The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984–1985): Season 2, Episode 3 - The Norwood Builder - full transcript

Knowing that he is about to be arrested for murder, John Hector McFarlane asks for Sherlock Holmes' assistance in establishing his innocence. McFarlane is a solicitor who was visited the previous day by Jonas Oldacre who wanted to draw up a will. McFarlane was astonished to learn that Oldacre was naming him as the beneficiary of his fortune. McFarlane had never met the man who claimed to have known his parents long ago and having no issue of his own, wanted to leave everything to him. McFarlane drew up the papers and called at Oldacre's home that evening to have everything signed but sometime in the night the man was killed and the body burned beyond all recognition. Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard thinks he has an open and shut case but after Holmes interviews McFarlane's mother, he thinks there is something else afoot.

Thank you, George.

From the point of view
of the criminal expert,

London has become a singularly odd,
interesting city.

Well, I hardly think you'll find many
decent citizens to agree with you.

Well, well, well,
one must not be selfish.

The community's the gain,
and no one the loser

say the poor, unfortunate specialist
whose occupation was got.

You must have been totally...

There's the case of the
papers of ex-President...

and shocking affair of the
Dutch steamship Treesman

which very nearly cost
us both our lives.



Both of them great successes.

I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes is not at home.

If I fail to see him now,
it will be too late.

But I'm sorry, I cannot help you.

But it is a matter
of the utmost urgency.

I have already told you,
young man... Mr. Holmes.

Mr. Holmes!

Well, I must see you.

I told the young man you weren't
here, but he wouldn't listen.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but
I'm nearly out of my mind.

I am the unhappy
John Hector McFarlane.

Now, tell us quietly and slowly who
you are and what it is that you want.

You mentioned your name just now as if I
should recognize it, but I can assure you,

beyond the obvious facts that you are
a bachelor, a solicitor and a free mason



and an asthmatic.
I know nothing about you whatever.

Your untidy clothes,
sheaf of legal papers,

watch chain and your somewhat
irregular breathing.

Why, yes, Mr. Holmes,
I am all these things.

And in addition, I am at this moment,
the most unfortunate man in London.

I mean, I've read
your newspaper.

Not yet.

Then, if you would allow me.

"At about 12 o'clock last night, an
instance occurred at Lower Norwood"

"which points,
it is feared, to a serious crime."

"A small timber yard caught fire
at the back of a house"

"belonging to
Mr. Jonas Oldacre, a builder."

"Surprise was expressed
at Mr. Oldacre's absence,"

"and it became apparent
he had disappeared."

"An examination of his room revealed
a safe which was open,"

"signs of a murderous struggle,"

"and a heavy walking stick with
stains of blood upon the handle."

All I ask is that you don't abandon me.

A man has followed me
from London Bridge Station.

If they arrest me before I finish
my story, make them give me time

so that I may tell
you the whole truth.

I could go to jail happy if I knew
that you were outside working for me.

Arrest you?
This is really most gratifying.

On what charge do you
expect to be arrested?

Upon the charge of murdering
Mr. Jonas Oldacre of Lower Norwood.

Dear me!

"As we go to press, sensational
developments have been reported."

"Charred remains have been found
among the ashes of the fire,"

"and the police theory is that the
victim was clubbed to death"

"and the body ignited."

"It is known that Mr. Oldacre
received a visitor last night,"

"and the stick has been identified
as belonging to that person"

"a young London solicitor, by the
name of John Hector McFarlane."

May I ask why you are still
at liberty, Mr. McFarlane,

as there seems to be enough
evidence to justify your arrest?

I live with my mother,
at Torrington Lodge in Blackheath,

but last night. having late business
with Mr. Oldacre,

I stayed at an hotel in Norwood.

Mr. Holmes,

I knew nothing of this affair until I was
on the train to my office this morning

and read what you have just heard.

I saw at once the terrible danger
of my position

and hurried to put the case
in your hands.

