The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984–1985): Season 1, Episode 5 - The Crooked Man - full transcript

Mrs. Barclay, your tea.

How could you do such a thing?

Your tea, madam.

I hate you, I hate you,
I hate you, I hate you.

Your tea, madam.

You betrayed him.

Mrs. Penning

What's happened, what is it, child?

It's madam and the Colonel, something awful
is going on and I can't open the door.

Here, let me try.

Stop him, both of you



Mrs. Barclay.
Mrs. Barclay, open the door.

Mrs. Barclay, open the door.

The door is locked on the inside as well,
and there's no key.

I'm going out for a doctor,
and the police.

There's quite a few of them
when I sailed home wounded.

Had a good record out in India,
did wonders during the Mutiny.

I'm sure you won't regret
taking the case.

Ah, sentry.

Dr. John Watson,
formerly medical officer

attached to the Royal Berkshires.
Now in civilian practice.

Murphy, second in command, temporarily
in charge of the Royal Mallows,

following the, tragedy
of our Colonel's death.

And this will be Mr. Holmes?

Please.



It's good of you to come so swiftly.

Not at all.

I have explained to Holmes
how concerned

you must be about the
possibility of a scandal.

Thank you.

The honor of the regiment is in my care.

And yet, the newspapers report suggest
that a scandal is inevitable.

Surely not. I've done my utmost to
make sure that reporters

were kept as far away as possible.

Exactly, and that is what
has made them suspicious.

They scent a mystery, that much is clear

from the little they have
been able to say.

Surely, it would be wrong to repeat,

to draw attention to...

Quite.

You see how much we need
your help, Mr. Holmes.

What do you say, Holmes?

What can I say?

Major Murphy, you have
told me nothing.

I have come down here after persuasion
from my friend, to Aldershot,

who has more interest in
military matters than I.

Now that I am here,
please tell me the facts.

The commanding officer
of this regiment,

Colonel James Barclay,
was found dead in his villa

at about 10 o'clock
the night before last.

The body was found by Private Bates,
his batman, lying in the morning room.

There was a ragged cut, two-inches
long, on the back of his head,

which had evidently been caused by a
violent blow from a blunt instrument.

And upon the floor by the body was a
singular hand-carved wooden club.

Also, stretched out on the sofa

lying in a dead faint, was Nancy Bar -
Mrs. Barclay.

Please continue, Major Murphy.

The servants had been alerted to the
tragedy by the sounds of a quarrel

between the Colonel and Mrs. Barclay.

They tried to enter the morning room
but found it locked.

Bates had to go around by the garden
and get in through the French windows.

And now you suspect Mrs. Barclay?

Yes. But she is quite incapable
of such a dreadful act.

I have been the late Colonel's second
in command for a number of years.

I've come to know Nancy Barclay well.

Of course.

Tell me about Colonel Barclay. Was he highly
regarded by the men under his command?

Considering his background,
remarkably so.

His background, why,
was he ever disgraced?

No,

but it's not generally known outside
that Jim Barclay began his career

as a private soldier in the Mallows.

Did he, indeed?

From private soldier to commanding
officer in the same regiment,

that's a rare achievement.

It was his gallantry in the Indian Mutiny
that got him his commission,

and then quite rapid promotion
over the years,

more rapid than mine, for instance.

Impressive.

And I suppose the unfortunate
Mrs. Barclay is in custody?

No, not exactly, no.

She's in hospital, being looked after,

with a police constable standing by.

Nancy Barclay is a
handsome woman now,

but you should have seen her
as a young girl in India, 30 years ago.

She was a daughter of the regiment.

Her father was the Regimental
Sergeant Major, RSM Devoy, and

therefore quite a formidable
father-in-law for any soldier.

I remember that all
the men in my company

thought her quite the
prettiest girl in the garrison.

As a junior officer I had
little to do with her,

but I was aware that
she was a most charming,

most vivacious and spirited girl.

It was quite understandable

that Barclay was not the only man
in the regiment who sought her hand.

But, in the end, he was
the one she chose

They were married at Bhurtee,

not far from Cornpor a few months after
the besieged garrison

there was relieved by General Neill's
column in the summer of 1858,

Shortly after the marriage,

Sergeant Barclay got his
commission, as expected.

It must have been difficult
for the Barclays at first,

NCO, promoted from the ranks,

married to a regimental
Sergeant Major's daughter?

Yes, I believe there was
some little social friction.

But, Nancy carried it off
with dignity and charm,

and they gained acceptance in no time.

Barclay's career flourished,

and the regiment returned
from India some five years ago.

Barclay was then appointed
to commanding officer.

