Finished.
What do you make of it Watson?
I believe you got eyes in the back of your head Holmes.
Well, I have a well-polished coffee pot in front of me.
Mrs. Hudson said it was left last night
while you were out. What do you make of it?
Well,
his name at least we know.
I think Dr. Mortimer is a successful elderly medical man,
well esteemed,
since those who know him gave him this mark of their appreciation.
Yeah. I think he's a country practitioner,
does a good deal of his visiting on foot.
Friends of the C.C.H.
I should guess that to be the local hunt
Oh, bravo, bravo Watson.
You know I am bound to say you habitually underrate your abilities.
Well.
It may be that you are not yourself-
luminous, but you are a conductor of light.
Some people without possessing genius
have remarkable power for stimulating it.
I confess that, my dear fellow, I am very much in your debt.
Thank you.
But I'm afraid that most of your conclusions were erroneous.
"H"? Surely hospital.
"C.C." suggests Charing Cross.
I mean if so I would postulate a young man under thirty, amiable,
absent-minded, unambitious,
and the possessor of a dog. Can I see the stick?
Thank you.
Larger than a terrier,
smaller than a mastiff.
I was right,
a curly haired spaniel.
Dr. Mortimer?
Thank you, sir, thank you.
I wasn't sure whether I left it here or at the shipping office.
The S. S. Gibraltar you see docks today
at Tewberry.
You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes.
I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull
or such well-marked supra-orbital development.
Would you have any objection to my running-
my finger along your parietal fissure?
Please, Dr. Mortimer.
A cast of your skull, sir, until the original becomes available.
It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess, that I covet your skull.
Behave and sit down, Dr. Mortimer.
Spot.
Easy. Good boy.
Well, I presume that it was not-
your phrenological passion which drew you to Baker Street?
Unfortunately, it was not, sir.
Spot.
I have here...
I have here the statement of a certain legend,
which runs in the Baskerville family.
Baskerville?
Yeah, I'm an executor of Sir Charles Baskerville's will,
and found it amongst his papers. It concerns Hugo Baskerville.
He was Lord of the manor, Grimpen on Dartmoor.
Dartmoor?
Some 200 years ago. The document is somewhat later.
"Learn then from this story to be circumspect in the future,"
"that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered may not be loosed"
"again to our comparable ruin, 8th of November 1742" was it?
Intriguing preamble.
I've read of Sir Charles Baskerville's death.
From a medical point of view it was a poorly informed article.
No, thank you.
He died of dyspnea and cardiac exhaustion.
Were the conditions linked or were they parallel?
Oh, they were linked in my opinion.
There was some, some facial distortion.
Caused by the cardiac pain presumably?
Yes.
You sound doubtful.
It was not merely facial distortion.
Well, here in 1692, Hugo Baskerville abducted a young girl.
But she escaped across the moor at night, cursing.
He un-kenneled his pack of hounds and hunted her down like a wild animal.
When his 3 drunken companions followed,
they found the girl in a deep dip or goyal
dead from fear and fatigue.
And it also confronted the cause of her death, a huge, demonic hound.
Even as they looked
the hound tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville.
One companion died that very night of what he saw,
and the other twain were broken men for the rest of their days.
The sound is supposed to have haunted the family since then
to the general misfortune of the line.
Well, this may appeal to your lurid taste in fiction, Watson.
It's a fairy tale, sir.
Of course, Mr. Holmes.
But fairy tales would not survive without a kernel of truth.
On the night Sir Charles died,
I arrived at Baskerville Hall at first light.
I shall tell you what I found.
No more or less.
This way please, sir?
I had been concerned about him for some time.
He had become obsessed with the Legend of the Hound.
It's by the summer house.
He believed he had heard the hound itself upon the moors,
he even believed he had seen it.
At the time I took such morbid fancies
to be part and parcel of Sir Charles' pathological condition.
And now?
I no longer believe that to be the case.
There, sir. We didn't like to move him, sir.
Once we knew.
Yes, yes quite Barrymore.
A sad occasion, Mrs. Barrymore, an unhappy vigil for you.
He was our hope, doctor.
Hope for the country hereabouts.
He brought the world to us.
He was our hope.
Before Sir Charles ran up the alley
he had eloquently stood at the gate for at least ten minutes.
How do you know that?
The ash had dropped twice from his cigar
and there were also three spent matches.
I'm impressed by Dr. Mortimer.
Was there anything else?
Yes.
Footprints? A man's or a woman's?
Mr. Holmes,
they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.
Several people have seen a creature upon the moor,
a huge creature, ghastly, and spectral.
I've crossed-examined two of them.
Hardheaded country men both and their stories tally.
I want you to advise me what I should do with Sir Henry Baskerville.