Ah, Inspector Lestrade,

we have been expecting you.

Mr. Holmes? Dr. Watson?

Mr. John Hector McFarlane?

Yes.

I arrest you for the willful murder of
Mr. Jonas Oldacre of Lower Norwood.

Hold up, just one moment.

A half an hour more or less could
make little difference to you,

and this young gentleman was
about to give us an account

of this very interesting affair
which might aid us in clearing it up.

There will be no difficulty in
clearing it up, thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Nevertheless, I think
with your permission.

I would be much interested
in hearing his account.

Well, Mr. Holmes, there's no denying
that you have been of use to the force

once or twice in the past,
but I must insist...

All I ask is that you should hear
and recognize the absolute truth.

I'll give you half an hour.

Sit down, McFarlane.

Thank you, Lestrade.

We must warn you with what you say
now will appear in evidence against you.

Pray continue.

I must first explain that I knew
nothing of Mr. Jonas Oldacre,

although his name
was familiar to me.

Many years ago, my parents
were acquainted with him, but,

well, they drifted apart.

And so it came as a complete
surprise when yesterday afternoon,

at about 3 o'clock,
he walked into my office in the city.

Mr. Oldacre, good afternoon,
I'm Mr. McFarlane.

Would you care to come through?

Please, won't you sit down?

How can I help you?

This is a draft of my Will.

I want you, Mr. McFarlane,
to cast it into proper legal shape.

I shall sit here while you do so.

You can understand my
astonishment, Mr. Holmes.

When I found that, with
some minor reservations,

his entire estate had been left to me.

But I... I simply don't understand.

Well, then, let me explain.

I'm a bachelor, Mr. McFarlane,
with few relatives,

and none who deserve
my consideration.

Well, that may well be so...

Let me... let me finish.

I beg your pardon.

For many years now, I've
withdrawn from my business.

I was a builder, and though I say it
myself, an extremely successful one.

Successful enough to have
gained considerable wealth and thus

live out my life in complete,
if solitary, comfort.

Many years ago, I knew your mother.

Knew her, and hoped to marry her.
Then she met and married your father.

I had no idea.

Well, and why should you?

Three months ago, why.
I read of your father's death

in The Daily Telegraph and
my mind was turned to your mother

and to the son who might
very well have been my own.

This is my way of
securing your future.

I know that whatever I leave
will be in worthy hands.

What can I say, but thank you?

There are a few documents I think
you should see, building leases,

title deeds, mortgages and so on.

Well, now my mind's made up, I shan't
rest easy until the whole thing's settled.

I beg you to come to my house tonight.

- What shall we say, 9 o'clock?
- Why, yes.

You'll of course bring the finalized
Will, and then we can

settle the matter once and for all.
Thank you, my boy.

Oh, one last thing.

Not a word of this to your dear
mother until everything is settled.

I want it to be a little surprise
for her.

- Little? I-
- You... you promise?

You have my word.

I left in good time for my appointment.
But had difficulty in finding the house.

So that it was nearly half-past
before I reached it.

Good evening I have an appointment
with Mr. Oldacre.

Mr. McFarlane?

Yes, that's right.

It was not the warmest of receptions.

And the house itself had a
peculiar, unloved feeling.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my boy.

Not at all, sir.
I'm a little late, I'm afraid.

Now, you brought the papers?

- Yes, indeed.
- Excellent.

The bedroom was on the ground floor

where there was a large safe.

Bring the rest of
those papers, my boy.

Now, to business.

All done?

Yes, sir, all done.

Just seen the time, my boy.
You must get home.

Oh, thank you.

I had a stick with me.

Ah, I wonder where she put it?

A rather heavy walking stick.
It belonged to my father.

Ah, never mind, I'll take good care
of it until we meet again.

After all, I shall be seeing
a great deal of you now, I hope.

Indeed you shall, sir.

I left him there.

