The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1986–1988): Season 1, Episode 7 - The Six Napoleons - full transcript

Whore! You let him destroy
our our life and honor.

You are worse than a whore.

You dare to open your mouth and
talk about your shame with pride.

I love him with all my heart.

Your mouth is digusting.

Let me go, and I will
be with him this moment

You are a filthy whore!

My life belongs to him.
I love him.

- I'm going to kill him!
- No

Pietro!
Stop it!

She is not ashamed.
She is a whore.



My sister is worse than a whore!

She is an embarrassment
to the family and me.

That bastard violated her
honour and the honor our family.

Don't worry. I will bring him death death,
and avenge the honour of the Venucci

Whore!

No!, no!
Pietro!

- Stop!
- Lucrezia!

Come here.

Whore!

Bepo!
Bepo!

Bastard, you betrayed my sister,
and made her a whore,

You insulted my family.

I want what is ours.
I want what is mine.

Come face me, you bastard.



- What are you doing, Bepo?
- Come here!

What are you doing down there, Bepo?

You bastard, traitor!
You will pay dearly!

Why?

You pig!

- Stand back!
- We have him at last.

Assassin.

Anything remarkable
on hand, Lestrade?

No.

Nothing in particular.

Then tell us about it.

Now you've come to
mention it, Mr. Holmes.

There's no denying
there is something on my mind.

It first came to my
notice four days ago.

A certain Morse Hudson has a shop
for the sale of pictures and statues

in Kennington Road.

But what happened last night was
more serious and also more singular.

Burglary.

Exactly.

A house of a Doctor Barnicot
was broken into.

Now this bust was one of a pair
purchased from Morse Hudson

by Doctor Barnicot.

He had put it in his house.

The other, he put two
miles away in his surgery.

Later that same night.

This is certainly very novel.

Yes, I thought it would please you.

Though in my opinion, it comes more
into Doctor Watson's line than ours.

Disease?

I should say madness.

Queer sort of madness, too.

You wouldn't think there
was anybody living

nowadays, would you, have such
a hatred for Napoleon Bonaparte.

Actually there are no limits
to the possibilities of monomania.

You see, there is the condition

that the modern French psychologists
have called an "idee fixe".

If someone became obsessed, with, say

an injustice committed to an
ancestor during the Napoleonic wars,

he might form an "idee fixe"
and under its influence,

he might be capable of
any fantastic outrage.

My dear Watson, that won't do.

How do you explain it then?

I don't attempt to do so.

Well, you see?

I would simply observe

that there's a certain method in
this gentleman's eccentric madness.

I mean, for example,
in Dr. Barnicot's house,

where a sound might have
aroused the sleeping family,

the bust was taken outside
before being broken,

whereas in his surgery, where
there was less danger of alarm,

it was smashed where it stood.

I only mentioned it
because you usually have a taste

for all that is out of the common,
no matter how trivial.

No, I dare call nothing
trivial, Lestrade.

Some of my most classic cases have
had the least promising commencement.

Yeah, that dreadful business
of the Abernetty family.

I hardly call the dismemberment
of an entire family trivial.

Well Watson, would you be
so kind as to explain?

What?

Well the point is that it
only came to Holmes' notice,

because the depths which the parsley
had sunk into the butter on a hot day.

So you see I cannot afford to smile
at your three busts, Lestrade.

However, I would be obliged
if you would keep me informed

as to developments.

Listen to this Holmes, "Come instantly,
1-3-1 Pitt Street, Kensington, Lestrade."

What's it about?

Well it could be anything but I suspect
it's a sequel to his story of last night.

You know, my "idee fixe".
Finish your coffee.

There's a cab at the door.

Two minutes.

It's attempted murder at least.

Nothing less will hold
the London message boy.

There's a deed of violence in that
young fellow's round shoulders

and out-stretched neck.

Well, Lestrade will soon tell us.

Look at this, Watson.

The bottom steps swilled down
and the others dry.

- Footstep's enough, anyhow.
- Yes, but whose?

It's the Napoleon bust
business again, gentlemen.

They smashed another?

I'm afraid the affair
has taken a graver turn.

This way.

Mr. Harker, allow me to present,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.

Mr. Horace Harker, of the
Central Press Syndicate.

Good of you to come, gentlemen.

Please forgive my agitation.

No apology necessary, Mr. Harker.

A body on one's front doorstep
is always unsettling.

You've told him, then?

Not a word.

Now, tell us exactly what occurred.

