...long, long before Jesus was born,
it is truly a lost world and it's in Brazil.
Your mamma's homeland and your country, too.
Never allow yourself to love someone too deeply, Mr. Bates.
It will destroy you.
So, you've come.
You have a case Holmes.
Ha, your faculty of observation is certainly contagious.
It has enabled you at once to probe my secret. Yes, I have a case-
after a month of trivialities and stagnation
the wheels move once more.
Might I share it?
There's little to share.
We will discuss it after you consume those two hard-boiled eggs,
which our temporary cook has favored us.
Their condition may not be unconnected
with a copy of the Family Herald which I observed yesterday
on the hall table.
Even so trivial a matter as them cooking an egg demands an attention,
which is incompatible with a love romance
in that excellent periodical.
I hope Mrs. Hudson is enjoying her holiday.
You've heard of Neil Gibson, the gold king?
You mean the American senator?
Well he was senator of some western state.
He's better known as the greatest gold mining magnet in the world.
Yes, I know of him.
Stayed in England for some time, didn't he?
He bought a considerable estate in Hampshire some five years ago.
You may have heard of the tragic death of his wife.
Oh, that's why the name is familiar. I know nothing of the details.
The fact is that the case,
although exceedingly sensational appears to present no difficulty.
The interesting personality of the accused, Miss Grace Dunbar
does not obscure the clearness of the evidence.
That the view taken by the coroner's jury
and also in the police court proceedings.
It is a thankless business, Watson.
I can discover facts, but I cannot change them.
Unless some new and entirely unexpected ones come to light
I do not see what my client can hope for.
Your client?
I'm falling into your involved habit of telling a story back...
I don't believe this. You must read this first.
"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,"
"I cannot see the best woman God ever made"
"go to her death without doing all that is possible to save her."
"I can't explain things. I can't even try to explain them"
"but I know beyond all doubt that Miss Dunbar is innocent."
"You know the facts. Who doesn't?"
"It has been the gossip of the country and never a voice raised for her."
"It's the damned injustice of it all that makes me crazy."
"That woman has a heart that wouldn't let her kill a fly."
"Maybe I have a clue and don't know it."
"Anyway, all I know and all I have and all I am"
"are for your use if only you can save her."
You hardly have time to master all these cuttings
so I must give it to you in a lecture
if you're going to take an intelligent interest in the proceedings.
Mr. Gibson, as I understand is a man who married a Brazilian wife,
and for whom I know nothing except that she was past her prime,
which was all the more unfortunate. She has a very attractive governess
who superintended the education of two children.
These are the three people concerned. The scene is the grand old manor house.
As to the tragedy it takes place across a bridge over the lake
half a mile from the house.
The wife was found late at night by a gamekeeper on that bridge.
She was clad in her dinner dress and a revolver bullet through her brain.
No weapon was found near her
and there was no local clue as to her murder.
No weapon near her. Mark that, Watson.
Is this too condensed, or can you follow it clearly?
No, no, it's all very clear, but,
why suspect the governess?
Well, in the first place there was some very direct evidence.
The dead woman had a note upon her making an appointment at the bridge.
And signed by the governess.
Mr. Gibson sent his farm manager for the police and stayed with the body
insisting that nothing should be removed
until the police arrived just after 11:00.
Then there is the evidence of the revolver
with one discharged chamber.
And a caliber which corresponded with the bullet.
Yes, I see it here. It was found in the drawer of her wardrobe.
In the drawer of her wardrobe.
That's pretty damning.
So the two juries thought, it is now referred to the Assizes in Winchester.
And the motive?
Mr. Gibson is a very attractive man.
If his wife dies
who more likely to succeed her than the young lady who had already
by all accounts received pressing attentions from her employer.
Love, fortune, power,
all depending upon one middle-aged man,
ugly, Watson, very ugly.
Nor could she prove an alibi.
On the contrary, she had to admit that she was down to the bridge by 9:00.
A servant had seen her hurrying there.
Well, it really does seem final.
And yet, Watson,
and yet.
Unless I'm mistaken that is our client considerably before his time.
Gentleman to see you, sir.
Mr. Neil Gibson?
No, sir, not him. His name is Bates and he looks a bit aggravated.
Thank you, Billy.
I have only a short time, Mr. Bates.
