-
W. A knock on the door at 221b Baker Street. As I opened the door, there stood a visitor.
H. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I presume?
-
W.. No, I'm Doctor Watson. Mr. Holmes is
away. Could I be of any assistance?
H.. It was the great detective himself I wanted to see. I hear of Sherlock, everywhere. But I've often thought that with my age and experience, I could do as well in the science of deduction.
-
W.. Then go ahead. Tell me about myself, and this room, for example.
- H..You served as an army surgeon, in Afghanistan I perceive. But now you are settled in London. You have just returned from a house call to one of your patients. Distracted by that banana, you did not realize that an intruder has invaded these rooms.
-
W.. You couldn't possibly know that.
H.. Elementary, my dear Watson.
-
W.. Holmes! You never cease to amaze me with your disguises.
H.. Watson, turn down the lights. Don't say a word. The adult miniature mamba.
-
W.. Poisonous.
H.. I have no wish to involve you in this affair.
-
W.. What's going on, Holmes?
H.. I foiled a robbery at the Louvre in Paris. The Museum gave me that canvas as a token of their gratitude.
-
W.. Not a Rembrandt is it?
H.. No, but it is worth at least half a dozen.
-
W.. Who's it painted by?
H.. The Frenchman, Jacques Blaisé.
-
W.. Never heard of him.
H.. It's a forgery of course. Let me explain. This imitation saved several Rembrandts from being stolen by a gang of art thieves. I used that forgery as bait. And thus the thieves were lured right into the hands of the Paris Police Force ... Back to the zoo you go, old boy.
-
W.. This painting is growing on me.
H.. Alas, the leader of the gang eluded me. He's back in London. Sitting like a spider in the center of his web. I tell you Watson, frauds have made their way into the British Museum.
-
W.. How do you know?
H.. My older brother Mycroft put one there himself.
-
W.. Mycroft? But he works for the Foreign Office. He can't do that.
H.. Yes he can. He’s a diplomat. You see, many years ago, We stole a statue from Greece. There was a quarrel, which led to a settlement. We would return the statue back to Greece if, the they would give us a very good reproduction.
-
W.. That's sounds like a fair exchange.
H.. Quite, except, the original was never on display at the British Museum. It was a counterfeit that the people would see. As I told you, my brother Mycroft placed the it there himself.
-
W.. A counterfeit in the Museum? Then where was the Greek original stored?
H.. It was sitting in my brother’s office in London.
-
W.. Why would Mycroft do a thing like that?
H.. Because it was the counterfeit in the Museum that we kindly surrendered to the Greeks.
-
W.. You mean the Greeks ended up with a fake?
H.. Yes.
-
W.. Where’s the original now?
H.. Mycroft put it back in the British Museum.
-
W.. You mean, the Museum is now showing the original?
H.. You've got it, Watson.
-
W.. Then where did the reproduction go?
H.. It's sitting across from my Brother's desk, at the Foreign Office. No one there can tell the difference.
-
W.. This is all very strange.
H.. I told you, it's diplomacy.
-
W.. Unbelievable. But how did they fool the experts at the British Museum?
H.. You forget, Watson, that Scotland Yard is full of experts, yet they call upon us for assistance.
-
W.. You're right. Even the most brainless criminal can evade Scotland Yard.
H.. Ah.. But the man who planted the snake is entirely different. He's no fool.
-
W.. He's a lunatic
H.. He planted the snake to test my powers.
-
W.. You passed that test, Holmes.
H.. My art is no forgery.
-
W.. Stealing pictures from a Museum in Paris is one thing, but invading our privacy? It's beneath the British criminal class.
H.. Watson, don't move.
-
W.. Great Scott!
H.. That spider is considerably well read.
-
W.. I could have been bitten.
H.. I had my eye on it. I simply let the spider do the walking for me.
-
W.. This is intolerable, Holmes!
H.. Observe the title.
-
W.. The Binomial Theorem. What kind of depraved lunatic is he?
H.. You should not be informed.
-
W.. You have no right to leave me in the dark.
H.. I advise you to seek other accommodations.
-
W.. I share the rent with you.
H.. I pay the greater part.
-
W.. Holmes, don't you want my help in this mystery? Who is the man?
H.. I see the man's shadow everywhere, but never the man himself. His shadow appears in too many of my cases.
-
W.. What cases?
H.. The cases I cannot solve!
-
W.. Holmes was not himself since returning from Paris. The old problem. That infernal drug addiction. Poor chap, he can't help himself. He's in no mood to accept my advice, even though I am a doctor, and a damn good one.
H.. Mr. Alfie Trotwood is at the door. Kindly show him, Watson.
-
W.. In walked, a curious looking man. He was a thief, recently retired.
H.. Ah, Mr. Trotwood. To you I must attribute most of my knowledge of opening locked windows. Still Fleet of fingers?
-
ALFIE. Oh, but it's you who's been good to me, Mr. Holmes. I might of had the habits of a criminal in former times, but never the mind of one. You got me out of the muck and got me a proper job, at the British Museum.
H.. That's because I see something of value in you, Alfie. How may I be of service to you today?
-
ALFIE. I have a note for you, from Sir Charles down at the Museum.
H.. The director of the British Museum.
-
ALFIE. He found the bones of the ancient Piltdown Man. But I've got me own theory about it all.
H.. Go ahead, Alfie.
-
ALFIE. Pretend that I'm a detective, like yourself.
