The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984–1985): Season 2, Episode 2 - The Greek Interpreter - full transcript

Mr. Cretites?

...Paul Cretites.

My name is Latimer.
I've come to meet you, Mr. Cretites.

Just come this way. Mr. Cretites.
We have a carriage waiting.

During my long and intimate
acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes,

I'd never heard him
refer to his relations,

and hardly ever to his
own early life.

Because of this reticence,
I sometimes found myself

regarding him as an
isolated phenomenon

as deficient in human sympathy

as he was pre-eminent
in intelligence.



I'd come to believe that he was
an orphan with no relatives living.

But one day, to my
very great surprise,

he began to talk to me
about his family.

My singular gift
of observation introduction

may have come from
my grandmother,

who was a sister of Bernais,
the French artist.

The art in the blood is liable to take
the strangest forms.

For example, my brother, Mycroft.

Your brother?

I didn't know you had a brother?

Oh, yes. And I can assure you,
he possesses a far greater

faculty of observation and
deduction than I do.

Holmes, I know that
you are a modest man...

My dear Watson,



I cannot agree with those
that rank modesty among the virtues.

To the legation, everything
should be seen exactly as it is.

And to underestimate one's self

is as much a departure from the truth
as to exaggerate one's own ability.

What I have just told you about my
brother is the exact and literal truth.

Well, naturally,
I don't doubt your word.

But if there is another man in England
with such singular powers,

how is it that neither
the police nor the public

have ever heard of him,
let alone myself?

He's very well known
in his own circles.

Where then?

The Diagones Club.

It is the oddest club in London,
and my brother one of the oddest men.

I suppose you wish to meet him?

Well, of course I do,

even if it's just to prove that he exists.

Then you shall, this afternoon.

He has come across the
most singular problem,

which he thinks might interest me.

But why does Mycroft not use
his great powers for detective work?

If the art of the detective began and
ended in reasoning from an arm chair,

my brother would be the greatest
criminal agent that ever lived.

What is to me a means of livelihood

is to him the merest hobby
of a dilettante.

But he has no ambition and no energy.

What is his profession, then?

He has an extraordinary
faculty for figures.

He audits the books for some of
the government departments.

But what are the qualifications
for the Diogenes Club?

Shyness and misanthropy-

my brother is one of
the founding members.

It contains the most unsociable

and clubful men in time
who speak not a word

and shun even the merest glance.

Now, let us enter.

Yes, but...

Not a word.

Holmes, have you...

We can talk in here.

Well, thank goodness.

Look at those two men, Sherlock.

What do you make of them?

The billiard marker and the other?

Precisely.
What do you make of the other?

An old soldier, I perceive.

And very recently distraught?

Served in India, I see.

And a non-commissioned officer.

Relativity, I fancy.

And a widower?

With a Child.

Children, my dear boy, children.

Mycroft Holmes.
Glad to meet you, Dr. Watson.

I hear of Sherlock everywhere
since you became his...

Well, thank you.

For anyone who wishes to study
mankind, this is the spot.

But surely you were taking things
a little too far just now?

It is not hard to say Watson,
that a man of that bearing,

and especially of authority and some big
skin as a soldier is more than a private.

And is not long for India.

That is not long since left the service shown
by his still wearing his ammunition boots,

as they're called.

He has not the cavalry stride.

But he wore his hat on one side
as is shown by the lighter skin

on one side of his brow.

His weight is against him being
a sapper. He is in the artillery.

There goes his complete mourning shows
that he has lost someone very dear.

The fact that he's doing his own shopping
looks as though it was his wife.

He's been buying things for children,
as you can see.

There is a wrap, which shows that
one of them is very, very young.

And the fact that he has a picture book
under his arm shows there is another child.

Aha, Mr. Merlas.

Come in, sir.

These are my friends.

This is Dr. Watson,

and this is my younger
brother, Sherlock.

You're Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

I've asked Mr. Merlas to step across.
He lodges on the first floor above me,

and I thought you'd be
interested in his story.

He's the reason why I
asked you to call today.

Mr. Merlas, he came to me, well...

But I think I shall ask Mr. Merlas to
tell his own very remarkable experiences

in his own fashion.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

For many years, I have been the chief
Greek interpreter in London.

I do not think that the
police believe my story.

On my word, I do not.

Just because they have
never heard of it before,

they think that such a thing cannot be.

But I know that I shall never be easy
in my mind until I know what has become

of my poor man with a sticking
plastered up on his face.

Sticky...

Mr. Merlas, please sit down.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes,
I prefer to stand.

Watson.

I am all attention.

