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ÀÚ¸·: Çǵð¹Ú½º ji337
¼öÁ¤ : fithelestre@sanori.net

 

You promised.

 

I promised you nothing.

 

I'm leaving for Rome.

 

Please, please
come with me.

 

I've given up.

 

I have no more to give.

 

Why, why do you
treat me like this?

 

No.

 

Go, go, go, go.

 

Heartless, mean.

 

It was at that
moment that love died

 

and hate was born.

 

Violet.

 

Hi, Watson.

 

Well timed.

 

Shake hands with
Steve Dixie, the pugilist

 

for why to have a
future in this profession

 

if you didn't mix
with bad company.

 

What is happening here?

 

Abe, meddling in affairs
that don't concern him.

 

Now I warned him
and he got cocky.

 

No, keep talking,
keep talking it's fine.

 

It's fine is it?

 

Well, it won't
be so damn fine

 

if I have to thump
you around a bit.

 

Stop it, Watson, stop it.

 

Let us hear
who has sent him

 

on this
belligerent errand.

 

Sit down Dixie.

 

Talk to me.

 

Ah, thank you,

 

now tell me what
this is all about.

 

I ain't telling you
nothing, Mr. Holmes,

 

except you keep
away from Harrow.

 

I haven't been in
Harrow in months.

 

You know what
I'm talking about.

 

I'm warning you,

 

keep away.

 

On the matter of the
killing of Perkins

 

outside the Holburn Bar.

 

I had nothing
to do with that.

 

I was training, yeah,

 

at the bullring
in Birmingham

 

when that boy got done.

 

You'll tell that to the
magistrate, Mrs. Hudson.

 

Look, no hard feelings,
aye, Mr. Holmes?

 

Mrs. Hudson, there's been
a slight disturbance.

 

Oh, yeah, I just
done what I was told.

 

My regards to
Barney Stockdale.

 

Are you responsible
for this mess.

 

Go on down those
stairs with you at once.

 

Oh, he's a harmless
enough fellow

 

and easily
coward as you see.

 

One of the
Spencer John gang,

 

assaults,
intimidation and the like.

 

Why would they want
to intimidate you?

 

And who's
Barney Stockdale?

 

He's immediate principal.

 

Who's paying Barney
Stockdale I wonder?

 

The Three Gables
Harrow Weald.

 

He's broken our window.

 

Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,

 

I've had a succession
of strange incidents

 

occur to me in
connection with my house.

 

And I should much
value your advice.

 

You would find me at
home any time tomorrow.

 

I believe that my late
husband Mortimer Maberley

 

was one of your
early client.

 

Yours faithfully,

 

Mary Maberley.

 

This comic interlude
with Steve Dixie

 

convinces me there
must be something in it.

 

Let us wire her and
go out there at once.

 

I knew your
husband well, Madame,

 

but it was some years ago.

 

Well, it's some years

 

since he's been
with us the dear man.

 

Oh, will you
try some of this?

 

I baked it myself.

 

That's Douglas Maberley.

 

Yes.

 

I knew him slightly.

 

He's a splendid fellow.

 

He plays rugby for my
old club Black Heath.

 

I'm his grandmother.

 

Oh.

 

I was his grandmother.

 

He died a month ago.

 

Died?

 

You hadn't heard?

 

No, it was a sad ending.

 

Oh, I'm so sorry,

 

he seemed so full
of life and energy

 

it's hard to connect.

 

He lived too intensely.

 

It was the ruin of him.

 

Was it an accident?

 

I mean the last I heard

 

he'd been appointed
attach?to our
embassy in Rome.

 

He died in this house,

 

of pneumonia they say

 

brought on by
a ruptured spleen

 

but it's not to
talk of my grandson

 

that I asked you here.

 

Well, we are here, please.

 

To give you service.

 

Thank you.

 

Well I've been in this
house for over a year now

 

leading a retired life.

 

Three days ago I had a
call from a house agent.

 

The money is no
object, Madame.

 

But there's
several empty houses

 

around here on the market.

 

No, this, my client's
heart is set on this one.

 

Will you name your price?

 

I suggested 500 pounds
more than I gave for it.

 

He said
that his client...

 

My client desires to
buy the furniture as well.

 

All of it?

 

Everything.

 

But some of
it's very good.

