(Distant bark)
(Unearthly shriek)
Paper! Paper!
(Watson) Finished.
(Yawning)
- What do you make of it, Watson? - What?
Eyes in the back of your head!
I have a well-polished coffee pot in front of me.
Mrs Hudson says it was left last night. What do you make of it?
Ah...
Well, his name, at least, we know.
I think Dr Mortimer is a successful, elderly medical man.
Esteemed, since those who know him gave him this mark of appreciation.
Yes...
I think he is a country practitioner who does a good deal of visiting on foot.
"Friends of CCH." I should guess that to be the local hunt.
Oh, bravo. Bravo, Watson!
I am bound to say, you habitually underrate your abilities.
Well...
It may be that you are not yourself luminous,
but you are a conductor of light.
Some people, without possessing genius,
have a power for stimulating it.
I confess that, my dear fellow, I am very much in your debt.
Thank you.
But most of your conclusions were erroneous.
"H". Surely...
hospital.
"CC" suggests Charing Cross.
If so, I would postulate a young man, under thirty,
amiable, absent-minded, unambitious.
The possessor of a dog. The stick?
- Oh. - Thank you.
Larger than a terrier.
Smaller than a mastiff.
(Yapping)
Hm! I was right.
A curly haired spaniel!
Oh, Holmes!
Dr Mortimer.
Thank you, sir! I wasn't sure whether I'd left it here or at the shipping office.
The SS Gibraltar, you see, docks today, at... at Tilbury.
Ah.
You interest me very much, Mr Holmes.
I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull,
or such well-marked supraorbital development.
Would you object to my touching your parietal fissure?
Please, Dr Mortimer!
A cast of your skull, sir, until the original becomes available...
(Holmes laughing)
It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess, I covet your skull.
Behave and sit down, Dr Mortimer.
Spot!
I presume it was not your phrenological passion which drew you to Baker Street?
Unfortunately, it was not, sir.
Spot!
I have here...
I have here the statement of a legend which runs in the Baskerville family.
Baskerville?
I am an executor of Sir Charles' will and found it amongst his papers.
It concerns Hugo de Baskerville, Lord of the Manor at Grimpen on Dartmoor.
- Dartmoor? - Some 200 years ago.
The document is somewhat later.
"Learn then, from this story to be circumspect in the future,
"that those passions whereby our family have suffered may not be loosed again,
"to our culpable ruin.
"8th of November 1742." An intriguing preamble!
I read of Sir Charles Baskerville's death.
From a medical point of view, it was a poorly informed article.
No, thank you. He died of dyspnoea and cardiac exhaustion.
Were the conditions linked or parallel?
They were linked, in my opinion. There was some... some facial distortion.
- Caused by the cardiac pain? - Yes.
You sound doubtful.
- It was not merely facial distortion. - "In 1692,
"Hugo De Baskerville abducted a young girl.
"But she escaped across the moor, at night.
"Cursing, he unkennelled his pack of hounds,
"and hunted her down like a wild animal.
"When his three drunken companions followed,
"they found the girl in a deep dip or goyal,
"dead from fear and fatigue.
"They also confronted the cause of her death,
"a huge, demonic hound.
"Even as they looked, the hound tore the throat out of Hugo de Baskerville.
"One companion died that very night of what he saw.
"And the other twain were broken men for the rest of their days."
This hound is supposed to have haunted the family,
to the general misfortune of the line.
Well, this may appeal to your lurid taste in fiction, Watson.
- It's a fairy tale, sir. - Of course, Mr Holmes.
But fairy tales would not survive without a kernel of truth.
'On the night Sir Charles died, I arrived at Baskerville Hall at first light.
'I shall tell you what I found,
'no more... or less.'
This way, please, sir.
'I had been concerned about him for some time.
'He had become obsessed with the legend of the hound.
'He believed he had heard the hound on the moors. He believed he had seen it.
'I took such morbid fancies to be part of Sir Charles's pathological condition.'
- (Holmes) 'And now? ' - 'I no longer believe that to be the case.'
In there, sir. We didn't like to move him, sir, once we knew...
Yes. Yes, quite, Barrymore.
A sad occasion, Mrs Barrymore. An unhappy vigil for you.
He was our hope, Doctor.
The hope of the country, hereabouts.
He brought the world to us.
He was our hope.
'Before Sir Charles ran up the alley,
'he had evidently stood at the gate for at least ten minutes.'
'How do you know that? '
'The ash had dropped twice from his cigar.
'There were also three spent matches.'
(Holmes) 'You impress me, Doctor. Was there anything else? '
'Yes.'
Footprints?
A man or a woman's?
Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.
People have seen a creature on the moor. A huge creature, ghastly, spectral.
'I have cross-examined two, hard-headed countrymen both. Their stories tally.
'I want you to advise me what I should do with Sir Henry Baskerville.