And the marriage continued
to be a happy one?

It appeared to be so.

Appeared?

Most people believe the marriage
to have been a uniformly happy one.

And what do you believe,
Major Murphy?

My position as second in command

often took me to the Barclay's house.

I saw a different side to the marriage,

The truth is more important
than loyalty to your late commander.

One night I had been dining
at the Barclays.

It wasn't until I reached
the end of the drive

that I realized I'd left my cigar case
in the dining room.

I went back, the front door
was still open.

Jane, the maid, was in the hall.

I'm glad you're still here,
I left my cigar case on the table.

I think the Colonel and Mrs. Barclay
have gone to bed, sir.

Oh, for goodness sake, James.

Confess then, who is it, who?

Let go of me, you're hurting me.

Tell me you love me then,

me and nobody else.
Do you hear, do you hear me?

Oh, would I have married you
if I didn't?

I don't know, sometimes I wonder.

And this expression of jealousy occurred
within seconds of you Major Murphy,

leaving the Barclays' house.

Tell me about the Colonel,

was he a violent man in any way?

On occasion.

He could be most vindictive
towards young subalterns.

But he'd clawed his way to the top.

You need to be ruthless to do that.

Surely he didn't still feel
out of place as an officer?

No, I don't think so.

But he was subject to
a peculiar form of depression.

The Queen.

The Queen.

Sometimes when we were
discussing old campaigns,

the premier, the Mutiny, Afghan War,

the smile would often be
struck from his mouth

as if by some invisible hand.

Yes, long service in India
can have that effect.

I saw that when I was in the Berkshires.

You mentioned a carved wooden club
found by the body,

one of the Colonel's Indian souvenirs?

I believe the servants deny
ever having seen this club before.

Certainly I've never seen it on
any of my visits. It was quite long

And the police, I suppose,
have retained it for examination?

Yes. They believe it to be
the murder weapon.

Do they, indeed?

I think we should begin
by visiting the Barclays' house,

unless, of course, it is possible
to interview Mrs. Barclay?

I'm afraid she's still unconscious.

I thought as much.

David, David.

Holmes, suppose Mrs. Barclay

had a lover and the Colonel
had found out?

Major Murphy seems to have
been rather close to her.

You know, mild adultery
has always been

commonplace among officers and
their wives serving in hot climates.

Thank you, Watson,
for educating me in military morality.

If there had been anything between
Major Murphy and Mrs. Barclay,

would he have related the incident
of his forgotten cigar case?

It was about half past seven, sir,
and I was waiting a table.

Once a month, Mrs. Barclay spent the
evening doing charity work in Aldershot.

Where are you off to in such a hurry?

Well, the distribution of old
clothing starts at 8 o'clock,

and I promised Ann Morrison.
I'd be at the mission hall on time.

Well, if you want to catch
some filthy disease

with a lot of flea ridden down and outs,
I suppose that's your affair.

I believe in putting back into life
as much as one gets out of it.

We've been fortunate with our lot,

others haven't been so lucky.

Don't be late back.

Of course not.

Mrs. Barclay must have returned
about quarter past nine, sir.

I was in the kitchen helping
the cook with the dishes.

There was thunder in the distance
and I was just saying to Mrs. Penning

that there was a storm brewing
when the morning room bell rang,

I came up here to find that
Mrs. Barclay had returned.

She was walking up and down
this room, sir,

very pale, upset.

She looked awful, sir.

You rang, madam?

Yes, Jane, bring me some tea, will you?

Of course, madam.

Jane, is that you?

Yes, sir.

Did I hear Mrs. Barclay come in?

Yes, sir, she's in the morning room.

The morning room?

Yes, sir. I'm just about to
take her a pot of tea.

Tea? What does she want tea for
at this hour?

And that, presumably, was the last time
that anyone saw Colonel Barclay alive?

Yes, sir.

Can you think of any reason

why your mistress came
into this morning room

at that time of night,
when the fire was unlit?

No, sir.

Did she often make a point
of purposely avoiding the Colonel?

Had you ever heard
them arguing before?

Not to my knowledge, sir.

When you returned from the kitchen
with Mrs. Barclay's tea,

you found the door locked,

and you heard voices raised.
Now, what exactly did you hear?

They were arguing, sir.

Mrs. Barclay called the Colonel
a coward.

She said you have ruined
my life all these years.

Mrs. Barclay shouted the name "David,"

she said it twice.

David?

Could you swear to that?

I was perfectly clear, sir.

But the Colonel's name was James.

Have you ever heard, Mrs. Barclay
refer to anyone called David?