 

Just state your
price, Mrs. Maberley.

 

So I did, a good round
sum and he agreed at once.

 

You see I've
always wanted

 

to travel around
the world if I could.

 

It's a legacy left to me
by my dear Mortimer.

 

No less, we never
really achieved it.

 

The man returned
the next day

 

with everything drawn up?

 

Yesterday, luckily
I showed it to
Mr. Sutro, my lawyer.

 

This is very strange.

 

Are you aware
that you cannot

 

take anything
out of the house

 

not even your own
personal possessions?

 

Not my clothes,

 

my jewelry?

 

Anything.

 

When the man
returned to the house

 

you pointed this out?

 

Yes.

 

He said I might take
some personal effects

 

but that nothing should go

 

out of this
house unchecked.

 

My client is very liberal

 

but has fads, Madame,

 

and a way of doing things.

 

I'm afraid it
must be everything

 

or nothing for my client.

 

Then it must be nothing.

 

Here it is.

 

Haines Johnson, auctioneer
valuer no address.

 

I doubt we shall find
him in the directory,

 

honest men don't conceal
their place of business.

 

(heavy breathing)

 

Just a little wheezy
for eavesdropping.

 

I just came in to find out

 

if the visitors were
staying for lunch, Madame.

 

Don't force
me to use this.

 

Mrs. Maberley, did
you mention to anyone

 

that you were
going to consult me?

 

I did not, Mr. Holmes.

 

Who posted the letter?

 

Susan did.

 

Susan?

 

Ah, to whom did you
send your message?

 

I sent no message.

 

Tell me?

 

Susan, I remember now,

 

I saw you speaking to
someone over the hedge.

 

That was my own
business, Madame.

 

Barney Stockdale.

 

Fine chance that would be.

 

I didn't even
know the man.

 

It is worth
10 pounds to you

 

if you tell me who
is at the back of this.

 

Someone who could
lay down 1,000 pounds

 

for every 10 you've
got in the world.

 

I see a rich
man who smiled,

 

a rich woman.

 

Tell me the name
and earn the money.

 

I'll see you
in hell first.

 

I'll send for my
box tomorrow, Madame.

 

This gang means business.

 

But what can
they possibly want?

 

Mrs. Maberley,

 

you say you've been in
this house for a year?

 

Nearly two.

 

So for nearly two years

 

no one has taken

 

any particular
interest in the house

 

and yet suddenly

 

within three or four days

 

urgent demands are made
for it and its contents.

 

Something new must've been
brought into the house.

 

No, I haven't bought
anything new for a year.

 

This, Susan, how long
has she been with you?

 

Almost three weeks.

 

Since your
grandson's death?

 

A week after.

 

Ah.

 

She presented herself

 

and I took her
in I suppose

 

without proper reference.

 

You know, this
cake is delicious.

 

Please, now will you tell
us about the circumstances

 

of your grandson's
return to Italy?

 

My gallant boy.

 

You may remember him

 

as debonair and
splendid, Dr. Watson.

 

You didn't
see the morose

 

and brooding
creature he became.

 

His heart was broken.

 

In a single month

 

I watched him turn into

 

a worn out cynical man.

 

A woman?

 

He wouldn't speak of it.

 

He was afraid of

 

upsetting his
grandma he said.

 

And so you never
learnt her name?

 

It might be advisable

 

for someone to
stay with you tonight.

 

Watson?

 

Yes, of course.

 

No, I really couldn't
ask such a thing.

 

No, no, no, we're leaving.

 

Thank you, Mrs. Maberley,

 

I shall be back
before dark,

 

don't concern yourself.

 

It might be
useful to find this

 

what's she called, Violet.

 

He may have confided
something to her

 

that he didn't tell
his grandmother

 

in his last hours.

 

Holmes?

 

Good Afternoon Mr. Dixie.

 

The old lady and the house

 

are both under
my protection

 

and don't you forget it.

 

Make sure they're gone.

 

Bring your
revolver tonight.

 

D, Douglas Maberley,

 

splendid, debonair,

 

too morose, cynical,

 

strong words.

 

Oh, no,

 

who is this lady
with no eyes?

 

Our course lies there.

 

There must be something

 

she doesn't know she has.

 

And probably
wouldn't tell us

 

even if she did know.