All this happened only two days ago,
on Monday night.

I am Greek by instruction.
And earn my living as an interpreter.

It often happens
that I'm sent for at strange hours

by foreigners who would
get into difficulties

or by travelers who would arrive late
and wish my services.

Mr. Merlas?

Yes.

I apologize for this intrusion, but I need
the services of an interpreter immediately.

My name is Latimer.

Immediately?

I wouldn't insist unless
it were urgent, but

a Greek friend of mine has just arrived
in this country on business matter.

Unfortunately, he speaks nothing
but his own tongue.

I likewise so. Mr. Merlas, please.
My carriage is waiting outside.

How far away?

Only to Kensington.

I'm sorry to have to cut off
your view, Mr. Merlas, but the fact is,

I have no intention that you should
see the place to which we are driving.

It might possibly be inconvenient to me if
you were able to find your way back again.

This is very extraordinary
conduct, Mr. Latimer.

You must be aware that what you're doing
is quite illegal.

It is somewhat of a liberty, no doubt.
But we'll make it up to you.

For nearly two hours, we drove, without my
having the least idea as to where I was.

Did you not notice any change
of sound under the wheels?

I listened, Mr. Holmes.

Sometimes we seemed to be on a paved
causeway, sometimes on asphalt,

but there was nothing
to tell me where I was.

And no other sounds...
a ship's siren or church bell?

I'm sorry, nothing like that.

At what time did you finally reach
your destination?

Ten minutes to 9:00 exactly.

Is this Mr. Merlas, Harold.

Yes.

Well done, Ha Ha Ha, well done.

No ill will, Mr. Merlas, I trust,

but we could not get on without you.

If you deal fair with us,
you'll not regret it,

but if you try any tricks,
God help you.

What do you want of me?

Only to ask a few questions of
a Greek gentleman who's visiting us,

and to let us have the answers.
But, you say no more than you are told,

or it were better you had
never been born.

Mr. Merlas, pray continue.

Well then, this man, this evil man,

showed me to a room which appeared
to be very curiously furnished.

But again, the only light
was afforded by a single lamp

half turned down.

The slate, Harold.

Are his hands loose?

Take this.

You will ask the questions, Mr. Merlas,
and he will write the answers.

Ask him, first of all whether
he's prepared to sign the papers?

"Never."

On no conditions?

He writes, "only if I see her married in my
presence by a Greek priest, whom I know."

You know what awaits you, then?

He says, "I care nothing for myself."

And so it went on,

again and again I had to ask him whether
he would give in and sign the document.

Again and again, I had
the same indignant reply.

But soon, a thought came to me.

I took to adding on little sentences
of my own to each question,

innocent ones at first, to test whether
either of our companions

knew anything of the matter.

And then, as I found that
they showed no sign,

I played a more dangerous game.

This obstinacy is doing you no good.

He says, "I care not."

In fact, he had also told me
he was a stranger in London.

He then told me he had been here three
weeks, and was being forcibly starved.

Starved?

Did you manage to find out his name?

Cretites. He was from Athens.

But that was all I could
discover, unfortunately.

Another five minutes,
and I should have wormed out

the whole story
under their very noses.

Ask him again, Mr. Merlas.

But at that instant, the door opened,

and a woman stepped into the room.

He says, "never."

Well, ask him again!

Harold, I could not stay
away any longer.

Sophia, Sophia, Sophia!

That will do, Mr. Merlas.

As you perceive,

we have taken you into our confidence
over some very private business.

Here are five sovereigns,
which will, I hope, be a sufficient fee.

But remember, if you speak
to anyone about this,

one human soul mind,

well, may God have mercy
on your soul.

As before, I was taken in a closed
carriage for almost two hours.

There I was abandoned, as
I was later to discover,

near Wentsworth Common.

I did not know where I had been,

nor whom I had spoken
with nor anything,

saving what I have told you.

But I know there
is foul play going on

and I want to help that
unhappy man... before God, I do.

Mycroft.

Mycroft!

What steps have you taken so far?

Well, this was in all the daily papers,

"Anyone having information as to the
whereabouts of a Greek gentleman"

"named Paul Cretites, who cannot
speak English, will be rewarded."

"As ever a reward will be paid to anyone
having information about a Greek lady,"

"whose first name is Sophia,"
name is Sophia," but no answer as yet.

What about the Greek Legation?

I have tried. They know nothing.

The head of the Athens
police, then!

Sherlock has all the
energy in the family.

When you take up a case, by all means,
let me know if you do any good!

Certainly.

Mr. Merlas, sir.

I should be extremely careful
if I were you, but of course,

through these advertisements.
They'll know that you've betrayed them.

