Season II Episode V - The Devil's Foot-Part One

Transcript

Holmes Retreats To Cornwall

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Sherlock Holmes Alone, Season Two, Episode Five, The Devil's Foot, Part One.

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It was in the spring of the year 1897 that my iron constitution showed some symptoms of giving way in the face of constant hard work of a most exacting kind, aggravated perhaps by occasional indiscretions of my own. In March of that year, Dr. Moragar of Harley Street gave positive injunctions that I should lay aside all my cases, and surrender myself to complete rest if I wished to avert an absolute breakdown. The state of my health was not a matter in which I myself took the faintest interest, for my mental detachment was absolute, but I was induced at last on the threat of being permanently disqualified from work, to give myself a complete change of scene and air. Thus it was in the early spring of that year Watson and I found ourselves together in a small cottage near Poldu Bay, at the further extremity of the Cornish Peninsula. It was a singular spot, and one particularly well suited to my grim humour. From the windows of our little whitewashed house, which stood high upon a grassy headland, we looked down upon the whole sinister semicircle of Mons Bay, that old death trap of sailing vessels, with its fringes of black cliffs and surge swept reefs, on which innumerable seamen have met their end. With a northerly breeze, it lies placid and sheltered, inviting storm tossed craft to tack into it for rest and protection. Then come the sudden swirl round of the wind, and the blistering gale from the southwest, the dragging anchor, the lee shore, and the last battle in the creaming breakers. The wise mariner stands far out from that evil place. On the land side our surroundings were as somber as on the sea. It was a country of rolling moors lonely and duncoled, with an occasional church tower to mark the site of some old world village. In every direction upon these moors there were traces of some vanished race which had passed utterly away, and left as its sole records strange monuments of stone, irregular mounds which contained the buried ashes of the dead, and curious earthworks which hinted at prehistoric strife. The glamour and mystery of the place, with its sinister atmosphere of forgotten nations, appealed to my imagination, and I spent much of my time in long walks and solitary meditations upon the moor. The ancient Cornish language had also arrested my attention, and I had, I remember, conceived the idea that it was akin to the Claudian, and had been largely derived from the Phoenician traders in Tin. I had received a consignment of books upon philology, and was settling down to develop this thesis when suddenly, to Watson's sorrow and to my unfeigned delight, we found ourselves, even in the land of dreams, plunged into a problem at our very door. A problem which was more intense, more engrossing, and infinitely more mysterious than any of those which had driven us from London. Our simple life, of peaceful, healthy routine, was violently interrupted, and we were precipitated into the midst of a series of events which caused the utmost excitement not only in Cornwall, but throughout the whole west of England. The papers would call it the Cornish Horror. Though a most imperfect account of the matter reached the London press. Now, after all these years, I will give the true details of this inconceivable affair to the public. I have said that scattered towers marked the villages which dotted this part of Cornwall. The nearest of these was the hamlet of Trenock Walls, where the cottages of a couple of hundred inhabitants clustered round an ancient mosque grown church. The vicar of the parish, Mr Roundhay, was something of an archaeologist, and as such I had made his acquaintance. He was a middle aged man portly and affable, with a considerable fund of local lore. At his invitation we had taken tea at the vicarage, and had come to know also a Mr Mortiber Treginnus, an independent gentleman who increased the clergyman's scanty resources by taking rooms in his large, straggling house. The vicar, being a bachelor, was glad to come to such an arrangement, though he had little in common with his lodger, who was a thin, dark, spectacled man with a stoop which gave the impression of actual physical deformity. I remember that during our short visit we found the vicar to be rather garrulous, but his lodger strangely reticent, a sad faced, introspective man, sitting with averted eyes brooding apparently upon his own affairs. These

