03x06 - The Priory School

[bunniefuu]

There's a gentleman downstairs. Shh.

Ask him to wait a moment, Mrs. Hudson.

He's most insistent. Shh.

Easy now. Easy.

I must apologize.

I have been a little overwrought.

I'm a doctor, sir, and I must insist that you relax yourself and say nothing until you have eaten.

Thank you.

If I might have a biscuit and a glass of milk, I have no doubt I should soon be better.

Mrs. Hudson is preparing something at this moment.

Please, please, please forgive this weakness.

I really must...

Mr. Holmes.

At your service.

Master of Arts.

Doctor of Philosophy.

Principal of the Priory School.

It is not every day, Doctor Huxtable, that so distinguished a castaway as yourself is beached upon my hearthrug.

In speculating what storm had blown you here, I took the liberty of searching your person.

I hope you will forgive me.

Oh yes, yes of course.

Please, sit down.

Your watch.

Unblemished for at least thirty years, suddenly this morning scratched, when you thrust those coins, unthinkingly into your waistcoat pocket.

The stern habit of a lifetime trampled underfoot.

A small occurrence perhaps but on this small I think in the way that a vibrating needle may signal an earthquake.

The state of your beard demonstrates a considerable disruption to your routine.

Three days ago?

Just so. Just so.

Mr. Holmes, I beg you to accompany me north to Mackleton immediately.

A matter of the utmost importance.

Ah, I regret.

Doctor Watson and I are extremely pressed just at the moment.

I'm retained in the case of the Ferrers Documents, and Doctor Watson tells me that he's run off his feet by this recent epidemic of the scarlet fever.

And then of course, there's Abergavenny m*rder coming up for trial.

No, only a very important issue could call us away at the present.

Important, sir?

Important?

I dare say you've heard of the Duke of Holdernesse?

The former cabinet minister?

More than that, Watson.

The letters after his name, huh, almost half the alphabet.

One of the greatest subjects of the crown, aye, Doctor Huxtable?

One of the greatest and probably one of the wealthiest.

He is also, I'm proud to say, my neighbor.

Holdernesse Hall, his countryseat, is across from the valley from the Priory School.

The duke is an intensely solitary man.

He appalls the prospect of public scrutiny but such is his anxiety in this matter that His Grace is prepared to write a check for 5000 pounds to see the business solved and another thousand pounds to see justice visited upon the villains.

That is how important it is, sir.

A princely offer, Doctor Huxtable.

You have failed in describing the villainy.

Forgive me.

Lord Saltire, the duke's son, his only child, has been abducted.

From the Priory School?

Yes.

When he was in your care?

Quite.

And this abduction happened three days ago?

Last Saturday night.

Why have you waited so long before consulting me?

His Grace has a deep horror of his family unhappiness being dragged before the world.

The police have been requested by the duke to proceed with such caution but they...

I see.

This affair has been deplorably handled.

I feel it and admit it.

What form of the demand for ransom take?

There has been none. You see--

No demand for ransom?

None.

It is one of the most perplexing aspects of the business for the boy was not alone in his flight.

Herr Heidegger, the German master, is also missing, as indeed, by the way, is his bicycle.

If he has abducted the boy, why has no demand for money been received?

Heidegger came to me from Switzerland with the very best references.

Was any other bicycle missing?

Oh no.

You're certain? Quite.

Mr. Aveling checked all the bicycles.

Doctor Huxtable, do you really mean to suggest that this German master rode off upon his bicycle in the dead of night bearing the boy in his arms?

No.

Then what is this theory in your mind?

The bicycle may have been a blind.

He may have hidden it somewhere, and the pair gone off on foot.

Surely he would have hidden a couple of bicycles if he desired to give that impression.

Yes, I suppose he would.

Of course, he would, Doctor Huxtable.

This blind theory of yours will not do.

However, it is an admirable starting point for an investigation.

Watson, would you send for the cab immediately?

Now Holmes?

Set and pack.

