I won't forget that morning,
not if I live to be 100.
I counted the men as they marched out of the Yard.
They'd hardly slept for weeks.
We at the CID had slept even less,
for the nightmare that kept us awake
was all the same nightmare.
That's why we weren't surprised
when the Commissioner had asked us up to
the conference room for a bit of a talk.
He would talk to us plenty, we knew that.
It didn't help any to know what was ahead of us.
Must we have that window open, Gregson?
Oh shut it if you want to.
The Chief will be in enough of a temper
without having a ruddy blast down the back of his neck!
Gentlemen, the Commissioner.
Stuffy in here.
Be seated, won't you?
Gentlemen, if you wish to know what able men you are,
read any of the works of popular fiction
that glamorize your achievement
but don't, I beg of you, read the daily papers.
They might give you an inferiority complex.
I hate to mention it,
but we're confronted with a series of
the most atrocious murders since Jack the Ripper.
And in the meantime,
the CID might as well be playing at shove hate me
for all the good we've accomplished.
Now, look
here, here and here.
Each of these red flags scattered through the city
stands for a woman brutally murdered,
a woman's terror,
a woman's death agony.
These are no ordinary crimes.
These are the works of a fiend who kills first
and mutilates afterwards.
A ghoul who hacks off a part of his victim's body
and carries it away with him,
a loathsome souvenir of his butchery.
Three women murdered so far,
and you haven't turned in one clue.
You haven't given me one lead.
Here you sit and wait for news of a fourth victim
with your arms folded.
Well, we hadn't long to wait.
It was down Lamberth Way
where a young woman was hurrying home late last night.
She saw something and stopped.
It was a Constable.
He spoke to her,
and he walked along with her just in case.
He saw her go down the stairway
to the basement lodging where she lived.
I can only surmise what happened after that.
So I put my pride in my pocket
and went to see the man that so often helped out
Inspector Lestrade and myself in the past
Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
If ever a man needed help, I did.
This makes four, Inspector.
Four defenseless women here in the heart of London.
And every one with the right forefinger hacked off.
Not hacked, Inspector Gregson,
cleanly, expertly severed.
The work of a skilled surgeon.
That's our only clue.
Much about the age of my sister's girl.
Is there no way of stopping this, Mr. Holmes?
Yes, there's a way somehow.
A fiend that did this.
I promise, I promise.
We've nothing go on, that's the rotten part of it.
We can't get far without knowing the motive.
Well, at least we know what the motives were not.
It wasn't robbery nor passion, nor vengeance,
because they all came at totally unrelated families.
Steady, Inspector, steady.
I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes.
I don't turn a hair when it's a bloke that can look after himself,
but a little slip of a thing like that.
Yes, it's horrible. Come on, let's get a drink.
- Good evening, Mr. Holmes. - Good evening, Vincent.
Whiskey and soda, please, and a double for my friend here, Inspector Gregson.
Very good, sir.
Make mine Irish.
It's noble to give me a hand on this thing, Mr. Holmes.
Always a pleasure to be of help to Scotland Yard, Inspector.
A little out of my line, looking for a maniac
that murders just for the fun of the hunt.
Or perhaps, just to get a human finger.
In all four cases,
The murderer risks capture,
by stopping to secure a finger.
I wonder what for?
Who knows? He's just a madman.
Perhaps there's a method in his madness.
If we could just trace those missing fingers.
If?
If we could just drain the English Channel,
we might find a penny.
Oh, thank you.
You may keep those, Mr. Holmes.
Thank you.
Sir George Fenwick, isn't it?
Yes.
Is that his daughter with him?
Don't be so naive, Inspector.
You know everyone, don't you, darling?
Well, hardly.
A week ago, I didn't know you.
A week, how fast it's gone.
I collect these things.
How very quaint of you.
- Shall we go? - Yes.
What are you looking at, Mr. Holmes?
Looking at a very handsome woman.
Not fond of the purple,
but giving an excellent invitation.
Would you like to come to my flat for a nightcap?
- Lovely idea. - Yes, isn't it?
I wonder where she's taking Sir George Fenwick?
Don't be so naive, Mr. Holmes.
- Good evening, ma'am. - Hello, Crandon.
- Any messages? - No, ma'am.
Thank you.
Uh, drinks, Crandon one of your nice surprises.
Yes, ma'am.
I say, you don't mean that...
Crandon's a marvel, aren't you, Crandon?
Yes, ma'am.
You wouldn't believe the things she can do.
Hmm.
Ah, charming place, delightful.
Really, you think so? I'm so glad.
Do sit down.
Do you mind?
Do I mind?
What a question.
I don't mind anything, really,
except not being with you.
Now, you really don't want me to believe that, do you?
- Not too seriously. - Good.
We're both quite grown up, aren't we?
Quite.
You're a treasure, Crandon.
And lower the lights a little as you leave.
I prefer a more flattering light.
In any light, you'd be...
