Girls, you are too wild.
- Mr Scott Eccles. - Mr Garcia.
I'm sorry, I did not recognise you at once.
- Please allow me to carry your case. - Very civil of you.
I'm sorry the weather has been unkind for your visit.
Unkind for you, perhaps.
We British, you know, we're hardy souls.
The county of Surrey is particularly interesting as far as maps are concerned.
I'm looking forward to showing you my entire collection of Surrey maps.
There's Moule and Ogilby. I've got one or two here I can show you.
(Bell)
- He used to draw one or two... - Vamos.
Eso va a ser todo por ahora. Guarda el coche y el caballo.
- Ah. This is your house? - Yes. Please, you are welcome.
It's very nice. Very nice.
I suppose, Watson, we must look upon you as a man of letters.
How do you define the word "grotesque"?
Grotesque? Ah...
Strange, remarkable?
No, no, no, surely there's more to it than that.
Some underlying suggestion of the tragic and the terrible.
Cast your mind back to those narratives with which you've afflicted the public.
You will see how often the word "grotesque"
has deepened into the criminal.
I suppose the affair of the red-headed men
was grotesque enough at the outset.
Or that most grotesque affair of the five orange pips.
Which led straight to a murderous conspiracy. The word puts me on alert.
- Have it you there? - Hm.
"I have just had the most incredible and grotesque experience.
"May I consult you? Scott Eccles."
- Post Office, Charing Cross. - Ah.
- Man or woman? - A man.
No woman would send a reply-paid telegram. She would have come.
Will you see him?
Oh, my dear Watson.
You know how bored I've been since we locked up Colonel Carruthers.
Life is commonplace.
- The newspapers are sterile. - (Bell)
Audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world.
Of course I'll see him.
Unless I am very much mistaken, this is our client.
- Mr Holmes? - Thank you.
- Well, are you Mr Holmes? - Certainly.
I have just had a most singular and unpleasant experience.
Never in my life have I been subjected to such embarrassment
and been placed in such a position.
Please sit down, Mr Scott Eccles. My friend Dr Watson.
Now, in the first place, may I ask why you have come to me at all?
Sir, it didn't appear to be a matter which concerned the police,
yet when you've heard the facts you must admit
I couldn't just leave it where it was.
Private detectives, they are a class with whom I have no sympathy.
Sit, Mr Scott Eccles!
Well... Nonetheless, having heard your name...
- Quite so. - I decided...
In the second place, why did you not come to me at once?
- What do you mean? - It is now a quarter past two.
Your telegram was dispatched at one.
No one can glance at your toilet and attire
without seeing your disturbance dates from your waking.
What...
But you're right, Mr Holmes. Yes, I never gave a thought to my toilet.
I was only too glad to get out of such a house.
Oh, no. No, thank you.
You see, I've been running round making enquiries before I came here.
I called at the house agents, you know, oh, yes,
and they said that Mr Garcia's rent was paid up all right
and that everything was in order in Wisteria Lodge.
Come! Come, sir, you know, you're like my friend Watson.
He tells his stories wrong end foremost.
Please arrange your thoughts and let me know, in their due sequence,
exactly what those events are
which have sent you out unbrushed and unkempt,
with your dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry,
in search of advice and assistance.
Well, I'm a bachelor,
and being of a sociable turn, I cultivate a large number of friends.
'At the table of one of them recently, I met a young fellow named Garcia.
'A pleasant chap, of Spanish descent,
'connected in some way with the embassy.
'We discovered a common interest in cartography, or so I thought.
'That's the study of old maps.
'The plan was to retrace Surrey as Thomas Moule engraved it 50 years ago.
'Well, as soon as I arrived yesterday evening, I knew something was wrong.
'The atmosphere of the place. The house was tumbledown, depressing.
'Garcia told me he had a wonderful cook,
'a half-breed he'd picked up on his travels,
'but the dinner, well, was so ill-prepared and served with such bad grace
'that it was barely edible.
'I can assure you there were many times in the course of the evening,
'I wished I could have invented some excuse to leave.'
- What did you say? - The routes, fascinating. John Ogilby.
- Across the heathland? - No, it wasn't.
It wasn't just the heathland. It was all over the county.
I say, are you feeling all right?
Yes, sorry. Luis! Luis, some more wine for our guest.
¡Eh!
¿Qué te pasa?
CáImate. ¿Qué te pasa? ¡Escucha!
¿Qué te pasa? CáImate.
Estás Ilamando la atención.
- Viene alguien. - (Doorbell)
Are we expecting company?