H.. Then you should sit in my chair.
-
ALFIE. Now. We know that us men, are missing some ribs, down about here. Well. Where'd them bones go? That's the mystery.
H.. Go on.
-
ALFIE. The facts of the case. Sir Charles says the Piltdown Man is very ancient, doesn't he. But. Who are the oldest people we know of?
H.. Other than the Piltdown Man, the oldest fossil yet discovered is the jaw from the Heidelberg Man, in Germany.
-
ALFIE. Oh no. Adam and Eve are the oldest people. So that would make the Piltdown Man a much younger bloke. Am I right?
H.. I reserve judgement, but continue.
-
ALFIE. Now. One morning, when Adam woke up, he was not as hard as he used to be. What happened? He was missing a few of his own ribs. Who took them?
H.. You tell me. You're the detective.
-
ALFIE. God took them while Adam was sleeping. Fact.
H.. According to the Bible.
-
ALFIE. Precisely. God took them to make Eve. What's that make Eve then, I ask you Mr. Holmes?
H.. An accomplice?
-
ALFIE. No.
H.. I give up. I've never understood Eve.
-
ALFIE. Eve is the missing link between God, and man. Now. Adam and Eve had little blighters, didn't they? And they had babes. Right? So. Where are those missing bones, today?
H.. I still haven't a clue.
-
ALFIE. They're spread all over the world. Mankind. Forget about the apes. We've got those bones, right down here. Mystery solved.
H.. You have the genesis of an interesting theory, Alfie.
-
ALFIE. Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Between you and me, if I did have a few extra bones to spare, Eve could relieve me of the inconvenience.
H.. Inform Sir Charles, I will meet him this very afternoon.
-
ALFIE. Will do.
H.. Alfie, Do you have something else on your mind.
-
ALFIE. Cor.!!.. Wish you'd teach me that trick.
H.. Pure observation and inference. Describe the matter to me.
-
ALFIE. It's me aunt. She's lost a tin of paint. Vanished!
H..Briefly lay out the facts before me.
-
ALFIE. Now and then I work for my aunt in her shop in White Chapel. Not burglary. She's a rag-and-bone lady.
H.. I have visited those shops, in the district.
-
ALFIE. Maybe you knew her husband, Toddy Jimmy, before he died. Men who dig in pits and quarries would bring him strange looking rocks and skeletal bones. And between ourselves, if the shop was short of inventory, Jimmy would have them dug up straight out of graves.
H.. Well, there's no shortage of the dead in England. Pray continue.
-
ALFIE. Me aunt had fallen on hard times after Jimmy died. Her customers were fussy. They'd say, have you got a greenstone with a reddish tinge? What was she to do? She said to me, Green, blue or red, what's the difference. Nothing like a bit of paint to do the trick. So her customers got the color what they wanted and she got paid. And that gave her an idea. I saw her fit together the wings of a bird with bones of a rat. She put a bit of paint on it and what'd yah get? A flying rat from ancient times. A very good seller.
H.. Now tell me, Alfie. Who would frequent your aunt's shop.. her name?
-
ALFIE. Mrs. Mansfield. Oh, all kinds, locals, tourists, foreigners. I recognized some of them.
H.. Some of the locals.
-
ALFIE. I remember one old bloke from where I work.
H.. At the Museum.
-
ALFIE. That's right.
H.. Which department?
-
ALFIE. To do with rocks.
H.. Geologist ?
-
ALFIE. That's it. Very smart man. He bought one of her flying rats.
H.. Did he now ?
-
ALFIE. He laughed and asked what kind of paint she used on the bones. I was ready to show him the tin of paint, when I started feeling a pain in me side.
H.. Perhaps Doctor Watson should have a look at you.
-
ALFIE. No. Me aunt gave me a poke in the ribs.
H.. I see, Back to the missing tin.
-
ALFIE. Now her pockets were full of extra money. She needed another hiding place. So I said, what about that old empty paint tin? Good idea, Alfie. And she put the money in the tin and put it down on a shelf. I didn't think anyone would look in there, since what else could be in paint tin, other than, paint?
H.. And so the money disappeared.
-
ALFIE. It did. And the tin.
H.. Of course.
-
ALFIE. But not the lid, because I've got it.
H.. Van Dyke Brown Paint. Quality, that won't Faint. You have indeed done me a courtesy.
-
ALFIE. Have I now, Mr. Holmes? There is a sad ending to my story.
H.. Many a sad ending comes from White Chapel.
-
ALFIE. The geologist from the Museum. He fell to his death in a rock quarry.
H.. Ah. I read the notice of his death in the newspaper on my way back from Paris. Yes! A pink umbrella was found beside the body. George Skullion.
-
ALFIE. That's him.
H.. Brilliant geologist, from the Museum. Your case is most singular.
-
ALFIE. Let me return the favour, Mr. Holmes. I'll give you and Doctor Watson a bit of a tour of the Museum just before you see, Sir Charles.
H.. Most kind of you.
-
ALFIE. Be ever so grateful for your help in finding me Aunt's money. She needs it to pay the rent.
H.. One last thing, Alfie. For the sake of my landlady, Mrs. Hudson, please be careful with the front door.....The new coat of paint is not yet dry.
-
ALFIE. Right you are, Mr. Holmes. Bloody hell.
W.. How does Alfie do it, Holmes?
H.. Do what, Watson?