I know Mr. Gibson is coming. I am manager of his estate.
Mr. Holmes, he's a villain, an infernal villain.
Strong words, Mr. Bates.
Well, I have to be emphatic, Mr. Holmes.
The time is so limited. I'll not have him find me here for the world.
And you're his manager.
Oh, I've given him notice.
In a couple of weeks I shall have shaken off his cursed slavery.
He's a hard man, Mr. Holmes,
hard to all about him. But his wife was his chief victim.
He was brutal to her. Oh, yes, sir, brutal.
Now how she come by her death I do not know,
but let me tell you he made her life a misery.
She was a creature of the tropics,
a Brazilian by birth as you no doubt know.
Yes, I understand. Please continue, continue.
Well tropical by birth, tropical by nature,
she was a child of the sun and of passion.
She loved him as only such women can love. We all felt for her.
Hated him for the way he treated her.
But he's plausible and cunning. And that's all I have to tell you.
Don't take him at face value. There is more behind.
Now I'll go. No, please don't detain me. He's almost due.
Well, well, well.
Mr. Gibson has a nice loyal household.
Rewarding is a useful one.
Mr. Gibson, straight upstairs, sir.
This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.
Let me say right here, Mr. Holmes.
Money is nothing to me in this business.
You can burn it if it's any use enlightening you to the truth.
This woman is innocent. This woman has to be cleared.
It's up to you to do it. Now name your figure.
My professional charges are at a fixed rate.
I do not vary them save when I remit them altogether.
Well, if money makes no difference to you think of the reputation.
If you pull this off every newspaper in England and America will be booming.
You'll be the talk of two continents.
I do not think I'm in need of booming, Mr. Gibson.
Please let us get down to the facts.
Well, you'll find most of the main ones in the press reports.
I don't think I can add much to them,
but if there's anything you'd wish more light on, well I'm here to give it.
Well there is just one point.
What is it?
What are your exact relations with Miss Dunbar?
I suppose you are within your rights,
maybe doing your duty, in asking such a question, Mr. Holmes.
We will agree to suppose so.
Then I can assure you that our relations were always and entirely
those of an employer that awards a young lady
whom he never conversed with or even saw
save when she was in the company of his children.
I'm rather a busy man, Mr. Gibson.
I don't have the time or taste for aimless conversations.
I wish you good morning.
What the devil do you mean by this, Mr. Holmes?
Do you dismiss my case?
No, Mr. Gibson, I dismiss you.
The case is quite sufficiently complicated
without the added difficulty of false information.
Meaning that I lied?
I tried to express it as delicately as I could,
but if you insist upon the word. I will not contradict you.
Don't be noisy, Mr. Gibson.
I find after breakfast any argument most unsettling.
I suggest a little stroll in the open air
and some quiet thought will be greatly to your advantage.
I've broken stronger men than you, Mr. Holmes.
Nobody crosses me and gets the better of it.
So many have said so, yet here I am.
Well, Watson he has a great deal yet to learn.
How on earth did you know about his relationship with the governess?
Bluff, Watson, bluff.
I considered the passionate and unbusinesslike tone of his letter
contrasted with his manner and appearance.
It was pretty clear there was some deep emotion
centered upon the accused woman rather than the victim.
I bluffed him by giving the impression that I was absolutely certain of it.
When in reality you were only suspicious.
Do you think he'll come back?
He is sure to come back.
He must come back.
Oh, no, no, my dear Watson.
I fear you will not improve any reputation I have acquired
by adding the Thor Bridge mystery
to your annuals. I fear I made a serious misjudgment.
Holmes, the senator may not have returned
but surely his letter has engaged you on behalf of Miss Dunbar.
She's the one in need. Might we not pay her a visit?
In the cells of Winchester? That will require official permits.
Well, we have the means to apply.
Of course, it may not be quite ethical.
But practical, Watson.
Practical. I congratulate you.
You solved our problem, Watson?
Some officious little pipsqueak of a clerk
queried both the letter and our home office permit.
He demanded a personal authorization from Gibson himself.
But you sorted it out?
Only by the good fortune of meeting her lawyer Mr. Cummings.
He secured a brief audience with her,
Mr. Joyce Cummings is a man with a rising reputation
that is certainly in her favor.