Henry Baskerville has spent his life in America.
He has come over on S. Gibraltar.
Been a pleasure having you Aboard, Sir Henry.
"Sir Henry"...I still haven't gotten used to that title.
Was there any other claim upon Sir Charles's estate?
None. His youngest brother, Roger-
died in Central America of yellow fever some 30 years ago.
Sir Henry is the last of the Baskerville's.
Why did you not consult me immediately?
There's a realm in which the most accomplished detective is helpless, sir.
There are certain things here, which are impossible to reconcile
to the settled order of nature.
If you believe this to be supernatural you'll find help from a more priest.
No, No, No, No, No.
How can I assist?
And I haven't an answer, damn it.
He's in a stir, sir, about his boot.
By thunder if that fellow can't find my old black boot.
Surely, it was a new brown boot.
No, last night they took one of the brown ones.
Today they've sneaked one of the black.
I'm sorry, Mortimer. I'm sorry to trouble you with this nonsense,
but this is a first class hotel, damn it.
Oh, hello.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, at your service.
I think it is worth troubling about as a matter of fact.
You do, why?
Because it's inexplicable
Good. That's good.
My God.
Have you got a cold Watson?
Why it's this poisonous atmosphere.
This is a big thick, I suppose.
Thick? It's intolerable.
You've been at your club all day.
How'd you know that?
Where do you think I've been?
Well, here, clearly. Clearly.
I've been at Devonshire.
In spirit?
Quite so.
I sent out for a map from Stamford's.
Now, see here.
Baskerville Hall.
Grimpen, just a clutter of cottages.
Two moorland houses, farmhouses,
Lafter Hall. Merripit House. And that is all.
Oh, this represents marshland,
and these barrows,
some prehistoric settlement or burial ground.
10 mile?
Disused, is it?
And all the rest is waste-
as far as the great convict, the prison of Princeton.
It is a worthy setting if the devil did decide to dabble in the affairs of man.
Then you yourself are inclined towards a supernatural explanation?
You'd word to better send Dr. Mortimer, we'll eat breakfast with him tomorrow.
It arrived by post this morning.
So you think of little puzzles, Mr. Holmes?
This one wants more thinking than I'm able to give it.
Posted yesterday?
Yes.
A joke, as like it's not.
Tell me, Sir Henry, has anything interesting happened to you
since you've been in London?
No, I don't think so.
Ever been followed?
What?
I seemed to right into a have walked dime novel.
Why should anyone follow me?
That letter was delivered to the hotel.
You are being followed, Sir Henry.
"If you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor."
The issue I suggest
is whether it constitutes a friendly or an unfriendly warning.
That is surely impossible to determine.
However has features that may help, the envelope for example.
If somewhat trampled is presentable.
It's contents mostly are not.
The letter has been torn neatly enough along a fold,
and the leader article in the Times the Leaded Bourgeois printers,
unmistakable has been chosen from which to cut the message,
but the message is all quickly cut with an appropriate short bladed scissors,
and the gluing of the print of the paper is smudged and misaligned.
May I see it?
Only half a sheet of paper and yet the watermark is clear.
Hudson Whale.
You will find that paper in a hundred middle grade hotels
but not from here.
A first class hotel would have a paper of a greater weight.
The ink is institutional.
I would also suggest a hotel.
Yet, what can we determine from this?
Pocket fluff.
I infer that the person who wrote this message
is staying at a nearby hotel.
He's neat of habit.
And studied the task methodically.
But then he began to fear discovery. He rushed it through
And put the result in his pocket until such time as he posted it.
It is true that fearful people threaten
but my interpretation is that this is a friendly warning.
Because it seems a risk was incurred in its execution.
Bravo, Mr. Holmes, you fulfill your reputation, sir. No mistake,
but if you're right and this fellow's afraid
then he's afraid not only for his own skin
but what might happen to me.
Quite so.
Dr. Mortimer, I think it is time that you explain.
Well, now you know the facts, Sir Henry.
The question is whether or not you should go to Dartmoor.
There's no devil in hell nor no man on this earth
that's going to prevent me from going to the home of my own people.
Then we'll see how we can mitigate the danger.
You really believe there is danger?
I think that if it is, that it is considerable.
You certainly cannot go alone.
Dr. Mortimer returns with me.
He has his practice and he lives some miles distant.
You'll come yourself?
I have to stay in London, blackmail case.
I recommend my friend Watson.
That's very kind of you, Doctor.
Watson.
This way.
Who was that man?
I have no idea.
Well, how did you know someone's been following Baskerville?
How else did they know so immediately where he was staying?
At least, they'll not continue to follow him now.
When the crisis comes, Watson, and it will, report to me.
Watson, do you know what the residue
of Sir Charles Baskerville's estate was?
