The Hound of the Baskervilles

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Hello there?

Hello there, is something wrong?

My wife and I found him

lying dead in the yew alley,

face downward.

What did you do then?

I hurried across the moor to

fetch the doctor, Dr. Mortimer.

He was at dinner with

Miss Stapleton and her brother.

Very well, Barryman,

that's all.

Yes, sir.

Dr. Mortimer,

to what do you attribute

the death of Sir Charles?

Heart failure, sir.

I might add that for some time

Sir Charles was in a highly nervous state,

worried.

Something was preying

on his mind.

And did he confide to you

what was preying on his mind?

Well...

- No. - Well then, what about

those footprints, Mortimer?

As though Sir Charles had been

tiptoeing back towards the house?

I examined them myself,

and as a man of science, I..

So did I, Mr. Stapleton.

- More likely, Sir Charles

was running.. - Running?

Running from what?

If you please, gentlemen,

one at a time.

Why don't you tell the truth,

all of you,

tell all you know!

Silence, Mr. Franklin.

You've already testified.

You were not there, know nothing

whatever of this matter.

Nevertheless, I insist

he was murdered!

- Murdered, I tell you!

- That will do, sir, that will do.

- There were no marks on the body

of any kind, Dr. Mortimer? - None.

Then as his physician, what would you

say was the cause of Sir Charles' death?

Most emphatically

a heart failure, sir.

Such then gentlemen, is the

verdict of this coroner's court.

Call it what you like.

Sir Charles was murdered.

There's more than one

person in this room,

knows I speak the truth.

I'm blasted if I know why on earth

you want all these clippings

about this Baskerville fellow.

I have an idea, Watson, that

young Sir Henry isn't destined

for a very long existence

in this world.

What?

My conjecture is

that he'll be murdered.

Murdered?

It would be very interesting to

see if my deductions are accurate.

Oh, Mr. Holmes,

while you were out a gentleman

called to see you and left this.

He asked you to give it to me?

- Oh, no, sir, he just left it by

mistake, I imagine. - Mm-hmm.

A Dr. Mortimer?

He didn't leave his name, sir.

- No, it's here on the stick, Mrs. Hudson.

- Oh, is it, I didn't notice.

Do you know any

Dr. Mortimer, Watson?

No?

What did he want?

He didn't say, sir.

What do you make of it, Watson?

Why should I make

anything of it?

- The fellow came to see you.

- Ah, but what kind of a fellow?

Let me hear you reconstruct him

from his walking stick

by our usual method of

elementary observation.

Well, I should say that

Dr. Mortimer is a successful man,

- well esteemed.

- Good, excellent.

I should say that he does a great

deal of his visiting on foot,

...because the iron ferrule is

worn down. - Perfectly sound.

Let's have a look at

this inscription.

"From his friends of the C.C.H."

C.C.H.

I should say that's the

something or other hunt.

Really, Watson,

you've excelled yourself.

Does anything escape me?

- Almost everything,

my dear fellow. - What?

A present to a doctor I'd say is more

likely to come from a hospital than a hunt.

And when the letters "C.C"

are placed before the hospital,

the name Cherring Cross Hospital

rather obviously presents itself.

Oh, okay, you may be right.

Furthermore I'd say that Dr. Mortimer

had a small practice in the country

- and was the owner of a dog.

- How can you tell that?

Quite simple,

from the teeth marks.

Look, you can see for yourself.

A rather large dog, I'd say,

and unless I'm mistaken, Dr. Mortimer

will call on us again in a few moments.

Rubbish, Holmes, rubbish.

How the devil

can you deduce that?

Well, as he left his stick,

isn't it reasonable to presume

that he'll come back and get it?

Dr. Mortimer, sir.

Mr. Holmes?

Yes, come in, Dr. Mortimer.

- I took the liberty of calling

upon you.. - And left your stick.

Oh, so I did.

Thank you so much.

A presentation, I see.

Yes, sir,

from Cherring Cross Hospital.

This is my friend, Dr. Watson.

Of course.

How do you do, sir.

Mr. Holmes,

you're the one man in all

England who can help me.

Well, won't you sit down?

Thank you.

A friend of mine

is in grave danger.

- May I inquire his name?

- Sir Henry Baskerville.

The Heir to the Estate

of Baskerville Hall.

I'm in mortal fear Sir Henry's

life will be stuffed out.

Why, what makes you think that?

I have information which leads me

to believe that for centuries past,

every Baskerville who

has inherited the estates

has met with a violent,

and sudden death.

But as I recall it, Sir Charles died

from natural causes, heart failure.

Apparently, and that was

the verdict of the coroner,

in which I, Sir Charles'

physician, concurred,

but there was one point which

I kept back from the police,

from everybody.

Yes?

About 50 yards from where

Sir Charles fell dead

were footprints.

A man's or a woman's?

Mr. Holmes, they were the

footprints of a gigantic hound.

A hound?

Well, why didn't you report it?

Not a soul

would have believed it.

And during the night it rained.

And in the morning the marks

were completely obliterated,

but I saw them

as clearly as I see you.

And then a few days ago, as one

of the executors of the estate,

I found this.

This old document.

"Legend of the Hound

of the Baskervilles."

Let me read it to you,

Mr. Holmes,

it's quite short.

I won't bore you, I promise.

Yes, please, go on.

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