The safe was open, and the
documents were on his desk.

It was too late to go back
to Blackheath, and

so I spent the night at an hotel
in Norwood.

I knew nothing more of this horrible
affair until this morning.

Do you have the original draft of
the Will that Oldacre brought to you?

Why, yes, I... I have it here.

May I retain this for
24 hours, Inspector?

If it would amuse you.

Well, anything more you'd
like to ask, Mr. Holmes?

Not until I've been to Blackheath.

You mean Norwood?

No doubt, that is what
I must have meant.

Now, Mr. McFarlane,

my Constable's at the door,
there's a four-wheeler waiting.

Morning, gentlemen.

Morning.

There are certain points about
this document, are there not Watson?

Well, I can read the first two lines and
these in the middle of the second-

page and one or two at the end,
I mean, they're as clear as print but-

the writing in between is very bad,

and there's several places
where I can't read it at all.

What do make of that?

What do you make of it?

That it was written on the train.

The good writing represents stations,

the bad writing movement,
and the very bad writing...

Passing over the points?

A scientific expert would
pronounce at once

that it was drawn up
on a suburban line.

Since nowhere, save in the immediate
vicinity of a great city,

could there be so quick
a succession of points.

Granting that his whole journey

was occupied in drawing up the Will

then the train must
have been an express,

stopping only once between
Norwood and London Bridge.

Yes, but it's curious, is it not, that a
man should draw up so important a document

in so haphazard a fashion?

And it suggests that he thought it was
going to be of no practical importance.

Well, he drew up his death
warrant at the same time.

This case is not clear to me.

Come, Watson!

Where are we going Norwood?

No, Blackheath. Come!

My son's the gentlest
creature on God's earth.

It's inconceivable he could even
contemplate such a terrible crime.

He didn't even know
the man, Mr. Holmes.

But you did, Mrs. McFarlane.

Years ago.
I'd forgotten that he ever existed.

I tried to forget.

It's impossible to quite forget
a man like Jonas Oldacre.

Yes, I knew him well.

At one time, we were
engaged to be married.

Thank heaven I had the sense to
turn away from him and marry a better,

if poorer, man.

Oh, please.

Your husband died recently?

He was a kind man, gentle man.

He was everything
Jonas Oldacre was not.

And yet, at one time,
you were prepared to marry him?

I said that I knew him well

but the more I knew of him,
the more I came to realize

I knew him not at all.

He would change suddenly,

what I saw frighted me.

There was a dark side to
his character, Mr. Holmes.

A desire to cause pain.

My own photograph.

It was my first present to him.

Good heavens!

That was how it was returned to me
on my wedding day.

Together with a vile note urging
a curse upon my house and-

saying he'd never forgive me.

And yet, he does seem
to have forgiven you-

after all, to leave his
entire estate to your son.

Neither my son nor I want anything
from that wicked man, dead or alive.

Mrs. McFarlane,

the fact remains that
the Will was made.

I simply can't understand it.

Why?

Had you ever spoken of Oldacre
to your son? I mean,

perhaps told him
what you've just told me now?

No, never.

Never?

He found the photograph.

My husband tried to make light of it,
but he insisted.

My husband told him something
of the truth,

that's all.

And the boy was disturbed?

He was upset, naturally.

You see, Mrs. McFarlane,
what the police might say is,

that he had heard of
Oldacre's behavior toward you.

It would pre-dispose him
toward hatred and violence.

And so that case against him
would be considerably strengthened.

No.

There is a God in heaven, Mr. Holmes,

and that same God who's punished that
wicked man will show in his own good time,

my son's hands are
guiltless of his blood.

Wait here, please.

Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.
We're just clearing up.

The Will as promised.

Look.

Buttons!

Trouser buttons.

No doubt, you've brought
your glass with you?

The name is Hiams. According to
Mrs. Lexington, the housekeeper,

Hiams, is the name of
Mr. Oldacre's tailor.