It's an extraordinary thing.

All my life, I've been
collecting other people's news,

and now I have a real
life story of my own,

and I can't put two words together.

If I had been a journalist
and walked in through that door,

I would have interviewed myself

and had two columns in
every London newspaper.

And here I am giving away
valuable copy by telling my story

over and over again
to a string of different people.

However, I've heard of
your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

So if you could explain
this queer business

I'd be more than paid for my
trouble in telling you my story.

A great deal of my journalistic work
is done at night in my den,

in that room adjacent to this one.

At some time, in the small
hours of this morning.

I shall live that moment
over and over again in my dreams.

Do we know who the
murdered man was?

Not yet. But you can see the body
at the mortuary, if you wish.

Where did you purchase
your bust, Mr. Harker?

From Mr. Hudson of Kennington Road.

Do we know what became of it?

The officer at the door tells me
it's been found in the front garden

of an empty house
on Campden House Road.

I was just going round to
see it. Will you come?

In a moment, Lestrade.

Well, the intruder either had very
long legs or was a most active man,

with that area beneath, it was no
mean feat to climb up to this ledge

let alone, to open the window.

Mr. Harker, will you come with us
to see the remains of your bust?

I must make something of it,

although I have no doubt
that every newspaper in London

will be on the streets with a full
and detailed account.

Just my luck.

Do you remember when the stand
fell down at the Doncaster Races?

I was the only journalist in that stand,
and my journal was the only one

that didn't have a published account
because I was too shaken to write a word.

Now, I should be too late
with a murder on my own doorstep.

Well?

We have a long way to go
but there is one suggestive fact.

He didn't smash this in the house
or immediately outside it.

Well, perhaps he was so
rattled and bustled

by meeting this other fellow that
he hardly knew what he was doing.

That's likely enough.

But why did he choose to destroy it
outside this particular house?

It's empty. So he knew
he wouldn't be disturbed.

Yes, but there's another
empty house

further up the street
he must have passed.

Why not destroy it there?

The lamp.

By Jove, you're right.

What are we to make of that?

Holmes?

Remember it., docket it.

We may come on something later,
which will bear upon it.

Meanwhile, before we
go our separate ways,

I suggest we make one
last concerted visit.

- Where to?
- The morgue.

They made nothing of
his identity up to now.

He was poorly dressed but doesn't
seem to have been a laborer.

Whoever's responsible did a
nasty job on the fellow's throat.

Oh, that was the murder
weapon, had a serrated blade.

But whether it belonged to the murderer
or the dead man we don't yet know.

Anything in his pockets
to help identify him?

Precious little.

If it might interest you, Mr. Holmes.

Forgive me, Lestrade,
I was just contemplating

the one mystery that
not even I can solve.

Death itself. Pray continue.

As you can see,
he carried very little.

An apple, some string,
a shilling map of London,

and a photograph.

Or a part of one - it's torn.

Look.

Ugly looking devil,

positively Simian.

What steps do you
propose next, Lestrade?

Well, the most practical
way of getting at it,

in my opinion, is to
identify the dead man.

Once we know who he is
and who his associates are,

we should have a good
start in learning

who killed him on the doorstep
of Mr. Horace Harker.

Don't you think so, Mr. Holmes?

No doubt. It is not the way
that I would conduct the case.

Oh what would you do?

Oh, don't let me
influence you, Lestrade.

I suggest that you follow
your line of inquiry, and I, mine.

And we can compare notes,
and each supplement the other.

But if you are returning
to Pitt Street,

I would be grateful if
you would tell Mr. Harker

that I have quite made up my mind

in this matter.

And so there was a dangerous
and homicidal lunatic

with Napoleonic delusions
at his house last night.

It will help him in his article.

You don't seriously
believe that, Holmes?

Don't I? Well, perhaps not.

I'm sure it will please
Mr. Horace Harker

and the subscribers to
the Central Press Agency.

I would be grateful, Lestrade,

if you could make it convenient
to come around to Baker Street

at six o'clock this evening.

Until then,
I would like to keep this photograph

found in the dead man's pocket.

Oh, Mr. Holmes that
might be a vital clue.

I trust it is, otherwise
it's of no interest to me.

Good luck, Lestrade.

What we pay our taxes for,
I don't know,

when any ruffian can walk in and
break one's goods under one's nose.

A superb bit of
craftsmanship it was, too,

taken from a marble copy of
the Emperor's head by Devins.