A Vicar Brings A Nightmare

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were the two men who entered abruptly into our little sitting room on Tuesday, march sixteenth, shortly after our breakfast hour, as we were smoking together, preparatory to our daily excursions upon the moors. Mr Holmes, the most extraordinary and tragic affairs occurred during the night. It is a most unheard of business, and we can only regard it as a special providence that you should chance to be here at this time, for in all of England you are the one man we need. Watson glared at the intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes, but I took my pipe from my lips and sat up in my chair like an old hound who hears the Vuhalla. I waved my hand to the sofa, and our palpitating visitor, with his agitated companion, sat side by side upon it. Mr Mortimer Treginnus was much more self contained than the clergyman, but the twitching of his thin hands and the brightness of his dark eyes showed that they shared a common emotion. Mr Treguinnis, shall I speak or should you? Well, Mr Treguinnis, as you seem to have made the discovery, whatever it may be, and the vicar to have had it second hand, perhaps you had better do the speaking. I glanced at the hastily clad clergyman, with the more formally dressed lodger seated beside him, and was amused at the surprise which my simple deduction had brought to their faces. Perhaps I had best say a few words first, and then you can judge if you will listen to the details from Mr Treginnus, or whether we should not hasten at once to the scene of this mysterious affair. Very good, Vicar. Please proceed. I may explain then that our friend here spent last evening in the company of his two brothers, Owen and George, and of his sister Brenda, at their house in Treginicwartha, which is near the Old Stone Cross upon the moor. He left them shortly after ten o'clock, playing cards round the dining room table, in excellent health and spirits. This morning, being an early riser, he walked in that direction before breakfast, and was overtaken by the carriage of doctor Richards, who explained that he had just been sent for on a most urgent call to Tregenicwartha. Mr Mortimer Treginus naturally went with him. When he arrived at Tregenicwartha, he found an extraordinary state of things. His two brothers and his sister were seated round the table exactly as he had left them, the cards still spread out in front of them, and the candles burned down to their sockets. The sister lay back stone dead in her chair, while the two brothers sat on each side of the table, laughing, shouting, and singing, their senses stricken clean out of them. All three of them, the dead woman and the two demented men, retained upon their faces an expression of the utmost horror, a convulsion of terror which was dreadful to look upon. There was no sign of the presence of anyone in the house except for Mrs. Porter, the old cook, and housekeeper, who declared that she had slept deeply and heard no sound during the night. Nothing had been stolen or disarranged, and there is absolutely no explanation of the horror which was has frightened the woman to death and two strong men out of their senses. This is the situation, Mr Holmes, in a nutshell, and if you can help us to clear it up, you will have done a great work. Now I am sure that Watson had hoped that he could coax me back into the quiet which had been the object of our journey. However, one glance at my intense face and contracted eyebrows told him how vain was now the expectation. I sat for some little time in silence, absorbed in the strange drama which had broken into our peace. I will look into the matter, Vicar. On the face of it, it would appear to be a case of a very exceptional nature. Have you been there yourself, Mr Brownhay? No, Mr Holmes. Mr Treginnis brought back the account to the Vicarage, and I have at once hurried over with him to consult you. Well, um I must say, Vicar, how far is it to the house where this singular tragedy occurred? About a mile inland, doctor Watson. Ah well then, we shall take our walk together.

