Sherlock Holmes - The Final Problem

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The adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

We present the original stories of the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, dramatized a new, with Sir John Gilgood as Sherlock Holmes, Sir Ralph Richardson as Dr. Watson, and today, Orson Wells as Professor Moriarty.

It is with a heavy heart that I come before you, the last adventure of my friend Sherlock Holmes.

It is with a heavy heart that I come before you, the last adventure of my friend Sherlock Holmes that I should be able to relate.

I have tried in my humble way to chronicle some of our exploits together to demonstrate the singular gifts of that most remarkable of name.

It lies with me now to tell you what occurred between Holmes and his arch enemy, Professor Moriarty, when, at last, they came face to face.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, your efforts on the side of law and order have seriously inconvenienced me. The situation between us is becoming an impossible one Mr. Holmes.

It simply cannot go on. One or the other of us must die.

It was in the spring of 1891. You will remember, perhaps, that after my marriage in return for private practice, Holmes and I have drifted apart a little.

I followed the newspaper reports of his cases, of course, and called on him quite often at the old rooms in Baker Street.

Even so, however, many weeks would sometimes be left between our meetings.

And so, it was with some surprise, one April evening, that I looked up and saw him standing before me in my study.

Good evening, Watson.

Oh, good evening, Holmes. Have you a cigarette for me?

How long is it?

Great heavens, man. How ill you look.

Oh, that's why I've been using myself up, rather, too freely of late, old friend.

You've no objection if I close your window shutters?

No, of course not.

You don't afraid of anything, are you?

Well, to tell you the truth, I am, rather. But it's not like you, Holmes. What is it?

Air guns. Air guns? What on earth do you mean?

There's a new and deadly type of air gun, Watson, which has been specially designed by an old acquaintance of ours.

Who?

What, Professor Molly Arte?

They could only be here from your tone?

The same.

Imagine, give me a match, will you, my dear fellow?

Yes, of course.

Well, thank you.

Is Mrs. Watson at home?

I don't know. She's on the visit to an arm.

Quite a load.

Good, good. That makes it easier for me to propose that you should come away with me for a few days.

Delighted?

But where?

Oh, the continent.

Somewhere broad.

A broad?

Is that whiskey in the decanter there?

Yes.

Now, look here, Holmes, what's all this about?

There's something more serious in your man, rather than...

You never did quite believe in the iniquities of Moriarty, did you?

Watson, you've said so more than once.

I thought you exaggerated a bit after all, Professor Molly Arte's was a respectable figure in public life.

So, and that's the very genius of the man.

Even you, Watson, knowing me as you do, can't quite believe me when I tell you that he corrupts all London with his ebony influence.

I can't quite believe that.

Oh, of course, to the world he's still the professor of a great mathematician.

He's respectable.

But what rare proof have you that he's anything else?

None.

Well, at least, not until this last month, and even now the chain isn't quite complete.

The three days more.

And I shall have him, Watson.

Three days more if I live to see them.

You can't seriously suppose that your life's in danger, Holmes?

No.

You always love to be melodramatic.

Melodramatic.

Listen, Watson, this morning.

This very morning, in those old rooms of ours in Baker Street, I saw him face to face.

I spoke to him.

Your distinguished professor, within him a criminal strain of the most abolical kind.

That great white dome of a forehead, those hooded eyes, and a white face pushed forward, oscillating from sight to sight like a snake.

Oh, of course, if you believe you'll ever see a physiognomy.

And only that, of course not.

I've worked for years to follow a thousand different traits in every one of them has led to Moriarty.

He's an abolion of crime, Watson, the secret organizer of almost everything evil that goes undetected in this great city of ours.

There he sits and motion this like a spider in the center of its web, a web with a thousand strands and he controls them every one.

But slowly, very slowly, my own secret plans to expose him have borne fruit.

Every day, mind it, is going tighter, and he knows it, Watson.

He knows the danger he's in, and that was why today he came to see me.

I was playing my violin, as you know I often do when I want to think.

