Most scenes together: Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson (6)
Mr. Holmes, we've admired you in the past, as does every Englishman. Your record as our greatest detective is known throughout the world. But this... seeing how you work... knowing that there is in England such a man as you, gives us all a sense of safety and security. God bless you, Mr. Holmes.
It's a pity you didn't think about bringing that infernal violin of yours... to regale me with some of your enchanting music!
I did, my dear Watson! Anything to oblige!
[he whips out the violin and begins to play]
Then, why are we rushing up to London, leaving Sir Henry entirely unprotected?
We're not, my dear Watson. We're just giving the impression of rushing up to London.
Mr. Holmes, you're the one man in all of 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. Heir to the estate of Baskerville Hall.
I am in mortal fear Sir Henry's life will be... snuffed out.
You must... you must dine with us before you sail.
Sir Henry Baskerville Well, there's the old boy himself... Sir Hugo. Hugo, the Beast of the Baskervilles.
Not a bad bit of brush work. By Ransome, one of the minor painters.
Sir Henry Baskerville Oh, I don't imagine it's very valuable.
I can't quite agree with you, Sir Henry. [ominously] One day, it might prove to be of the greatest value.
Did he tell you his name?
Yes sir.
What did he say it was?
Sherlock Holmes, sir
What?
Well, that's the name what he give me, sir. Sherlock Holmes!
Do you remember that missing boot, Watson? Why do you suppose the brown one, the one that had never been worn, was so mysteriously replaced and the black one taken?
Why?
Because a boot that had never been worn wouldn't have had the scent of the owner... and the black one had!
The only way is to catch him red handed. To catch him in such a way that there's no escape, no alibi. That means gambling with Sir Henry's life.
Gambling to save his life. But we've got to take that chance.
There are still some gaps to be filled in, but all in all, things are becoming a little clearer.
Not to me, I assure you. It's still a hopeless jumble. Mr. Franklin, Doctor Mortimer, the Barrymans... put it all together and what have you got?
Murder, my dear Watson. Refined, cold-blooded murder.
Murder?
There's no doubt about it in my mind. Or perhaps I should say, in my imagination. For that's where crimes are conceived and where they're solved... in the imagination.
The person who wanted to snuff out your life, Sir Henry, was the same one who plotted to kill your uncle. He wanted to get you both out of the way so that he could lay claim to this place, to the whole Baskerville estate. In tracing back his lineage, he discovered not only that he was the next of kin, but also learned that old legend about the hound. So he brought the hound to life by the simple expedient of buying the most savage dog that he could find and hiding it here on the moor until he needed it. If he had succeeded tonight, the blame would have fallen on the legendary monster, and no possible suspicion would have been attached to him. A most ingenious device. And I'm quite sure that he would have had no difficulty in proving his claim to Baskerville Hall and all that goes with it.
