It's no good. I shall have to go.
Go? Go where?
King's Pyland.
"Inspector Gregory of the Devonshire Constabulary arrested
"well-known racing personality Fitzroy Simpson and charged him
"with the murder of trainer John Straker."
- (Knocking) - Come in.
- Two more telegrams, Mr Holmes. - Thank you, Mrs Hudson.
You've been bombarded the last few days.
Another one from Inspector Gregory. And one from Colonel Ross.
- That's the horse's owner. - Thank you, my dear.
Watson.
I have made a blunder which, I am afraid, is a more common occurrence
than anyone would think who only knew me through your memoirs.
The fact is that I could not believe
that so remarkable a horse as Silver Blaze could disappear,
especially in the seclusion of somewhere like north Dartmoor.
I've been expecting to hear
that the abductor was the murderer of John Straker and the horse was found.
Well, I... should be happy to go with you.
Now, Tavistock.
If I should not be in the way.
Ah!
Oh, my dear Watson, you would confer a great favour upon me by coming.
I'm sure your time will not be misspent.
The case promises to be absolutely unique.
We can just catch our train from Paddington.
Would you be so kind as to bring your field glasses?
Ha!
Mrs Hudson! We're off to Dartmoor.
Tickets, please.
- Thank you, Inspector. - Thank you.
Watson, we are going well.
Our speed at present is 53 and a half miles an hour.
I have not observed the quarter-mile posts.
Nor have I
but the telegraph posts on this line are 60 yards apart
and the calculation is a simple one.
Has that remarkably coloured paper anything to say on our horse?
What? Oh, yes.
Yes?
Here we are. Silver Blaze.
- "Silver Blaze is from Isonomy stock..." - Isonomy?
"...and holds as brilliant a record as his famous ancestor.
"He is now in his fifth year and has brought in turn
"each of the prizes of the turf to Colonel Ross, his fortunate owner.
"At the time of the catastrophe, he was first favourite for the Wessex Cup,
"the odds quoted being two to one against.
"He has always been a prime favourite with the racing public
"and has never yet disappointed them.
"In spite of the unfavourable price,
"a great deal of money has been placed upon him
"so it is obvious, therefore, that there are many people with the strongest interest
"in preventing Silver Blaze from being there at the fall of the flag."
All right, Baines, will you stop here, please? This is rather a good view.
That's King's Pyland over there, Mr Holmes.
My training stable where the horse was kept.
What exactly does your establishment consist of, Colonel Ross?
Well, there's the trainer's house,
where poor Straker lived with his wife and a maidservant.
- How long had he been with you, sir? - Oh...
Five years as a jockey till he got too heavy for the weighing chair.
Seven years as my trainer. Yes, he was a first-class man.
- And I presume the stables are beyond? - Yes.
Not a big yard but a good one. My style is quality not quantity.
As anyone connected to the turf will tell you.
Thank you, Inspector. At the moment, I have only five horses in the yard.
I see you have two of them entered for the Wessex Cup, Colonel Ross.
That's right, yes.
Silver Blaze and Bayard.
But, between ourselves, Bayard is intended for a pacemaker.
With such valuable animals under his charge I imagine your trainer, Straker,
- must have taken some precautions? - Oh, yes, indeed.
Three stable lads lived with the horses
and after dark, one of the lads was always on duty in the stables
while the other two sleep above in the loft.
Is that another training stable over there?
Yes, that's Mapleton. That's Lord Backwater's yard.
Lord Backwater.
Lord Backwater owns Desborough, the second favourite for the Wessex Cup.
Not a bad horse. Not in the same class as Silver Blaze.
Fellow called Silas Brown trains for Backwater.
Can't stick the fellow myself, nor could Straker, come to that.
There's a natural rivalry, I presume?
Rather more than that.
- Shall we drive on? - Yes, indeed.
All right, Baines.
Inspector Gregory, any developments as to the whereabouts of the horse?
Nothing at all. We have made very little progress in that direction.
I can't imagine how a horse like Silver Blaze
could go missing in a place like this.
Nor can I. I must tell you, Mr Holmes,
I was not taken with Inspector Gregory's suggestion
that you should be asked to come down.
I don't like amateurs, you see.
Ha!
But you did send me a telegram, Colonel.
Well, no one else seems to be able to find my horse.
If you ask me, it's these damn Gypsies wandering all over the moor.