Are you familiar, by any chance,
with that great artists oeuvre.

Yes, indeed.
Speaking of familiarly,

do you recognize the
man in this photograph?

Man in the photograph?
Yes, indeed, I do, Mr. Holmes.

The name's Beppo.

Beppo?

Yes, he was a sort of
Italian piecework man,

who made himself useful
here in the shop.

Oh, he could carve a bit,
and frame, and guild.

I took him on about ten days ago,

but he only stayed a week
and then just disappeared.

Didn't even collect his wages.

Perhaps he was responsible
for the breakages.

Responsible for the breakages?
Huh, responsible for the breakages?

My dear sir, this is an
international conspiracy.

A Nihilist plot.
Red Republicans, I call them.

Yes. No one but an Anarchist
would go about breaking statues.

Did they break every
one that you sold?

Break every one I sold?
Well, hardly that.

Just the two bought by a local doctor
and the one left here in my shop.

If anything happened to the
other three, I know nothing of it.

Three? So there was
six to begin with?

Six to begin with?
Yes, yes. A batch of six.

I ordered them especially
from Gelder & Company of Stepney.

They do excellent molding work.

Do you happen to know the names
and addresses of the other customers?

My ledgers, Mr. Holmes, are
confidential.

Mr. Hudson,

if your theory's correct, ought
we to warn these people of this,

this most dangerous plot?

And who better to do that
than Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Yes, quite right. Quite right, sir

Yes, the country slumbers
but we shall remain vigilant.

Follow me, sir.

Here we are. Mr. Josiah
Brown of Chiswick,

and Mrs. Sandeford of Reading.

Mrs.?

Mr. Hudson.

Did your two busts differ
in anyway from the other four?

Differ from the other four?
No, no. They were all identical

and all with a beautiful
decoration, which I ordered especially.

Apart from the decoration, were your
six busts the same as all the others?

The same as all the others?
Well, I suppose so.

But you'd have to apply direct to
Gelder & Company to find that out,

In person.

Excellent idea.

Gentlemen? Gentlemen?
When you meet the manager

would you be good enough
to warn him of the conspiracy?

With all the busts they have
on the premises,

the Red Republicans
could have a field day.

Normally we sell the
bust without decoration,

but Mr. Hudson ordered that
the whole uniform be painted.

It was extra detail and made it
a very special, it's sure.

In times of the construction,
however, there is no reason

why the six Napoleons
we sold to him

should be different from
hundreds of others.

You see, the two molds are put
together and filled with plaster

to make the complete bust.

Are they solid?

Solid? Yes, of course.
Naturally.

Then, they are placed in a special
room to dry and afterwards stored.

Their wholesale price is six shillings
but we would get twelve or more.

I can think of no reason that
someone should wish to destroy them.

Or murder for them.

Murder?

So,

your interest in the molding
process had ulterior motives?

Herr Mendelstam, I wonder if you happen to
recognize the man in this photograph?

The rascal.

Yes, indeed. I know him very well.

This has always been a
respectable establishment

and the only time we ever had the
police in here was over this fellow.

About a year ago, he knifed
another Italian in the street

and ran in here with
the police on his heels.

Was his name Beppo, by any chance?

Beppo? Yes!

His second name, I never knew.

Served me right for employing
a man with such a face.

But he was a good workman,
one of the best.

Do you happen to remember
exactly when he was arrested?

I could check the pay list.

According to Morse Hudson's records,

you sold him six Napoleon's
on June the third of last year.

Now, let me see. That is correct.

And Beppo, last collected his wages
on May the twentieth of that same year.

Then he must have been arrested
sometime the following week.

Well, no doubt the police
have the exact details.

The young Italian survived, so Beppo
only went to prison for one year.

We have a cousin of
his work in here.

Perhaps you would wish
to speak with him?

No.

Not a word to the cousin, I beg of you.
The matter is very important.

And the further I go with it
the more important it seems.

Ah so, yeah, I merely thought his cousin
might know when Beppo is to be released.

Mendelstam,

if my surmises are correct,

our friend Beppo has been out
of jail for at least eleven days.

Hey, Watson.

Harker has baited the traps.

What do you mean?

The press is a very valuable
institution if one knows how to use it.

Read all about it.

Very cunning, Holmes.

Thank you, Watson.

Lestrade!

Mr. Holmes. Doctor.

Please sit down.

Thank you.

Well, uh...

What luck, Mr. Holmes?

We've had a very busy day.
Not entirely wasted.

