paper. Cunning fellow.
He's covered his tracks.
(Whispers) Holmes.
Means nothing.
Fellow seems to have been burning old newspapers.
- I say, Holmes? - Yes.
Why would a man, so obviously untidy in his habits,
take the trouble to burn old newspapers?
- Probably trying to start a fire. - No, there's no wood or coal.
(Pages rustling)
Let me see.
Thank you.
- Ha! - What is it?
Well done. Well done, indeed. I think we have our man.
Look in the agony column of the remaining copies.
I think you will find a message from someone calling himself Pierrot.
Here we are.
"Hoped to hear sooner. Must have full report. Matter presses. Pierrot."
And the last?
Yes, by Jove! "Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves.
"Payment in cash when goods delivered. Pierrot." Like the other.
Every paper has a message from someone calling himself Pierrot.
It's an odd name for a villain like Oberstein to use.
If only we could get the man at the other end.
Watson, quickly! We haven't a moment to lose. Bring the papers!
- Where are we going? - The offices of the Daily Telegraph.
We've just time.
Splendid, Sherlock. Splendid.
I always said you'd make the best cat burglar in London,
if you put your mind to it.
We can't do these things.
No wonder you sometimes get results that are beyond us.
But you'll go too far, and you'll find yourselves in trouble.
For England, home and beauty, eh? Martyrs on the altar of our country.
The agony column of the Telegraph? What use will you make of those?
Have you seen the advertisement from Pierrot today?
"Tonight. Same hour, same place. Two taps. Most vitally important.
"Your own safety at stake." Signed, Pierrot.
(Bradstreet) By George, if he answers that, we've got him.
Wake up. He is here.
Kommen Sie herein.
Write me down as an ass, Watson. This is not the bird I was expecting.
(Mycroft) Who is he? (Watson) Colonel Valentine Walter.
Sir James's younger brother.
I begin to see how the cards fall now.
What is this? I came here to visit Mr Oberstein.
- I know you, surely. - Sherlock Holmes.
Everything is known, Colonel.
How an English gentleman could behave in such a manner
is beyond comprehension.
We know of your relations with Oberstein,
how you stole your brother's keys and had them duplicated.
You went to Admiralty Office on Monday and were seen by West.
Leaving his private concerns, being the good citizen that he was,
he followed you halfway across London, until you reached this house.
It was then, Colonel Walter,
that to treason you added the terrible crime of murder.
I did not. I did not. Before God, I swear I did not.
Then tell us how Cadogan West met his end
before you placed his body on the roof of the carriage.
He followed me as you describe.
But until I was at the very door of this house, I did not know it.
(Bell tinkles)
What are you going to do with those papers?
(Grunting)
He hit his head on the marble floor. He was dead in a matter of minutes.
It was Oberstein's idea to stuff the plans in West's pocket
and put him on the roof of the train.
What made you turn traitor, Colonel?
A stock-exchange debt had to be paid.
I needed the money badly. Oberstein offered me five thousand.
It was to save myself from ruin and disgrace.
My brother used to discuss matters with me which he should not have done.
This submarine, for instance.
How could he ever guess his own brother would betray him?
That was the worst of all.
He suspected me, I know he did. I read it in his eyes.
And after this West business, he never held up his head again.
Can you not make reparation?
It would ease your conscience, and possibly your punishment.
- What reparation can I make? - Where is Oberstein with the papers?
I do not know.
He said that letters to the Hôtel du Louvre in Paris would reach him.
Ah! Then it is possible for you to help us.
Come and sit down, and write to my dictation.
"Dear Sir, in regard to our transaction,
"you have now observed that one essential detail is missing.
"I have a tracing to make it complete."
- Is that true, Sherlock? - Quite true.
What essential detail is missing?
The double valves with automatic self-adjusting slots.
Good heavens! How on earth did you know that?
I have become quite a submarine expert, brother of mine.
Now, Colonel,
what would be your terms?
"I must ask you for a further five hundred pounds."
English notes, please.
"I shall expect to meet you..."
No, we can hardly say here. Oberstein will suspect a trap.
The foyer of the Charing Cross Hotel.
Its proximity to the railway station renders it extremely popular
amongst the international spy fraternity.
Did you get that, Colonel?
"Noon, Saturday next."
I shall be very surprised if that does not fetch our man.
(String quartet playing)
That's our man.
(Clears throat)
Excuse me.
(Oberstein shouting)
Splendid, Bradstreet!
But our traitor has flown.
(Mycroft) Well, I'll be damned! The cheek!
Don't worry, gentlemen.
We're keeping him on a long lead.
There's an R in the month,
and the Diogenes Club has the most excellent oysters.
I should like both you gentlemen to be my guests.
Come along, Sherlock.