Oh, my God, no.
Life may be stranger than fiction.
It is often more disturbing.
Before I wrote my stories of the great detective, I had access to a terrifying world of mystery, and m*rder.
My companion and teacher on this journey, was Dr. Joseph Bell.
Here in this extraordinary man was my inspiration, but it is only now that I have chosen to reveal, the dark beginnings of Sherlock Holmes.
I shan't be long.
Can I see him?
Perhaps, if he's well.
Did I say there were plums, among the fruit, and peaches?
All, very good for you, Father.
I don't want any fruit, Arthur.
I want to go home.
You know you can't.
Why can't I, Arthur?
That's what I never understand.
You're here, because you're ill, Father.
I'm not ill, Arthur.
Do I look ill?
Do I sound ill?
I'm as well as you are, Arthur.
Now, we've been through all of this.
I'm sorry, Arthur, I'm making you feel bad.
After you've come all the way up from the Southsea to visit me, I treat you like this.
Oh, forgive me.
There's nothing to forgive, Father.
Did I say I'm to see Dr. Bell?
So, you didn't really come to see me at all.
You came to see Bell.
Is that why you came to Edinburgh?
-- Is it?
I'm to be second fiddle to Joseph Bell.
That's the truth of it, isn't it, Arthur?
Really I think I'm second fiddle now.
Father, please, stop it.
Your fruit, I don't want it.
I don't want it, I want to go home.
I want to go home.
Calm yourself, calm yourself.
No, you will not hurt him.
You will not hurt him, you will not.
I want to go home.
Your father's having to be pacified, Mr. Doyle, for his own good and for everyone else's.
Now, if you have any objections to that perhaps you'd like to take the old gentleman home and look after him yourself.
He didn't seem to want your fruit, Mr. Doyle.
God, I told you not to come.
I told you not to come.
The mistake we make in our dealings with children, Doyle, is to underestimate them.
In my work with the young, I never cease to be astonished of their resilience.
Are you saying it was right that Innes should have seen his father like that?
I am saying that he will recover from the experience.
And when he does, he may see the sense of listening to his big brother, for a change.
Hmm, we shall see.
So, your telegram, said there'd been a m*rder?
The victim's name is Henry Starr, son of Sir John Starr.
Did it happen?
Henry Starr was walking home from a business meeting.
He was viciously attacked and k*lled.
The m*rder then robbed Starr of his valuables, and disappeared unseen into the night.
When was Starr m*rder?
A month ago.
And Sir John Starr is getting impatient?
He's been badgering the Deputy Chief Constable Samuel Fergusson.
Sam's response has been to ask me to lend a hand.
And, and me?
The officer investigating Starr's m*rder is one Lieutenant Daniel Blaney.
He's not likely to welcome my involvement.
I worked with him some time ago.
I had been assured that he was a first rate policeman who could smell out a felon's guilt from a mile away.
Unfortunately, he could also smell a bottle of whiskey from a mile away, and, through his ineptitude, the m*rder we were pursuing managed to escape justice.
Reluctantly, I was obliged to recommend his dismissal.
But I still don't quite see...
He bears me a grudge, so I need a go between.
He's still there.
Lieutenant Blaney I presume.
You really think he's going to listen to me?
That is my hope.
Sergeant Clarke has been recently asked to assist Lieutenant Blaney.
So, Joe, have you made up your mind about helping us poor bobbies?
I will give whatever assistance I can.
Will Dr. Doyle be assisting also?
Dr. Doyle is a student of my method.
And I hope to learn more by, seeing it in practice.
Oh I see.
Hope that is acceptable?
You'll get no objection from me.
Joe, your early thoughts on the k*lling of Mr. Starr if you please.
I have none.
At the moment, I know no more than the rest of the newspaper reading public.
You'll have to let me have all the facts in your possession, and, any physical evidence that exists.
We are looking for a robber.
Starr's money was taken along with some jewelry.
When the thief tries to sell his swag, as he shall, I shall be informed and I shall have my man.
And until I am informed, there shall be no rest for the wicked of this city.
No, gentlemen, you have my word on that.
Be so kind as to appraise Doctors Doyle and Bell with the facts of the case, and see they are given our physical evidence.
And now, gentlemen, if I may be excused, I have to get home.
Well, I thought that went splendidly.
Ah, Doyle, good morning.
Henry Starr's clothes, I take it?
Smell that glove, the right glove.
And now, smell the jacket.
All is not as the police first thought.
They have failed to smell what is under their noses.
Those clothes, should have been returned to Sir John Starr.
After his mother died, Jenny raised my son.
She's just come to terms with his death and now look at her.
Couldn't my son's clothes, have been returned sooner?
We should leave her to grieve.
SO, yourself and Dr. Bell, what exactly...
We're the, the response to the pressure, you've been putting on the authorities.
Why two medical men?
Well, Dr. Bell has developed an investigative method into criminal acts.
Will this method catch my son's k*ller, Dr. Doyle?
No effort will be spared in the hunt for this man, Sir John.
May I, ask what he was like, your son?
You can ask, but I cannot answer.
I'm a very wealthy man, Doctor.
But during the time I took, to acquire my wealth, I allowed my son to become a stranger to me.
Oh, we shared this house.
We even dined together nightly.
I never really knew my dining companion.
He seemed to be making a success of business, not that, that was ever discussed in any real detail.
You find that deplorable, Doctor?
I mean, your father would be able to tell you what you were like, I'm sure.
No my my father's been ill for a long time, Sir John.
I'm sorry, at least he has an excuse.
Well, I may not have known my son, Doctor, but I do know that no one had the right to take his life, and I do know that I want his k*ller brought to justice.
There'll be a handsome reward, for whoever achieves that.