It's a perfect scandal. I've said so for years.
My men have seen every group of Gypsies on Dartmoor
in the last two days, Colonel.
And searched every stable yard, quarry and cave in South Devon.
It's an absolute mystery.
(Dogs bark)
Go on, get up!
(Ross) I expect a miracle from you, Mr Holmes.
Inspector Gregory, Scotland Yard tells me
you are rapidly making a reputation for yourself
in the English detective service.
I'm a keen student of your methods too, Mr Holmes.
I have the two principal witnesses waiting for you.
(Dog growls)
- (Dog continues barking) - (Man) All right.
(Dog growling)
- In here, Mr Holmes. - Who are they?
Edith, the maid, and Hunter, the stable boy,
who was on duty on Monday night.
It was just a few minutes after nine o'clock, sir.
I was carrying Mr Hunter's supper across from the house.
Ah, Miss Baxter.
What did the supper consist of?
It was a dish of curried mutton, sir.
(Fox barking)
'Suddenly, I heard a man's voice. It didn't half give me a turn, I can tell you, sir.'
- Excuse me, miss. - What do you want, sir?
Can you tell me where I am?
I had almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor when I saw the light.
King's Pyland training stables, sir.
What a stroke of luck.
I understand there's a stable lad sleeps here at night.
No doubt that's his supper you have there.
I'm sure you wouldn't be too proud to earn yourself the price of a new dress.
See the boy has this and you shall have the prettiest frock money can buy.
I couldn't.
Ned! Ned!
Ned! There's a man stopped me out there. I'm ever so frightened.
- What did he want? - He asked after you.
- He asked me to give you something. - What was it?
I don't know, it was white.
- Where is he now? - He's gone.
Well, you best cut back up the house quick. Tell the guv'nor.
- Good evening, I want a word with you. - What business have you here?
A business that may put something in your pocket.
You've two horses entered in the Wessex Cup, Silver Blaze and Bayard.
Let me have the straight tip and you won't be the loser.
Is it that at the weights Bayard can give the other 100 yards in five furlongs?
We don't want any damned touts round here! Get out!
(Dog barks)
After him, boy. After him.
The guv'nor came down but we found neither sight nor sound of the man.
One moment. When you let the dog out, did you leave the door open behind you?
Excellent, Watson. Excellent. Just the point I was going to make.
I locked the door behind me. I swear it.
Good lad.
Does Fitzroy Simpson admit to all this?
He denies nothing.
He says he came for information.
- What about the white paper? - He says it was a five-pound note.
What happened next?
Well, sir, it was about dawn when the mistress came into my bedroom
and told me to come with her.
When she'd woke, she'd found Mr Straker's bed empty.
Heavens! The horse is gone.
And the bridle.
Ned! Wake up.
Wake the boys. Ned, Ned, wake up! Wake up, Ned!
Bill. Nobby. Come quick. Silver Blaze is gone.
Over here.
He was dead, sir.
His head...
was all knocked in.
It was terrible.
(Gregory) 'A blow on the head from some blunt instrument had killed him.'
It was clear that he had defended himself most vigorously - the bloodstained knife.
As to the wound on the thigh, who can tell?
It is possible that the wound on the thigh could have been caused as Straker fell.
The lad here was drugged.
Appreciable quantities of powdered opium were found in his curry.
- Did the household eat the same dish? - Yes, sir.
I made it myself and served it.
This black and red scarf.
The gentleman was wearing that scarf when he talked to me.
I'd swear that on the Bible, sir.
Thank you, Watson.
Thank you.
(Dog snarling and barking)
Stop it, boy. Stop it.
My theory is that Simpson was under some strong obligation
to nobble or incapacitate this horse
so that he would be unable to run in the Wessex Cup.
Clever move, opium in the boy's food.
- Easy enough through that window. - Yes.
Then it was simple. He'd obtained a duplicate key, led out the horse.
It was his bad luck that Straker was alert enough to catch him up.
In the struggle, the horse bolted.
There's no proof that Simpson killed Straker.
The evidence against him is strong.
He was here on some devious business. He poisoned the stable lad.
He had in his hand a heavy stick weighted with lead
and his scarf was found in the dead man's hand.
He went as pale as death when I confronted him.
We have enough to go before a jury.
No, no, no. Inspector, a clever counsel would tear it all to rags.
