The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984–1985): Season 2, Episode 1 - The Copper Beeches - full transcript

Something wrong?

To the man who loves art
for its own sake,

it is frequently in its least
important and lowliest manifestations

that the keenest pleasure
is to be derived.

Oh, if you say so, Holmes.

It is pleasant to me
to observe, Watson,

that you have so far
grasped this truth

that in these little
records of our cases

which you have been
good enough to draw up,

and I am bound to say,
occasionally embellish,

that you have given prominence
not so much to the many



cause Celebes and sensational
trials in which I have figured,

but rather to those incidents

which have given room for
those faculties of deduction

and logical synthesis which I
have made my special province.

Kind of you to say so, Holmes.

You have erred, perhaps-

you have erred...

in attempting to put color and life
into each of your statements.

Instead of confining yourself
to placing upon record

that severe reasoning
from cause to effect

which is really the only notable
feature about the thing.

You are always in a disputatious
mood when you choose that pipe.

It seems to me that I have done you
full justice in the matter.

No, no, no, no, no, no, it is not
selfishness or even conceit.



If I claim full justice for my art,
it is because

crime is common, logic is rare.

Therefore, it is upon logic rather than
upon crime that you should dwell.

You have degraded

what should have been a course of
lectures into a series of tales.

Really, Holmes, I hardly think my
poor scribblings deserve that.

They have, after all, made
your name a household word.

Oh, pshaw, my dear fellow,

what do the public,
the great unobservant public,

who can hardly tell a weaver by his
tooth or a compositor by his left thumb,

care about the finer shades
of analysis and deduction?

But, indeed, if you are trivial,
I cannot blame you,

the days of the great
cases are past.

Man, or at least criminal man, has
lost all enterprise and originality.

Oh, surely not.

I fear so.

As to my little practice, it seems to be
degenerating into an agency

for recovering lost lead pencils

and giving advice to young
ladies from boarding schools.

My dear, dear friend,
how can you say such a thing?

I think I have touched bottom,

finally. However, this note
I had this morning

marks my zero-point, I fancy.

Well, goodness, who is it from?

Read it

"Dear Mr. Holmes: I am
very anxious to consult you"

"as to whether I should or
should not accept a situation"

"which has been offered
to me as a governess."

"I shall call at half-past ten tomorrow
if I do not inconvenience you."

"Yours faithfully,
Violet Hunter."

I must confess to being
somewhat puzzled

by the contents of your letter,
Miss, uh, Hunter,

since the matter
on which you seek advice

is somewhat outside my
usual field of expertise.

Yes, I am aware of that.

But you will excuse my
troubling you, I am sure,

since I have recently had
a very strange experience.

Indeed?

As I have no parents or
relations of any sort

from whom I could ask advice,

I thought perhaps you would be kind
enough to tell me what I should do.

I shall be happy to serve you in
any way I can pray. Proceed.

There is a well-known agency for
governesses in the West End,

called Westaway's, and I have
lately been calling there about

once a week in order to see
whether anything has turned up

which might suit me.

It is managed by Miss Stoper.

She sits alone in her own office.

And the ladies who are seeking
employment wait in the anteroom,

and are then shown in one by one,

when she consults her
ledgers and sees whether

she has anything which
might suit them.

Miss Green has been on
our books for some years

and has excellent references.
In fact,

were it not for the swift return to
Kuala Lampur of her present employer,

who finds her most satisfactory,

she would not be available
today for your consideration.

Thank you, Miss Green.

Oh, that will do.

I could not ask
for anything better.

Oh, capital, capital.

Splendid.

Please be seated, Miss Hunter.

Now, then, you are looking
for a situation, miss?

Yes, sir.

As a governess?

Yes, sir.

And what salary do you ask?

I had four pounds a month in my last
place with Colonel Spence Munro.

He has given her an excellent
reference, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, doubtless, doubtless,
but four pounds a month?

If that seems too much...

Too much? oh, tut, tut,
that's sweating, sweating.

How could anyone offer
so pitiful a sum to a lady

with such attraction
and accomplishments?

My accomplishments, sir,
may be less than you imagine.

A little French, a little
German, music, drawing...

Oh, tut, tut, that is quite
beside the question.

The point is, have you
or have you not

the bearing and deportment
of a lady?

I mean, that is it in a nutshell.

I would hope to have
ladylike qualities, sir.