We got just enough time to catch the overnight train from St. Pancras.

Doctor Huxtable, I shall do a little work at your doors.

Perhaps, the trail is not so cold but the two old hounds like Watson and myself make get a sniff on it.

I imagine the arrival of Lord Saltire at your school must have been quite a feather in your cap.

My proudest moment, Mr. Holmes.

Ever since Blackwell's published Huxtable's Sidelights on Horace, a notable little success in his day.

You may have heard of it.

No. How old is the boy?

Nine.

And he's been with you how long?

Oh since the beginning of the winter term.

An unusual boy, he seemed to be fitting in well.

He, um...

Yes?

I was about to say he was not entirely happy at home.

The duke's marriage has not been a peaceful one.

It ended in separation by mutual consent last year.

The duchess has returned to her father's palazzo in Venice.

This picture, of the Duke's marriage, how did you come by it?

Is it common knowledge?

I've had some confidential talks with Mr. Wilder, the duke's secretary.

He's been most helpful.

And I suppose it has been established that the boy has not returned to his mother in Italy?

Oh yes. Yes it has.

I cannot tell you, Mr. Holmes, what a relief it is to me--

Watson? Coming!

Your picnic, sir.

Mrs. Hudson, how did you guess?

Experience, Mr. Holmes.

Well, that means the two doctors can picnic away to their hearts content on the train.

Even I may find my appetite is keener for the few days in the bracing atmosphere of the peat country.

I think I will do myself no injustice when I say that the Priory School is the most select preparatory school in England.

Lord Leverstoke, the Earl of Blackwater, Sir Cathcart Soames, they all have entrusted their sons to me.

You can't see Holdernesse Hall from here, but there's a very fine view from the chapel tower.

Salvete discipuli.

I will begin with the boy's room.

From his father.

It arrived on the morning of his disappearance.

Had he received one from Italy?

Not recently.

Where is the letter now?

It cannot be found.

It must have been on the boy's person when he was abducted.

Who sleeps in the adjoining room?

Salvete discipuli.

I know he's a sort of chap I dare say who could sleep through a thunderstorm.

I don't think he would, sir.

Really and why is that do you suppose?

There's a mouse, sir.

In the wainscot, sir.

And it wakes us both up, sir.

Sometimes, sir.

Mouse?

So any noise from Lord Saltire's room...

Well, the door creaks, sir.

We always hear the door.

On the night of the disappearance, did you hear anything then?

No, sir.

We couldn't even hear the crying.

Crying?

Yes, sir.

He sometimes cries, sir.

Sometimes, sir.

Thank you, boys.

You have found nothing in the grounds?

There's no knowing what I have found.

The trail is cold.

Headmaster!

Headmaster!

The Duke of Holdernesse is here, headmaster.

Thank you, Mr. Aveling.

With Mr. Wilder.

Mr. Holmes?

Yes.

The Duke is waiting, Mr. Holmes.

That will never do.

Your Grace, Mr. Wilder.

I called yesterday, Doctor Huxtable, but I was too late to prevent your starting for London.

His Grace is surprised, Doctor Huxtable, that you should have invited Mr. Holmes to undertake an investigation without consulting him first.

Well, I thought that the police had failed.

It is by no means certain that the police have failed.

Yes, but surely, Mr. Wilder--

You're well aware, Doctor Huxtable, how anxious His Grace is to avoid all public scandal.

He prefers to take as few people as possible into his confidence.

I'm sorry, Mr. Wilder.

The matter is easily remedied.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes can return to London by the morning train.

Hardly that.

Hardly that.

I enjoy your invigorating northern air.

I shall spend, at any rate, a few days upon your moors.

Who knows I may at least find Herr Heidegger's bicycle, if nothing else.

This is not a trivial matter, Mr. Holmes.

I am gratified that you think not, your Grace.

If there was meaning in that remark, Mr. Holmes, I'm afraid it escaped me.

Your only child has disappeared.

