Sherlock Holmes - The Norwood Builder

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That's the best of those.

It's your photograph. For all of us, yes. New today, it was from something stupid.

Hi, he came to me with his cast on the morning of my wedding to Mr. Miss Arlen.

Have you ever told your son about this? I just want to call him. Why?

Because if the police were to learn that you can, they would mark it down as providing an additional market for him to have murdered his man.

But no case was too hopeless for my friend Sherlock Holmes when he was defending the life of an innocent man.

My name is Watson, Dr. Watson, and it was my privilege to show the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

I would tell you what happened in the case of the Norwood Doodah. Hardly any case began more abruptly, as you may judge yourself.

What? Mr. Sherlock Holmes? You mustn't blame me. I nearly met Mr. Holmes. I am the unhappy John Hector McFarland.

Have a cigarette, Mr. McFarland. I'm sure that with your symptoms, my friend Dr. Watson here would describe his visit.

Mr. Holmes? Oh, Mr. Holmes, I do beg your pardon. But the young gentleman does not stand on the head of me.

Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson. Just leave us, please. Stay well, sir.

Now, Mr. McFarland, you mentioned your name as if I should recognize it. But I assure you that beyond the obvious facts that you are a bachelor, a solicitor, and a fee-mason.

I know nothing but ever about you. But if you know all those things that are purely from observation, I assure you.

Do you, may I say it, the untightiness of your attire? The chief of legal documents protruding from the jacket pocket?

The Mussolique watch charm. Quite straight forward, eh, Watson?

Quite. Quite. I'm all of those. And in addition, I'm the most unfortunate man in London at this moment.

I appeal to you, Mr. Holmes. If they come to arrest me before I finish telling you my story, make them give me time to tell you the whole truth.

For the murder of Mr. Jonas Oldick at a law note.

Hell, him?

Through Watson.

It was only a moment ago, Mr. McFarland, that I was remarking to my friend that sensational cases had quite disappeared out of our newspaper.

Is that so? Then you haven't looked very closely at that one there.

See? On the very front page.

Indeed. Watson, if you'd be so good.

No, sir, no, him.

The spirits of hell had learned the word, suspicion of murder and ask.

There, about two o'clock last night, an alarm was given that a stack of timbum was on fire at the yard of Mr. Jonas Oldick, or a woman, builder of law, and no word.

The engines were soon upon the spot, but it was impossible to arrest the conflagration until the stack had been entirely consumed.

Surprise was expressed to the absence of the owner of the establishments, and investigations revealed that a murderous struggle had apparent to take in place in his study, where slight traces of blood were found.

An open walking stick found a wall of blood stained on its handle and the safe had been opened and papers scattered about the room.

It is known that Mr. Oldick has received a visit yesterday evening, a young London solicitor named John Hector McFarlane, who is now being sought by the police for his help in their enquiries.

You see, now we got the stoppers. They're below what here, yes.

Police, their evict him was cut to death in his room, papers rifled and dead body dragged across the wood pile, which was then ignited since the hide-all places of the crime.

Great heavens.

Yes, the case has certainly some points of interest.

May I ask Mr. McFarlane how it is that you're still at liberty.

I live with my parents at Blackheat, but last night, having to do business with Mr. Oldick in the evening, I've stayed in hotel at Norwood.

I knew nothing of this affair until I read that newspaper account on the train to the city, but I hurried at once to put the case in your hands.

As a matter of fact, I swear I'm and followed me out of London, bitch station.

John Hector McFarlane, I arrest you for the moveful murder of Mr. Jones Oldick.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Very good.

Now McFarlane, it's my duty to warn you that anything you say will be taken down and made it put in evidence in this train.

This gentleman is on the point of giving us an account of the affair, which might aid in tearing it up.

All right, McFarlane, get on with this for it.

I must explain first that I knew nothing of John Hector except that my parents had been acquainted with them many years ago.

So I was very much surprised to get a request to go out to his home yesterday evening and advise him on a legal matter.