-
W.. Open a locked window?
H.. He waits until the window is opened for him.
-
W.. Don't waste your time on Alfie Trotwood. The Museum probably pays him a pittance.
H.. Then I will take the case on without compensation. The Museum, the Brain-case of the great mind of London. The Museum is where we shall begin my investigation.
-
W.. Ah. I’d like to see that Greek statue. The original one, I think?
H.. Come to the window. Do you see that man leaning against the railing down there?
-
W.. Yes. Do you know him?
H.. Engage him in conversation until I appear downstairs.
-
W.. Whatever for?
H.. I wish to observe the man.
-
W.. Was he the intruder?
H.. I'll leave that up to you.
-
W.. Don't be too long..
I stepped onto the pavement and searched for the man. He had vanished into thin air... Don't think you can fool me, Holmes. I know what you're doing up there. You're jabbing yourself with that needle again, confound it. There must be a specialist who can wean you off of that accused cocaine. Settle you down.
Holmes and I took a hansom to the British Museum. We soon found ourselves at the edge of a large crowd gathered around a new exhibit, an incredible diamond. Well guarded. Impossible to steal.
The exhibit was arranged by Lady Adamson. She was the Warden of the Museum's gem collection. And of course her famous brother was, Sir Charles, discoverer of the ancient Piltdown Man. Together, they led the operation of the Museum.
-
LADY A.. Might I make a deduction, Sir. You are the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. Welcome to the Museum.
H.. And you must be Lady Adamson. This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.
-
LADY A.. What do think of the Star of Delhi, Mr. Holmes?
H.. If ever a precious gem dripped of blood, it must be the Star of Delhi.
-
LADY A.. One hundred and two and a half carats. Refractive index 2.465.
W.. Lady Adamson, I heard about the diamond while serving in the army in India. I was struck by an Afghan bullet, you know.
LADY A.. Mr. Holmes, as Warden of the gem collection, I can arrange a private viewing, just the two of us. That would give me, the greatest satisfaction.
H.. I accept.
.. If memory serves, Lady Adamson won a scholarship for mathematics as a student.
-
W.. A most excellent formula in that perfume. Heavenly.
H.. A lady of many accomplishments. She also won a fencing championship.
-
W.. Not a very lady like thing to be doing.
H.. Oh contra-ire, Watson. You forget the Countess De Wilkinson.
-
W.. French? Don't know her.
H.. She was a master of the foil.
-
W.. Ah. You find Lady Adamson, intriguing. Can't blame you, although you do surprise me. Give me a good old sabre. I could show the women how to defend themselves.
H.. Watson, there's Alfie Trotwood.
-
W.. Together we went down the hallway to see the Piltdown Man exhibit. On the way there, Alfie pointed out a large portrait of the late Lord Adamson. He was the old director of the Museum. He had literally passed the governance of the Museum to his son and daughter. That would be Sir Charles, and, Lady Adamson, who we just met. Holmes examined the painting with great intensity. What was he looking for? Then Holmes asked Alfie to take up the same pose as Lord Adamson in the portrait. W.. . My word!
ALFIE. Wherever he may roam, this old England is his home, On the bonny banks of England, the old man.
H.. Lovely singing Alfie. But that song is Scottish, not English.
-
ALFIE. That's right. But he might of had relatives up there in the highlands.
H.. And how has the Museum been treating you?
-
ALFIE. Sir Charles has been very good to me. And thank you, Mr. Holmes for getting me this job at the Museum. It's like a second home to me. I want to do well here.
H.. I believe you shall. But back to the exhibit. Doctor Watson told me that there's a golf course near the discovery site. Is that true?
-
ALFIE. It is. Blimey! To think that our ancestors were playing the game of golf way back then.
H.. Perhaps the Piltdown Man got himself into the sand trap, and couldn't get out again.
-
ALFIE. What a way to go.
H.. Very odd, considering the left supercilliary ridge points to more human-like cranial capacity. Doctor Watson tells me the Java Man, had a much smaller brain.
-
ALFIE. What was his score?
H.. 900 cubic centimeters.
We each have our own history, Alfie.
-
ALFIE. It's me future I'm thinking of, Mr. Holmes. No more burglary jobs for me.
H.. I'm glad of it, but you did have an uncommon talent for it.
-
ALFIE. It's me aunt's who keeps me out of trouble.
H.. Ah, Mrs. Mansfield and her missing paint tin.
-
ALFIE. Any chance of finding me aunt's money?
H.. I have made some lines of inquiry.
But I hope you don't mind my asking, is Mrs. Mansfield truly part of your blood line?
-
ALFIE. Of course she is. I mean, no she isn't. I was an orphan. But she was like a mother to me. So I called her my aunt.
H.. And how were you placed in her care?
-
ALFIE. Oh, she served as a wet nurse for the-well-to-do. She fished me out of a hospital nursery, God bless her.
H.. Might I ask another question.
Do you have any idea when you were born?
-
ALFIE. Not a clue. I was a sickly child. But I grew stronger. How about you, Mr. Holmes? How are your parents keeping?
H.. They've passed on.
-
ALFIE. Sorry to hear that. Any brothers or sisters?
H.. An older brother, Mycroft.
-
ALFIE. That all?
H.. .. My younger brother died in an accident, when he was seventeen.
-
ALFIE. That's awful. I wish I had a real brother. Ever dream about them, those on the other side?
