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Smithys Picture House
Sherlock Holmes and the Valley of Fear 1983
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Good morning, Holmes. There was a letter for you this morning. Good morning, Watson. I trust you slept well. Thank you. Here, Watson, tell me what you think of this. 534, C2, 13, 127. What is it? Some sort of code? It is indeed, Watson, the work, no doubt, of my informant, who works under the alias of the But surely it's not of much use sending a cipher to someone unless they have the key to the But surely it's not of much use sending a cipher to someone unless they have the key to the No, I don't. But this much I do know.
The cipher is a reference to the words in a page of some But until I learn which page and which book, I can do nothing. If it's a code based on a book, then why write Douglas and Berlston? Surely because those are words which are not contained in the page in question. And why has this poor lock fellow not indicated the name of the book? Your native shrewdness, my dear Watson, that innate cunning which is the delight of your friends, would surely prevent you from enclosing a secret code and the key to it in the same envelope. Expect a message or perhaps even the book to arrive in the next mail. Well, we shall see soon enough.
The second mail has just been delivered. You're right, Holmes. This letter is in the same handwriting. It is comparatively easy to predict the actions of such a poor lock when one is constantly at odds with some of the greatest criminal brains in the world. This is unfortunate. It is too dangerous for me to continue. I dare not contact you again. Burn the cipher message which can be of no use to you now in sign Fred Poorlock. Poorlock. But why write a letter to tell us he will not give us the cipher? I would suggest it's because the people he's informed us of must be dangerous, probably killers.
It's pretty maddening to think that an important secret may lie on this paper, but that it is beyond human power to penetrate it. Perhaps there are points which have escaped your attention. Let us consider the problem in the light of pure reason. I have already deduced that Poorlock referred to a book. Ah, yes. But which book? There are a lot of books in this world. Quite so, Watson. But we do know several things about the book. Look here. The message begins with a number, 534. It is reasonable to take that as a page number. So we have established that our book must have at least 534 pages and would therefore be a large book.
And C2 would indicate chapter 2? The letter C surely cannot indicate a chapter. For one thing, it is a large book. The letter C surely cannot indicate a chapter. For one thing, if we are only in chapter 2 on page 534, then the first chapter would be inordinately long. And for another, if we know the page, we don't need to know the chapter. Well, what does it refer to? It would be column 2. But you still don't know which book. The next highest number in the note is 293, so the book must have long columns to contain that number of words.
As to the book itself, my dear Watson, had it been an unusual one, Paul Locke would have sent a copy to me. I therefore reason that it must be a very common book. Could it be the Bible? I doubt that. There are too many editions, too many shapes and sizes. Ah, what about Whittaker's Almanac? Could that be it? Excellent, Watson. Let's see if the message makes sense. There is. . . danger. There is danger may come very soon. One Douglas rich country now at Burlston House Burlston. Confidence is pressing. What a strange note. What does it mean? Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Inspector, now I have a question. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.
Inspector MacDonald, very nice to see you. Good day, gentlemen. What brings you to Baker Street, Mr. Mac? I need your help, Mr. Holmes. What. . . this? Douglas. . . Burlston? That's Wedgecraft. That is the answer to a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. Your solution is correct. John Douglas of Burlston Manor House was horribly murdered last night. This informant of yours moves far too much from a liking. It seems to me that all I have to do is to arrest him as an accessory, and he'll be forced to supplies with enough information to clear this case up quick smart. No doubt, Mr.
Mac, how do you propose to lay your hands on a man who disguises his writing, who perhaps an assumed name, gives no address, and posts his letters from Camberwell Post Office, one of the biggest in London? All right, then. What do you know about Porlock? Very little, except he is well connected with the worst criminals in London and must keep his crime-fighting activities well and truly covered. Very well. I'm on my way to Burlston House to investigate this murder, and I called in to see if you and Dr. Watson could help me. White Mason, our local officer, suggested I seek your help. He promises the case will be worthy of your metal. We accept. Come, Watson.
Sergeant Wilson, what can you tell us about John Douglas? He was about five foot nine inches tall, well built with grey-brown hair and a moustache. He talked with an American accent. Did he have any enemies? None that I ever heard of. On the contrary, in the five years he's lived at Burlston House, he's been a very good friend of mine. He's been a very good friend of mine. He's been a very good friend of mine. He's been a very good friend of mine. After five years he's lived at Burlston House, he's become well liked and even much admired for his bravery. You mentioned bravery, Sergeant. Yes, sir. He was a fearless rider.