Well, I got to his house soon after nine, and was let in by a middle-aged woman, his housekeeper I took of me.

Oh, my dear young sir, do come in.

Thank you, sir.

A big part, and shall I say supper now?

In a few minutes, Mr. Dickington, I'll just equate my young friend here with the business I have for him, and then we can discuss it further over the meal.

Will that to suit you, Mr. McFarlane?

Anything you say, Mr. Oldick.

Very good, sir.

Very good of you to come all this way, Mr. McFarlane.

I knew your parents many years ago, you know.

I have heard your name, I know, doubt, no doubt.

Well now, to come straight to the point, I ask you here this evening to attend to my will.

I see, if you'll read the will for yourself, you'll discover why I sent for you.

Very well, here it is.

Thank you.

John Hector.

It's short and to the point, you see.

Oh, Mr. Oldick, this will leave your entire estate to me.

I am the most deserving recipient, so my inquire is a firm.

But I don't understand.

It's quite straightforward, my dear young sir.

I am a bachelor, regard me a living relation in the world.

I knew your parents in my youth.

As yourself, I have always heard it said that you are diligent and thoroughly deserving.

Therefore, I choose to make you my heir.

I don't know what to say.

Now, simply assure me, as a lawyer, that the will is in proper form.

I shall sign it, Mrs. Lexington shall witness, and then we'll have supper.

With the greatest pleasures, a better number of papers,

type of eat more, which is script and so on, which I should like you to examine,

you will inherit them all someday, and a few words of qualification

now will save you in the searching when that time comes.

May that time be long delayed.

I share your wish, Mr. McFarland.

I think everything is taken into account now.

I'll put all these papers back in the safe when you've gone.

Oh, goodness me, it's nearly midnight.

It's been a pleasure, sir.

Indeed.

Oh, I don't go that way, if you don't mind, or the doors creak,

and I shouldn't wish to disturb Mrs. Lexington unnecessarily.

If you wouldn't mind the French window, of course not.

I did have a tear somewhere, I'm sure.

Have you misdeed something?

My stick.

Yes, I'm sure I had it with me.

You did.

I don't recall.

I will, my boy.

I shall see a good deal of you now, I hope.

If your stick turns up, I'll keep it here until you can come back

to claim it.

It'll be a great pleasure, sir.

I'll let you know.

The safe open, the papers and packets on the table.

It was too late to get home, so I spent the night in a hotel in Norwood.

I knew nothing more until I read of this horrible affair in the morning paper.

All right then.

And I'm served.

Anything you'd like to ask?

Not until I've been to bless you.

Oh, yes.

No doubt that is what I must have meant.

Constable.

Constable.

Sir, take him away.

I'll follow you later.

Mr. Home.

I shall do everything I can, Mr. McFarlane.

Thank you, sir.

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You're left.

You'll cry, and gasp and horror as the show spirals completely out of control.

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It's emotionally unstable.

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I put my trust in you this way.

Will, Mr. Home.

The case is not clear to me at the straight.

What about you, Watson?

Well, looks pretty quick up to me.

I'm afraid.

Exactly not, Watson.

My goodness, straight.

You don't add imagination to your other great qualities.

But if you could, for one moment, put yourself in this young man's place.

Would you choose the very night to will have been signed to commit your crime?

Wouldn't it seem dangerous to you to make a very closer relation between the two incidents?

Well, no.

Would you choose a location when you're known to be in the house by the servant who'll let you in?

And would you really take the greatest pains to conceal the body?

And yet leave your own stick lying about as a sign that you were the criminal?

Confess to straight.

It's all very unlikely.

If you know as well as I do, the criminal is often flooded and dusting the cool man would avoid.

Suppose some tramp, lurking in the garden, had seen the dark human stare in the room

with a safe wide open and papers all over the table, exit the solicitor into the tramp.

He teases a stick which he finds there, kills though they ca' burns his body and the parts.

But why should a tramp burn the body?

Why should the fallen get rid of some evidence?