 

This is a case
for Langdale Pike.

 

That reptile.

 

Nonsense,
don't talk rubbish.

 

He's a gossip,

 

but he might
identify this rich woman.

 

Sad, he was
brilliant at university,

 

and you know,
I've always felt

 

that under that veneer

 

that he was
totally isolated.

 

Like me.

 

You see that?

 

That young girl there,

 

under the tree,

 

with the occasional hat,

 

what do you make of her?

 

She's looking for her dog.

 

What?

 

No, no, surely.

 

A saluki,

 

with a turquoise
collar perhaps.

 

She's a
stranger in the park

 

so is the dog.

 

There it is now.

 

How did you know that?

 

Her boots are
country boots

 

but not so robust,

 

as to suggest
a rough terrain.

 

Wiltshire,

 

Gloucestershire perhaps.

 

Yes, yes, yes, but,

 

don't you find
her attractive?

 

All right.

 

Why saluki?

 

Owners are meant to look
like their dogs, they say,

 

wouldn't you
say, saluki?

 

Remarkable.

 

She is in point of fact,

 

Lady Geraldine Windridge

 

the close
Marlborough, Wiltshire.

 

And now my, dear Holmes,

 

what is it you
want from me?

 

The late Douglas Maberley.

 

Poor boy,

 

and what a waste.

 

He was involved
with a lady

 

a well placed rich lady.

 

Known to you?

 

Have you
something to trade,

 

tittle for tattle?

 

Langdale, I'm in a hurry.

 

Hmm, thank you.

 

Her name is Isadora Klein.

 

Ah, yes, widow of
the German sugar king,

 

quite a celebrated beauty.

 

The celebrated beauty.

 

She's engaged
to be married

 

to the youthful
Duke of Lomond.

 

What else did
Pike tell you,

 

anything about
her and Maberley?

 

Nothing.

 

I wonder, Holmes,

 

do you think
it could be about

 

some compromising letters
she wants retrieved,

 

I mean particularly
in view of her
forthcoming marriage.

 

You mean love letters?

 

No, no, it's
deeper than that.

 

Listen, I demand
that you spend

 

a sleepless night

 

at the Three Gables

 

with that
revolver at hand.

 

How will you be
spending the evening?

 

Pursuing the matter
from another angle,

 

examining the principal.

 

So, what is it you have
to tell me, Miguel?

 

That stupid woman
Susan has left
the Maberley house.

 

Left?

 

Was forced to
leave she claims

 

by Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

 

He's refused our
request to avoid Harrow.

 

Sherlock Holmes,

 

then you did not
request him hard enough.

 

Well,

 

so Mr. Sherlock Holmes
is on the case.

 

He paid a visit
to the old lady

 

but left empty handed.

 

Have no fear.

 

We're losing time, Miguel,

 

we must act tonight,

 

arrange it.

 

This Mr. Sherlock Holmes
intrigues me.

 

Is he clever?

 

He has a reputation.

 

For solving crimes, yes,

 

but for women?

 

You still owe me a favor
dear boy, remember?

 

I shan't destroy the paper

 

until you've
returned the compliment,

 

remember
tittle for tattle?

 

Look at you,
I mean what's all this?

 

Oh, of course,

 

we are above the
bourgeois epitan costume,

 

the revels have begun.

 

Life is mystery enough

 

without your
pale conundrums.

 

Oh, so many people,

 

so little purpose.

 

That's God's conundrum.

 

If only we mortals
could answer that.

 

Then your life
would have no meaning.

 

Ah.

 

True, cruel,
cruel but so true.

 

I've always said that
if our late mutual friend,

 

Charles Augustus Milverton
was the bad angel.

 

I am the good angel.

 

I suppress much, much
more than I expose,

 

what sort of world
would it be if I didn't?

 

Which one is she?

 

Over there my dear fellow,

 

you could hardly mistake
her, with young Lomond.

 

La belle dame sans merci.

 

Douglas Maberley.

 

And others.

 

All those, all those
and then those.

 

Douglas was one
of the most striking
young men in London.

 

He gave all,

 

and expected all.

 

It was she who ended it.

 

Brutally.

 

Married to the
penniless diplomat
of little breeding

 

was not in the
widow's plans.

 

Don't your read my column?