Whoops.

On your way.

It seems to me obvious that
this Greek girl has been

carried off by the young Englishman,
Harold Latimer.

Carried off from where?

Athens, perhaps?

No, no, no... this Harold Latimer
cannot speak a word in Greek.

The girl speaks English fairly well,
inference,

that she has been in England some
little time, and he has not been in Greece.

Thank you Miss Jackson.

Then, let's presume that the girl was
visiting in England and that this Harold.

Persuaded her to fly with him.

That is more probable.

Then the brother, that
must be the relationship,

comes over from Greece
in order to intervene,

they see him, use violence to force him
to sign some documents,

making over the girl's
fortune to them.

He's probably the trustee. This
as we have heard he refuses to do.

So far. But these men
will not stop now.

Whatever happens, Watson,
we must find them.

How can we?

Well, if our conjecture is correct.
And the girl's name is, or was

Sophia Cretites, we should have
no difficulty in tracing her.

That must be our main hope.

The brother, of course,
is a complete stranger.

Come in, Sherlock.
Come in, sir.

You don't expect such energy from me,
do you, Sherlock, hmm?

Now, How did you get here?

I passed you while you were
in the telegraph office.

I had an answer to my advertisement.

It came within a few minutes
of your leaving.

And what effect?

It is written with a Jay
pen on royal cream paper

by a middle-aged man
with a weak constitution.

"Sir, in answer to your
advertisement of today's date."

"I beg to inform you that I know
the young lady in question very well."

"If you should care to call upon me,
I could give you some particulars"

"as to her painful history."

"She's at present at Memerkle's Beckinum.
Yours faithfully, Jay Davenport."

He writes from Lower Brigestone.

Do you not think we should drive
there now and learn these particulars?

My dear Mycroft.

Her brother's life is more important
than the sister's story.

But we should call at Scotland Yard
for Inspector Gregson and then go

straight out to Beckinum,

where we know that a man
is being done to death,

Every hour maybe vital.

Better pick up
Mr. Merlas on the way?

Why?

Because we may need
a Greek interpreter.

Excellent, Watson.

I should say from
what we have heard

that we are dealing with
a particularly dangerous guy.

Mr. Merlas?

Yes?

There's a gentleman
downstairs to see you, sir.

What gentleman?

Well, he said he met you
today at the Diogenes Club.

Mr. Holmes! Thank you!

Good evening.

Mr. Merlas.

Good evening Mrs. Sterd, Would you tell
Mr. Merlas I need to see him urgently.

Well, Mr. Merlas is not here, sir.

A gentleman just called for him,
and he left.

Can you tell me where?

Oh, I don't know, sir. All I know is, he
drove off with a gentleman in a carriage.

Did the gentleman give a name?

No, sir.

He wasn't a tall,
handsome, dark, young man?

Oh, no, sir. He was a little gentleman,
with glasses, thin in the face,

but very pleasant in his ways. He was
laughing all the time he was talking.

Thank you.

Scotland Yard, and hurry!

It cannot be done without a warrant!

We are not disputing that, Inspector.

Even if they are criminals, it is a
private house and the law demands...

The law demands that we act quickly.

Can you not find a Magistrate
to sign this warrant for us?

A this hour?

At this very minute,

our kidnapping could become murder.

I can but try.

Please do.

Tell him,
I have ceased being reasonable.

If he does not sign the papers now,

I Will kill him.

Tell him I have no more patience.

Please, Inspector.
Will you not come without a warrant?

I am sorry, gentlemen...

We have wasted nearly an hour.

The law cannot
be hurried, Mr. Holmes.

The life of Mr. Merlas
is in your hands, Inspector.

Tell him, tell him if I kill him.

I have no use anymore.

For his sister,
and she will die, also.

But you wouldn't...

Tell him!

Here it is, gentlemen.
It's signed.

Now get someone to drive us
to London Bridge Station.

I pray we're not too late!

A carriage heavily loaded with luggage
has passed that within the last half-hour.

Wait for us here.

The nest is empty
and the birds are flown.

It's sulfur!

Mycroft, get the lamp!

Come, help me with the bodies!

Quick!

The poor wretch must be
Paul Cretites.

No more, I'm afraid.
His life is over.

We should have been
here sooner, Inspector!

He must have been dead
about four hours.

The gas made of sulfur,
am I not right, Dr. Watson?

Beaten to death.

But Mr. Merlas still lives.

Quick! Let's get him out of here
as fast as possible! Inspector, brandy!

Relax, Mr. Merlas,
you're in safe hands.