Possibly the tramp wanted to conceal the fact that any murder at all had been committed.

Why did the tramp take nothing?

Because he found they were just papers he couldn't negotiate.

Well, Mr. Holmes, you look for your tramp.

Just remember one thing, though.

So far as his known, none of those papers were removed.

And our prisoners were one man in the world who had every reason to leave them all there intact.

Since he'd soon elated them anyway.

I don't deny that the evidence favors your theory strongly, Mr. Stade.

I only wish to point out that there are other theories possible.

Well, honest to go.

They're left.

And looking at Norwood, if you're passing, and see how they get gone.

Who, by gentlemen?

A good pilot.

Well, he's got a strong face home.

Now, what's it?

If you kindly help me with my coat?

Oh, certainly.

Will you do it?

Bless me, as I said.

Well, I'll just get my coat in.

No, no, no, my dear, sir.

I don't think you can help me.

Oh, boy.

Berlin?

There's no prospects of danger.

I shouldn't dream of staring without you.

I suspect that when I see you again this evening,

I shall have been able to do something for this song.

Yes, sir.

Thank you.

You'd be back the longer ago.

It's all going wrong, Watson.

Really?

British juries have not yet attained that pitch of intelligence

where they'll give preference to my theories

over the straits' facts.

Did you go to black youth?

I did.

Young my father's father was away,

but his mother was at home.

A little fluffy, blue-eyed person.

Oh, son, it's not guilty, Mr. Holmes.

I wouldn't have received the possibility of it.

I said, you're so deep.

You're facing neither surprises nor distracting me.

I'm missing the color.

He was more like a malignant and funny ape than a human being.

Oh, isn't he even a young man?

I can't see that man.

I've gone as dead as a blessing.

You knew him from his youth?

Oh, I knew him well.

He was asking me to marry him.

I think he hasn't had the best of you.

What was his answer to that?

He has no choice.

I have his own soul and soul.

What do you think of us, Mr. Holmes?

It's your photograph.

For all of them, yes.

Nutanated with some sharpness to me.

I think it's to me with his cush

on the morning of my wedding to Mr. McFarlane.

The scene.

Have you ever chose your son with this?

I didn't see.

Oh, why?

Because it the police must have learned that you have.

They would mark it down as well.

I don't know.

Well, at least it could be argued

that he would cast away until the end of his wife's life

before doing them.

No, they can't let all his property or something.

Neither my son nor I want anything from the police

or they can't let all of them live.

Nothing, Mr. Holmes.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Now all you've got was more evidence against your part.

Nothing to help our own hypothesis, isn't it?

Boom.

What'd you do off there?

I went to Old Acres Place.

They just made a great treasure trove.

What more of a kind of treasure?

Clouser button.

Houseer button.

It spent the morning raking among the ashes of the burnt wood pile.

And a number of trouser buttons had come to life.

This is Lexington.

The housekeeper swore they were once she'd sewn on to Old Acres.

And she's Lexington, eh?

Did you have a word with her home?

I did, Watson.

And I'm convinced that she could tell us something

if she wanted to.

A little dark woman,

as close as Wes.

I wish now my hand was with it,

but I could tell the story.

Yes, yes, Mrs. Lexington.

I want to appreciate your distress.

Who would she just ask for?

This chair doesn't go.

And Mrs. Lexington, what time do you yourself retire with it?

Up until 10,

outside here where there's that thing washed out.

And where is your room in relation to Mr. Old Acres?

At the fire end of the house,

I heard nothing of what happened.

What would work you eventually?

People banged on the door with the enormous fire.

I'd graze in the basement.

I could steal the dress,

but it was terrible.

It was terrible.

Quite amazing to think of her sleeping right through a death struggle.

Like that?

True, Watson.

I feel it in my bones,

but there's something that hasn't come out.

I could read it in her eyes.

That sort of stuffy defiance

which only goes with guilty knowledge.

But unless some lucky chance comes our way,

I fear that the case of the Norwood builder

will not figure in the chronicle of our successes.