 

And yet he seems,

 

even in death to have
some hold over her,

 

what is it?

 

Do what you like with the
information I gave you

 

but have no
truck with her.

 

Look, the sight of
her set my hairs on end.

 

She's deadly.

 

And now she has

 

her great Duke
aligned within her grasp.

 

Look at them.

 

She's old
enough to be his...

 

ah, the anguished mother.

 

I helped her husband once.

 

What is your
interest in her now?

 

Douglas is history,

 

he's dust, dust.

 

Aren't we all,

 

aren't we all.

 

Even you.

 

Not me dear boy, not me.

 

I withstand the
blasts of time.

 

Can't you see?

 

Good evening.

 

(whistling)

 

I was on my way to India,

 

governess to a family

 

when I met
my dear Mortimer.

 

He was going
the other way.

 

This is the hat
he was wearing,

 

over 60 years ago.

 

But you never
got to India?

 

No, I turned back
and went with him.

 

Oh, the fuss.

 

You see he was a penniless
salesman at the time,

 

gripe water, you know, the
things in baby's tummies.

 

But in his heart and
soul was adventure.

 

The places we
planned to visit

 

all over the world,

 

We never left Harrow.

 

Is that, is this
Mortimer with Douglas?

 

Oh, good heavens,

 

have I kept that,

 

how wonderful.

 

They doted on each other.

 

They were alike
in so many ways,

 

two peas in a pod.

 

And what happened to
his mother and father?

 

Oh my son and his wife

 

were killed in a climbing
accident in Snowdonia

 

when Douglas was
only two years old.

 

We brought him up
as our own you see.

 

This case in Harrow?

 

It concerns your
future daughter-in-law

 

and a late
acquaintance of hers.

 

The facts do
her no credit.

 

Something from her past?

 

I knew it.

 

Tell me at once.

 

I need a little time.

 

The wedding,
which I deplore,

 

is almost upon us.

 

My golden boy.

 

He's besotted
with this woman.

 

If you know
something against her,

 

pray God let the
scandal break now.

 

Oh, no, no, no,

 

I think a scandal
can be avoided.

 

Is there anything
you wish me to do?

 

Granting me this interview
was all that I needed.

 

Mrs. Klein will not
have been pleased
to see me here.

 

Mrs. Klein.

 

Harry would be
turning in his grave.

 

Leave all to me, please.

 

Ahhhhh!

 

Mrs. Maberley!

 

Leave me.

 

Go after them.

 

They've got it, go.

 

Oh, please hurry, oh.

 

Oh, hurry, please.

 

Steve Dixie.

 

Mr. Holmes,

 

Mr. Holmes, wake up.

 

It's bad news I'm afraid.

 

Wake up, Mr. Holmes.

 

Mr. Holmes?

 

It's bad news, Mr. Holmes.

 

What?

 

It's the doctor.

 

He's been brutally
attacked in Harrow.

 

No, no, he's alive.

 

He wired or rather
the lawyer did

 

to say I was to find
you if you weren't in

 

and you're to get there
as soon as possible

 

and I'd got him

 

a nice piece of
mackerel for his tea.

 

Dora, where's Dr. Watson?

 

He's upstairs, sir.

 

How is he?

 

I don't know, sir,

 

he had a good breakfast.

 

Your mistress?

 

She's resting, sir.

 

She wasn't badly hurt

 

but she's had
a nasty shock.

 

We all have.

 

Good Lord, what
have you got into?

 

What happened?

 

Madame says
she wants to see you

 

as soon as you arrive,
Mr. Holmes, sir.

 

Holmes, she's in a
very frail condition.

 

Physician, heal thyself.

 

Mr. Holmes,
how good of you.

 

How are you feeling?

 

Well, I'm alive

 

thanks to your brave
friend Dr. Watson.

 

Did he get it
back from them?

 

Get what?

 

Oh, of course
you wouldn't know.

 

I don't...

 

Mr. Holmes
I owe you an apology.

 

I prayed it would have
no bearing but it does.

 

Oh, it's so stupid of me.

 

It's the reason
for everything.

 

Douglas was
writing a book.

 

He said it
would explain it all.

 

He started it in Rome

 

and later when they
brought him back here,

 

he sat for hours

 

in that drafty
little summer house,

 

writing sometimes in the
most dreadful weather.