And suddenly there he was, standing in the doorway, with his white face swaying and he even away, peering at me with his hooded eyes.

Good morning.

Professor Moriarty. Good morning to you.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe. How very charming that you play.

How kind of you to say so?

Mm-hmm.

Won't you be seated, Professor Moriarty? I can spare you just five minutes.

Thank you very much. Thank you very much.

May I say something personal to you, Mr. Holmes?

Certainly.

I'm surprised to discover that you have rather less cranial development than I might have expected.

Well, as you want the contrary, I have rather more than I had imagined, Professor.

You will recollect, I'm sure, however, that Beethoven's I did as both.

However, our personal characteristics are hardly relevant to the present situation.

What have you really got to say to me?

Perhaps I only suggested, of course, perhaps.

It is a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's dressing gun, Mr. Holmes.

Ah, evidently, you share that dangerous habit, Professor.

I assume that you'll keep your hand in the pocket of your morning coat.

Okay.

Supposing we lay out pistols and our cards on the table.

By all means, I was about to suggest it myself.

Ah, right.

See, you'll say that the Mauser attacked Mr. Holmes and without a silence, sir.

It's the midnight of presentures. I'm trying with one of these small devices of my own design.

They're quite convenient and avoiding unpleasant noise, you know.

I better kind up your professor. You must ask the hangman to deliver it to me as your last request.

You evidently don't know me, Mr. Holmes.

On the contrary, I think I know you better than you know yourself.

I wouldn't take up your gun again, Professor. I've already got you covered with mine.

So I've received, but I assure you it was only to give a harmless demonstration.

Of the silencer?

Of my own smaller accomplishments as a marksman, Mr. Holmes.

I've read him as a counselor, Dr. Watson, that somehow blows back into it.

I think your father never doubt a nearby friend of yours.

It's those marks on the wall there, made from your indoor revolver practice.

Quite so. The initials there.

We are Victoria, Regina, God save our majesty.

Now that I see them, it seems perhaps they're not quite as symmetrical as they might be.

At one side of the years, it's a little short, I think.

From it pretty to correct the slip.

Admiral Professor Mariati, you were perfectly right, of course.

That little mistake has now been rectified.

I'd like, however, if I may, to improve upon it.

Your bullet mark is perhaps a shade smaller than my own.

Permit me.

Admiral, go on, Mr. Holmes.

Precisely. Above your own mark, Professor, the exact spot, I think.

No, no, they don't look alarmed. My good land lady is quite accustomed to that noise.

We shall not be disturbed.

I'm very glad of it for what I have to say is not without importance, Mr. Holmes.

Show me stuff, our friend, sing at the beginning.

By all means, if you will permit me first to correct one statement that you made just now.

Where, sir?

With reference to my friend, Dr. Watson.

I am afraid I can hardly permit the adjective, though I know.

In his accounts of my humble exploits, he's been good enough to exaggerate my own achievements

and has always been unduly modest about his own.

He is a most upright and honorable gentleman, Professor, and very close to my heart.

You may say what you will about me, but I can allow no derogatory words about him.

Everyone, Mr. Holmes, I apologize.

We who are about to die, salute him.

Please do.

You are very certain, not you, Professor Moriate, that is his eye who I'm going to die.

There is no other course.

Unless you listen to reason.

The situation between us, Mr. Holmes, is becoming an impossible one.

It's if we cannot go on. It won't. I'll show you.

For these past few months, I've been working to put an end to it all of the earliest possible moment.

And you have very nearly undone the careful endeavor of a lifetime, sir.

Or at least have seriously threatened it.

No, no, no, no, don't move. You're pistol again.

I'm only taking out my memorandum book.

I beg your pardon.

I find it recorded here, and you crossed my path on the 4th of January, Holmes.

On the 23rd, you encountered me.

At the middle of February, I was seriously inconvenienced by you.

At the end of March, I was absolutely hampered.

And now at the close of April, I find myself placed in such a position.