From a brief look at her room, the lady
left in haste, but without a struggle.

That man Latimer must still
have some power over her.

One wonders,

with how much remorse she abandoned
her brother for Harold Latimer?

You still retain your
low opinion of women?

In this instance,
I cannot maybe justify.

Holmes,

they appear to have
consulted a Bradshaw.

Look at this page.

The boat train.

The murderers won't get far. Have man
at every port in England, if need be.

The boat train makes one stop
between London and Dover.

At Hum Hill in 23 minutes, precisely.

Exactly. Stay with your chief
witness, Inspector.

You may need a statement from him.

And he will need your help. A little
brandy, and ammonia at frequent intervals.

Mycroft,
I'm not built for running so hard!

Tickets, please!

Will you kindly have your
tickets ready, please?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes?
Well, I've read about your cases, sir.

Are we the last passengers from
whom you have collected tickets?

Indeed, sir. I always work at
the engine, start there,

and work my way back
to the garden.

Then you can help me.

There are three passengers, two men
and a woman, traveling together.

They may not appear to be companions,
but they will be in a compartment alone.

The elder man wears thick-lensed glasses,
and the younger one is quite handsome.

They will have a great deal of
luggage marked for the Continent.

Have you seen such a party?

Yes, indeed, I can
help you, Mr. Holmes.

I never doubted it.

There are two parties who fit
that description, Mr. Holmes.

Two?

Ticket, please.

In Compartment B4.

B4.

...and D8.

Thank you, Inspector.

How do you know which
two are the murderers?

It couldn't be simpler.

No, don't wake him.

There's danger enough
for the two of us.

A left-handed printer from Detford.

His older brother drinks too much
and is pained by his liver.

Can't harm mine then.

Whatever.

And the girl?

She knows neither of them
she's a machinist from Bradford

who's going on a Holiday
to find romance.

Which means, undoubtedly, the
murderers aren't in Compartment B4.

Thank you, Miss Cretites.

Do sit still, Mr. Latimer.
Do come in, Watson.

Who the hell are you?

The third member of the party is
absent, but I'm sure he will return.

Miss Cretites, may I ask if you are
this man's prisoner or companion?

Don't say anything.

They have no right to ask
you anything at all.

If they were the police,
they would have said so.

Why the police, Mr. Latimer?

Were you expecting to meet them?

Look, I don't know who you are nor
do I know how you know my name,

but I'm traveling with my fiancee
to the Continent to get married.

So, would you please leave us alone?
Otherwise, I shall be obliged to call a guard.

Please do. I'm sure Dr. Watson
would do it for you.

Ah, I see you know who I am?

Then may I be permitted to ask
your fiancee the question again?

It's true what he said.
We are going to be married.

Where?

In Athens.

I fear not.

And who is going to stop us?

If not the police, then I will.

Miss Cretites, do you seriously
want me to believe

that you are leaving
England willingly?

Yes.

To marry the man who has
just murdered your brother?

That's not true.

Paul! Murdered?

It isn't true, is it?

He's going to meet us in
Greece as soon as he's well.

That's what you said to me.

And he will Sophia, he will.

Your brother is dead,
Miss Cretites.

Don't listen to him.

I found his body myself
in the house in Beckinum.

He had been murdered.

Tortured to death.

No, it can't be.
Harold, tell me what's happened!

As for you, Mr. Latimer.
Mr. Merlas is alive as a witness

to see you hanged.

Help me, Sophia, help me!

Help me!

Help me! Help me!

...went very well,
very well indeed.

I have friends dead.

Yes, but I need not,

elaborate as I see you are
a man of the world, sir?

On the contrary.
I've never left England in my life.

Haven't you?

Then sir, if you must choose
one country,

it must be Greece-

the land of Gods,
olives and intrigue.

It is my destination, Greece.

Do you speak Greek, sir?

No, but one can always
find a good interpreter.

Thank you.

An excellent meal.

Well, good bye, sir.
It was a pleasure meeting you.

Well, good bye. It was
an interesting conversation.

I do apologize.

Sometimes, I forget my size.

Goodbye again.

Is it true about Paul?

I'm afraid so.

I hated Harold Latimer.

I hated him, and I loved him.

I would have done anything he said.

I would have gone anywhere with him.

Even though he murdered
your brother?

Yes, even then.

Mr. Cana,
we were expecting you.

I believe this is your revolver, sir?

Well, brother of mine, we seem to be
heading down the path of crime.

The only path I intend to take
is the door to the Diogenes Club

which I will close behind me.

What will become of her?

After questioning nothing.

It is not a crime to have a cold heart,
and not a single shred of compassion.