'Henry Baskerville has spent his life in America.
'He has come over on the SS Gibraltar.'
- Very good. - It's been a pleasure, Sir Henry.
Sir Henry? I still haven't gotten used to that title.
(Holmes) 'Is there any other claimant on Sir Charles's estate? '
'None. His youngest brother, Roger,
'died in Central America of yellow fever, some 30 years ago.'
Northumberland Hotel, Northumberland Avenue.
'Sir Henry is the last of the Baskervilles.'
(Foghorns, men shouting)
Why did you not consult me immediately?
There is a realm in which the most accomplished detective is helpless.
There are things which are impossible to reconcile to the settled order of nature.
If you believe this to be supernatural, you will find more help from a priest.
No, no, no, no.
(Sighs)
How can I assist?
I'll have an answer, damn it!
- He's in a stir, sir, about his boot. - Aha.
(Knocking)
- If he can't find my old black boot... - Surely it was a new brown boot?
No, last night they took one of the brown ones.
Today they've sneaked one of the black!
I'm sorry to trouble you with this nonsense, but this is a first-class hotel!
Oh. Hello.
Mr Sherlock Holmes at your service. I think it is worth troubling about.
- You do? Why? - Because it's inexplicable.
Good! That's good.
(Neighing)
- (Coughs) My God! - Have you got a cold, Watson?
- No, it's this poisonous atmosphere. - It is a bit thick, I suppose.
Thick? It's intolerable.
- You have been at your club all day. - How do you know that?
- Where do you think I have been? - Here, clearly.
Clearly? Oh!
I have been in Devonshire.
- In spirit? - Quite so.
I sent out for a map. Stanford's.
- Ah! - Now, see here.
Baskerville Hall.
Grimpen, just a clutter of cottages.
Two moorland houses. Farm houses.
Lafter Hall, Merripit House. That is all.
This represents marshland.
And these barrows, some prehistoric settlement or burial ground.
A tin mine.
Disused, it says.
And all the rest... is waste,
as far as the great convict prison at Princetown.
It is a worthy setting, if the devil did decide to dabble in the affairs of man.
Then you yourself are inclining towards a supernatural explanation?
Send word to Dr Mortimer that we breakfast with him tomorrow.
It arrived by post this morning.
So, you think out little puzzles, Mr Holmes?
This one wants more thinking than I'm able to give it.
- Posted yesterday? - Yes.
A joke, as like as not.
Has anything interesting happened to you in London?
No, I don't think so.
Have you been followed, watched?
I seem to have walked right into a dime novel.
- Why should anyone follow me? - That letter was delivered to the hotel.
You are being followed, Sir Henry.
(Holmes) "If you value your life or your reason, keep away from the moor."
The issue is whether it constitutes a friendly or an unfriendly warning.
That is surely impossible to determine?
Various features may help.
The envelope, for example, if somewhat crumpled, is presentable.
Its contents mostly are not.
The letter has been torn neatly enough along a fold,
and a leader article in The Times - the print is unmistakable -
has been chosen for the message.
But the message is awkwardly cut with inappropriate short-bladed scissors,
and the gluing of the print to the paper is smudged and misaligned.
May I see?
Only half a sheet, and yet the watermark is clear. Huddleston and Quayle.
You will find that paper in a hundred middle grade hotels,
but not, I think, here.
A first-class hotel would have a paper of a greater weight.
The ink is institutional.
That also suggests a hotel.
What can we determine from this?
Pocket fluff.
I infer that the person who wrote this message is staying at a nearby hotel.
He is neat of habit and started the task methodically.
But then he began to fear discovery.
He rushed it through,
and put the result into his pocket until such time as he posted it.
It is true that fearful people threaten,
but my interpretation is that this is a friendly warning,
because it seems a risk was incurred in its execution.
Bravo, Mr Holmes. You fulfil your reputation, sir, no mistake.
But if this fellow is afraid, then he's afraid not only for his own skin,
but what might happen to me.
Quite so.
Dr Mortimer, I think it is time that you explained.
Well, now you know the facts, Sir Henry.
The question is whether or not you should go to Dartmoor.
There's no devil in hell, nor no man on this earth,
who's going to prevent me from going to the home of my own people.
Then we must see how we can mitigate the danger.
You really believe there is danger?
I think that if there is, then it is considerable.
- You certainly cannot go alone. - Dr Mortimer returns with me.
He has his practice, and he lives many miles distant.
- You will come? - I have to stay in London.
Blackmail case. I recommend my friend, Watson.
That's very kind of you, Doctor.
(Indistinct conversation)
Watson!
This way!
- Who was that man? - I have no idea.
How did you know someone followed Baskerville?
How else did they know so immediately where he was staying?
At least they will not continue to follow him now.
When a crisis comes, Watson, and it will, report to me.
Do you know what the residue of Sir Charles Baskerville's estate was?