H.. I did have a vision once. I saw my younger brother.
-
ALFIE. Lucky you.
H.. No, Alfie. It wasn't a happy dream. But what about you. Didn't you feel a sense of guilt during your time as a thief?
-
ALFIE. Of course I did. No. Not really. Shame, yes, because I was needy. But I am trying to correct myself, thanks to you Mr. Holmes. And how about yourself? You must of had a few, difficult cases.
H.. I don't feel shame for my failures. But I must answer my family who have departed this world. I have failed them..
-
ALFIE. Oh no. Our ancestors just want us to do better for ourselves. I want to do well here at the Museum. We only have a short time, down here. Look at him.
H.. Just what Doctor Watson was saying. Every species that has ever lived, or will ever live, will become, extinct .
-
W.. Alfie must have struck a nerve in my friend. I knew that Holmes had suffered the tragic loss of his younger brother, but he never told me how it happened. Always secretive. So many demons all bottled up inside my friend, never to see the light of day.Scene 3W.. Later that week, Holmes paid Alfie's aunt a visit in her rundown Whitechapel shop. He brought back something unusual. Human and animal skulls. I was getting sick of the smell of fumes coming from his laboratory. And I distinctly smelled, paint. What was Holmes up to? There were the sounds of the breaking of bones. And the scraping of a file. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch.. Has he gone mad? I decided to follow my own path of investigation. Sir Charles was about to give his first public lecture on the Piltdown Man. Why don't I attend. The discovery was receiving criticism from the Americans. The Germans. The French. The Europeans had made some amazing discoveries of their own. Neanderthals, they called them. You can just imagine the brutes from France. Rude. Impolite.
H.. Watson, hurry up. You'll be late for the lecture. I'll see you later.
-
W.. Sir Charles wiped a trickle of blood coming down his nostril. But where were the specimens? Those two ruffians from the League had made off with them. The lecture hall was evacuated.. A few minutes later, I caught sight of a burly police sergeant questioning, Sir Charles. Now, what's all this about, eh? Wait a minute. How am I going to report this, situation? I'll file a missing persons report. Hah! Where was my friend, Sherlock Holmes, when you needed him? Perhaps it was Museum's turn to make the trip to, 221b Baker Street.
H.. Lady Adamson, pray draw up to the fire.
-
LADY A.. Mr. Holmes, my poor brother, Charles..
H.. I quite understand.
-
LADY A.. I hope I can rely upon you for the investigation. Discreet and professional.
H.. I believe I was of some assistance to your late father, Lord Adamson. His passing must have come as a great shock to the family.
-
LADY A.. My father was a great man. A loss to the nation.
H.. It was rather sudden for a man in his prime.
-
LADY A.. A branch of our family has inherited an unusual condition. A defect of the heart.
W.. Not uncommon in my medical experience, Lady Adamson. Carried from generation to generation.
H.. Quite. What may I do for you today?
-
LADY A.. Mr. Holmes, I should think that obvious. Find the specimens and bring those Creationist thieves to justice.
H.. At present I am involved in a pretty little problem.
-
LADY A.. The British Museum commands your service.
H.. May I inquire what progress Scotland Yard has made thus far?
-
LADY A.. Inspector Lestrade has detained a few of the, slower moving Creationists. I believe my brother showed you this ridiculous anonymous letter, before, the theft occurred.
H.. I confess I did not anticipate this precise result. Might I retain it for future reference?
-
LADY A.. By all means. Inspector Lestrade has already formed his opinion.
H.. And Lestrade's theory?
-
LADY A.. The facts show the letter was sent by the League of Creationists. They intend to destroy the specimens.
W.. By God, we've got to stop them, Holmes. Before it's too late.
LADY A.. The League mistakenly believes the Piltdown Man is an aberration of nature. The bones are merely those of a diseased ape.
W.. Holmes, drop that other case. The specimens are irreplaceable.
H.. I will take the case on one condition. My fees must be paid regardless of the outcome.
-
LADY A.. I accept the condition .
H.. It will be an honor to serve the British Museum.
-
LADY A.. Excellent. Oh, by the way, I did mean what I said about the Star of Delhi. It would be a great pleasure for me to sit beside you while you hold the gem in your own hands. Feel the power of the diamond. Shall we say tomorrow evening at eight o'clock at the Museum?
H.. I look forward to the occasion.
-
LADY A.. Until then.. Good day, Doctor Watson.
W.. Lady Adamson, might I ask if I...
LADY A.. Oh no need to sing me another song this time, Doctor Watson. Goodbye.
W.. How extraordinary... The wrath of God will be upon the head of he who denies the miracle of creation. No signature. Each word has been cut out of a newspaper and pasted down. The Wrath of God. That's what those scoundrels were shouting. It's the League who's responsible.
H.. The Tuesday Times, Watson. I have saved it for this occasion. Permit me to give you an extract.
No one denies that the discovery of protons and electrons is one of the major advances of the age. The creation of electrical power is transforming the planet, and will lead to a Godlike mastery over the wrath of the natural world. As England rushes headlong into a future which is becoming dependent upon the miracles of science, there will be those who will see their way of life diminish and disappear.
-
W.. I'll always prefer gas light.
H.. All the seventeen words pasted down, are also found in this newspaper article.
-
W.. The spacing is quite careless.
H.. The evidence suggests that the author started at the bottom and worked to the top.
-
W.. What evidence?