Would I?
And don't you know it.
Perhaps I do.
Oh, that priceless woman.
You wouldn't believe it, but she's absurdly romantic.
She loves dreamy music, and she thinks that we...
But we do, don't we?
Do we?
Well, it's rather soothing, restful.
Yes.
And we all need rest at times.
Like tired children who played too long.
You've played with wooden soldiers, I suppose?
Funny, hadn't thought of that for years.
Toy boats were my special joy.
Anything I could set afloat anywhere.
Like this, and this.
Toy boats sailing into the never-never land,
the land of beautiful dreams.
Look.
Look odd, isn't it, how the light is reflected.
Little specks of light that move and move,
like stars on a slowly-moving stream.
- You know Holmes I'm very sensitive to atmosphere. - Oh?
Yes, I can tell by the feel of this room
there's been a murder committed here.
It may interest you to know, my dear fellow,
it was at the other side of that door
at the foot of the stairs that the poor girl was murdered.
If only I could find it.
Find what?
The one thing these unfortunate victims have in common
that might give us a motive for these murders.
There must be something.
Another Jack the Ripper, if you ask me
a homicidal maniac.
No, Watson, in the case of Jack the Ripper,
there was one thing in common.
His victims were all from one walk of life,
living in the same section of the city.
In this case, the murderer chooses his victims
from all walks of life and from different sections of the city.
No, my dear fellow,
this is not the work of a homicidal maniac.
It's something infinitely more sinister.
You're giving me the creeps.
What on earth are you talking about?
Watson, I'm convinced
that these murders are only incidental
to some larger and more diabolical scheme.
That may be, but why the severed fingers?
The answer to that question, my dear fellow,
is our only hope of solving these mysteries.
"Dear Sister, I am so happy"
I had such a lovely Holiday at Brighton with you and Alph,
"and I'm looking forward to being with you again."
Poor little thing.
Sort of raises a lump in your throat.
I can picture her sitting here happily writing this letter
and not a bit realizing that she's shortly going to her death.
Hello.
Gregson.
Oh, there you are, Mr. Holmes,
- I've been looking for you everywhere. - What's happened?
Murder in Edgware Road, not half an hour ago.
- Woman? - Yes,
and the right forefinger cut off clean.
Paper, morning paper.
Paper, horrible murder.
Murder in Edgware Road.
Read all about the murder.
Horrible murder of a young woman.
Get your paper.
Horrible murder, paper. All about the murder.
Morning Paper, all about the murder,
Paper, horrible murder.
Another young woman found murdered, paper sir.
Horrible murder, paper, paper, read all about it.
Get your paper.
Murder in the Edgware Road.
Horrible finger murder.
Shocking murder. Murder in Edgware Road.
Horrible murder of a young woman.
Read all about the murder.
On me fancy, ma'am,
there's been another of those horrible murders.
Dear, dear, how shocking.
Yes, ma'am,
I really don't feel quite safe here myself.
Oh, dear.
- Why, Sir George! - I must see Miss Marlow at once.
- I don't know if she's... - I must see her, where is she?
Lydia.
Why, Sir George!
What is it, what happened?
I don't know.
You'll have to help me. You've got to help me!
But I don't understand.
Listen, I woke up a few minutes ago
in a cheap boardinghouse
off Edgware Road.
I don't know how I came there,
I don't know when.
The last thing I remember is being here with you.
Calm yourself, Sir George.
When did I leave here?
Well, it was about, uh, uh...
It was 10:45, ma'am, precisely.
You seemed, forgive me,
just a little bit distressed,
detached, not interested.
I thought I'd said something to offend you.
I don't remember.
I can't remember.
Tell me, has this happened to you before?
Before?
Well, there is such a thing as amnesia, you know?
If it was 10:45 when I left you,
it was 9:00 this morning when I woke,
over ten hours lost.
Ten hours that I can't account for.
And in my pocket when I awoke, I found,
here in my pocket.
That... that isn't...
Oh, it's not for you, of course,
it can't be.
Excuse me, ma'am,
but there's a man asking to see the gentleman.
- Send him away. - Yes, ma'am.
No, no, no, please.
I'll see him.
Well?
Delightful room.
Not much like the place
you woke up in this morning.
- You followed me here? - Yes.
Are you a detective?
Oh, no.
Quite the contrary.
Don't be afraid, Sir George.
You know my name?
Oh, yes.
A very old and highly-honored name.
And being the bearer of such a name,
and also a very wealthy man,
I thought you might care to possess yourself this trifle,
rather than let it fall into the hands of the police.
It's yours, if I'm not mistaken,
the initials G.F.
Where did you get this?
It came out of your pocket.
I saw it fall, but you never noticed.
You were very busy,
bending over something,
with a knife.
Then you put something in your pocket.
Come along, Holmes, come along, come along.
How many more times must I tell you.
You're missing a treat, this is delicious.