No, I don't.
Close to a million.
A stake on which a man might play a dangerous game.
Such a sum has a definite materiality.
And yet of all things in heaven and earth.
We are men of science, Holmes.
Yet.
It's an ugly, dangerous business, Watson.
Believe me, I should be very glad
to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street, Watson.
Thank, you Holmes.
Holmes?
"My dear Watson,"
"I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions."
"Simply report facts to me in the fullest possible manner."
"Concentrate your attention upon the following."
"Above all, avoid the moor,"
"when as the old parchment frankly put it."
"The paths of evil are exalted."
What is this, Perkins?
Convict, escaped from Prince town, sir.
It's three days now.
They've been watching all over, they ain't seen no sign of him.
Farmers don't like it.
Who is he?
Selden, the Netting Hill murderer.
Folk are locking their doors I can tell you.
What'd the man do?
He murdered a whole family
with such savagery they deemed him insane.
Welcome, Sir Henry. Welcome to Baskerville Hall.
Thank you. It's Barrymore, yes?
At your service, sir.
Mrs. Barrymore.
Madame.
If I can be of service, do not hesitate to send for me day or night.
Of course, thank you.
Walk on.
This way, Sir Henry.
Five hundred years of us.
Just as I imagined it.
To much as I imagined it.
This place needs the products of Mr's Swann and Edison
but I suppose I can tone down to it.
Excellent meal, Barrymore. Please thank Mrs. Barrymore for us.
Thank you, sir. She'll be pleased you enjoyed it.
Well, Dr. Watson, shall we?
Sir?
Barrymore?
What is it?
Sir,
my wife and I will be happy to stay with you
or till you've settled in and made your arrangements.
But your family's been with us for generations.
I'm sorry to start my life here breaking an old family connection.
Thank you, sir.
My wife and I were much attached to Sir Charles, and, his death...
We feel that nothing can be...
We feel...
We feel we shall never be easy here at the hall, sir.
Right. Well, what do you mean to do?
Oh, Sir Charles's generosity
has given us the means to set up in business in a small way, sir.
Well, thank you for telling me.
Might I look forward to you pulling me a pint in your own house one day?
That is the sort of thing, sir. Thank you, sir.
Good. Mind you call it Baskerville arms?
Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.
That man is frightened.
Yes.
Turning into a rough night.
I shall walk over to the post office at Grimpen in the morning.
I'm sorry but Holmes asked me not to I et you leave the house without...
Doctor, this shall take care of any dog that I may meet in your absence.
Even armed.
All right. Tomorrow morning shall find me at home.
I'm safe at home, am I?
That's what Holmes believes.
It's an ugly and dangerous business, Watson.
I shall be glad to have you back safe and sound
in Baker Street once more.
There's a realm in which the most accomplished detective is helpless.
There are certain things here, which are impossible to reconcile
to the settled order of nature.
Above all, avoid the moor,
whereas the old parchment quaintly puts it.
The powers of evil are exalted.
Do you know what the residue of Sir Charles Baskerville's estate was?
Close to a million.
Such a sum has such a distinctive materiality about it.
Good morning. How are you today?
Oh, very well thank you.
There we are.
Thank you, sir.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, sir.
Dr. Watson?
Excuse my presumption. Dr. Mortimer pointed you out to me
from the window of his surgery as you passed.
Possibly, he's told you my name, Stapleton of Merripit House.
Yes indeed, how do you do?
We were concerned Frankland, Mortimer and I.
Concerned?
Less Sir Henry should not have come.
You know the legend of the fiend hound.
We thought it might seize his imagination just as it seized
poor Sir Charles'.
How is Mr. Sherlock Holmes? Dr. Watson you are here.
It follows then that Mr. Holmes is interested.
I'm afraid I cannot answer your question.
Well, may I ask if he is going to honor us with a visit himself?
He cannot leave town. Other cases engage his attention.
I assure you. I'm simply here to visit my friend, Sir Henry.
I do not need help.
I apologize for the intrusion.
A moderate walk along this path brings us to Merripit House
I wonder or perhaps you would spare mean hour Dr. Watson
that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister.
I'm expected back at Baskerville hall. I'm sure an hour will not hurt.
Thank you, Mr. Stapleton.
It was entomology was it that brought you to the moor?
Indeed. Although I'm delighting in it for it's own sake.
It is so vast, so barren, so mysterious.
Well, there for instance, what do you make of that?
Well, it would be a rare place for a gallop.
That is the great Grimpen Mire.
False step down means death to man or beast.
Well, only yesterday I saw one of the moor ponies wonder into it.
Never came out.
I could see his head for quite some time straining out of the bog hole,
but it sucked him down at last.
Even the dry season it is a danger to cross it,
but after these recent rains it is an awful place.