That's true.

I wish I could suggest something home.

There is one curious little boat.

What's that?

I examined Old Acres bank,

or amongst the other papers.

She had balanced, struck these rather small, for a man of such means.

So I looked back to be introduced during the last year.

I found that a number of large checks have been made out to a Mr. Cornelius.

Who is he?

I don't know.

His name didn't appear in any of the documents.

Come in.

What is it, Mr. Hudson?

A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes.

Oh, thank you.

Is there a reply, sir?

No, no, thank you.

Very good, sir.

Well, that appears to be that.

From the Strait?

Yes.

Important fresh evidence to hand,

McFarlane's guilt definitely established

advised you to abandon the case.

It's the Straits that will cock a noodle of victory,

so I'm serious.

And yet it may be premature to abandon the case.

Important fresh evidence could be a two-edged thing.

It may just possibly cut in a very different direction

from the one the Strait imagined.

Come on, my dear fellow.

If he didn't need of your company and model support today,

we'll go out to Norwood and see what we can do.

Have you found your treb?

I have found no conclusion to the Strait.

In step this way, gentlemen.

And I think I could convince him once and for all.

See this head back?

Yes.

Well, that's where Young McFarlane will come out to get his head.

Oh, dear, the crime was done.

Now, I'll strike a light.

So gloomy in here.

Now, look at this.

A fingerprint.

In blood.

Actually, a thumbprint, doctor.

Look at it through your limbs, Mr. Holmes.

Yes, I'm doing so.

You are aware that duty and thumbprints are alike?

I have heard something of the kind.

Now, let's hold this next to it.

The wax impression of McFarlane's thumb taken by my own is this morning.

Hmm.

That's funnel.

Yes, that's funnel.

It is final.

But what a povid-dential thing that this young man should press his right thumb

to give the world and take his hat from the day.

Such a very natural action, too.

Oh, by the way, Lestrade.

You made this remarkable discovery.

It was a housekeeper.

Mrs. Ricksington.

But why didn't the police see this mark earlier?

I suppose there is no doubt that it was there earlier.

Hey.

Oh, I'll be about the place if you want me.

I've got to report to get on with.

But a point about this development that holds us some new hopes for him.

What?

I'm delighted to hear that.

You see, there's one really serious flaw in this new discovery.

In the home?

What is it?

No, it is.

But I know that thumbprint was not there when I exited this haul earlier.

Good question.

Now, come along.

I wish to inspect this whole house inside and out.

And then we'll trouble the state to grant us one final indulge.

Do you like Mr. Holmes?

I understood that you were writing a report of this case.

So I am.

Do you think it might be a little premature?

What?

I can't help thinking that your evidence is not complete.

What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?

Only that there's an important witness whom you have not seen.

Who?

Have you reduced it?

I think I can.

How many constables had you?

Two within coal.

Both large, able-bodied men with powerful voices with power.

Well, that wish has got to do with it.

Kindly summon them here and tell them to bring a considerable cross-dave straw.

Straw?

Yes.

And two bundles will do.

Oh, and a couple of buckets of water.

Now, if you have his bones, if you know something, you can say it without always compuring.

I assure you, my goodness, that I have an excellent reason for everything I do.

Kindly ask the constables to bring the things to the top landing of the house as soon as possible.

Now, just pile the straw together here, my goodness.

And...

Right, you are said.

Now, we have the buckets and red in it.

Oh, here's the cap.

Will one of you open that window, please?

Yes, it.

Watson?

Yes, Holmes.

Have you a box of matches about you?

Of course, yes, sir.

There are.

Now, kindly put a match to the edge of that straw.

What?

Oh, that's very welcome.

Now, as the draft from the window carries the smooth down the corridor,

might I ask you all to join the cry of fire?

Yes, sir.

Now, ready?

One, two, three.

Fire!

I probably once again.

Fire!

Just one small chance, but then all together, Watson.

Oh.

Fire!

Hello.

What's in here?

For the love of Hettens, save me.