It really is providence to see you here, Mr. Holmes.
Her trial is in two days
and I really am at my wits ends to find any evidence to save her.
Did she admit to writing the note and keeping the rendezvous with Mrs. Gibson?
She has little choice.
But beyond that I have advised her to reserve her defense.
Quite so.
This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his colleague, Dr. Watson.
Your employer, Mr. Gibson has engaged me
to look into this unhappy matter.
Oh, I'm very grateful to Mr. Gibson.
It is incredible that the charge against me has been sustained.
I thought the whole thing would clear itself up in the police court.
My dear, dear, I beg of you to have no illusions.
Mr. Cummings here will assure you
all the cards at present are against you.
Mr. Gibson is convinced of your innocence
but it would be a cruel deception to pretend
that you're not in very great danger.
I will conceal nothing.
What were the true relations between you and Mr. Gibson's wife?
Permit? What permit?
How dare you take this liberty, Mr. Holmes?
Mr. Gibson.
And you, Cummings,
I did not engage you, sir, to conspire against me.
These men are here under false pretenses.
I did not authorize their visit. They're deceivers.
I demand their removal at once.
You have made a disturbance, Mr. Gibson, worthy of bedlam.
I'll have you crushed for this, Holmes.
Well, it'll profit you nothing.
Mr. Holmes.
We are leaving, superintendent.
Mr. Cummings.
For the moment, Miss Dunbar.
You must put your faith in Sherlock Holmes.
Ah... Mr?
Ferguson.
There is an excellent exhibition
at the museum across the street. I recommend it to you.
The museum closes at 5:00.
The copy of the lease of the buck-boat glass workers dated 1578.
These Huguenots, are they any relations of yours?
Possibly.
Monsieur Potel and this paper making of laver stoke.
They've had the manufacture of bank notes for over a 100 years.
Well, it's good to know there's money somewhere in your family.
Good afternoon, Mr. Ferguson.
Mr. Neil Gibson wishes to see you
at Thor Place at 11:00 tomorrow morning.
This evening will be more convenient.
The morning, 11:00, Mr. Holmes.
Will a motor be sent for us?
There is a train which will take you to Thor Village.
Mr. Gibson is a busy man. He expects punctuality.
How did you know that he was going to turn?
I gambled, there's been enough of an impression
upon Miss Dunbar to turn us back into favor.
We are after all her only hope.
Now, Watson, we must find a comfortable inn for the night
so that we can arrive punctually at Thor Place at 9:00 in the morning.
I thought he said 11:00.
9:00, Watson, to meet Sergeant Coventry of the local police.
In all events, Mr. Holmes, I'd rather have you than Scotland Yard.
If the Yard gets called into a case, the local loses all credit for success
and may be blamed for failure. Now, you play it straight, so I've heard.
I need not appear in the matter at all.
That's very handsome of you.
And your friend, Dr. Watson, can be trusted I know.
Now there is one question I'd like to ask you
but I breath it to no soul but you.
Don't you think there might be a case against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?
According to the servants, he retired to his study after dinner
and had no company at all until the alarm at 11:00.
Yes, I've been considering Mr. Gibson.
These Americans are readier with their pistols than our folk are.
It was his pistol, you know. One of a pair he had.
One of a pair? Where is the other?
Well these gentlemen have all kinds of firearms of one sort or another.
We never quite matched that particular pistol.
The box was made for two. Now, this is where the body lay.
I gathered from the press reports that the shot was fired at close quarters.
Very close sir.
Near the right temple?
Just behind it, sir.
How did the body lie?
On the back, sir.
No trace of a struggle, no mark, no weapons.
The short note from Miss Dunbar was clutched in her left hand.
Clutched?
Yes, sir, we could hardly open her fingers.
That is of the greatest importance.
It excludes the idea that anybody could have placed it there.
After death to furnish a false clue.
But dear me, the note as I remember, was quite short.
"Yes, I'll be at Thor Bridge 9:00 G. Dunbar." Wasn't that it?
So it was, sir.
The point of the note is obscured, is it not?
Well, sir, it seemed if I may be bold as to say so
the only real clear point in the whole case.
Assuming the note is genuine.
She certainly received it some time before, say an hour or two.
Why was she then clasping it in the left hand?
She had no need to refer to it in the interview.