Little jam tarts to follow.
Aren't you tempted?
Hmm.
You and your fleshpots.
They tell me that fish is good for the brains.
Brains, I haven't any.
You realize that a day,
a whole day and a night have gone by
since that bestial affair in Edgware Road?
I'm as much in the dark as ever.
Hello, here comes a client
unless I'm very much mistaken.
Well, attractive, very attractive.
Obviously, she left home
under the stress of some very great emotion.
How do you know that?
She isn't wearing any gloves,
a startling omission on a young lady of fashion.
Well, she didn't put her coat on.
Open car, too.
Furthermore, there's something in that bag she wants to show me.
What makes you say that?
The bag doesn't match her dress.
And again, it was picked for size
rather than style
to accommodate some bulky object.
You amaze me Holmes.
Elementary, my dear fellow.
Well, that's interesting.
What is?
That cab,
at the empty house.
I wonder why he's followed her here?
Well, wouldn't you?
Quiet, Watson. Give me the glasses.
Well, we shall soon know.
Yes, Mrs. Hudson?
It's a young lady sir, most urgent.
Ask her to come in.
Go right in, Miss.
- Mr. Holmes? - Yes, this is my friend, Dr. Watson.
- How do you do? - How do you do?
Mr. Holmes, you must excuse me, please, I...
Yes, well, won't you sit down?
- Come along. - May I?
It's quite alright.
Thank you.
Now, try to control yourself, Miss Fenwick, you're with friends.
You know my name?
No magic, I assure you.
I've often seen your picture.
You're the daughter of Sir George Fenwick, aren't you?
Yes.
It's about my father that I...
What about your father, Ms. Fenwick?
Oh, I don't know what to do.
He's always been the nicest, dearest person,
only since Mother died...
Yes, yes, we know.
So I didn't think anything of it
when he was away the night before last.
But he didn't come home until yesterday at teatime.
Didn't come in for dinner at all.
Just paced up and down in the library, hour after hour.
I begged him to let me in, but he wouldn't!
Steady, steady.
Now, take your time.
I couldn't sleep a wink last night.
Then I started hearing things.
Hearing things, what sort of things?
I heard someone in the garden
underneath my window.
Then I saw a figure moving down the garden path.
And I recognized my father,
stealing through his own garden like a thief.
He had a spade in his hand,
and he stopped by the greenhouse where he started to dig.
This morning at daybreak, I strolled on to the garden,
and found this.
A finger,
a human finger.
Ring up Scotland Yard, will you, Watson?
Ask them to get a hold of Inspector Gregson,
and tell him to meet us at once at
Sir George Fenwick's house in Kingston.
Operator?
Give me Scotland Yard, quick!
Where's my father, Norris?
He's still in the library, Miss.
Thank you, we'll see him right away.
- Will you come with me, please? - Thank you.
I got your message, Mr. Holmes.
Yes, indeed.
Dad, may I come in?
Dad?
That's funny.
He doesn't answer.
Do you mind?
- Please do. - Thank you.
Watson, quick!
- Oh, no, no, no, no! - Come along, my dear.
Take charge of Miss Fenwick, please.
Now Miss Fenwich, come along with me.
Dead?
Yes.
What do you make of it, Doctor?
Shot in the back, between the second and third ribs.
The bullet undoubtedly penetrated the heart.
Look at the powder marks on his coat.
I was afraid of this.
What do you mean?
Don't you remember the man in the cab
who followed Miss Fenwick to Baker Street?
Well, you don't think he had anything to do with it, do you?
Well, I think it's reasonable to assume
that he tipped off someone that I've been sent for.
Sir George has obviously been murdered
to keep him from telling me what he knew.
What was the weapon used?
Small caliber revolver,
point-blank range by the look of the wound.
The murderer came in through those French windows.
Look at the mud from the garden he brought in on his boots.
Sir George must have surprised the intruder
and crossed the room to him here.
What follows, we can't tell.
But from the location of the wound,
I'd say that he turned his back for a moment,
and as he turned,
the muzzle of the revolver was placed between his ribs
and one muffled shot fired.
And you mean to say he kept on going even after he was shot?
There's no doubt about it. Look there.
A trail of blood leads us back to the desk.
There's something Sir George was after.
Some thing.
I know, he was trying to summon help, poor chap.
I don't think so, Watson.
There's the bell pull by the fireplace.
No, you'll notice from the trail of blood
that Sir George made straight for this desk here.
I wonder...
there was something he was desperately anxious to get.
Hello. His right hand is clenched.
That's perfectly natural. Death agony.
The left hand lies open.
Why only one hand clenched in the death agony?
The right hand, the hand nearest the desk.
Please note that.
If Sir George took something off this desk,
something so important that he spilled his last drop of blood to get it,
I want to know what it is.
It's nothing but an ordinary match folder.
Where does that lead us?
I imagine to something very important, Gregson.
This match folder is from Pembroke House.