 

And later when he could
no longer leave his room,

 

he still
struggled with it.

 

Two copies,

 

one he gave to Violet

 

and told her to
deliver it to someone.

 

I don't know who.

 

He had sworn
her to secrecy,

 

and she kept her promise.

 

The other copy,

 

he urged me,

 

almost with
his dying breath

 

to send it to
his publisher.

 

I should've done so

 

but on the night
of his funeral,

 

and missing him so much

 

I read it through.

 

I knew at
once what it was,

 

his life.

 

That woman,

 

I didn't even
know her name.

 

The scandal it would cause

 

and I shut it
out of my mind,

 

locked it away,

 

and then last night when
Dr. Watson reminded me.

 

And they were
waiting for you?

 

Yes, and they
snatched it from me

 

as I was taking
it up to him.

 

All but this.

 

I tore it from the brute.

 

(long scream)

 

Where is it?

 

Where is it?

 

Miguel.

 

Miguel.

 

The page, where
is the last page?

 

He has it,
I know he has it.

 

One page, Carina,

 

not even Sherlock Holmes
can do anything with...

 

Burn it,
Don't talk, burn it.

 

Face bled,

 

his stomach burned
from the savage blows

 

but it was nothing to
the bleeding of his heart

 

when he saw
that lovely face,

 

a face, which he
had been prepared

 

to sacrifice his life for.

 

She smiled,

 

yes by heavens, she smiled

 

like the heartless
fiend she was.

 

It was at that moment

 

that love died,

 

and hate was born.

 

If it is not for
your embrace my lady,

 

then it shall be
for your undoing

 

and my complete revenge.

 

My complete revenge,

 

The he becomes my.

 

Yes, the writer
imagines himself the hero.

 

Two copies,

 

one to Mrs. Klein.

 

And this for publication.

 

All London
would recognize,

 

the wool from the lamb.

 

Sweet revenge.

 

Read me that first
sentence again.

 

Face bled,

 

his stomach burned
from the savage blow.

 

The cause of death.

 

Pneumonia from a ruptured
spleen the old woman said.

 

Good heavens,

 

ruptured from a kick,

 

that's murder.

 

We could never prove it.

 

I'm leaving for
Cricklewood.

 

Steve,

 

Grover's Square
five months ago?

 

That wasn't me,
Mr. Holmes.

 

You can't put that on me.

 

It doesn't
matter whose boot

 

killed Douglas Maberley,

 

you're all guilty.

 

Ha, Susan,

 

Susan, guarding the coop

 

while your
husband is in prison.

 

What's the new member
Mrs. Barney Stockdale?

 

Oh, yes.

 

Take care, Holmes.

 

You get out of here.

 

That woman will
put you behind bars

 

for what you
did last night.

 

And her employer,

 

Mrs. Klein of
Grosvenor Square

 

will see you all
hanged for murder

 

unless you do
what I tell you,

 

when I tell you.

 

Remember,
Perkins of Hobin.

 

Watson.

 

Let me look at you.

 

What do you see?

 

I see,

 

the woman I adore.

 

I'm ready now.

 

No stay here,

 

she's not Moriarty,
she's a woman.

 

That hand
needs redressing.

 

Just remember, Holmes,

 

the female can be more
deadly than the male.

 

Valuer and
auctioneer, my foot.

 

Ah, Madame.

 

You again, Holmes.

 

If you have something
to say to my bride,

 

speak out before
I kick you out.

 

No, I have been expecting
Mr. Holmes, leave us.

 

I have no intention of
leaving you with this...

 

Go, James.

 

Go.

 

I'm only surprised
it took you so long.

 

I am surprised
that you thought

 

bullies could frighten me.

 

No man would
take up my profession

 

if danger did
not attract him.

 

You're a gentleman,

 

I will treat
you as my friend.

 

I cannot promise
to reciprocate.

 

No doubt it was foolish

 

to threaten such a
brave man as yourself.

 

No, what was
really foolish

 

for an intelligent
woman like you

 

is to place
yourself in the power

 

of a band of rascals

 

who could blackmail,

 

or give you away.

 

No, no, I'm not so simple.

 

None of them
have the least idea

 

who their employer is.

 

Not Barney Stockdale
and his wife?

 

They are good hounds,

 

who run silent.