I would like a drink of that, if it's possible.
He made no remark as to the contents of the note?
None.
But from that moment he gave up all pretence at conversation.
He just sat there, smoking these endless cigarettes.
About eleven, I was glad to go to bed.
'Two hours later, he looked in at my door.'
- Did you ring? - Did I ring?
Ah. Please don't wake up, it is nearly one o'clock.
Please go back to sleep. Good night.
'And now I come to the amazing part of my tale.'
(Groans and coughs)
'When I woke, it was broad daylight.
'Nearly nine. I had particularly asked to be called at eight,
'so I was very much astonished at this forgetfulness.'
I say, is anybody here? I'd like some hot water.
'I rang for the servant. There was no response.'
Somebody?
I say, is there a servant available?
Oh, this is damnable.
'I went from room to room. All were deserted.
'Even my host's room. The bed had never been slept in.'
The foreign host, foreign footman, foreign cook, all vanished in the night?
Your experience is, so far as I know, perfectly unique.
Now, what else can you tell me?
Well... I was furious.
I packed my bags, I banged the front door behind me and I set out for Esher.
And then I... I called at Allan Brothers, the land agents,
and found it was from them that the villa had been rented.
- Rented? - Well, you see...
I couldn't believe they'd gone simply to make a fool of me.
I though, you know, it must be the rent, but I was wrong.
You see, the agent thanked me for my warning
but said that the rent was paid in advance.
By the Spanish embassy, I imagine?
I called at the Spanish embassy.
The man is unknown to them.
I also asked my friend who introduced us
and he seemed to know less about Garcia than I did.
This house.
Wisteria Lodge.
I wonder if it is still as you left it.
What's troubling you, Watson?
I fear some mundane explanation for events may await us upon our arrival.
We can thank fate which has rescued us
for a few hours from the insufferable fatigues of idleness.
This gentleman recommends The Bull in the village if we're to stay overnight.
I asked him if he knew Garcia or his servants.
- Did he? - No.
Nothing unusual about the outside. Let's see what the interior holds for us.
I don't suppose we can be charged with housebreaking?
Who on earth could leave such a mess?
Yes. Who indeed?
Glance around the house, Watson.
Mr Holmes?
Welcome to Wisteria Lodge, Mr Holmes.
Inspector Baynes, of the Surrey Constabulary.
And this is Constable Downing.
And you are Mr John Scott Eccles of Popham House, Leigh?
I am.
Mr Scott Eccles, we've been following you about all morning.
You traced him through his telegram, I presume?
Exactly, Mr Holmes.
We picked up the scent at Charing Cross Post Office.
But what do you want? Why do you follow me?
We wish a statement, Mr Scott Eccles,
as to the events which led up the death of Mr Aloysius Garcia,
of Wisteria Lodge, near Esher.
- Dead, did you say? - Oh, yes, sir, he is dead, yes.
But how? An accident?
Murder, sir, if ever there was one on earth.
Oh, God. But this is awful.
But you don't mean that I'm suspected?
Well, sir, your note was found on the dead man's body
and from it we learned that you planned to stay here in this house last night.
So I did.
Oh, you did, did you?
Wait. Baynes, surely all you need is a simple statement.
Yes, Mr Holmes,
but it is my duty to warn Mr Scott Eccles that it may be used against him.
Hm.
Ah! This is my friend and colleague, Dr Watson, Inspector Baynes.
Doctor, your attention.
Mr Scott Eccles, you look as if you could do with a drink.
- I found some brandy in the library. - Yes... Oh... Thank you...
El perro está manchando tu vestido blanco.
No me importa.
I can assure you, Inspector, that every word I've said, it is the truth.
I'm bound to say, Mr Scott Eccles, that everything you've said
does agree with the facts as they've come to our notice.
For example, the note that arrived during dinner.
Mr Scott Eccles, what became of the note?
Garcia rolled it up and threw it in the fire.
What do you say to that, Mr Baynes?
It was a dog grate, Mr Holmes, he overpitched it.
I found this unburned at the back.
You must have made a very careful examination of the house
to find a single pellet of paper.
Oh, I did, Mr Holmes, I did.
It's my way.
The note's written on ordinary cream laid paper with a watermark.
It's a quarter-sheet.
The paper's cut off in two snips with short-bladed scissors.
It's been folded twice and sealed with scarlet wax.
It's addressed to Mr Garcia, Wisteria Lodge.
And it says...
"Our own colours, green and white.
"Green open, white shut.
"Main stairs, first corridor.
"Seventh right, green baize.
