letters are from the
steamship company.
- Regarding tickets to New-York.
- You try to find Stangerson?
Yes, of course.
Sit, Toby!
Good day, inspector
Lestrade.
May I introduce Dr. Watson,
my assistant.
How did you get here,
Mr. Holmes?
- Gregson invited me. - That
wasn't necessary, Gregson.
I am investigating this case
and I don't need assistants.
Maybe you need a chief?
What I definitely don't need
is your stupid jokes.
Please proceed.
Gregson!
Letters...
Since you're here anyway,
try not to get in the way.
Watson!
This is interesting.
"Revenge". A murder then?
Written in blood.
- You sure there are no wounds?
- Not a scratch.
The blood is fresh.
Watson!
And this is even more
interesting.
- Allow me.
- This was under his left leg.
It slipped off Drebber's finger
when he struggled with the
killer. Gregson, put it on the
inventory list.
It would be too small even
for his little finger.
All right...
Then...
It must have belonged to
the killer.
Now we know:
The murderer was short
and had small hands!
- Wrong.
- What?
If you're interested,
you can write down the
description of the murderer.
The murderer...
is a fairly young man.
A little...
shorter than me.
Wears heavy boots,
smokes charuta,
black American cigarettes.
He came here in a two-wheeled
cart together with his victim.
The horse had 3 old horseshoes,
1 new on the front right leg.
Possibly the murderer's
face is red.
A trifle, but perhaps it can
help us.
Mr. Holmes, I don't know how
you do these tricks of yours,
you won't tell me anyway.
All right, how did he kill
Drebber?
- Maybe you know that too?
- I do. He used poison.
Fast-acting poison.
Sorry, sir. I beg your pardon,
there's something wrong here.
Wives put poison
in their husbands' coffee.
Or they put it in old people's
drops to inherit the property.
But here, at night!
In an abandoned house!
How could he have poisoned
this Drebber?
The house stood empty
for 3 years.
But today, when patrolling, I
saw light in one of the windows.
I found that suspicious and
decided to go see what it was.
- I go in and I see...
- Wait a minute, Res.
You didn't go right in. Why
did you go back to the gate?
- How did you know?
- Isn't that so?
It is.
How should I explain it?
You see, I'm not afraid of
anyone who walks on the ground.
Underneath - is a different
matter.
3 years ago a tenant hanged
himself in this house.
Well, I thought, what if it's
him wandering around?
I went back to the gate. Thought
I'd wait for my partner.
But then I decided to go in.
I come in and I see...
We know what you saw.
What did you do next?
I ran outside and blew my
whistle, and my partner came.
- Was there anyone near the
house? - Nearly no one.
A drunkard was leaning against
the fence bawling a song.
I was going to take him to the
station, but we were busy.
- What did he look like?
- The usual way.
He was drunk stiff,
dressed in a brown coat.
A bit shorter than you,
with a red face.
Remember, Res, a policeman's
head is not just for
wearing the cap.
Yesterday you could earn
a sergeant's stripes.
You were looking at the killer,
but you didn't take him in.
Still I don't understand many
things about this case.
Where did the blood on the
floor come from?
And then, why didn't the
murderer run away,
but waited near the house
until the police arrived?
I can answer that. He came
back for the ring.
When he saw the policemen, he
pretended to be drunk.
And, Watson,
this ring will be very
useful to us.
We can use it as bait to
catch fish...
Just like they use sprat to
catch pike.
I suggest we sleep on it.
Good night.
Good night.
(Plays the violin)
The killer watched you from the
moment you went into the house.
He hit you on the head, searched
your pockets but didn't take
anything. Not even your gun.
How did you get here?
You were asking questions all
evening, and at night,
when I didn't hear you
snoring -
I'