And yet,
I can find my way to the very heart of it, and return alive.
But why should you wish to visit such a horrible place?
You see the low hills there beyond it?
They're really islands. Flora there is undisturbed,
which mean of course, that rare species can breed there
and one of them a subspecies Lycanidi, is unique to the place.
In fact, I'm credited with its discovery.
Really?
The moor is full of noises.
But what was it?
The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its prey.
You don't believe such nonsense surely?
Did you ever hear the boom of a bittern?
No.
The bird is said, now, to be confined to-
certain Norfolk fens, but why not here?
I've heard its cry described as being something between-
a foghorn and a soul in torment.
What do you think?
Go back. Go straight to London instantly.
For God's sake do as I ask.
Go back and never set foot on the moor again.
Sh, my brother is coming.
Miss Stapleton.
Get away from this place at all costs.
Do you see that orchid?
Yes, yes I do.
It's a pity you came so late. Our best orchids are nearly over.
Jack.
You have introduced Yourselves, I see.
Yes, I was telling, Sir Henry,
it's a pity he has missed the beauties of the moor.
Were I Sir Henry, Miss Stapleton,
I'm sure I would not miss your beauty but I'm afraid I'm not.
Sir Henry, that is, merely his friend, Doctor John Watson at your service.
Did you catch your butterfly?
No. Highly flies like a witch I'm afraid.
Ah, there.
You must forgive and forget my foolish outburst, Doctor Watson.
I cannot forget, Miss Stapleton.
You must.
Sir Henry is my friend. His welfare is a very close concern of mine.
Tell me why you are so eager that he should return to London?
You know the story of the hound?
I do not believe such nonsense.
But I do. If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away.
I fear that unless you can give me more definite information than this
it would be impossible to get him to move.
I cannot say anything definite for I do not know anything definite.
Miss Stapleton,
I would ask you one more question
If you meant no more than this when you spoke to first me,
why were you so eager that your brother should not overhear what you said?
There is nothing to which he, or anybody else, could object.
My brother is very anxious to have the hall inhabited.
He thinks it's for the good of the poor folk upon the moor.
He would be very angry if he knew I had said anything,
which might induce Sir Henry to go away.
Any luck?
Afraid not.
Flies like a witch and so beautiful.
Pale, clouded yellow. I have a number of them I've caught.
I must show you my collection.
The English led the Doctor out of my field.
And I've made a particular study of those insects,
which inhabit the margins of heath and marsh.
A magnificent collection and the work of a serious scientist.
Even the exotica,
I must mention a brilliant creature called Morpo peridis lapida
was dated and cataloged with the care he applies
to his personal field, the British Lycanidi.
One of which is unique to the moor.
I must also report that the new brown boot has turned up.
Barrymore found it amongst Sir Henry's luggage when he unpacked.
Miss Stapleton is very handsome
and on Tuesday we are to dine here at Baskerville Hall with all our neighbors.
So, Sir Henry
who chaffs a little at the restrictions you have imposed upon him,
will have a chance to judge her beauty for himself.
We're also to meet Dr. Mortimer's wife
and the old vicar of Grimpen who is very shy they say
and Mr. Frankland, an amateur astronomer of some note
who has a reputation of being litigious to a fault.
A red-letter day.
The law is law and I need to teach them.
I have established a right-of-way
slapped through the middle of old Middleton's Park.
Case decided today.
We must teach these magnets they cannot ride roughshod
over the rights of commoners.
Case decided today.
Today, Mr. Franklin?
Today, sir.
Why do you ask?
Seeing you in Fern worthy that you had the wood bear closed to the villagers,
also today.
Red-letter day as I said. True, sir.
I shall be burnt in effigy tonight in Fern worthy,
but I have the case against them.
Infernal people seem to think there are no rights of property.
They can swarm where they like with their picnic papers and bottles
but why should they complain? No one goes to the wood now.
They have to cross the moor to get to it, no one will cross the moor.
And why is that sir?
You've surely heard. The hound walks abroad upon the moor.
The hound of the Baskervilles, Sir Henry.
I've heard.
Is it a phenomenon you believe in yourself, Mr. Frankland?
Ask the vicar. Astronomic and forensic matters are my domain,
demonic matters are his.
Is it a hound of hell vicar or what?
Yes.
An interesting question.
Whatever it is that is being seen. It is undoubtedly something.
Our farrier, Thomas Chub, is not a man given to visions
and he saw something out there. A dog he said.
About the size of a calf.
And I do not think local hysteria is an adequate explanation myself.
I pray nightly that it remove itself from us whatever it is
and that we all may sleep the more soundly.
Yes.
I believe it is Selden, the murderer who frightens the folk.
