The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1986–1988): Season 2, Episode 2 - Silver Blaze - full transcript

It's no good. I shall have to go.

Go? Go where?

King's Pyland.

Last evening Inspector Gregory
of the Devonshire Constabulary

arrested well known racing
personality Fitzroy Simpson

and charged him with the murder
of trainer, John Straker...

Oh, come in.

Two more telegrams, Mr. Holmes.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

You've been bombarded with these
the last couple of days.

Another one from Inspector Gregory.



A note from Colonel Ross.

Awe, that's the horse's owner.

Thank you my dear.

Watson,

I had made a blunder,

which I am afraid is a
more common occurrence

than anyone would think who only
knew me through your memoirs.

But the fact is that
I could not believe

that so a remarkable a horse
as Silver Blaze could disappear,

especially in the seclusion of
somewhere like Dartmoor.

From hour to hour I expect to
hear that the abductor

was the murderer of John Straker
and the horse had been found

but that doesn't seem to
be the case.

I should be happy to go with you.



No, Tavistock.

If I should not be in the way.

Oh my dear Watson,

you would confer a great
favour upon me by coming.

I'm sure your time
will not be misspent.

The case promises to
be absolutely unique.

We can just catch our
train from Paddington.

Oh Watson, would you be so kind
as to bring your field glasses?

Mrs. Hudson, were off to Dartmoor.

Tickets please.

Thank you, Inspector.

Thank you.

Watson, we're going well.

Our speed at present is
fifty-three and half miles an hour.

I've not observed the
quarter mile post.

Nor have I.

But the telegraphed posts
on this line are sixty yards apart.

The calculation is a simple one.

Has that remarkably,
colored, sporting paper

anything to say on the
subject of our horse?

What?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

Here we are.

Silver Blaze.
Silver Blaze is from Isonomy stock.

Isonomy...

And holds as brilliant a record
as his famous ancestor.

He's now in his fifth year

and has brought in turn
each of the prize of the turf

to Colonel Ross his
fortunate owner.

At the time of the catastrophe

he was first favored
for the Wessex Cup.

The odds quoted being
two to one against.

He's always been a prime favorite
of the racing public

and has never yet
disappointed them.

In spite of the unfavorable prize, a great
deal of money has been placed upon him

so it is obvious, therefore,
that there are

many people with the strongest
interest in preventing Silver Blaze

from being there at
the fall of the flag.

All right, Baynes, will you stop here
please, cause this is a rather good view.

Now that's King's Pyland
over there Mr. Holmes.

You know my training stable
where the missing horse was kept.

What exactly does your establishment
consist of, Colonel Ross?

Well, there's the trainer's house,

where poor Straker lived with
his wife and a maidservant.

How long had he been with you sir?

Oh, five years as jockey

until he got too heavy
for the weighing chair.

Then seven years as my trainer.

Yes, he was a first class man.

And I presume the stables
are beyond?

Yes, yes not a big yard,
it's a good one.

My thought is quality not quantity.

As anyone connected with the turf
will tell you, Mr. Holmes.

Yes, thank you, Inspector.
You see,

at the moment I've only five
horses in the yard.

I see you have two of them entered
for the Wessex Cup, Colonel Ross.

That's right, yes.
Yes, Silver Blaze and Bayard.

But between us Bayard is
intended for a pacemaker.

Well with such valuable
animals under his charge,

I imagine your trainer Mr. Straker
must have taken some precautions.

Oh yes indeed.

Three stable lads
lived with the horses

and after dark one of the lads
was always on duty in the stables

while the other two
sleep above in loft.

Is that another training
stable over there?

Yes, that's Mapleton.

Lord Backwater's yard.

Lord Backwater?
Lord Backwater owns Desberly,

second favorite
for the Wessex Cup.

This is not a bad horse.
Not in the same class as Silver Blaze.

Fellow called, Silas Brown,

trains for Backwater,
I can't stick the fellow himself.

Nor could Straker come to that.

There's a natural rivalry I presume.

Rather more than that.

- Shall we drive on?
- Yes, indeed.

All right, Baynes.

Inspector Gregory,

are there any further developments
as to the whereabouts of the horse?

Nothing at all.

We have made very little progress
in that direction.

I can't imagine how a
horse like Silver Blaze

could go missing for so
long in a place like this.

Nor can I.

I must tell you Mr. Holmes,
that at first I was not at all taken

with Inspector Gregory's suggestion that
you should be asked to come down here.

I don't like amateurs, you see?

But you did send me
a telegram, Colonel.

Well no one else seems to
be able to find my horse.