Your hopes, your future, your noble family itself is threatened with disillusion.

Your point, sir?

I ask your Grace, what is modesty to this, to your child's life?

What is reputation?

Not then it might be replied, what is continuance without honor?

However, I believe you are largely in the right, Mr. Holmes.

If you refer to the constraints I have placed upon the activities of the police, then perhaps I have imposed too much.

I have a morbid fear of the public gaze.

It would be foolish not to avail ourselves of Mr. Holmes' services, James, now that he is here.

Mr. Holmes?

Your Grace?

Perhaps you would like to come and stay with us at Holdernesse Hall.

I thank your Grace, but I think for the purposes of my investigation, it would be wiser for me to remain here at the scene of the mystery.

As you wish.

Mr. Wilder or myself will be available to provide you with any assistance that you might require.

Might I ask whether you have formed any explanation as to the mysterious disappearance of your son?

No sir, I have not.

He is a fine boy, Mr. Holmes.

And how long has he been in your class?

Since his arrival here.

Did he speak much of his family?

Not much.

It's my belief that he missed his mother and something of his father's reticence in him, you understand?

The separation between the Duke and the Duchess, did he talk about that?

Not really. It's a little mysterious.

The boy insisted that they loved each other very much.

You don't think that could be whistling in the wind to cheer himself up?

No, he is a very realistic child.

Ah, but not a very realistic family.

My research shows they once provided a member of the Hellfire Club.

You wouldn't know, I suppose, what time Herr Heidegger retired to his room on the night of the disappearance?

Not really but quite late. After eleven.

He was duty round master that night.

You're a cyclist, I believe?

Yes, oh yes.

Did Lord Saltire ever accompany you?

No he is not yet able to retain his balance.

You wouldn't, I suppose, happen to know the make of tires on Herr Heidegger's bicycle?

Certainly.

A lovely bicycle by the way, made in Bremen.

The tires were Palmer, you know the ones with longitudinal tread.

I know them well.

Thank you.

Doubly helpful.

Pleasure, Mr. Holmes.

Dinner will be at 8:00.

I beg your pardon.

Holmes?

This case grows upon me, Watson.

There are decidedly points of interest in connection with it.

Here, look at this map.

There are certain geographical features which may have a good deal to do with our investigation.

This dark square is the Priory School.

This, the main road with no side turning for a mile either way.

To the north of the school, the land rises slowly.

To the south, a large district of arable land, with high walls and hedgerows, impossible territory for a bicycle.

Oh what did you discover at Oakbourne?

Well, the police had reports from all over the place on a man and a boy seen together.

They completed their investigation on the sightings only this morning.

With what result?

Useless.

None bore the slightest resemblance to the boy or the German master.

Excellent.

This mass of mistaken sightings, Watson, it confirms my suspicion.

I don't believe they used the road.

That powerful curiosity of quiet places would surely have found them out.

I don't think they used the road at all.

But the, uh, the bicycle?

A good cyclist does not need a road, Watson.

The moor is intersected with paths.

I remember the moon was at the full.

Now, it is to the north that our quest must lie.

You have done well, Watson.

Dinner's soon, you'll be happy to hear.

But I do have just one point on which I need to be satisfied.

Herr Heidegger's room.

Ten minutes.

Holmes has been delving into the origins of the Holdernesse family.

Like many ancient mines, it sprang from a very muddy source.

Muddy, Doctor?

Well, not to be too delicate about it, they were cattle thieves.

A warrior class, ingenious, daring, but the basis of their wealth was running off with other people's cows.

Holmes even tells me that Holdernesse has furnished one of the madder members of the Hellfire Club.

What is the matter, Doctor Huxtable?

It is nothing.

But it's clearly something.

I expect too much, I'm sure.

It is a fault, I'm sure.

Tell us your expectations?

I do not expect miracles.

I think I am not a man who demands the miraculous, but you have discovered nothing.

We have advanced not a jot since the moment we left London.

Although indeed that is not true.

You have discovered two things, both falsehoods.