Has a duplicate key been found in his possession?
- No. - What chemist sold him the opium?
And how could he, a stranger in the district,
hide a horse, such a horse as Silver Blaze?
I agree that the evidence is circumstantial
but I think the net is drawn tightly round Fitzroy Simpson.
I believe he is our man.
What sort of a fellow is he? Why would he do such a thing?
Fitzroy Simpson is a man of excellent birth and education.
Unfortunately, he has squandered a fortune on the turf,
which has put him in the hands of moneylenders and bookmakers.
- Plenty of sharks in the racing world. - I didn't know you were a betting man.
Oh, just the occasional flutter.
I presume an inventory has been made
of what Straker had in his pockets at his death?
I have the things in the sitting room, if you would care to see them.
Weiss and Co., London.
This is the knife that was found in the dead man's grasp?
- Yes, indeed. - This is more in your line, Doctor.
Yes, it's what we call a cataract knife.
A very delicate blade devised for very delicate work.
A strange thing for a man to take on so rough an expedition, Holmes,
especially as it wouldn't shut in his pocket.
The tip was guarded by a disc of cork which we found beside the body.
- You impress me, Inspector. - Thank you.
It was on the dressing table.
It was probably the nearest thing to hand at the time.
Now, let's see.
Corn merchant's bill.
Instructions from Colonel Ross.
What have we here?
A milliner's account for £37/15s
from a Madame Lesurier of Bond Street, London.
To a Mr William Derbyshire.
Derbyshire was a friend who occasionally had letters addressed here.
22 guineas.
Somewhat heavy for a single costume.
Mrs Derbyshire had rather expensive tastes.
Well, there appears to be nothing more to learn here.
Shall we move on to the scene of the crime?
After you.
Have you got them, Inspector?
- Is there any more news? - I'm afraid not, Mrs Straker.
But Mr Holmes and Dr Watson have come down from London to help us.
I assure you, we are doing everything possible.
Oh, I wish you good luck, Mr Holmes.
Thank you, madam, and our commiserations on your great loss.
Surely we met at a garden party in Plymouth some time ago.
No, sir. You are mistaken.
Do you know, I could have sworn it?
You wore a costume of dove-coloured silk with ostrich-feather trimming.
I never had such a dress, sir.
That quite settles it. Thank you.
That bush is where the coat was hanging.
- What was the weather like? - Oh, calm. Bit of rain about.
Then the coat was not blown against the bush but placed there.
Inspector. No, no, no.
(Holmes sighs)
So many people have trampled around this land.
There have been many people here.
That matting has been placed there and we all stood upon that.
Not the general public!
I have in this bag one of the boots John Straker wore...
one of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes...
and a cast horseshoe of Silver Blaze.
Thank you, Inspector.
A half-burned wax vesta
and a candle end.
I cannot understand how I came to overlook them.
They were invisible, buried in the mud.
I only saw them because I was looking for them.
- You expected to find them? - I thought it not unlikely.
I'm afraid there are no more tracks.
I've examined the ground for 100 yards in every direction.
What a pleasant evening. I think I'll take a walk, stretch my legs.
Watson? I'll take this for luck.
I have some work to do, then Colonel Ross is coming to take us to Tavistock.
Good evening, Constable!
Supposing Silver Blaze broke away, where would he have gone?
If he'd run loose on the moor, he'd have surely been seen by now.
- Perhaps the Gypsy theory is correct. - No, no, no.
The horse is a most gregarious creature.
Now, he did not go back to King's Pyland, to his own stables,
so he must have gone...
to Mapleton.
Now, let us use that as a working hypothesis.
The ground around here is very hard and dry but over there, in that hollow,
it must have been very wet on Monday night.
If our supposition is correct, he must have crossed it.
Watson!
By George. Look at that.
You see the value of imagination?
It is the one quality which Inspector Gregory lacks.
We imagined what might have happened, acted upon the supposition
and find ourselves justified. Let us proceed.
Yes.
Look.
Horse...
and man...
turned.
No loitering round here. Haven't you got eyes in your head?
I only wanted to ask you a question.
Should I be too early to see Mr Silas Brown
if I call at 5:30 tomorrow morning?
I shouldn't be speaking to you by rights.
Here, lad.
Mr Brown's the early bird round here, all right.
Dawson, what are you doing gossiping with strangers? Be about your business.