No, I don't.
- Close on a million. - (Whistles)
A stake for which a man might play a dangerous game.
Such a sum has a definite materiality.
And yet... there are more things in heaven and earth.
We are men of science, Holmes.
And yet...
It's an ugly, dangerous business, Watson.
I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more.
Thank you, Holmes.
Holmes.
"My dear Watson, I will not bias your mind
"by suggesting theories or suspicions.
"Simply report facts to me in the fullest possible manner.
"Concentrate upon the following.
(Whistle)
"Above all, avoid the moor when, as the old parchment quaintly put it,
"the powers of evil are exalted."
(Train whistle)
(Indistinct chatter)
Dr Watson.
- What is this, Perkins? - Convict escaped from Princetown, sir.
Out three days now.
They'm watching all over but they ain't seen no sign of him.
- Farmers don't like it. - Who is he?
Selden. The Notting Hill Murderer.
Folk are locking their doors, I can tell you.
- What did the man do? - He murdered a whole family.
With such savagery they deemed him insane.
Welcome, Sir Henry. Welcome to Baskerville Hall.
Thank you. It's Barrymore, yes?
At your service, sir.
- Mrs Barrymore. - Madam.
If I can be of service, do not hesitate to send for me, day or night.
Thank you.
(Driver) Walk on.
This way, Sir Henry.
500 years of us, just as I imagined it.
Too much as I imagined it.
What this place needs is the products of Messrs Swan and Edison,
but I suppose I can tone down to it.
Excellent meal. Please thank Mrs Barrymore.
Thank you, sir. She'll be pleased you enjoyed it.
Well, Dr Watson, shall we?
(Thunder)
- Sir... - Barrymore?
What is it?
Sir, my wife and I will be happy to stay with you
until you have settled in and made your arrangements.
But your family has been with us for generations.
I'm sorry to start my life here breaking an old family connection.
Thank you, sir.
My wife and I were... much attached to Sir Charles,
and his death...
We feel that nothing can be...
We feel...
We feel we shall never be easy here at the Hall, sir.
Right. Well, what do you mean to do?
Oh, Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means
to set up in business in a small way, sir.
Well, thank you for telling me.
Might I look forward to your pulling me a pint in your own house, one day?
That is the sort of thing, sir. Thank you, sir.
- Mind you call it Baskerville Arms. - Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.
(Thunder rumbling)
(Thunder)
That man is frightened.
(Watson) Shot.
(Thunder)
Turning into a rough night.
I shall walk over to the post office at Grimpen in the morning.
Ah.
I'm sorry, but Holmes asked me not to let you leave the house without me.
This should take care of any dog I may meet in your absence.
Even armed.
Tomorrow morning shall find me at home.
- I'm safe at home, am I? - That's what Holmes believes.
(Holmes) 'It's an ugly and dangerous business, Watson.
'I shall be glad to have you back, safe and sound, in Baker Street once more.'
(Mortimer) 'It's a realm in which the most accomplished detective is helpless.
'There are things which are impossible to reconcile to the order of nature.'
(Holmes) "Above all, avoid the moor
"when, as the old parchment quaintly puts it,
"the powers of evil are exalted."
'Do you know what the residue of Sir Charles Baskerville's estate was?
'CIose on a million.
'Such a sum has a distinctive materiality about it.'
(Woman sobbing)
Good morning. How are you today?
Oh, very well, thank you.
- There you are. - Thank you, sir.
Thank you.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye, sir.
Dr Watson? Excuse my presumption.
Dr Mortimer pointed you out from the window of his surgery as you passed.
He's told you my name? Stapleton of Merripit House.
Yes, indeed. How do you do?
We were concerned, Frankland, Mortimer and I.
- Concerned? - Lest Sir Henry should not come.
You know the legend of the fiend hound?
We thought it might seize his imagination, as it seized Sir Charles's.
How is Mr Sherlock Holmes?
Dr Watson, you are here. It follows, then, that Mr Holmes is interested.
I'm afraid I cannot answer you.
Well, may I ask if he is going to honour us with a visit himself?
He cannot leave town. Other cases engage his attention.
I am simply here to visit my friend, Sir Henry.
- I do not need help. - I apologise for the intrusion.
Erm... A moderate walk along this path brings us to Merripit House.
I wonder... Well, perhaps you would spare me an hour, Dr Watson,
that I might introduce you to my sister?
I am expected back at Baskerville Hall, but I am sure an hour will not hurt.
Thank you, Mr Stapleton.
It was entomology, was it, that brought you to the moor?
Indeed. Although I delight in it for its own sake.
It is so vast,
so... so barren,
so mysterious.
Well, there for instance. What do you make of that?
(Watson) It would be a rare place for a gallop.
(Stapleton) That is the great Grimpen Mire.
A false step there means death, to man or beast.