In he Grimpen they believe is still upon the moor.
We are too ready to condescend
and attribute superstition to these poor people
when they are, in fact subject to a natural and sensible fear.
Bravo, Miss Stapleton.
Bravo.
This hellhound's existence would not survive a court of law, mere hearsay.
Bring the thing before the bench
in the full blaze of jurisprudence say I then I will believe in it.
Thank you very much.
Thank you for a nice evening.
Good night, Doctor. It's very nice to see you.
Sir Henry?
Yes.
Sir Henry.
My dear fellow it's wonderful. I must compliment you on that claret.
Delicious. Absolutely delightful. Thank you.
Goodnight.
Barrymore?
Yes. He's been there a half an hour.
What's he doing?
I don't know.
Look.
Out on the moor.
It just happened, Sir Henry.
We must not go on to the moor in darkness.
And then the powers are exalted, Doctor, bogie's to frighten children man.
Come on, we have a chance of getting to the bottom of this business tonight.
There.
Watson.
You all right?
I felt to shoot but I couldn't.
Come on.
My God.
You believe there's any truth in these rumors?
Look.
What is it?
Barrymore?
It's not Selden at any rate.
We were followed in London and we're followed still.
Come on, let's get back to the house.
What's this all about Barrymore?
Sir, it may... it may seem that we have betrayed your trust.
Seem? Damn it. Barrymore, you have.
Sir... sir, no fault of his, sir.
He didn't want it, it's me. It's me and mine.
The poor creature came to me for help sir.
How could I refuse after what they have done to him?
So then Mrs. Barrymore, I don't understand
why should he come to respectable woman?
He's her brother, sir.
What?
It's true, sir
He dragged himself here half starved.
And what would you expect? We fed him.
We took food out for him sir, no more than you would for a dog.
We hoped he'd go, but the light has been there night after night.
Is this true, Barrymore?
Yes, sir.
Have you any conception what this man did Barrymore?
Yes, sir.
But he's a broken man. They've done surgery, sir, to tame him.
He's like a child, sir.
Please, sir.
Mrs. Barrymore, please, please, get up. This is not dignified, please.
My dear.
By a leave, sir, arrangements have been made.
He'll be out of the country in a few days.
I beg you sir, say nothing to the police.
What do you think, Doctor?
You say he's harmless now Barrymore, yet he threw a rock at us.
As a child might throw stones, sir. The murderous heart is gone out of him.
He's a frightening baby now, sir.
This is an apt description.
He will be harmless.
Very well. Please take your wife to your room.
We'll say nothing about this matter.
Thank you, sir.
I thought we had a chance of getting to the bottom of this business.
All we've seemed to of done is compound a felony.
I'm glad though that you heard that sound on the moor.
I was beginning to think I'd dreamt it.
I was in the territories once. I've heard wolves up there
but nothing to freeze the blood like that sound tonight.
Are you convinced it's the hound?
I am.
I wish to God Holmes was here.
Why does he not come?
And yet, Holmes, when daylight and birdsong return,
the black imaginings of the night evaporate.
Even, Dr. Mortimer assiduous visits,
accompanied as they are,
by constant talk of bones, or mortal residue,
fail to sour the beauties of the moor in autumn.
We are, however, still far from the heart of the mystery.
The question, which most persistently at nags me,
is who's the man on the tor?
With his identity known
I feel we should have the key
to this fatal riddle within our grasp.
This is rather a nice piece of cloth.
I think they...
Meanwhile, I have discovered a streak amiable tender heartedness in my host.
So guilty did, he feel of nearly shooting his servant's murderous brother-in-law
that he's given Barrymore many of his excellent American clothes.
Determined, as he now is, to play the role of English squire
in dress as in anything else.
Much too American and I'm turning over a new leaf. You take it.
Thank you kindly, sir.
Very smart, Sir Henry.
Yeah.
Well, I'm going to stroll up to Merripit House.
I thought I'd invite Stapleton and his sister.
Rather I should say,
Miss Stapleton and her brother to luncheon on Monday.
Well, I know you won't want me to come with you there.
But, Holmes insisted that I...
Now, look here my friend.
Holmes could not have foreseen certain developments.
You'd make a very civil gooseberry.
No. I'm afraid I have to go alone.
London, next stop.
Baskerville. Baskerville, how dare you, sir.
Make advances at my sister in such a fashion.
Jack.
I'm sure the lady gave you no reason to presume upon her good intentions.
We welcome you into our circle, sir.
And you repay the hospitality by forcing your disgusting attentions upon her.
No, but I assure you, sir, my intentions are honorable.
Away sir, away to the hall.
Beryl, come.
Hello, Watson. Where have you dropped from?
I took it upon myself to follow you.
I'm afraid my duty to Holmes overrode my tact.