Does that not seem remarkable?
Well sir, as you put it, perhaps it does.
That is curious.
Oh, yes, sir, we noticed that.
I expect it's been done by some passer-by.
Took some violence to do that.
It was a hard knock not from above, but below.
You see some lower end of the parapet, Watson?
Yes, and in a direct line with the position of the body.
It's probably of no matter.
No footprints, you say?
The ground was iron hard, sir. No marks at all.
Then we have nothing more to learn here.
You are early, Mr. Holmes.
It is often the case with punctuality, Mr. Ferguson.
Mr. Gibson is in a meeting. He is not ready to see you.
I'll take care of them, Ferguson.
I'm very glad to see you gentlemen.
As we are a little early perhaps we can see the gun room?
A man who has his enemies.
Oh, yes if you knew him and his methods.
He sleeps with a loaded revolver in a drawer by his bed.
He's a man of violence, sir.
Have you ever seen him strike his wife?
Yes, more than once.
Our gold king does not seem to shine in private life.
Holmes, here.
That's the box that contained the murder weapon.
It was one of a pair. The other is missing.
Mr. Ferguson is sure to know that you're consorting with us.
Does that hold no alarm for you?
There's nothing he can do to hurt me now.
Perhaps you'll be so kind as to show us the schoolroom?
Where are the children?
Sent away on a visit to America.
Their Brazilian heritage from their mother's side.
Miss Dunbar must seem to be a remarkable teacher.
The children doted on her.
See, Watson, the Ricardo Franco Hills.
See the unscaleable cliffs
which time and the foot of man have never touched,
where monsters from the dawn of history might still roam.
That's Martins, the Indian hunter. I know about him.
His victims, women and children, pitiful.
Would you say that Maria Gibson was jealous of Miss Dunbar
and her influence over the children?
No, there was no love lost between them.
But that was because she could see her husband was under the lady's spell, too.
Get out of here, Bates.
Mr. Bates's views are not relevant, Mr. Holmes.
They're distorted by his infatuation for my late wife.
Who knows, Mr. Gibson, what is and what is not relevant.
You're like a surgeon who wants every symptom
before he could give a diagnosis.
As any a patient has reason in deceiving
his surgeon who conceals the facts.
I can assure you
that the relations between Miss Dunbar and myself
do not touch this case.
I'm sure that is for me to decide.
Most men have a little private reserve
in some corner of their souls where they don't welcome intruders.
You burst suddenly into mine. What is it you want?
The truth.
I met my wife when I was gold hunting in Brazil.
She was the daughter of a government official in the Manaos.
Even now as I look back with a colder eye
she had a rich passionate nature, tropical, ill-balanced,
very different from the American women I'd known.
It was only when the romance had passed
that I realized we had nothing, absolutely nothing in common.
My love faded but you know the wonderful way of women.
Do what I might, nothing could turn her from me.
If I'd been harsh to her, even brutal,
it was because I knew that if I could kill her love or turn it to hate
it would be easier for us both. But nothing changed her.
She still adored me in these English woods
as she had adored me 20 years before on the banks of the Amazon.
Then came Miss Dunbar.
She is also a very beautiful woman
and I'll admit to you that I could not live
under the same roof in daily contact with her
without feeling a passionate regard for her.
You blame me, Mr. Holmes?
I don't blame you for feeling it, I should blame you for expressing it
since she was under your protection.
Well, maybe so. I'm not pretending to be any better than I am.
I guess all of my life,
I've been a man that's reached out his hand for what he wanted.
And I never wanted anything more-
than the love and possession of that woman. I told her so.
You did, did you?
I said if I could I'd marry her, but it was out of my power.
Money was no object.
I'd do all I could to make her happy, comfortable.
Very generous of you.
Now, see here, Mr. Holmes,
I came to you on a question of evidence, not morals. I'm not asking for criticism.
It is only for the lady's sake that I take on this case at all.
Nothing that she's accused of is worse
than what you yourself have admitted,
that you've tried to ruin a defenseless girl who was under your roof.
You know some of you rich men must retort
but all the world cannot be bribed into condoning your offenses.
That's how I feel myself about it.
Now I thank God my plans did not work out.
She'd have none of it, she wanted to leave the house instantly.
But why did she not?
