It's no good. I shall have to go.
Go? Go where?
King's Pyland.
Last evening Inspector Gregory of the Devonshire Constabulary
arrested well known racing personality Fitzroy Simpson
and charged him with the murder of trainer, John Straker...
Oh, come in.
Two more telegrams, Mr. Holmes.
Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.
You've been bombarded with these the last couple of days.
Another one from Inspector Gregory.
A note from Colonel Ross.
Awe, that's the horse's owner.
Thank you my dear.
Watson,
I had made a blunder,
which I am afraid is a more common occurrence
than anyone would think who only knew me through your memoirs.
But the fact is that I could not believe
that so a remarkable a horse as Silver Blaze could disappear,
especially in the seclusion of somewhere like Dartmoor.
From hour to hour I expect to hear that the abductor
was the murderer of John Straker and the horse had been found
but that doesn't seem to be the case.
I should be happy to go with you.
No, Tavistock.
If I should not be in the way.
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.
Oh Watson, would you be so kind as to bring your field glasses?
Mrs. Hudson, were off to Dartmoor.
Tickets please.
Thank you, Inspector.
Thank you.
Watson, we're going well.
Our speed at present is fifty-three and half miles an hour.
I've not observed the quarter mile post.
Nor have I.
But the telegraphed posts on this line are sixty yards apart.
The calculation is a simple one.
Has that remarkably, colored, sporting paper
anything to say on the subject of 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's now in his fifth year
and has brought in turn each of the prize of the turf
to Colonel Ross his fortunate owner.
At the time of the catastrophe
he was first favored for the Wessex Cup.
The odds quoted being two to one against.
He's always been a prime favorite of the racing public
and has never yet disappointed them.
In spite of the unfavorable prize, 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, Baynes, will you stop here please, cause this is a rather good view.
Now that's King's Pyland over there Mr. Holmes.
You know my training stable where the missing 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 at jockey
until he got too heavy for the weighing chair.
Then seven years as my trainer.
Yes, he was a first class man.
And I presume the stables are beyond?
Yes, yes not a big yard, it's a good one.
My thought is quality not quantity.
As anyone connected with the turf will tell you, Mr. Holmes.
Yes, thank you, Inspector. You see,
at the moment I'm merely five horses in the yard.
I see you have two of them entered for the Wessex Cup, Colonel Ross.
That's right, yes. Yes, Silver Blaze and Bayard.
But between us Bayard is intended for a pacemaker.
Well with such valuable animals under his charge,
I imagine your trainer Mr. 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 loft.
Is that another training stable over there?
Yes, that's Mapleton.
Lord Backwater's yard.
Lord Backwater? Lord Backwater owns Desberly,
second favorite for the Wessex Cup.
This is not a bad horse. Not in the same class as Silver Blaze.
Fellow called, Silas Brown,
trains for Backwater, I can't stick the fellow himself.
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, Baynes.
Inspector Gregory,
are there any further 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 for so long in a place like this.
Nor can I.
I must tell you Mr. Holmes, that at first I was not at all taken
with Inspector Gregory's suggestion that you should be asked to come down here.
I don't like amateurs, you see?
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 wondering 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.
I expect a miracle from you, Mr. Holmes.
Inspector Gregory, my friends at Scotland Yard tell me
that you're 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 principle, witnesses waiting for you.
Thank you.
In here, Mr. Holmes.
Who are they?
Edith Baxter, 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 supper across from the house.
Awe, but Miss Baxter,
what did the supper consist of?
It was a dish of curried mutton, sir.
Suddenly I heard a man's voice.
Did not 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'd almost made up my mind to sleep on the moor
when I saw the light.
This is King's Pyland training stable, sir.
What a stroke of luck.
I understand there's stable lad who 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 would you?
See the boy has this tonight
and you shall have the prettiest frock money can buy.
I couldn't!
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.
We best cut back to the house. Quick tell the governor!
Yes Ned.
Good evening I want a word with you.
What business have you here?
It's a business that may put something in your pocket, my lad.
Now you've two horses entering the Wessex Cup,
Silver Blaze and Bayard.
Let me have the straight tip and you won't be the loser.
Is it the fact that at the weights Bayard can give the other a hundred yards
and five furlongs in the...
You wont get any tips around here, get out!
After him boy, after him!
The governor and the others came down soon enough.
We found not a sight or sound of the man.
One moment.
When you let the dog out did you leave the door open behind you?
Oh excellent, Watson, excellent. It's just the point I was going to make.
I locked the door behind me sir. 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.
Well when she 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, Robbie come quick, Silver Blaze is gone.
Over here.
He was dead sir.
His head,
it was all knocked in.
It was terrible.
It was a terrible blow on the head
from some blunt instrument that had killed him.
It was clear that he had defended himself most vigorously.
The blood stained knife.
As to the wound on the thigh, who can tell?
Well it is possible that the wound on the thigh
could have been caused as Straker fell.
The lad here was drugged.
Appreciable quantities of powered opium were found in his carry.
Did all 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.