I can trace each of the busts
now from the beginning.

The busts!

Well of course, you have your
own methods, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Not for me to say
a word against them,

but I think I've done a
better day's work than you.

I've identified the dead man.

Splendid! Who is it?

Pietro Venucci, son of a
respectable Italian tradesman

and involved with a
secret political society.

Red Anarchist?

Oh you've been talking to
Morse Hudson, haven't you?

Do go on, Lestrade.

I refer, of course, to the Mafia,

which, as you may know, enforces
its decrees by assassination.

Obviously our murderer broke
the rules in some fashion

and Pietro is put on his track.

Possibly with that photograph
to aid identification,

they meet but Pietro receives
his own death wound in the scuffle.

Excellent, Lestrade, but
I don't-

quite follow your explanation
of the destruction of the busts.

Oh, the busts!

You can never get those busts out
of your head. The busts are nothing.

Petty larceny, six months
at most. No, no, no.

It's murder we're really investigating.

And I tell you,

I'm gathering all the
threads into my hand.

And the next stage?

Ah well now,

we have an inspector who's made a
specialty out of the Italian quarter.

I shall go down there with him, find the
man in that photograph you're carrying,

arrest him for murder.

What do you say, Mr. Holmes?

Will you come with us?

I think not.

I fancy Chiswick as the address
most likely to find him.

Chiswick?

If you and some of your men will
come with us to Chiswick tonight,

I will go to the Italian
quarter with you tomorrow

and there will be no
harm in the delay.

I suggest you dine with us, and
then you're welcome to the sofa.

A few hours sleep
will do us all good.

I don't intend to leave
the house before eleven.

It is unlikely that we shall
be home before morning.

But Mr. Holmes...

In the meantime,

I have a letter to send
by Express Messenger.

Mrs. Hudson? Mrs. Hudson?

Chiswick?

No!

These are not things for women.

He dishonored the family,

and I have to do it myself.

I am the head of the family.

It is my duty.

Father!

Eleven o'clock!
Gentlemen, on your feet.

Come along, Lestrade.

Watson, I think you've been
overgenerous with the port.

You've been frugal enough
with your information.

Ah that will be our four-wheeler.

Don't forget the revolver,
Watson, and bring the rugs.

This outing wouldn't be inspired
by your "id fixe", would it?

"Idee fixe".

Yes. The plaster bust.

I have great hopes, Lestrade.

In fact, I bet it's exactly two-to-one
that if you come with us tonight

you'll have the murderer in
custody before the sun rises.

I'm not a betting man, Mr. Holmes.

Then you have nothing
to lose by it, do you?

Except a good nights' sleep.

Watson, if you've caught
a cold it's your fault.

You left the rugs behind.

Sorry, Holmes.

Is that two o'clock?

I don't suppose we can smoke, can we?

Nope.

Thought as much.

Are your men in position?

Oh, yes.

Have a humbug, Lestrade?

Watson,

this is no time for humbugs.

Look!

Is that who you expected?

His name's Beppo.

Good name for a monkey.

He'll leave by the back door.

How do you know that?

Because all the other doors are locked.

Oh dear, it's smashed.

Mr. Josiah Brown, I presume?

Yes, sir. And you, no doubt,
are Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

I had the note you sent
by the express messenger

and I did exactly as you told me.

Following your instructions,
we locked every door,

so as to lead him into the back.

And I'm very glad to
see you have the rascal.

Now I hope, gentlemen, you will come
and partake in some refreshment.

Thank you, Mr. Brown.
The hour is rather late.

Good night.

Oh, good night.

Come, Watson, we have work to do.

Work? What work?

Lestrade, if you will come around to
Baker Street tonight at six o'clock

I hope to be able to show you
that you still have not grasped

the full meaning of this business.

Oh, I think you'll find
my theory of the Mafia

will work out all right, Mr. Holmes.

Good night, Lestrade.

Come along, now.

Baker Street, please.

And now, Watson,

I commend to you the universal
answer to almost all the problems.

What's that, Holmes?

Sleep.

Good morning.

- It is important.
- Here you go, Mr. Holmes.

Thank you, sir.

Good morning, Watson.

And since the manager
of Gelder & Company

was mainly responsible for
Beppo's initial arrest,

we see the breaking of the busts
as a pathetic attempt to revenge himself.

And it was possibly the
senseless acts of violence,

which transgressed the
Mafia's code of behavior

and lead to the murder
of young Venucci.