Only yesterday I saw one of the moor ponies wander into it. Never came out.
I could see his head for quite some time, straining out of the bog hole.
Sucked him down at last.
Even in the dry season it is a danger,
but after these recent rains, it is an awful place.
And yet, I can find my way to the very heart of it,
and return alive.
But why should you visit such a horrible place?
You see the low hills beyond it?
They are really islands. The flora there is undisturbed.
Which means that rare species can breed there.
One of them, a subspecies, lycaenidae, is unique to the place.
In fact, I, er... I am credited with its discovery.
Really?
(Unearthly howling)
- The moor is full of noises. - But what was it?
Peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for prey.
You don't believe such nonsense, surely?
Did you ever hear the boom of a bittern?
No.
The bird is said now to be confined to certain Norfolk fens. But why not here?
I've heard its cry described as something between a foghorn and a soul in torment.
What do you think?
Ah!
Hyale.
Go back! Go straight to London.
Instantly.
For God's sake, do what I ask.
Go back and never set foot on the moor again!
- Sh! My brother is coming. - Miss Stapleton...
Get away from this place, at all costs.
Do you see that orchid?
- Erm... Yes, yes, I do. - It's a pity you came so late.
Our best orchids are nearly over.
- Jack! - You have introduced yourselves, I see.
Yes. I was telling Sir Henry it's a pity he has missed the beauties of the moor.
(Chuckles) Were I Sir Henry, Miss Stapleton,
I am sure I would not miss your beauty.
But I'm afraid I am not - Sir Henry, that is - merely his friend.
Dr John Watson, at your service.
Did you catch your butterfly?
No. Hyale flies like a witch, I'm afraid.
(Watson) Ah! There!
You must forgive and forget my foolish outburst, Dr Watson.
- I cannot forget, Miss Stapleton. - You must!
Sir Henry is my friend. His welfare is a close concern of mine.
Tell me why you are so eager he should return to London.
- You know the story of the hound? - I do not believe such nonsense.
But I do! If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away.
Unless you can give me definite information,
it would be impossible to get him to move.
I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything definite.
Miss Stapleton, I would ask you one more question.
If you meant no more than this,
why were you eager that your brother should not overhear?
There is nothing to which he or anybody else could object.
My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited.
He thinks it is for the good of the poor folk on the moor.
He would be angry if he knew I had said anything
which might induce Sir Henry to go away.
- Any luck? - Afraid not.
Flies like a witch! And so beautiful.
Pale Clouded Yellow.
I have a number of them, of course.
I must show you my collection.
'The English lepidoptera are my field.
'I have made a particular study of those insects
'which inhabit the margins of heath and marsh.'
(Watson) 'A magnificent collection, and the work of a serious scientist.
'Even the exotica -
'I must mention a brilliant creature called Morpho peleides limpida -
'was dated and catalogued with the care he applies to his personal field,
'the British lycaenidae,
'one of which is unique to the moor.
'I must also report that the new brown boot has turned up.
'Barrymore found it amongst Sir Henry's luggage when he unpacked.
'Miss Stapleton is very handsome.
'On Tuesday, we are to dine here at Baskerville Hall, with all our neighbours.
'So Sir Henry, who chafes at the restrictions you have imposed upon him,
'will have a chance to judge her beauty for himself.
'We are also to meet Dr Mortimer's wife,
'and the old vicar of Grimpen, who is very shy, they say,
'and Mr Frankland, an amateur astronomer of some note,
'who has a reputation of being litigious.'
A red letter day. Law is law and I mean to teach 'em.
I have established a right of way
slap through the middle of old Middleton's park.
Case decided today.
We must teach these magnates they cannot ride roughshod over commoners!
Case decided today.
- (Mortimer) Today, Mr Frankland? - Today, sir. Why do you ask?
They are saying in Fernworthy,
you had the wood there closed to villagers, also today.
A red letter day, as I said!
True, sir! I shall be burned in effigy tonight in Fernworthy,
but I have the case against 'em!
Infernal people think there are no rights of property,
swarm where they like with their picnic papers!
Why should they complain? No one goes to the wood now.
They have to cross the moor to get to it. No one will cross the moor.
- Why is that, sir? - You have surely heard?
The hound walks abroad upon the moor.
The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sir Henry.
I have heard. Is it a phenomenon you believe in yourself, Mr Frankland?
Ask the vicar.
Astronomic and forensic matters are my domain.
Demonic matters are his.
Is it a hound of hell, Vicar? Or what?
Erm... yes... erm...
Mm... an interesting question.
Whatever it is that has been seen, it is undoubtedly something.
Our farrier, Thomas Chubb, is not a man given to visions.
And he saw something out there,
a dog, he said, but the size of a calf.
And... I do not think
local hysteria is an adequate explanation... myself.
I pray nightly that it remove itself from us, whatever it is,
that we all may sleep the more soundly.