He took many a fall, which would have stopped a lesser man. One time when the vicarage caught fire, he was the only one brave enough to go inside to save property, even after the brigades had given up. Who else lives at Burlston House, Sergeant? His wife, sir. She's a very quiet lady, she is, too. Plus, of course, Ames the butler and Mrs. Allen the housekeeper. In addition, last night, Mr. Barker, an old friend of the family, was there. Mr. Barker knew Douglas from the old days when he was in America. That's where he made all his money, sir. Gold mining in California. It was I who discovered the body, gentlemen.
I've already told the story to your colleague, Mr. Mason, here. It was half past 11 last night. I was sitting by the fire in my bedroom when I heard a gun go off. It sounded muffled. The shot appeared to come from downstairs and I heard a gunshot. I was very surprised. I thought it was a gunshot. I thought it was a gunshot. I thought it was a gunshot. The shot appeared to come from downstairs, so I ran down to see what it was. And when I got to this study, I saw Douglas's feet sticking out from behind the sofa. One look was sufficient for me to be certain he was dead. His face was unrecognisable.
The sawn-off shotgun was lying across his chest and it looked as though his face had taken the full force of both barrels. I lit the table lamp and rang for the servants. The doorbell rang. Before they arrived, I quickly covered his head with a tablecloth and went to the door. There's been an accident. You mustn't come in here. John has been shot. I'm afraid he's dead. Mrs Allen, you'd better take your mistress to her room and I think you should stay with her. Ames, will you send for Dr Wood and I think you'd better get Sergeant Wilson at the same time. And you say nothing has been touched in here? Not a thing, sir. Not a thing.
I can vouch for that. He was lying just as you see him now. His candle was in the room. His candle was burning on the table. I put it out after I'd lit the lamp. That's horrible. There's obviously nothing I can do here. I'll just make a preliminary examination and then I'll leave you to it. What time did you raise the drawbridge, Mr Ames? Oh, six o'clock, Sergeant. Same time as always. In that case, Mr Barker, if you came into this study straight after the shot, then it's quite possible the murderer was actually in the moat when you found the body. Could he not still be in the house? I don't think so.
Unless I miss my guess, that smear is blood. The murderer stood on this ledge when he climbed through the window to get away. What will you make of this? It's not a tattoo. It's more like a brand to me. I don't profess to know the meaning of it, but I've noticed it on him many times over the years. And so have I whenever the Master rolled up his sleeves. A vase for the murderer. A vase, three, four, one. I can't think what that means. I'll not be sorry when White Mason gets here to take over this mystery. His wedding ring has gone. He always wore his wedding ring under that nugget ring, and now it's gone.
Well, gentlemen, that's the full story of what happened last night. Thank you, Mr. Barker, but I feel we need to give this a little more thought. The murderer used buckshot cartridges. Here the triggers are wired together so that when the back one is pulled, both barrels discharge. I can't read the manufacturer's name properly, but I can make out P-E-N. That would be the Pennsylvania Small Arms Company, a well-known American firm. That suggests the intruder was American. No doubt he sawed off the barrels so that he could conceal the gun in a case or under his coat. Hold on a minute.
What real evidence is there that anyone entered this house? What about this open window? The blood on the sill, this strange card? That could have all been a set-up to take us along the wrong path. I'd like to examine the other side of the moat for traces of anyone climbing out. MUSIC Perhaps he drowned in the moat. That's not very likely. The water is only three feet deep. Soon after I got here last night, I sent an order to all police in the district to look out for anyone wearing wet clothes. I've heard nothing, so whoever it was has made good his escape. Or had a dry suit hidden somewhere.
Where were you when you heard the shot? Well, sir, I didn't actually hear the shot. I was in the pantry when the bell rang. It kept on ringing. I wondered if something was wrong, so I hurried to the study. How did Mr Douglas behave during these last few days? Did he give any impression that he thought his life was in danger? You should ask that, sir. The day before the murder, he seemed quite jittery. I remember when he asked me to raise the drawbridge last night. He said he always felt safer when it was up. He must have been nervous. He cut himself shaving. I'm glad you confirmed that. I intended to ask you why he had that sticky plaster on his chin.