If you have not, then you are not
fitted for the rearing of a child

whose background and qualities
point to a brilliant future.

And if you have, why, how
can any gentleman ask you

to condescend to accept
anything under three figures?

Three figures, sir?

Your salary with me, madam

would commence at a
hundred pounds a year.

I hardly know what to say.

It has also been my custom
to advance my young ladies

a small portion
of their salary beforehand

so that they might meet any little

expenses of their journey
and their wardrobe.

Thank you, sir.

May I ask where you live?

Oh, Hampshire, charming rural place.
The Copper Beeches,

five miles on the further
side of Winchester.

Oh, it is the most lovely country,
my dear young lady,

and the dearest old country house.

And my duties, sir?

I should be glad to know
what they would be.

One child, one clear little
romper just six years old.

How charming.

Oh, Miss Stoper,

if you could only see him killing
cockroaches with a slipper,

three of them gone before
you could wink.

Very clever.

My sole duties, then, are to take
charge of a single child?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no,
not sole, my dear young lady.

Oh, what else, then?

Well, your duty would be, as I am sure
your good sense would suggest,

to obey any little commands
that my wife might give.

You said commands?

Provided, of course, that they were
such commands as any young lady

might with propriety obey.

You see no difficulty?

None,

whatsoever.

I should be happy
to make myself useful.

Quite so.

In dress, for example, we are
faddy people, you know, Miss Hunter,

faddy, but kind-hearted.

And if you were asked to wear
any dress that we might give you,

you would not object
to our little whims, huh?

Why, um, no.

Or to sit here, or to sit there,

and that would not be
offensive to you?

No.

Or to cut your hair quite
short before you come to us?

Cut my hair?

Quite short.

Well, I am afraid that's
quite impossible.

And I am afraid it
is quite essential.

It's a little fancy of my wife's.

And ladies' fancies,
my dear madam,

ladies' fancies must be consulted.

So you won't cut your hair?

No, sir, I'm afraid I could not.

Ah, Well,

it is a pity, because in other respects
you might have done very nicely.

In that case, Miss Stoper,

I had best inspect some
more of your ladies.

Miss Hunter,

do you desire your name
to be kept upon our books?

If you please, Miss Stoper.

Well, really,
it seems rather useless.

Since you refused the most
excellent offer in this fashion

you could hardly expect us
to exert ourselves

to find another such
opening for you.

I'm sorry,
Miss Stoper, but my hair...

Good day, Miss Hunter.

Now, why on earth should he
want you to cut your hair?

I don't know.

A very strange fact.

As you may observe, Mr. Holmes,
my hair is somewhat luxuriant

and a rather peculiar
tint of chestnut.

And most artistic,
if I may so observe.

It has been considered so.

I simply couldn't think of sacrificing it
in such an offhand manner.

Well, I should think not, indeed.

Oh, such was my feeling
at the time.

The next day I was inclined to think
that I had made a mistake,

and the day after
I was sure of it,

when I received a letter
from the gentleman himself.

I have it here,
and I will read it to you.

"Dear Miss Hunter: Miss Stoper has
kindly given me your address,"

"and I write from here to ask whether
you have reconsidered your decision."

"We are willing to give
30 pounds a quarter,"

"or 120 pounds a year,"

"so as to recompense you
for any little inconvenience"

"which our fads may cause you."

And your hair?

He is insistent.

"As regards your hair,
it is no doubt a pity,"

"especially as I could not
help remarking its beauty"

"during our short interview."

"But I am afraid I must
remain firm upon this point,"

"and I only hope
that the increased salary"

"may recompense you
for the loss."

Will it?

My mind is made up that
I will accept the offer.

I thought, however, that
before taking the final step.

I should like to submit the whole
matter for your consideration.

My dear Miss Hunter.

As your mind is already made up,
the matter is settled.

But, if at any time you should
find yourself in any doubt or danger...

Danger?

What danger do you foresee?

There seems to be a danger,
if we could define it.

But at any time, day or night,

a telegram will bring me
down to your help.

Then that is enough.

I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once,

and go down to Hampshire
quite easy in my mind now.

Thank you.

Well, Holmes?

I should allow no sister of mine
to accept such a situation.

That's my man, Toiler,
he likes to keep it secure.

But you look apprehensive,
Miss Hunter.

Not at all, Mr. Rucastle.

Good, good.