Bringing your son's k*ller to justice will be reward enough.
One last thing, Sir John.
You would know if your son smoked or not?
No, no, he didn't smoke.
Is that important?
The supposition is that the k*ller lies in wait in this alley.
Starr arrives, his assailant strikes him down and robs him.
But, gentlemen, in robbing his victim, the k*ller drops his gloves.
The k*ller's gloves?
I thought they were Starr's gloves.
Yet Starr's clothing is free of tobacco odors.
And as Sir John Starr has confirmed, his son did not smoke.
But, even if they are the k*ller's gloves, what does it change?
On the contrary, it changes everything.
In all my encounters with the Edinburgh underworld, I never met a footpad yet, wearing fine chamois gloves.
Stolen from some other rich victim.
Surely no footpad would keep the gloves in case they could be identified by their owner and used to incriminate the thief.
But Henry Starr was robbed.
What about that, Joe?
Or are you saying it was set up to look like a robbery?
This was not the work of a professional robber, but of someone who had the money, the good gloves, good cigars.
Starr's social equal, and unless we're dealing with a madman, someone who had a motive other than robbery.
Do we really have to listen to all of this, Sam?
All because of a pair of damned gloves.
Lieutenant, in the medical profession it's not uncommon to call for a second opinion.
There's no shame seen in this.
I'll wager Dr. Bell's never accepted a second opinion in his life, at least not with good grace.
As a matter of fact, I think I can assure you that Dr. Bell is perfectly amenable to second opinions.
You see, in looking for tobacco trace, Dr. Bell examined the right glove first because, most of us are right handed whereas, I examined the left, glove also and, again found a strong odor of tobacco.
Doyle, he's ambidextrous.
So I took a closer look, and microscopic examination revealed something more.
There were faint singe marks on the leather.
I would light a cigar thus, with the flame in my dominant hand, the right, whilst I use the left hand to protect the flame against the wind.
So any singeing, therefore, would normally appear here on the left glove.
However, in this case as with the tobacco odor, there are singe marks on both gloves, indicating that their owner could light his cigar with either hand.
Well done, Doyle, well done.
-- Thank you.
And, may we not, push our analysis even further.
May we not ask ourselves about the smoking habits of a man whose gloves so reek of cigars.
May we not surmise that this is because he does most of his smoking out of doors, which in turn, is because whoever he shares his home with, objects, to tobacco smoke.
It's a reasonable supposition.
So where does it leave us, Joe?
I think we should inquire of the observant Dr. Doyle.
Well, I think we could usefully start by speaking to the last person to see Henry Starr alive.
That would be a Mr. Jeremy Orde.
He's a lawyer.
They had some kind of business meeting.
I'm not sure I can tell you anything I didn't tell Sergeant Clarke, gentlemen.
And what did you tell the Sergeant, Mr. Orde?
Ah, what time Mr. Starr arrived here, what time he left.
Mr. Orde, I know it seems likely but robbery, is not the motive for Mr. Starr's m*rder.
To find the real motive, we have to begin, looking more closely into his personal and business affairs, you understand.
So perhaps you can begin by telling us what business it was you had with Mr. Starr on the night of his death.
Bad business, gentlemen.
For years, I've looked after the affairs of a family called West.
They own the mill in the Borders and had offices here in Edinburgh.
The mill was latterly run by Alicia West, the last surviving member of the family and, she ran it as well as it had ever been run.
And then Alicia found herself a husband, and the man that she found, was a monster.
He b*at her mercilessly, drank her money and, spent it on other women.
And Jack Craine, also insisted on running the business.
Craine, Alicia Craine.
You know her?
I made her acquaintance postmortem.
Alicia Craine k*lled herself six months ago.
Then you'll also know that her blackguard of a husband was m*rder, Doctor.
Oh, yes, indeed.
I assisted the police in that investigation.
Jack Craine was not only a monster, he also had no head for business.
He almost ruined Alicia.
Then one day after his death, she came to me and she said she intended borrowing money, to try and keep the mill going.
The business was to be the collateral for the loan, that, and Alicia's house, everything she owned.
Well, I advised her not to accept it, but she was adamant.
She secured two large orders, that would bring in all the money she needed providing her creditors would give her some, extra time to repay them.
But they would not give her the time, gentlemen.
And so they took the West Family Mill, and they took Alicia's house, and Alicia Craine, threw herself down to her death.
The moneylender, gentlemen, was Mr. Henry Starr.
Mr. Henry Starr and his associate, Mr. George Milburn.
And what of the night of Starr's m*rder?
Starr had come to my office to discuss taking possession of the house.
Alicia's housekeeper, Mrs. Booth had always refused to move.
I had managed to persuade Starr and Milburn to, give me some time to get Mrs. Booth to leave the house.
Starr had called to say that, my time was up.
You say that Alicia Craine k*lled herself, Doctor, but I say, that she was as good as k*lled by Mr. Starr and Milburn.
Henry Starr drives Alicia Craine to su1c1de.
Then Starr himself is k*lled.
Revenge, do you think?
It's a time honored motive.
But revenge by whom?
Mrs. Booth, the housekeeper.
The lawyer said she's stubborn, maybe she's angry, too.
But the gloves, Doyle, were men's gloves.
Deliberately left, to make it look as if Starr had been k*lled by a man?
Another thing, if the k*ller was avenging the death of Alicia Craine, would there not have been two m*rder?
I am referring to George Milburn, Henry Starr's business partner and co-persecutor of Mrs. Craine.
But we should at least speak to the housekeeper.
Indeed, yes, by all means.
Even innocent, she may be able to tell us much that we do not yet know.
You said you assisted the police on the Craine m*rder.
Did you find the k*ller?
Yes and no, Doyle, yes and no.