Presumably, the organic remains
have been removed to the laboratory?

They have, Doctor, though they'll
be of little use, I suspect.

The poor devil was no
more than bone and cinder.

How very convenient
for the murderer.

Not, I might venture, for Mr. Oldacre.

Nevertheless, Inspector,
bones cinder.

Thank heavens, he was
wearing his trousers.

This stick belongs to the accused,
and he's never denied it.

He says that he could not find it
when he came to leave the house.

Says, Mr. Holmes, says.

My experts made out footmarks
of both men on the carpet.

And too much subsequent traffic to make
any examination on my part worthwhile.

Two sets of footmarks, Mr. Holmes.
None of any third person.

Another trick for your side.

I suppose all these
papers are from the safe?

Correct.

And nothing, absolutely nothing,
has been removed?

Nothing whatsoever.

We have opened one or two, as
you can see, to check the contents.

May I check them?

By all means.

I, myself, have business at The Yard.

I would like to see the housekeeper,
what is her name, Mrs. Lexington?

She'll add nothing more
to what you already know.

Nevertheless.

I'll send her in.

Could it be that for once Lestrade
is on the right track?

All my instincts are one way,
and all the facts are the other.

You wish to see me, sir?

Yes Mrs. Lexington, this is my friend
and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Do sit down.

I'll stand, if I may.

This room has no comfort for me.

You let young Mr. McFarlane
into this house at 9:30?

Yes. I wish that my hand had
withered before I'd done so.

And you retired to bed at?

20 minutes past 11:00.

20 minutes past 11:00.

And you heard nothing?

My room is at
the far end of the house.

I heard nothing until
the fire alarm sounded.

It was then, only then, that I realized
my poor master had been murdered.

Mrs. Lexington, to your knowledge,

did your master have any enemies?

Every man has his enemies.

And a businessman like Mr. Oldacre,
more than most, perhaps?

He was a well-respected gentleman
who kept himself very much to himself.

Do you know anything
about these papers?

I know nothing of Mr. Oldacre's
private affairs.

The buttons that the police
found in the fire?

My master had three suits
made by Mr. Hiams-

two are still in that wardrobe there,
and the third he was wearing that night.

Thank you, Mrs. Lexington,
you have been most cooperative.

What do you make of her?

Tight as wax, if you ask me, but then,
perhaps that's her usual manner?

It's all wrong, I feel it in my bones.
Something-

something has not come out,
and that woman knows it.

Holmes, would you like me
to have a look at these papers?

Well, a man's bank account can tell us
as much as his diary.

Correct.

Thank you, Watson.

It's all right Constable,
I'm just stretching my legs.

I'll watch them.

Ah, Constable.

Are you a local man?

Born and bread, sir,
not a half-mile from here.

Excellent

Then perhaps you can offer
me some local knowledge?

I'll do my best, sir,
I'll most certainly do my best.

Holmes!

Lestrade did say that no
documents had been removed?

Yes.

That's what I thought.

You've found something?

No, it's what I haven't
found that interests me.

There are certain cross-references
to various deeds, valuable deeds,

none of which I can find.

But one thing is clear.

Oldacre was hardly in the affluent
circumstances we have been led to believe.

His bank account was
practically empty,

largely because he had made
several large payments

in the past year
to a certain Mr. Cornelius.

Young McFarlane would
have inherited nothing.

This is of interest.

Why should a retired builder have such
large transactions with a Mr. Cornelius?

Well, let's take our cab, and see what
we can find out from his city bank.

You coming?

I'll stay here for awhile.

Norwood Station.

So, you're not going back to London
with your friend, then?

No, not yet, anyway. I do hope
my presence doesn't inconvenience you.

By the way, I should warn you, I

found an undesirable lurking about by the
gates. I saw him on...

An undesirable...

A tramp, Mrs. Lexington,
a gentlemen of the road.