The Card Table Turns To Horror

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But before we start, I must ask you a few questions, Mr Mortimer Treginnus. Mr Treginnus had been silent all this time, but I had observed that his more controlled excitement was even greater than the obtrusive emotion of the clergyman. He sat with a pale, drawn face, his anxious gaze fixed upon me, and his hands clasped convulsively together. His pale lips quivered as he listened to the dreadful experience which had befallen his family, and his dark eyes seemed to reflect something of the horror of the scene. Ask what you like, Mr Holmes. It's a bad thing to speak of, but I will answer you the truth. Well tell me about last night, Mr Dreginness. Well, Mr Holmes, I supp there, as the vicar has said, and my elderly brother George proposed a game of whit afterwards. We sat down about nine o'clock. It was a quarter past ten when I moved to go. I left them all round the table, as merry as could be. And who let you out? Mrs. Porter had gone to bed. So I let myself out. I shut the hall door behind me. The window of the room in which they sat was closed, but the blind was not drawn down. There was no change in door or window this morning, or any reason to think that any stranger had been to the house. Yet there they sat, driven clean mad with terror, and Brenda lying there dead of fright, with her head hanging over the arm of the chair. I'll never get that sight of that room out of my mind, so long as I live. The facts, as you state them, are certainly most remarkable. I take it that you have no theory yourself, uh which can in any way account for them. It's devilish, Mr. Holmes. Devilish It's not of this world. Something has come into that room, which has dashed the light of reason from their minds. What human contrivance could do that? I fear that if the matter is beyond humanity, it is certainly beyond me. Yet we must exhaust all natural explanations before we fall back upon such a theory as this. As to yourself, Mr Guinness, I take it you were divided in some way from your family, since they lived together, and you had rooms apart. That is so, Mr Holmes. Though the matter is passed and done with. We were a family of tin miners at Redworth, but we sold our venture to a company, and so retired with enough to keep us. I won't deny that there was some feeling about the division of the money, and it stood between us for for a time. But it was all forgiven and forgotten, and we were the best of friends together. Looking back at the evening which you spent together, does anything stand out in your memory as throwing any possible light upon this tragedy? Think carefully, Mr Treginnus, for any clue which can help me. There's there's nothing at all, sir. Your people were in their usual spirits? Never better, Mr Holmes. Were they nervous people? Did they ever show any apprehension of coming danger? No, Mr Holmes. Nothing of the kind. You have nothing to add then, which could assist me? Mortimer Truguinnis considered earnestly for a moment. Well, there is one thing that occurs to me now. As we sat at the table my back was to the window, and my brother George, he being my partner at cards was facing it. I saw him look out hard over my shoulder, so I turned round and looked also. The blind was up, and the window shut, but I could just make out the bushes on the lawn, and it seemed to me for a moment that I saw something moving among them. I couldn't even say if it were man or animal, but I just thought that there was something out there. Then I asked him what he was looking at, and he told me that he had the same feeling. That is all I can say. Did you not investigate? No, the matter passed as unimportant. You left them then without any premonition of evil? No, sir, none. None at all. I'm not clear how you came to hear the news so early this morning, Mr Treginnus. I'm an early riser, Mr Holmes, and generally take a walk before breakfast. This morning I had hardly started when I saw the doctor in his carriage, and he overtook me. He told me that old Mrs. Porter had sent a boy down with an urgent message. I sprang in beside him and we drove on. When we got there we looked into that dreadful room and the candles and the fire must have burned out hours before and they'd been sitting there in the dark until dawn had broken. The doctor said Brenda must have been dead at least six hours. There were no signs of violence. She just lay across the arm of the chair, with that look on her face. Georgie and Owen were singing snatches of songs and glibering like two great apes. Oh it was it was awful to see. I couldn't stand it. And the doctor was as white as a sheet. Indeed, he fell into a chair in a short sort of faint, and we nearly had him on our hands as well. Remarkable, absolutely remarkable. I think perhaps we had better go down to Trugenicwartha without further delay. I confess that I have seldom known a case which at first sight presented a more singular problem.

A Carriage To The Asylum

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Our proceedings of that first morning did little to advance the investigation. It was marked, however, at the onset by an incident which left the most sinister impression upon my mind. The approach to the spot at which the tragedy occurred is down a narrow, winding country lane. While we made our way along it, we heard the rattle of a carriage coming towards us, and stood aside to let it pass. As it drove by us, I caught a glimpse through the closed window of a horribly contorted, grinning face glaring out at us. Those staring eyes and those gnashing teeth flashed past like a dreadful vision. Oh, Mr Holmes, it's my brothers. They're taking them to Helston, the lunatic asylum. We looked with horror after the black carriage, lumbering upon its way. Then we turned our steps toward this ill omened house, in which they had met their strange fate. It was a large and bright dwelling, rather a villa than a cottage, with a considerable garden which was already in that cornish air well filled with spring flowers. Towards this garden the window of the sitting room fronted, and from it, according to Mortimer Tuginnus, must have come that thing of evil which had by sheer horror in a single instant blasted their minds. I walked slowly and thoroughly among the flower pots, and along the path before we entered the porch. At one point I stumbled over the watering pot, upsetting its contents, and deluged both my feet and the garden path. Inside the house we were met by the elderly Cornish housekeeper, Mrs. Porter, who, with the aid of a young girl, looked after the wants of the family. She readily answered all my questions. She had heard nothing in the night. Her employers had all been in excellent spirits lately, and she had never known them more cheerful and prosperous. She had fainted with horror upon entering the room in the morning and seeing that dreadful company round the table. She had, when she recovered, thrown open the window to let the morning air in, and had run down to the lane when she sent a farm lad for the doctor. The lady was on her bed upstairs if we cared to see her. It took four strong men to get the brothers into the asylum carriage. She would not herself stay in the house another day, and was starting that very afternoon to rejoin her family at St. Ives. We ascended the stairs and viewed the body.