Hold him, someone.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Watson.

I've added a water over that straw to be.

I am it.

Thank you, Watson.

Now, let's pray.

I allow me to present you with your missing witness, Mr. Jonas Olbaker.

Olbaker?

I've done no harm.

You've got nothing against me.

No harm.

You've done your best to get an innocent man paying picture.

It was only my practical joke.

Oh, a joke for this.

You won't find the love on your side.

I promise you.

Constable.

Yeah?

Taking downstairs in the city room until I come.

Is it?

Mr. Holmes, I...

You've saved an innocent man's life and you've prevented a scandal that...

Well, about a ruin my reputation in the force.

Cheer up, Listed.

Instead of being ruined, you'll find your reputation enormously enhanced.

You mean you know what your name will appear?

Not at all.

The work is its own reward.

Well, let's see where that rat has been lurking.

And is that joy suddenly came out of it?

I never noticed it.

No.

Because it was so well concealed.

He's a builder, remember?

See here this little partition?

Yes.

It's almost impossible to distinguish.

He was able to fix up his own little hiding place without any confederate.

Fate that precious husky birth is.

By the by, I should lose no time in any 30 or bagless thread.

So what if you won't get far?

Yes, but Holmes, I won't hurt you.

You know you was in the house at all.

The thumb mark.

I'd examined the hole that they before and the mark had not been there.

Therefore, it had been made since.

But McPharlan was on the lock and key.

When they were sealing those documents,

they got McPharlan to secure one of the seals by pressing his thumb into the hot wax.

Perhaps it wasn't even contrived to live virtually.

But later, brooding in that hiding place of his old acre remembered it.

And it suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence he could make against McPharlan

by using that thumb mark.

It was the simplest thing in the world to get his husky but affection,

the sealants of wax, from which he made an impression.

Then all he had to do was to moisten it for as much blood as he could get from a thin prick in his own finger

and get hurt to impress the mark on the wall when nobody was a match.

It's wonderful.

It's clear as crystal when you put it like this.

But what she's all about, Mr. Holmes?

Ah, a very deep, malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who's now awaiting his downstairs.

You know that he was once refused by McPharlan's mother?

No.

No, I didn't know that.

You didn't.

I told you to go to Blackheed first to know what I was going to do.

Oh, dear, yes, I know myself.

Well, this injury, as he would consider it, has wrinkled in his wicked, scheming brain.

All his life, he's long for vengeance but never seen his chance.

And now he suddenly finds himself in a bad way financially.

To save himself, he pays large checks to Mr. Cornelius, whom I've no doubt is himself.

He intended to disappear under that name, thus escaping his credit as once and for all.

And contrived his death to put him off his belt.

He didn't know where to stop, eh?

No.

That supreme gift of the artist was lacking.

He wished to improve what was already perfect to draw the rope tight-a-yet around his victim's neck.

And in so doing, he ruined all.

Diabolical.

Mr. Holmes, I congratulate you.

Now, let us descend the straight.

But I wanted two questions, I would ask him.

It was a joke, my good sir.

I'm sure that you wouldn't be so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarland.

There's the jury to decide.

And you will probably find that your creditors will impose the banking account of Mr. Cornelius.

I have to thank you for a good deal, Mr. Holmes.

Perhaps I will pay my debt someday.

I've been saying that for some few years you will find your time very fully occupied.

But by the way, what was it you put into the wood pile beside the trouser buttons?

A dead dog or a reddit, so what?

Oh, you won't tell.

You and me how very unkind of it.

Well, well, if ever you write an account what see you can make reddit.

Sir, your turn.

The case of the Robert Dilder was one of the Sherlock Holmes stories in the Instart-Tennis-Rathe-Colonel Doyle.

My name, my real name, is Norman Shedding.

My friend Carlton Hobb's page, Sherlock Holmes, and I was Dr. Watson.

Michael Hardwick wrote the script for this BBC production from London.

And I look forward to the pleasure of your company again soon for more or of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.