Sherlock Holmes and the Woman in Green Page #3

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Oh. No. No. No. No!

Take charge of

Miss Fenwick. Please.

Come along with me.

Dead?

Yes.

What do you make

of it. Doctor?

Shot in the back.

Between the second

and third ribs.

The bullet undoubtedly

penetrated the heart.

Look at the powder

marks on his coat.

I was afraid of this.

What do you mean?

Don't you remember

the man in the cab

who followed Miss

Fenwick to Baker Street?

Well. you don't think

he had anything

to do with it. Do you?

Well. I think it's

reasonable to assume

that he tipped off someone

that I've been sent for.

Sir George has

obviously been murdered

to keep him from

telling me what he knew.

What was the weapon used?

Small caliber revolver.

Point-blank range by

the look of the wound.

The murderer came in

through those

French windows.

Look at the mud

from the garden

he brought in

on his boots.

Sir George must have

surprised the intruder

and crossed the

room to him here.

What follows.

We can't tell.

But from the

location of the wound.

I'd say that he turned

his back for a moment.

And as he turned.

The muzzle of

the revolver was

placed between his ribs

and one muffled

shot fired.

And you mean to

say he kept on going

even after he was shot?

There's no

doubt about it.

Look there.

A trail of blood leads

us back to the desk.

There's something

Sir George was after.

Some thing.

I know. He was trying to

summon help. Poor chap.

I don't think so. Watson.

There's the bell pull

by the fireplace.

No. you'll notice from

the trail of blood

that Sir George

made straight

for this desk here.

I wonder...

there was something

he was desperately

anxious to get.

Hello? His right

hand is clenched.

That's perfectly natural.

The left hand lies open.

Why only one hand clenched

in the death agony.

The right hand. The

hand nearest the desk.

Please note that.

If Sir George took

something off this desk.

Something so important

that he spilled his last

drop of blood to get it.

I want to know what it is.

It's nothing but an

ordinary match folder.

Where does that lead us?

I imagine to something

very important. Gregson.

This match folder is

from Pembroke House.

Why shouldn't it be?

He was there. you know?

We saw him yesterday.

Yes. But the effort he

made after he was shot

to get hold of

this match folder.

It's just possible.

He wanted someone to

remember Pembroke House.

He may have wished to

recall it to someone

who saw him there.

Someone who...

like ourselves.

Saw him with a woman.

(Knock on door)

Come in.

Oh. Dr. Watson.

This came by hand

for Mr. Holmes

not ten minutes ago.

Thank you. Mrs. Hudson.

That would be the report

from Sir George's bank.

Oh. Really?

Don't you remember

his daughter told us

that he just

closed his account?

Had it looked

into at once.

He drew out his

entire balance in cash.

Nearly 10.000 pounds.

yesterday.

Just after that young

woman was murdered.

What does that

suggest to you. Watson?

That he paid

it out to someone.

Precisely.

I smell the faint.

Sweet odor of blackmail.

You don't think

he paid it out to someone

who saw him murder

the McLean woman?

Sir George never

murdered anyone.

But he did have

that woman's finger.

And he did have to

pay out a lot of cash.

That's the terrifying part

about blackmail. Watson.

The victim is afraid

to fight the accusation

no matter how false.

Once the

accusation is made.

The name is smeared.

And sometimes

his life is ruined.

Well. If Sir George

didn't commit

these murders.

What fiend did?

I rather think

they're not the

work of any one man.

Oh. Come Holmes. you

don't expect me to believe

there's a whole

organization going

about killing people

and chopping

off their fingers?

Well. It's possible.

Quite possible.

Well. Whoever's

behind all this thing

must be out of his mind.

On the contrary.

My dear fellow.

If my assumptions

are correct.

This little scheme

has behind it

the most brilliant

and ruthless intellect

the world has ever known.

You don't mean

Professor Moriarity?

I do.

Oh. Steady. Holmes. you've

got him on the brain.

This is the third time

in as many months

you've suspected him

of unsolved crimes.

He's dead. you know?

Is he?

You know he is.

He was hanged in Montevido

well over a year ago.

I heard that someone

was hanged in Montevido

under that name.

But I'll stake

my reputation

that Moriarity is alive

and here. Now. In London.

(Phone ringing)

Hello?

Yes...

Dr. Watson. Wait a minute.

Who. Me?

Well. yes.

This is

Dr. Watson speaking.

No. No. I'm

afraid I've retired.

I don't practice anymore.

What?

Oh. That's a

different thing.

An emergency case.

Well. Just a minute.

Yes.

Yes. Well. See that

she's not moved.

Remember that.

Don't touch her

'til I get there.

Fractured...

in McArthur Mews

heavy woman.

Dust.

Just the sort of person

who wouldn't hoist

herself up on a stool

to feed the canary.

There ought to be a

law against fat people

keeping little

dickey birds.

So long. Old man.

I shan't be very long.

Haven't used that bag

since I brought

little Amelia Watson

into the world.

She grew up to be a

very unattractive child.

Huh. Who wouldn't

with a name like Amelia.

Amelia. Huh.

Oh. Professor Moriarity.

Not that I wish

to appear inquisitive.

But to what am I indebted

to the pleasure

of this visit?

Scotland Yard

will be interested.

It's very

convenient for me

to have

Scotland Yard think

that I am still

dead in Montevideo.

I never dreamed

of fooling you.

Thank you.

The thought occurs

to me. Mr. Holmes.

That there are

some advantages

in living within the law.

You are very comfortably

fixed here. Aren't you?

As I get on in life.

The little comforts

appeal to me

more and more.

Oh. I beg your pardon.

Won't you sit down?

Thank you.

And now.

Professor Moriarity.

What can I do for you?

Everything that

I have to say to you

has already

crossed your mind.

And my answer has no

doubt crossed yours?

That's final?

What do you think?

I shall not rest

until you are hanged

for the finger murders.

You've no proof. you know?

No. Not a shred.

But I have you.

I could turn you

over to the police.

Here and now.

You could.

But if you did.

you'd never see

Dr. Watson again.

Oh. The telephone call?

Quite.

I rather assumed

you had taken

some such precaution.

Or I should have

snatched up a revolver

and indulged in

a fit of heroics

when you came in.

Very smart. Aren't you?

Not smart enough.

Or I should have

anticipated you.

But. If any harm

comes to Dr. Watson.

I shall seek you out.

I shall not rest

until I find you.

And when I do...

No harm will come to

Dr. Watson this time.

But I can't answer

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