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Mrs.

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Brenda Treginnis had been a very beautiful girl, though now verging upon middle age. Her dark, clear cut face was handsome, even in death, but there still lingered upon it something of that convulsion of horror which had been her last human emotion. From her bedroom we descended to the sitting room, where this strange tragedy had actually occurred. The charred ashes of the overnight fire lay in the grate. On the table were four guttered and burned out candles, with the cards scattered over the surface. The chairs had been moved back against the walls, but all else was as it had been the night before. I paced with light swift steps about the room. I sat in various chairs, drawing them up and reconstructing their positions. I tested how much of the garden was visible. I examined the floor, the ceiling, and the fireplace, but I saw nothing, which would have told me that there was some gleam of light in this utter darkness. Mr Treginnus, why a fire? Ah, very good, Watson. Yes, Mr Treginnus. Had they always a fire in this small room on a spring evening? Oh the night was cold and damp. For that reason, after my arrival, the fire was lit. What are you going to do now, Mr Holmes? I laid my hand upon Watson's sleeve. I

Holmes Searches Then Withdraws

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think, Watson, that I shall resume that course of tobacco poisoning which you have so often and so justly condemned. With your permission, gentlemen, we will now return to our cottage, for I am not aware that there is any new factor that is likely to come to our attention here. I will then turn the facts over in my mind, Mr Treginnus, and should anything occur to me, I will certainly communicate with you and the vicar. In the meantime, I wish you both a good morning. It was not until long after we were back in Poldew Cottage that I broke my complete and absorbed silence. I sat coiled in my armchair, my face hardly visible amid the blue swirl of my tobacco smoke. Finally, I laid down my pipe and sprang to my feet.

Reasoning On The Clifftops

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It won't do, Watson. Let us walk along the cliffs together in search for flint arrows. We are more likely to find them than clues to this problem. To let the brain work without sufficient material is like racing an engine. It cracks itself to pieces. The sea air, sunshine, and patience, Watson. All else will come. Thus we pondered the problem as we walked along the room. along the windswept cliffs. Now, Watson, let us get a firm grip of the very little which we do know, so that when fresh facts arise we may be ready to fit them into their places. I take it in the first place that neither of us is prepared to admit diabolical intrusions into the affairs of men. Let us begin by ruling that out entirely. Very good. Now there remain three persons who have been grievously stricken by some conscious or unconscious human agency. That is firm ground. Now, when did this occur? Evidently, assuming the narrative to be true, it was immediately after Mr Mortimer Turginness had left the room. That is a very important point. The presumption is that it was within a few minutes afterwards. The cards still lay upon the table, it was already past their usual hour for bed, yet they had not changed their positions or pushed back their chairs. I repeat then, that the occurrence was immediately after his departure, and not later than eleven o'clock last evening. Our next obvious step is to check so far as we can, the movements of Mortimer Guinness after he left the room. In this there is no difficulty, and they seem to be above suspicion. Knowing my methods as you do, you were of course conscious of the somewhat clumsy water pot experiment by which I obtained a clearer impression of his foot than might otherwise have been possible The wet, sandy path took it admirably. Last night was also wet, you will remember, and it was not difficult, having obtained a sample print, to pick out his track among the others and to follow his movements he appears to have walked away swiftly in the direction of the Vicarage. If then Mortimer Treginnis disappeared from the scene and yet some outside person affected the card players, how can we reconstruct that person? And how was such an impression of horror conveyed? Mrs. Porter may be eliminated. She is evidently harmless. Is there any evidence that someone crept up to the garden window and in some manner produced so terrifying an effect that he drove those who saw it out of their senses? The only suggestion in this direction comes from Mortimer Guinness himself, who says that his brother spoke about something moving in the garden. That is certainly remarkable, as the night was rainy, cloudy and dark, anyone who had the design to alarm these people would have been compelled to place his face right up against the glass before he could be seen. There is a three foot flower border outside this window, but no indication of a footmark. It is difficult to imagine then, how an outsider could have made so terrible impression upon the company, nor have we found any possibility of a motive for so strange and elaborate an attempt. You perceive our difficulties, Watson Well yes, Holmes, they are indeed abundantly clear. And yet with a little more material, we may prove that they are not insurmountable. Meanwhile, we shall put the case aside until more accurate data are available, and devote the rest of our morning to the pursuit of Neolithic man. Watson has often commented upon my power of mental detachment, but I am sure he never wondered at it more than upon that spring morning in Cornwall, when for two hours I discoursed upon kelts, arrowheads and shards as lightly as if no sinister mystery were waiting for my solution. It was