Through your continual persecution that I'm in positive danger of losing my liberty.

Now, for certain at the end, I had in view, then you must drop it, Mr. Holmes.

You really must, you know.

Not till after Monday, Professor.

You know as well as I do that you've made a slip.

One single tiny slip.

For years, I've been aware of you, Moriate,

at the center of your organization, forgeries, murder cases, robberies,

a thousand crimes were planned by you.

A hundred agents carried them out.

Your subordinates were caught sometimes, but you never were.

And yet you know you made that slip.

That single tiny slip.

And you know as well as I do that it will destroy you.

In three more days, my evidence will be complete.

I shall have you exposed, brought to trial, condemned,

and hanged.

And you can do nothing whatever to prevent it.

My will is inflexible.

And so is mine.

Three days, do you say?

And before that out the end will come.

One or the other of us must die, sir.

Quite so.

The five minutes is up, Professor.

And I must very ask you to excuse me in the pleasure of our conversation.

I'm afraid that I've neglected business at importance elsewhere.

Very well.

He's a pity, sir.

Done what I could.

I admit that it's been an intellectual pleasure.

Need to see the way in which you grapple with this affair.

But I tell you solemnly, Sherlock Holmes,

that if you are clever enough to bring destruction on me,

you may rest assured that I should do as much to you.

You have paid me several compliments during this interview, Professor.

Let me pay you one in return when I say that if I were assured

of the former eventuality, I would most cheerfully accept the latter.

I can promise you the one but not the other.

Good day, Mr. Holmes.

Oh, your pistol, Professor.

You may need it before Monday.

Thank you.

Good day, Professor.

I think goodbye is the word, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Goodbye.

And so it was you see what's in that singular interview

with the greatest criminal of all time.

And his with the greatest detective.

Oh, thank you, my dear fellow.

But what are you going to do, Holmes?

I told you where we leave for the continent.

Mario art is not the man to let the grass grinder his feet.

Already one or two accidents are nearly performing me today.

Oh, my son.

The police are gathering all my evidence against him.

Everything will be complete in three short days.

Meanwhile, I can only lie low.

Are you able to leave your practice to come with me?

Well, I have an accommodating neighbor.

Oh, dear Watson, I knew I could come to you.

All right then.

Now, these are your instructions.

Listen most carefully.

Instruction is home.

I assure you that most necessary.

Tomorrow morning at 8.45, you will take a handsome cab.

I've arranged for one to call.

What's up, Holmes?

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No, no, you really must have been able to the letter Watson.

You leave the house alone tomorrow morning.

And take neither the first nor the second cab which presents itself at the rank.

Very well, Holmes.

And the address to the cabman written on a slip of paper.

And tell him not to throw it away.

And I drive, I take it to Victoria Station.

On the contrary, you drive to the strand end of the Lada arcade.

I see.

And then have your fare ready and the instant your cab stops.

Pay him and dash through the arcade.

Timing yourself to reach the other side at exactly a quarter past nine.

Yes, but my dear, Holmes.

Listen carefully, it's vital.

Our lives depend upon it.

When you get there you'll find a broom standing close to the curb.

Driven by a fellow with a black cloak tipped with red.

Say nothing.

Simply jump in and he'll drive you to Victoria in time for the continental express.

And where shall I meet you, Holmes?

A second coat from the front of the train.

A first-class carriage reserved for us.

Good night, Watson.

And as you value our lives, don't forget a single word of my instructions.

No, no, no, of course not Holmes.

Until we meet tomorrow then.

Until we meet?

I was infected myself with something of his own inner excitement and sense of menace.

I took the handsome and then the broom with its massive hooded driver.

I said nothing to him as I was instructed and he never spoke to me.

A moment later we were rattling to the station.

There he left me and drove off without a further glance.

His face still hidden.

There was no sign of Holmes and my heart sank miserably.

I found our reserved carriage but through some confusion a decrepit old Italian priest was sitting there.

The Morgom's came for departure.