No, sir, I don't think she or the Colonel
knew anyone by the name of David.

And Major Murphy's Christian
name is Patrick.

Had they had any visitors recently
by the name of David?

I don't think so, sir.

The club that was found
by Colonel Barclay's body.

Had you seen it before?

No, sir. The Colonel had several trophies
from India, but nothing like that club.

Are you sure of that, Miss Stewart?

Yes, sir. I don't know
where it came from.

Thank you, that is all.

Oh, no, there is just one last thing.

Major Murphy once left his cigar case here.
Did you manage to find it?

Yes, sir.

The Colonel was lying down here, sir.

With his head by the fender?

Yes, sir.

You can see the mark of the blood still.

But the most frightening thing
of all, sir, was his face.

His face?

When I rolled him over,
I almost fainted away to look upon it.

It was all contorted, screwed up

with the most horrible look
of fear and terror.

As if he'd foreseen his own death?

Quite possible, sir.

Thank you, Bates.

What apparition, what monster was it

that could have frightened
the Colonel so.

Not Nancy Barclay, for sure.

This door was locked shut, sir,
and what's more, the key was missing.

Missing?

Yes, in the end we had to send
for a locksmith to open it,

You have made a thorough
search for the key?

We searched high and low.

Mrs. Barclay hadn't got it. and
it wasn't in the Colonel's pocket, sir.

Thank you, Mrs. Penning.

Watson, if the key was not in the door,

and neither Mrs. Barclay nor
the Colonel had it, then-

Then there must have been
a third person.

Exactly.

Who either entered or left

through those windows.

These are Bates' footprints.

But these, are the footprints of
someone else.

Someone has recently
crossed this lawn,

the marks are just visible.

He entered and left through
those windows, Watson,

we're on the right search.

Watson, look at this.

What is it?

Our entrant had a somewhat
unusual companion.

It's a dog, isn't it, somebody's dog?

Whoever heard of a dog
running up a curtain.

What about a cat then?

These claw marks are not
those of a cat, nor of a monkey,

nor of any creature
that we are familiar with.

I would think from hind foot to forefoot

at least 15 inches. Add to that
the length of neck and head,

you have a creature
no less than two feet,

more if there's a tail.
The length of its stride is odd,

it indicates a creature
with a long back and short legs.

Something like a stoat or a weasel?

We also know that it is carnivorous.

How can you tell that?

Well you see what made it
run up the curtain.

The canary.

Exactly.

Then what was this beast?

No, I can't, I cannot betray a friend,
please don't ask me to.

Miss Morrison,

when Mrs. Barclay left her house
to come here two nights ago,

she was happy and content.

When she returned two hours later,
she was a changed woman.

Now the police suspect her of murder.

You owe it to your friend to
clear her name.

You must tell me what happened last night
that so changed her.

Very well, I shall break my
promise of silence

if what I can say can really help her.

So there was something.

It was most bizarre,

I should explain that we come across
all sorts of conditions of men here.

Yet, the other night, I saw the most
extraordinary creature I have ever seen.

Not only had he a crooked back,
but he was lame...

and walked with his knees bent.

His face was darkly tanned,

crinkled and puckered
like a withered apple.

I thought to myself that truly
there are some of us on this earth

who are burdened with more than
their fair share of misfortune.

This vision was made more unusual
by the oriental garb the man was wearing.

I pointed this person out to Nancy
as someone especially deserving of help.

Nancy had indeed been in
good spirits that evening,

and I saw her go towards the man
and ask him if he needed assistance.

It was now that a change
came over Nancy.

She had begun a conversation with
the man when suddenly

all the colour drained from her face.

She looked as though
she had seen a ghost.

The man, too, seemed to be strangely
affected by the sight of her.

And I saw him gesticulating wildly.

Well, Nancy and the man went
to a quiet corner of the hall

and they talked together
or a few moments or so

before I heard an angry shout
from the man

and saw him storm out,
waving his fists in the air.

Nancy, what is it?

Are you all right?

Who was that poor creature?

It's an old acquaintance of mine
fallen on hard times.

Promise me, Annie, you won't say anything
about this to anyone, promise me.

Of course, I promise, if you so wish.

And the identity of this man?

I thought you might ask me that.

Well, after this terrible happening,
Nancy left.

I naturally made a few inquiries
among some of the regulars

such an unusual looking creature
has of course attracted attention.

It appears he is an old soldier
recently back from India,

and no one knows anything else
about his background

except that he makes a living
by entertaining the troops,

conjuring tricks, that kind of thing.

And did you tell the police about him?

Of course not,

a promise is a promise.

Yes, of course.

Thank you, Miss Morrison.