H.. The pattern of smudging.
-
W.. You mean they work backwards?
H.. Like the author of a mystery.
-
W.. That's probably how Inspector Lestrade works.
H.. When something goes backwards, Watson, what happens?
-
W.. If I were walking backwards, how would I know when I reached the end? I could fall off a cliff that way.
H.. Falling off a cliff doesn't necessarily mean the end.
-
W.. It doesn't?
H.. No. One must first hit bottom.
-
W.. Are you feeling alright, Holmes?
H.. Working in reverse order is much like forcing the evidence to fit a prevailing theory. Like building the second floor, before making the first floor beneath it.. and the result?
-
W.. Collapse.
H.. Exactly. Seventeen words... Seventeen words... Does that number not seem familiar to you?
-
W.. No.
H.. Oh come, come, Watson. How many times have you descended Mrs. Hudson's stairway over there? And have you never counted the steps?
-
W.. No.
H.. There are seventeen of them!
-
W.. That's odd.
H.. It has a mathematical precision that is very rare in the criminal element.
Watson, I perceive that you have attempted to take up the saxophone.
-
W.. Pardon, me?
H.. I observe two red marks, where the reed presses against your lips.
-
W.. I've done no such thing.
H.. Don't deny it. The redness of your left thumb, confirms it.
The instrument is made in France, the inventor is Belgian. And if you play it in these rooms, the wild curses from Mrs. Hudson's lips will be, Scottish!
-
W.. I've already played for her. She thought I sounded jolly good!
H.. You hope that I would join you in a duet.
-
W.. I want you to give up that vice of yours.
H.. Are you mad? Violin and saxophone? That would be the end our association!
-
W.. I may not have your powers of observation, but I'm not blind either. You've been abusing yourself with narcotics! Admit it, for God's sake!
H.. I'm sorry, Watson. But a swirling brew of monstrosities ferments beneath the surface of London life, and I can do nothing. I have no desire to become the mere grease that oils the slimy underbelly of London. I need fuel, for my racing brain!
-
W.. For heavens sake, take care.
H.. As a doctor, would you not agree that I am in full command of my mental faculties?
-
W.. Your creator endowed you with one of the most logical minds in London
H.. Exceeded only by my older brother, Mycroft. I want you to promise me something. Promise me on your mother's grave, that if I appear to lose my reason, you won't desert me.
-
W.. What are you saying?
H.. Promise me that if I do not recover, you will follow the instructions which I will lay down. Promise me.
-
W.. What are you considering? I make no such agreement.
H.. As a dear friend, you must.
-
W.. You need help.
H.. You have never failed me.
-
W.. Then you must make me a promise.
H.. Let me consider it.
-
W.. I know a man who can help you give up your addiction...
H.. I know that man.. I locked up my cocaine in a strong box. It requires two keys to open it.
-
W.. And you'll seek no other source?
H.. Each of us will have a key. You and I Watson. You and I.
Where would I be without you, old chap.
-
W.. Let God punish me if I do wrong.
H.. Let no one know of this, not even my older brother, Mycroft.
-
WIGGINS. Is this all? The gent who gave me that package gave me a lot more.
W.. To Mr. Sherlock Holmes, a great connoisseur of the Last Polyphonic Quartets of Lassus. From my heart, to yours. A gift of rare manuscripts of music. Let's have a look...
H.. Don't open that case, Watson!!
Orlando Lassus never composed quartets. He composed motets.
-
W.. Great Scott!
H.. From my heart, to yours. Swiss made. Take it away!
-
W.. What in heaven's name is going on?
H.. Pay no attention to that petty entertainment.
Listen closely. Let us pretend that this lemon is the Star of Delhi, and this butter dish is the glass case surrounding the diamond. Just how would you go about stealing it?
-
W.. I would create a diversion, smash the glass case, seize the diamond and make a run for it.
H.. And a second possibility?
-
W.. I could wait till all is quiet, then seize the diamond and hide it. Scoop it up later, and then make a run for it.
H.. Another option?
-
W.. .I don't suppose one could move the case an inch, each day, towards the exit door..
H.. Come on, old fellow.
-
W.. What other way can there be?
H.. Neither the diamond nor the glass case need be touched by human hands.
-
W.. Then by whose hands?
H.. Think, Watson, think!
-
W.. The only other way would be to move the entire Museum.
H.. You've hit on it old fellow!!
-
W.. I have?
H.. Don't you see? The diamond is inside the case, the case is inside the Museum. It follows then that one could steal the diamond, by stealing, the Museum.
-
W.. That's madness. The British Museum is beyond the power of any single mind to possess it.
H.. There is a man in London who would attempt it.
A mathematician.
-
W.. The author of that book?
H.. Professor James Moriarty, of ex - mathematical celebrity.
-
W.. Moriarty?
H.. I defeated his gang in Paris. He sits in his web, back in London.
-
W.. He must have been the one who invaded our rooms. He's warning you to clear off.
H.. I refuse.
-
W.. This is personal, isn't it Holmes?
H.. There will be a final accounting.
-
W.. There’s bad blood between the two of you. He’s hurt you.
H.. Fortunately I have a very dependable ally on my side.
-
W.. Your older brother, Mycroft.
H.. Much too sedentary. This ones' a medical man.
-
W.. Do I know him?
H.. About your height. Could fit into your clothes.
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W.. ..Who me?