Still, I waited by the window in a chill of fear.

School is a senior.

Pray, go.

I'm sorry, pardon me.

I don't speak Italian.

Nor do I, what parchment.

Oh, go, go, go.

Holmes.

No, come on.

No, come on.

Man, this is no laughing matter. I'm not yet in a way.

There.

See?

Stop the train.

It's Moriati himself.

A tall man?

He'll never do it.

Stop the train, I say.

This isn't awesome.

I beg you.

I beg you.

I beg you.

I beg you.

I beg you.

Even the great Moriati himself is helped us against the British railway system, Watson.

Well, well, it gives us an hour's respite at least.

But how did he know where we were?

By watching you, I expect.

But I did everything you told me.

Wait.

Holmes.

The driver of the road.

Oh, what about him?

He was muffled.

I didn't see his face.

It must have been one of Moriati's men.

Right.

Yeah, Watson.

It was nothing of a sort.

It was my brother, my craft.

Shaken for one side of his arm, chair, at the Diogenes Club.

Gore heavens.

The thing is serious, then, of course.

But at least we have an hour.

And I can use it to take off this disguise and think things over.

But we've escaped in all together, surely.

Since the train connects with the boat.

My dear fellow, you evidently don't realize even now.

Moriati is an opponent on practically the same intellectual plane as myself.

Do you really imagine that I, with a pursuer,

I would permit myself to get dattled by such slight obstacles and express train?

What will you do then?

What I should do, engage a special.

But in a too late, even then, I know means we stop at Canterbury, don't forget.

And then there's always the delay of a quarter of an hour when the train gets to Dover.

Oh, so you'd almost think we were the criminals to be chased like this?

You mean he'll catch us after all that?

I hope not.

We shan't be there, Watson.

Look, look here, Holmes.

I hate to grumble after all this time.

Really, I do think you ought to tell me what you mean.

Heaven bless you for a starting faithful friend, Watson.

I'm sorry.

It's only that...

Well, well, I don't want to expose you to danger, too.

That's why I'm being so mysterious.

It's very simple, really.

We should just get out at Canterbury.

Indeed.

I'm not going to come to dinner after all, I suppose.

Yes, we must do that.

We'd no choice but to hide away until after Monday when the evidence will have been completed.

You've not seen the papers this morning, I suppose.

Oh, earlier, Holmes, what time do you think I've had for that?

One must try to make time for everything, Watson.

You really should have read about Baker Street.

Hm?

What? Baker Street?

Yes, they set fire to our rooms last night.

Mrs. Hudson was away from home, fortunately,

and no one was hurt out there to say.

They thought I was there, of course.

For myself are things intolerable.

Yes, only till Monday, Watson and I, then we'll be in Switzerland.

We'll make a cross-country journey from Canterbury

and take the other boat from New Haven to Diepp.

Unless, of course, what?

Our friend, the professor, deduces what I would deduce

and gets off at Canterbury himself.

Hi.

That would truly be a coup d'etre.

He surely never would.

Well, I rather doubt it.

There are limits, even to his intelligence.

No, no.

I think we are safe in our old friend.

And now there's time for a pipe-pipe and say,

won't you join me, Watson?

And thus it befell.

As we hid behind the pile of luggage at Canterbury,

we saw the single carriage of the special

go thundering past us.

And so we made our way across Canterbury

and at last reached Switzerland.

It seemed we're heading you with him.

To fill in every detail of the final scene

is hardly possible since there was no witness to it.

Yet, from a certain source that I cannot yet devileve,

I do know something of that last encounter.

We wondered that our will through the lovely valley of the room

and made our way by way of interlocking

to the little township of Mirigan among the Alps.

The fatal Monday came and went.

And yet I was still aware of a strange feeble eye

excitement in my companion.

He was at times feverishly on the alert,

then sinking into river,

and would smile strangely to himself.

I went with him, on that last day of all,

on a visit to the falls of Reichenbach,

forever hallowed and yet cursed in my memory.