I see.
Well, hope they're not selling tickets in Grimpen.
I assume you saw what happened?
Did he ever strike you as a bit crazy this brother of hers?
Not particularly.
I don't know why he does me.
What's he getting so heated about?
What objection can he have to me as a brother-in-law?
I mean he can't object to my worldly position, so-
it's got to be me myself... Oh, I don't know. Do you see it?
Not at all.
Nor me. Well, thanks.
He won't let us be together not for a moment.
He must realize.
You know what I don't understand there's a light in her eyes
that speaks louder than words.
I... know it... I know it in my heart.
But he treats me as if I was a...
if I in was a mad seducer an old melodrama.
Oh it's absurd.
Perhaps.
What?
I was just thinking that,
this business with the hound and the family curse and so on.
If Stapleton partly believes it's true,
perhaps he might want his sister not to be.
Yes, I know.
Just till the business is resolved.
Yes, of course.
Well, shall we walk home together?
The Ryan Observatory, please.
I am forever in your debt.
Oh, no. Not at all.
Well, good day.
Good day, Sir Henry.
Well, well.
What happened?
Stapleton. I still think the fellow's crazy,
but he's just given me the most complete apology
a man's ever likely received in his life
and he's invited us to dinner tomorrow, Friday indeed.
Good, I'll look forward to it.
Ah... the post at Grimpen.
Just so.
Thank you, sir.
May I have a word, sir?
Of course.
You... you've been very good to us, sir,
and I should like to do the best I can for you.
There's something I found out, sir.
Yes?
We found it after the inquest-
hadn't told a mortal soul didn't know how.
It's about Sir Charles' death, sir.
You know how he died?
No, sir.
Well, what then?
I do know why he was at the gate at that hour.
Why?
To meet a woman, sir.
Woman? Are you sure?
Oh, yes, sir.
Well, what was her name?
I can only give you her initials, sir.
Yes, there was something my wife found. She was cleaning out this very room,
Sir Charles's study, sir. In the grate there she found this scrap of paper.
It was all burnt but... Well, it could still be read.
From the shine and the writing if you know what I mean, sir?
Of course I understand, please go on.
Well, she called to me and I wrote it down.
"Please,"
"please as you are a gentleman burn this letter,"
"and be at the gate by ten o'clock."
Then the initials "L.L."
Good afternoon, Doctor Watson.
Mr. Frankland?
Come along up I shall order you tea.
Thank you.
You're here to solve the Baskerville mystery are you not?
Well, I have a telescope.
I see things on the moor surely you should know about them.
This striking portrait.
Huh?
Lora, your daughter, Mr. Frankland?
Yes. Yes, that is my daughter.
The woman she has become is not.
This way, doctor.
How's that?
Disinherited her.
Oh, I'm sorry to hear it.
You are what do you suppose such a thing does to her father?
This way.
Married her seducer, sir. An artist, so called.
Not that artist that artist earned his living.
Her artist was to grand to earn his living. Artist?
Wastrel Lyons, fellow called Lyons. Ever heard of him?
No, actually.
Lora Lyons.
Nobody has. After her money, my money,
I was burned in effigy in Fern worthy last week.
You predicted that I remember.
Exactly so because I know the slackness of authority hereabouts.
A case of Frankland v. Regina
will bring the matter of all the attention to the public.
I told the police they would have occasion
to regret their treatment of me and already my words have come true.
How so?
I could tell them what they are dying to know.
But you're not going to?
Certainly not.
Some case of poaching?
Poaching? Fiddle sticks.
The convict, sir, Selden, the mad stabber.
You don't mean to say you know where he is?
Near enough.
It has never occurred to the police
that the way to catch the man was to find out where he got his food,
and so trace it to him.
Barrymore.
His food is taken to him by a child.
A child?
Why not? I have observed the child for more than a week.
It is in the nature of children to form perverse allegiances.
But surely it's more likely to be the child of a moorland shepherd
taking him his lunch.
Flocks move. Quick. Doctor Watson, quick.
Yes, I see him.
Dr. Mortimer.
Dr. Watson. I have something marvelous to show you.
Isn't it beautiful?
Splendid.
The most complete of its kind I've yet found.
I find it myself once more. The laborers aren't here today.
It is quite, quite beautiful.
If there's one animal on this planet, which it I cannot abide, is a rabbit.
Really?
Rabbit's burrow.
Have you any conception of what a family of rabbits-
can do to the chronology of a dig in a single night?
You were on your way to Necropolis. I could show you around if you like.
The Necropolis?
Most people think it an in Neolithic village,
but I have reason to believe that a burial ground,
some most interesting features.
I shall be glad of your company there someone bivouacked near there.
Who is it?