Others were dependent upon her
and it was no light matter for her to let them down.
When I'd sworn that she should never be molested again.
She consented to stay.
But there was another reason.
She knew the influence that she had over me,
that it was stronger than any other influence in the world.
She wanted to use it for good.
You're cruel.
You destroy good people who can't stand up to you.
Not everyone shares your strength. Can't you see that?
You call it a fair fight, but it isn't fair.
She saw it different.
She believed that a fortune for one man that was more than he needed
should not be built on 10,000 ruined men
who were left without the means of life.
With your children you show such tenderness and love.
Treat the world in the same way.
She found that I listened to what she said.
So she stayed.
And then this came along.
Mr. Gibson, can you throw any light upon it?
One explanation, I give it to you, Mr. Holmes, for what it's worth.
There's no doubt that my wife was bitterly jealous.
She might have planned to murder Miss Dunbar,
or threaten her with a gun and so frighten her into leaving us.
Maybe there was a scuffle.
The gun went off and shot the woman who held it.
Yes, it is a possibility.
It is the only alternative to deliberate murder.
But she utterly denies it.
What is against such a supposition?
Miss Dunbar herself.
She has just one day left before the trial.
You must grant me permission to visit her once more.
If ever in your life you showed your powers, Holmes,
put them into this case now.
But I cannot promise you
that my conclusions will be such as you desire.
Come, Watson.
We have several vital questions to ask this young lady
and I must confess that the case would seem to be
a very black one against her if it were not for one thing.
What is that?
The finding of a pistol in her wardrobe.
That seems to be the most damning incident of all.
Not so, Watson. It is my only firm ground for hope.
We must look for consistency.
Where there is a want of it, we must suspect deception.
Come on, Holmes.
Miss Dunbar is depending on us.
Watson,
visualize yourself in the character of Miss Dunbar
with a cold premeditated fashion is about to get rid of her rival.
What would be your actions and your thinking?
Well, I've written a note. The victim has come.
I've taken the weapon from the gunroom.
The crime is done.
Workman like and complete, and now the weapon.
Of course.
Precisely, Watson.
Those depths would hide it forever.
Your best friends would hardly call you a schemer,
yet I cannot picture you carrying it home and putting it in your wardrobe,
the very first place that would be searched.
This revolver for example she disclaims all knowledge of it.
You're saying that it was placed in her wardrobe, but by who?
By someone who wished to incriminate her.
Ah, Cummings.
Miss Dunbar we have had lengthy conversations
with Mr. Gibson and he has informed us
of your relations with him and of your innocence in the matter.
But you need not pain yourself with that part of the story.
But we do need to know something,
of your feelings towards, Mrs. Gibson.
I had no wish to wrong, Mrs. Gibson.
But she loved her husband so vividly in a physical sense
that she could hardly understand
the mental even spiritual tie which held him to me
or imagined that it was only my desire to influence his power for good
which kept me under his roof.
I can see now that I was wrong to stay.
Nothing could have justified me in remaining
where I was a cause of such unhappiness.
My client may be loathe to mention it
but she has managed to persuade Mr. Gibson
to finance a mission of mercy to resettle tribes.
In particular, the Bororo Indians
who have fallen victim to unscrupulous gold and rubber prospectors.
The venture is thriving.
We saw your pictures in the school.
Like so many of those warrior Indians
Mr. Gibson can sometimes give people a misleading impression.
Now, Miss Dunbar,
will you tell us exactly what happened that evening?
I received a note from Mrs. Gibson in the morning.
It implored me to meet her at the bridge after dinner.
This note, did you keep it?
No. She asked me to destroy it and to hide my answer
at the sundial in the garden.
I saw no reason for such secrecy
but she was very much afraid of her husband
who treated her with a harshness by which I frequently reproached him.
I can only imagine that she did not wish him to know of our interview.
Yet she kept your reply very carefully.
Yes, I was surprised to hear she had it in her hand when she died.
Well, what happened then?
She was waiting for me.
So, you've come.
Never did I realize until that moment how much she hated me.
She was like a mad woman.
I think she was mad with a deep power of deception
which insane people may have.
You're cruel, you have no heart.
You don't know how to love. You have no passion.
How else could she have met me without concern every day.
She was standing there on the bridge shrieking her curses at me.