Alicia Craine's husband, Jack, was m*rder by one Ned Ball.
This is a fair likeness of him.
Unfortunately, he was never apprehended thanks to Blaney's incompetence.
You see, it was the Craine case that brought the lieutenant and myself together, some weeks after the m*rder I might add.
Jack Craine left his office at : p.m. one evening, and an hour later, he was found d*ad in a pen on the other side of the city.
Now, the autopsy showed, that he'd been s*ab once, and had died from loss of blood.
But the pen was almost free of blood.
So Craine was m*rder elsewhere, and brought to the pen?
precisely- But according to the report, Lieutenant Blaney failed to note that.
Craine was struck down in the vicinity of his office, and then transported across the city.
But in what?
And why had he been moved at all?
Might there not be something, about the scene of the m*rder, that could lead to the identity of the perpetrator.
I decided to explore the area surrounding Craine's office and I found the answer almost immediately.
Indeed, it almost ran me down.
Craine was moved in a cart.
Well, I thought the possibility worth looking into.
I re-interrogated every employee of McCulloch and Sons, and one of them remembered, seeing a colleague scrubbing blood from his cart.
It seems that when this man was questioned, he claimed to have been transporting animal carcasses.
But I was very far from being satisfied, and I examined the records.
No animal carcasses were transported on that particular day.
I asked the foreman to name the carter in question.
When I identified him as the m*rder, he had disappeared.
Now, you tell me, Doyle, am I being harsh, or should any competent policeman have been able to follow the trail that I followed?
All right, he was incompetent, I agree.
But he's still there, and you still have to keep him informed of developments.
AYe' Would you mind if I left the informing to you?
Well, no, I'm her nurse, Mrs. Troy.
I'm Dr. Doyle, I was wondering if I might see Lieutenant Blaney?
Please come in, Doctor.
Come on, come on.
That's my girl.
What's the meaning of this?
I thought you...
You know she's not to be seen like this.
I'm sorry, sir, but I thought you'd put her to bed.
-- Get out, get him out.
Get him out of here now.
I'll show you to the study, please.
I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.
I'm so sorry, sorry.
Lieutenant, I am sorry...
I don't like anyone seeing Isadora like that.
That said, I apologize for my outburst.
Isadora Blaney, your wife writes books on chess.
Not any more.
Before the seizure struck, she managed to write these three volumes.
Play the game, Doctor?
No, I'm a better student than I am a player.
May I borrow this?
I'm sorry, no.
These are the only copies we have.
That's what brought us together, chess.
We met at a tournament.
An odd place to find a woman I thought.
But later when we began to play each other, it didn't seem so odd.
Isadora always won.
For some strange reason I found it impossible to concentrate whenever she was my opponent.
Please take a seat, Doctor.
Would you like a drink?
No, too late I'm afraid.
It would keep me awake.
Keep you awake?
Do you know why that is, Doctor?
Because you don't drink enough of the stuff.
So where's Dr. Bell this good night?
I had an idea they'd send for Bell, you know, with Starr's k*ller's still free, with Starr being the son of an important man, and Sam Fergusson having to be promoted to Chief Constable.
I had an idea they'd send for Bell.
He told me about the Craine case.
And did he tell you he recommended my dismissal?
Yes, reluctantly he said.
What happened to, to Mrs. Blaney?
One day I went to work and she was fine, and when I came back she was like that.
Mrs. Troy says she'd be better off in an institution, but I could never do that.
I loved Isadora and she loved me, so now it's my duty to look after her.
You say loved.
Well, there's nothing left of her to love now, is there, Doctor?
Did the seizure happen before or after the Craine case?
And I will not let anyone blame Isadora's sickness for my shortcomings.
It was my mistake, not hers.
What brings you here this late hour, Doctor?
What about them?
What if, they had been left deliberately, by a woman?
You got a particular woman in mind?
Mrs. Margaret Booth, Alicia Craine's housekeeper.
Is it a good book?
Mrs. Blaney's book.
It's a very good book.
I'm reading her analysis of Steinitz versus Labatt.
They were a series of chess matches that took place in New Orleans.
And what do you think of her analysis?
Well it's, nothing short of remarkable.
And Mrs. Blaney herself, what's she like?
More d*ad than alive.
Stroke, quite massive.
He looks after her, you know.
Won't let her be, put into an institution.
I $ .
She was struck down some months before the Craine m*rder.
And you think Blaney's failings in the Craine case were a direct consequence of his wife's illness.
He says her illness is no excuse.
But you're not so sure.
And if you're not so sure, it follows you think I may have judged him too harshly.
I didn't say that.
Gentlemen, I loathed Henry Starr, for what he did to my mistress, just as I loathed her wicked husband, Jack Craine.
And, I'm ashamed to say, that I rejoiced at the death of both of them.
But I have not k*lled anyone, because as a Christian woman, I believe that only the Lord has the right to take away life.
But you can see why we would come here, Mrs. Booth?
I can imagine anyone who loved Alicia as I did, might take revenge on Starr and his crony, Milburn.
And you can see that before God it is your duty to tell us of such a person?
Well I, suppose, but only, because it is my duty before God.
Aside from that, I'm not sure I wouldn't go down on my knees, and thank whoever k*lled Craine and Starr.
Mrs. Booth, before God, can you think of anyone, who might want to avenge your mistress?
There was someone, I'm sure of it.
I think she found someone to love after her husband was m*rder.
Who, Mrs. Booth?
I knew Alicia Craine all her life.
One day when I came back from my sister's, I find a gentleman's cufflink in her bedroom.
She said she'd found it in a drawer and had put it out to be disposed of.
She said it was one of his, Jack Craine's.
But when I looked at her, I knew that wasn't the way of it.