"Godspeed.
"D."
It's in a woman's writing, done with a very sharp-pointed pen,
but the address is either done with a different pen or by someone else.
Because it's thicker and bolder, as you may see, Mr Holmes.
It's a remarkable note.
I really must congratulate you on your attention to detail.
There are a few trifling points which might perhaps be added.
The seal is a sleeve-link. What else is of such a shape?
The scissors were bent nail scissors.
Short as the two snips are, you can distinctly see the slight curve in each.
Oh-ho-ho.
I thought I'd squeezed it dry, Mr Holmes.
But I see there was some still left over, after all.
I'm bound to say that I make nothing of the note
except that something's on hand
and a woman, as usual, is at the bottom of it.
I'm very glad you found the note, Inspector,
because it corroborates my story but I do beg to point out
that I haven't yet heard what has happened to Mr Garcia
or what has become of his household.
As for Mr Garcia, that's easily answered. Yes.
He was found dead on Oxshott Common this morning.
His head had been beaten to a pulp by a sandbag or some such object.
Crushed rather than wounded.
Apparently, he'd been first struck down from behind
but his assailant went on beating him long after he was dead.
It was a very furious assault.
Ah! This activity that we saw as we approached the house,
were there any clues as to the criminal?
None. As yet.
- Had Garcia been robbed? - No, no sign of robbery, no.
Our tenants seem to have left little or nothing behind them.
Apart from the clothes, some pipes, a few novels, two of them in Spanish.
Ah!
One of them is missing.
Yes. We might assume the G stands for Garcia.
Family heirloom, perhaps?
The other was not on the body, nor has it been found in the vicinity.
My men are still looking. Do you wish to look round the house?
- A brief look. - I'll show you my room, if you wish.
Holmes...
Holmes!
(Laughter)
Watson!
- What have you seen? - Could've been the devil, for all I know.
Staring eyes at the window.
Negroid features, mulatto-like. He's got away across the fields.
Just as well. I don't think I could have laid hands on him.
Ah, look at this.
If he is all the same scale as his foot, then he is certainly a giant.
Well, whoever he was and whatever he wanted,
he's gone for the present and we have more important things to attend to.
Downing, you stay here. And you, sir, shall come to the station with me.
- Let me have a written statement. - (Scott Eccles) I'll come at once.
(Holmes) You don't mind me collaborating?
(Baynes) Highly honoured, Mr Holmes, highly honoured.
(Holmes) Inspector, is there any clue as to the exact hour of the man's death?
One o'clock.
It rained about that time and the death certainly occurred before the rain.
No! No, no. That is perfectly impossible, Mr Baynes.
No, no. His voice is very unmistakable.
I could swear to it that it was he who addressed me
in my room at that very hour.
He spoke to me in that funny accent of his.
He said, "Is nearly one o'clock."
Remarkable, but we must not confuse the unlikely with the impossible.
(Baynes laughs)
(Scott Eccles) What does he mean by that?
Certainly some strange people occupied that house, Mr Holmes.
One of them is dead.
Did some of his companions follow him and murder him?
If so, we should have them, for every port is watched.
But my views are different, Mr Holmes.
Yes, sir, my views are very different.
- Do you have a theory? - And I'll work it myself, Mr Holmes.
Your name is already made, I have yet to make mine.
I should like to be able to say afterwards that I solved it without your help.
Then follow your path and I will follow mine. Goodbye, Mr Scott Eccles.
- Goodbye, Mr Holmes. - Mr Scott Eccles.
Let us consider the note. Is there a woman involved? A jealous husband?
"Godspeed." "Godspeed, D." Now, that must be our guide.
(Watson) 'The man was a Spaniard. I suggest that D stands for Dolores.
'It's a common female name in Spain.'
(Holmes) 'Ha! A Spaniard would write to a Spaniard in Spanish, Watson.'
(Whispers)
(Laughter)
Siéntante.
- ¿Qué le pasa? - No se siente muy bien.
Silencio, niñas.
"Henderson, High Gable."
Mr Holmes.
Look what I've found. In a gorse bush.
Excellent.
Aaah!
Aah! Aah! Oh, my Lord!
I'm terribly sorry, I seem to have... Aah!
- Niñas ¿qué hacéis? - Estamos...
- Sí, sí, sí. - Mientras jugábamos...
Váyanse a jugar. ¿Por qué Io dejasteis entrar? ¿Qué pasa aquí, señor?
Señor, you are trespassing.
- I have lost my direction. - Is it your custom?
Ah! Dr Wakefield! My friend and fellow cartographer.