English whore.
I curse the day that you were born.
And yet presuming that she met her death
shortly after you left. You heard no shot?
No, I heard nothing.
I was so agitated and horrified by her terrible outbreak
that I rushed to get back to the peace of my own room.
I was incapable of noticing anything that happened.
Your own room, did you leave it again before the next morning?
Yes, when they brought the poor creature back to the house.
Did Mr. Gibson seem to you much perturbed?
He is a very strong self-contained man.
I do not think he would ever show his emotions on the surface.
But you, who knew him so well.
Yes, I could see that he was deeply concerned.
Now...
We come to the all important point.
This pistol that was found in your room, you'd never seen it before?
Never, I swear it.
When was it found?
Next morning when the police made their search.
Yes, among your clothes?
Yes, at the bottom of my wardrobe in one of the drawers.
And you cannot guess how long it had been there.
It could not have been there the morning before
because I tidied out the wardrobe.
So you're suggesting that someone came into your room
and placed it there in order to incriminate you?
It must have been so.
When?
Well it could only have been at mealtime
or else during the hours when I would be in the schoolroom with the children.
As you were when you received the note.
Yes, from that time onward for the whole morning.
Thank you, Miss Dunbar.
Is there any other point which could help me in my investigation?
I could think of none.
Holmes, might I have a word with you in private?
Forgive me, Miss Dunbar.
Holmes, I'd like to put you my case for believing
that Mr. Gibson is the murderer of his wife.
We have a man who by his own admission
is used to breaking people who stand in his path,
well his wife stood in his path.
But then Miss Dunbar rejected him. Now what better-
than to kill the one and incriminate the other?
To kill the two birds with the one stone, so to speak.
You don't believe that Gibson's confession was sincere?
Wasn't it Bates who said he was plausible and cunning?
His confession was a clever means to put us off the scent.
Think of it like this.
He somehow discovers that his wife has arranged a meeting.
During the day he takes the two pistols from the box.
One he conceals in the drawer of her wardrobe
after discharging one barrel,
which he could easily do in the woods without attracting attention.
He is alone all that evening.
He sees Miss Dunbar return and grasps his opportunity.
He commits the deed and flings the murder weapon far into the lake.
Holmes.
Watson, I have been sluggish in mind
and wanting in that mixture of imagination and reality
which is the basis of my art.
You have put me entirely to shame.
You'll be hearing from me, Mr. Cummings
with the help of the god of justice and my colleague, Dr. Watson.
I will give you a case that will make England ring.
Miss Dunbar you have my assurance that the clouds are lifting
and the light of truth is breaking through.
Come, Watson, come.
We need our good friend Sergeant Coventry, a ball of stout twine,
and a grappling hook.
Grappling hook?
Watson, I have some recollection
that you go armed on these little excursions of ours.
Just as well for you that I do.
More than once my revolver has been a good friend to you.
You have little care of your own safety.
Yes, I am inclined to be absent minded in these matters.
Do you have your revolver on you?
It's heavy, remarkably heavy.
Solid bit of work.
You know I believe this is going to have a very intimate connection
with the mystery that we're investigating. Would you mind unloading it?
Will you be at home this evening, Mr. Gibson?
I shall have some news for you.
You have half a day, Mr. Holmes.
You have seen me miss my mark before, Watson.
I have an instinct for such things,
but it has sometimes played me false.
We can but try, will you both stand exactly where the body lay?
Your theory about the gold king though admirable in its psychology
did not quite adhere to the facts.
Visualize yourself in the character of a woman
who in a cold premeditated fashion is about to get rid of her rival.
I mean of course, Mrs. Maria Gibson.
For all your deductions about Gibson being the perpetrator of this crime,
substitute his wife. Imagine that it was she-
who took the pistols from the gunroom,
who fired the single shot in the woods,
who placed the gun in Miss Dunbar's wardrobe.
Cold, crafty,
premeditated, down to the last detail.
Was it ever an exact demonstration?
My revolver, Holmes.
A vindictive woman,
a creature of the tropics, passionate, ill-balanced.
Disguising her own crime and fostering
a charge of murder upon an innocent victim.
You have helped a remarkable woman, Holmes,
and a formidable man.
And if it seems that unlikely they should join forces?
Naturally, I would wish them well.