It's a fearful place indeed,

with a torrent, plunging far below

into a tremendous abyss,

a chasm lined by cold, black, glistening rock.

High above, a puff-waist didn't cut in the cliff face

to afford a better view,

but at the end he was abruptly in midair,

and the traveller had to return as he came.

We stood there giddily and marveling

at the great spectacle.

And on the instant came a message for me by a village lad

to say that an English lady back at the hotel was seriously ill

and needed my immediate attention.

I turned to go.

I looked back and I saw Holmes leaning against a rock

with his arms folded,

gazing down at the rush of the borders.

It was the last time I saw him.

Is that you, Watson?

Back already?

Well, Moriati.

Well, Sherlock Holmes.

You see, I found you after all.

And alone.

Alone, as indeed you must be too.

Now, if your confederates are all under lock and key,

I heard from Scott and Yard.

I escaped.

I was too clever for them, Holmes.

I damned that is.

But I'm afraid you're not too patient gone, Professor,

with your organisation destroyed,

unless you care to return to your mathematics.

It was not my intention.

I have another and more immediate intention, Sherlock Holmes.

Are you prepared?

But before we discuss that, perhaps you extend me one small courtesy

Professor?

No, sir, isn't it?

What is it?

My friend Watson, Professor.

No doubt he will be somewhat concerned.

May I just take a moment to scribble a note to him?

Certainly.

We can fix the paper beneath my elbow and stuff there,

as it doesn't blow away.

If they take as long as you wish.

That's very good of you.

Please, don't stop talking, Professor.

I had mastered long ago the art of writing and conversing at the same time.

Thank you.

You know, of course, that the message to write it up to Watson is a false one.

Oh, yes, of course.

I knew it at once.

And that it could only come from one source.

And yet you let him go?

Yes, Professor, I let him go.

I am not without some affection for him.

I do not wish to put his life in danger, too.

Besides?

Besides.

I've looked forward for a long time

to this final duel between us.

I believe it, Holmes.

You're a very remarkable man.

Many ways.

Many, many ways, sir.

And proud of you.

Oh, and are you, Professor?

There, my letter's done, then.

Perhaps you will be kind enough to place it as you suggested.

Now, how shall it be, Moriati?

I did not bring a fiscal home.

Thank you.

Your courtesy puts me to shame, Professor.

There is my crystal.

It goes into the fullness.

Hand to hand?

Yes.

Goodbye, Professor Moriati.

Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.

The end, the end.

When I returned to that broken pathway,

it was only too clear what had happened.

It needed no great application of Holmes' own methods of deduction.

Two sets of footsteps to the verge and none returning.

Locked in each other's arms as they fought,

they had gone down to their base.

Only the letter, the last greeting from my friends and comrades.

My dear dear Watson, you wrote?

My dear dear Watson.

I scribble this through the courtesy of Professor Moriati,

who awaits my convenience for the final discussion

of those eternal questions which lie before us.

There can be but one outcome,

although I fear that it is as a cost which will give pain to my friends

and especially my dear Watson to you.

I think, however, that I may go so far as to say

that I have not lived entirely in vain,

pray tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs

for a full conviction of the Moriati gang are in Pigeon Hall M.

Before leading England, I made every disposition of my property

and handed it over to my brother, Mycroft.

Pray give my affectionate greetings to Mrs. Watson

and remember me as I used to be in our old days at Baker Street,

facing to and fro with my violin

and driving you to a point of sad distraction

with that theme you still were good enough to say you loved.

Believe me to be my very dear good fellow,

yours must sincerely Sherlock Holmes.

Yours must sincerely Sherlock Holmes,

and so he perished,

whom I shall ever regard as the best and wisest man

that I have ever known.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,

based on the original stories of the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,

dramatized anew by John Keart Cross,

stars Sir John Gilgood as Sherlock Holmes,

Sir Ralph Richardson as Dr. Watson,

and today Orson Wells as Professor Moriati,

produced by Harry Allen Towers.

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