Why shouldn't it be?
He was there, you know?
We saw him yesterday.
Yes, but the effort he made after he was shot
to get hold of this match folder.
It's just possible,
he wanted someone to remember Pembroke House.
He may have wished to recall it to someone who saw him there.
Someone who like ourselves,
saw him with a woman.
Come in.
Oh, Dr. Watson,
this came by hand for Mr. Holmes
not ten minutes ago.
Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.
That would be the report from Sir George's bank.
Report from... Oh, really?
Don't you remember his daughter told us
that he just closed his account?
Had it looked into at once.
He drew out his entire balance in cash,
nearly 10,000 pounds, yesterday,
just after that young woman was murdered.
What does that suggest to you, Watson?
- That he paid it out to someone. - Precisely.
I smell the faint, sweet odor of blackmail.
You don't think he paid it out to someone
who saw him murder the McLean woman?
Sir George never murdered anyone.
But he did have that woman's finger,
evidently, he did have to pay out a lot of cash.
That's the terrifying part about blackmail, Watson.
The victim is afraid to fight the accusation no matter how false.
Once the accusation is made,
the name is smeared,
and sometimes his life is ruined.
Well, if Sir George didn't commit these murders,
what fiend did?
I rather think they're not the work of any one man.
Oh, come Holmes, you don't expect me to believe
there's a whole organization going about killing people
and chopping off their fingers?
Well, it's possible, quite possible.
Well, whoever's behind all this thing must be out of his mind.
On the contrary, my dear fellow.
If my assumptions are correct,
this little scheme has behind it
the most brilliant and ruthless intellect the world has ever known.
You don't mean Professor Moriarity?
I do.
Oh, steady, Holmes, you've got him on the brain.
This is the third time in as many months
you've suspected him of unsolved crimes.
- He's dead, you know? - Is he?
"Is he?" You know he is.
He was hanged in Montevido well over a year ago.
I heard that someone was hanged in Montevido under that name,
but I'll stake my reputation
that Moriarity is alive
and here, now, in London.
Hello?
Yes, Dr. Watson, wait a minute.
Who, me?
Well, yes.
This is Dr. Watson speaking.
No, no, I'm afraid I've retired,
I don't practice anymore.
What?
Oh, that's a different thing.
An emergency case.
Where? Just a minute.
Yes. Yes, well, see that she's not moved.
Remember that.
Don't touch her 'til I get there.
Fracture case in McArthur Mews.
Heavy woman.
14 stone.
Look at all this dust.
14 stone.
Just the sort of person who wouldn't hoist herself up on a stool
to feed the canary.
There ought to be a law against fat people
keeping little dickey birds.
So long, old man, I shan't be very long.
Haven't used that bag
since I brought little Amelia Watson into the world.
She grew up to be a very unattractive child.
Huh, who wouldn't with a name like Amelia. Amelia, huh.
Oh, Professor Moriarity.
Not that I wish to appear inquisitive,
but to what am I indebted to the pleasure of this visit?
Scotland Yard will be interested.
It's very convenient for me to have Scotland Yard think
that I am still dead in Montevideo.
I never dreamed of fooling you.
Thank you.
The thought occurs to me, Mr. Holmes,
that there are some advantages
in living within the law.
You are very comfortably fixed here, aren't you?
As I get on in life,
the little comforts
appeal to me more and more.
Oh, I beg your pardon, won't you sit down?
Thank you.
And now, Professor Moriarity, what can I do for you?
Everything that I have to say to you
has already crossed your mind.
And my answer has no doubt crossed yours?
That's final?
What do you think?
I shall not rest until you are hanged for the finger murders.
You've no proof, you know?
No, not a shred,
but I have you.
I could turn you over to the police, here and now.
You could.
But if you did,
you'd never see Dr. Watson again.
Oh, the telephone call?
Quite.
I rather assumed you had taken some such precaution.
Or, I should have snatched up a revolver
and indulged in a fit of heroics when you came in.
Very smart, aren't you?
Not smart enough,
or I should have anticipated you.
But, if any harm comes to Dr. Watson,
I shall seek you out.
I shall not rest until I find you,
and when I do...
No harm will come to Dr. Watson this time,
but I can't answer for the future.
Mr. Holmes, I should strongly advise you to drop this case.
Don't be silly.
Think it over.
We've had many encounters in the past.
You hope to place me on the gallows.
I tell you, I shall never stand up on the gallows.
But if you are instrumental in any way
in bringing about my destruction,
you will not be alive to enjoy your satisfaction.
And we shall walk together through the gates of eternity hand-in-hand.
- What a charming picture that would make. - Yes, wouldn't it?
And I really think it might be worth it.
Shoelaces Governor, Two pence a pair.
And strong enough to hang yourself.
How many more times must I tell you,
I don't want your filthy shoelaces or your company.
- Shoelaces, Governor? - Blasted impertinence.