What's all that commotion? I think they're yelling something about a bicycle. It sounds as if they've put a bicycle hidden in the woods. Come on, quickly! Let's go! Let's go! Only a spanner and oil can. Look at the mud on this bike. It's come a long way. We must track down the owner. Whoever left it here must be the killer. I'd rather think not, Inspector. Come, Watson, you and I can spend our time more profitably talking with Ames back at the house. Could you pass that dumbbell to me, please, Ames? It's quite heavy, sir. Quite so, Ames, quite so. Was your master in the habit of exercising with only one dumbbell? Where is the mate to this one? I don't know, sir.
I've not seen it. Can you account for these? No, sir. This room was thoroughly cleaned yesterday. Mrs. Allen would make certain of that. They must have been left by. . . By the murderer, of course. The room was lit only by the candle John Douglas was carrying. The murderer hid in the corner, leaving those footprints. When he was surprised by Douglas, he shot him and escaped through that window. Don't you agree, Holmes? No, I don't. If he performed as you have suggested, the noisiest of weapons when quiet was his best defence against discovery. Having roused the whole household, he must have stopped to remove the wedding ring from his victim's finger.
Then he left his calling card, VV341, and putting down his gun, he took instead a dumbbell. After that, he made his escape, leaving his bicycle behind where it could be easily discovered and its owner traced. Too much against the balance of probability, Don't you agree, Holmes? Exactly, Watson. I wonder if I might talk with Mrs Allen. She may know more of this mystery than she is aware. When I've spoken to her, I'd like a few words with Mrs Douglas. Spare the ladies the unpleasant memories of this study. Perhaps you could ask them to join me in the library. As you wish, sir. Come in. Come in. Come in. Come in, Mrs Allen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you answer.
I'm afraid I'm a little deaf. Common enough affliction. I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs Allen. Because your bedroom is close to the study, I was hopeful you may have heard something last night. I was in my room getting ready for bed when I heard Mr Aves running past my door shouting that something had happened. So I followed him. As a matter of fact, I didn't actually hear a shout because my deafness is not too bad. It's funny too because I did hear a door slam about half an hour before that. What happened next? When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Mr Barker coming out of the study. He was obviously very shaken. He shouted that the master had been shot dead.
He told me to take Mrs Douglas to the library. I was very worried. I was very worried. He told me to take Mrs Douglas to her room and stay with her. How did Mrs Douglas take the news? Did she try to go to her husband? No, sir. She turned on her heel and went straight back up the stairs. I stayed with her all night. She just sat with her head in her hands. I thought she took it quite well. Thank you, Mrs Allen. You are very helpful. You may go.
In the unlikely event that I should ever marry, I should hope to inspire in my wife some feeling which would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper when my corpse was lying just a few feet away. Are you suggesting that in some way Mrs Douglas is implicated in the murder of her own husband? Tell me, Mrs Douglas, what precisely were you doing when the alarm was given? I was getting ready for bed when I heard the shot. I ran at once to the study. Could you give us any idea how long your husband had been downstairs before you heard the shot? No, I cannot say for sure. He always did the rounds of the house before going to bed. He was very nervous of fire.
You've known your husband Yes, he's lived here for ten years. We married five years ago. Have you ever heard him speak of anything which occurred in America and might bring some danger to him? Can a husband ever carry a secret with him all his life without the woman who loves him suspecting it? I knew because of his refusal to talk about some episodes in his American life. I knew it by certain precautions he took. I knew it by certain words in that fall. I knew it by the way he looked at unexpected strangers. He was always on his guard.
But most of all, I knew it because one day he said to me, are we never to get out of the Valley of Fear? You told us that when you entered the room there was only a lighted candle on the table. Yes, that is so. You had once rang for help. I did. And it arrived speedily? Within a minute. Yet when help arrived, the candle was out and the lamp had been lit. The candle threw a very bad light. The lamp was on the table so I lit it. Well, what do you make of it, Watson? I don't believe that fellow Barker and I wonder if there is not some sort of conspiracy between he and Mrs. Douglas.
A lie, Watson, a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, uncompromising lie. That's what meets us. The whole story told by Barker is a lie but the Barker story is corroborated by Mrs. Douglas, therefore she is also lying. How do you actually know they are lying? That's elementary, my dear Watson, elementary. Ames didn't hear the shot. You remember that he was in the pantry and was summoned to the study by the bell. Mrs. Allen didn't hear the shot because she's a little deaf, although she says she was alerted by the noise made by Ames as he hurried past her bedroom door. Only Mrs. Douglas and Barker say they heard the shot. Sotton Wilson told us that Douglas was well known for his bravery.