You must be Edward,
I have looked forward to meeting you.

Master Edward this is your new
governess, Miss Hunter.

Oh, I see you have
a present for Miss Hunter.

Oh, well done, good shot.

Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle?

All dead, Miss Hunter,
mostly dead.

Here we are, then,
come in, come in.

Oh, Mrs. Toiler, this is
Miss Violet Hunter.

Who is taking up the position
of governess to Master Edward.

How do you do, Miss Hunter?

Your room is all ready for you.

Thank you.

Come along now, Toiler,
fetch the trunk.

Oh, Miss Hunter,

after you are refreshed
from your journey,

I'll take you on a tour
of The Copper Beeches.

The premises is certainly
extensive, Mr. Rucastle.

Oh, yes, and the extensive
premises need protection.

Look in here, isn't he a beauty?

Don't be frightened Miss Hunter,
it's only Carlo, my mastiff.

I call him mine, but in fact,

Toiler is the only man
that can do anything with him.

He lets him loose at night,

and God help any trespasser
he lays his fangs upon.

We feed him once a day,
and not too much then,

so that he is always
keen as mustard.

Oh, for goodness sakes,
Miss Hunter,

under no pretext set foot
across this threshold at night.

It's as much as
your life is worth.

Come along, now.

Mrs. Rucastle will be here shortly,

and she will tell you
herself how delighted she is.

You are able to
accept this situation.

Your offer was a most
generous one, sir.

Though, well, I am still
curious about the conditions.

My little fads and fancies,
you mean?

Yes.

But they're nothing at all.

My wife is very fond of a
particular shade of electric blue,

and she would like you to wear such
a dress indoors in the morning.

But I do not have such a dress.

But we have one.

As to sitting here or there or

amusing yourself in any
matter indicated,

well, that need cause you no
inconvenience, need it?

No.

How do you do, Miss Hunter?

I'm sorry I was not here
to greet you, a slight indisposition

I trust you are
feeling better now?

Much better, thank you.

I was just telling Miss Hunter
about the blue dress.

Yes,

I think it would fit you
very well.

I wonder what desperate circumstances
could occasion such an appeal?

I have devised seven
separate explanations,

each of which would cover the
facts as far as we know them.

And which one do you favor,
Holmes?

At the moment,
I have no favorites.

Data, data, data,

I cannot make bricks without clay.

Well, it's nice to get away from the fogs
of Baker Street now and again.

What delightful little
farms these are,

don't you agree, aren't
they fresh and beautiful?

You know, Watson,

it is one of the curses
of having a mind

with a turn like mine that
I must look at everything

with reference to my
own special subject.

Well, it doesn't make the scenery
any less admirable, does it?

You look at these scattered houses,

and you are impressed by
their beauty. I look at them,

and the only thought which comes to
me is a feeling of their isolation

and of the impunity with which
crime may be committed there.

Good heavens,

who would associate crime
with these dear old homesteads?

They always filled me
with a certain horror.

It is my belief, Watson,
founded upon my experience,

that the lowest and vilest
alleys in London

do not present a more
dreadful record of sin

than does the smiling
and beautiful countryside.

Had this young lady who
appeals to us for help

gone to live in Winchester,

I should never have
had a fear for her.

It is the five miles of country
which makes the danger.

What can it mean, Mr. Holmes?

We cannot theorize without
data, I'm afraid.

Please, continue, Miss Hunter.

In the first place, I may say that
I have met, on the whole,

with no actual ill-treatment
from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle.

But I am not easy
in my mind about them

and I cannot understand them.

What can't you understand?

The reasons for their conduct.

For two days after my arrival at the
Copper Beeches, my life was very quiet.

On the third, I went downstairs
after breakfast to find

Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle
in the drawing room.

Mr. Rucastle informed me
that a dress, an electric blue dress,

had been laid out for me in my
bedroom, and asked me to put it on.

I did as he requested.

Oh, superb, Miss Hunter,
oh, quite superb.

Do you not agree?

It could not be a better fit,

not if you had been
measured for it.

Please, be so good
as to sit down, Miss Hunter.

Oh, perfect, I mean,
it's quite, quite perfect.

Over here, if you don't mind,
Miss Hunter.

There, there, there now, excellent.

Are you quite comfortable?

Yes, thank you.

How long do you wish me
to remain here, sir?

Oh, an hour, perhaps,
perhaps longer.

An hour?

