The Hound of the Baskervilles

Know then the legend of the hound of the Baskervilles.

Know then that the great hall of Baskervilles...

was once held by Sir Hugo of that name...

a wild, profane, and godless man.

An evil man, in truth...

for there was with him a certain ugly and cruel humor...

that made his name a byword in the county.

- Our friend learns swiftly. - Aye.

He's already learned to fly like a wildfowl...

and now he swims like a waterfowl.

Shall we see how he roasts?

Fetch him.

By morning, our friend will know better than to condemn the sport of his master.

Come on out. Come on.

Here he comes, Sir Hugo.

Here he is, Sir Hugo.

Now our waterfowl has become guinea fowl.

Guinea pig, more likely.

Bird or beast, we'll soon make him sing like a nightingale.

Now, sir....

This may teach you to criticize my pleasures.

If 'twere anyone but my own daughter, Master...

You should be proud that a Baskerville...

should so much as look at your miserable child.

Pay up!

No, no! The game was spoiled before the wager was laid.

Do not crowd me, sirs, I pray you.

I will not pay.

What about the wager?

If I must, I must.

- But not in gold. - Not in gold?

In kind, with a plaything I was keeping for myself.

I accept. Where is the girl?

Girl? What talk is this of a girl? I know of no girl.

Enough!

You shall see her at once, and before Sir Richard bursts with passion.

See to it that there be no fighting among your herd of rams.

The bitch has got away.

What does she think I am, that she does this to me?

Damn her!

I have her now.

You there! Let loose the pack!

And you, my hunter at the door...

- ...set the hounds on her. - But, sir, you cannot...

The hounds! Let loose the pack!

- Yeah, I'll get her. - My friend, you cannot do this.

I'll get her!

May the hounds of Hell take me if I can't hunt her down!

Come on.

Come on, what's the matter with you? Come on, will you?

Now, you witch!

No.

"And so, the curse of Sir Hugo...

"came upon the Baskervilles...

"in the shape of a hound from Hell...

"forever to bring misfortune...

"to the Baskerville family.

"Therefore, take heed...

"and beware the moor in those dark hours when evil is exalted...

"else you will surely meet the hound of Hell...

"the hound of the Baskervilles.

"So ends the legend."

And what, may I ask, do you think of that, Mr. Holmes?

There must be hundreds of similar folk stories.

I fail to see why I should find this one of singular interest.

What do you say, Watson?

I'm sure Dr. Mortimer's intentions are for the best...

but there seems little to be gained from what he's told us.

I had hoped, sir, that the facts I have laid before you...

might have intrigued you as a detective.

I was obviously mistaken.

Good day to you, sir.

Dr. Mortimer, it was something more important...

that brought you from Devonshire to Baker Street...

something that occurred on Dartmoor on Friday, the 13th of June.

You've known about it all the time, then?

I know nothing, except that you live on Dartmoor...

have a copy of the Devon County Chronicle in your briefcase...

dated June 14.

That newspaper is published on Saturdays, but goes to press on Thursday.

You've kept it for something vitally important.

The headlines aren't interesting, so it must be in the stop press.

Whatever it was happened on Friday, the 13th of June.

- But this is remarkable. - Superficial.

There's nothing remarkable about using one's eyes.

Now, sir, would you be prepared to give us the relevant facts?

Why, yes.

Under the circumstances, I think I would.

- Proceed. - Thank you.

This is just the stop press.

"Devonshire knight found dead.

"The body of Sir Charles Baskerville discovered on Dartmoor early today.

"Foul play not suspected."

The account in the next edition is much fuller.

Now, where are we?

Yes, here we are.

"The death of Sir Charles Baskerville has caused much sadness...

"in the small village of Grimpen, Dartmoor.

"Dr. Richard Mortimer, a well-known Devonshire personality...

- "said today that"... - If you'll pardon me, Dr. Mortimer...

I want just the plain facts in your own words.

Please.

Very well.

The plain facts of the matter are that a fortnight ago...

Sir Charles Baskerville was found dead on the moor.