She couldn't lie to me.
And who's to blame her, after what she endured with Jack Craine.
Mrs. Booth, are we to understand that you have no actual proof that Alicia Craine found someone?
Not proof, no.
I have a feeling about this, Sam.
I know I'm right.
Starr ruined Alicia Craine and was m*rder for his troubles.
m*rder by whom?
You heard Mrs. Booth.
Alicia Craine's secret love.
She found a cufflink, man.
Oh, you heard what she said.
She knew Alicia Craine all her life.
She knew her.
She knew Mrs. Craine was concealing something from her.
It is still not proof.
No, it's a bloody starting point!
Dr. Doyle, what do you have to say?
Mrs. Booth was clearly more than just a housekeeper, to Alicia Craine.
She was a friend of many years, so yes, it is possible, that she would know if Alicia was being evasive with her.
On the other hand, there is, Dr. Bell's point about, Starr's business partner, George Milburn.
Now, to Alicia Craine's supposed vengeful lover, Milburn would be every bit as culpable as Starr.
So why hasn't Milburn been k*lled?
I want Milburn questioned.
I want to know if anyone has as much as spat in his direction.
And if not, I want to know if he knows of anyone else, who might have borne a grudge against Starr.
Thank you, Martha.
And, please, send my husband straight through when he comes home.
I'm sure he won't be too long, gentlemen.
It's not as if our wait will be an unpleasant one, ma'am.
These are really delicious biscuits.
Did you make them yourself?
Well, actually, Martha does that sort of thing.
Oh, of course.
My, my, what was I thinking of?
Can't anyone say why you want to see George?
Ahem, it's nothing for you to worry about, ma'am.
I expect it's about poor Henry's demise.
Have you found the k*ller?
George will be so pleased if you have.
They were such good friends.
Starr's k*ller is still on the loose, ma'am.
George will be so disappointed.
Is something wrong, Doctor?
Michelangelo, Leonardo DaVinci, Benjamin Franklin, President Garfield, Sir Edwin Landseer.
Won't you tell them, what these gentlemen have in common, Mrs. Milburn?
Well, it's all quite silly really.
But, like my husband, these, gentlemen were all what's called, ambidextrous, which means...
Yes, we know what it means, Mrs. Milburn.
My husband is forever showing off his little, gift as he likes to call it.
Personally, I find it all so juvenile.
Have I said something?
Does your husband smoke cigars, Mrs. Milburn?
Yes, but not in the house.
Never in the house.
I won't allow it.
George, I say, kindly smoke those disgusting things outside.
IS that SO?
Martha tells me, you gentlemen are from the police.
How long had you known Henry Starr, Mr. Milburn?
Oh, four, five years though we only became business associates three years ago.
Business, you call money lending a business?
Now, I'm not sure I, approve of your tone, sir.
I agreed to come here to help with your inquiries.
I did not come to be, insulted.
Henry and I, provided financial assistance for people whom the banks would never entertain.
People like Alicia Craine.
There's some say, that you and Starr drove that woman to su1c1de.
She understood the terms of our loan.
Nobody was holding a p*stol to her head forcing her to take our money.
Have you received any thr*at against your life, Mr. Milburn?
thr*at no, why?
Why should anyone thr*at?
You think Henry's death was, related to our business, our business with the Craine woman?
Is that what you think?
Why don't you show Mr. Milburn the gloves, Dr. Doyle?
You recognize these gloves, Mr. Milburn?
No no, they um, they just, seem like gloves to me.
They were found by Starr's body.
We know they're not his because he did not smoke cigars, and he was not ambidextrous.
You smoke cigars, Mr. Milburn, and I understand you're quite proud to be two-handed.
Oh this is, this is, this is just some sort of um, bizarre coincidence really, that's all.
See, these aren't my gloves because I, I, I don't wear gloves, I, I hate gloves.
May I, ask where you were, on the night of Henry Starr's m*rder, Mr. Milburn?
Where, at home asleep I should think.
I retire early at : every evening.
Your wife can verify that?
Well, no, you see, Lyla and I sleep in separate, apartments.
Look, gentlemen, I really must be going, but if there is anything further I can do, then I insist that you call on me, because I considered Henry Starr to be a first rate chap, first rate.
And I want his k*ller caught as much as anyone.
Thank you, Mr. Milburn, you can go, and we note your offer of further help with gratitude.
And good evening, gentlemen.
Shouldn't we have pressed him further?
We cannot hold a man in custody without a charge.
He said the gloves were not his, and that he and Starr were close friends.
Are we just to accept that?
The man is not a k*ller.
He's not, Sam.
He's a conceited buffoon, who thinks being two-handed makes him a genius.
Cold blooded m*rder is a long way beyond him.
How can you be so certain, Lieutenant?
Because I can read people, Doctor.
I've built my career on that, a career as a full time professional policeman, not some dabbling dilettante.
May I remind you, sir, that it was this dabbling dilettante who identified Jack Craine's k*ller and your incompetence that let him get away?
May I also remind you that if it had been left to you, we would still be seeking Henry Starr's m*rder among the criminal fraternity of this city?
What was it you said?
We are looking or should be looking for a footpad.
Now, look here, I have...
I think perhaps it is too early to rule Milburn out.
I think we should be looking for more evidence against him.
For which task, Sam, I would like to borrow Sergeant Clarke.
You have Doyle.
I wish to question people.
As you've just pointed out, I am not a professional policeman.
I need the law's authority.
You can have Clarke.
Sam, if you have personnel to spare, you should set them to guarding George Milburn for I have great fears for his life.
Sergeant Clarke will go with Dr. Bell and Dr. Doyle, Lieutenant.
Since you are to have Clarke, do you suppose I might be spared tomorrow?