- What the devil do you two want here? - A few minutes of your time, Mr Brown.
Be off with you or you'll find the dog on your heels.
Why should I talk to every gadabout stranger on the moor?
It may save you instant dismissal
from Lord Backwater's service
and a stiffish prison sentence.
Keep guard.
Early Tuesday morning...
you were about the yard as usual,
when you saw a horse on the moor.
You approached and realised it wasn't a strange horse
but one that you knew very well.
Your first instinct was to lead Silver...
Silver Blaze back to King's Pyland,
but then the devil put other ideas into your head.
It was a chance to make a great deal of money.
It occurred to you that if you were to hide the horse...
You've been watching me, haven't you?
You've been spying on me, sir.
Look, sir.
I'll do what you want.
If it's money you want,
you shall have it.
You will do exactly as I tell you.
A more perfect compound of the bully, coward and sneak
than Master Silas Brown I have seldom met.
- He has the horse, then? - Of course.
- But his stables have been searched. - A faker like him knows many a dodge.
I don't know whether you observed
but Colonel Ross's manner to me has been cavalier.
Let's have some amusement at his expense.
- Say nothing to him about the horse. - Nothing without your permission.
Splendid.
We have found traces which show that a party of Gypsies
encamped on Monday night within a mile of where the murder took place.
Simpson may have an understanding with them over hiding the horse.
Nevertheless, I think I owe it to the public
to remove Silver Blaze's name from the entries for the cup.
Certainly not. Colonel, I should let the name stand.
I've already withdrawn Bayard.
I have every hope that Silver Blaze will start on Saturday.
Have your jockey in readiness.
I'm very glad to have your opinion, sir.
That is a minor point, of course,
compared with the question of who killed John Straker.
Doubtless you will devote yourself to that problem.
On the contrary. Dr Watson and I are taking the night express to London.
We've had the most charming little breath of your country air.
(Laughs)
So you've despaired already of arresting the murderer of poor John Straker?
There are certain grave difficulties.
Do you have a photograph of Straker?
Thank you, Inspector. I am quite ready now for Tavistock.
Linger.
Well, I must say I am rather disappointed in our London consultant.
I don't see that we are any further from when he came.
You have his assurance that your horse will run.
Oh, yes, I have his assurance. I should prefer to have the horse.
I think you should heed Mr Holmes's advice, Colonel.
Well, I shall have to see.
Excuse me, who looks after these sheep?
I do, sir.
Have you noticed anything amiss of late?
Well, sir, it's not of much account but three of them have gone lame.
Thank you.
A long shot, Watson, a very long shot. After you.
Inspector, I'd like to recommend to you the singular epidemic among the sheep.
You really consider that to be important?
- Exceedingly so. - (Snorts)
All right, Baines.
Is there any other point to which you wish to draw my attention, Mr Holmes?
To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.
But the dog did nothing in the night-time.
That is the curious incident.
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.
Where the devil is my horse, Holmes? Where the devil is it?
I suppose, Colonel, that you would recognise him if you saw him?
Know my own horse?
I've been on the turf for 20 years
and I've never been asked such a damn-fool question before.
A child would know Silver Blaze,
with the white star on his forehead and mottled hind leg.
I suppose you realise that if my horse doesn't run,
quite apart from being lynched by the crowd, I shall be up before the stewards,
probably warned off every racecourse in England for life, reputation ruined.
Ah, let us hope it does not come to that, Colonel.
Here's Dr Watson.
And this,
Colonel,
is your horse.
That's not my horse, Holmes. Good God, man. What have you done?
Easy.
Easy. Thank you.
All right.
There, Colonel, is your Silver Blaze.
I found him in the hands of a faker
and brought him to the course just as he was.
Good heavens.
You've taken my breath away, Mr Holmes.
(Shouting)
- Silver Blaze, please. - If he runs, my lord.
- To win or place, my lord? - To win, of course.
Any more you like at home?
(Cheering)
What's the matter with the damned horse?
What have you done to him, Holmes?
I think he's missing his pacemaker.
- I should never have withdrawn Bayard. - Wait. He's breaking through.
Come on, Silver Blaze. Come on.
(Shouting)
You've done wonders, Mr Holmes.
And I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your ability.
Now, you have done me a great service by recovering my horse.
You would do me a greater still if you could
lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.