Would a brave man hand over his wedding ring? I think not. The fact that so little of the candle had been burned shows there was no lengthy discussion between Douglas and his murderer. There was no time for the assassin to remove the wedding ring after the shot. Ask yourself, Watson, would a murderer choose the noisiest weapon available, run the risk of rousing the household, then remove the wedding ring and replace the nugget ring that was with it? Of course he wouldn't. The assassin must have spent some time alone with his victim and that must have been after the lamp was lit. Would you bring me your umbrella, Watson, and then leave me to read and think? There is one further matter which I must yet resolve.
An umbrella, Holmes? And what is this further matter? Whatever happened to the missing dumbbell? Did you discover the owner of the bicycle? We did indeed. A man named Hargrave registered two days ago at the commercial hotel in Tunbridge Wells. The day after he arrived, he left on his bicycle and hasn't been seen since. Obviously he's our man. The timing is perfect. He committed the murder, then ran for it. Leaving his bicycle where he was bound to be discovered quickly and not checking out of the hotel, the manager would surely report the sudden disappearance of a guest to the police. Well, we'll have him soon enough anyway. His description has gone out on the wire and he, uh. . .
What did he look like? Well, I don't seem to have taken any particular stock of him, but the porter, the clerk, and the chambermaid all agreed that, uh. . . he is five feet nine inches tall about fifty years old, hair grizzled, moustache gray, nose curved, a general appearance, fierce facial expression. And he is an American. Well, aside from the fierce face, you might have described Douglas himself. You recall that Sergeant Wilson said Douglas was? Exactly as the inspector just said. About five foot nine inches tall, well built, with gray brown hair and a moustache. And he talked with an American accent.
Did you get anything else? Only that he was dressed in a heavy gray suit with a reefer jacket, and he wore a short yellow overcoat and soft cap. It is our opinion that Hargrave left his hotel yesterday morning and rode here with the gun hidden under his overcoat. Probably watched and waited all day for an opportunity to get into the house and shoot Douglas. We conclude that he hid behind the curtain in the study and when Douglas entered he shot him and escaped. Well, what do you think of our theory, Mr. Holmes? Well, it's very good and clear as far as it goes. I say that the crime was committed half an hour earlier than we have been told, and that Mrs.
Douglas and Barker are both in a conspiracy to conceal something. And they aided the murderer's escape. If your theory is right, Mr. Holmes, then we must exchange one mystery for another. And in some respects a worse one. Mrs. Douglas has never been to America. Why should she want to protect the American assassin of her husband? I propose to spend the evening in the murder room reading, and I might even go fishing. I'll see you gentlemen in the morning. Was your evening successful, Mr. Holmes? Did you catch any fish? In a manner of speaking, yes. I spent a very pleasant and informative evening reading about this fine old house. Let me give you an example.
Erected in the fifth year of the reign of James I, the manor house of Burlston presents one of the finest surviving examples of the moated Jacobean residence. You are making fools of us, Mr. Holmes. Do calm yourself, Inspector. I'm sure he has a reason. Haven't you, Holmes? Indeed I have. Are you aware, gentlemen, that this house was taken in 1644 in the course of our civil war and that Charles the King was concealed here for several days, and also that George II stayed here? And what's that got to do with us? Breadth of view, my dear Mr. Mac, is one of the essentials of our profession. But I'll drop history and get down to present day facts. You'll be pleased to learn that Mrs.
Douglas is not pining for her husband. I am told by the good aims that she ate an excellent dinner last night. During my evening in the study, I decided to ask you to issue an order to drain the moat. Drain the moat? I don't know if it's possible. Get some paper, Watson, and I'll dictate a note to Mrs. Douglas. It has struck me that it is our duty to drain the moat in the hope that we may find something which may bear upon our investigation. I have made arrangements for the workmen to start diverting the stream tomorrow morning. I thought it best to explain matters beforehand. Deliver that note to Mrs. Douglas at 4 o'clock this afternoon.
And at sunset, let us meet behind the laurel bushes on the bank opposite the study. In the meantime, I suggest you go for a stroll. This inquiry has come to a definite pause. I saw something you should know about. Before dinner yesterday, I came across Mrs. Douglas and Barker laughing and joking together in the garden. What do you make of that? I thought a lot about the relationship of Mrs. Douglas and Barker. Tonight, I expect to solve the mystery. It looks as if they're getting ready for bed over there. Well, that's what we should be doing. We've been here for hours, and I'm tired and cold. Shh! It shouldn't be much longer.