Why, we have a definite line of inquiry to follow.
Well, I thought I might visit my father.
Oh, yes, of course.
Well, I don't suppose there are more than four gentlemen's outfitters in Edinburgh that a man like Milburn would patronize so Sergeant Clarke and I will be able to manage.
No, I've uh, uh, I've just remembered something I, have to be elsewhere.
See that gentleman over there.
That's me, Alexander McDonald Cameron, if you'd like my full title, Mister...
Doyle, Dr., Arthur Conan Doyle.
I've come about his book by, Isadora Blaney.
You wrote the forward to it.
I had that great honor.
Well, I've been trying to, get hold of Mrs. Blaney's other works without much success.
Lieutenant Blaney was understandably reluctant to lend me his copies as they're all his has.
You know Daniel Blaney?
Yes, I'm currently helping him with an investigation.
Let's hope it's a case of first time lucky, Dr. Bell.
Can I help, sir?
If you have a customer named George Milburn, you most certainly can help me.
I'm sure sir will appreciate that who is, and who is not a customer here, is a matter of the strictest confidence.
Indeed, which is why I've brought my very own policeman.
We do have an account customer called George Milburn.
An account customer?
Better and better.
May we see his account.
Mrs. Blaney, her book contains many insights into the Steinitz-Labatt matches.
But, I just don't see how...
How Isadora could write so lucidly about chess matches that were played after she was stricken by her illness?
I can see you are keen student of the game, sir.
Well, the plain truth is, Isadora did not finish the book.
Her husband did, but he generously refused joint authorship.
It was Isadora's book he said.
She had started it, so it was hers and hers alone.
I tell you, Doctor, the good Lord threw away the mold, when he was done making Daniel Blaney.
Would sir care to purchase the deer stalker?
I cannot imagine in what circumstances I would where it.
On the other hand, I think I know someone who might like it.
You were right.
You lied to us, Mr. Milburn.
You told us you never wore gloves yet we find you purchased a pair from Cross Brothers, a pair moreover identical to these.
And that's all you can say.
I bought gloves similar to those.
You cannot prove that those gloves are the ones I purchased.
Oh, please, Mr. Milburn, calm down.
Where are your gloves, Mr. Milburn?
Lost, months ago.
In the, in the park near my home.
I often go there I, I enjoy it there.
As I recall, I put the gloves in my coat pocket, and as the day was mild, I carried my coat, the gloves, must have fallen from the pocket, but when I retraced my steps I couldn't find them.
I swear I'm telling you the truth.
I, I, I, told a stupid lie.
I knew it was stupid the moment I told it.
Did you mention losing the gloves to anyone?
I don't know.
Lyla possibly, possibly not.
What's a pair of gloves?
You lose a pair, you buy another pair.
-- Yes, sir.
Take Mr. Milburn downstairs and get him a cup of tea.
He looks as though he could do with it.
This way, Mr. Milburn.
Now, gentlemen, before we ponder this latest development, may I ask that we keep a civil tongue in our heads?
I do not believe that man is a k*ller.
He lied to us.
He panicked, which rather backs up my point.
People like that don't go around k*lling people.
That is an opinion, but it takes no account of the proven facts.
The man is ambidextrous.
He purchased the self same gloves from Cross Brothers, and he smokes cigars.
Are we to ignore all that?
I didn't say they weren't his gloves.
I said that I didn't believe he was the k*ller.
What if they were left deliberately, to cast suspicion on Milburn?
Ach, by whom?
Alicia Craine's secret gentleman friend.
It's been, what, six months since Mrs. Craine's death.
Six months, for him to, stalk his victims, six months to get to know their habits, perhaps even to get to know the fact that Milburn is two-handed.
So he steals the gloves, and drops them, besides Starr's body after he kills him.
At best, the law will hang Milburn for him.
At worst, he has us chasing an innocent man.
Meanwhile, he quietly contemplates his next move.
You talk as if you know this man exists.
Dr. Doyle, your turn.
Well, Dr. Bell has a suspect but no motive, as Lieutenant Blaney has a motive but no suspect.
Exactly, he has a phantom.
However, the more I see of Milburn, the more inclined I am to agree with, Lieutenant Blaney, that the man is not a k*ller.
And if that is the case, then Lieutenant Blaney's phantom becomes, somewhat more substantial.
Well said, Dr. Doyle.
I'll send Milburn home again.
We have to set a guard to him, Sam, No.
No because unlike Dr. Doyle, I am inclined to agree with Joe.
Milburn remains far and away our strongest suspect.
But without a motive, we cannot convict him.
Then, we will find one.
Have you taken leave of your senses?
You asked me here to give an honest opinion, and my opinion is that Milburn is an unlikely k*ller.
Oh, and what brings you to this conclusion?
What, beyond the famous instincts of Lieutenant Blaney that is?
I appreciate you may find that difficult to accept, but, I truly believe he's a remarkable man.
I $ .
Well, I will tell you what I believe.
I believe that you stand in awe of Blaney's compassion for his unfortunate wife.
I believe that, that compassion must seem quite monumental to a man who's been obliged to confine his father in an asylum.
I believe that erroneously you are letting Blaney's compassion inflame your own sense of guilt, and I say erroneously because the truth, the truth that you have to be brave enough to confront, the truth is that your poor father, is in the only place he can ever be.
Only clear and concrete evidence will lead us to this m*rder, and you have none to support your belief...
She's down for the night.
Can I get you a drink, Doctor?
Or is it too late?
I'll have one.
Do you still play?
No, that board is the way Isadora and I left it when we last played.
That was when I last played.
Isadora was white and as you can see, she was about to b*at me soundly.
I imagine he's not best pleased with you, is he?