H.. Afraid so, old chap.
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W.. But Moriarty must have a great many accomplices.
H.. One of them is already planted in the Museum.
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W.. Now we're getting somewhere!
H.. There is more. Years ago I observed Lady Adamson's father in a rowing match. He won it.
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W.. Lord Adamson?
H.. Exactly.
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W.. But Lady Adamson said her father suffered from a heart condition.
H.. None had a stouter heart than the Lord. There was something unnatural about his death.
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W.. But, suddenly a commotion was heard below! Someone was shouting on the street. A moment later, a banging on our door. It was Wiggins again, from the Baker Street Irregulars.
WIGGINS. Mr. Holmes! A man was ready to heave a brick through your window up here. There he goes!
H.. I see him. The short man with the long arm.
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WIGGINS. He got away from me, he did. But I've some terrible news. Alfie Trotwood sent me here! It's Alfie's aunt! Mrs. Mansfield! The police!..
H.. Calm down, Wiggins. Who is handling the investigation?
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WIGGINS. Inspector Lestrade.
H.. I've made a considerable error in this affair. We may have need of your assistance, Wiggins.
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WIGGINS. No, Mr. Holmes. I've got a weak stomach, when it comes to blood. I might be sick.
H.. All the more reason to bring a doctor along. We may learn something yet.
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Later that week, Holmes met with Lady Adamson for a private viewing of the Star of Delhi. The rendezvous took place at a secluded room in the British Museum. .. I was not invited.
H.. I believe the British Museum repainted this room last December.
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LADY A.. How did you divine that, Mr. Holmes?
H.. I observe the absence of the smell of fresh paint, yet the furniture has been moved. I've made a study of the temporal relationships between the impressions made by furniture upon carpeting, the accumulations of dust, and the formation of..spider webs.
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LADY A.. Remarkable. But I thought you had come to observe the Star of Delhi at your leisure.
H.. A woman's best friend, so the De Beers would have us believe.
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LADY A.. The De Beers are wrong. An English gentleman is a woman's best friend. May I call you, Sherlock?
H.. Indeed you may. But, I was hoping I might have a word with your brother, Sir Charles.
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LADY A.. My brother is confined to his sick bed. But let's not talk about your investigation. Evolution is a man's affair. I believe that God is responsible for the grand design of life. The human form is too perfectly made to be a total accident, wouldn't you agree?
H.. Accidents have the face of God, but are usually the handiwork of men. I have built a career out of making inroads into the domain of the accidental.
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LADY A.. Might one ask whether you're a bachelor from lack of opportunity, or from lack of motive?
H.. It's not a crime to be a bachelor.
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LADY A.. But you must find some women attractive.
H.. I find your perfume attractive. White Jasmine, is it not?
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LADY A.. Extraordinary. But I thought your specialty was tobacco ash. I’ve read that you can distinguish between 140 different varieties.
H.. 141, to be precise.
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LADY A.. Ah. Let me show you the Star of Delhi, Sherlock. It's history rivals only that of the Ko-Hi-Noor. Go ahead, pick it up.
H.. It took the blood and sweat of thirty thousand miners, to find it.
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LADY A.. The Queen should like it as a gift.
H.. I should like to give you a gift, Lady Adamson. Perhaps, something for your birthday. Might I ask the date?
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LADY A.. How delightful. The seventeenth of May.
H.. Ah, splendid.
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LADY A.. But let's examine the Queen's object of affection. Have you heard about, the third eye? It is a trick of reflection and the imagination. The mirror becomes the lake. Now the rain falls. Hold the diamond over the lake. You must get closer, Sherlock. Let yourself be drawn into it. Two diamonds appear in the lake. And now a third diamond appears. It is the diamond that was mounted in the forehead of an idol which resided in a sacred temple. When the diamond was stolen, the idol was blinded… I admire a strong, sensitive man. But you've been missing one of life's greatest pleasures.
H.. How clumsy of me.
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LADY A.. Let me help you with that.
H.. The diamond has affected me.
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LADY A.. Free yourself from the chains of reason.
H.. Other affairs await my attention.. I'll see my way out.. I find it too hot in this room.
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LADY A.. Your hands are cold. Don't you have any emotions?
H.. The coldness of reason is all I need.
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LADY A.. You're only half a man. The Museum has changed its mind. Your involvement in this case has become superfluous.
H.. Is this the opinion of, Sir Charles?
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LADY A.. I am now in command.
H.. And the Museum?
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LADY A.. The Museum is not in the habit of allowing amateurs to demonstrate their incompetence. And further more. Do not meddle with workers in my employ.
H.. I take it you mean, Alfie Trotwood.
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LADY A.. You took him from the gutter, and put him in the Museum to spy against us.
H.. That is not the opinion of your brother, Sir Charles.
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LADY A.. He did not realize that you gave us a thief.
H.. I'll vouch for Alfie.
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LADY A.. Enough. You may descend the stairway, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Ask my secretary for payment of your fee on your way out.
H.. That won't be necessary.
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LADY A.. Use the money to buy yourself a new suit of clothes. Your taste is quite behind the fashion.
H.. Remarkable how a competent lie can be fashioned into evidence. This has been most instructive, Lady Adamson.
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LADY A.. Doctor Watson, take my arm. I feel faint.
W.. It’s the staleness of misery about this place, Lady Adamson. …Holmes, how are you, old chap?
H.. Listen to me, while I still have my wits about me.