- I have done so. - What?
What's all this about? Where is he, then?
- He's here. - Here? Where?
Someone who is now present at this very moment.
Yes, I quite recognise that I am under obligations to you, Mr Holmes,
but this is either a very bad joke or an insult.
The real murderer is standing immediately behind you.
The horse?
Yes, the horse.
And it may lessen his guilt if I say it was done entirely in self-defence.
And that John Straker...
was a man quite unworthy of your trust.
Number four, sir. Winner.
Colonel Ross.
Thank you very much.
Thank you very much. Thank you.
I had it last year. Do you remember?
Yes. Very nice of you. Thank you.
(Cheering)
Thank you very much.
- Number 12. - Number 12...
(Applause)
Very proud of it. Very proud. Thank you very much.
(Crowd cheers)
I confess, Colonel, that when we came down,
I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson was the true culprit.
All the newspaper and police reports seemed to point to him.
It was only when I entered the trainer's house
that the immense significance of the curried mutton occurred to me.
I confess that, even now, I cannot see how it helps us.
Powdered opium, Colonel, is by no means tasteless.
- I am correct? - Quite correct.
The flavour is not distasteful but it is perceptible.
Mixed with an ordinary dish, the eater would undoubtedly detect it
but probably eat no more.
Curry was exactly the medium with which to disguise the taste.
So it must have been Straker or his wife.
Exactly.
I remember you spoke of a dog.
(Bell reverberates)
(Silences bell)
The dog that didn't bark in the night.
Someone had been into the stable and taken out the horse
and the dog had not barked.
Obviously, this midnight visitor was someone the dog knew well.
I was already convinced it was Straker.
But for what purpose should he take out the horse and drug his own stable boy?
A dishonest one, obviously.
There have been cases where trainers had made great sums
by laying against their own horses and then preventing them from winning.
Sometimes you get a pulling jockey, I will say that.
And sometimes by surer and more subtle means.
This...
singular knife.
It was found in the dead man's hand
and which no sane man would use as a weapon. Right, Doctor?
Yes, it is only used in the most delicate operations.
It was used for a very delicate operation that night.
Excuse me.
As you know, Colonel, with your wide knowledge of...
turf matters,
that it is possible to make a slight nick in the horse's tendon
and do it subcutaneously.
Any slight lameness would be put down to a strain in training or a bruise,
never foul play.
Villain! Damned scoundrel!
Not an operation to be done in the stable. No food for me.
So sensitive a creature would arouse the soundest of sleepers.
I've been blind, and Gregory too.
That's why he needed the candle and struck the match.
When I examined Straker's belongings, I was fortunate enough to discover
not only the method of the crime but also the motive.
Most men do not carry other people's bills in their pockets.
From this, I concluded that Straker was leading a double life.
The nature of the bill shows that there was a woman in the case
and a woman of expensive tastes.
Liberal though you are with your servants,
I'm sure they are not able to afford
22-guinea walking dresses for their ladies.
Mrs Straker never had one, by her own admission.
When I visited Bond Street the other morning,
I showed Madame Lesurier this photograph of Straker.
She recognised him
as an extremely good customer called William Derbyshire.
With a very dashing young wife with a partiality for expensive dresses.
Women. Women!
I suppose it was she who plunged him head over heels into debt
and so led him to this miserable plot.
Straker led out Silver Blaze into the hollow...
where his light would not be visible from the yard.
'Simpson, in his flight, had dropped his scarf.
'Straker picked it up with the idea, no doubt,
'that he might use it in securing the horse's leg.
'Straker was able to light his candle
'but just as he had the knife ready,
'the horse lashed out and caught him a fatal blow on the forehead.'
(Watson) Why? Why did the horse lash out so suddenly?
Frightened by the candle, the knife?
Animals have a strange instinct.
They seem to know when some mischief is intended.
(Slurps)
My final shot, I must confess, was a long one.
It struck me that such an astute a man as Straker
would not undertake this tendon-nicking without a little practice.
Baa!
The sheep. Of course.
Wonderful, my dear Holmes.
Now, you've explained all but one thing. The horse.
Now, where was the horse?
Well, I think we must have a little amnesty in that direction, Colonel.
It bolted and was looked after by one of your neighbours.
Gentlemen, I give you a toast.
To Silver Blaze, coupled with the names of my friends,
Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.
To Silver Blaze.