Oh, but not, I assure you,
an hour of tedium.

Let us see how we can best
entertain and divert you.

Do you enjoy funny stories,
Miss Hunter?

Why, yes.

Well, then, I shall tell you some,

and all of them, I assure you,
absolutely true.

Let me tell you about George.

He is the most
extraordinary character.

Well, it seems, somebody wanted
to find his way to Winchester,

and George, he really
is such an eccentric,

you might mistake him
for a scarecrow,

I mean, his legs are all astray,
his arms always thrust out like this.

His head shaved like a turnip,

and on his head he wore
the most extraordinary hat...

Then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and
down on the other side of the room,

began to tell me a series of the
funniest stories I've ever listened to.

You cannot imagine
how comical he was.

I laughed till I was quite weary.

Two days later this same performance
was gone through again.

This is the peace of God,
that passes all understanding.

Oh, bless my soul,
is that the hour already?

Time has passed very quickly,
and most amusingly, sir.

Well, I'm glad to hear you say so.

But now, it is time for you
to attend to your duties,

so go and change your dress,

and then look to little
Edward in the nursery.

You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes.

How curious I became as to
what the meaning of this

extraordinary performance could be.

Since my face was always
turned away from the window,

I became consumed
with the desire to see

what was going on behind my back.

On the very next occasion

I managed to conceal a small
piece of mirror in my hand.

Oh, George, I can't tell you...

In the midst of my laughter,
I raised my handkerchief to my eyes,

and was able with a little management
to see all there was behind me.

There was nothing,

at least that was
my first impression.

At second glance, however,

I perceived that there
was a bearded man

leaning against the railings
which bordered our field,

and was looking up
earnestly at the house.

I lowered my handkerchief
and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle,

to find her eyes fixed upon me
in a most searching gaze.

She said nothing

but I'm convinced she divined
I had a mirror in my hand.

Jephro,

there is an impertinent fellow
who stares up at Miss Hunter.

Oh, does he indeed?

No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?

No, I know no one in these parts.

Oh, dear me, how very impertinent.

Quite intolerable.

Kindly turn around Miss Hunter,
and motion him to go away.

Surely it would be better
if we took no notice.

What, and have him loitering
here always? No,

turn around, Miss Hunter,
and wave him away like this.

That was a week ago,

and from that time I have
not sat in the window,

nor have I worn the blue dress,

nor seen the man with the beard.

But something else occurred,

an event which caused you
to summon me with such urgency?

Yes.

Yes.

Oh, Mr. Holmes, I've never been
so frightened.

Do not distress yourself,
Miss Hunter,

compose yourself, and then
tell us what it was.

There is a turret to the house

which appears not
to be inhabited at all.

A door which faces that
which leads into the quarters

of the Toilers
opens into the turret,

but it is invariably locked.

It was only yesterday
that the chance came

for me to pass beyond the door.

Toiler?

Yes.

So it was you, then.

I thought it must be when
I saw the door open.

I'm so frightened.

Oh, my dear young lady.

Oh, my dear young lady,

what has frightened you,
my dear young lady?

I-

I was foolish enough to go up
into the shuttered turret.

You noticed it was
shuttered then?

Yes.

Photography is one of my hobbies.

I have made my dark room up there.

What an observant young
lady one has come upon.

It was so lonely and eerie
in this dim light

that I was frightened
and ran out again.

It's so dreadfully still in there.

Only that?

Why, yes, what do you think,
what other reason?

Why do you think
I keep that door locked?

I'm sure I don't know.

It is to keep people out who have
no business there, do you see?

I'm sure if I had known...

Well, you know now.

And if you ever set foot
across that threshold again,

I'll throw you to the mastiff.

I was so terrified that
I didn't know what to do.

Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes.

I had no difficulty
in getting leave to come

to Winchester this morning,
but I must be back by 3:00 o'clock,

for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle
are going on a visit

and will be away all evening,
so that I must look after the child.

Now I've told you all of
my adventures, Mr. Holmes.

What does it mean,
and what should I do?

Does the unspeakable child
Edward have a friend?

Yes, uh,

an equally unpleasant child
at one of the farm cottages.

Splendid.

Dr. Watson and I will arrive at
the Copper Beeches at 4:30 precisely.

But before then, there are one or two
things I should like you to do.

I would not ask this
of you, Miss Hunter,

if I did not think you were
quite an exceptional woman.