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W.. We'll get you into the infirmary.
H.. You must hear the truth.
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W.. Don't worry about the diamond.
H.. The truth about my younger brother.
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W.. Go on, Holmes.
H.. Watson, the reckless days of my youth. It happened when I was a student, during the summer recess. My younger brother and I set about experimenting with narcotics. I was the better chemist, he the better violinist. But he was desperate for inspiration. I wondered if I could find a substance which would counteract the narcotic's power to addict. I obtained a new supply of cocaine from a professor at the university. I hid the drug in my room. An hour later I saw my brother flash by the window. He was running up the street towards St Paul's. I saw an empty syringe on the floor. I ran after him. My feet slipped on the pavement, from the rain. He smashed a window and gained entry to the church. He was headed for the bell tower. I leaped up the staircase. The roof was under repair and there was a small open space. He was balanced on the very apex of the vault. I cried out to him. He made a turn to come round, lost his footing. His arms went up, I thrust out my hand.. The tragedy was hushed up. The conveyor of the drug, blamed. In disgrace he was dismissed from his posting at the university. Watson. I introduced narcotics to my younger brother. A thousand times, I've gone over and over it. My mind always returning to the source. The conveyor. A professor of mathematics. Professor Moriarty!
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W.. Good God, Holmes.
H.. He seeks my destruction, as I seek his. Moriarty has poisoned me.
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W.. Poison?
H.. I broke into my strong box. Poison was mixed into my cocaine.
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W.. But that's impossible.
H.. I injected myself. I can feel it in my veins.
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W.. But a chemist weakened the concentration
H.. Moriarty.
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W.. Good God. We got my friend into the infirmary. When he became conscious again he gave me my instructions. Now was the time to use everything I had learned from the man. And put things right!
H.. You believe, Sir, that you are the epitome of criminal evolution, but I warn you, Sir, your evolutionary path is coming to an end. My nets are closing round you. Your slimy skin will not allow you to slip through my fingers again. I will haul you out of the sea like a fish and dangle you by the gills.
H.. Please take care as you tread this passageway. The prison floor is damp and is somewhat slippery. I have no wish for you to break your neck quite yet. That will be accomplished for you by the hangman upon your forthcoming trial, conviction, and execution!
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W.. Give evidence against Moriarty.
LADY A.. Never!
W.. Drop the weapon. I'm warning you.
H.. Watson!
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W.. Holmes!
LADY A.. What devilry is this?
H.. Watson, that sword has a poison tip.
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LADY A.. Sherlock Holmes!
H.. I would gladly give my life if I could be certain of your father's destruction.
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LADY A.. Stop there, Mr. Holmes if you want your friend alive. Drop the gun, Doctor Watson.
H.. Do as she says, Watson.
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LADY A.. Now, Mr Holmes, pull open one of the drawers of the morgue, and get inside.
H.. My family did a grave injustice to your father. The blame is all mine. But surely Lord Adamson didn't deserve his fate.
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LADY A.. He died of heart failure.
H.. It was murder.
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LADY A.. You're lying.
H.. Moriarty had him murdered. And many others.
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LADY A.. Mr. Holmes. I don't have to kill you. You're already dead!
H.. Drop it, Lady Adamson! Drop it!
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W.. What should I do?
H.. Don't shoot anyone!
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LADY A.. Let go! Let go!
W.. Professor Moriarty will seek revenge. Let's take him on, together, Holmes. You and I.
H.. Not this time, Watson. I shall meet that man alone, for the final discussion of those questions, which lie between us.
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W.. Confound it, why did you not confide in me? You told Inspector Lestrade everything. And he's a fool.
H.. The law had to be advised. But you old chap, you're not a convincing liar.
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W.. And glad of it.
H.. But, it was very brave of you to confront Lady Adamson.
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W.. She saw right through my disguise.
H.. I suspected Moriarty would contaminate my cocaine. So, I disguised myself. I observed the friendly old chemist, bumping into you. Moriarty. But he was not able to conceal those serpentine eyes of his. From such a snake, the prescription must have been poison.
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W.. You both gave a convincing performance, by Jove.
H.. To be myself, I must play the part of another. But the corpse, gave the best performance of all.
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W.. Now how was it that you recovered the Piltdown specimens from the Creationists?
H.. That wasn't difficult. The Creationists never stole them.
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W.. But I saw the theft with my own eyes.
H.. I created a set of duplicates for Sir Charles to display at the lecture.
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W.. Duplicates?
H.. I do apologize for throwing you out of our rooms like that. But, there was no need for both of us to be exposed to the toxic fumes of my experiments.
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W.. So that's why I heard you breaking up bones in your laboratory. You were investigating how to simulate the aging of bones.
H.. Iron staining and chromic acid. And thus I manufactured duplicate specimens.
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W.. But how did you know when the thieves would strike?
H.. I didn't know. But that anonymous letter got me thinking. I knew it wasn't from the Creationists.
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W.. It wasn't?
H.. No. A woman's eyelash was caught under one of the pasted words. And, I detected the scent of perfume. White Jasmine.
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W.. That's the perfume Lady Adamson was wearing.
H.. Excellent, Watson.
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W.. But what does it mean? Why did they take the specimens during the lecture?
H.. Who did you blame?
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W.. The Creationists, of course.
H.. That was the scheme. To blame the Creationists for the theft. But I recognized one of the blackguards who was pelting Sir Charles with bananas.