He will get nothing here.

Ah, you don't believe in supporting
our less fortunate brethren?

I work, so can they.

Quite so.

I'm on my way to Croxton.

I've done enough walking,
I have...

To all kinds of places. I'll stay put.

I used to meet a friend of mine here.

Oh, you might know him,
he's a seafaring man.

Aha, I know him.

Shared my billet for the
last four nights, he does.

And off he goes, without even a word.

You take my tip. Stay clear of him.

He's, he's a liar.

He didn't strike me as such.

He goes up to that
big house, he does.

He comes back here and tells some yarn
about him putting out with old mans,

and telling him to come back tomorrow
and they'll give him some

grub and some cast-offs for him.

Well, how is that lying?

Because, my friend.

I already paid my call.

I nearly got my lord on my back
for my insolence-

insolence.

Perhaps he told you a pleasing tale.

Are you saying, that a drunken sailor
has more to offer

than a Sergeant in the 22nd?

He's a liar.

He says, "Whatever I get,"
he says,

"I'll share with you, shipmate,"
he says.

Off he goes.

Not a sight of him since.

Holmes,

you must permit yourself some food.
You must eat.

A present, I cannot afford energy
and nerve force for digestion.

Well, you must if you
intend to pursue this case.

I feel, my dear fellow, that our case
will end ingloriously

by Lestrade hanging our client.

Which will certainly be a
triumph for Scotland Yard.

There's a telegram.

"Important fresh evidence at hand,
McFarlane's guilt definitely established,"

"advise you to abandon case,
Lestrade."

It is Lestrade's little
cock-a-doodle of victory.

Let's have some breakfast.

And then go out together
and see what we can do.

I feel as if I shall need your company
and moral support today.

Ah, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

I think you will acknowledge that we're
just a little in front of you this time.

Step this way, if you
please, gentlemen,

and I'm sure I can convince you
that it was

John McFarlane
who committed this crime.

I don't like being wrong any
more than the rest of us do.

Still, a man can't always expect
to have it his own way,

can he Dr. Watson?

This is where the housekeeper left
McFarlane's hat and stick,

and this is also where he would
have come to collect his hat

after the crime was committed.

Now, look at this.

A thumb mark.

So I observe.

A thumb mark in blood.

You are aware that no two
thumb marks are alike?

I have heard something of the kind.

Identical. And that was taken from
McFarlane this morning.

Definitely the same thumb mark.

And that is final.

Quite final.

Who made this discovery?

It was Mrs. Lexington here who drew
my Constable's attention to it.

And, I suppose, there is no doubt
that the mark was there yesterday?

Well, of course McFarlane could have crept
out of jail in the middle of the night

just to strengthen the
evidence against himself.

Have you any objection
if I take a stroll upstairs?

No, none at all.

There's nothing up there, though.

I'm sorry things look so bad, Holmes.

But there is a serious
flaw in this new evidence.

What's that?

That thumb print was not there
when I examined the hall yesterday.

Inspector Lestrade,

I cannot help thinking your
evidence is incomplete.

What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?

Merely that there is an important witness
that you have not yet seen.

You can produce this
witness, can you?

I think I can.

Well then, do so.

I'll do my best.

How many Constables have you?

Three within call.

Excellent

I assume that they are able-bodied,
large men with powerful voices?

No doubt that they are, yeah.

Ah, in the outhouse,
there is a quantity of straw.

I would like two bundles brought in.

Straw?

And two buckets of water.

Water?

Ask them to bring it to the top landing.

Straw, into the fireplace,
a little bit in front.

Two buckets of water to that side,
Constable.

Mr. Holmes! I don't know whether
you're playing a game with us, but

surely tell us without
all this tom-foolery.

I can assure you, Lestrade, I have an
excellent reason for everything that I do.

Watson, would you put
a match to that straw?

And Constable,
will you sprinkle it with water?