What's he doing? Come on, we must catch him! Come on, let's go! Come on, Ames! Hurry, man, or you'll get away! Ah, Mr. Holmes! Inspector! Inspector? What the devil is the meaning of all this? This is what we're after. This bundle, weighted with a dumbbell, which you've just dragged from the bottom of the moat. How would you know that? How do you know that? Elementary, my dear Watson. Because I put it there. You put it there? You put the bundle in the moat? I don't understand. Perhaps I should have said I replaced it there. Inspector, you will remember that I was somewhat struck by the absence of a dumbbell.
When water is near and a weight is missing, it is reasonable to suppose that something may have been sunk in the water. The idea was at least worth testing. So last night I stayed in this room until everyone had gone to bed. Then, with the crook of Dr. Watson's umbrella, I fished up and inspected the bundle you now see. You will notice this long pocket. You're holding the sawed-off shotgun. Exactly. Note also the label inside the coat. Neil, outfitter, Vermissa, USA. Reference to Good Atlas will disclose that Vermissa is in Vermissa Valley. It would surely not be too far-fetched an idea that the V. V.
on the card near the body might stand for Vermissa Valley, or that this very valley which sends forth emissaries of murder may be the Valley of Fear which John Douglas mentioned to his wife. I would accept that, Holmes, but why do you intend to drain the moat? I no longer do, Watson. That was a ruse on my part to force whoever put the bundle into the moat to retrieve it. All four of us saw who that was. Now, Mr. Barker, I seem to be standing in the way of your explanation. You've done enough for us now, Cecil. Ah, Mrs. Douglas. I now know that neither you nor Mr. Barker committed the murder, and I strongly recommend that you ask Mr.
Douglas to tell us his own story. John Douglas? Oh, in heaven can a man who's been. . . I think it's about time I told you what this is all about. I am John Douglas. I am John Douglas. May I smoke as I talk? You have no idea how difficult it is for a smoker to remain hidden for two days with tobacco in his pocket and to be afraid to smoke for fear the smell will give him away. I'll never forget the way you appeared like a jack-in-the-box. It fairly beats me. If you are John Douglas, then whose murder have we been investigating? And how did you know, Holmes, that he was still alive? It is common knowledge that houses of this age always had secret panels.
I did refer you to this excellent book. When I read that King Charles had been concealed here, the idea struck me that we would find John Douglas under his own roof. And how long have you known this, Mr. Holmes? Only last night did I form the views of the case, Mr. Mack. As they could not be put to the test until tonight, this morning at breakfast I invited you and Mr. White Mason to go for a stroll whilst I fished in the moat. When I found the suit of clothes, it became apparent that the body we had found could not be that of John Douglas and must therefore be that of the mysterious cyclist from Tunbridge Wells.
I had to determine where John Douglas himself could be. And the balance of probability was that with the connivance of his wife and friend he was concealed in this house awaiting quiet at times when he could make his final escape. Well, you figured it out right. From the start I have done nothing to be ashamed of. But you be the judge of that. I'll tell you my story. My story begins 15 years ago in the USA. I was on a train out of Chicago. You're a stranger in these parts? Yes. Name's John McMurdo. I'm Mike Scanlon. You look ready for trouble. We needed them sometimes in the place I came from. And where might that be? Chicago. Where are you heading? Vermissa Valley.
I'm looking for a job. Vermissa Valley is a tough place. You may find you need your gun there as well as Chicago. As to a job, you'll have to talk with Jack McGinney. He runs everything around here. If he approves of you, you'll have to join VV341. I've read in the Chicago papers about VV341. Gang of murderers, aren't they? You won't live long in these parts if you talk out loud like that. More than one has had the life beaten out of him for less. We'll be in Vermissa Valley in two minutes. I go right past McGinney's place. I'll point it out to you. I'll point it out to you. I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Mr. McGinney, I'm Mr. McMurdo.
I was advised to come and see you. Well, you see me. This is all there is. What do you think of me? If your heart is as big as your body and your soul as fine as your face, then I'd ask for nothing better. Come on here, Mr. McMurdo. We don't take people on trust in these parts. Nor do we believe all we're told. Have you tried playing any games on us? I'll make short work of you. What are you doing here? I just got in from Chicago, had to leave. The police there are looking for me. Me and my partner were doing a little forging.