One a squalid piece of gossip and the other an apocryphal and insulting fancy about the origins of my great patron.

I did not employ you to come here to blacken the name of the Holdernesse's, Mr. Holmes.

Calm yourself, Doctor Huxtable.

We have in fact, found some way.

I can, for example, describe to you in some detail what took place at this school on that fateful night.

Also the behavior of your excellent and faithful German master.

Faithful? Heidegger?

What, sir?

Herr Heidegger retired to his room soon after 11 o'clock.

He was the duty master that night.

Now, my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson, will impersonate.

Heidegger has still two hours of work ahead of him, and it's been a long day.

He allows himself the comfort of removing his jacket.

He moves across to the chest by the door and pours himself a glass of sherry,

badly needed fortification for the task that lies ahead.

He collects the candle and moves to his desk to correct 22 exercise books, which contain not only grammatical exercises but also a lengthy composition.

You see my point, Doctor Huxtable?

It would have been well after midnight if he had done nothing else, when his candle fails him.

The candles are kept in the chest by the door.

He rises from the desk to fetch another one, but he cannot seem to find them.

So he turns to the window to draw the curtains to see better by the moonlight.

Across the rooftops in the gate tower, the boy has been waiting for darkness, knowing that his flight must not be observed.

Herr Heidegger watches as the boy hurries across the ledge to keep his prearranged meeting by the river.

Sensing the enormity of what was taking place, Heidegger runs to the door, knocking over what remains of his glass of sherry as he goes.

I see.

Thank you.

It seems I misjudged you.

The wisdom of his choice to pursue the boy is questionable.

I believe his fate may be sealed.

You allow me, Mr. Holmes?

You mean--

I hope not, but if my reasoning is correct, then 1 do fear for him.

And the boy?

The key to that, Doctor Huxtable, remains out there

beyond the Drover's Bridge.

Poor beast.

Carrion crows.

They've earned their name.

So, we're assuming the boy was taken away on horseback, are we not?

Certainly!

Otherwise, Heidegger would not have needed a bicycle to pursue them.

But the only tracks we've found are cattle, Holmes.

Holmes?

Holmes.

A track, Watson!

A track.

A bicycle?

Certainly a bicycle.

But not the bicycle.

I'm familiar with 42 different impressions left by tires.

This is a Dunlop with a patch upon the outer cover.

Heidegger's tires were Palmer's.

This is not Heidegger's track.

No.

Whose, then? Whose indeed?

Watson.

These are Palmer tracks.

Heidegger has been this way.

Absolutely extraordinary.

Dunlop tracks for 150 yards.

They vanish, and Palmer tracks quite clear, leading to these rocks. They vanish, too.

Not a sign of a horse anywhere.

Watson, you have a blazing talent for observing the obvious.

We should've brought some luncheon.

Anyway, what was Herr Heidegger cycling after, cows?

Presumably, they didn't abduct the child on the back of a cow.

All traces of horses obliterated.

With much evidence, the two bicycles have vanished into thin air.

Impossible.

Precisely.

It is impossible as we have stated it.

Therefore, in some respect, we must have stated it wrong.

Ah.

There's a hostelry marked on the further edge of the moor.

Holmes?

There's a hostelry on the Chesterfield Road.

Yes, if we, uh, if we keep on this line, we should come up to it.

Well, that's where I'm going to try my luck.

I'm hungry.

Holmes.

Hmm?

Lunch!

Of course, my dear fellow, you must be starving!

Now, observe that map.

You will see that there is a hostelry about three miles in this direction.

We'll need some food if we're going to face the Duke of Holdernesse later.

Nothing?

Nothing.

I must tell His Grace.

Nothing?

Nothing.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

It's locked.

Primitive but forceful, as sporting portraits go.

Mr. Reuben Hayes?

How do you know my name?

It's printed over the door.

We were looking for some refreshment.

Were you?

And would be obliged if you could furnish it.

Would you?

We would.