Done what you should've?

Mrs. Toiler?

Mrs. Toiler.

Mrs. Toiler, I think Edward has
locked himself in the cellar.

The cellar?

Well, I can't find him anywhere,
and it is past his tea time.

Well, just the same,
I don't see why Master Edward

would have locked
himself in the cellar.

Well, the door was open earlier.
I saw Toiler come out with a bottle.

Perhaps he went down
to look for cockroaches.

It's locked.

There you are, miss.

After you.

Our destination.

Holmes, can we be quite sure
the mastiff isn't loose?

We can be sure of nothing
until we reach the house.

Good God, what was that?

Come quickly.

To the left, Mr. Holmes.

There has been some villainy here.

It looks as though someone
has gone across the roof.

Alice.

Alice, Alice, Alice.

Alice?

Where is my daughter?

That is for me to ask you that.

His daughter?

Thieves, you spies,

thieves and spies.

I have caught you, have I?

I have you in my power,
just serve you.

What does he mean?

He's gone for the dog.

Watson.

Someone has loosed the dog.
It's not been fed for two days.

Quick, before it's too late.

Still unconscious.
I've done what I can for him,

now he needs a surgeon
as soon as possible.

I've dispatched Toiler to Mrs. Rucastle
to summon such assistance.

Oh, miss, it's a pity you didn't
let me know what you were planning.

I could have told you
your pains were wasted.

It's clear Mrs. Toiler knows more of
this matter than anyone else.

Well, yes, sir, I do,

and I'm... I'm ready enough to
tell you what I know.

But if there's police
court business over this,

you will remember I was
Miss Alice's friend.

Miss Alice?

Mr. Rucastle's daughter
by his first marriage.

Ah, the mystery of
the shuttered turret.

Mrs. Toiler, please sit down.

Now, tell me all you know.

Well,

she was never happy at home,
Miss Alice wasn't,

from the time that her
father married again.

She... she was slighted like,
and had no say in anything.

But... but it didn't
became bad for her

until after she met Mr. Fowler.

And pray, who is Mr. Fowler?

Well, he was Miss Alice's young man.

You... you might have
seen him hanging about.

Out in the road by the field.

Yes.

And how did Mr. Fowler's
involvement

bring Miss Alice to her
distressing circumstances?

Well, as far as I could learn,

Miss Alice had rights of her own
under her late mother's will,

but she was so quiet
and patient, she was,

she never said a word
about them but

just left everything in
Mr. Rucastle's hands.

Well, he knew he was
safe with her, but

when there was a chance of
a husband coming forward,

who would ask for all the law
will give him, well, then,

her father thought it time
to put a stop on it.

He wanted her to sign a paper

so that whether she married or not,
he could use her money.

Well, when she wouldn't do it,
he kept worrying her,

worrying her,
till she got brain-fever

for six weeks
she was at death's door.

When she got better at last,
all worn to a shadow, and with her

beautiful hair cut off,

he moved her to the turret room,

where she was kept prisoner.

But that didn't make no
change in her young man

and he stuck to her
true as a man could be.

And then Mr. Rucastle brought
Miss Hunter down from London

in order to impersonate his daughter
and get rid of the young man.

Well, that was it, sir.

But Mr. Fowler being a-
a persevering gentleman

as a good sailor should be,

blockaded the house.

And having met you succeeded
by certain arguments,

metallic and otherwise.

In convincing you that your
interests were the same as his?

Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken

free-handed, gentleman.

And in this way he managed
that your husband

should not want for drink,
the gates unlocked,

thus insuring that the mastiff
should remain chained,

and that a ladder should be ready to
assist him in the rescue of Miss Alice?

You have it, sir,
just as it happened.

And thus was solved the mystery
of the sinister house

called The Copper Beeches.

Mr. Rucastle survived,
but was always a broken man,

kept solely alive through
the care of his devoted wife.

They still live with their servants

who probably know so much
of Rucastle's past

that he finds it difficult
to part from them.

Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle
were married by special license,

and he now holds a government
position on the island of Mauritius.

Miss Hunter is now head
of a private school in Walsall

where I gather she has met
with considerable success.

There, Holmes, your verdict?

An admirable account, Watson.

Oh, you don't think I've put too
much colour and life into it?

Oh, my dear friend,

I humbly defer such considerations
to your excellent literary judgement.

Good.