Sherlock Holmes and 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, or seeds.

In the second case six.

And the number

of orange pips

refer to the

surviving members,

a grim warning,

hey 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 there

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

are 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.

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,

hey Holmes?

Quite.

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, hey 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

on 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.

Oh gracious me

very unpleasant.

Funeral home.

You suppose were too late?

Oh I think your

unnecessarily

suspicious, Watson.

One of the villagers hey?

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 huh?

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...

Can I help you gentlemen?

I telegraphed for

reservations from London.

Name sir?

Sherlock Holmes

and Doctor Watson.

We have your

rooms ready then.

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 gun will you?

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 Inverness

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 Inverness.

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?

Aye.

Grandson of

Donald Alastair.

He was the lullish one.

Gunned Driercliff House

in a smugglers day.

Got himself blown

to bits by a gun.

Gracious me.

And Angus Alastair

was his son.

He was eaten by cannibals

in the South Seas.

Very unfortunate

family, hey Holmes?

They found Angus' bones.

Sent them back

to Driercliff

where no man ever goes

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