Yes. Ah...
I believe it is Selden the murderer who frightens the folk.
In Grimpen, they believe he is still upon the moor.
We are too ready to condescend
and attribute superstition to these poor people,
when they are in fact subject to a natural and sensible fear.
(Frankland) Bravo, Miss Stapleton!
Bravo.
This hell hound's existence would not survive a court of law. Mere hearsay!
Bring the thing before the bench in the full blaze of jurisprudence,
then I will believe in it!
(Laughter)
(Lively chatter, indistinct)
Thank you for a wonderful evening.
Thank you for a lovely evening.
Good night, Doctor. Very nice to see you.
(Woman sobbing)
(Indistinct conversation)
- Sir Henry, what a splendid party! - Thank you very much.
(Frankland)... I've spoken, and I'll keep you to that. Sir Henry!
That was wonderful! That claret! Delicious!
- Absolutely lovely! Help me, now. - There you go.
There!
Drive on. Home for the night.
Here.
- Barrymore? - Yes. He's been there half an hour.
- What's he doing? - I don't know.
Look!
Out on the moor.
(Sobbing)
Sir Henry! We must not go onto the moor in darkness.
"When the powers of evil are exalted," Doctor? Bogeys to frighten children.
Come on! We have a chance of getting to the bottom of this business tonight.
There!
Watson!
(Roars)
- Are you all right? - Yes.
I thought to shoot, but I couldn't. Come on.
(Unearthly howling)
My God!
Can you believe there's any truth in these rumours?
Look!
- Who is it? - Barrymore?
It's not Selden at any rate.
We were followed in London, and we're followed still.
Come on. Let's get back to the house.
What's this all about?
Sir, it may seem that we have betrayed your trust.
Seem! Damn it, Barrymore, you have!
Sir, sir, it's no fault of his! He didn't want it! It's me.
It's me and mine.
The poor creature came to me for help, sir.
How could I refuse after what they have done to him?
Selden, Mrs Barrymore? Why should he come to a respectable woman?
He's her brother, sir.
- What? - It's true, sir.
He dragged himself here, half-starved.
What would you expect? We fed him.
We took food out, no more than you would for a dog.
We hoped he'd go.
But the light has been there night after night.
Is this true, Barrymore?
Yes, sir.
(Watson) Have you any conception what this man did?
Yes, sir.
But he... he's a broken man.
They done surgery to him, sir. To tame him.
- He is like a child, sir. - (Sobbing) Please!
Oh, please, sir! Please!
Mrs Barrymore, please get up.
- (Wailing) - This is not dignified.
By your leave, sir, arrangements have been made.
He will be out of the country in a few days.
I beg you, sir, say nothing to the police.
What do you think, Doctor?
You say he is harmless now, Barrymore. Yet he threw a rock at us.
As a child might throw stones, sir. The murderous heart has gone out of him.
He's but a frightening baby now, sir.
This is an apt description.
He will be harmless.
Very well.
Please take your wife to your room. We will say nothing about this matter.
Thank you, sir.
I thought we had a chance of getting to the bottom of this business.
All we seem to have done is compound a felony.
I'm glad that you heard that sound on the moor.
I was beginning to think I'd dreamt it.
I was in the Territories once and I heard wolves up there.
But nothing to freeze the blood like that sound tonight.
Are you convinced it's a hound?
I am.
I would to God Holmes was here!
Why does he not come?
(Crows cawing)
'And yet, Holmes, when daylight and birdsong return,
'the black imaginings of the night evaporate.
'Even Dr Mortimer's assiduous visits,
'accompanied as they are by constant talk of bones, our mortal residue,
'fail to sour the beauties of the moor in autumn.
'We are, however, still far from the heart of the mystery.
'The question which most persistently nags at me
'is who was the man on the tor?
'With his identity known,
'I feel we should have the key to this fatal riddle within our grasp.'
This is a rather nice piece of cloth...
'Meanwhile, I have discovered a streak of amiable tenderheartedness in my host.
'So guilty did he feel at nearly shooting his servant's murderous brother-in-law
'that he has given Barrymore many of his excellent American clothes,
'determined as he now is to play the role of English squire,
'in dress as in anything else.'
Much too American. I'm turning over a new leaf. You take it.
Thank you kindly, sir.
- Very smart, Sir Henry. - Oh, yeah.
Right, I'm going to stroll over to Merripit House.
I thought I'd invite Stapleton and his sister,
or rather, I should say, Miss Stapleton and her brother, to luncheon on Monday.
Well, I know you won't want me to come with you there, but Holmes insisted...
Look here, my friend, Holmes could not have foreseen certain... developments.
You'd make a very civil gooseberry, but no, I'm afraid I have to go alone.
(Guard) London, next stop.
London, next stop.
Baskerville!
How dare you, sir, make advances on my sister in such a fashion?