Run along my good man, or I'll give you a charge.
Shoelaces, Governor?
Help a poor bloke what's only got one arm?
Any luck with Mr. Holmes?
You can read his obituary in tomorrow's papers.
Oh, there you are, Watson, come in.
I was just going out to look for you.
Look for me, what for?
I suppose you don't think I know my way about.
Well, you're right, I don't.
Blast all practical jokers, anyhow.
Know where I've been?
- On a wild goose chase. - Exactly.
There's no such number in McArthur's Mews.
Some fool's idea of a joke.
Did you ah...
Did you see anyone?
No, nobody special.
Only a whining old idiot selling bootlaces.
Persistent beggar, wasn't he?
Stuck to you like grim death.
How do you know?
And finally left you for someone that looked like better pickings.
Someone, my dear Watson,
- was Professor Moriarity himself. - What?
He just called on me.
Moriarity here, and you let him go?
But you must be out of your mind.
Why?
Well, he bluffed me into believing
that he was holding a friend of mine as hostage.
Friend of yours, who?
Oh, nobody very important, just a fat, lazy fellow.
Medical man, I believe.
Medical man, do I know him?
Ah, yes, I think you do.
Fellow by the name of Watson.
Watson, Watson, never heard...
Who, me?
I'm afraid so, old fellow.
Your street hawker's job
was to do away with you
under a certain contingency.
And you let Moriarity go because of me?
I had no choice.
I can't afford to lose you, old fellow.
Well, that's very decent of you, old chap, I must say.
But I wish you'd nabbed him.
We shall, never fear.
I know the motive for the finger murders.
All I have to find out now is the method used for the blackmail victims.
Method?
Yes.
How does Moriarity get them to the scene of the crime?
How does he plant those severed fingers on them?
And how does he scare them into believing that
they may have committed those atrocious murders themselves?
Curious.
Very curious.
Curious, what's curious?
That window in the empty house across the street,
first floor front.
Oh, what's wrong with it?
It's open.
Why shouldn't it be open?
It wasn't open half an hour ago,
I'll stake my life on that.
Oh? It's not our business.
Let it stay open.
I wonder if you'd go over, old fellow,
and see what's the matter.
Trespassing, against the law.
Very well, I'll go myself.
Well, if you're going to put it like that.
Ridiculous waste of time,
going about shutting windows at this hour of the night.
Here, you better take this torch.
Huh? Take what...
Hmm, dignified job for a doctor.
Dr. Watson, the torchbearer!
And what do you propose to do,
sit in a comfortable chair, I suppose, and read a good book?
- That's a very good idea. - Yes, a very good idea.
While I play night watchman, you have a nice read.
Good night, have a good time.
Have a good time...
I say.
What on earth is this for?
Oh, umbrella stand.
Pretty little thing to keep about the house.
Must have been a pet.
What was that?
Rat probably.
While he sits comfortably reading a book, humph.
Drop it!
He killed Holmes! He killed Sherlock...
Watson.
You?
But I saw him shoot you a second ago!
Not me, my dear fellow.
Merely the bust of Julius Caesar.
Incidentally, you may have noticed that all through the ages,
prominent men have prominent noses. Shh.
Oh, I'm afraid we're in for terrible trouble
again with Mrs. Hudson
window smashed, plaster all over the floor.
Get up, you.
Corporal Williams, Middlesex Regiment.
Discharged from the Army as physically unfit.
Hmm, papers seem in order.
Now, Corporal Williams,
you've seen service in the Far East, haven't you?
The East.
I thought so.
Look at his complexion, Watson. Yellow saffron.
He's been taking atabrine,
a cure for malaria.
Sniper, aren't you?
Sniper.
Hmm.
Why did you try to kill me?
I had to kill him.
I had to.
- Oh, snap out of it! - Stop it, Watson.
- He's shamming. - No, he isn't.
Who told you to kill me?
She told me.
She told you?
She told me I couldn't miss.
Well, luckily you did miss, you murderer.
He isn't a murderer, Watson.
Listen, Corporal Williams.
She told you you had to do it, didn't she?
I had to do it.
I've got it, Watson, I've got it!
Got what?
The method used in the finger murders.
Well, what is it?
Hypnotism, my dear fellow, hypnotism.
And it wasn't against his nature,
that's the devilish part of it.
They picked a man for that purpose
whose job was sniping.
Who are they?
Professor Moriarity and his finger murderers.
Williams spoke of a woman.
I think you'll find that she asked him home tonight for a drink.
Nice, quiet rooms,
soft lights, music.
You've got it all packed, Mr. Holmes.
What's the lady look like?
About 30, nice figure, blond, lustrous eyes.
Oh, really? Got her phone number?
Oh. Oh, sorry.
Williams will give us her address.
Look after him, Gregson.
Don't let anyone come near him.
He's our key witness in the finger murders.
Well, I hope you're guessing right, Mr. Holmes.
Get up, Williams.
