Dressed to Kill Page #2

The Woman a soul,

she had one you know?

By The Woman,

I suppose you

mean Irene Adler?

Yes,

I shall always remember

her as The woman.

Stinky.

Fatso, old boy,

how are you?

How are you, old boy?

I haven't seen you for years.

I want you to meet my old

friend Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes, this is Stinky.

In other words

Julian Emery.

How do you do, Mr. Emery?

Watson's often spoken of you.

Oh, has he?

Yes, we were at

school together.

Yes, more years ago

than I care to remember

but you didn't come in here

just to remind me of that.

No, I just happened to

be in the neighborhood

and saw your lights

burning

so I took the liberty

of looking you up.

Still writing the

old mystery stuff?

Yes. There's a new

one out this week.

- Good, I never miss them.

- Oh good. Thanks.

I say that bandage makes

you look very interesting.

Still poking your nose into

other people's business as usual?

- Who hit you?

- I haven't the foggiest notion.

Somebody knocked me on the

head in my own living room

then proceeded to commit the most

idiotic burglary you ever heard of.

Fellow must have been

barney as a coot.

Barney, why?

Come sit down, old boy.

- Would you like a cup of tea?

- Huh?

Oh, all right.

I'll go and tell

Mrs. Hudson about it.

Why did you say the robbery

was idiotic, Mr. Emery?

Oh, simply from the fact that

with about five thousand

pounds worth

of musical boxes

in my living room

the thief, who

I caught in the act,

made off with one that isn't

even worth five pounds.

I gather you are a

collector of musical boxes?

Yes, I am indeed.

Some of them

are very beautiful

but not the one

that was stolen.

This thief evidently grabbed the first

thing that came to his hand

when he heard me

coming into the room.

Still it's rather odd, isn't it,

that having disposed of you

he didn't pick up

something more valuable.

Well, is there anything

unusual about the stolen box?

No, nothing at all.

I picked it up in

the south of France

several years ago.

You say you have many

valuable music boxes

and yet the thief made off with

one that's isn't worth five pounds.

Sounds like a rather

intriguing little problem.

Yes, well I take it that he was

just an ordinary petty thief

and didn't know the value.

That is a possible explanation,

yet I adventure to say

that the average petty thief has a

more extensive knowledge of the value

of the objet d'art than

the average collector.

Well anyway, that's

Scotland Yards theory

they didn't get very

excited about it.

That's consistent anyway.

I wonder if I might see

your collection, Mr. Emery?

Why of course you can.

Yes.

Nothing that a

collector likes more

than showing off

his trophies.

- When would it suit you?

- No time like the present.

Good.

My place is just around

in Pullman Square.

- Shall we?

- Yes, right.

Hello.

Where you going?

- Stinky hasn't had his tea yet.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

We're going round

to my place

where I'm going to give you

something better than tea.

Now this one was

made for Louis the XV

and is one of the very few still

in the existence from that period

and a particularly

fine specimen at that.

Charming isn't it?

Quite.

They all sound to me

like a lot of mice

running about

on a tin roof.

I'm afraid you have no ear

for music, Watson.

Give me a good old band

playing a rousing march,

you have all your silly

little tweet tweets.

Oh, that's another one

of them.

Good gracious me.

Stupid thing,

singing rabbit, huh.

What would you say offhand is the

value of a box like that, Mr. Emery?

Well, it's hard to say offhand

but I think it would bring

about five or six

hundred pounds today.

It's the gem

of my collection.

Yet a thief, who steals an oddity

like a musical box,

passes up one worth

five hundred pounds

for one of almost

no value at all.

Odd, very odd.

What was the stolen box like,

Mr. Emery?

Oh, just plain wooden box

about so big.

As a matter fact, I have one over here

almost exactly like it.

I picked this up yesterday at an

auction room in Knightsbridge,

paid only

two pounds for it.

Of course, I wouldn't

have ordinarily

add one like this to my collection

but the tune intrigued me.

I'd never heard it before.

You have a remarkable

ear for music, Holmes.

- Rather an unusual melody.

- Sit down, will you.

Thanks.

You say you bought that box

at an auction hall yesterday?

Yes. The Gaylord Auction

Rooms in Knightsbridge,

run by old...

What's his name?

Crabtree.

That's the man.

At what time was the

robbery committed?

Oh, about three o'clock

this morning.

You know, Mr. Emery

that box and the robbery

might well be cause and effect,

especially since you say

that the stolen box

outwardly resembles

this one a great deal

and Scotland Yard was not

particularly interested, eh?

Oh yes, but I wouldn't

blame them for that,

especially as I told them I was

quite unable to describe the thief,

except, of course, for the fact

that it was definitely a man.

All you remember is

that who came in here

and someone struck

you on the head.

Yes and the

next thing I knew

my man was trying

to revive me.

It might be wise for you to put that

box away somewhere and lock it up.

Oh, I don't think

that's necessary.

Besides, everything's insured.

Well, at least of any further

attempts at robbery are made

I'd suggest that

you call the police

rather than running into

any personal danger.

Oh come, Holmes aren't you

being a bit of an alarmist?

Possibly.

I must agree with

old Stinky.

Seems to me you are making rather

a mountain out of a mole skin.

Molehill is the word,

old boy

and it's time

you were in bed.

Thanks so much for letting

us see your collection.

It's been grand

meeting you.

Holmes, I can't understand

why you were so mysterious.

Seems to me the petty thief explanation

was the only sensible one.

- Really?

- Yes, I can't see how you can believe

it was anything else.

I didn't say I believed

it to be anything else.

The petty thief theory is

the obvious one I grant you.

However, it's often a mistaken

to accept something that's true

merely because it's obvious.

The truth is only arrived at

by the pain staking process

of eliminating the untrue.

We are not able to

do that in this case

without further data.

Rubbish.

You're pulling my leg.

You're trying to turn a

cut on the head and a robbery

into an international plot.

No I'm not.

I just hope that

your friend Stinky

is a little more cautious

in the future,

just in case.

Hello. Yeah.

Julian Emery here.

Who?

Why of course I remember

you, Mrs. Courtney.

Yes. Yes, you are the

one bright spot

at that appallingly dull

affair of Lady Sanfords.

Huh?

Of course it isn't to late

to come around.

Yes, I shall be delighted

to give you a drink.

I tell you what

come straight up

and I'll leave the door

unlatched.

All right.

Fifteen minutes?

Good.

I shall be counting

each moment.

No. No.

No, I mean that, really.

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