If you ask me it's these damn gypsies
wandering all over the moor.

It's a perfect scandal,
I've said so for years.

My men have seen every group
of gypsies on Dartmoor

in the last two days, Colonel.

And searched every stable yard,
quarry and cave in south Devon.

It's an absolute mystery.

I expect a miracle
from you, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector Gregory,
my friends at Scotland Yard tell me

that you're rapidly making
a reputation for yourself

in the English detective service.

I'm a keen student
of your methods too, Mr. Holmes.

I have the two principal
witnesses waiting for you.

Thank you.

In here, Mr. Holmes.

Who are they?

Edith Baxter, the maid
and Hunter, the stable boy

who was on duty on Monday night.

It was just a few minutes
after nine o'clock, sir.

I was carrying Mr. Hunter supper
across from the house.

Awe, but Miss Baxter,

what did the supper consist of?

It was a dish of
curried mutton, sir.

Suddenly I heard a man's voice.

Did not give me a turn,
I can tell you sir.

Excuse me, Miss.

What do you want, sir?

Can you tell me where I am?

I'd almost made up my
mind to sleep on the moor

when I saw the light.

This is King's Pyland
training stable, sir.

What a stroke of luck.

I understand there's stable lad
who sleeps here at night.

No doubt that's his
supper you have there.

I'm sure you wouldn't be too proud

to earn yourself the price of
a new dress would you?

See the boy has this tonight

and you shall have the prettiest
frock money can buy.

I couldn't!

Ned!

Ned!

Ned!

There's a man stopped me out there.
I'm ever so frightened.

- What did he want?
-He asked after you.

He asked me to
give you something.

What was it?

I don't know. It was white.

-Where is he now?
- He's gone.

We best cut back to the house.
Quick tell the governor!

Yes Ned.

Good evening
I want a word with you.

What business have you here?

It's a business that may put
something in your pocket, my lad.

Now you've two horses
entering the Wessex Cup,

Silver Blaze and Bayard.

Let me have the straight tip
and you won't be the loser.

Is it the fact that at the weights Bayard
can give the other a hundred yards

and five furlongs in the...

You won't get any tips
around here, get out!

After him boy, after him!

The governor and the others
came down soon enough.

We found not a sight
or sound of the man.

One moment.

When you let the dog out did you
leave the door open behind you?

Oh excellent, Watson, excellent.
It's just the point I was going to make.

I locked the door behind me sir.
I swear it.

Good lad.

Does Fitzroy Simpson
admit to all this?

He denies nothing.

He says he came for information..

What about the white paper?

He says it was a five-pound note.

What happened next?

Well sir,

it was about dawn when the mistress
came into my bedroom

and told me to come with her.

Well when she woke she'd found
Mr. Straker's bed empty.

Heavens! The horse is gone...

And the bridle.

Ned, wake up!

Wake the boys.

Ned! Ned! Wake up.
Wake up, Ned!

Bill, Robbie come quick,
Silver Blaze is gone.

Over here.

He was dead sir.

His head,

it was all knocked in.

It was terrible.

It was a terrible blow on the head

from some blunt instrument
that had killed him.

It was clear that he had
defended himself most vigorously.

The blood stained knife.

As to the wound on the
thigh, who can tell?

Well it is possible that
the wound on the thigh

could have been caused
as Straker fell.

The lad here was drugged.

Appreciable quantities of powered
opium were found in his carry.

Did all the household
eat the same dish?

Yes sir, I made it myself and served it.

This black and red scarf?

The gentleman was wearing that scarf
when he talked to me.

I'd swear that on the Bible, sir.

Thank you Watson.

Thank you.

Stop it boy. Stop it.
Come on. Good dog.

Good boy.

My theory is that Simpson
was under some strong

obligation to Nobble or otherwise
incapacitate this horse

so that he would be unable
to run in the Wessex Cup.

Clever move that, putting
opium in the boy's food

and easy enough
through that window.

Yes. Then it was simple.

He obtained a duplicate key,
led out the horse,

it was his bad luck that Straker was
alert enough to catch him up on the moor,

in the struggle the horse bolted.

That's no proof
that Simpson killed Straker.

Well the evidence against
him is very strong.

He was undoubtedly here
on some devious business.

He poisoned the stable lad.

He had in his hand a heavy stick
weighted with lead

and his scarf was found
in the dead man's hand

And he went pale as death when
I confronted him with that fact.

I really think we have enough
to go before a jury.

No, no, no.

Inspector, a clever councellor
would tear it all to rags.

Has a duplicate key been
found in his possession?

No.