 

And are prepared to
go to prison for you?

 

They take what comes,

 

that's what
they're paid for.

 

And Mr. Haines-
Johnson oh surely
that is not his name,

 

what is he paid for?

 

Miguel, he's like
a brother to me.

 

As for the
others they work

 

and I do not
appear in the matter.

 

Unless I bring
you into it.

 

But you're a
gentleman, Mr. Holmes,

 

you respect
a woman's secret.

 

Huh, is murder
a woman's secret?

 

Murder?

 

My face bled,

 

my stomach burned,

 

from the savage blows

 

but it was nothing to
the bleeding of my heart,

 

page 245.

 

And there's a
witness, Mrs. Klein,

 

the prizefighter
Steve Dixie

 

who will testify
against you.

 

And all this, you told
my future mother-in-law?

 

What, I told the Dowager
is of no importance

 

since she cannot prevent

 

your marriage to her son.

 

No, she cannot.

 

And you believe
that you can.

 

Oh, yes.

 

Why should you wish to?

 

Is it because
I'm a foreigner?

 

Are you an English
snob, Mr. Holmes?

 

Let me tell you,

 

my people have been
leaders in Pernambuco

 

for generations.

 

Madam,

 

you are the bastard child

 

of a gypsy in Andalusia.

 

Hijo de puta!

 

Who told you?

 

It is my trade.

 

Now you must give
me the manuscript.

 

No, no, no.

 

Do you wish for
ashes in a paper bag?

 

You are hard to me,

 

look at it with my eyes.

 

A life's ambition
about to be ruined.

 

The original
sin was yours.

 

Yes, I know Douglas.

 

Yes, I did love him truly.

 

Yes, yes,
I did for a while,

 

in my fashion.

 

But he wanted marriage,

 

nothing less
would serve him.

 

It did not fit
with my plans.

 

And so you hired
ruffians to beat him

 

until he was nearly dead
under your own window,

 

is that the act of a lady?

 

Yes, it is true
Barney and the boys

 

drove him away perhaps
a little too roughly.

 

What did he do then,

 

he wrote a book.

 

A vicious personal attack.

 

Is that the act
of a gentleman?

 

You knew his publisher
had not received it?

 

Yes.

 

So it had to be in the
house of his grandmother.

 

As long as
that book existed

 

there was no
safety for me.

 

I wanted to do this
thing honestly.

 

I offered any price
she cared to ask

 

but she wouldn't take it.

 

Are we to be blamed for
protecting ourselves?

 

One thing intrigues me,

 

why a woman as
lovely as you

 

who wields such
power over men

 

needs the
protection of anyone?

 

Nature doesn't give
a damn for any of us.

 

I love James,

 

and I want him.

 

He represents,

 

all I've ever desired

 

and my one chance

 

of a kind of security,

 

which I call happiness

 

and you would take
it away from me.

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Because you are
a destroyer of men.

 

Oh yes.

 

You destroyed
Douglas Maberley

 

and very nearly my
friend John Watson

 

with the
ruthless disregard

 

for anything but your
own selfish interest.

 

Why have
I failed with you?

 

I require only this

 

that I read
of the breaking
of your engagement

 

to the Duke of Lomond

 

by Thursday morning.

 

And if I refuse?

 

Scotland Yard,

 

a full investigation
with witnesses.

 

I'm at your mercy,

 

Haz de me lopeor

 

Do your worst.

 

Oh, how much does it cost

 

to go around the world

 

in first class style?

 

Let me see, yes,

 

you will send a check
for 5,000 pounds

 

to Mrs. Maberley

 

you owe her a
little change of that.

 

Goodbye, Mrs. Klein.

 

I have no doubt I shall
see you again one day,

 

on the arm of a king.

 

And therefore
the celebrated
beauty Mrs. Klein

 

has departed for Spain.

 

Her people have been
leaders in Pernambuco

 

for generations.

 

Well, it's a
dignified report

 

I wonder what others
would have made of it.

 

You let her off
the hook, Holmes.

 

Compounding a
felony, you mean?

 

Murder.

 

It would have been
impossible to prove.

 

Mrs. Klein has learned,

 

that you can't play
with edged tools forever

 

without cutting those,

 

aging hands of hers.

 

Time is not on her side.

 

Shall we?