It's the man who has been at Sir Henry's heels since he landed here.
I can't think his motives are benevolent so-
if you come I shall be obliged, if you bring that gun you handle so well.
There may be some danger.
If there's to be danger then two guns will be better than one.
Yes.
Do you know Lora Lyons?
Old Frankland's daughter, yes, she's a patient of mine.
She lives in Coombe-Tracey.
He's cut her off you know without a penny.
Do you know she was acquainted with Sir Charles?
Yes, it's possible. After her marriage went wrong,
she was able to set up for herself in a small way as a typist.
Sir Charles may have made that possible.
He was a man who fostered many good causes.
She may have been one of them.
What sort of a painter was Lyons?
Oh, brilliant.
"Dr. Watson is at Lafter Hall."
Perhaps it is you who's been dogged by this secret man.
Not Sir Henry at all.
What do we do?
I intend to wait.
Lamp.
It's a lovely evening, Doctor.
I really think you would be more comfortable outside than in.
When I see a cigarette stub marked Bradley Oxford Street,
I know my friend Watson is in the neighborhood.
Be careful with that gun.
I thought you were in Baker Street working on that case of blackmail?
That's what I wished you to think.
I've deserved better at your hands Holmes.
You used me and do not trust me.
Well, my presence would have warned our very formidable opponents,
and put them in our guard. It was essential that you and Sir Henry
believed me to be in London all the time and behaved accordingly.
Doctor Mortimer.
Mr. Holmes.
How long have you been in Devon?
Right after you saw me on my second night,
when I was foolish enough to show myself against the moon.
All of my reports have been wasted.
Not all of them, you know.
Here they are.
And very well thumbed, I assure you. I had to subvert the local post office.
Brilliant, my dear fellow. Brilliant.
You must, I know, have much to discuss, and I must be getting home.
Please one question, Mr. Holmes.
Are you any closer to discovering what, if anything, the hound is?
I am.
Does it exist?
It does.
Thank you, Dr. Mortimer.
Mr. Holmes.
Good day, Doctor Watson.
Thank you for your help.
Now let me see what meager refreshment I can provide.
Cartwright, the little chap from the express office,
I brought him down with me
to look after my simple wants. A loaf of bread and a clean collar.
I've discovered that there's a woman
living in Coombe-Tracey with the initials L.L.
Ah, yes, Frankland's daughter, Lora Lyons.
Our research has been running along the same lines.
Did you know that she's seeking a divorce from her husband?
But she lacks the means to carry it through. It is a costly business.
Do try my stew.
Now Dr. Mortimer thought that
Sir Charles might have been a discreet benefactor.
Really? That's interesting.
Please, Watson.
Its quite disgusting, Holmes.
Yes. Yes, it is.
Well, it's better when it's hot.
Did you know there was a close intimacy between Lora Lyons-
and the entomologist Stapleton?
No, I did not.
Yes, they meet, they write.
She's no doubt counting on becoming his wife.
That is the most powerful weapon in our hands.
How? I don't understand.
Because Miss Stapleton is in reality Stapleton's wife not his sister.
His wife?
Yes, it was she who sent us that warning to the Northumberland Hotel.
Why this elaborate deception?
Don't ask me the particulars, Watson, but it is murder.
Refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder.
What led you to it?
He is a genuine entomologist.
But that mention of his sole, claim to fame.
His discovery of a subspecies Lycanidi, that was his fatal moment.
There can only be one discoverer of a species. That pinpointed him.
It has been a hard trail...
Quickly.
It's Sir Henry.
It's Selden.
Sir Henry's clothes were the poor devils death.
Poor devil indeed. There's only a half-life in truth.
No one must know for the moment.
We must hide the body.
Sir Henry must know nothing of hearing the hound.
He'll have a better nerve for the ordeal he must undergo tomorrow.
So this is Baskerville Hall?
One moment, Watson.
Who?
It's Stapleton!
He's a Baskerville...
Sir Charles' brother,
who died of yellow fever in Costa Rica, did not die childless.
We have him Watson, we have him.
And I do swear that by tomorrow night
he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as well as his own butterflies.
I feel that Watson and I must go to London.
London?
I think we will be more useful there at this present juncture.
Excuse me.
Might I have some fresh coffee?
Certainly, sir.
But I thought you were going to see me through this business?
Trust me, my dear fellow.
I do.
Tell Stapleton that I would have been happy to come with you,
but the urgent business requires me to be in town.
I don't understand.
Should I not come with you to London? Why should I stay here alone?
No, you must stay,
and do exactly as I tell you.
Of course, I will.
Drive to Merripit House,
send the truck back and let it be known that you intend to walk home.
Across the moor?
At night?
If I had not every confidence in your nerve and courage,
I would not suggest it.