There, I think that takes care of
those details you mentioned last night.

Don't you, Mr. Holmes?

Holmes!

Yes, Watson.

Well, what do you think
of Lestrade's theories?

I'm sure that they are of the
greatest interest but I regret to say

I've not listened to a word of them.
Forgive my inattention, Lestrade,

I had a rather late night.

Look, what do you think I had?

Come in.

Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes here?

I fear I am a little late
but the trains were very awkward.

No matter, no matter.
Have you brought the item?

Oh, these are my
friends and colleagues,

Doctor Watson and Inspector
Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

You may speak freely
in front of them.

Gentlemen, you said in your telegram
that Mr. Hudson had given you my address.

Mr. Sandeford of Reading.

The same, sir. How do you do?

It's those busts again.

Correct, Lestrade.

Did he also tell you just
how much my wife paid for it?

No, he did not.

Well sir, I am an honest man
and not a very rich one,

and she only gave fifteen shillings for
it and I think you ought to know that

before I take the ten pounds from you
that you offered in your telegraph.

Oh your scruple does you much
honor, Mr. Sandeford,

but I have stated my price
and I shall stick to it.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes, that's very
handsome of you. Your bust, sir.

You know my wife has
always maintained,

there is a marked resemblance
between myself and the Emperor.

I can't say I see it myself.

Sixth Napoleon.

I contacted Mrs. Sandeford
by telegram this morning.

Now,

if you will sign this paper
in front of witnesses,

it is simply to say that you
transferred every possible rights

that you would ever
have in the bust to me.

I'd be happy to, Mr. Holmes,
happy, happy, happy.

I am and a methodical man
one never knows

what turn of events my take afterwards.
Here is your ten-pound note, sir.

Good evening, Mr. Sandeford.

Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes.
It's good evening, gentlemen.

Okey. And it's very, very kind
of you and thank you so much...

Now gentlemen, if you will
give me your undivided attention.

Gentlemen, allow me to
introduce you to one of

the most precious objects
in the world.

The famous black pearl of the Borgias!

Bravo, Holmes, bravo!

Oh, your legerdemain
rivals that Maskelyne himself?

This surpasses it.

The Borgias pearl's been
missing since it disappeared

from the Prince of Colonna's
bedroom in that Dacre Hotel,

over a year ago.

As you may remember, Lestrade, I was
consulted upon the case at the time.

Observe and learn.

The moment the name Venucci
surfaced to this case,

I immediately became intrigued.

The Princess of Colonna's maid, for
some time, had been one,

Lucrezia Venucci.
Suspicion fell on her.

And it was proved that she
had a brother in London

but we failed to trace any
connection between them.

Beppo was the connection.

He had been courting Lucrezia Venucci

for some time.

Where did you get that?

Papa Venucci.

Oh, I see.

When the Venucci family
planned to steal the black pearl,

they used Beppo as a go between
for Lucrezia and her brother.

Beppo gleaned enough information
to execute the robber himself

and make off with the pearl.

Pietro Venucci, the brother,

caught up with him
outside Gelder's workshop,

Beppo stabbed him he then
fled into the warehouse

and took refuge in the drying room.

He knew he only had moments
in which to conceal the pearl,

which would otherwise be found
on him when he was searched.

Among all the plaster
casts drying that clay,

he made for the batch of six

that had been earmarked
for Morse Hudson

and the base of one
of them was still soft.

It was an admirable hiding place.

As soon as Beppo got out of prison,

he managed to find employment
with Mr. Morse Hudson,

and set about tracking
the six Napoleons down.

He found and destroyed
three of them.

But the night he located Harker's,

Pietro Venucci, intent on vengeance,
accosted him and this time

Beppo slit his throat.

With only two busts left, it was likely
he would try the London one first.

Hence our visit to Chiswick.

Exactly, Watson.

That left only the Reading bust.

I bought it in your
presence from the owner

and there it lies.

Well, Mr. Holmes.

I've seen you handle a
good many cases in my time,

but I don't know that I ever knew
a more workman-like one than this.

We're not jealous of you,
you know, at Scotland Yard.

No, sir, we're proud of you.

If you come down tomorrow there's
not a man from the oldest inspector

to the youngest constable

who wouldn't be glad
to shake you by the hand.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Would you get down the Conk-Singleton
forgery case, please Watson?

Goodbye, Lestrade.

And if any little
problem comes your way,

I shall be happy, if I can, to give you
a hint or two as to its solution.

It is over, Lucrezia.