Jack!
I'm sure the lady gave you no reason to presume.
We welcome you, sir, and you repay the hospitality
by forcing your attentions upon her.
- But I assure you, sir... - Away, sir! Away to the Hall.
Beryl, come!
Hello, Watson. Where have you dropped from?
I took it upon myself to follow you.
I'm afraid my duty to Holmes overrode my tact.
I see.
Well, I hope they're not selling tickets in Grimpen.
- I assume you saw what happened? - Mm-hm.
Did he ever strike you as a bit crazy, this brother of hers?
Not particularly.
Oh, well, he does me. What's he getting so heated about?
What objection can he have to me as brother-in-law?
I mean, he can't object to my worldly position, so it must be me myself.
Oh, I don't know. Do you see it?
- Not at all. - Nor me.
Oh, thanks.
He won't let us be together, not for a moment.
He must realise...
I don't understand. There's a light in her eyes that speaks louder than words.
I know it. I know it in my heart.
But he treats me as if I was... as if I was a mad seducer in an old melodrama.
Oh, it's absurd.
Perhaps...
What?
I was just thinking that this business with the hound, and the curse and so on,
if Stapleton partly believes it's true,
perhaps he might want his sister not to be...
Yes, I know.
Just till the business is resolved.
Yes, of course.
Well, shall we walk home together?
The Royal Observatory, please.
- I am forever in your debt. - Oh, no, not at all.
- Well, good day. - Good day, Sir Henry.
Well, well!
- What happened? - Stapleton. I still think the fellow's crazy.
But he's just given me the most complete apology imaginable,
and he's invited us to dinner. Tomorrow. Friday, indeed.
Good. I'll look forward to it.
Ah! The post at Grimpen.
Just so.
- There you are. - Thank you, sir.
(Knocking on door)
- May I have a word, sir? - Of course.
You've... you've been very good to us, sir,
and I should like to do the best I can for you.
- It's something I found out, sir. - Yes?
We found it after the inquest.
Haven't told a mortal soul. Didn't know how.
About Sir Charles's death, sir.
Do you know how he died?
- No, sir. - Well, what, then?
I do know why he was at the gate at that hour.
- Why? - To meet a woman, sir.
Woman? Are you sure?
- Oh, yes, sir. - Well, what was her name?
I can only give you her initials, sir.
It was something my wife found, cleaning this room, Sir Charles's study.
In the grate she found this scrap of paper.
'Twas all burnt but, like... could still be read.
From the shine in the writing, if you know what I mean.
Of course, I understand. Please go on.
Well, she called to me and I wrote it down.
"Please, please, as you are a gentleman,
"burn this letter and be at the gate by ten o'clock."
And then the initials. "LL".
Good afternoon, Dr Watson!
- Mr Frankland? - Come along up. I shall order you tea.
Thank you.
You are here to solve the Baskerville mystery, are you not? I have a telescope.
I see things on the moor. You should know about them.
- What a striking portrait. - Hmm?
"Laura". Your daughter, Mr Frankland?
Yes. Yes, that is my daughter.
The woman she has become is not.
This way, Doctor.
- How's that? - Disinherited her.
- Sorry to hear it. - You are?
What do you suppose such a thing does to a father?
This way.
Married her seducer, sir.
An artist! So-called. Not that artist. That artist earned his living.
Her artist was too grand to earn his living. Artist? Wastrel!
Lyons. Fellow called Lyons. Ever heard of him?
Erm... No, actually.
- (Whispers) Laura Lyons... - Nobody has!
After her money. My money!
I was burnt in effigy in Fernworthy last week.
- You predicted that. - Exactly so!
I know the slackness of authority hereabouts.
Frankland v Regina will bring the matter before the attention of the public.
I told the police they would regret their treatment of me.
- Already my words have come true. - How so?
I could tell them what they are dying to know.
- You're not going to? - Certainly not.
- A case of poaching? - Poaching? Fiddlesticks! The convict!
Selden, the mad stabber!
- You know where he is? - Near enough.
It never occurred to the police,
the way to catch the man was to find where he got his food and trace it to him.
- Barrymore! - His food is taken to him by a child.
- A child? - Why not?
I have observed the child for more than a week.
It is in the nature of children to form perverse allegiances.
Surely, it's more likely to be the child of a shepherd, taking him his lunch?
Flocks move.
Quick! Dr Watson, quick.
Yes, I see him.
- Dr Mortimer. - Dr Watson!
I have something to show you.
- Isn't it beautiful? - Splendid.
The most complete I have yet found.
I found it myself. The labourers aren't here today.
It is quite, quite beautiful.
Ha! If there is one animal on this planet which I cannot abide, it is a rabbit.
- Really? - Rabbits burrow.
Have you any conception of what rabbits can do to a dig in a single night?
You were on your way to the necropolis. I could show you round.