That is our intruder's
four-footed companion.

It's a mongoose.

I think we've found our man.

Mr. Henry Wood, I believe,
late of India. May I have a word?

What about?

A little matter of Colonel
James Barclay's death.

She's innocent, you can take
my word for it.

Then you are guilty.

No, I am not guilty.

Then who struck the Colonel down?

It was a just Providence that killed him,
his own guilty conscience.

I think you'd better explain.

My God, if I had smashed his head in
as it was in my heart to do,

he would have got only what
he deserved from me.

No, I never laid a hand on him,

I was spared the trouble.

I'll tell you my story.

There is no cause for
me to be ashamed of it.

You see me now with
my back like a camel,

my ribs all awry,

but there was a time when
Corporal Henry Wood

was the smartest man
in the Royal Mallows.

You were in the same regiment
as Colonel Barclay?

Oh, yes, but he was
Sergeant Jim Barclay then.

We were in the same company,

and we had something else in common,

we were both in love

with the same woman, Nancy Devoy.

Who was the daughter
of the Regimental Sergeant Major.

There were two men who loved her,

but

only one whom she loved,

She...

you'll laugh when you look at this
poor thing huddled in front of the fire

and hear me say that it was
for my good looks that Nancy

loved me.

I was the one she loved all along.

But although I had her heart,
her father didn't approve of me.

I was a harum-scarum,
reckless sort of lad,

but I was always honest and
plain dealing as well.

Oh, Nancy's father wanted her
to marry Barclay.

He was careful to keep out of trouble,
always did the right thing.

Not like me who took Nancy
to places her father didn't like.

Besides, Barclay had had an education,
he was already marked for the sword-belt.

RSM Devoy naturally thought Barclay
the better match for his daughter.

But she remained true to me,

and we would have married
had it not been for the Mutiny.

Why did Nancy Devoy not marry
the man she loved?

It was monsoon time in 1857,

when the Sepoys rose up
against the British.

The regiment was shut up in Bhurtee.

There were 10,000 rebels round us, pinning
us down like terriers round a rat cage.

We'd run short of food and ammunition,

we had to communicate with General
Neill's column that was moving up-country.

It was our only chance to get help.

Our company commander had asked
for a volunteer,

a fit, strong soldier to slip out
of the garrison at dead of night

and make contact with the relief column
out on the plain beyond.

Like a fool, I volunteered.

It was a dangerous mission all right,
there were a 1,000 lives in peril.

But I was thinking of
only one of them...

Nancy Devoy, the woman I loved,

and the finest girl that ever had
the breath of life between her lips.

Saying goodbye to her was
the hardest thing.

As we exchanged mementos,
I never thought that

I was saying goodbye to her
for 30 years.

It was my rival for Nancy's hand

who saw me off on my journey
through the enemy lines that night,

Sergeant Barclay.

He said he knew the lie of the land
around the garrison better than any other.

While I volunteered to make the journey,

Jim Barclay volunteered to advise me
on the best route to take.

So, just after then,

while my comrades gave me
covering fire, I set off.

Barclay had told me to follow a stream
which would lead to a gully.

This, he said,
was the safest way downhill.

His directions were perfect, and soon
I was wading through icy water

that only the day before
had been snow in the Himalayas.

I could see the lights and fires
in the rebels' camp

but I kept wading down,
out of sight of their sentry posts.

I came to the gully and
thought I was safe.

But then it happened, I was attacked.

Something hard cracked down
on my head and everything spun around.

When I came to,
I was trussed up like a chicken

and hanging from a tree.

My arms felt as though they were being
wrenched out of their sockets.

I didn't mind the pain,

but I was sick at heart
for having failed in my mission.

What would be the fate of those
I had been trying to save?

But the biggest blow came as I listened to
what I could understand of a rebels' talk.

I heard enough to realize
that I had been betrayed.

The very man who had shown me the way
to take had betrayed me to the enemy,

Barclay had got rid of me
to make sure he could have my girl.

Now, you know what James Barclay
was capable of.

Well, it turned out that General Neill's column
was already on its way to relieve Bhurtee.

The rebels retreated,
they dragged me away with them.

I was tortured. I tried to escape,
I was tortured again.

It was to be many a long year
before I saw another white face.

My captors fled north,
further into the hills,

and used me as a sort of slave.

I was treated worse than a dog and they
damn near broke every bone in my body.

Sometimes I'd wish
they'd just killed me,

but my thoughts of hatred and loathing
for the man who destroyed my life

kept me going.
I dreamed of revenge on Barclay.

One day some Afghan tribesmen
murdered the rebels that held me prisoner.