Stop it boy. Stop it. Come on. Good dog.
Good boy.
My theory is that Simpson was under some strong
obligation to Nobble or otherwise incapacitate this horse
so that he would be unable to run in the Wessex Cup.
Clever move that, putting opium in the boy's food
and easy enough through that window.
Yes. Then it was simple.
He obtained a duplicate key, led out the horse,
it was his bad luck that Straker was alert enough to catch him up on the moor,
in the struggle the horse bolted.
That's no proof that Simpson killed Straker.
Well the evidence against him is very strong.
He was undoubtedly 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
And he went pale as death when I confronted him with that fact.
I really think we have enough to go before a jury.
No, no, no.
Inspector, a cleaver council would tear it all to rags.
Has a duplicate key been found in his possession?
No.
Well what chemist sold him the powered opium?
And above all how could he, a stranger in this district, hide a horse
and such a horse as Silver Blaze?
I agree the evidence is circumstantial
but I think the net is drawn pretty tightly around Fitzroy Simpson
and I believe he is our man.
What sort of fellow is he and why would he do such a thing?
Fitzroy Simpson is a man of excellent birth and dedication.
Unfortunately he has squandered a fortune on the turf, which has-
put him in the hands of moneylenders and unscrupulous bookmakers.
Plenty of those sharks in the racing world.
I didn't know that you were a betting man, Watson.
What? Oh, just the occasional flutter.
I presume an inventory has been made
of what Straker had in his pockets at the time of his death?
I have the things themselves in the sitting room
if you would care to see them.
Weiss & Co., London.
From the bloodstains, I presume,
this is the knife that was found in the dead man's grasp.
Yes indeed.
This is more in your line, Doctor.
This is what we call a cataract knife.
Very delicate blade devised for very delicate work.
Strange thing for a man to take on so rough an expedition, Holmes,
especially as it wouldn't shut in his pocket.
Awe, the tip was guarded by a disc of cork,
which we found beside the body.
You impress me, Inspector.
Thank you. Mrs. Straker says it was on the dressing table.
It was probably the nearest thing to him at the time.
I see.
Corn merchants bill.
Instructions from Colonel Ross.
Awe what have we here?
A milliner's account for 37 pounds fifteen shillings
for a Madame Lesurier, of Bond Street, London,
to a Mr. William Derbyshire.
Mrs. Straker tells us that Derbyshire was a friend of her husband's
and on occasionally had his letters addressed here.
Twenty-two guineas.
Somewhat heavy for a single costume.
Mrs. Derbyshire had rather expensive taste.
Yes.
Well there appears to be nothing more to learn here, Inspector,
shall we move onto the scene of the crime?
Yes, of course.
After you Watson.
Have you got them, Inspector?
Is there any more news?
I'm afraid not, Mrs. Straker.
But Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson
have come down from London to help us.
I assure you we're doing everything possible.
I wish you good luck, Mr. Holmes.
Oh thank you madam and my commiserations on your great loss.
Surely we've met?
At a garden party in Plymouth some time ago.
No sir. You are mistaken.
No, do you know I could have sworn it.
You wore a costume of dove-colored silk
with ostrich feather trimming.
I never had such a dress, sir.
That quite settles it. Thank you.
That is the bush where the coat was hanging.
What was the weather like?
Wind calm bit of rain about.
And the coat was not blown against the bush but placed there?
Oh yes, it was placed.
Inspector!
No, no, no!
So many people have trampled around this land.
There have been many people here.
That piece of matting has been placed there
and we have all stood upon there.
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.
Half burned wax candle.
I cannot understand how I came to overlook them.
Oh they're invisible buried in the mud.
I only saw them because I was looking for them.
What, you expected to find them?
I thought it not unlikely.
I'm afraid there are no more tracks.
I've examined the ground for a hundred yards in every direction.
What a pleasant evening.
I think I'll take a walk, stretch my legs Watson?
Yes, indeed.
I'll take this for luck.
I have some work to do in the house,
then Colonel Ross is coming to take us back to Tavistock.
Good evening, Constable.
Suppose that 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's correct.
No, no, no, no.
A horse is a most gregarious creature.
Now he did not go back to King's Pyland
to his own stable, 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
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.
Look! Look!
Horse and man turned.
No loitering around 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 was to call around here at five-thirty tomorrow morning?
I shouldn't be speaking to you by rights.
Here lad.
Mr. Brown's the early bird around here all right,
Dawson, what are you doing gossiping with strangers?
Be about your business.
Now what the devil do you two want around here?
Just 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 every gadabout stranger on the moor?
It may save you instant dismissal from Lord Blackwater's service
and the stiffest prison sentence.
Keep guard.
Early Tuesday morning,
you're about the yard as usual,
when you saw a horse on the moor.
When you approached it you realized that it wasn't a strange horse at all.
It was 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.
You have 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.
Now. Sir.
I 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
that Master Silas Brown. I've seldom met with.
He has the horse then?
Of course.
But his stables have been searched.
An old faker like him knows many a dodge.