Well what chemist sold
him the powered opium?

And above all how could he, a stranger
in this district, hide a horse

and such a horse as Silver Blaze?

I agree the evidence is circumstantial

but I think the net is drawn
pretty tightly around Fitzroy Simpson

and I believe he is our man.

What sort of fellow is he and
why would he do such a thing?

Fitzroy Simpson is a man of
excellent birth and dedication.

Unfortunately he has
squandered a fortune on the turf,

which has put him in the hands of
moneylenders and unscrupulous bookmakers.

Plenty of those sharks
in the racing world.

I didn't know that you were
a betting man, Watson.

What? Oh, just the occasional flutter.

I presume an inventory
has been made

of what Straker had in his pockets
at the time of his death?

I have the things themselves
in the sitting room

if you would care to see them.

Weiss & Co., London.

From the bloodstains, I presume,

this is the knife that was found
in the dead man's grasp.

Yes indeed.

This is more in your line, Doctor.

This is what we call
a cataract knife.

Very delicate blade devised for
very delicate work.

Strange thing for a man to take
on so rough an expedition, Holmes,

especially as it wouldn't
shut in his pocket.

Awe, the tip was guarded
by a disc of cork,

which we found beside the body.

You impress me, Inspector.

Thank you. Mrs. Straker says
it was on the dressing table.

It was probably the nearest
thing to him at the time.

I see.

I see.

Corn merchants bill.

Instructions from Colonel Ross.

Ah what have we here?

A milliner's account for
37 pounds fifteen shillings

for a Madame Lesurier,
of Bond Street, London,

to a Mr. William Derbyshire.

Mrs. Straker tells us that Derbyshire
was a friend of her husband's

and on occasionally had
his letters addressed here.

Twenty-two guineas.

Somewhat heavy for
a single costume.

Mrs. Derbyshire had
rather expensive taste.

Yes.

Well there appears to be nothing
more to learn here, Inspector,

shall we move onto the
scene of the crime?

Yes, of course.

After you Watson.

Have you got them, Inspector?

Is there any more news?

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Straker.

But Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson

have come down from
London to help us.

I assure you we're doing
everything possible.

I wish you good luck, Mr. Holmes.

Oh thank you madam and my
commiserations on your great loss.

Surely we've met?

At a garden party
in Plymouth some time ago.

No sir. You are mistaken.

No, do you know I
could have sworn it.

You wore a costume
of dove-colored silk

with ostrich feather trimming.

I never had such a dress, sir.

That quite settles it.
Thank you.

That is the bush where
the coat was hanging.

- What was the weather like?
- Calm, bit of rain about.

And the coat was not blown against
the bush but placed there?

Oh yes, it was placed.

Inspector!

No, no, no!

So many people have
trampled around this land.

There have been many people here.

That piece of matting
has been placed there

and we have all stood upon there.

Not the general public.

I have in this bag.

One of the boots
John Straker wore,

one of Fitzroy Simpson's shoes,

and a cast horseshoe
of Silver Blaze.

Thank you, Inspector.

Half burned wax candle.

I cannot understand how
I came to overlook them.

Oh they're invisible
buried in the mud.

I only saw them because
I was looking for them.

What, you expected to find them?

I thought it not unlikely.

I'm afraid there
are no more tracks.

I've examined the ground for
a hundred yards in every direction.

What a pleasant evening.

I think I'll take a walk,
stretch my legs Watson?

- Yes, indeed.
- I'll take this for luck.

I have some work
to do in the house,

then Colonel Ross is coming
to take us back to Tavistock.

Good evening, Constable.

Suppose that Silver Blaze broke away,
where would he have gone?

If he'd run loose on the moor
he'd have surely been seen by now.

Perhaps the gypsy theory's correct.

No, no, no, no.

A horse is a most
gregarious creature.

Now he did not go
back to King's Pyland

to his own stable,
so he must have gone...

to Mapleton.

Now let us use that as
a working hypothesis.

The ground around here is very hard
and dry, but over there

in that hollow it must have been
very wet on Monday night.

If our supposition is correct,

he must have crossed it.

Watson!

By George, look at that.

You see the value of imagination

is the one quality
which Inspector Gregory lacks.

We imagined what might have
happened, acted upon the supposition,

and find ourselves justified.
Let us proceed.

Look! Look!

Horse and man turned.

No loitering around here.
Haven't you got eyes in your head.

I only wanted to ask you
a question.

Should I be too early
to see Mr. Silas Brown,

if I was to call around here
at five-thirty tomorrow morning?

I shouldn't be speaking
to you by rights.

Here lad.