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W.. Wait. I didn't see you at the lecture.
H.. I was the priest who was yelling for order. I had a run in with one of those scoundrels.
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W.. You mean the thief wasn't a Creationist?
H.. No. There's no religion in him, save the devil. He was one of Moriarty's men. Three years ago, a friend of his, got the better of me at Charring Cross and cracked my canine tooth. But I have since studied Baritsu. He broke his nose on my fist as I gave him a good hard right in the back alley.
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W.. Well deserved.
H.. He smokes an exotic variety of cigar. I found the very same cigar ash in Mrs Mansfields shop.
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W.. So that would connect Moriarty's gang to the murder of Alfie's aunt. Good thing the police have released the Creationists for lack of evidence.
H.. Yes, one always needs, evidence. When I examined the dentition of the Piltdown jaw under a microscope, I discovered that the teeth had been ground down, by a steel file.
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W.. So the geologist filed down modern ape teeth to disguise them.
H.. Precisely. The fragments had to vanish to avoid any examination by a real expert.
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W.. Corpus delecti.
H.. Moriarty's agents attempted to destroy every last trace of the fraud by ransacking the White Chapel shop.
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W.. So that why we found the shop turned upside down.
H.. But they did not succeed. Alfie helped me find the sales records. Therein, I found the answer. George Skullion: Purchase - Flying Rat, human skulls, orangutan jaw, and other bones, two pounds, six.
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W.. I suppose you never found the missing paint tin and the money.
H.. I admit I failed, Watson. But Alfie brought me something much more valuable.
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W.. What was that?
H.. Come, come, Watson. Do you not recall Alfie bringing us the lid of the paint tin? Good thing too, for I observed the color of the Piltdown Man specimens exactly matched the color of the paint on the lid. The fraud was achieved with good old fashioned, paint. Instant antiquity.
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W.. Van Dyke Brown Paint. But one thing still puzzles me, Holmes…Who is he?
H.. .The man, or the orangutan?
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W.. The man. He must be somebody.
H.. Observe. There is no clothing with labels, no watch with inscriptions, no tobacco ash, nor any other tangible clue to his identity. Nothing at all. Except the fact that the Piltdown Man is really a Lady.
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W.. How do you know that?
H.. I verified the sex of the bones, by examining them at the Surgeons Skeletal Library.
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W.. Amazing. Have you told anyone else about the fraud?
H.. It is not for me to supply the deficiencies of the English scientific community.
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W.. And what about that diamond?
H.. Watson, you know my methods. Apply them.
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W.. Let me guess. You promised Inspector Lestrade the solution to an unsolved crime, if he released you from prison.
H.. Very near the mark.
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W.. You know, Holmes, I suspected the fraud all along. That golf course was too close to the gravel pit. Major discovery in the morning, golf game in the afternoon. Too easy by half.
H.. I congratulate you, old chap.
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W.. Let me explain. Sir Charles was a lazy sod. He much preferred a round of golf to any scientific endeavor.
H.. No, it was the geologist who played golf.
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W.. What? George Skullion? And how can you possibly explain that?
H.. His score was recorded in the golf club's records. I played the same course myself and observed the traces of sand traps dreadfully hacked away at by a rank amateur.
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W.. And how did he shoot?
H.. Abysmal. The geologist couldn't get out of the sand traps. I shot one under par.
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W.. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Good Lord! It couldn't be..?
WIGGINS. Hello, Doctor Watson.W.. Oh, its just you, Wiggins.
WIGGINS. Mr. Holmes sent for me.
W.. What have you got there?
WIGGINS. I got a nice tip from the old gent who gave it to me.
W.. From Mr. B. Ombs-away. Ombs-away. Sounds just like, BombsAway..Great Scott!..
H.. Watson!! .. Mrs. Hudson!! .. I've trained Mrs. Hudson to deal with these little predicaments. Wiggins, wait outside for Doctor Watson. Off with you now..
Wiggins will take you to Alfie. You must both remain in hiding in a safe-house, until I put Moriarty behind bars. Make your way to the docklands to this address. Seek a woman who goes by the name of Lime-house Annie. In three days time, escort Alfie to Sir Charles at the Museum.
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W.. Holmes, there's something you're not telling me.
H.. You have learned something of my method. Excellent. You must not tell another living soul.
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W.. As silent as the grave.
H.. Alfie Trotwood is the true son of the late Lord Adamson.
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W.. .Alfie? That would make him the brother of Sir Charles. Of course. That explains the resemblance between Alfie and the Lord in the portrait hanging in the Museum. Alfie was that sickly child who was abandoned in the hospital.
H.. Not completely abandoned. The wet nurse at the hospital took pity on the boy. Yes, she was Alfie's aunt, Mrs. Mansfield. She kept Alfie's identity a secret all these years, thus protecting him from Moriarty.
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W.. I'll see that Alfie's kept safe, Holmes. But how on earth did you deduce all this?
H.. A close examination of city birth records, gave me an idea. I asked Mrs. Mansfield, a simple question. What happened on May 17th, the night Alfie was born? She broke down. The more I filled her glass with fine aged whiskey, the more the truth spilled out. Watson, I was not able to prevent her death. But Lady Adamson..
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W.. It was self defense. The Museum owes you a reward for your service.
H.. Your friendship has been my reward, my dear Watson…
Come in, Professor.
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