They left me for dead, too.
But by a miracle, I still lived.

So, I had my revenge on my torturers,

but Barclay was beyond my grasp.

And what of Nancy.

I had no means of knowing whether
she was alive or dead.

I wandered back to the Punjab,
and lived among the natives,

picking up a living by the conjuring tricks
I'd learned from the street magicians.

What use was it for me, a wretched cripple,
to get passage back by ship to England

and make myself known
to my old comrades in the regiment?

Even my desire to have my revenge
on Jim Barclay didn't make me go.

You know why? I'll tell you straight.

I preferred my Nancy and my old pals
in the Royal Mallows

to go on believing
that Harry Wood died a hero's death

with a straight back,
than see him crawling about the world

more like a chimpanzee
than a human being.

But you did return,

and to Aldershot where your old
regiment was stationed, why?

I just wanted to see the old country
once more before I died.

I saved what I could and
eventually I got a ship.

I didn't know the regiment was
stationed here in Aldershot,

I just wanted to be where
there were soldiers.

I could earn my keep going around the
canteens doing my tricks to entertain them.

I no longer wanted to kill Barclay,

the fires of revenge
had burned low over the years...

until

I saw her.

I thought I'd better get
some English tongs,

I looked comical enough without wearing
these foreign clothes the whole time.

At first, I was more interested in finding
a thick overcoat

than looking at the charity ladies
who were doling them out.

Then one of them came over,

I recognized her at once.

She'd hardly changed,

still beautiful.

What's more amazing is she...
she seemed to know me.

Good evening, can I help you?
Have you been able to find anything that...

I'm sorry, I thought I...

Nancy, it is me, Harry.

Don't be afraid.

I thought you had been dead
these 30 years.

I have been...

I thought I would never see you again.

We spoke for a moment or two together.

I told her some of my story.

I should have spared telling her that
her husband was a traitor but it all came

pouring out of me, 30 years of hate.

She was so effected by what I said,

I couldn't stand it, I went outside,

then I saw her come out of the mission
and I followed her home.

I saw her go into the house,
a light came on.

I saw her sitting in a chair.

And then he came into the room.

James, I have to talk to you.
Why are you locking that door.

Don't be back late, I said,
don't be back late, didn't I?

You've been with someone.
You have been with someone.

Who is it?

You've ruined my life.

All these years, all these years.

Oh, how could you do such a thing,
it was evil.

Now, I hate you, I hate you.
I hate you, I hate you.

To see him lay a hand on her
made me mad with anger.

My feelings overcame me.

David. David, you betrayed him.

It's not true.

But he's alive, I tell you
I've seen him.

You're lying, you're mad.

He looked as I have never seen
a man look.

I read death on his face
as plain as anything.

The bare sight of me was like a bullet
through his guilty heart.

Mrs. Barclay, Mrs. Barclay,
open the door.

He smashed onto the fender.
He was dead before he fell.

Mrs. Barclay, Mrs. Barclay,
open the door.

I took the key to the door from Nancy's
hand, intending to open it and get help,

I thought I'd better get away
or things might look black against me.

In haste, I thrust the key
into my pocket

whilst I was chasing Teddy who'd escaped
from his box and run up a curtain.

Teddy.

So, the Colonel died before
he struck his head on the fender?

An apoplectic fit, brought on by shock.

Mr. Wood, provided the coroner reaches
the same conclusion, Mrs. Barclay...

Nancy.

Will be free.

I trust you would have no objection
to repeating your story to the police,

should the need arise?

Mr. Holmes,

how is Nancy?

She's in hospital.

I understand in time she should
make a complete recovery.

Thank God.

Oh, Annie, how lovely to see you.

Yes, I'm much better.

Holmes, there's just one thing
I don't understand.

If the Colonel's name was James,

and Wood was called either Henry or
Harry, then who the deuce was David?

My dear Watson, that name David
should have told me the whole story

had I been the ideal reasoner,

which you are so fond of depicting but
alas, my powers of deduction failed me.

You see, David, in this case, was
evidently used as a term of reproach.

Reproach?

Don't you remember how King David
sent Uriah the Hittite

into the forefront of the battle to die so
that he might steal his woman, Bathsheba?

I think you will find the story
in the first or second book of Samuel.

My old testament is a little rusty.

You're quite right, Holmes,

II Samuel, 11:14-17.

You appear to have
looked it up yourself,

since we returned home
from Aldershot.

How did you know?

You used this bill for our meal at
Waterloo as a bookmarker, did you not?

Excellent, Watson.

Elementary, my dear Holmes.

Goodnight, old fellow.