The... necropolis?
Most people think it a Neolithic village. I have reason to believe it a burial ground.
Some most interesting features.
I should be glad of your company. There's someone bivouacked there.
Who is it?
It's the man who has been at Sir Henry's heels.
I can't think his motives are benevolent.
So, if you come, I should be obliged if you'd bring that gun you handle so well.
There may be some danger.
If there's to be danger, then two guns will be better than one.
- Do you know Laura Lyons? - Frankland's daughter?
She's a patient of mine. She lives in Coombe Tracey.
He's cut her off, you know. Without a penny.
- Was she acquainted with Sir Charles? - It's possible.
After her marriage went wrong,
she was able to set up for herself in a small way, as a typist.
Sir Charles may have made that possible. He fostered many good causes.
She may have been one of them.
What sort of a painter was Lyons?
Brilliant.
"Dr Watson is at Lafter Hall."
Perhaps it is you who has been dogged by this secret man, and not Sir Henry.
What do we do?
I intend to wait.
Lamp.
It's a lovely evening, Doctor. I really think you would be more comfortable outside.
When I see a cigarette stub marked Bradley, Oxford Street,
I know my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood. Be careful with that gun.
I thought you were in Baker Street, working out that case of blackmailing.
That is what I wished you to think.
(Laughs)
I have deserved better, Holmes. You use me and do not trust me.
My presence would have warned our opponents and put them on their guard.
It was essential that you and Sir Henry believed me to be in London all the time.
- Dr Mortimer. - Mr Holmes.
- How long have you been in Devon? - You saw me on my second night.
I was foolish enough to show myself against the moon.
Then all my reports have been wasted!
No, no.
Here they are, and very well thumbed, I assure you.
I had to subvert the local post office.
Brilliant, my dear fellow.
Brilliant.
You must have much to discuss, and I must be getting home.
One question.
Are you any closer to discovering what, if anything, the hound is?
I am.
Does it exist?
It does.
Thank you, Dr Mortimer.
Mr Holmes.
- Good day, Dr Watson. - Thank you for your help.
Let me see what meagre refreshment I can provide.
Cartwright, the little chap from the express office, I brought him with me...
to look after my simple wants. A loaf of bread and a clean collar.
I have discovered a woman living in Coombe Tracey with the initials LL.
Ah, yes, Frankland's daughter. Laura Lyons.
Our researches have been running along the same lines.
Did you know that she is seeking a divorce from her husband?
But she lacks the means to carry it through.
- Do try my stew. - Ah.
Dr Mortimer thought Sir Charles might have been a discreet benefactor.
Really? That's interesting.
Please, Watson.
It's quite disgusting, Holmes.
Yes. Yes, it is.
Well, it's better when it's hot.
Did you know there was an intimacy between Laura Lyons and Stapleton?
No, I did not.
Yes. They meet, they write.
She is, no doubt, counting on becoming his wife.
That is a powerful weapon in our hands.
How? I don't understand.
Miss Stapleton is in reality Stapleton's wife, not his sister.
His wife?
Yes, it was she who sent us that warning to the Northumberland Hotel.
Why this elaborate deception?
Do not ask me for particulars, Watson, but it is murder.
Refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder.
Well, what led you to him?
He is a genuine entomologist.
But that mention of his sole claim to fame.
His discovery of a subspecies, lycaenidae. That was his fatal moment.
There can only be one discoverer of a species.
That pinpointed him.
- It has been a hard trail... - (Scream)
(Snarling)
Quickly.
(Screaming)
(Watson) It's Sir Henry!
It's Selden.
Sir Henry's clothes were the poor devil's death.
Poor devil, indeed.
It was only a half life, in truth.
No one must know for the moment.
We must hide the body.
Sir Henry must know nothing of hearing the hound.
He will have a better nerve for the ordeal he must undergo tomorrow.
So... this is Baskerville Hall.
One moment, Watson.
- Who? - It's Stapleton.
He's a Baskerville.
Sir Charles's brother, who died of yellow fever in Costa Rica, did not die childless.
We have him, Watson. We have him.
By tomorrow night, he will be fluttering in our net,
as helpless as one of his own butterflies.
Watson and I must go to London.
London?
I think we will be more useful there at this present juncture.
Excuse me.
- Might I have some fresh coffee? - Certainly, sir.
But I thought that you were going to see me through this business.
- Trust me, my dear fellow. - I do.
Tell Stapleton I would have been happy to come,
but that business required me to be in town.
I don't understand. Should I not come with you? Why should I stay here alone?
You must stay. And do exactly as I tell you.
- Of course I will. - Drive to Merripit House.
Send the trap back and let it be known that you intend to walk home.
Across the moor?
At night?
If I had not every confidence in your courage I would not suggest it.
It is essential that you do it.
Then I will do just what you say.
