Sherlock Holmes and the House of Fear (The House of Fear)

The events I'm about to relate began a fortnight ago.

In a grim old house perched high on a cliff

on the west coast of Scotland.

This singular structure is known as driercliff house.

Gathered there for dinner

were the seven members of a most extraordinary club

called the good comrades.

Into this unique gathering

came their melancholy housekeeper,

Mrs. Monteith

bearing a message

for Ralph king, a retired barrister.

King received it casually.

When they saw the contents,

the good comrades took the whole thing as a joke

but their housekeeper was right,

it was no laughing matter.

For on the following night...

Ralph king died horribly

but this was only the beginning.

A few nights later

as the good comrades gathered

to drink a final toast to their departed member...

Mrs. Monteith entered with a second envelope.

This time addressed to Stanley raeburn.

In his day a distinguished actor.

This time you may be sure

there was no laughter.

These men were afraid

and their fear was justified.

For once again the message

proved to be a portent of death.

It was ten days before raeburn's

battered body was recovered.

Hum, tell Mr. Chalmers

what do these envelopes contain?

In the first case, seven orange pips,

orseeds.

In the second case six.

And the number of orange pips

refer to the surviving members,

a grim warning, eh Holmes?

Looks like murder.

Not necessarily, Watson.

A moment ago you referred to this club as

extraordinary. Why?

All of the members are past middle age,

retired and without near kin.

Six months ago they formed this club here in London

and promptly left for driercliff,

the ancestral home of a Mr. Bruce Alastair,

their eldest member.

Nothing very remarkable about that,

sounds rather friendly as a matter of fact.

The remarkable fact is that all seven of these men

appear to have but one thing in common.

Huh, well what's that?

Elementary, my dear Watson,

each is worth a great deal more dead than alive.

That's right, Mr. Holmes. How did you guess?

My dear Mr. Chalmers,

you represent the association of insurance underwriters,

you're worried about the untimely deaths

of these two good comrades.

Ergo, these men must carry

rather large insurance policies.

Yes, but that's not all.

Shortly after forming this club

all these seven men changed their policies

making the other members their beneficiaries.

The policy's total over a hundred thousand pounds.

Oh, it's very enlightening.

You've paid the five surviving members

on the policies of king and raeburn?

Oh yes, we always pay promptly

but what worries me, Mr. Holmes, is...

Whether these two deaths were accidental or not.

- Exactly. - Is that it?

Of course I may be wrong, I have no proof

but it seems to me to be just possible

that one of these men plans to murder

the others one by one.

And collect on all the policies.

I see the whole thing, Holmes.

Bravo Watson but why the orange pips?

Oh yes, the orange pips.

Pips, Watson?

Bit of a puzzler, eh Holmes?

Quite.

The most intriguing feature.

Any tobacco around this place?

After all Mr. Holmes, several lives may be at stake.

The temptation of sudden wealth could...

Could, could possibly turn one of these

seemingly harmless men into a ruthless killer.

Exactly.

- Are those the good comrades? - Yes.

Let me see them will you?

Hello.

Who's this fellow on the end?

That's doctor merrivale.

Doctor Simon merrivale?

I believe his Christian name is Simon.

Yes, definitely doctor Simon merrivale.

I'll accept your case, Mr. Chalmers.

Watson, pack your things were off to Scotland tonight.

Scotland, home of my ancestors.

A lonely land but a peaceful one.

It's wonderful after stuffy London, eh Holmes?

I say who is this doctor merrivale?

Oh well, if you want to behave like a clam,

you have not uttered a word since we left London.

Sorry, old fellow. I was thinking.

Twenty years ago doctor merrivale

was a famous surgeon in Harley street.

Can't be so very famous, I never heard of him.

Oh, but he was.

His main claim to distinction, of course,

was the unnecessarily brutal murder of a young bride.

Really?

However, he testified so brilliantly on the witness box

that he was acquitted

after which he dropped completely out of sight.

And you think that he was most probably

responsible for the death of these two good comrades?

Well I don't say that he was

but I do say that he could have been.

Murder is an insidious thing, Watson.

Once a man has dipped his fingers in blood

sooner or later he'll feel the urge to kill again.

Good gracious me, very unpleasant.

Funeral, Holmes.

You suppose were too late?

Oh, I think your unnecessarily suspicious, Watson.

One of the villagers, eh?

Aye, sir.

Mr. Mactavis the blacksmith.

Now daughter, don't be talking to strangers.

Wasn't her fault.

I asked your daughter whose funeral it was.

Andy mactavis,

cut down in the flower of his manhood.

What a pity. A young fellow, eh?

Just seventy-two.

Seventy-two?

'Flower of his manhood“, trying to be funny?

Come on, Watson.

Oh, seventy-two, flower of his manhood.

I've seen about forty men...

What can I do for you, gentlemen?

I telegraphed for reservations from London.

Name, sir?

Sherlock Holmes and doctor Watson.

We have your rooms ready, sir.

Thank you.

Sign there gentlemen.

Yes indeed.

Are you staying long, gentlemen?

No, not long.

We just came up here to look into the...

We just came up here for the shooting.

Shooting?

Yes, grouse of course.

No grouse here, sir, for the last forty years.

No grouse?

Cheer up, Watson.

You'll find some other query to occupy our time.

This way, gentlemen.

Take the guns will you?

I'll take the big bag.

So you're back earlier than usual,

doctor merrivale.

Gentlemen, I've just made a rather intriguing discovery.

The village of inverneil has a distinguished visitor.

- Huh? - Really?

Who?

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Who?

I didn't quite catch the name.

- Sherlock Holmes. - Oh.

Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective.

One wonders what he could be doing in inverneil.

Have you forgotten, Alastair

that two of our members have already met

with violent deaths?

Yes, yes, yes of course yes.

Cosgrave, must you pace up and down

like a monkey in a ruddy cage?

I fail to see how what I do can concern you.

Simpson, cosgrave,

cannot we behave like good comrades?

Doesn't anything ever get on your nerves, Alastair?

Oh, dear me, no.

I have no nerves.

Now tell me macgregor,

the present head of the house is Mr. Bruce Alastair, is it not?

Grandson of Donald Alastair.

He was the lawless one.

Turned driercliff house into a smugglers den.

Got himself blown to bits by a gun.