No, he's not.
Well, you're certainly your own man, I can see that.
What I can't see is how you can stand the fellow.
Cause he's a good man, but like many good men, he feels the need to mask his virtues.
I spoke again to Mrs. Booth, was there anyone that knew anything about Alicia's man friend.
She suggested I see some people at the family mill, people Mrs. Craine might have confided in, people she'd known and worked with all her life.
She gave you names?
Let's bring them in, Sergeant.
The first one has worked for the family, man and boy.
Good day, I'm Dr. Bell.
Sir John is expecting me.
May I ask what you hope to find, Doctor?
If your son died at the hands of someone he knew, which is a possibility, there may be something here which points to that person.
My son's bedroom.
I'm afraid that neither Jenny, nor I have been able to enter Henry's apartment since his death.
Hence the unfortunate appearance of neglect.
Sir John, if you would rather leave me here on my own.
I, I would prefer to.
That door leads to Henry's study.
As you will see, it too, oh is a, well...
Mrs. Kitson, sir, Mrs. Craine's secretary.
Please, sit down, Mrs. Kitson.
Mrs. Kitson, we appreciate that as Mrs. Craine's secretary, she was able to, rely on your discretion in all things.
Well I'm, no gossip in my private life, so discretion came easy at work.
But we desperately need information.
Did Mrs. Craine have a man in her life, is that it?
The others said that's what you wanted to know.
Well, Mrs. Craine's gone now, thanks to Henry Starr, so I suppose I'm free to speak.
So, yes, I think there was a man.
And if he k*lled Starr, I cannot in all honesty hope for your success, sir.
And I hope to God she was happy with him, after what her husband put her through.
Mrs. Kitson, please.
All I know, is she had her picture taken, and was sending it to him, as a postcard.
On the back she wrote, to my precious love, from Alicia.
I saw it lying on her desk.
She caught me looking over it, but we both pretended, nothing had happened.
Mrs. Kitson, was there a name, an address?
I've told you all I know.
Well, at least we know now he does exist.
It's so bloody frustrating.
Even if you had a description, anything.
Mrs. Booth and Mrs. Kitson were both Alicia's close friends, fiercely loyal and with no sympathy for Starr.
I just worry they're not telling us everything they know.
I know what you mean.
I am he.
Frank D'arcy, Frank.
I am the manager of the Queen's Lodge.
You asked to see me?
Indeed I did, Mr. D'arcy.
I have here a letter which you sent to Mr. Henry Starr.
You say in your communication that he is no longer welcome, because of the recent unpleasantness.
May one ask what the recent unpleasantness was?
You may ask, but I can't answer.
You are aware that Henry Starr was m*rder?
Yes, a common thief the press said.
Oh, you must never put your trust, in the veracity of the newspapers, Mr. D'arcy.
Now, as I am assisting this investigation, I have the authority to summon the police here in full force and leave them to interrogate you.
But that might be rather intrusive, don't you agree?
Yes, yes, of course.
Well, what happened was, Mr. Starr was a regular guest at the Queen's Lodge, and, he invariably came with a lady, a married lady as it turned out.
You see, I know that, Dr. Bell, because her husband turned up at the hotel and caught them in, flagrante delicto as they say in, wherever.
And the name of this lady and gentleman.
Well, you must understand, Dr. Bell, at the time there was great shouting and tumult.
And consequently, all that was caught were their Christian names.
Mr. Orde, we need you to think very hard.
We know Alicia Craine was seeing a man, but we need to know something, anything to help us establish his identity.
I'm sorry, Alicia and I never discussed that kind of thing.
Please, Mr. Orde, you're our last hope.
There was, one incident that made me wonder.
It occurred one morning, when Alicia had been to see me.
When she left, I watched her walk back to her carriage, and I remember that as she left, she stopped and waved back to me.
When she reached the carriage, there was someone waiting for her, a man, very definitely a man.
He, helped her inside, and the carriage moved off.
But is there anything, that you saw, that could help us identify this man?
NO, I'm sorry.
Ah, Doyle, what excellent timing.
It was George Milburn, Daniel.
Henry Starr was having an affair, with Lyla Milburn.
George Milburn found out, and tracked them to a dubious country hotel.
And I think, that, is a motive for m*rder, don't you, Lieutenant?
That can't be, you're wrong.
Let's go and get him, Daniel.
Let's go get our man.
Gentlemen, what is going on?
They've come for Mr. Milburn, ma'am.
George is taking his evening walk.
Towards the park.
Oh, don't, no, agh.
Are you all right?
Tripped, bloody tripped.
Excuse me now.
Are you all right?
After what I have done here?
You've done nothing.
A bloody m*rder all that was done, not you.
But could that bloody m*rder have struck, if Milburn had been protected?
They've taken him away, sir.
Lieutenant, you were right.
Lieutenant, it's maybe of no consequence, sir, but uh, Mrs. Milburn remembers something.
It was, some months ago now.
George and I were walking in the park.
He stopped to join a game of cricket with some boys.
He wanted to show off, you see?
Show how he could bowl with both hands.
As I was watching, I noticed a man, standing on the verandah of the changing pavilion.
I can't be sure, but I think he was watching us.
I don't know.
Could you identify this man?
He was standing in the shadows.
Didn't you say anything to your husband?
It seemed so silly.
But even after Henry Starr's death, why didn't you say something then?
I thought I knew, who Henry's k*ller was.
I thought it was my husband, for what Henry and I did to him.
I thought it was my husband, not some man watching from the shadows.
We're never going to get him, are we, sir?
I'll get him.
I'll get him.
You say he crossed here on the diagonal and turned right?
If he stayed on this side and turned left, he'd have been out of sight a lot quicker, wouldn't he?