Now,

we must see if we can find
this witness for you, Lestrade.

Gentlemen,

would you please join me and we'll call
a fire? One, two three... FIRE!

We can do better than that.
Full voice, and together.

FIRE!

Good heavens.

Capital.

Constable, a bucket of
water on that straw.

Lestrade, allow me to present you
with your missing principal witness,

Mr. Jonas Oldacre.

What's this then?

What have you been
doing all this time?

I've done no harm.

No harm! You've only done your best
to get an innocent man hanged.

If it wasn't for this gentleman
standing here,

I'm not sure you wouldn't
have succeeded.

Take him!

Let us see
where this rat has been lurking.

Now you see the advantage of
being a builder, he was able to

fix up his own little hiding place
without any confederate,

save for that precious
housekeeper of his,

whom I should lose no time in
adding to your bag, Inspector.

And these are the missing
papers, no doubt?

No doubt whatsoever.

Constable, find the housekeeper.

How did you know about
that place, Mr. Holmes?

When I compared the proportions of this
room with those of the room below,

I deduced that
this fireplace wall was false.

Oldacre clearly had
a great deal of nerve,

but little enough I've found,
to like quiet before an alarm of fire.

How in the world did you know
that he was in the house at all?

The thumb mark, Lestrade.

When I examined the hall yesterday,
it was clear.

Therefore, it must have been
put there during the night.

But how?

After McFarlane had examined the papers
that night, he resealed them.

To do so, he used his
thumb upon the wax.

Brooding in that den of his,
it suddenly struck Oldacre

what use he could make
of that thumbprint.

Smearing the wax with a little blood,

he made what appeared to be absolutely
damning evidence against McFarlane.

But what was the object
of his deception?

Ah, well, you see Inspector,

in order to swindle his creditors,
who were pressing him

Oldacre emptied his bank account

by paying out several large sums
to a certain Mr. Cornelius.

Now, I have no doubt that

Messers Oldacre and Cornelius
are one and the same person,

the object being to change his name,
draw on the money, and then vanish.

We see before us a very deep,
malicious and vindictive man.

Did you know that he was once
refused by McFarlane's mother?

All his life,
he has longed for vengeance.

If he could give the impression
that he was murdered

by the only child of his former
sweetheart, what more better revenge?

I would never have allowed any real harm
to befall poor Mr. McFarlane, I assure you.

That's for the jury to decide.

You're charging me? For a joke?
It's nothing more than a practical joke.

It's nothing less than murder-

the body in the fire.

But whose body was it?

And old sailor, Lestrade,
who had fallen upon hard times.

When I examined the
ashes of that fire,

I discovered that your
experts had missed this.

It is a tooth of the great white shark,

and you see that it has
been lightly carved.

It is typical of the work
carried out by seamen.

Well, this isn't evidence enough
to show who died in the fire.

I know for certain that on Monday,
the day before the murder,

a tramp called at this house.

Yet, when I questioned
the housekeeper,

she assured me that no such tramp
would ever be welcome.

Not only was his reception
welcoming

but the man received
some of Oldacre's clothing.

Yesterday, near the front gate,
I found the calling card that he left,

a coded sign advising his fellow
travelers of a charitable welcome.

And last night, with the help of
your local Constable,

I talked to one of
these fellow travelers,

who said that the unfortunate seaman
had been asked to

call back the following day with
the assurance of further hospitality.

And so, the next morning,
wearing his new clothes.

Or at least his new
trousers, he returned-

and was never seen again.

You've saved an innocent
man's life, Mr. Holmes.

You've also saved me
some embarrassment.

Ah, my good chap!

You will find that your reputation
has been enormously enhanced.

Just make a few alterations to
that report which you are writing,

and they will understand
how hard it is

to throw dust in the eyes of
Inspector Lestrade.

You don't want your name to appear?

Not at all.

His work is its own reward.

I'll see you hang for this!

That privilege must surely be mine.