Now, go with Inspector Gregson anywhere he tells you.
Come on.
Ring me as soon as he comes to himself, will you?
I will.
- Good night, gentlemen. - Good night.
Well, if you believe that fellow Williams was hypnotized,
I suppose you think Sir George Fenwick was hypnotized, too?
I'm quite sure of it. Have a cup of tea?
Thanks, old boy, nothing to eat?
But why didn't these people make Sir George do the murder himself?
Because they didn't want to get him hanged.
They wanted to blackmail him.
Well, who do you think the actual murderer is?
One of Moriarity's gang.
A diabolically simple technique.
Kill a woman.
Yes, yes, yes, but why cut off the fingers?
My dear fellow, don't you understand?
The severed finger is what links the blackmail victim to the murder.
He wakes,
finds the grizzly thing in his pocket,
doesn't know how it got there.
He has no idea that he's been hypnotized.
For all he knows,
he may have committed the atrocious crime
during some dreadful lapse of sanity.
In that state when he's utterly demoralized,
the blackmailers take over, is that it?
Undoubtedly. You see,
they swear that they saw him commit the murder.
And being human, the victim will pay anything
rather than stand trial on a charge
that will make his very name loathsome.
Well, it all fits in
if you believe in hypnotism.
The only possible explanation.
And you think the hypnotist is that
woman with the blond hair, the lustrous eyes,
the woman you invented.
I didn't invent her, I saw her.
What on earth are you talking about?
That woman, my dear Watson,
was with Sir George when he left Pembroke House.
I saw her there.
I shall see her again,
and Williams will lead me to her.
That's why it's so important to keep him safe.
He will identify her.
Hello?
Yes, Inspector Gregson.
What?
Well, get every constable in the District.
Yes, I'll be over at once.
- What's happened, Holmes? - Williams is missing.
- Great Scott! - Come on.
A lorry crashed into Gregson's car
during the confusion, Williams disappeared.
- Escaped, huh? - No, kidnapped,
to keep him from talking when he came to.
You don't think that Moriarity...
With Moriarity, anything is possible.
Williams!
Dead.
You see, anything is possible.
Oh. Good morning, Professor Moriarity.
You startled me.
I'm dressing another dolly,
a dear little nurse.
Is there anything wrong with your finger?
Just a splinter.
Nasty things splinters,
most trying.
One can't be too careful,
but I'll get it out for you.
I have the very instrument to help you.
Sharp enough to split a hair.
Put those tools away until they're needed.
But they're not tools, sir, they're instruments.
Put them away.
Is Lydia in?
Yes.
But really, you should let me.
Get dressed.
Holmes and Watson just left Baker Street for the Mesmer Club.
Mesmer Club?
The meeting place of all the top hypnotists in London.
Do you suppose that Mr. Holmes is on to our method?
If he suspects,
it's merely a suspicion.
It's our business to see that it ends there.
I hope you're right.
Williams passed away before he could talk, remember?
What do you want me to do?
Go to the Mesmer Club, meet Holmes,
and induce him to come back here.
Isn't that a bit dangerous?
Every meeting with Sherlock Holmes is potentially dangerous.
However, you say he didn't see your face at Pembroke House.
And how would you suggest I get Mr. Holmes to accompany me here?
Kidnap him?
Oh, no.
Holmes has one weakness, his insatiable curiosity.
If you can arouse that, you can lead him anywhere.
It's up to you to take advantage
of any opportunity that may arise.
This way, please, gentlemen.
I'll tell Dr. Onslow that you're here.
Thank you.
So this is the Mesmer Club?
If you ask me, hypnotism is a lot of mumbo-jumbo.
Oh, come now Watson, as a medical man,
you must admit that hypnotism has its place in modern science?
That may be, but 90 percent of hypnotists
are crooks of the worse kind.
Nothing more than a lot of charlatans
exploiting weak-willed morons.
Ah, Dr. Onslow, I believe.
Happy to meet you, Mr. Holmes.
Your brother, Mycroft, suggested I might be of help to you.
He's a valued member of our little group of charlatans and crooks.
I beg your pardon, sir.
I didn't know you were listening. Behind the curtain
- My friend, Dr. Watson. - Ah, delighted.
- How do you do? - I wonder now,
you see, we're in the midst of a little experimental session
at this very moment, if you'd care to join us.
- Oh, certainly, certainly. - Might be very instructive.
Oh, well, will you follow me?
Thank you.
in treating his patients.
But today, the therapeutic value of hypnotism,
as we now call it,
is conceded by numerable physicians.
Especially of value in surgical cases
where the administration of local or of general anesthetic is inadvisable.
Inadvisable, poppycock! Oh, sorry.
For the sake of latecomers,
I may say that I have placed this subject
under profound hypnosis.
In this condition, he can feel no pain,
even under applications which normally would be excruciating.
Excruciating!
Will you excuse me, please.