Yes, indeed.
We were so engrossed in trying to trace the bridle path
to the now-vanished hamlet of Ogmore St Mary that we mislaid each other.
Since we were late for Mr Henderson... I'm so glad you found your way here.
I very much regret that Mr Henderson is too busy to see you today.
No, Lucas, I will see them.
Gentlemen.
Um...
The purpose of our visit is to enquire into the history of High Gable
which, we believe, has an intriguing and bloodthirsty past
since the days of the English Civil War.
I would have no knowledge of that.
- I'm only a recent invader. - Ah!
But there are local records in the library.
There are no records of any past violence in this house.
I see.
Then I will detain you no more. Good day.
- I thought you were in London. - For the morning only.
With your usual reluctance to confide your thoughts,
I exercised my own mind in the matter.
You'd circled two names on your list, Henderson and High Gable.
Well, the others are prosaic, respectable people, far aloof from romance.
But this man Henderson, he's a very singular creation.
Yes, indeed.
As you may have noticed - no tea for me - the house is double-winged.
One side, the servants, the other side, the family.
There is one single connecting door for the Henderson family meals.
You couldn't observe that in the time we were there?
No better instrument for gossip than discharged servants.
I was lucky enough to find one who had been sacked by his imperious master,
Henderson, in a fit of violent temper.
Now, the Henderson girls, whom you encountered, have a governess,
a Miss Burnet, an Englishwoman.
Here is a very singular fact.
She has not been seen since the night of the murder. She has utterly vanished.
I've seen her.
Of course! I've seen her and she is alive.
I saw her at the window at High Gable.
My God, a prisoner.
She slipped my mind the moment those awful Gorgons descended upon me.
She is alive, I've seen her.
That's the man I saw and chased.
Baynes has arrested the wrong man.
Come, Watson, quickly, we must stop him.
(Groans)
(Screams)
- Is he the murderer? - Did he kill the Spaniard?
Where did you capture him?
This man is the murdered man's cook
who disappeared on the night of the crime.
We believe there were valuables left in the house
and that their abstraction was the motive.
The man had been seen in the vicinity of the house once before.
The second time...
Subdue him, Higgins, Blenkinsop.
The second time, we left an ambuscade for him.
We shall be applying for remand when he is brought before the magistrates.
That will be all for now, gentlemen. Thank you very much.
(Clamour)
Baynes, I am not convinced that you are on the right lines.
Mr Holmes doesn't want you to commit yourself unless you're sure.
Oh, you're very kind, gentlemen.
But we did agree to work on our own lines, didn't we?
And that's what I'm doing.
You're welcome always to my news.
This fellow's as strong as a carthorse and fierce as the devil.
He nearly bit off Downing's thumb before they managed to master him.
He speaks hardly any English and we can get nothing out of him but grunts.
And you think that you have evidence that he murdered his late master?
I didn't say so, Mr Holmes.
I didn't say so.
We all have our own little ways.
You will go yours and I will go mine. That was the agreement.
So be it.
I think Baynes is riding for a fall.
I'd have to agree with you there.
You appreciate our difficulty, Watson.
There is nothing upon which we can apply for a warrant.
And with our worthy inspector making his arrest,
our theory would seem fantastic if laid before a magistrate.
Yet you think the lady is in danger of her life?
Yes, I am sure of it, Watson.
Therefore, we must take the law into our own hands.
Top left bay.
We could reach it from that outhouse.
Now.
They're making for the station. The five o'clock to London.
Right.
(Train whistle)
Dámela.
Stop the train! Stop the train! Stop it!
Why, Mr Holmes, you have given me the very evidence I wanted.
We were both on the same scent from the start.
You were after Henderson too?
When you first and then Dr Watson here came
crawling through the undergrowth at High Gable,
I was up a tree observing you both.
It was just a question of who got the evidence first.
Why did you arrest the mulatto?
I was sure that Henderson, as he calls himself, felt he was suspected,
and he would make no move so long as he thought he was in danger,
so I arrested the wrong man.
(Laughter)
You will rise high in your profession, Inspector.
- You have instinct and intuition. - Thank you, Mr Holmes.
But we can't arrest without Miss Burnet's evidence, can we?
She'll be able to give you that in a moment.
Tell me, who is this man Henderson?
He is Don Murillo, known as the Tiger of San Pedro.
One of the most dangerous men out of Central America.
Oh, indeed. A most lewd and bloodthirsty tyrant.
Who imposed his odious vices upon a cowering people for almost 12 years.