Mr. Brown's the early bird
around here all right,

Dawson, what are you doing
gossiping with strangers?

Be about your business.

Now what the devil do
you two want around here?

Just a few minutes of
your time, Mr. Brown.

Be off with you or you'll find
the dog on your heels.

Why should I talk every
gadabout stranger on the moor?

It may save you instant dismissal
from Lord Blackwater's service

and the stiffest prison sentence.

Keep guard.

Early Tuesday morning,

you're about the yard as usual,

when you saw a horse on the moor.

When you approached it you realized
that it wasn't a strange horse at all.

It was one that you knew, very well.

Your first instinct
was to lead Silver...

Silver Blaze back to King's Pyland

but then the devil put
other ideas into your head.

You have a chance to make
a great deal of money.

It occurred to you that if
you were to hide the horse...

You've been watching me,
haven't you?

You've been spying on me, sir.

Now. Sir.

I do what you want.

If it's money you want,
you shall have it.

You will do exactly as I tell you.

A more perfect compound
of the bully, coward and sneak

that Master Silas Brown.
I've seldom met with.

- He has the horse then?
- Of course.

But his stables have been searched.

An old faker like him
knows many a dodge.

Watson, I didn't know
whether you observed

but Colonel Ross manner
has been somewhat cavalier.

I'm inclined to have a little
amusement at his expense.

Say nothing to him
about the horse.

I shall say nothing
without your permission.

Splendid.

We have found traces which show
that a party of gypsies encamped

on Monday night within a mile
of where the murder took place.

Fitzroy Simpson may well have
an understanding with them

over hiding the horse.

Nevertheless, I think
I owe it to the public

to remove Silver Blaze's name
for the entrance for the cup.

No, certainly not! Colonel,
I should let the name stand.

But I've already withdrawn Bayard.

But I have every hope that Silver
Blaze will start on Saturday.

Have your jockey at readiness.

I'm very glad to have
your opinion, sir.

That is a minor point, of course,

compared with the question
of who killed John Straker.

Doubtless you will be devoting
yourself to that problem.

On the contrary,
Doctor Watson and I

were taking the Night
Express to London.

We've had the most charming little
breath of your country air.

So you've despaired already of arresting
the murderer of poor John Straker.

With our certain grave difficulties.

Do you have the
photograph of Straker?

Thank you, Inspector. I am quite
ready now for Tavistock.

Linger.

I must say I am rather disappointed
in our London consultant.

I don't see that were any
further than when he came.

But at least you have his assurance
Colonel that your horse will run.

Oh yes, I have his assurance.
I should prefer to have the horse.

I think you should heed
Mr. Holmes advice, Colonel.

Well I shall have to see.

Excuse me, whom looks after
these sheep?

I do, sir.

Have you noticed
anything amiss of late?

No sir.

Well it's not much account,
but three of them have gone lame.

Thank you.

A long shot, Watson, a very
long shot. After you.

Inspector I would like
to recommend to you

the singular epidemic
among the sheep.

You really consider
that to be important?

Exceedingly so.

All right Baynes.

Is there any other point to which you
wish to draw my attention, Mr. Holmes?

To the curious incident
of the dog in the nighttime.

But the dog did nothing
in the nighttime.

That is the curious incident.

Where the devil is
my horse, Holmes?

No, no, no, no.
Where the devil is he?

I suppose, Colonel, that you would
recognize him if you saw him?

Know my own horse?

I have been on the
turf for twenty years

and I've never been asked
such a damn fool question before.

A child would know Silver Blaze

with the white star on his
forehead and mottled hind leg.

I suppose you realize
if my horse doesn't run,

quite a part from being
lynched by the crowd,

I shall be up before the Stewards.

Probably warned off every
racecourse in England for life.

Reputation ruined.

Awe, let us hope it does
not come to that, Colonel.

Here's Doctor Watson.

And this, Colonel,

is your horse.

But that's not my horse, Holmes!

Good God man, what have you done?

There Colonel is your Silver Blaze.

I found him in the hands of a faker

and brought him to the
course just as he was.

Good heavens.

You take my breath away, Mr. Holmes.

Silver Blaze.

If he runs me lord
to win a place me lord?

To win, of course.

Any more like you at home?

Come on! What's the matter
with the damn horse?

What have you done to him Holmes?

He seems to be missing
his pacemaker.

I should have never
withdrawn Bayard.

Wait a minute he's breaking through.

Come on Silver Blaze.
Come on Silver Blaze.

Go on. Go on.
Go on. Go on.

You've done wonders Mr. Holmes,

and I owe you a thousand apologies
for having doubted your ability.