- Who found him? - His servant, Barrymore.

He and his wife are housekeepers up at Baskerville Hall.

He fetched me at once and took me back to the body.

Where was the body? Dartmoor, I know, but exactly where? It's a large place.

Near the abbey ruins up on the hill, not far from Baskerville Hall.

The place where Sir Hugo died in the legend...

and the circumstances were exactly the same.

You mean Sir Charles had been attacked?

- That his throat had been torn out? - No. The body was untouched.

But his face....

Never in all my medical career have I seen such a look of horror on a dead person.

Sir Charles must have been terrified when he died.

But he was alone.

The strange thing was, there were no footprints, Mr. Holmes.

That cannot be quite true.

There were the servants', for instance, your own, and Sir Charles'.

Yes, of course, but what I meant to say was...

there were no other footprints.

Facts are only of value when they're clear, concise, and correct.

Pray, continue.

And there was another strange thing.

Sir Charles must've been tiptoeing back to Baskerville Hall when he died.

I could tell that because the footmarks showed only the toes of his boots.

There were no heel marks.

I'm something of an archaeologist in my spare time...

and so I'm used to looking for the extraordinary.

You have not yet told us what Sir Charles died of.

Before you do, sir, I suggest it was heart failure.

The inquest found that he died of arteriosclerosis...

a disease of the coronary arteries.

A condition of the heart...

that can lead to heart failure.

Yes. I think it must be hereditary with the Baskervilles.

They all seem to suffer from the same weakness.

Is there a successor to the family title?

Yes. Sir Henry Baskerville.

He's due to arrive in London tonight from Johannesburg.

Why have you come to me, when you really don't believe...

that I can help you?

- I don't think I know what you mean. - I think you do.

Excuse me.

Although you knew the cause of death, you've implied a more horrible death...

that he might have seen the hound of Hell, the curse of the Baskervilles.

Do you really believe that legend?

There are many things in life and death that we do not understand.

Then I suggest you consult a priest instead of a detective.

Do you think I can influence the powers of darkness?

Of course not.

I thought you might prevent Sir Henry from going into danger.

If there is an evil curse on the family...

it can be just as powerful in London as in Devonshire.

- Where will he be staying? - At the Northumberland Hotel.

Does this mean that you'll investigate the matter?

I have not said. My commitments are heavy.

I beg of you, Mr. Holmes, this is a matter of life and death.

There can be no harm done by my seeing the man.

Shall we say 10:00 tomorrow morning, at the hotel?

Good. That will suit admirably.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

You will not find me ungenerous in the matter of fees.

My professional charges are upon a fixed scale.

I do not vary them, except when I remit them altogether.

Good day.

Good day, Mr. Holmes.

- Thank you, Doctor. - Not at all, Doctor.

Good day, Dr. Watson.

I must say, you never cease to surprise me, Holmes.

First you tear him apart, and then you say you'll help him.

My dear Watson, you ought to know me better.

I had to burst the balloon, deflate his pomposity...

to find one significant clue.

I saw nothing of significance in anything he said.

I'm surprised you bothered with him.

Nevertheless, one important point did emerge.

Didn't you notice anything odd in what he said?

The only thing I noticed was that he said Sir Charles...

was tiptoeing about Dartmoor at night.

That's just it, Watson. Well done, my boy. But he wasn't tiptoeing.

He was running, running for his life...

running in panic until he burst his heart.

Would you mind sorting out a large-scale map of Dartmoor...

while I find some more tobacco. This, I think, is a two-pipe problem.

Come in.

So you finally managed to get here.

I didn't know we'd kept you.

Kept me? I sent for you over 20 minutes ago.

- I think perhaps you've made a mistake. - I've made a mistake, all right.

The mistake I made was in ever coming to this hotel.

What did you find out about my other boot?

They were both here last night.

But nobody knows: the porter, the maid, the boot boy.

Nobody in this hotel of yours knows where the other one's gone to.

You're the manager.

Perhaps you'll tell me what you do with all your boots.

I'm a few minutes late, I'm afraid. Those confounded horse buses.