You best ask the woman.

Insufferable lout.

If we're going all the way to Holdernesse Hall this afternoon, let us try to hire those unprepossessing beasts.

What do you say?

How far are you taking them?

Just to the hall and back.

You know the way, I dare say.

I worked there for 15 years. Ah.

Yeah, you can take them.

My word, Mr. Hayes, you have injured yourself.

It's naught.

I am a doctor, sir, and I assure you it is.

You should have it attended.

How did you come by it?

One of my dogs did it.

Those scratches.

What about them?

Well, to judge at a glance, they were... that far apart.

What animal would make such a scratch?

Probably a descendant of champion jack.

Cockfighting is forbidden by law and has been for 50 years.

Many things are forbidden by law.

What law is there in such places as these?

Ah, excellent, Mrs. Hayes.

Thank you.

What have you cooked for me?

Black pudding, swedes, and nips.

How is it, Watson?

It is disgusting, Holmes.

That woman.

She's frightened of something and more than that husband of hers.

Deception upon deception.

What is it intended to hide?

Deception?

Ah, Watson, my horse is lame.

Easy, boy.

That's odd.

Old shoes, new nails.

Gentlemen.

His Grace will see you now.

Ah! Mr. Wilder.

Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson.

Welcome to Holdernesse Hall.

His Grace will be joining us shortly.

We are placing high hopes on your skills, Mr. Holmes.

Did you bring news?

There is just one point on which I need to be satisfied.

Yes, Mr. Holmes?

It concerns the duke's private correspondence.

As His Grace's private secretary, perhaps I can be of some assistance.

I believe His Grace wrote to his son upon the day this incident occurred.

No, I believe he wrote on the day before.

Yes, but he would've received it upon that day.

Yes, quite probably.

Might there have been anything in that letter which would have prompted the boy to run away?

Oh, I hardly think so.

Anyway, he would have run here if anywhere.

Or to his mother in Italy?

No, sir.

Lord Saltire would realize the impossibility of achieving such a goal even if abetted by this German.

He is an intelligent and practical child.

And yet he cries in his sleep.

Did His Grace post the letter himself?

His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters.

The letter was laid with others upon the study table, and I myself put them there.

The only other person who would handle them would be Rivers, who delivers the daily post to the lodge.

And you're sure this letter was among them?

Oh, yes.

I observed it.

And what have you observed, Mr. Holmes?

How does your investigation progress?

Are you to disappoint me?

I hope still to render Your Grace happier and myself a richer man.

But what have you discovered?

It is mostly a matter of clarification.

My belief is that the boy was tempted out of the school by a prearrangement, and I suspect that his mother may have been the bait.

The German master observed his departure and set off in pursuit.

We tracked the passage of his bicycle across the moors with much difficulty.

It is almost as if the tracks were deliberately expunged by someone...

Mr. Holmes?

Someone driving cattle.

You don't happen to know if the cattle on the moor...

What about them?

I hope you have seen none.

We cannot winter cattle outside in our upland climate.

They will not be out of the yard for, oh, at least another two weeks.

Then I have been as blind as a beetle.

I thank Your Grace.

Old shoes and new nails! Old shoes and new nails!

Holmes, there's something you should see.

It is a remarkable cow that trots, canters, and gallops!

Did you see those horseshoes?

I saw them!

Marauding powers of Holdernesse shoed their horses with cloven horseshoes to escape detection.

Reuben Hayes took advantage of a piece of local history.

It's bad, Watson, bad.

Those vultures of the north mark the spot.

German master.

What's left of him.

Hello!

Hello!

Hello!

Hello! Hello!

Skin and blood.

Only a microscope would tell if it's human.

But consistent, no doubt, with the scratches on Hayes' neck.

Oh, yes.

Cause of death?

Strangulation.

The larynx is quite crushed.

That shepherd can be our messenger to the Priory school over the news of this tragedy.

We must proceed on foot, Watson.

I was warm at that inn, warm, as the children say.