I suppose so.
No, no, no, no.
He crossed here for a reason.
St. John's Club for Gentlemen.
And always with carriages waiting outside.
That's why he came this way.
There must be dozens of carriages.
How are we ever going to find the right one, sir?
We'll pay for information.
The rain's easing up now.
According to Dr. Doyle, Dr. Bell's been quite devastated by recent events, so I don't think he's going to be quite so quick to condemn others in the future.
Or call for their dismissal.
Are you ill or something?
No, I'm not ill.
As a matter of fact, I've been, waiting here for some boys who play cricket in the park.
As you can see, we play cricket.
Once,these boys were joined, by a man who could bowl, with either hand.
And bat and catch.
It was you?
This man's wife said she saw someone here on the,verandah.
Did any of you see that man?
We leave our clothes here.
At first, I thought he was a pickpocket, but he wasn't.
He was just watching the game.
Did you speak to the man?
Could you describe the man?
I could even tell you his name and his occupation.
Excuse me, sir.
Lieutenant Blaney, this is Mr. Runsonman.
He's a cabby.
Now, he remembers picking up a man outside the St. John's Club for Gentlemen on the night in question.
Mr. Runsonman says the man was quite breathless, sir, as if he'd been running hard.
Pity we didn't get an address.
Well, if he lives around here, we'll spot him sooner or later.
Michael, go home, get some rest.
You come back and relieve me about : , go on.
Doyle, what brings you here?
I need your help, to make sense of something.
And you've come to me for advice?
Are you sure you're asking the right person?
Yes, I am.
What is it, Doyle?
When, I took Henry Starr's clothes, back to his father he asked me, why the police had kept them for so long.
I could give him no good reason although I told myself it was probably another manifestation of Blaney's incompetence.
That's what I would have told myself.
Because Blaney was the drunken fool, who'd let Jack Craine's k*ller get away.
Do you remember asking me about Mrs. Blaney's book on chess?
About the Steinitz versus Labatt match in New Orleans.
Yes, you said her analysis of the match was remarkable.
Remarkable in its insight into the game and, remarkable, because she would have to have written it after her seizure.
Which would have been patently impossible.
Blaney wrote about the chess match.
The drunken fool who'd missed such obvious clues in the Craine case.
He afterwards sat down and wrote incisively about the greatest chess player in the world.
Drunken fools simply cannot do that sort of thing.
-- Wait, wait.
I felt that something wasn't right and, that if I got close to Blaney, if I won his confidence, I could find out what that something was.
And that's why you sided with him?
I've been a fool in more ways than one.
How stupid of me not to see.
Forgive me, Doyle.
No it's, I who should apologize.
But I took the view that if you and I colluded in any way, Blaney, with his famous instinct, would have been alive to it so I, kept my intentions to myself.
And uh, has gaining his confidence enabled you to establish what it is that is wrong?
But more than ever I'm convinced that something, something is amiss.
When, Mrs. Milburn told us about seeing someone watching her and her husband in the park, it occurred to me that the cricketers might have seen the watcher also.
Now, given that I no longer saw Blaney as a bumbling dipsomaniac, it struck me as odd, that he, too, did not consider that possibility.
So I went to the park myself.
And you found the cricketers?
And had they seen the watcher?
One boy had spoken to the man.
You have a description of the m*rder.
Not only did the boy remember the man, he'd recently seen a picture of him in the newspaper.
It was Blaney.
What on earth was he doing watching Milburn?
Consider the facts, Doyle.
In which direction are they pushing you?
In a direction that is too, too incredible.
I just want to hear this incredible thesis.
We know now that Blaney's not a fool.
In fact, he's quite the opposite.
He believed that if he failed to catch Starr's k*ller, you would be sent for.
He anticipated that.
He told me so himself.
So, he deliberately doesn't catch the k*ller, and you are sent for, which is what he wants because now he can humiliate you.
Which is precisely what he has done, and then?
He watched Starr and Milburn and he laid his plans.
Starr was to be k*lled first and the gloves left to point us in the direction of Milburn.
That's why he kept Starr's clothes for so long.
Yes, because he knew I would examine them.
He knew I would find out about those gloves.
He ostentatiously refuses, to accept the facts, refuses to believe that Milburn is a k*ller.
He even demands protection for Milburn but knows that Sam Fergusson will listen to you and refuse that protection because the facts are on your side.
But then Milburn is k*lled, and Blaney's vindicated, and you, you're discredited.
It appears you've indirectly contributed to Milburn's death.
He's not only vindicated.
He's provided with a watertight alibi because he was with us.
So where does it all fall down, Doyle?
I simply cannot accept that Blaney, would have some accomplice k*ll two men, just to discredit you.
So, let us consider the facts.
May they not yield a better motive for m*rder?
We know, that Henry Starr and George Milburn drove Alicia Craine to her death.
We know that both men were subsequently m*rder.
And we now know, that Alicia Craine did have a secret lover.
But it was Blaney who was watching Milburn, not Alicia's lover.
Was it not, Doyle?
Was it not her lover?
No, but why would Blaney work tirelessly to prove there was a lover if he was the man in question?
Why don't you and I ask him?
We've found the k*ller, Lieutenant Blaney's there now.
But I've got to...
-- Take us to him.
We've got a good description of the k*ller, and we know the area he lives in.
We seem to be wrong.
Do we, Doyle?
You asked why Blaney strove to prove there was a lover.
Perhaps it was because he wanted to present him to us, and complete his triumph over me.
But how can he do that?
What are you talking about?
He should be here.
Well, he's not.
So let's try and find him.
Hello, Mr. Blaney.
Come with my money, have you?
Its just a cut.
Perhaps I should take a look at that.
No, my friend, what you should look at is that.