Take the path, exactly on the path,
from Merripit House to the Grimpen Road, your natural way home.
(Sir Henry) When do you intend to leave?
Immediately after breakfast.
- Thank you. - Sir.
(Train whistle)
(Departure whistle)
(Dogs barking)
- Mrs Lyons? - Yes?
So...
you admit that you asked Sir Charles to meet you at the gate at ten o'clock.
- But you did not keep the appointment? - I did not.
You realise that was the hour of his death?
Is that an accusation, sir?
No, no.
I am only asking if you can forge a connection between the two events?
There is no connection.
Mrs Lyons, we believe this to be a case of murder.
The evidence may implicate not only Mr Stapleton, but his wife as well.
His wife?
Mrs Lyons, the person who has passed for his sister is really his wife.
His wife!
Mr Holmes...
Mr Stapleton offered me marriage
on condition I could obtain a divorce from my husband.
He told me he...
Oh, he has lied.
He has lied and lied and lied.
Why should I preserve faith with him who never kept any with me?
Ask me what you will. There is nothing I shall hold back.
(Watson) You said Sir Charles helped you to set up as a professional typist.
Presumably that was after your husband deserted you?
Yes.
Sir Charles knew my father would not help me.
One thing I swear to you,
when I wrote the letter, I never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman,
who had been my kindest friend.
I entirely believe you, madam.
And Sir Charles used Stapleton as an intermediary?
He did not like to be seen to be doing good.
And the letter that you sent to Sir Charles on the day of his death?
I needed money for my divorce.
I had heard he was leaving for London.
And the sending of the letter was suggested by Stapleton?
He dictated it.
The reason he gave
was that Sir Charles would help with the legal expenses of my divorce.
He dissuaded you from keeping the appointment?
And swore me to silence concerning it.
He said that the death had been a mysterious one,
that I should certainly be suspected, were the facts to become known.
He frightened me into silence.
You have had a very fortunate escape, Mrs Lyons.
You have been near the edge of the precipice.
Students of criminology will remember the incidents in Grodno, in the year '66.
And of course, there are the Anderson murders in North Carolina.
But this case possesses features which are entirely its own.
- Dr Watson tells me you handle a gun. - I am fairly proficient.
Well, it was you who first brought this case to our attention.
It is only right that you be with us at the climax.
Thank you.
While Dr Mortimer and I guard the path, you watch the house, Watson.
I don't like it.
There is fog in the air.
It's in the hollows already.
Be careful, Watson.
I'm so pleased you could come. It's a pity Dr Watson had to return to London.
Nevertheless, I'm sure we'll have a pleasant evening.
If you'd excuse me for a moment, Sir Henry.
Help!
Help, please!
Help me, please.
(Watson) Sir Henry was still inside the house when I left.
(Holmes) It's getting late.
- You say Beryl Stapleton was not there? - I cannot think where she might be.
There were only two places laid for dinner.
The fog is getting thicker all the time.
Courage, Sir Henry! Brave it!
It's coming.
- (Screaming) - (Hound snarling)
(Low howl, then silence)
You're a brave man.
Doctor.
It's all right, Sir Henry. It's all right.
The hound got past us.
Now, if you can manage it, we must get back to the house as soon as possible.
Phosphorus.
No, sir! No, sir!
I protest! It's an outrage. Sir, you are not allowed.
Watson!
Stop, sir, stop!
- (Holmes) The door's locked. - Help. Help me.
- Help, please, help. - (Banging)
In here! Help!
(Watson) She's badly hurt.
Brute.
All right.
I thought this man loved me.
He loves nothing.
Where is he? The police...
He escaped.
He will go to his island in the mire.
(Squelching)
I must take care, great care.
No.
(Grunts) No...
- (Squelch) - No!
Help me!
Please, somebody help me!
Help me!
(Screams)
(Watson) 'Stapleton had bought the dog from Mangles of the Fulham... '
(Holmes) 'Ross! And Mangles in the Fulham Road.'
(Watson) 'Ross and Mangles of the Fulham Road, London.'
He took it on the North Devon line,
and walked a great distance over the moor to his home.
- He kennelled it at the Grimpen Mire. - The Grimpen Mire.
How did he expect to claim the inheritance
if this creature had mauled Sir Henry to death?
Mauled. A very good word, Watson. Through intermediaries.
Beryl Stapleton said he intended to return to Central America
and conduct his claim upon the estate from Costa Rica.
Having established his identity as a Baskerville
through the authorities there.
He had no interest in the estate. He simply wanted the money.
The boot? He stole the boot, presumably,
to have an article of Sir Henry's clothes to set the hound on him?
That is why the new boot would not do. Sir Henry had not worn it.
Watson, we are late!
I have tickets for Les Huguenots at Covent Garden.
- A little dinner at Marcini's on the way? - Wonderful, Holmes.
Paper! Paper! Who wants an evening paper?