Sherlock Holmes - The Final Problem

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 French

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 men.

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 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, Mr. Holmes.

It was in the spring of 1891.

You will remember, perhaps, that after my marriage and returns to 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.

And 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.

Ah, good evening, Holmes.

Have you a cigarette for me?

Oh, I'm a cigarette.

Great heavens, man, how ill you look.

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

No objection if I close your window shutters.

No, of course not.

Yeah, you're not afraid of anything, are you?

You're not afraid of the truth, I am, brother.

But I'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 is especially designed by an old

acquaintance of ours.

Who?

What Professor Maliati?

They call only me he from your tone?

The same.

A match, give me a match with you, my dear fellow.

Yes, of course.

Oh, thank you.

Is Mrs. Watson at home?

I don't know.

She's on a visit to an arm.

How good.

How good.

Good, good.

That makes it easier for me to propose that you should come away with me for a few

days.

Oh, delighted?

Look where?

Oh, the continent.

Somewhere broad.

Hm?

A broad?

Yeah, 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, now, than you never did quite believe in the

iniquities of Maliati, did you, Watson, you've said some more than once?

I felt you exaggerated a bit, after all, Professor Maliati's were respectable, together

in public life.

Just 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.

Oh, I can't quite believe that.

More, of course, to the world he's still the Professor, the 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.

Oh, 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.

Maliati?

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

That great white dome of a thawed, those hooded eyes, and a white face pushed forward,

oscillating from sight to sight like a snake.

Of course.

Of course, if you believe the old, a heresy of physiognomy, and only that, of course not.

I've worked for years to follow a thousand different threads, and every one of them has led

to Maliati.

He's an Napoleon of crime, Watson, the secret organizer of almost everything evil that

goes undetected in this great city of ours.

He sits and motionless like a spider in the center of its web, a web with a thousand

strands that he controls them, everyone.

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

Every day, my knit is drawing 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, and I want to think, and suddenly there

he was, standing in the doorway, with his white face swaying and an evil way, peering at

me with his hooded eyes.

Good morning.

Professor Mariati.

Good morning to you.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe.

How very charming do you play.

I'll kind of you to say so.

Won't you be seated, Professor Mariati?

I can spare you just five minutes.

I think you really got to go.

Thank you.

I will sit down.

May I say something personal, Mr. Holmes, certainly?

Well, surprise to discover that you are rather less cranial development than I might have

expected.

Well, as you on the contrary 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?

Well, perhaps I only suggested, 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, supposing we lay our pistols and our cards on

the table.

By all means, I was about to suggest it myself, ah, I see you favor the Mauser type, Mr.

Holmes, and without a silence, I must permit me to present you sometime with one of

the small devices of my own design, now quite convenient and avoiding unpleasant noise,

you know.

I better kind of you, 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.

Ah, 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

silence, sir.

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

I've read in those accounts of Dr. Watson that somehow drove that into it.

You've heard about a nearby friend of yours with those marks on the wall there in the

revolver practice.

Quite so.

The initials there.

We are Victoria, Regina, God save our majesty.

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

One side of the years is a little short, I think.

From it, I think correct the slip.

Admiral Professor Mariade, 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, 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, I'll sense it in the beginning.

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

now.

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 a dueling 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.

You are, Mr. Holmes, I apologize.

We who are about to die, salute him.

Please do.

You are very certain, aren't you, Professor Mariate, 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 simply cannot go on.

It won't, I assure 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, 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 that you crossed my path on the 4th of January, Holmes.

On the 23rd, you included me.

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

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.

And 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, Mariate, 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 my.

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'm as fairly ask you to excuse me in the pleasure

of our conversation.

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

Very well.

It seems a pity is, sir, don't know, done what I could.

I admit that it's been an intellectual pleasure, need to see the way in which you grapple

to this affair, but I tell you solemnly, sir, our homes, 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 letter.

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, we leave for the continent.

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

Already one or two accidents are nearly performing me today.

Upon myself.

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.

Aha, 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.

Are you ready for one to call?

No, no, you really must have, baby, 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 the toilet 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, I am.

Listen carefully.

It's a bikele.

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?

The second coach from the front of the train of 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.

It's not home 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 racking 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 mograms came for departure, but still I waited by the window in a chill of fear.

Even the great Moriate himself has 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 up.

Wait, Holmes, the driver of the broad.

What about him?

He was muffled.

I didn't see his face.

It must have been one of Moriate's men.

Right.

Watson, it was nothing of a sort.

It was my brother, my craft.

Traken for one side of his arm, charred at the Diojeanese club.

Core heavens, the thing is charred as them, 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 altogether, surely, since the train connects with the boat.

My dear fellow, you evidently don't realise even now, but Moriate is an opponent on

practically the same intellectual plane as myself.

Do you really imagine that I were the pursuer?

I would permit myself to get duttled by such a slight obstacle as an express train.

What can we 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 of them?

I hope not.

We shan't be there, Watson.

Look, look here, Holmes, I hate to grumble after all this time, but really, I do think

you ought to tell me what you mean.

I haven't blessed you for a stubborn, 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 in without you 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, really?

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

One must try to make time for everything, Watson.

I'm really sure a bit about Baker Street.

Hmm?

What?

Baker Street?

Yes, they set fire to our rooms last night.

Mrs. Hudson was away from home, fortunately, and no one was hurt, I would have to say.

They thought I was there, of course.

For my soul, the thing's 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, our friend, the professor, deduces what I would deduce and gets off

at Canterbury himself.

Huh?

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're safe enough, old friend.

And now, there's time for a pipe-pipe and say, won't you join me, Watson?

And thus it be fair, as we hid behind a pile of luggage at Canterbury, we saw the

single carriage of the special, gulf, thundering past us.

And so we made our way across country, and at last reached Switzerland.

It seemed we had in 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 devouse, 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 Nirrigan among the Alps.

The fatal Monday came and went, and yet I was still aware of a strange feeble eye of excitement

in my companion.

He was at times feverishly on the alert, then sinking into robbery 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.

A high above a pathways didn't cut in the cliff face to afford a better view, but it

airs us abruptly in midair, and the traveller has to return as he came.

We stood there, giddily marveling of the great spectacle, and only 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 leaving 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!

Where?

Moriati.

Where was Sherlock Holmes?

You see, I found you after all, under load.

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 them, that is.

But I'm afraid your occupation's 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, certainly.

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 have mastered longer ago the art of writing and conversing at the same time.

Thank you.

You know, of course, that the message would arrive at Doctor Watson as a false one.

Oh, yes, of course.

I knew he'd have 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.

I'm proud to have known 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 forms.

Hand to hand.

Yes.

Good bye, Professor Moriati.

Good bye.

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.

Old liver letter.

The last greeting from my friends and comrades.

My dear dear Watson, he 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 fast to say that I have not lived entirely in vain.

Pray tell Inspector Paterson that the papers which he needs for a full conviction of the Moriati gang are in Pigeon Hall M.

Before leaving England, I made every disposition of my property and handed it over to my brother, Mycroft.

Pray I 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 Kierkross, stars Sir John Gilgud as Sherlock Holmes, Sir Ralph Richardson as Dr. Watson,

and today Orson Wells as Professor Moriati, produced by Harry Allen Towers.

The End

The End

The End

The End

The End