Was it the San Pedro colours, green and white, that first put you onto it?
That and my visit to London to the embassy and the Foreign Office.
But, please, this is your case, Inspector.
Five years ago, there was a rising against the tyrant
but it was an empty palace they stormed.
Don Murillo, his secretary, two children and all the wealth had escaped by ship.
From that moment, they disappeared from the face of the earth.
His identity has been a subject
of constant comment in the European press.
We discovered him a year ago.
Miss Burnet.
How came you into this matter, Miss Burnet?
An English lady in such a murderous affair?
Because there is no other way in the world by which justice can be gained.
What does the law of England care
about rivers of blood shed so many years ago in San Pedro?
Or the shipload of treasure that this man has stolen from us?
To you, they are like crimes committed in some other planet.
We know.
My real name is Señora de Víctor Durando.
My husband was the minister of San Pedro in London.
He met and married me there.
A nobler man never lived upon the earth.
Unhappily,
Murillo heard of his excellence...
and recalled him on some pretext...
and shot him.
By a stroke of premonition, my husband had refused to take me with him.
'Then came the downfall of the monster.
'He escaped as you have described.
'But the many whose lives he had ruined,
'whose loved ones suffered torture and death, would not let the matter rest.
'We banded ourselves into a society
'which would never be dissolved until the work was done.
'It was my part to attach myself to his household
'and keep the others in touch with his movements.
'I secured the position as governess.'
Dejadlas. Son la luz de mis ojos.
'He little knew that the woman who faced him at every meal
'was the woman whose husband he had hurried to eternity.
'I smiled on him, did my duty to his children and bided my time.
'An attempt was made in Paris and failed.'
We zigzagged here and there swiftly over Europe to throw off our pursuers
and finally returned to High Gable.
Garcia had been waiting for nearly a year with two trusty companions,
all fired with the same reasons of revenge.
Who was Garcia?
The son of Fernando Garcia,
one of the former highest dignitaries of San Pedro
who was murdered
like your husband.
This note you sent, you say it was intercepted?
'During the day, Murillo took every precaution
'and never went out, save with his satellite Lucas.
'Even at night, the man was for ever on the alert
'and continually changed his room.
'We had arranged that I would send Garcia final instructions.
'The doors would be open and the signal of a green or white light in a window
'which faced the drive was to give notice if all was safe
'or if the attempt had better be postponed.'
- To whom are you writing this letter? - (Yells)
Which describes, it would seem, the room in which I intend to sleep tonight?
- (Groans) - Who is your confederate?
- (Yells) - Who is your confederate?
What is your real name, Miss Burnet?
My name is Durando.
Durando's widow?
In my house, looking after my children?
Traidora.
En esta casa no podrás escapar de las consecuencias.
You can kill me now. What is my life worth?
You have destroyed everything that I love.
Who were you writing to?
Tell me, Señora Durando. Who?
It's a name you fear. He's waiting for you.
Garcia?
It's Garcia.
Garcia...
¿Dónde?
Wisteria Lodge. He is waiting to despatch you to hell, you fiends.
I knew the boy well. His father was once my dearest friend.
- You murdered him! - He betrayed me.
And so did your husband.
(Luis laughs)
And now they send their wives and sons. Will you never learn?
I am indestructible.
(Luis laughs)
'At first, they were of a mind to let him enter the house
'and kill him as a detected burglar.
'But they feared the inquiry might publicly expose them.'
- Uno para todos... - (AIl) Todos para uno.
Garcia.
Some day justice will come.
That is as certain as the rise of tomorrow's sun.
I have no doubt that my life too hung in the balance.
For most of the time, I was confined to my room,
terrorised by the most horrible threats to break my spirit.
Occasionally, I was allowed out but only when they had first drugged my food.
It was in this state that you found me at the station.
And thanks to this good man...
I am beyond their power for ever.
Well, Inspector. Our police work is done but our legal work begins.
Exactly, Mr Holmes, yes.
Garcia's death, in the hands of a plausible lawyer,
could look like an act of self-defence.
I think better of the law than that.
Self-defence is one thing but to entice a man in cold blood
with the object of murdering him is another, whatever danger you fear.
I think we shall see justice done.
- Of course you released the mulatto. - Yes, sir, he is a free man again.
And your man is with the fugitives on the train?
I've wired Scotland Yard to have their men at Waterloo station to receive them.
I really must congratulate you, Inspector.
Your powers, if I may say so, no offence, are superior to your opportunities.
You're right, Mr Holmes.
In the provinces, we stagnate.
A case like this gives a man a chance.