I thought he was taking more than his share, so I killed him and came here. Of all the places on earth, you're the only one who's ever been to a place like this. You're the only one who's ever been to a place like this. You're the only one who's ever been to a place like this. You're the only one who's ever been to a place like this. Places on earth? Why'd you choose Vermissa Valley? Because I'd read in the papers that you're not too particular in these parts. Well, you could be right at that. I got a feeling that a man like you can be very useful to VV-341.
You see, when we get pushed around, we need men who will help us push back. Ah! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Are we all agreed that McMurdo be invited to join our group? Yeah! Yeah, sure. Are you ready to be tested? I am. Then you bear pain. As well as any other. Yeah! We're ready. If anyone betrays us, we will kill them. Yeah! Yeah! Now, you may get yourselves something to drink and we'll get on with the business of the evening. Max Linden Company has paid $500 to be left alone. Our Walker Brothers sent in $100, but I returned it with a message that unless they made it $500, their winding gear would break down. Now, the third item is that I need two volunteers to teach Andrew Ray a lesson.
Yeah! Here, we'll do it. Right, let us go. All right, you two can do it. Have you both got guns? Good, then the job is yours. Here's Morris, we're all used to your complaints. What is it this time? Let me read this to you. It's headed Law and Order. Law and Order! Twelve years have now elapsed since the first assassinations confirmed the existence of a criminal organization in our midst. In that time, outrages have never ceased. Extortion, standover tactics, arson and murder have become the order of the day. The police seem to be powerless to act. Now, what do you say to that? How funny! I think Ted Baldwin has got an answer for your question. Thank you, Boss McGinney.
I suggest that with the approval of this meeting I take care of the editor. I'd like to go with him. Not this time, McMurdo. There will be plenty for you to do later. Ted here has handled a dozen of these jobs alone and will have no difficulty with this one. These past months you've been in the valley you've proved yourself to be reliable and trustworthy. You know all the members of BB-341 and they all like you. That's good to know. If ever I step down, I want you to become the boss. But there's one thing I've got to attend to first.
What's that? A message has reached me that a Pinkerton detective named Bertie Edwards is in town collecting evidence against us. If I knew what he looked like, I'd get Ted Baldwin to kill him. I know what he looks like. I knew him from Chicago. You get all the members in the hall tonight and I'll bring him in and the boys can decide what to do with him. Where's Bertie Edwards? I thought you were bringing him in with you. My candy. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I came in with you. My candy? I am Bertie Edwards, a Pinkerton detective.
For months now, I've been collecting evidence against you and your murdering gang. And if you look at the windows, you'll see that you're all being held at gunpoint. There are over 40 police outside. You're all under arrest. Live for your life! I'll get you for this one, Murdo. If it takes me 20 years, I'll get even with you for this. All that happened 15 years ago. I hid in California. I met Cecil Barker there. Then I found gold. But also learned that Ted Baldwin was asking for me around the workings. So I decided to pull up stakes and come to England.
I took the name of John Douglas, married my wife here and came to live at Burlstone House. But Ted Baldwin traced you to England and to Tunbridge Wells where you saw him. This put the fear of God into you. So much so that you cut yourself shaving. Then later you were uneasy until Ames had raised the drawbridge. That evening your worst nightmares came true. You saw Ted Baldwin's boots showing beneath the curtain in your study. You're right. If it takes me 20 years, I'll get even with you for this. I grabbed one of the Dumb Dulls. He fell down. Dead. To your surprise, the servants hadn't heard the shot. Only your wife and Mr.
Barker knew what had happened. And they were quite willing to help you set up the scene as described to us. While he was lying there, I remembered the similarities Baldwin and I had. We were the same age, the same build, the same coloring. We even carried the same brand. The thought struck me. Why not put the VV-341 assassins off my track by pretending I had been murdered? My wife and I could then pack up and go live our lives without fear. We were aware that Mrs. Douglas and Barker had combined to deceive us. When the body had no wedding ring, I began to suspect the truth. We must leave you to Inspector MacDonald.
I'm sure you will find our English system of law quite just. Come, Watson. I say, Rose, it was clever of you to deduce that it was not Douglas's body we saw under the sheet the day we arrived. On the contrary, Watson, it was elementary. A man who cuts his chin shaving doesn't heal in one day. When I first inspected the body, I lifted the sticking plaster. There was no cut. So I knew at once the body was not that of John Douglas. It really was quite elementary, my dear Watson. Quite elementary. .
S K R Y B O T
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