Carter, you are having a peaceful sleep,
you feel nothing.
Your arms and your hands are without sensation.
Mobrey, the long needle.
Carter, give me your right hand.
As you observe, the needle has been thrust
completely through the subject's hand.
No feeling, no pain.
This lack of feeling is the one infallible test
of profound hypnosis.
Nonsense. Fellow's full of drugs.
Well, isn't he?
Definitely not, Doctor.
Wake up, Carter, wake up.
You'll feel well and rested, remember,
no pain anywhere.
Wake up, wake up.
I say, when are you going to begin?
All through, Carter, stand up.
This way, sir.
And, uh, are these all the people that come here?
Oh, no, no.
Others keep dropping in all the time.
I suppose it's all right for those who believe in it but,
of course, I'm a professional man myself.
Then you don't believe in hypnotism, Dr. Watson?
Oh, I don't deny that there's certain types
of hysterical feeble-minded people,
who'll go under if you point your finger at them.
But anyone with an ounce of character.
How right you are.
You see right through our little artifices, don't you, doctor?
Right through, my dear sir, right through.
Quite so.
But with the feeble-minded, as you say.
- Excuse us, Mr. Holmes. - Oh, certainly.
Step over here won't you?
Certainly, anything to oblige.
Let me show you how easily
we charlatans take advantage of them.
Now, sit down, Doctor.
Now, we set a thing like this in motion.
It's wonderful, the attraction,
on the feeble-minded, of course.
The continuous motion,
if they just let themselves follow it.
Of course, you could stare at it
'til Doomsday, Dr. Watson,
with no effect at all.
Still, it might make you a little drowsy,
like the white ribbon of road at night
when you're driving.
The rhythm is smooth,
unbroken,
and the road goes on and on
round and round,
always the same, winding and winding.
And you're drowsy,
you're tired.
Let the road come into you as it were.
The long road.
The smooth road.
The road to sleep,
sleep.
Open your eyes.
Stand up.
Turn around.
And now, Dr. Watson,
you're on a Holiday in Scotland.
The country is amazingly beautiful.
We're coming to a stream.
It isn't deep.
Better take your shoes and socks off.
Roll up your trouser.
That will do, the other leg is waterproof.
Turn around.
Mind the pebbles!
Sit down.
Wake up now.
See, what did I tell you. It didn't work with me.
Why, nobody with an ounce of charac...
I think you'll need these.
- Nothing to laugh at. - Watson, she's here!
Who? The woman you're looking for?
Yes, I'm going to meet her.
Perhaps I can induce her to take me to Moriarity.
Do you think that's wise, Holmes?
May not be wise, but it's essential.
After all, I've held my own with Moriarity in the past.
But isn't it dangerous? She might be a hypnotist.
If my will isn't stronger than hers,
I deserve to be hypnotized. Shh!
I feel I must protest, Dr. Onslow.
I was told this was a gathering of serious students of a great science,
and I find myself in a company of buffoons.
Oh, my dear...
Elman and Esdaile are brave.
Were those men martyrs for the truth?
But you may laugh over your childish, cruel tricks.
I must say, I'm in complete agreement with you, madam.
This was a most unnecessary performance, Dr. Onslow.
Beg your pardon, sir?
My name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes.
At your service, madam.
Thank you, Mr. Holmes.
I'm afraid I've created a rather embarrassing situation.
But you see, I'm interested in the serious study of hypnotism.
So am I too.
Perhaps we have something in common, Mr. Holmes.
Perhaps we have.
Would you join me for a cocktail at Pembroke House?
I should be delighted.
Good.
Thank you.
I didn't know there was such a pleasant place in London.
It was so nice of you to suggest our coming here.
I thought a little pick-me-up would do us good.
You mean, you thought I looked...
I like the way you look.
Thank you.
I suppose I did lose my head a little at the Mesmer Club.
But you see,
hypnotism is almost a religion with me.
I know so well what it can do to help and heal,
and I can't bear to see it used for trivial purposes.
I know very little about it,
that's why I went to the Mesmer Club.
You see, I'm rather puzzled just now
with a case that I am working on.
How fascinating, Tell me about it.
It's the murder of Sir George Fenwick.
Fenwick?
Who's he?
Quite a well-known figure.
Odd, now I come to think of it.
The last time I saw Sir George
was here at Pembroke House.
Strange.
Yes, isn't it.
He was sitting um,
I believe he was sitting at this very table.
Cigarette?
Thanks, do go on.
There was a charming lady with him.
He was, um,
he was lighting her cigarette.
Charming. Did you see her face?
No,
merely her back.
How unenterprising of you.
Yes, wasn't it.
Afraid I'm getting a little older.
I shouldn't say so.
That's nice of you.
Still, the first time in my life
I've got a hold of a case that's beyond me.
I'm actually losing sleep over it.
You know, Mr. Holmes,
I believe I could help you.
Really? I should be very grateful.