The trail grows colder every step I take away from it!

How was I supposed to know where to put the body...

It's all over now, Arthur.

Reuben Hayes.

Let's hope we're not too late.

A Dunlop with a patch on the outer cover!

Help! help!

Have no fear, Mrs. Hayes.

I'm satisfied that you had no liking for this business and that you acted under coercion.

Someone came for the boy.

The duke's secretary, Mr. Wilder?

Which way did they go?

Across the moor?

Toward the Chesterfield Road.

Will Buick's cottage.

Excellent, Mrs. Hayes.

I must alert the duke's household, Watson.

You are now the boy's guardian angel.

Come on.

I fancy I see Your Grace's checkbook upon your desk.

I'd be glad if you would make me out a check for £6,000.

Perhaps, it would be best if you were to cross it.

Capital and Counties Bank, Oxford Street branch, are my agents.

I do not possess the temperament, Mr. Holmes, that appreciates the kind of acidulous pleasantry that clearly amuses you.

I am sorry, but I do not see how James, Mr. Wilder, could possibly be implicated in this business, and you have urged no proof of it.

But I possess the proof. It is beyond debate.

The mud is scarcely dry upon the cloven horseshoes in your casements.

Why do you doubt my word?

You seem to suffer from a blindness to your own interest which borders on madness.

Your Grace, those portraits in the hall of you and your father as young men, there your family lineaments are very clear.

How long has Mr. Wilder been in your service?

What is your meaning?

How dare you, sir!

You do not understand.

You are a barbarian.

You will never...

Please leave me immediately.

1 will...l...

Then, it is as I suspected.

Mr. James Wilder is your son.

When I was a very young man, Mr. Holmes, I loved with such a love that comes only once in a lifetime.

I offered the lady marriage, but she refused it on the grounds that such a match might mar my career.

Had she lived, I would certainly never have married anyone else, but she d*ed and left this one child, James, whom, for her sake, I have tended and cared for.

I could not acknowledge paternity to the world, but in all other ways, I have treated him like my son.

He has required but not warranted a father's forgiveness many times.

And I have forgiven.

I have forgiven.

I have forgiven much.

Oh, Your Grace, you have done all you can for Mr. Wilder.

You must realize that he is lost to you.

He's conspired to abduct Lord Saltire.

He's an accessory to a m*rder, however unwittingly.

He must be found before he's tempted to a crime even more terrible.

He must be found before you lose the son that is left to you.

Rivers.

You are to organize a search of the moor westwards in a line from the temple to the pavilion.

You are to employ the entire staff without exception.

You are looking for my son, Lord Saltire.

If you find Mr. Wilder, please see that he is detained and brought to me.

Wilder intercepted your letter and substituted a note which deceived your son into believing that he was to see his mother.

The murderous Hayes was his paid accomplice, but the police have been alerted.

Hayes will not escape.

Watson!

I tracked them all over the moor, but they...they disappeared.

I searched the area.

But it's as if the earth just swallowed them up.

With my research into your family history, I seem to recall mention of a huge limestone cavern where the stolen cattle were penned.

The cathedral.

Come on.

Come on!

Ah!

Any offer?

No!

You shall not have him!

Father!

Son. Father!

Father!

Father!

James!

Ah!

I was disposed to love Francesca not with a boy's passion but with a man's love.

My marriage to her foundered on James' jealousy.

As long as I could see his mother's face and manner in him, James knew he could keep me from the love I owed my wife.

Even his cruelty to Arthur, I could not send him away even for that.

So, I sent Arthur away instead.

What did he hope to achieve by kidnapping his brother?

Money?

Legitimacy?

And power, power over me.

He delighted in exercising power over me, whom he knew to have denied him power.

But you suspected that he was behind the abduction.

In my darkest moments, yes.

Yet somehow, I hoped to save him.

Well, a long penance, it has seemed.

I can only hope that Francesca will forgive me.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Your Grace.

This is a king's ransom.

You have given me back my future.