Dr Sterndale Demands Answers

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not until we had returned in the afternoon to our cottage that we found a visitor awaiting us, who soon brought our minds back to the matter at hand. Neither of us needed to be told who the visitor was, his huge body, the craggy and deeply seen face, with those fierce eyes and a hawk like nose, the grizzled hair which nearly brushed our cottage ceiling, the beard golden at the fringes and white near the lips, save for the nicotine stain from his perpetual cigar, all these were as well known in London as in Africa, and could only be associated with the tremendous personality of doctor Leon Sterndale, a great lion hunter and explorer. We had heard of his presence in the district, and had once or twice caught sight of his tall figure upon the moorland. He made no advances to us, however, nor would we have dreamed of doing so to him, as it was well known that it was his love of seclusion which caused him to spend the greater part of the interval between his journeys in a small bungalow buried in the lonely wood of Beauchamp Ariance. Here amid his books and his maps he lived an absolutely lonely life attending to his own simple wants and paying little apparent heed to the affairs of his neighbours. It was a surprise to me therefore when he asked me in an eager voice whether I had made any advance in my reconstruction of this mysterious episode. Mr Holmes, the county police are utterly at fault, but perhaps you with your wider experience can suggest some conceivable explanation. My only claim to being taken into your confidence is that during my residences here I have come to know this family of Treginnus very well indeed. Upon my Cornish mother's side I could call them cousins, and their strange fate has naturally been a great shock to me. I may tell you that I had got as far as Plymouth upon my way to Africa, but the news reached me this morning and I came straight back again to help in the inquiry. Did you lose your boat through that? I will take the next boat dear me that is friendship indeed. I tell you they were relatives quite so quite so cousins of your mother was your baggage aboard the ship some of it but the main part is at the hotel I see. But surely this event could not have found its way into the Plymouth morning papers no sir I had a telegram might I ask from whom? A shadow passed over the gaunt face of the explorer you are very inquisitive, Mr Holmes it is my business with an effort Dr. Sterndale recovered his ruffled composure I have no objection to telling you that it was Mr Roundhead the vicar who sent me the telegram which recalled me thank you I may say in answer to your original question that I have not cleared my mind entirely on the subject of this case, but that I have every hope of reaching some conclusion it would be premature to say more. Perhaps you would not mind telling me if your suspicions point in any particular direction Well no I can hardly answer that. Then I've wasted my time and I need not prolong this visit The famous doctor strode out of our cottage in considerable ill humour, and within five minutes I had followed him. I returned with a slow step and haggard face, which assured Watson that I had made no great progress with my investigation. I

A Telegram Exposes A New Thread

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glanced at a telegram which awaited me and threw it into the fire That was a telegram from the Plymouth Hotel, Watson. I learned the name of it from the vicar, and I wired to make certain that Dr Leon Sterndale's account was true. It appears that he did indeed spend last night there, and that he has actually allowed some of his baggage to go on to Africa while he returned to be present at this investigation. What do you make of that, Watson? Well doctor Sterndale is indeed deeply interested Deeply interested, yes There is a thread here which we had not yet grasped, and which might lead us through this tangle. Cheer up, Watson, for I am very sure that our material has not yet come to hand. When it does we may soon leave our difficulties behind us. Little did I realize at the time how soon my words would be realized or how strange and sinister would be that new development which opened up an entirely fresh line of investigation Sherlock Holmes Alone adapted and performed by J.P.

art Two Teased

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Winslow based on the original writings of Sir Arthur Colin Doyle tune in next time for part two of the Devil's Football