You're amused?
No, merely skeptical.
How would you go about it?
I've used hypnotism more than once in healing.
Not for profit,
I'm not a professional.
But I do think I could help you,
if you'd care to...
I can't think of a pleasanter experience.
Low lights, music, is that all there is to it?
You must relax, Mr. Holmes.
I'm afraid you're a rather difficult subject.
So, I thought perhaps a little help.
Materia medica might be advisable.
Drugs?
No, I'd rather not, if you don't mind?
As a matter of fact, I'd rather not myself.
But Schinknazin he practiced in Munich, you know.
Believed it the best means for difficult subjects.
Do you mind?
Well, as a matter of fact, I don't approve of sedatives.
Just as you wish.
We don't have to go on with this at all, you know?
Wait a minute.
All right. I'll take a chance.
It's really quite harmless.
What is it?
Cannabis Japonica, an Oriental soporific.
You'll need water.
Thank you.
Now sit down, Mr. Holmes.
You'll feel yourself going drowsy.
Don't fight it.
Give in to it.
Because you do want to sleep, you know?
Just fix your eyes on this one white flower,
floating on the water.
Empty your mind of every other thought.
Follow the motion of the water,
so smooth,
not a ripple.
Waters of forgetfulness.
Steady,
deep,
strong.
Strange, isn't it,
how the light is reflected.
Little specks of light that move and move.
It's restful here.
It's peaceful.
It's friendly.
And you're very close to finding what you're looking for.
You'll find them soon now,
the guilty ones,
when you're rested.
Gentle waters closing over you.
Steady,
deep,
strong.
Drawing you down,
down,
down.
Sleep,
sleep,
sleep.
Here he is, Professor Moriarity.
Stand up, Mr. Holmes.
Open your eyes.
Face this way.
Are you satisfied?
We're dealing with a clever man.
He may be shamming.
There's just one infallible test
for profound hypnosis.
You ready, Dr. Simnell?
That will do, Doctor.
He couldn't fake insensibility to the knife.
I congratulate you, Lydia.
Turn around, Mr. Holmes.
Now, walk to the desk.
Sit down.
Take that pen,
and write what I tell you to write.
I've at last found a case which I cannot solve.
I have outlived my usefulness.
Therefore, I have decided to end my life.
Sign your name.
Now, blot it.
Fold it up,
and put it in your pocket.
Come, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Go out onto the terrace.
But it won't look like suicide, sir.
I'm sorry, but Mr. Holmes' injuries
must all be self-inflicted.
Let's walk a little, Mr. Holmes.
It's so pleasant here in the garden.
Just step up here onto the terrace.
It's a nice, broad terrace.
Now, turn to the left
and walk slowly to the end of the terrace.
Don't stop.
You must walk to the end, you know.
The end leads to an open doorway.
You can pass through it in perfect safety.
In the room beyond the doorway,
you'll find what you're looking for.
Must you drag this on?
This is the moment I've been anticipating for a long time, my dear.
Go on, Mr. Holmes.
Through the open doorway you'll find the man
responsible for the finger murders
and the death of Sir George Fenwick.
Professor Moriarity!
Holmes!
Stand still!
What a beautiful view, Watson,
I'm quite enjoying it.
No, you're not. You're hypnotized!
You're under a spell.
Stand still, don't move.
Steady, Holmes, steady does it.
Stand perfectly still where you are.
Nonsense, Watson.
You don't know what you're doing.
Of course I know what I'm doing.
- You mean, you're not hypnotized? - Certainly not.
Then get off the wall, you idiot.
Oh! Oh, God! Holmes!
- Dear fellow. - What were you doing out there?
Holding the fort until you arrived.
What kept you?
Oh, I ran into a spot of trouble
on my way to Scotland Yard.
I was arrested for exceeding the speed limit.
Your luck seems to hold, Mr. Holmes.
Well, I'd hardly call it luck, Professor.
You see, I substituted a drug of my own
for the one that this dear lady pressed on me.
You are clever, aren't you?
A drug that, although it leaves the subject conscious,
it renders him quite insensitive to pain.
That accounted for my lack of reaction to Dr. Simnells' knife.
Well, Gregson, quite an impressive haul.
Even Inspector Lestrade himself
couldn't have done any better.
- Thanks, Mr. Holmes. - Take them away.
All right, put her in the van.
I was right, Mr. Holmes.
You are a difficult subject.
Thank you.
And now, Professor,
our score is settled.
Au revoir until I see you on the gallows.
The rope has not been made that'll go around my neck.
Come on.
Ah!
I'll take care of things, Mr. Holmes.
Thank you, Inspector.
Come on.
An evil man, Holmes, but what a horrible death.
Better than he deserved.
What are you thinking of?
I'm thinking of all the women who can come and go in safety
in the streets of London tonight.
Stars keep watch in their heavens,
and in our own little way, we, too, old friend,
the privilege to watch over our city.