Watson, I didn't know whether you observed
but Colonel Ross manner has been somewhat cavalier.
I'm inclined to have a little amusement at his expense.
Say nothing to him about the horse.
I shall say 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.
Fitzroy Simpson may well have an understanding with them
over hiding the horse.
Nevertheless, I think I owe it to the public
to remove Silver Blaze's name for the entrance for the cup.
No, certainly not! Colonel, I should let the name stand.
But I've already withdrawn Bayard.
But I have every hope that Silver Blaze will start on Saturday.
Have your jockey at 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 be devoting yourself to that problem.
On the contrary, Doctor Watson and I
were taking the Night Express to London.
We've had the most charming little breath of your country air.
So you've despaired already of arresting the murderer of poor John Straker.
With our certain grave difficulties.
Do you have the photograph of Straker?
Thank you, Inspector. I am quite ready now for Tavistock.
Linger.
I must say I am rather disappointed in our London consultant.
I don't see that were any further than when he came.
But at least you have his assurance Colonel 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 advice, Colonel.
Well I shall have to see.
Excuse me, whom looks after these sheep?
I do, sir.
Have you noticed anything amiss of late?
No sir.
Well it's not much account, but three of them have gone lame.
Thank you.
A long shot, Watson, a very long shot. After you.
Inspector I would like to recommend to you
the singular epidemic among the sheep.
You really consider that to be important?
Exceedingly so.
All right Baynes.
Is there any other point
to which you wish to draw my attention, Mr. Holmes?
To the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime.
But the dog did nothing in the nighttime.
That is the curious incident.
Where the devil is my horse, Holmes?
No, no, no, no. Where the devil is he?
I suppose, Colonel, that you would recognize him if you saw him?
Know my own horse?
I have been on the turf for twenty 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 realize if my horse doesn't run,
quite a part from being lynched by the crowd,
I shall be up before the Stewards.
Probably warned off every racecourse in England for life.
Reputation ruined.
Awe, let us hope it does not come to that, Colonel.
Here's Doctor Watson.
And this, Colonel,
is your horse.
But that's not my horse, Holmes!
Good God man, what have you done?
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 take my breath away, Mr. Holmes.
Silver Blaze.
If he runs me lord to win a place me lord?
To win, of course.
Any more like you at home?
Come on! What's the matter with the damn horse?
What have you done to him Holmes?
He seems to be missing his pacemaker.
I should have never withdrawn Bayard.
Wait a minute he's breaking through.
Come on Silver Blaze. Come on Silver Blaze.
Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on.
You've done wonders Mr. Holmes,
and I owe you a thousand apologies for having doubted your ability.
Now you've done me a great service by recovering my horse.
You'd do me a greater still
if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.
I've done so.
What? What's all this about if you got him. Where is he then?
He's here.
Here! Where?
Some who's now present at this very moment.
Yes, I quite recognize that I'm under obligations to you Mr. Holmes,
but this either a very bad joke or an insult.
Oh the real murderer, Colonel, is Standing immediately behind you.
What the horse?
Yes, the horse.
And it may lessen his guilt if I say
that it was done entirely in self-defense,
and that John Straker
was a man quite unworthy of your trust.
Number four, sir, winner.
Come Ross.
Yes, thank you very much.
Thank you very much.
Number twelve.
Very proud of it. Very proud.
Thank you very much. Thank you.
I confess, gentlemen, when we came down to King's Pylan,
I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson was the true culprit.
All the newspaper and police reports seemed to point to it.
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?
Oh quite correct. The flavor is not distasteful but it is perceptible.
Were it mixed with an ordinary dish the eater would undoubtedly detect it
but would 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.
Cause I remember you spoke of a dog.
Yes, the dog that didn't bark in the night.
Well someone had been into the stable
and taken out the horse and the dog had not barked.
So obviously this midnight visitor was someone the dog knew well.
I wasn't really convinced that it was a stranger.
But for what purpose should he take out the horse, and
drug his own stable boy?
A dishonest one, obviously.
There have been cases before now
where trainers have made great sums of money by
laying against their own horses and then preventing them from winning.
Well sometimes you get a pulling jockey, I will say that.
And sometimes
by surer and most subtler means.
This-
singular knife, it was found in the dead man's hand
and which no sane man would use as a weapon, right?
Oh yes, only, 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 will be put down to a strain in training
or bruised, never foul play.
Villain! The damn 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.
Of course, 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 taste.
Liberal though you are with your servants,
I'm sure they're not able to afford
twenty-two 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 recognized 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 left him to his miserable plot.
Straker let 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 horses 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.
Why? And why did the horse lash out so suddenly?
Frightened by the candle, the knife?
Well animals have a strange instinct.
They seem to know when some mischief is intended.
My final shot I must confess, was a long one.
It struck me that such astute man, as Straker
would not undertake this tendon-nicking without a little practice.
The sheep! Of course!
Wonderful, my dear.
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 neighbors.
Gentlemen I give you a toast
to Silver Blaze
coupled with the names of my friends,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.