Now you've done me a great service
by recovering my horse.

You'd do me a greater still

if you could lay your hands
on the murderer of John Straker.

I've done so.

What? What's all this about
if you got him. Where is he then?

He's here.

Here! Where?

Some who's now present
at this very moment.

Yes, I quite recognize that I'm under
obligations to you Mr. Holmes,

but this either a very
bad joke or an insult.

Oh the real murderer, Colonel, is
Standing immediately behind you.

What the horse?

Yes, the horse.

And it may lessen his guilt if I say

that it was done
entirely in self-defense,

and that John Straker

was a man quite
unworthy of your trust.

Number four, sir, winner.

Come Ross.

Yes, thank you very much.

Thank you very much.

- Number twelve.
- Number twelve.

Very proud of it. Very proud.

Thank you very much.
Thank you.

I confess, gentlemen,
when we came down to King's Pylan,

I was convinced that Fitzroy Simpson
was the true culprit.

All the newspaper and police
reports seemed to point to it.

It was only when I entered
the trainer's house

that the immense significance of
the curried mutton occurred to me.

I confess that even now.
I cannot see how it helps us.

Powdered opium, Colonel
is by no means tasteless.

I am correct?

Oh quite correct. The flavor is not
distasteful but it is perceptible.

Were it mixed with an ordinary dish
the eater would undoubtedly detect it

but would probably eat no more.

Carry was exactly the medium
with which to disguise the taste.

So it must have been
Straker or his wife?

Exactly.

Cause I remember
you spoke of a dog.

Yes, the dog that didn't
bark in the night.

Well someone had
been into the stable

and taken out the horse
and the dog had not barked.

So obviously this midnight visitor
was someone the dog knew well.

I wasn't really convinced
that it was a stranger.

But for what purpose should
he take out the horse, and

drug his own stable boy?

A dishonest one, obviously.

There have been cases before now

where trainers have
made great sums of money by

laying against their own horses and
then preventing them from winning.

Well sometimes you get a pulling
jockey, I will say that.

And sometimes

by surer and most subtler means.

This-

singular knife, it was found
in the dead man's hand

and which no sane man
would use as a weapon, right?

Oh yes, only, only used
in the most delicate operations.

It was used for a very delicate
operation that night.

Excuse me.

As you know, Colonel,

with your wide knowledge
of turf matters

that it is possible to make a slight
nick in the horse's tendon,

and do it, subcutaneously.

Any slight lameness will be put
down to a strain in training

or bruised, never foul play.

Villain! The damn Scoundrel!

Not an operation to be done in
the stable. No food for me.

So sensitive a creature would
arouse the soundest of sleepers.

I've been blind and Gregory too.

Of course, that's why he needed
the candle and struck the match.

When I examined Straker's belongings
I was fortunate enough to discover

not only the method of the crime
but also the motive.

Most men do not carry other people's
bills in their pockets.

From this I concluded that Straker
was leading a double life.

The nature of the bill shows that
there was a woman in the case.

And a woman of expensive taste.

Liberal though you are
with your servants,

I'm sure they're not able to afford

twenty-two guinea, walking
dresses for their ladies.

Mrs. Straker never had
one by her own admission.

When I visited Bond
Street the other morning,

I showed Madame Lesurier
this photograph of Straker.

She recognized him

as an extremely good customer
called William Derbyshire

with a very dashing young wife
with a partiality for expensive dresses.

Women! Women!

I suppose it was she who plunged
him head over heels into debt

and so left him to his miserable plot.

Straker let out Silver Blaze
into the hollow

where his light would not
be visible from the yard.

Simpson in his flight
had dropped his scarf.

Straker picked it up
with the idea, no doubt

that he might use it
in securing the horses leg.

Straker was able to light his candle

but just as he had the knife ready
the horse lashed out

and caught him a fatal
blow on the forehead.

Why? And why did the horse
lash out so suddenly?

Frightened by the candle, the knife?

Well animals have a strange instinct.

They seem to know
when some mischief is intended.

My final shot I must
confess, was a long one.

It struck me that such astute man,
as Straker

would not undertake this tendon-nicking
without a little practice.

The sheep! Of course!

Wonderful, my dear.

Now you've explained
all but one thing.

The horse.
Now where was the horse?

Well I think we must have

a little amnesty in
that direction, Colonel.

It bolted and was looked after
by one of your neighbors.

Gentlemen I give you a toast

to Silver Blaze

coupled with the names
of my friends,

Mr. Sherlock Holmes and
Doctor Watson.

To Silver Blaze.