It is essential that you do this.
Then I will do just what you say.
Take the path... exactly on the path
from Merripit House to the Grimpen Road, it is your natural way home.
And when do you intend to leave?
Immediately after breakfast.
Thank you, Barrymore.
Sir.
Mrs. Lyons?
Yes.
So,
you admit that you asked Sir Charles to meet you at the gate at ten o'clock,
but you say that you did not keep the appointment?
I did not.
You do realize that was the very hour of his death?
Is that an accusation, sir?
No, no.
I'm merely asking if you can forge a connection between the two events.
There is no connection.
Mrs. Lyons we believe this to be a case of murder,
and the evidence may implicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton,
but his wife as well.
His wife?
Mrs. Has Lyons the person who passed for his sister
is really his wife.
His wife?
Mr. Holmes,
Mr. Stapleton offered me marriage
on condition that I could obtain a divorce from my husband.
He told me...
Ah, how he has lied.
He has lied and lied and lied.
Why should I preserve faith with him he never kept any with me?
Ask me what you will. There is nothing I shall hold back.
You have said Sir Charles helped you to set yourself up as a professional typist,
presumably that was after your husband deserted you.
Yes.
Sir Charles knew my father would not help me.
One thing I swear to you,
when I wrote the letter I never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman
who had been my kindest friend.
I entirely believe you, madam.
And Sir Charles used Stapleton as an intermediary?
He did not like to be seen to be doing good.
And the letter that you sent to Sir Charles on the day of his death?
I needed money for my divorce.
I had heard he was leaving for London.
And the sending of the letter was suggested by Stapleton?
He dictated it.
The reason he gave
was that Sir Charles would help
with the legal expenses of my divorce.
And he dissuaded you from keeping the appointment?
And swore me to silence concerning it.
He said that the death had been a very mysterious one,
and that I should certainly be suspected were the facts to become known.
He frightened me into silence.
A very fortunate escape, Mrs. Lyons.
You have been near the edge of the precipice.
Students of criminology will remember the incidents in Grodno, in Little Russia,
in the year '66, and of course there are the Anderson murders in North Carolina,
but this case possesses features which are entirely its own.
Dr. Watson tells me that you handle a gun.
I'm a fairly proficient.
Well, it was you, who first, brought this case to our attention.
Isn't it right that you'd be with us at the climax?
Thank you.
While Dr. Mortimer and I guard the Path, you watch the house, Watson.
I don't like it.
There's fog in the air. It's in the hollows already.
Be careful, Watson.
I'm so pleased you could come.
It's a pity Dr. Watson had to return to London.
Nevertheless, I'm sure we'll have a pleasant evening together.
If you'd excuse me for a moment, Sir Henry.
I shan't be long.
Help.
Help. Please.
Help me, please.
Sir Henry was still inside the house when I left.
It's getting late.
You said Beryl Stapleton was not there?
No. I cannot think where she might be,
and there were only two places laid for dinner.
That fog is getting thicker all the time.
Courage, Sir Henry. Brave it
It's coming.
You're a brave man.
Doctor?
It's all right, Sir Henry. It's all right.
The hound got past us.
Now, if you can manage it,
we must get back to the house as soon as possible.
Phosphorus?
No. Sir, no. Sir.
I protest, sir. It's outrage. Sir, you are not allowed.
Watson.
Stop, sir, stop.
The door's locked.
Help. Help me. Help.
Please, help. In here. Help.
She's badly hurt.
The brute.
You're all right.
I thought this man loved me.
He loves nothing.
Where is he? The police have...
He escaped.
He'll go to island at the heart of the mire.
I must take care.
Great care.
No.
Help me. Please, somebody help me.
Help me.
"Holmes had established that Stapleton had bought the dog from Mangles..."
Ross and Mangles of the Fulham Road in London.
"Ross and Mangles of the Fulham Road in London."
"He took it on the north Devon line"
"and walked a great distance over to the moor to his home,"
"as we know, he eventually kenneled it at the heart of the Grimpen Mire."
Of the Grimpen Mire.
How on earth did he expect to claim the inheritance if this-
creature had mauled Sir Henry to death?
Mauled, very good word Watson.
Through intermediaries Baron Stapleton said that
he intended to return to Central America,
and conduct his claim upon the estate from the depths of Costa Rica.
Having established his identity as a Baskerville
through the British authorities there.
Of course, he had no interest in the Estate, he simply wanted the money.
What about the boot?
He stole the boot presumably to have an article of Sir Henry's clothes,
and to set the hound on him.
That is why the new boot would not do.
Sir Henry had not worn it.
Watson, we are late.
I have tickets for Les Huguenots at Cover Garden.
A little dinner at Marcini's on the way?
Wonderful, Holmes.