There's your k*ller, Doctor, Mr. Ned Ball.
He m*rder Jack Craine so he could get Alicia, and then did for Starr and Milburn when they took Alicia from him.
Ned Ball was Alicia Craine's secret love?
If you want proof, I found this on the mantle.
Probably the picture that Mrs. Kitson told us about.
It is indeed.
May I, Doyle?
Would you care to show us where the picture frame stood, Lieutenant?
There should be a mark.
Like these other ornaments.
There should be a clear mark in the dust.
I cannot find it.
What are you saying?
These gentlemen, have made some serious allegations against you, sir.
That you had Ned Ball m*rder Henry Starr and George Milburn.
And why would I do that?
Because you blamed them for the death of Alicia Craine.
And because you were Alicia's lover.
I spoke to the cricketers, Lieutenant.
You were identified.
You know, it occurs to me, the lady would have sent you other tokens of her love, letters perhaps, letters that we could find, if we searched your house for them.
You should go and organize that search, Sergeant Clarke.
I'll go and speak to Fergusson.
Get back here, Sergeant.
God's sake, man, you can't k*ll us all.
It would seem you have me, Doctor.
It would seem so, Lieutenant.
Yet there is still so much, I would like to understand.
I met Alicia, when I investigated her husband's m*rder.
I quickly discovered the life of torment he'd given her, and I also found myself attracted to her.
I blazed the trail to Ned Ball long before you did, Doctor.
But old Ned also had a tale to tell, about how Alicia had paid him, to rid her of her husband.
We all know what that meant, don't we?
If I put a rope around Ned's neck, I put one around Alicia's also.
So I let Ned go.
I $ .
Alicia loved me in return, and for a while we gave each other the happiness that had gone out of both our lives.
I must apologize for impugning your reputation.
I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I was mistaken.
You amongst others, Doctor.
But I accept your apology.
I was still officially a married man, so Alicia insisted on secrecy.
But there were times when your secret was glimpsed by others.
Mrs. Kitson, with the photograph.
Mrs. Booth and my damned cufflink.
And Jeremy Orde.
We used to laugh at our narrow escapes, as Alicia used to call them.
But in the end, I was able to put them to good use.
I was able to create my phantom lover.
Old Ned would turn up d*ad, and holding Alicia's photograph.
Alicia would be revenged, and Dr. Bell would finally be checkmated.
As for Starr and Milburn, those two were d*ad from the minute Alicia fell to her death.
I trailed them both for months.
I even found out about Starr and Mrs. Milburn and tipped Milburn off with an anonymous note.
Good Lord, I was even at the hotel, when they had their to do.
What wonderful stuff, gentlemen.
Wait Sergeant, not yet.
As for old Ned there, he's filled many a grave himself and so can have no complaints.
But I have injured my darling Isadora, not by loving Alicia because Isadora could never know about that.
No, I've hurt Isadora by getting caught, because without me to look after her, they'll put her away in some cruel bedlam, some cruel bedlam.
For doing that to Isadora, I don't deserve a minute more of life.
I'm glad you came today.
Why should I not have come?
What is at the core of our faith, if not the injunction to forgive?
But for you, Doyle, I might have gone to my grave believing that I, could have prevented George Milburn's death.
So thank you.
Well, for the best I think.
He's had a proper funeral.
The line of duty after all.
It would be necessary to monitor the institution to which she is committed, and ensure that she is properly cared for.
Well, there's no need.
She won't be going to an institution.
Sir John Starr mentioned a generous reward for whoever found his son's k*ller.
I suggested the money might be better spent on, taking care of Isadora.
He agreed, money having lost much of its allure, for Sir John recently.
And now, two poor souls are in your debt.
Now, back to your room.
Aren't I the great hero?
Ah, the brothers Doyle.
Welcome, Innes, it's grand to see you again.
We're off to the railway station in a handsome cab.
So you're here to say good-bye to your old friend.
As a matter of fact, I'm very glad you came for I have a wee present for you.
It's over there on the desk, My final observations on the m*rder of Jack Craine.
Better late than never, eh?
Bon voyage, Doyle.
Perhaps when we meet again it will be under more auspicious circumstances.
That would be most welcome, for we two, to be drawn together, by simple friendship and cordiality.
And now, you must return home, and you must, drive all memory of these events from your mind.
Drive them from your mind, and return to the humdrum just as soon as you can.
Is that what you do, drive them from your mind?
Aye, well, I try to.
You know, it had occurred to me that I might, write about it, in some altered form, of course.
Well, if it helps to exorcise the ghosts.
But, Doyle, you mustn't let this scribbling, displace your medical career.
That would never do.
No, that would never do.
Till we meet again, my friend.
Till we meet again.
Drive all memory of these events from your mind, drive them from your mind.
How hard I tried to obey that injunction.
How hard I tried to live a normal life.
Yet those thoughts would always return.
I thought of all the strange adventures the doctor and I had been through, of the worlds they had revealed, worlds of m*rder that lay below the surface of our supposedly calm and ordered society.
Could I ever capture them, perhaps in a series of tales never to be recognized as the cases on which they were based?
For the moment, I failed.
But, my recollections of the doctor remained so vivid.
I would see again that steely gaze, imagine him calling my name, summoning me back to his rooms of m*rder.
What I could not yet know, was that some of the most horrifying rooms, were still to be revealed.
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01x04 - The White Knight Stratagem
Episode transcripts for the TV show "m*rder Rooms: Mysteries of the Real Sherlock Holmes". Aired: May 18, 2000 to October 2001.
m*rder Rooms is the "behind the scenes" original mini-series to the origins of Sherlock Holmes.
1 post • Page 1 of 1
1 post • Page 1 of 1